Post by King Incredible on Mar 21, 2014 17:01:52 GMT -5
Wednesday Afternoon
Inside his broken down 2002 Honda Civic, Silver Willard texted me the address I asked him to look up in regards to any dance studios around the Orlando area, preferably ballet. As the message sent Silver got out his car in the parkade in Chicago, Illinois, as the rain smashed hair on the pavement outside. He walked down the concrete stairs from the fifth level onto the ground floor and passed the corner where Charlie’s Chicago gay club was and across North Broadway Street towards Quad’s Gym; a very famous gym known for celebrity visits such as Michael Jordan, Rodney Harrison and Sean Hayes.
Before going inside Silver checked his pocket and pinned his “Silver Willard – Quad’s Manager” tag above his left breast before going into the gym. The clerk working the main entrance winked as Silver winked back and nonchalantly grabbed a brass key from him. Silver heads into the manager’s office right behind the counter where there is a lot of papers scattered around unorganized. There is a door that reads “Authorized Personal Only” as Silver unlocks this and locks it behind him quickly. He races down the stairs where at the bottom of the dark stairwell is another locked door with a single light illuminating the landing. He steps inside the large room which has many devices and instruments like organic solvents, purifiers and chemistry sets. Silver puts on a lab coat and heads down the stairs further down where he meets his good pal, Jake Brown.
“Meeting Jake.”
The words came out of Silver’s mouth coldly and forcefully… and not with the Irish accent like he talked with me but a more thick New York accent. Jake stops his production and takes off his goggles and breathing mask and heads into a small room with a wooden table, few steel chairs and a mirror on one side of the room facing the door. Silver and Jake come in and are followed by another man, Ocean Vaughn, as his large body makes the room seem smaller as he squeezes his hips into one of the chairs. Jake sits down next to Ocean as Silver sits on the table and accesses his phone. He looks to his bank app and searches his account and he begins to laugh.
“What’s so funny, boss?” Ocean squeaked, as you wouldn’t have guessed his large frame came with a mouse-like voice.
“Nothing funny, by’,” Silver smirked, putting his phone away, “just satisfied. We got the Canadian to send us funds and were ready for business.”
Ocean and Jake high five as they can finally start producing mountains of merchandise.
“This is wonderful,” Jake exclaimed, giving a thumbs up, “the coke trade here in this awful city has been lame for a few years but finally we’ll make it worthwhile again."
“Truer words have never been spoken,” Silver agreed, slamming his fists on the table and letting out a whoop, “so… do you guys want to know how much money were going to be making?”
Ocean and Jake both shake their heads not knowing but lean in as Silver begins to explain how rich they are going to get.
“We are going to be moving this shit fast,” Silver explained using hand motions, even though they didn’t really help, “I’ve got my dealers and you two got your dealers. I want to try to sell a kilo in a maximum of a couple days. We are going to be selling it at twenty dollars for every point one of a gram. Add that up, that’s about twenty thousand a kilo. We’ve got enough supplies right now to make about, I’d say twenty-five kilos so that is going to work out to be about five hundred thousand dollars.”
“Half a million?” Jake cried out in excitement, jumping up and down in his chair, “that’s crazy!”
“Yes,” Silver acknowledged, “now… about Ian…”
“Yeah about Ian,” Ocean cut off as he leaned in even further, the support of the chair working overtime, “did I hear you say something correctly you were offering him fifty percent?”
“What the fuck?” Jake swore, getting up from his seat about to throw one at Silver, “Ocean and I are here doing all the damn work, you’re going to give Bishop a quarter of a million, were going to give the dealers five percent and then split forty five percent between the three of us? That’s only seventy five thousand… that should be the hazard pay MINIMUM!”
“Calm the hell down both of you,” Silver grinned, “do you actually think I’m going to give this guy that much money because he gave us money and wants to call it IncrediCoke?”
Ocean and Jake stare at each other with the mention of the brand name and begin to laugh hysterically.
“Really?” Ocean cried, wiping tears from his eyes, “that’s what he wants to call it?”
“I think it is a tad catchy,” Silver admitted, rubbing his thumbs, “but we’re going to fool him and say it’s been a bit harder to move everything when in reality we know there are a bunch of people wanting this powder. So we’ll give the dealers five… he’ll get ten… and the seventy-five will go to us! That’s one hundred twenty five thousand… each. Sound better?”
“A lot better!” Jake sighed, “what a dumb fucking Canadian.”
“They’re pretty gullible,” Silver laughed, “anyways, let’s get to it. I’ll started making some phone calls and you two do what you do best. Boys… we’re going to be millionaires.”
