Post by Chris Madison on Sept 25, 2013 16:09:21 GMT -4
"Oh how sweet it is…"
"CJ's face said it all when he had to deal with the realization that he had just lost to Niobe. But so is life…one month you're on top of the world challenging Level-One for the APW World Heavyweight Championship and the next you're rubbing elbows with the lowly likes of us in the Black Hand."
"And to think, all of this could have been averted. CJ was never on our radar, at least for the time being. His little pal Biggs was the one we wanted. Biggs was the one, who much like Kurt Styles, just couldn't stay out of our business. Kurt was dealt with and as will Biggs be. The only difference is that Biggs has people who look out for him. APW's special little space cadet has a big brother to watch over his shoulder."
"What the Space Cowboys are quickly learning is that no one is out of the reach of the Black Hand! No one!"
"But where does it end? How does it end?"
"I only see one resolution to this powder keg. Much like Kurt Styles learned the hard way. You fuck with us and we won't stop coming. We are resilient in a pesky way. We're that annoying itch right between your shoulder blades that's just out of reach. This only ends with CJ Gates and Biggs being carried out on a stretcher!"
"But first I have bigger fish to fry."
"Another APW megastar whose name is enriched with history."
"Simply Fucking Put, Chris Madison gets himself some of Johnny Rebel."
Chris Madison sat in his office inside his training facility behind a large oak desk. The large room displayed championships he has won over his years of pro wrestling, all presented in large glass cases which were secured to the wall. Various promotional posters and photographs of Madison with other wrestlers layer the wall like wallpaper. Chris was shuffling through some papers as there was a knock on his door.
"Come in", he yelled inviting his guest into his office.
Frankie Morrison slowly pushed the door open before shuffling into the office. His jaw dropped as Chris sat behind mounds of envelopes on his desk. Frankie instantly noticed how rundown Chris had looked, his hair was messy, his clothing stained and disheveled. "What the hell is going on Chris", he questioned while lifting a gym bag from the seat opposite Chris. He placed the bag on the floor along the wall and took a seat.
"Don't even get me started Frankie!" Chris shook his head as looked down at the pile of papers in front of him. "This long trip out of the country is killing me. I don't know what the hell is going on with my little brother but bills are piling up. He's not showing up to open the facility. I still have to deal with his fucking gambling debt later on today. Sometimes I just wanna…"
"Put your fist through his face", Frankie blurted, finishing his thought for him.
Chris finally showed a glimpse of snapping out of his funk by cracking a smile. "Exactly", he muttered while his eyes widened and he ran his fingers through his wavy hair. "I just don't know what his deal is lately. Nick's never been one to get mixed with the wrong crowd. He's always had his head straight. This is so unlike him."
"It could be a cry for help." Frankie grasped Chris's attention, causing him to lean just a little further. "I mean Nick has been out of wrestling for how long now? He obviously is searching for something to fill that void. And in the process he may be letting other things fall by the side."
Chris thought for a moment, trying to recollect Nick's last match. "I think it might have been two thousand and four. So yeah, about nine years. Damn…I can't believe it's been that long."
As an outside party Frankie seemed to have a better grasp on the reality of the situation and broke it down for Chris. "He realizes that something missing. Like you he strives for competition. Something about it really defines you guys. But physically he can't do it anymore. Now he's found a new method by placing bets. He gets the same rush he used to get even though he's not the one out there. And in his search he's neglected this place. You're going to have to be the big brother and have a talk to him."
Everything Frankie had been saying made perfect sense but failed to change Chris's attitude. "I did, I just had a talk with him while we were in Athens. when he spilled his guts about his debt. Then I come home to this!" He stood up and threw a stack of bills that were piled up on the desk against the wall. "I guess it's not enough that I'm about to pay ten grand to some fucking piece of shit bookie for him. Now I've got to pay for all these past due bills that he told me he had been paying?"
Frankie sat in his chair as cool and calm as can be. Unfazed by Chris's sudden outburst he brought his right leg up and crossed it over his left. "It's easy to lose your head in times like this Chris, you've got to stay strong. Not just for yourself. For Nick as well, he's going to need you."
The conversation comes to a screeching halt as the door to the office swings open again. This time it's Nick walking in. His eyes immediately wander to the pile of envelopes on the floor. Nick quickly tries to turn around before anything is said. "Hold up Nick", Chris shouted before the door closed shut.
