Promo: A Deal with the Devil

[Guest Spider_Nekura]

The salty solution of blood and saliva left a bitterly unpleasant taste in Nekura’s mouth. The taste of failure. He winced and spat out the foul concoction onto the cheap white-tiled locker room floor. It was a pale, watery crimson against the white floor on which his black sports bag lay. Spider wiped the remnants from his mouth with a backhand, adding to the collection of blood and sweat stains that covered his once white taping.

 

“Fuck.” He breathed, angry with himself for his performance. The Reaper had fought two fights since his return and lost both of them. Loss was not something Nekura took lightly. Or forgot. Although he had not actually been pinned by either MacPhisto or Strangler, he’d still lost. Spider ran his hands through his thick black hair, untangling the knots that had formed during the match. His mind raced, replaying the match in his mind’s eye, replaying the accidental kick which cost MacPhisto a beating from the Magnificent 7.

 

“Fuck.” He said again, more clearly this time. His exterior was calm, placid as he sat motionless on the wooden bench. On the inside he was furious. Spider had learned to control his emotions from an early age, it was vital in a tense situation. Nekura had perfected it and it was an important weapon in his arsenal, his main offence - intimidation. Most who knew him would say the sadist didn’t even have emotions. Maybe they were right, even Spider wasn’t so sure anymore. It had started as an act in his childhood, creeping out his enemies with a smirk in retaliation for a punch. The act had now become a reality. Emotion had become the act.

 

Nekura held his hands to his head, trying to figure out a reason for his lack of form. Ring rust. It was ring rust that was costing him these matches, he thought. Spider scoffed at his own pathetic excuse. Nekura didn’t accept excuses from anyone, especially not himself. He had become weak, he told himself. The obnoxious businessmen who had surrounded Spider everywhere he went in Japan had contaminated him and made him weak. Nekura scoffed again. Harder this time. But not at himself, at his time in Japan…

 

*****

 

The Kenji Inamoto Memorial Tower - Osaka, Japan

28th June 2002

 

The room stank of wealth, power and corruption. Twelve men, the quorum number for this meeting, were sat on plush black leather chairs around a long, marble-surfaced table. Eleven men here to put there hard-earned drug, alcohol, gambling and prostitution money into an up and coming corporation. One man here to establish his cult as one of the world’s leading underground crime organisations.

 

Reece slouched across his chair at the head of the table, inattentive, facing away from his acquaintances. He looked out through the window of the room and down onto the bustling city of Osaka. He gipped at the sickly smell of sweat coming from the eleven businessmen. Or maybe it was at the thought of his company, he wasn’t sure. Here he was, Reece Black, cult leader of the Supaida-Kumo Clan in an office surrounded by people he had despised all his life. But he needed this. Badly. This could be the deal that finally sees the Clan as the dominant super-power in the world of organised crime. This could be the start…

 

“Mr.Black.” The strong Japanese accent echoed through the room. It came from an old and thin Japanese man who owned one of many brothels in Osaka. “Mr.Black.” It came again, stern and to the point this time but with an air of uncertainty.

 

Reece span around on his chair, his eye-lids shut tight, not wishing to even lay his eyes on these vermin.

 

“I’m listening, Mr. Nakata.” He replied, managing to raise his eye-lids.

 

“Mr. Black, as I’ve said before, the Supaida-Kumo are indeed powerful but the… ‘cleaning’ business in which you make your trade is not substantial enough for me to invest in. You have to understand. I’m getting old. I need something, aside from the brothel, to ensure my family are tied over and are kept safe for their lives. I’m sorry to say this Mr. Black, but I won’t be financing your causes.”

 

Reece swings back around on his seat, showing a calm visage as he turns. Nakata looks somewhat nervous after handing the bad news to the founder of the Supaida-Kumo. He takes a greedy gulp of water from the expensive crystal-cut glass on the table and wipes the sweat from his brow.

 

“I’m sorry Mr. Black…” He consoles only to be interrupted by Reece.

 

“I fully understand, Mr. Nakata.” Says the Reaper in the calmest, most pleasant voice he can muster.

 

An obese businessman sitting opposite Nakata fidgets in his seat, a grin on his face. He is Donald Raleigh, American owner of the Raleigh Casino which takes in its junkie-like punters from the dirt ridden streets of Tokyo for their much needed gambling fix.

