Post by Furious Julius Fairweather on Nov 21, 2021 18:18:36 GMT -5
THE FIELD MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY: CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 21ST: OFF CAMERA
“Egyptian hieroglyphs were the formal writing system used in Ancient Egypt, used for writing the Egyptian language. Hieroglyphs combined logographic, syllabic and alphabetic elements, with a total of some 1,000 distinct characters.”
Marissa Covington smiled as she did her best to explain the exhibit in words that both the children and parents in her tour group would understand. From a few of the bored faces she saw in response, it seemed like she wasn’t succeeding. Of course she was used to that by now, and it didn’t stop her from continuing.
“The Egyptian hieroglyphic script is ancestral to the majority of scripts in modern use, most prominently the Latin and Cyrillic scripts and the Arabic script and possibly Brahmic family of scripts. In many ways, you might even say that these hieroglyphs were a precursor to the modern Spider-Man comics that some of you might be familiar with.”
This time she directed her smile at a little boy in the front of the group, and she recognized the interest in his face as soon as she mentioned comic books.
“Egyptian Stan Lee? Sounds like an interesting motherfucker.”
Despite having only met the man once, she immediately recognized his voice as a shiver of uncertainty ran down her spine. Turning her gaze away from the little boy, she saw Julius Fairweather standing to the side of her tour group, leaning up against an ancient sarcophagus despite the nearby sign clearly instructing visitors to stay five feet away from the exhibits.
“I...um...please excuse me for a moment. Feel free to look around and we’ll continue the tour in just a few minutes.”
As the members of her tour group began to disperse to examine the various pieces in the exhibit, Marissa made her way past them as she approached her unexpected guest. Julius met her approach with a sly smile, as he absent-mindedly rolled a cigarette between his fingers.
“What are you doing here? How did you even find me?”
Julius continued to smile as he slid the unlit cigarette between his lips.
“You said you worked at the Natural History Museum in Chicago, so I took a gamble and rolled the dice. Now here we are.”
No longer being watched by the museum’s visiting families, her smile faded as she continued to address Julius in a hushed tone.
“If you’ve come here to get the tablet back, you’re going to be disappointed. It’s somewhere very safe from professional wrestlers who moonlight as grave robbers.”
There was something in his soft chuckle following her statement that put her mind at ease.
“That’s good to know, but it’s not why I’m here. You outplayed the Bad Motherfucker and that’s way more interesting than some dusty, old, stone tablet. I came here because we didn’t get to finish our conversation on the train. You know, the train that you mysteriously disappeared from?”
Marissa glanced at a few of the nearby museum guests before turning her glare back towards Julius.
“An artifact of that significance shouldn’t be in the hands of someone who beats up other people for a living. I’m sorry if I had to deceive you, but I couldn’t take the chance of it falling into the wrong hands.”
“Again, that’s good to know, but I already told you that I didn’t come here for the commandment. I came here for you.”
Julius pulled a zippo lighter from the pocket of his suit jacket and threatened to light the cigarette in his mouth.
“Don’t you dare light that in here, and for that matter, I’d appreciate it if you watched your language around the children.”
“Anything you say, pretty momma. For a little bit of your time, your wish is my command.”
He returned the lighter to his pocket, a smile still on his face.
“So you came all the way to Chicago to track me down, but you claim you’re not interested in the lost commandment. So what exactly do you want, Mr. Fairweather?”
“First of all, you can call me Julius. Second, I’m brutally handsome and you’re terminally pretty. So in the immortal words of Joe Walsh, what would you say about spending some time with me in the fast lane?”
The song lyrics were vaguely familiar to her, but she still wasn’t clear about what he was requesting.
“Are you...asking me out on a date?”
He nodded his head as his smile grew significantly.
“Now you’re picking up what I’m laying down.”
She shook her head, still confused by his presence, not to mention the way he talked.
“I...I couldn’t. My employers wouldn’t like that…”
“Well I don’t give a single damn about what some stuck-up old fuck that runs a museum has to say. I’m only interested in that agreeable answer on the tip of your tongue.”
