Post by Harmony on Nov 11, 2022 16:49:27 GMT -5
I was captivated by the opulence of the interior of Thad Duke’s private jet. A small mini bar was positioned on the far side, and leading to it was fine embroidered carpet bearing the Duke logo. I was presently seated in a leather chair that threatened to engulf me. But as my eyes took in all this finery, I was readily brought back down to Earth by Thad’s voice.
Jesus Harmon, what have you gotten yourself into?
Snapping to, my attention returned to the table before me, replete with Thad’s findings. Covertly taken pictures and pages of reports meticulously put together by the task force he had assigned to my request were cast about. It certainly looked like a lot of work, and I was both surprised and grateful. I scrawled out a note to Thad.
Thank you for this.
Thad looked back at me, shrugging as if this was all truly no big deal. Of course. I said I’d do it.
I wasn’t so sure. Especially after all that stuff I said about Sahara.
He waved his hand dismissively. That’s just business. And Sahara’s a big girl, it takes more than that to hurt her feelings.
Inwardly, I still had some questions about Thad’s choice in marital partners, but I opted to keep them to myself. Thad continued on. But this…he whistled, while gesturing to the intel on the table. If I had known they were this bad I would have helped you no favors asked. These Chingons are bad news. A freaking death cult with it’s fingers in the drug trade, child trafficking, murder. The child trafficking chafes me in particular.
That was certainly no surprise. Say what you will about Thad Duke, but the love he had for his adopted son Frankie was all too obvious. It was one of the things that drew me to him. Perhaps it was because my only parent was so distant. I was willing to forgive Duke a great many things for simply being a great and loving father. Things like that shouldn’t be as hard to find as they are.
So what about The Duke and The Faith? They were the remaining members of the contingent that had been sent to assassinate my mother. And it was The Duke’s bullet that had maimed me and silenced me forever.
Well, first off, fuck this guy for invoking the name “Duke”. Thad chuckled. But seriously, this is gonna be tough kid. My intel suggests that The Duke is still working for The Chingons and operating out of South America, serving as a heavy for their drug trade. His real name is Sebastian Moreau, by the by.
I cursed inwardly. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But still, my frustration was palpable. And the Faith?
Thad sat down across from me with a sigh. I’m sorry Harmon, but I’ve got nothing on the guy. He’s a ghost.
That was unexpected.
Nothing? Could he be dead already?
I don’t know. Maybe. But I couldn’t even scrape together a name. The few people my people did get to talk to about him just about pissed themselves and clammed up immediately. But I’ll keep trying.
I nodded. It had occurred to me that the targets of my ire might be doing the same thing to me, gathering intelligence, discerning my location. I considered forewarning Thad of just this, before realizing it was likely unnecessary. This wasn’t his first proverbial rodeo, and despite his lack of years Duke’s expertise and weath of responsibility had no doubt instilled him with decades of savvy. In short, I didn’t want to insult his intelligence.
So, to switch gears a bit, how are you doing?
I admit, the question caught me off guard. At first, I was unsure what exactly he was referring to. He must have sensed my confusion, as he elaborated further.
I’m asking as your boss, Harmon. You’re one of OCW’s hottest talents right now. And I want to make sure things are going well for you and that you’re satisfied. He smiled a little as he said this, but I wasn’t quite sure why. However, he certainly seemed sincere.
I’m doing ok. I wrote simply. Thad looked at the paper and his features scrunched up a bit.
…just okay?
Things are going very well for me.
Indeed they are. But I’ve been giving you a lot of thought lately, beyond just our little “side business”. And I kind of think I made a bit of a mistake with you.
Why?
You’re not a bastard, Harmon. He said simply, still wearing that slight smile.
So you think I should leave the Bastards? You arranged that.
Right! And no, I don’t think you should leave the Bastards. They’re ratings machines and the eyes of everyone in the promotion are on them, whether they want to admit it or not. No, Harmon, you are a “capital B Bastard” just fine. You’re just not a “lowercase b bastard”.
I cocked my head, indicating my confusion.
You went to bat for my kid after Easton kidnapped him. That’s not something a Thunder Knuckles or a Nickleman would have done, that’s for damn sure. You have heart, a soul. You’re decent.
I just can’t stand seeing kids get hurt.
Thad paused a moment before responding. Something in what I wrote had struck a chord. Nevertheless, he continued. I think it goes beyond that. And I’ve been thinking you need someone to help speak for you that’s more like you. I think you should stay in the Brotherhood of Bastards because it’s a good career move for you. If you can stomach it.