Silver shook both of Ocean’s and Jake’s right hand as he pats them on the back with his other hand and they all leave the cramped room. Ocean and Jake put their lab coats back on and they’re other equipment as they start to the tough process of extracting the cocaine from the cocoa leaves as Silver goes back upstairs and sits at a computer desk and picks up the phone.
***
Friday Evening
It was the end of the week and there was a cloud cover with warm winds. Green, blue and pink LED lights shone throughout the dark night as there was a large lineup to get into one of Orlando’s hottest night clubs; Roxy Orlando. Every five minutes or so bouncers were checking people’s ID’s and frisking strange ones to make sure they weren’t carrying anything off before letting them into the club. The vibrating bass of hip hop music could be heard almost half a mile away as an incredibly vintage blue with light gray sport stripes 1969 Chevrolet Camaro pulls up on Pinecrest Place and parks the car. The driver and passenger cars open as Mario Maurako gets out as do I, followed by Roach from behind my seat who was seated in the back. We are all sharply dressed in black pants and different dress shirts, Mario’s white, Roach’s dark blue and mine pink.
“Wait… I thought Fuller was meeting us here?” Roach asked in confusion.
“I couldn’t get a hold of him,” I explained, looking at my phone to see if he texted but nothing, “he’s probably off sacrificing a cow for his initiation or something.”
All three of them shared a laugh as they completely skipped the line that was waiting to get in and went for the entrance but the two bouncers blocked it and pointed to the end of the line.
“Excuse me?” Mario began, laughing at their rudeness, “I booked a VIP room for me and my right hand men.”
“VIP rooms are full right now,” one bouncer said, “back of line.”
“Do you not know who I am?” Mario scoffed, insulted, “I am Triple M… Marvelous Mario Maurako of OCW. Two time OCW Hall of Famer!”
“I am OCW Central Champion,” I piped up, “the Incredible Ian Bishop!”
“And I’m Mr. Hardcore baby,” Roach beamed, “Roach… I love to party!”
The other bouncer got right into Mario’s face and with his words blew some spit onto his face.
“Back of the line… don’t make me say it again.”
Mario wipes the spit off his face and cocks an eyebrow as his anger climbs.
“Bad decision dumbass—“
“Wait!”
I call out getting in front of Mario not wanting a fight to start. I put my arm around the bouncer as I walk him away from the noisy crowd so it’s just the two of us.
“Listen here… um, what’s your name?” I ask in a very Jack Nicholson like way.
“Wesley,” the black bouncer replied with a very deep tone.
“Wesley,” I exclaimed, “I know you’ve got a pretty tough job. A bouncer at a nightclub but not just ANY nightclub, THE nightclub in Orlando… Roxy! It’s even tougher... so let me tell you something...”
I open my wallet and pull out six hundred dollars in one hundred dollar bills and stuff them in the bouncers shirt pocket.
“Here’s a little tip for you guys doing such a fine job and why don’t you guys kick some idiots out of the VIP room my good friend Mario ordered? I think that would be best.”
The bouncer takes the bills out of his pocket, neatly folds them up and sticks them in his wallet as we turn around towards the line again. Mario and Roach wait there patiently as the bouncer opens the doors to the club and I walk in as Mario and Roach follow suit. The heat dramatically increases as we begin to enter into the black light lit dance room and Mario’s shirt lights up like a white Christmas tree. Mario flashes a VIP card as a very beautiful blonde in a short skirt and tight black shirt walks scantily over to an empty VIP room. We enter it and it is one the best VIP rooms I’ve ever seen; inside is woman in the corner arms around each other winking and smiling at each other, on the other side was our very own bartender and a few large comfy looking chairs and couches. The lights were very low with red lamps that lit up the corners. Roach goes over to the bartender and hands him two one hundred dollar bills, which he accepts immediately.
“Whatever you see happen tonight,” Roach whispered, “didn’t actually happen.”
“Of course,” the bartender smirks.
Roach and I sit on one of the coaches as Mario sits on a chair as one woman sits between me and Roach and another sits on the arm chair of Mario’s chair and begins to rub his back. He lets out a large grunt as I dump a gram of cocaine out on the table and Roach begins to cut it up. Another lady waltz’ over with bunch of our favorites drinks; of course my rum and coke, Mario’s red wine and Roach’s brew and a jager bomb.
“So, how was everyone’s week? I asked sipping the rum back.
“Well… I had to do eight hours of community work for Give Kids The World and got ice cream all over me, those little punks,” Mario shook his head as Roach and I share a laugh, “oh, you think that’s so funny? Roach… what did you do?”