Nick hunched over like a child being called by his full name. He dreaded the lecture he knew he was about to hear. He turned around towards Chris and immediately began apologizing. "I'm sorry Chris, I meant to take care of those before you came back. I didn't think you were going to stop in for the one day you're here ."
Chris walked over and placed an arm around Nick's back, pulling him back in. "And just how were you going to do that? I'm already spotting you ten grand."
Nick anxiously began to stutter over his own words, "I...I...I..."
"You know when we came up with the idea of the warehouse it was supposed to be a fifty fifty split. It was meant to be my nest egg and your way of keeping a foot in the industry. If you can't keep things afloat while I'm away on road trips I might need to rethink this partnership..." Chris removed his arm from his brother and made his way back around the desk.
Frustrated by his brothers insinuations he bewilderedly looked at both Frankie and Chris. "What the hell do you mean by that", he demanded to know while holding his arms out in the air.
"Don't be ridiculous Nick. You can't even pay the god damn bills on time! How the hell do you expect me to trust you at the helm of this place?" The question posed by Chris caused Nick to stand as silent as the grave.
Frankie stood up, trying to intervene. "Okay guys. Let's relax. At the end of the day you guys are still brothers. Maybe you guys should go separate ways for the day and let cooler heads prevail."
"Yeah that sounds great", Chris sarcastically exclaimed. "One minor issue though. He needs to come with me so I can cover your debt. Thus your illustrious plan is fucking impossible!"
Nick bowed his head down in shame. "You don't have to be such a dick. I fucked up. I know, you're pissed, I get it. What more do you want from me?"
Chris stood back up and walked over to his brother. With the tips of their noses nearly pushed against one another, Chris gritted his teeth and angrily whispered, "Get your head out of your ass! This isn't like you. Take some time off and straighten your shit out..."
"Yeah because that will solve everything..." Nick shook his head and stepped back as Frankie and Chris watched on. "Chris I need this place. No, I own half of it, you can't just kick me out. I have just as much of a right to it as you. I will continue on, business as usual."
Frankie suddenly chimed in between the two brothers. "Well actually Nick..." He walked over and placed a hand in his shoulder. "Remember I helped write up the contracts for this place. There was a clause in there that stated if one owner fell on hard times financially the other would assume a majority share of the business leaving the other with a twenty percent share."
"You're kidding me right? Chris you're just going to squeeze me out?" Nick was baffled that his brother would stoop to such tactics.
Chris simply urged, "Until you can figure things out, yeah..."
The three men stood in silence as the tension between the two brothers grew uncomfortably. Frankie yanked at the collar of his dress shirt before standing between the two men as the scene fades.
Chris pulled into the empty parking lot of The Scene strip club in his black Chevy Avalanche. His brother sat anxiously in the passenger seat clutching a small blue gym bag against his chest. Sweat beaded down his forehead as Chris impatiently tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He looked down at the time displayed on the face of the car radio and let out a disapproving grunt.
"Chris, I just wanted to apologize about earlier today. You're right. I don't know where my head is at and I need to get back on the right path." Nick looked over at his brother hoping for some kind of brotherly advice. Anything that might make the situation at least seem okay.
Chris sat there stone faced with his eyes dead set on the entrance to club, completely ignoring his brothers sincere apologies. Glancing down at the clock again, Chris shook his head. "They told you eight o'clock right", he asked without ever making eye contact with his brother.
Nick's self loathing started to sink in as he depressingly uttered, "Yeah".
"You know why I'm so hard on you Nick?" The question lifted Nick's head up as he turned towards his elder brother. "I hold you to a higher standard than most people. Maybe it's me. Maybe I shouldn't expect so much out of you. But we come from the same parents. We have the same bloodlines. The word brother gets tossed around too loosely now a days. I see you as an equal. And I expect you to be able to do everything just as I would. Maybe that's dad speaking in me. He was always hard on us, pushing us way past out comfort level because he felt if he could do something, his sons should be able to as well. You need to take a break from the warehouse. Once your act is straightened out your fifty percent share will be there waiting for you..."
Nick looked unamused by the lecture. He's been in a depression since his injury that took away his one true happiness and he's been a lost soul since. "And where am I supposed to go", he questioned while throwing his hands up in the air.
Chris pointed down by Nick's knees and directed him, "In the glove box."
Nick reached down to the glove box and opened the compartment. Inside was a white envelope that was marked with his name on the front. He looked over at his brother like a child opening a Christmas gift. Nick ripped open the envelope and inside was a plane ticket to Tokyo, Japan. "Japan? You bought me tickets to Japan?"