That last line gave me pause, making me wonder if he had heard about Charlie and I’s little disagreement the week prior. If he had, Thad didn’t mention it.
But I also think you need someone more like you to be a…let’s just say a “counterpoint” to the Brotherhood of Bastards….yeah, I think you could use someone like that in your corner too.
Who?
Let me run it past him first, and I’ll get back to you.
I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with being left in the dark, but I gathered I didn’t have much choice.
Well, if you think they can help.
Thad nodded, his smile growing a bit wider, I definitely think they can. And I think you’ll get along with them just fine if we can make this happen. Deal?
Deal.
You know, I really wanted to like you Ball Ball.
And it’s not just because we’re both brothas in a promotion that can tastefully be defined as “melanin deficient”. But because we’ve both been deep in the shit. I imagine it wasn’t a picnic growing up in Sudan. And the tragedy of what happened between you and your mother…well, I FEEL that. Losing my own mother under violent circumstances was the defining moment of my life. I can’t imagine having been the one to accidentally kill her. All that guilt. That anger. That RAGE.
Yeah….the rage. I feel that too.
But we’ve channeled our rages quite differently haven’t we, Ball Ball? I’m dedicated to bringing the people who killed my mother and maimed me to justice. You? Well…
…turns out you just kick the shit out of teenage girls.
Yeah man, I WANTED to like you. But what I saw out of you in that last promo spot? That was pure misdirected rage. Spare me the bullshit about how she was going to injure you. You’re seven plus feet tall and a trained fighter. She was a teenage girl with little to no experience. The fact that she even got the jump on you as much as she did should make you feel ashamed. And what you did to her afterwards should make you doubly ashamed. I saw your face after you laid her out. There was nothing there. A void. So I gotta ask?
Did that make you feel good?
Did you ENJOY that?
See, I’ve been doing some soul searching of my own lately. Asking myself what kind of man I’m becoming. It’s a tough question I still haven’t resolved. And quite frankly, it’s one you should be asking yourself too. I mean, are you even still looking for the man who drugged you and made you kill your own mother? Or are you content to let Lavar lead you about by the nose as you forment a wrestling career that can only be described as mediocre?
And make no mistake. It IS Mediocre. Ask around the locker room, BB. Ask them who they got money on. Me? Or you? The answer is likely to be disheartening.
I just knocked off the TransAtlantic champion. I’ve got two wins over a guy who is currently positioning himself to be a challenger to Pic. And I’ve beaten 3 names on OCW’s Top 10 list. So ask yourself BB. And really dig deep for an honest response.
Is Ball Ball the one who’s gonna stop Harmon Egan?
The answer?
Of course not.
The only thing you got on me is your size, and quite frankly those gangly limbs are just ripe for a snapping once I lock one of my submission holds in on you. And you are far too green to get out once I got my claws down deep in you. You’re gonna tap, Ball Ball. Full stop.
And maybe then, management can rustle me up a challenger whose only proficiency isn’t beating up teenage girls.
The shot reopens on the back of a large sectional couch. Before it, a big screen TV is playing Halloween Kills. And on the chair is, well, the back of someones head. Whoever this is has hair that is a mop of slight brown curls. One arm is strewn casually over the back of the couch. Before long, you hear a hip hop beat start to play and the young man picks up his phone and holds it to his ear.
Ahoy-hoy.
….
Not much, just watching Halloween Kills.
….
Yeah, I know Halloween was 2 weeks ago.
….
Yeah, I know the movie’s been out a while. Look, just because I’m retired doesn’t mean I don’t have things to do. Very important things!
You can hear the voice at the other end of the line laugh.
Okay, okay, what do you want? Laurie’s about to kick some ass and I want to give it my full attention.
….
Bubbeh, we’ve been over this. I’m RETIRED.
….
Okay, I’m just going to cut right to the chase. I’m sorry, but I’m not joining OCW. No offense, but if I’m not going to step back in an XWF ring to deal with Mark Flynn’s goofy ass then I’m definitely not…
…..
Ya huh.
…..
Ya huh.
….
Oh, well why didn’t you just say so in the first place! That kid’s great! I love him!
….
Hell yeah I’ll be his manager. I mean, it’s either that or let Charlie Nickles be his moral compass and I don’t think anyone wants that.
….
You got it, Thaddy Daddy. I’ll be there.
The shot finally swings around revealing none other than former XWF superstar Corey Smith hanging up his phone.
A male voice from off screen calls out to him.
Honey, you better not be wrestling again!
Corey turns in the direction of the voice. Even better….I’m managing! Harmon Egan!