She knew better. She really did. He wasn’t even close to being her type, and yet, there was something about his confidence, something about that smile…
“Fine. We can have coffee sometime, but right now I’m in the middle of a tour and with the holidays coming up my schedule isn’t very flexible…”
“Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. I’m willing to wait. Besides, I’ve got some business of my own coming up later this week. I’ll be back in town the week after Thanksgiving. I assume I’ll be able to find you here unless you plan on pulling another vanishing act on me.”
She nodded her head and forced a smile of her own.
“No, that...that will be fine. I’ll be here. Just promise you won’t interrupt another one of my tours by disrespecting the good name of Stan Lee.”
Julius cocked his head to the side as if he was surprised to hear that kind of response, and Marissa gave him a knowing smile in turn.
“Then it’s a date. I’ll see you in two weeks, Miss Covington.”
He reached out to take her hand in his before leaning down to gently place a kiss on it.
“Marissa. You can call me Marissa.”
He finished his gentlemanly gesture and then beamed with a smile as he looked into her eyes. Score one for the Bad Motherfucker. Now all he had to do was survive The Purge and Black Friday…
THE FIELD MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY: CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 21ST: ON CAMERA
“You’d better have that camera rolling, Fatone. When “Furious” Julius Fairweather lays down the smack, he doesn’t like having to repeat himself.”
The camera bounces up and down as Julius’ personal manservant, Joey Fatone, assures him that they’re filming. With a lit cigarette between his fingers, Julius stands on the tall steps outside of the Natural History Museum in Chicago, his free hand tucked into the pocket of his long, black coat.
“What’s up, motherfuckers? Today I’m coming to you from The Windy City where I’ve been taking care of some personal matters. I guess you could say I'm on something of a field trip. It made for a nice little stop on my way from Detroit to Minnesota, but it won’t be long until I’m back on the road. In just a few days, I’m gonna roll up to some shithole town by the name of Whalen, and something tells me that the golden Cadillac of Julius Fairweather will be the nicest thing folks in that neighborhood have seen in a long time. And while seeing my luxurious automobile may be nice for the yokels, I expect it to mean something entirely different to my fellow members of Project: Honor. In fact, I wouldn’t blame them if a shiver of fear ran down their spines, ‘cause Julius ain’t rolling into town for pleasure. He’s rolling in to take care of business. He’s rolling in to Purge the biggest collection of sorry motherfuckers this world has ever seen.”
Julius shakes his head as he thinks about all of the names signed up for The Purge and then takes a long drag from his cigarette.
“Just look at that motherfucking line-up. We’ve got everything from minis to motherfuckers that haven’t been heard from in months. It seems like everyone with a pair of wrestling boots is throwing their name into the mix as if it’s the motherfucking lottery. Only this ain’t some raffle for a PS5, it’s The Motherfucking Purge, and the only prize for participation is pain and suffering. I fully expect to see the kind of shit that’s only been previously fantasized about by closet sociopaths. We’re talking about fire, about sharp metal objects, about broken glass, and who knows what else. I wouldn’t be surprised if Arik Holt had a goddamn dirty bomb set up in the middle of town to blow us all to hell the second that Purge Horn goes off.”
Continuing to take an occasional drag, Julius moves down a couple of steps, drawing closer to Joey Fatone and the camera he’s holding.
“So with that kind of danger, with that kind of risk, why is every motherfucker who’s ever thrown a punch signing up to get involved? I don’t know about the rest of you, but I happen to subscribe to the belief that the greater the risk, the greater the reward. It’s not just a chance to become the Ascension or Gatekeeper Champion, and it’s not the possibility of getting a title shot at Wired Consequences. Hell, it ain’t even that Universal Briefcase when you get right down to it. It’s the chance to say you survived the most fucked up wrestling concept since Abraham Lincoln slapped on a sixty minute headlock. We’re talking about the match that took a lanky motherfucker like Mark Hunter and turned him into Proving Ground’s golden boy. It’s nothing less than a chance at immortality, and if there’s one thing you should all know about Julius Fairweather, it’s that he would love to live forever in the hearts and minds of motherfuckers worldwide.”
Julius smiles and nods as a few wisps of smoke waft from his nostrils.