"No...you bought them", he explained, garnishing a confused look from Nick. "I took it out of your twenty percent share for this month. You leave October first. Go and find yourself. Japan did wonders for me. It helped me become the man I am today. Hopefully their culture can truly effect you like it did me. You'll have a debit card which I'll be funding. Your hotel arrangements had already been made. All you need to do is go and get your head right."
Both Chris and Nick violently turn their heads forward as they hear the doors open. Two men dressed in gray suits step out if the front entrance surrounded by five large bouncers wearing all black. Nick nervously swallowed the saliva that had built up in his mouth. "That's him..." Nick pointed to one of the men wearing a gray suit. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back right above the color of his dress shirt. Gold rings decorated random fingers and he annoyingly chewed on a tooth pick.
"What about this other clown? Who is he?" Chris pointed to the man wearing an all gray suit. He stood slightly off and behind the security. His dark brown hair was shave short in a bit of a horseshoe, really thin on top. The buttons to his dress shirt were open down to his sternum allowing for his curly chest hair to peak through. Similar gold jewelry round out his attire.
"I don't know but something tells me we are about to find out..." With that being said both Madison brothers step out of the vehicle, catching the attention of the security guards. They all step forward creating a barrier between the Madison brothers and the bookie.
"Check them" a voice ordered from behind the wall of brawny bouncers. Chris and Nick stopped about five feet in front of them. They extended their arms out as the bouncers patted them down, checking for weapons. The unknown male walks out from behind the pack and stands confidently with his hands in his pants pockets. "I'm assuming that's my money in that bag." He pointed to the gym bag which Nick held in his outstretched hand.
The occasional brash attitude of Chris Madison showed it's ugly head when he jokingly questioned, "and you are?"
A thick Italian accent intensely yelled, "I'm Angelo, who the fuck are you?"
"I'm the guy paying him his money." Chris pointed at the bookie who was still a fixture in the background. "My feeble minded brother was dumb enough to make some bets with him."
"Well let me explain to you how this works. That gentlemen back there is on my payroll. He works for me. Which means his money is my money. And Mr. Madison, I take my money very seriously. When someone owes me fifteen grand...I make sure that everything goes smoothly." He smirked as he smacked his hands together while he talked.
Nick and Chris simultaneously looked at one another. Chris seemed enraged while Nick shrugged his shoulders. Chris being the more vocal of the two raised a bit of concern to Angelo. "Umm, fifteen grand? We were under the assumption it was ten grand."
Angelo looked over at the bookie and his bouncers. The group joined together laughing at the two brothers. "Well you assumed wrong. Do I need to explain what interest is?"
"No I know how interest works but today was the deadline your bookie set with my brother!" Chris looked over at Nick furiously. Nick sat there second guessing himself.
"Wrong once again Mr. Madison. Nick had until Monday night to pay up. Unless my calendars are wrong today is Tuesday. Thus you owe me an extra five grand!" Angelo signaled for one of the bouncers to grab the bag from Nick. After retrieving it he brings it to Angelo who begins to scour through the bag. "Yep, definitely owe me another five grand."
Chris feverishly scratched at his beard stubble and bit his lips trying to hold back an outburst. Nick played the role of the bumbling idiot, apologizing for the mix up. "Angelo I'm sorry. I'm sure we can come up with the other five. It won't be an issue. I promise!"
Chris turned his back momentarily trying to collect his thoughts. He gazed out into the distance, watching cars zoom passed on the nearby Long Island Expressway. He shouted over the noisy traffic, "I can definitely get you that other five tonight."
Angelo smirked, "You can't just expect me to take your word. To me you're nothing. And your word is as valuable as the scum under my shoes! Boys you know what to do!"
Chris quickly spun around towards a charging bouncer. The bouncer scooped him up and tackled him to the ground. Madison covered up, blocking a series of punches. He bucked his hips which sent the larger man stumbling forward. As Chris got to his feet he was blindsided by a second bouncer who hit him in the bak of the head with a blackjack, knocking him unconscious.
Nick quickly tried to charge that bouncer but two of them snatched him up and held him in place. Just then the bookie who has been quiet throughout this altercation walks up to nick and grabs him by his jaw. "You should have just paid up. Angelo is going to get even regardless of who your brother is." He released his grip of Nick's face.