 

“Good.” He spat, arrogant confidence spilling out of his voice and dribbling down his chin…chins. Reece recognised it and snarled to himself. “Then you won’t mind me telling you that I’m not gonna invest my money in your “cleaning” business either. You’re a small timer Black. So is your…Supeeda-Koomow corporation…whatever.” Donald snorted loudly. He wiped his nose and then mouth with a poke dotted handkerchief before continuing. “You know, gambling’s all about luck. It’s about following your instinct and making a split-second decision. It’s that drastic decision that makes money. You don’t seem to have any major plans in mind for your business and frankly I don’t think you’re capable of making any…drastic decisions.”

 

Raleigh chuckled to himself, watching Reece for signs of a response, hoping for a look of desperation, of soul-shattering rejection. Mr.Black’s chair slowly span back around to face the Casino owner. Raleigh stared, hoping, needing that look…but Mr. Black was smirking. Smirking through the mask of black hair which covered his face.

 

“On the contrary, Mr. Raleigh…” He crowed as sat up from his leather chair. Reece walked slowly towards the entrepreneur, a cold, solemn look on his features in place of the smirk. He stopped behind Raleigh, who looked back for a second, a nervous smile pasted on his face. He was visibly twitching with fear.

 

“I am capable of making drastic decisions.”

 

Reece’s next action took only a second to perform but it was enough to secure the deal with ten of the eleven men. The sickening guttural gurgle Mr. Raleigh emitted as Reece slit his throat reverberated through the room. Deep red blood gushed from the accurate and fatal incision as the onlookers watched with wide eyes and pale faces. The lifeless frame fell forwards and slammed down hard against the marble surface. The puddle of scarlet fluid spread across the table and dripped down onto the carpeted floor. There was silence.

 

“Mr. Raleigh rode his luck a little too much, I think.” Reece growled, looking down at the corpse. A faint stench of urine was detectable from the direction of one, Mr. Nakata. The old man gasped for air as he held his chest which hurt from the shock. Nekura raised his head to look at his associates.

 

“Mr. Nakata. I’m afraid I cannot ensure the safety of your family.” Sobbed Nekura with fake concern in his voice. “You have a week to get in touch gentlemen. Now, run little lambs.” His order was simple. The ten men jumped from their seats, knocking each other over on their scramble to get out of the door.

 

“So says the Clan.”

 

 

*****

 

Nekura stood up abruptly from the wooden bench, purpose in his actions. He snatched at his long leather trenchcoat and pulled it off the hook before sliding into it. He had someone to see; an old friend who, like him, had recently returned. Nekura grabbed his sports bag in his right fist and exited the room. He was eager to see his friend. His protégé.

[Guest Insanityman]

As always good work Nekura.

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

Uh, well, sheeeit.

 

That was really cool. Nice to see something actually getting to Spider a bit. I'd say that just the fact that he's questioning his ability and feeling lousy about blowing the two matches says that he's still got a lot more emotional capability then he might think.

 

Though, I will say one thing: King and I were talking about this a little bit yesterday after reading Silent's latest, and we decided that it's...uh...kinda weird for people to be dying in wrestling promos. I dunno. Just creeps me out a bit.

 

Still, awesome, awesome work. I have some notion of where this is going, but it's got me wondering all the while. Just...couldn't you just bop Raleigh on the head and give him a hug afterwards? Can't we all just get along?

[Guest TheBostonStrangler]

Oooooh, Edwin, THAT sounds even more evil! I can just see it now...

 

 

Raleigh: Well, we just don't think you're ready for the bi...

 

*Nekura hits Raleigh with an ashtray*

 

Raleigh: Ow! That really hurt!

 

Nekura: I'm sorry. Let's all go get some ice cream!

[Guest Beingz0wningj00]

I have to agree about the death part... but I guess it keeps you evil.

 

 

Awesome stuff from my one of my fav's, sir Spider. Good to see your writing once again my friend.

[Guest Spider_Nekura]

Re-reading that I think I probably got a little carried away with the death scene, although really I don't see this promo having much to do with wrestling anyway, epart from the opening couple of paragraphs. Originally I planned for Spider to break Raleigh's neck but then I read Silent's latest promo so changed it last minute.

 

Anyway, thanks for the nice comments A Spider promo is a bit of a rare occurance nowadays so I really appreciate the constructive criticism.

[Guest AnnieEclectic]

I quite enjoyed, that. I like the somewhat hanging ending, especially as some of us really don't know what the hell's going on here, while the rest can simply nod and say 'Ah, here we go folks...'

 

Splendid promo, and deliciously dark and evil, although I had to read twice to catch the fact that Spider cut his throat. I somehow missed how Mr. Raleigh died the first read through.

 

-Annie