Corey’s boyfriend Pan hops over the back of the couch deftly, managing to not upend his bowl of popcorn. Never heard of him.
Corey throws his arm over Pan’s shoulders. You will. And so will everyone else by the time I’m done!
Jesus Harmon, what have you gotten yourself into?
Snapping to, my attention returned to the table before me, replete with Thad’s findings. Covertly taken pictures and pages of reports meticulously put together by the task force he had assigned to my request were cast about. It certainly looked like a lot of work, and I was both surprised and grateful. I scrawled out a note to Thad.
Thank you for this.
Thad looked back at me, shrugging as if this was all truly no big deal. Of course. I said I’d do it.
I wasn’t so sure. Especially after all that stuff I said about Sahara.
He waved his hand dismissively. That’s just business. And Sahara’s a big girl, it takes more than that to hurt her feelings.
Inwardly, I still had some questions about Thad’s choice in marital partners, but I opted to keep them to myself. Thad continued on. But this…he whistled, while gesturing to the intel on the table. If I had known they were this bad I would have helped you no favors asked. These Chingons are bad news. A freaking death cult with it’s fingers in the drug trade, child trafficking, murder. The child trafficking chafes me in particular.
That was certainly no surprise. Say what you will about Thad Duke, but the love he had for his adopted son Frankie was all too obvious. It was one of the things that drew me to him. Perhaps it was because my only parent was so distant. I was willing to forgive Duke a great many things for simply being a great and loving father. Things like that shouldn’t be as hard to find as they are.
So what about The Duke and The Faith? They were the remaining members of the contingent that had been sent to assassinate my mother. And it was The Duke’s bullet that had maimed me and silenced me forever.
Well, first off, fuck this guy for invoking the name “Duke”. Thad chuckled. But seriously, this is gonna be tough kid. My intel suggests that The Duke is still working for The Chingons and operating out of South America, serving as a heavy for their drug trade. His real name is Sebastian Moreau, by the by.
I cursed inwardly. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But still, my frustration was palpable. And the Faith?
Thad sat down across from me with a sigh. I’m sorry Harmon, but I’ve got nothing on the guy. He’s a ghost.
That was unexpected.
Nothing? Could he be dead already?
I don’t know. Maybe. But I couldn’t even scrape together a name. The few people my people did get to talk to about him just about pissed themselves and clammed up immediately. But I’ll keep trying.
I nodded. It had occurred to me that the targets of my ire might be doing the same thing to me, gathering intelligence, discerning my location. I considered forewarning Thad of just this, before realizing it was likely unnecessary. This wasn’t his first proverbial rodeo, and despite his lack of years Duke’s expertise and weath of responsibility had no doubt instilled him with decades of savvy. In short, I didn’t want to insult his intelligence.
So, to switch gears a bit, how are you doing?
I admit, the question caught me off guard. At first, I was unsure what exactly he was referring to. He must have sensed my confusion, as he elaborated further.
I’m asking as your boss, Harmon. You’re one of OCW’s hottest talents right now. And I want to make sure things are going well for you and that you’re satisfied. He smiled a little as he said this, but I wasn’t quite sure why. However, he certainly seemed sincere.
I’m doing ok. I wrote simply. Thad looked at the paper and his features scrunched up a bit.
…just okay?
Things are going very well for me.
Indeed they are. But I’ve been giving you a lot of thought lately, beyond just our little “side business”. And I kind of think I made a bit of a mistake with you.
Why?
You’re not a bastard, Harmon. He said simply, still wearing that slight smile.
So you think I should leave the Bastards? You arranged that.
Right! And no, I don’t think you should leave the Bastards. They’re ratings machines and the eyes of everyone in the promotion are on them, whether they want to admit it or not. No, Harmon, you are a “capital B Bastard” just fine. You’re just not a “lowercase b bastard”.
I cocked my head, indicating my confusion.
You went to bat for my kid after Easton kidnapped him. That’s not something a Thunder Knuckles or a Nickleman would have done, that’s for damn sure. You have heart, a soul. You’re decent.
I just can’t stand seeing kids get hurt.
Thad paused a moment before responding. Something in what I wrote had struck a chord. Nevertheless, he continued. I think it goes beyond that. And I’ve been thinking you need someone to help speak for you that’s more like you. I think you should stay in the Brotherhood of Bastards because it’s a good career move for you. If you can stomach it.
That last line gave me pause, making me wonder if he had heard about Charlie and I’s little disagreement the week prior. If he had, Thad didn’t mention it.
But I also think you need someone more like you to be a…let’s just say a “counterpoint” to the Brotherhood of Bastards….yeah, I think you could use someone like that in your corner too.