Nick instinctively sucked back and then spat in the face of the bookie. One of the bouncers nails Nick with a stiff right hand that instantly ruptures his nose. With blood pouring down his mouth and chest Nick goes limp in the arms of the bouncers. Angelo stands aside and motions to one of the bouncers who suddenly approaches Nick. He pulls out the same blackjack and clobbers Nick aside of the head! Nick becomes dead weight and the bouncers drop him to the ground before all five start stomping him out.
Chris started to come to and crawled towards his brothers beaten body. Angelo walked over to Chris and squatted down while grabbing him by the back of the head. "Consider us even. Now be a good boy and keep your mouth shut about all of this..." Angelo bounced Madison's head off of the pavement. He rose back to his feet and reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of cash. He shuffles through the bills and drops a few hundred dollar bills on him. "That should suffice..."
Angelo walks away as his crew follows him back into the gentlemen's club. He peers back at the two Madison brothers who are trying pull themselves together.
------------------------------------------
"Just like the league, the Sindicate is dead!"
"There's only one pack of wolves in the APW and it's us, the Black Hand! Not the Sindicate!"
"Over the past few weeks Johnny Rebel has resurfaced from whatever decrepit retirement home he's been stuffed away in. He's resurfaced with the hopes of rekindling a connection with out APW Heavyweight Champion, Level-One."
"Hell the last time the APW faithful saw you before this current resurrection was the Meltdown finale. How did that end? Right, Michael Jennings, one of the Black Hands own, pinned your shoulders down to the mat as the ref counted to three. This week will be no different. The Black Hand is far superior than Johnny Rebel!"
"You know I'm surprised we've never crossed paths before Johnny. Both of us have been at this for a long time. Yet somehow we've managed to always work for different organizations. Back in your heyday this might be a match that the internet fans would be clamoring for. Present day they're just hoping that I don't slaughter the old man who has done nothing in recent memory."
"It's actually kind of pathetic. Jeff allows you to crawl back to the ring damn near begging for Lester to take you back only a few months removed from your lackluster return to Meltdown. Whatever face you saved while being fired as General Manager of Meltdown has been completely obliterated. You are an embarrassment and should have stayed tucked away on the shelf where you belong. I will not be held responsible for my actions on Thursday. I will not be accountable for putting an abrupt end to this will he, won't he, reunion with Lester!"
"I don't know what you thought was going to happen when you returned. Did you honestly think Level-One was going to just welcome you back with open arms and the two of you would sit atop the APW roster like the untouchable kings you think you are? What do you offer that Lester doesn't have already? Nothing but a washed up old has been to look after. A distraction from what truly matters more than anything else in this industry; maintaining his championship reign!"
"Well I guess it's my obligation to take the old dog out to the pasture. The fans don't want to see your old ass strut around here, a mere figment of what you once were. It's tough to watch a wrestler who's unwilling and unable to recognize when they just don't have it anymore. They don't want to be bored to death while try to convince yourself that you 'still got it'. I guess I can take a week off from sticking it to the Space Cowboys in order to crush your triumphant return."
"Everyone looks at my partnership with Tommy and sees me as his lackey. But that's not the case, rest assured I'm sick and tired of not being taken as a serious threat here in APW. I'm out to prove that Chris Madison is a man not to be fucked with! And what better way then putting down the heir apparent number one contender. This isn't anything personal Johnny. In all reality I could give two shits if you and Lester tear each other apart or reform your precious little tag team. For me it's not about titles or power. I'm just looking for someone to put my fist through!"
"And this week your that guy Johnny...I don't care for reputations and I'm sure as hell no history buff. When the ref rigs that bell none of that matters. All that matters is who wants it more. Who has that drive to succeed. I made an example out of Kurt Styles a few weeks ago. But let's be honest, a name like Kurt Styles barely sends ripples through the locker room. Now Johnny Rebel...you leaving on a stretcher...that would open a few more eyes, perhaps even smarten up the Space Cowboys enough for them to walk away before it's too late!"
"I've got nothing to lose in this match. You beat me where does that put me? Amongst the middle of the of APW purgatory where I already am. But if you lose...then what? What does that say about the future APW heavyweight championship match? What does that say about One Night in Hell? It's that kind of chaos that I love. What a controversy that would create. The number one contender falls to a guy who's just trying to stay afloat."
"How sweet of a victory would that be? The Anti-Hero takes down the Rebel! Simply Fucking Put, Chris Madison abruptly ends the fairy tale comeback of Johnny Rebel!"
"Hashtag, Upset Special!"
