PROMO: Foreshadowing Pt II

[Toxxic 0]

*knock-knock*

 

“Come in.”

 

“Yo,” Michael Stephens says stepping into the office, “what’s up?”

 

“Mike,” Naomi Walters, more commonly known as Jet, grins back at her ex-boyfriend, “nice to see you. So, given that you have a World Title match in a week, what can I do for you? Need a sparring partner?” she adds mischievously. Stephens smiles in response, but his heart doesn’t seem to be in it.

 

“Not exactly,” he tells her, “besides, you probably don’t kick hard enough. No,” he continues, sitting down in a vacant chair, “I wondered if I might be able to get some information out of you. See, a few days ago-”

 

“You want to know about the Crimson Dragon, right?” Naomi says, cutting him off. Mike stares at her.

 

“How-”

 

“Mike, you really don’t pay attention do you,” she sighs, mock-frustrated, “you know I’m one of the SWF’s talent scouts now, which is why you came here, right?” Stephens nods. “Well, Philly is my patch and my hometown,” she reminds him, “so I keep an eye on things. And I know that Karl Winter trained at the same time as you in the same place as you, because I have all that sort of info on people. So when I heard he’d been injured in Philly in what was apparently some sort of revenge hit I found out a few things, especially since we were looking at hiring the Crimson Dragon at some point.”

 

“…OK,” Stephens says, “that’s… foresighted of you.”

 

“Hey, I’m not just a sex-crazed bisexual nymphette with stunning hair and a personality overdose,” Naomi grins, flicking her red-and-black dreadlocks back, “I also have fabulous dress sense. And I’m pretty smart too,” she adds, reaching behind her and grabbing a folder. “OK, first things first; you’ve spoken to your mate Karl? At least, I’m assuming that’s why you went to Philly.”

 

“Yeah,” Mike says, “he had no idea why it had happened. I mean, he said he was getting the better of the guy, but unless he has a really bad temper-”

 

“Let me cut you off right there,” Naomi says, shaking her head sadly, “because you’re already wrong. I hate to break it to you Mike, but after wrestling in the Philly indies for a couple of years, and my work now, I can virtually guarantee that Karl was not getting the better of the Crimson Dragon. Y’see,” she continues, “Karl Winter is well-known to local promoters as someone to book if you want to make guys look good. His execution of moves is great, his submissions look and are darned painful, and he has about as good an idea of how to plan and execute a strategy in the ring as he does of the sex life of the Three-Striped Barnacle, and don’t give me any crap about him being a natural history student because as far as I know they don’t exist except in my head.”

 

“So he’s a glorified jobber?” Mike asks, looking a little pained.

 

“Yup,” Naomi confirms, “he puts up more of a fight than most, or looks like he does, but nine times out of ten or better if his opponent is half-capable then Karl will lose. The other wrestlers in Philly like to be booked against him because he’s a nice guy, he never holds a grudge, and he looks a hell of a lot harder to beat than he actually is. By all accounts you can go out there and have what looks to most of the fans like an exciting, back-and-forth match and never be in much danger of losing. His body knows how to wrestle but his brain just gets in the way, and he’ll always do something stupid.”

 

“Right,” Mike says slowly, “so the Dragon guy being embarrassed is probably out. Karl said they’d never wrestled before, and if he’s a nice a guy as you say and I remember…” he holds up his hands, confused. “Why’d this happen? What makes the Crimson Dragon or whatever the bloody hell he calls himself break someone’s leg, and Karl Mr-Nice-Guy Winter’s at that?”

 

“Well, first of all, the Crimson Dragon didn’t do it.”

 

Michael Stephens stares at his ex-girlfriend. There’s no trace of humour or dishonesty in her expression.

 

“You what?”