“Now I’m gonna have to do a lot more than beat up a bunch of midgets and jobbers to get the job done, cause there’s a whole flock of primetime players in this motherfucker too. I’m talking about guys like Havoc, Jason Long, and Syndicate, the established headliners of Fallout who I’m more than familiar with. We’re also talking about newer faces like Michael Bishop and Billy Bennett, who are hungrier than a fat man on a ten day fasting period. We’ve even got motherfuckers from Proving Ground coming to town, like that badass bitch Emmanuelle and that skeevy little Ratman. So surviving the night and going down in history as the motherfucker who went the distance ain’t gonna be easy by any stretch of the motherfucking imagination. Then again, if I expected life to be easy, I wouldn’t have spent so many years learning how to knock motherfuckers out.”
He leaves his cigarette between his lips, just long enough to make a fist with his right hand and hold it up for the camera to see.
“As if running around some backwoods shithole trying to avoid getting murdered wasn’t bad enough, I decided to throw my name into Proving Ground’s festivities as well. When my boy, Indy Darling, told me that he was going to book an insane clusterfuck of his own inside The Mall of America, I figured the least I could was add a little star power to the festivities by throwing my hat in the motherfucking ring. So now, not only do I get to play a major part in Fallout’s late Halloween drama, but I get to participate in the Christmas kickoff that Indy’s put together for Black Friday. Only it’s not gonna be the season to be jolly, because from what I understand the blue brand is offering up several prizes of its own, and the only way to claim them is through even more bloodshed and violence.”
Julius allows himself a soft chuckle as he once again plucks the lit cigarette away from his mouth.
“Not only that, but a lot of familiar faces from The Purge are gonna be fighting inside of that mall, because apparently we’re all gluttons for punishment. Havoc, Jason, and Syndicate are all advertised, just in case they manage to survive the Purge the night before. Add to that the best that Proving Ground has to offer, from Ozymandias to MYOJIN, and it looks like a recipe for disaster. Rest assured that I’ll be adding my own batch of secret herbs and spices, because the only thing better than coming out of The Purge with my hand raised would be to also walk out as the winner of Black Friday the very next day.”
Julius takes a final drag from his cigarette before flicking the lit cherry off the tip with his finger. He then tosses it aside without any care or concern about local littering laws.
“It’s fair to say I’ve seen my share of crazy shit in Project: Honor, from Wargames that weren’t really Wargames to Dead by Daylight Trials. But to have the Purge one night and the goddamn Brawl in the Mall on the next? If I didn’t know better, I’d say that Rock Johnson is handing out bonuses to the General Manager that can most quickly deflate their roster through mutilation and dismemberment. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an entire goddamn herd of Minnesota lawyers staking out the locker rooms by the time this week is through. They don’t need to bother knocking on Julius’ door though, cause I’m gonna light this shit up with a fire so high, Indy and Arik will think I’ve rolled the world’s biggest blunt. Rock Johnson will get a whiff of what Julius is cooking for Thanksgiving, and that motherfucker will be salivating for more before I’ve served up the first slice of pie. For every dollar Arik and Indy earn for their ideas, I'm fixing to earn twice as much with the shit I'm willing to do on Thursday and Friday. That's when Fairweather's Field Trip continues, only its gonna be a lot more hands-on than my little visit to the museum in the background.”
Now with both hands tucked deeply into the pockets of his coat, he takes a few more steps down until the camera can capture little more than the expression on his face.
“I’m not trying to be cocky, cause I know I could just as well end up maimed in one of these matches as I could end up with my hand raised. If by some miracle of fate, I get knocked down or busted open? That’s cool. It’s happened before and I’m damn sure it’ll happen again. There’s just one other thing that you motherfuckers need to remember when it comes to Furious Julius, and that’s the fact that I give as good as I get. Sure, guys like Havoc and Syndi may be carrying around some gold now, but how many times did I knock them on their asses before they grabbed the big brass ring? I’ve never fought motherfuckers like Ozymandias, Arata Asakura, or Tara Fenix, but I know my hard right hand is capable of knocking out Butchers, Shoguns, and Queens just like it’s done to Outlaws and Kings before them. I’m gonna do everything in my power to be the last man standing two nights in a row, so that means a lot of motherfuckers listening to this right now are gonna get hurt, courtesy of yours truly. Will they hurt me back? Only time will tell, but if so, I guess I’ll just have to get back up and hit them twice as hard the second time.”