"CJ's face said it all when he had to deal with the realization that he had just lost to Niobe. But so is life…one month you're on top of the world challenging Level-One for the APW World Heavyweight Championship and the next you're rubbing elbows with the lowly likes of us in the Black Hand."
"And to think, all of this could have been averted. CJ was never on our radar, at least for the time being. His little pal Biggs was the one we wanted. Biggs was the one, who much like Kurt Styles, just couldn't stay out of our business. Kurt was dealt with and as will Biggs be. The only difference is that Biggs has people who look out for him. APW's special little space cadet has a big brother to watch over his shoulder."
"What the Space Cowboys are quickly learning is that no one is out of the reach of the Black Hand! No one!"
"But where does it end? How does it end?"
"I only see one resolution to this powder keg. Much like Kurt Styles learned the hard way. You fuck with us and we won't stop coming. We are resilient in a pesky way. We're that annoying itch right between your shoulder blades that's just out of reach. This only ends with CJ Gates and Biggs being carried out on a stretcher!"
"But first I have bigger fish to fry."
"Another APW megastar whose name is enriched with history."
"Simply Fucking Put, Chris Madison gets himself some of Johnny Rebel."
Tuesday, September 17th, 2013
The Warehouse Training Facility, Long Island, New York
12:35 PM
The Warehouse Training Facility, Long Island, New York
12:35 PM
Chris Madison sat in his office inside his training facility behind a large oak desk. The large room displayed championships he has won over his years of pro wrestling, all presented in large glass cases which were secured to the wall. Various promotional posters and photographs of Madison with other wrestlers layer the wall like wallpaper. Chris was shuffling through some papers as there was a knock on his door.
"Come in", he yelled inviting his guest into his office.
Frankie Morrison slowly pushed the door open before shuffling into the office. His jaw dropped as Chris sat behind mounds of envelopes on his desk. Frankie instantly noticed how rundown Chris had looked, his hair was messy, his clothing stained and disheveled. "What the hell is going on Chris", he questioned while lifting a gym bag from the seat opposite Chris. He placed the bag on the floor along the wall and took a seat.
"Don't even get me started Frankie!" Chris shook his head as looked down at the pile of papers in front of him. "This long trip out of the country is killing me. I don't know what the hell is going on with my little brother but bills are piling up. He's not showing up to open the facility. I still have to deal with his fucking gambling debt later on today. Sometimes I just wanna…"
"Put your fist through his face", Frankie blurted, finishing his thought for him.
Chris finally showed a glimpse of snapping out of his funk by cracking a smile. "Exactly", he muttered while his eyes widened and he ran his fingers through his wavy hair. "I just don't know what his deal is lately. Nick's never been one to get mixed with the wrong crowd. He's always had his head straight. This is so unlike him."
"It could be a cry for help." Frankie grasped Chris's attention, causing him to lean just a little further. "I mean Nick has been out of wrestling for how long now? He obviously is searching for something to fill that void. And in the process he may be letting other things fall by the side."
Chris thought for a moment, trying to recollect Nick's last match. "I think it might have been two thousand and four. So yeah, about nine years. Damn…I can't believe it's been that long."
As an outside party Frankie seemed to have a better grasp on the reality of the situation and broke it down for Chris. "He realizes that something missing. Like you he strives for competition. Something about it really defines you guys. But physically he can't do it anymore. Now he's found a new method by placing bets. He gets the same rush he used to get even though he's not the one out there. And in his search he's neglected this place. You're going to have to be the big brother and have a talk to him."
Everything Frankie had been saying made perfect sense but failed to change Chris's attitude. "I did, I just had a talk with him while we were in Athens. when he spilled his guts about his debt. Then I come home to this!" He stood up and threw a stack of bills that were piled up on the desk against the wall. "I guess it's not enough that I'm about to pay ten grand to some fucking piece of shit bookie for him. Now I've got to pay for all these past due bills that he told me he had been paying?"
Frankie sat in his chair as cool and calm as can be. Unfazed by Chris's sudden outburst he brought his right leg up and crossed it over his left. "It's easy to lose your head in times like this Chris, you've got to stay strong. Not just for yourself. For Nick as well, he's going to need you."
The conversation comes to a screeching halt as the door to the office swings open again. This time it's Nick walking in. His eyes immediately wander to the pile of envelopes on the floor. Nick quickly tries to turn around before anything is said. "Hold up Nick", Chris shouted before the door closed shut.
Nick hunched over like a child being called by his full name. He dreaded the lecture he knew he was about to hear. He turned around towards Chris and immediately began apologizing. "I'm sorry Chris, I meant to take care of those before you came back. I didn't think you were going to stop in for the one day you're here ."