Who?
Let me run it past him first, and I’ll get back to you.
I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with being left in the dark, but I gathered I didn’t have much choice.
Well, if you think they can help.
Thad nodded, his smile growing a bit wider, I definitely think they can. And I think you’ll get along with them just fine if we can make this happen. Deal?
Deal.
Harmon’s Journal: Entry 10
You know, I really wanted to like you Ball Ball.
And it’s not just because we’re both brothas in a promotion that can tastefully be defined as “melanin deficient”. But because we’ve both been deep in the shit. I imagine it wasn’t a picnic growing up in Sudan. And the tragedy of what happened between you and your mother…well, I FEEL that. Losing my own mother under violent circumstances was the defining moment of my life. I can’t imagine having been the one to accidentally kill her. All that guilt. That anger. That RAGE.
Yeah….the rage. I feel that too.
But we’ve channeled our rages quite differently haven’t we, Ball Ball? I’m dedicated to bringing the people who killed my mother and maimed me to justice. You? Well…
…turns out you just kick the shit out of teenage girls.
Yeah man, I WANTED to like you. But what I saw out of you in that last promo spot? That was pure misdirected rage. Spare me the bullshit about how she was going to injure you. You’re seven plus feet tall and a trained fighter. She was a teenage girl with little to no experience. The fact that she even got the jump on you as much as she did should make you feel ashamed. And what you did to her afterwards should make you doubly ashamed. I saw your face after you laid her out. There was nothing there. A void. So I gotta ask?
Did that make you feel good?
Did you ENJOY that?
See, I’ve been doing some soul searching of my own lately. Asking myself what kind of man I’m becoming. It’s a tough question I still haven’t resolved. And quite frankly, it’s one you should be asking yourself too. I mean, are you even still looking for the man who drugged you and made you kill your own mother? Or are you content to let Lavar lead you about by the nose as you forment a wrestling career that can only be described as mediocre?
And make no mistake. It IS Mediocre. Ask around the locker room, BB. Ask them who they got money on. Me? Or you? The answer is likely to be disheartening.
I just knocked off the TransAtlantic champion. I’ve got two wins over a guy who is currently positioning himself to be a challenger to Pic. And I’ve beaten 3 names on OCW’s Top 10 list. So ask yourself BB. And really dig deep for an honest response.
Is Ball Ball the one who’s gonna stop Harmon Egan?
The answer?
Of course not.
The only thing you got on me is your size, and quite frankly those gangly limbs are just ripe for a snapping once I lock one of my submission holds in on you. And you are far too green to get out once I got my claws down deep in you. You’re gonna tap, Ball Ball. Full stop.
And maybe then, management can rustle me up a challenger whose only proficiency isn’t beating up teenage girls.
ELSEWHERE
The shot reopens on the back of a large sectional couch. Before it, a big screen TV is playing Halloween Kills. And on the chair is, well, the back of someones head. Whoever this is has hair that is a mop of slight brown curls. One arm is strewn casually over the back of the couch. Before long, you hear a hip hop beat start to play and the young man picks up his phone and holds it to his ear.
Ahoy-hoy.
….
Not much, just watching Halloween Kills.
….
Yeah, I know Halloween was 2 weeks ago.
….
Yeah, I know the movie’s been out a while. Look, just because I’m retired doesn’t mean I don’t have things to do. Very important things!
You can hear the voice at the other end of the line laugh.
Okay, okay, what do you want? Laurie’s about to kick some ass and I want to give it my full attention.
….
Bubbeh, we’ve been over this. I’m RETIRED.
….
Okay, I’m just going to cut right to the chase. I’m sorry, but I’m not joining OCW. No offense, but if I’m not going to step back in an XWF ring to deal with Mark Flynn’s goofy ass then I’m definitely not…
…..
Ya huh.
…..
Ya huh.
….
Oh, well why didn’t you just say so in the first place! That kid’s great! I love him!
….
Hell yeah I’ll be his manager. I mean, it’s either that or let Charlie Nickles be his moral compass and I don’t think anyone wants that.
….
You got it, Thaddy Daddy. I’ll be there.
The shot finally swings around revealing none other than former XWF superstar Corey Smith hanging up his phone.
A male voice from off screen calls out to him.
Honey, you better not be wrestling again!
Corey turns in the direction of the voice. Even better….I’m managing! Harmon Egan!
Corey’s boyfriend Pan hops over the back of the couch deftly, managing to not upend his bowl of popcorn. Never heard of him.
Corey throws his arm over Pan’s shoulders. You will. And so will everyone else by the time I’m done!