"I got thrown in the drunk tank and got into a fight with some Disney shits,” Roach laughed, but stopped once a stern look crossed my face.
“And who had to pick you up both fucking times?” I barked as Mario laughed at Roach.
“Fuck, I said I was sorry bud,” Roach exclaimed, taking a drink, “places like Orlando make me go fucking crazy! You know that I like to party… what have you been up to then, eh?”
“Me?” I said, taking another sip, “how about we talk about Blackout 2 and that The Family solidifies its dominance Sunday Night! Mario?”
“Yes!” Mario beamed, “I’m not worried about Pryde, and I’m not worried about any of us losing. We’re the Family and Sunday night we will dominate the show. Plain and simple.”
“Love it,” I nodded, “Roach?”
“Fuck this is fucking awesome,” Roach cheered, looking from our VIP room to all the women out on the dance floor as he shot back the rest of his jager bomb, “I've never been to a night club that's been this poppin’ before. The drinks are flowing and the woman are definitely hammered so it’s going to be easy to pick someone up. Someone else who is easy to pick up is that piece of shit Alice, I'm going to toss her all around the ring. She's has no idea what I am capable of doing to my enemies. This dirt squirrel has no idea what she has gotten herself into when she begged to have it switched to a hardcore match. This is definitely going to be a bloody mess and it’s not going to be pretty, I'm going to fuck this bitch right the fuck up. So this shot I'm about to take her is for the end of Alice Knight and Brianna whatever her last name is.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I said, slamming back the rest of my drink and quickly going to get another, “this will be the FOURTH time I fight Brianna in some way shape or form in the last two months and I’ve had it. No more for me and her! It was suppose to end last month but Sunday night it shall. Fuller will beat MJ, Roach, you’ll crush Alice, Mario you will school Pryde and tonight I will put Brianna to her knees and show her she doesn’t control me, she doesn’t have this grand epic strategy of control over me. I shall show her who the true master is and that I, in fact, am the one in control.”
“You still haven’t told us about your week,” Roach winked.
“Yeah Bishop,” Mario said with a raised voice as his sipped on his wine, “we told you our stories and we’re a family… remember?”
“Fine… I’ll let you know about yesterday night,” I sighed, “but then after that, let us not waste anymore of these ladies precious time and give them a good night?”
All three of us nodded in approval as we all took a sip of our drinks as I began to recall the night.
***
Thursday Evening
It was the end of the week and despite the cloudy night there was a relatively warm breeze filling the air on S John Young Parkway where I was visiting my final destination on my journey to Blackout 2 this Sunday at Universal Studios, Orlando, Florida. It was just a night after I vandalized the Central Florida Ballet as I stepped out of my 2014 Audi TT, courtesy of an old friend, and faced First Baptist Church of Orlando. It was around eight o’clock in the evening as I waited for some traffic to disperse as I then crossed the road and headed inside the large cathedral. The waiting room was empty but was full of empty refreshment dishes and juice pitchers and there was also a lot of obvious religious quotes on the walls, which I didn’t bother to read.
I stepped into the main auditorium that was sparkling clean and empty. Each row had the right amount of literature including the bible as I walked down the steps down to the main area where a minister would conduct his or her sermon. To my left is Father David Uth, the senior pastor of this church who was standing beside a sharp looking oak confession booth. He pointed to where I should go, nodded and stepped inside the booth. I looked up at the ceiling and studied the jagged architect of it with the lights giving off different shades of yellow and orange as I sighed and made my into the booth. I grunted for a moment as I adjusted my Sunday best, even though it wasn’t Sunday, and stared at a bible before smirking and dropping it to my feet and I kicked it to my side gently.
“Forgive me father for I have sinned,” I began as I peered into the other side and saw the Father taking his hand and moving it across his chest in the shape of a cross, “to the best of my knowledge I have never confessed before. These are my list of sins.”
“List?” the Father spoke gently.
“Yes,” I replied matter-of-factly, “where do you want me to begin?”
“Anywhere my child,” Father spoke, getting out his bible, “just got at any pace you choose.”
“Alright,” I said, calming down a bite, “why don’t we start with some basics? I curse like a sailor, I am a racist and sexist, I drink a lot of alcohol, rum specifically. I snort a lot of cocaine, and occasionally smoke a bit of weed and crack. I was sentenced to two years probation over a black hate crime. I do not respect my elders, I cheat at my job whenever possible, I make moves on a woman who is in a relationship; even if they refuse to believe they are in love, for a living I also assault men and woman--”
“Woman… what do you do for a living sir?” the Father quietly asked.