Chris walked over and placed an arm around Nick's back, pulling him back in. "And just how were you going to do that? I'm already spotting you ten grand."
Nick anxiously began to stutter over his own words, "I...I...I..."
"You know when we came up with the idea of the warehouse it was supposed to be a fifty fifty split. It was meant to be my nest egg and your way of keeping a foot in the industry. If you can't keep things afloat while I'm away on road trips I might need to rethink this partnership..." Chris removed his arm from his brother and made his way back around the desk.
Frustrated by his brothers insinuations he bewilderedly looked at both Frankie and Chris. "What the hell do you mean by that", he demanded to know while holding his arms out in the air.
"Don't be ridiculous Nick. You can't even pay the god damn bills on time! How the hell do you expect me to trust you at the helm of this place?" The question posed by Chris caused Nick to stand as silent as the grave.
Frankie stood up, trying to intervene. "Okay guys. Let's relax. At the end of the day you guys are still brothers. Maybe you guys should go separate ways for the day and let cooler heads prevail."
"Yeah that sounds great", Chris sarcastically exclaimed. "One minor issue though. He needs to come with me so I can cover your debt. Thus your illustrious plan is fucking impossible!"
Nick bowed his head down in shame. "You don't have to be such a dick. I fucked up. I know, you're pissed, I get it. What more do you want from me?"
Chris stood back up and walked over to his brother. With the tips of their noses nearly pushed against one another, Chris gritted his teeth and angrily whispered, "Get your head out of your ass! This isn't like you. Take some time off and straighten your shit out..."
"Yeah because that will solve everything..." Nick shook his head and stepped back as Frankie and Chris watched on. "Chris I need this place. No, I own half of it, you can't just kick me out. I have just as much of a right to it as you. I will continue on, business as usual."
Frankie suddenly chimed in between the two brothers. "Well actually Nick..." He walked over and placed a hand in his shoulder. "Remember I helped write up the contracts for this place. There was a clause in there that stated if one owner fell on hard times financially the other would assume a majority share of the business leaving the other with a twenty percent share."
"You're kidding me right? Chris you're just going to squeeze me out?" Nick was baffled that his brother would stoop to such tactics.
Chris simply urged, "Until you can figure things out, yeah..."
The three men stood in silence as the tension between the two brothers grew uncomfortably. Frankie yanked at the collar of his dress shirt before standing between the two men as the scene fades.
Tuesday, September 17th, 2013
The Scene Strip Club, Commack, New York
08:00 P.M.
The Scene Strip Club, Commack, New York
08:00 P.M.
Chris pulled into the empty parking lot of The Scene strip club in his black Chevy Avalanche. His brother sat anxiously in the passenger seat clutching a small blue gym bag against his chest. Sweat beaded down his forehead as Chris impatiently tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He looked down at the time displayed on the face of the car radio and let out a disapproving grunt.
"Chris, I just wanted to apologize about earlier today. You're right. I don't know where my head is at and I need to get back on the right path." Nick looked over at his brother hoping for some kind of brotherly advice. Anything that might make the situation at least seem okay.
Chris sat there stone faced with his eyes dead set on the entrance to club, completely ignoring his brothers sincere apologies. Glancing down at the clock again, Chris shook his head. "They told you eight o'clock right", he asked without ever making eye contact with his brother.
Nick's self loathing started to sink in as he depressingly uttered, "Yeah".
"You know why I'm so hard on you Nick?" The question lifted Nick's head up as he turned towards his elder brother. "I hold you to a higher standard than most people. Maybe it's me. Maybe I shouldn't expect so much out of you. But we come from the same parents. We have the same bloodlines. The word brother gets tossed around too loosely now a days. I see you as an equal. And I expect you to be able to do everything just as I would. Maybe that's dad speaking in me. He was always hard on us, pushing us way past out comfort level because he felt if he could do something, his sons should be able to as well. You need to take a break from the warehouse. Once your act is straightened out your fifty percent share will be there waiting for you..."
Nick looked unamused by the lecture. He's been in a depression since his injury that took away his one true happiness and he's been a lost soul since. "And where am I supposed to go", he questioned while throwing his hands up in the air.
Chris pointed down by Nick's knees and directed him, "In the glove box."
Nick reached down to the glove box and opened the compartment. Inside was a white envelope that was marked with his name on the front. He looked over at his brother like a child opening a Christmas gift. Nick ripped open the envelope and inside was a plane ticket to Tokyo, Japan. "Japan? You bought me tickets to Japan?"