 

“Looks very doubtful, anyway,” Naomi concedes. “See, as soon as Karl was sorted the promoter went backstage to tear the Crimson Dragon a new hole and tell him he wasn’t working there anymore. When he got to the guy’s locker room he finds him on the floor, tied up and gagged, and with his costume missing. Unless he’d run back there as fast as he could, got undressed real quick and had an accomplice tie him up, hit him over the head - they checked for a bump, you know - and then run away real fast himself with the costume… well, let’s just say it seems unlikely.”

 

“So someone attacked the Crimson Dragon before the match,” Stephens says dubiously, “stole his costume and then wrestled Karl, injured him and disappeared?”

 

“That’s what looks like happened,” Naomi says, spreading her hands. “What can I say Mike? It looks like someone with a grudge was after Karl and rather than try and get on another show to do it in the ring he used the costume of the man Karl was meant to be wrestling that night, presumably because Karl would know him otherwise.”

 

“Or he didn’t want to get caught for it,” Stephens points out.

 

“Yeah,” Naomi admits, “but all the same… I can’t think of any of the Philly regulars who would have any reason to hold a violent grudge against Karl Winter, Mike. And I’m pretty sure the Crimson Dragon didn’t do it.” She looks at him, studying. “You can’t think of anyone who might want to hurt him, can you?”

 

“I’ve barely spoken to him in four years,” Mike says, shaking his head. “I’ve no idea. Still, I guess this means I don’t have to take a trip down to Philly to beat someone up,” he says, “but let me know if you hear anything, yeah?”

 

“Will do,” Naomi says, then looks at her watch. “Damn, Peters wants this report in soon… look Mike, I’ll let you know what I can but there’s a limit to what I can do, OK?”

 

“No problem,” Stephens smiles, getting back up, “I’ll stop interrupting you. I’m just lucky that there’s someone I know and like working in the office these days.” He flips her a casual salute as he walks out of the door, “seeya later, and don’t let Peters work you too hard!”

 

The door closes behind him. Naomi stares at it for a couple of seconds, then lets out a hiss of frustration before turning back to her desk and slamming the folder down it a little harder than strictly necessary.

 

“Mike, you were probably one of the most intelligent guys I’ve been with,” she says to the empty air, “and you were damn sensitive and perceptive at times, which admittedly may have had something to do with the fact that you’ve now turned out to be pretty much gay,” she continues, “but goddamnit, you can be so damn dense that I want to bang your head into things.” She fixes her gaze onto a small, two-inch tall teddy bear that sits next to her PC.

 

“For example, if I was in your situation I’d be asking me how big the Crimson Dragon is, to see how big someone stealing his suit would be. Maybe that would give you a clue if the culprit is someone you know. And hey,” she continues, jabbing the bear with a pen, “perhaps if someone says that they’ll let you know what they can but there’s a limit to what they can do, you’ll work out that they’re trying to tell you that they know more than they’re letting on, but they can’t tell you because otherwise their boss will fire them. And possibly,” she says, prodding the bear so hard that it’s knocked backwards, “you’ll remember that about a month ago I told you that Peters had something nasty in store for you, and that I had an idea what it was but couldn’t tell you or I’d get in trouble. And you might put all these things together and… ah, to hell with it,” she says, dropping the pen and replacing her bear, “no-one been able to kill him yet. He’ll find out soon enough, and he might even be OK.”

 

She picks up her pen and finishes making notes, then switches to the keyboard and starts to write her report up. After a minute she glances down at the bear again.

 

“What? Don’t look at me like that you fuzzy prick, it’s not my problem if he’s stupid,” she tells the bear severely, “he’s not my boyfriend anymore and there’s no reason I should risk my job for him.”

 

The bear continues to gaze. To be fair, she’d be surprised if it did anything else.

 

“OK, OK,” she sighs after a few more seconds, “one more go. But seriously,” she says, picking up the pen and waving it menacingly at the bear, “if this gets me fired then I’m dropping you in the shredder.”

 

The bear fails to show any signs of fear, and with a sigh Naomi turns back to her keyboard. Subversive plans or not, she knows what will happen if Peters doesn’t get his report on time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To be concluded…