“I am a wrestler.”
The Father doesn’t answer right as he flips through his bible for a passage and he lets out a little cough before reading the verse.
“Ephesians 6:12,” the Father coughed again, “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rules, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.”
“There is this one particular woman I am obsessed with in seeing in pain; hurt and lost,” I said not listening to the Father’s passage but not interrupting him as he spoke it, “her name is Brianna Casablancas… well not, that’s her stage name in my eyes… her real name is Bianca Winifred.”
“What sins have you committed against her?” the Father asked.
“I assaulted her unprovoked,” I started with a big breath, “I then repeatedly assaulted her with weapons until she attacked me back. I cut her flesh with glass and watched her squirm in pain as she bleed all over the ring canvas… in that particular contest I cheated with forming an alliance with OCW Hall of Famer Mario Maurako, named The Family, and cheated to win the first championship OCW had to offer, despite numerous rumours that she won, which is false. I tricked her again into thinking she was going to have an easier time prying this belt from my hands when another good friend of mine, Roach, made it seem he genuinely wanted to hurt me but once again we assaulted her and her homeless friend Alice Knight and made her think again.
Then after a stroke of luck they beat us a couple weeks back but I went down to a personal level with her after she ruined my celebration and attacked her friend, Idris, destroyed her medical certificates and then kidnapped someone dear to her, dragged them across the pond and assaulted that person right in front of her as she was hand cuffed to the ring ropes, by myself, with nothing to do but watch as I decimated her life.”
“Is there anything else?” the Father asked, “whether it be in your life or involving this lady?”
“Not that I know of, no,” I said.
“Then I give you absolution and God awaits your penance for your sins—“
“Sorry Father,” I said cutting him off, “I didn’t come here to tell God I was sorry and I don’t want his apology.”
“Then why did you come here?” he asked.
“What does your bible say about truly evil people,” I asked, clenching my fist, “not Satan worshippers or those who conduct in voodoo and such. I mean people born with black heart?”
The Father appeared a bit nerve shaken by this question as he quickly ran through his bible to find an answer, licking his fingers to help move the pages.
“Proverbs 21:15,” the Father said with a shaky voice, “joy to the just to do judgment: but destruction to the workers of iniquity.”
It’s in that moment that I smash my hand through the thin holed wooden barrier between the Father and I as I drag him through the small crevice and out of the booth my way. I take his bible away from him and pin him up against wall. He begins to murmur a prayer, that appears to be in Latin, as I laugh.
“You think praying to God is going to help you?” I chuckled, throwing the man to the floor and kicking him in the gut, “I don’t know if Brianna is actually religious, Father, but I know one thing. I never want forgiveness for the things I have done to her. I don’t want God to have pity on me and I don’t want God to pray for her safety as he’ll be wasting his time. I came here tonight to show you that there are truly evil people in this world, evil people that just want to see the world in shambles and there is nothing more I want to do Father then to take Brianna by her glowing brown hair and smash her face into tiny pieces all over the canvas and show her fans and colleagues that they have been cheering for a phoney, a false person and I want them to know that it was ME who did. FATHER, it will be me who puts down the schizophrenic cunt of the east and that I am the evil one of OCW.
I am the one that people shall fear when they see me. I want people to tremble by my very presence just like you right now! I WANT PEOPLE TO THINK ABOUT OCW AND WHEN THE DUST SETTLES FIVE, TEN YEARS FROM NOW AND THEY THINK ‘WHO DID I JUST HATE THE MOST’ THAT THEY SAY ME… IAN BISHOP. I want to hear the boos and jeers as I hook Brianna’s leg and the referee slams his hand down… one, two… THREE because I will embrace and fuel it to continue evil acts to every wrestler on this damn roster that opposes the Family and me! If people think that this type of act I am pulling with Brianna is just because of her upsetting me, it’s about ten percent accurate. The other ninety? I’m just a dick.”
I kick the Father one more time as he is on his knees holding his gut as I pluck from my pocket three hundred dollars and throw it on the ground next to him.
“Keep spreading your message,” I said, “this never happened.”
I can hear the Father coughing as I speed walk out of the church and cross the road not looking at the traffic as one car sped right by me. I get into my car and start the ignition as I glance onto the passenger side to see the same file I had yesterday with Brianna’s information. I take out my phone and dial a number quickly… there is no answer as voicemail kicks in so I leave a message.
“Bianca… Sunday, you shall know the truth about me… and that truth shall set me free.”