"No...you bought them", he explained, garnishing a confused look from Nick. "I took it out of your twenty percent share for this month. You leave October first. Go and find yourself. Japan did wonders for me. It helped me become the man I am today. Hopefully their culture can truly effect you like it did me. You'll have a debit card which I'll be funding. Your hotel arrangements had already been made. All you need to do is go and get your head right."
Both Chris and Nick violently turn their heads forward as they hear the doors open. Two men dressed in gray suits step out if the front entrance surrounded by five large bouncers wearing all black. Nick nervously swallowed the saliva that had built up in his mouth. "That's him..." Nick pointed to one of the men wearing a gray suit. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back right above the color of his dress shirt. Gold rings decorated random fingers and he annoyingly chewed on a tooth pick.
"What about this other clown? Who is he?" Chris pointed to the man wearing an all gray suit. He stood slightly off and behind the security. His dark brown hair was shave short in a bit of a horseshoe, really thin on top. The buttons to his dress shirt were open down to his sternum allowing for his curly chest hair to peak through. Similar gold jewelry round out his attire.
"I don't know but something tells me we are about to find out..." With that being said both Madison brothers step out of the vehicle, catching the attention of the security guards. They all step forward creating a barrier between the Madison brothers and the bookie.
"Check them" a voice ordered from behind the wall of brawny bouncers. Chris and Nick stopped about five feet in front of them. They extended their arms out as the bouncers patted them down, checking for weapons. The unknown male walks out from behind the pack and stands confidently with his hands in his pants pockets. "I'm assuming that's my money in that bag." He pointed to the gym bag which Nick held in his outstretched hand.
The occasional brash attitude of Chris Madison showed it's ugly head when he jokingly questioned, "and you are?"
A thick Italian accent intensely yelled, "I'm Angelo, who the fuck are you?"
"I'm the guy paying him his money." Chris pointed at the bookie who was still a fixture in the background. "My feeble minded brother was dumb enough to make some bets with him."
"Well let me explain to you how this works. That gentlemen back there is on my payroll. He works for me. Which means his money is my money. And Mr. Madison, I take my money very seriously. When someone owes me fifteen grand...I make sure that everything goes smoothly." He smirked as he smacked his hands together while he talked.
Nick and Chris simultaneously looked at one another. Chris seemed enraged while Nick shrugged his shoulders. Chris being the more vocal of the two raised a bit of concern to Angelo. "Umm, fifteen grand? We were under the assumption it was ten grand."
Angelo looked over at the bookie and his bouncers. The group joined together laughing at the two brothers. "Well you assumed wrong. Do I need to explain what interest is?"
"No I know how interest works but today was the deadline your bookie set with my brother!" Chris looked over at Nick furiously. Nick sat there second guessing himself.
"Wrong once again Mr. Madison. Nick had until Monday night to pay up. Unless my calendars are wrong today is Tuesday. Thus you owe me an extra five grand!" Angelo signaled for one of the bouncers to grab the bag from Nick. After retrieving it he brings it to Angelo who begins to scour through the bag. "Yep, definitely owe me another five grand."
Chris feverishly scratched at his beard stubble and bit his lips trying to hold back an outburst. Nick played the role of the bumbling idiot, apologizing for the mix up. "Angelo I'm sorry. I'm sure we can come up with the other five. It won't be an issue. I promise!"
Chris turned his back momentarily trying to collect his thoughts. He gazed out into the distance, watching cars zoom passed on the nearby Long Island Expressway. He shouted over the noisy traffic, "I can definitely get you that other five tonight."
Angelo smirked, "You can't just expect me to take your word. To me you're nothing. And your word is as valuable as the scum under my shoes! Boys you know what to do!"
Chris quickly spun around towards a charging bouncer. The bouncer scooped him up and tackled him to the ground. Madison covered up, blocking a series of punches. He bucked his hips which sent the larger man stumbling forward. As Chris got to his feet he was blindsided by a second bouncer who hit him in the bak of the head with a blackjack, knocking him unconscious.
Nick quickly tried to charge that bouncer but two of them snatched him up and held him in place. Just then the bookie who has been quiet throughout this altercation walks up to nick and grabs him by his jaw. "You should have just paid up. Angelo is going to get even regardless of who your brother is." He released his grip of Nick's face.
Nick instinctively sucked back and then spat in the face of the bookie. One of the bouncers nails Nick with a stiff right hand that instantly ruptures his nose. With blood pouring down his mouth and chest Nick goes limp in the arms of the bouncers. Angelo stands aside and motions to one of the bouncers who suddenly approaches Nick. He pulls out the same blackjack and clobbers Nick aside of the head! Nick becomes dead weight and the bouncers drop him to the ground before all five start stomping him out.
Chris started to come to and crawled towards his brothers beaten body. Angelo walked over to Chris and squatted down while grabbing him by the back of the head. "Consider us even. Now be a good boy and keep your mouth shut about all of this..." Angelo bounced Madison's head off of the pavement. He rose back to his feet and reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of cash. He shuffles through the bills and drops a few hundred dollar bills on him. "That should suffice..."
Angelo walks away as his crew follows him back into the gentlemen's club. He peers back at the two Madison brothers who are trying pull themselves together.
------------------------------------------
"Just like the league, the Sindicate is dead!"
"There's only one pack of wolves in the APW and it's us, the Black Hand! Not the Sindicate!"
"Over the past few weeks Johnny Rebel has resurfaced from whatever decrepit retirement home he's been stuffed away in. He's resurfaced with the hopes of rekindling a connection with out APW Heavyweight Champion, Level-One."
"Hell the last time the APW faithful saw you before this current resurrection was the Meltdown finale. How did that end? Right, Michael Jennings, one of the Black Hands own, pinned your shoulders down to the mat as the ref counted to three. This week will be no different. The Black Hand is far superior than Johnny Rebel!"
"You know I'm surprised we've never crossed paths before Johnny. Both of us have been at this for a long time. Yet somehow we've managed to always work for different organizations. Back in your heyday this might be a match that the internet fans would be clamoring for. Present day they're just hoping that I don't slaughter the old man who has done nothing in recent memory."
"It's actually kind of pathetic. Jeff allows you to crawl back to the ring damn near begging for Lester to take you back only a few months removed from your lackluster return to Meltdown. Whatever face you saved while being fired as General Manager of Meltdown has been completely obliterated. You are an embarrassment and should have stayed tucked away on the shelf where you belong. I will not be held responsible for my actions on Thursday. I will not be accountable for putting an abrupt end to this will he, won't he, reunion with Lester!"
"I don't know what you thought was going to happen when you returned. Did you honestly think Level-One was going to just welcome you back with open arms and the two of you would sit atop the APW roster like the untouchable kings you think you are? What do you offer that Lester doesn't have already? Nothing but a washed up old has been to look after. A distraction from what truly matters more than anything else in this industry; maintaining his championship reign!"
"Well I guess it's my obligation to take the old dog out to the pasture. The fans don't want to see your old ass strut around here, a mere figment of what you once were. It's tough to watch a wrestler who's unwilling and unable to recognize when they just don't have it anymore. They don't want to be bored to death while try to convince yourself that you 'still got it'. I guess I can take a week off from sticking it to the Space Cowboys in order to crush your triumphant return."
"Everyone looks at my partnership with Tommy and sees me as his lackey. But that's not the case, rest assured I'm sick and tired of not being taken as a serious threat here in APW. I'm out to prove that Chris Madison is a man not to be fucked with! And what better way then putting down the heir apparent number one contender. This isn't anything personal Johnny. In all reality I could give two shits if you and Lester tear each other apart or reform your precious little tag team. For me it's not about titles or power. I'm just looking for someone to put my fist through!"
"And this week your that guy Johnny...I don't care for reputations and I'm sure as hell no history buff. When the ref rigs that bell none of that matters. All that matters is who wants it more. Who has that drive to succeed. I made an example out of Kurt Styles a few weeks ago. But let's be honest, a name like Kurt Styles barely sends ripples through the locker room. Now Johnny Rebel...you leaving on a stretcher...that would open a few more eyes, perhaps even smarten up the Space Cowboys enough for them to walk away before it's too late!"
"I've got nothing to lose in this match. You beat me where does that put me? Amongst the middle of the of APW purgatory where I already am. But if you lose...then what? What does that say about the future APW heavyweight championship match? What does that say about One Night in Hell? It's that kind of chaos that I love. What a controversy that would create. The number one contender falls to a guy who's just trying to stay afloat."
"How sweet of a victory would that be? The Anti-Hero takes down the Rebel! Simply Fucking Put, Chris Madison abruptly ends the fairy tale comeback of Johnny Rebel!"
"Hashtag, Upset Special!"