He’s put away his suave smile for the time being, entirely focused on the seriousness of his upcoming challenges as he stares directly into the camera lens.
“Then there’s the case of my current allies, like the boys in Big Drip Productions. I may not enjoy putting the hurt on them, but they knew what I was about when they accepted me into their little band of bad motherfuckers. Petey’s my tag partner, but even he knows that if it comes down to just the two of us, I’m gonna do what a Motherfucker’s got to do. Now there’s also plenty of those True Society bitches running around this thing as well. At this point, that group is growing so fast that even I can’t keep track of who’s in and who’s out. So the Royales with Cheese are gonna have to fly without any signs of favoritism, discrimination, or hesitation. In the end it’s not gonna come down to one team or even one society; it’s gonna come down to the one motherfucker who’s ready, willing, and able to knock down the rest. Maybe it’s just me, but that sounds an awful lot like “Furious” Julius Fairweather. So until Thanksgiving Dinner is served, you can all be cool, but by the time the shopping is done, you’re all gonna be gone.”
With a nod of his head and wink of his eye, Julius’ promo reaches its conclusion and the scene cuts to black.
A SECRET SUB BASEMENT WITHIN THE FIELD MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY: CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 21ST: OFF CAMERA
She hadn’t expected to see Julius Fairweather again, let alone where she had been assigned to work by her superiors. It was bad enough that a professional wrestler and former boy band singer had located one of the three missing biblical commandments, but it was even worse to think that their search had not reached its end. With a burner phone pressed up to her ear, Marissa Covington quietly relayed this new turn of events to her anonymous employer.
“He asked me out on a date of all things. A date! What am I supposed to do about that?”
She listens to the distorted voice as her employer responds, offering up new orders that seem to take her by surprise.
“You can’t be serious. There has to be a better way to find out what else he knows than to take advantage of his misguided romantic feelings.”
The voice comes through again, making it clear that the decision is final and that it would be in her best interests to obey orders.
“Yes, your grace, I understand. I’ll find out what he knows, if anything. And I swear, upon all we hold dear, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep the commandments a secret.”
There is no formal farewell to end the call as Marissa shuts off the phone and slides it into her purse. She then turns toward the well secured glass case to her left, letting her eyes fall not only on the stone tablet that Julius managed to recover, but also the second one that had been in her custody for the past few months. With a heavy sigh, she wondered if Julius would even survive his upcoming fights in Project: Honor so that he could continue his quest, and secretly, she hoped that he wouldn’t...
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 21ST: OFF CAMERA
“Egyptian hieroglyphs were the formal writing system used in Ancient Egypt, used for writing the Egyptian language. Hieroglyphs combined logographic, syllabic and alphabetic elements, with a total of some 1,000 distinct characters.”
Marissa Covington smiled as she did her best to explain the exhibit in words that both the children and parents in her tour group would understand. From a few of the bored faces she saw in response, it seemed like she wasn’t succeeding. Of course she was used to that by now, and it didn’t stop her from continuing.
“The Egyptian hieroglyphic script is ancestral to the majority of scripts in modern use, most prominently the Latin and Cyrillic scripts and the Arabic script and possibly Brahmic family of scripts. In many ways, you might even say that these hieroglyphs were a precursor to the modern Spider-Man comics that some of you might be familiar with.”
This time she directed her smile at a little boy in the front of the group, and she recognized the interest in his face as soon as she mentioned comic books.
“Egyptian Stan Lee? Sounds like an interesting motherfucker.”
Despite having only met the man once, she immediately recognized his voice as a shiver of uncertainty ran down her spine. Turning her gaze away from the little boy, she saw Julius Fairweather standing to the side of her tour group, leaning up against an ancient sarcophagus despite the nearby sign clearly instructing visitors to stay five feet away from the exhibits.
“I...um...please excuse me for a moment. Feel free to look around and we’ll continue the tour in just a few minutes.”
As the members of her tour group began to disperse to examine the various pieces in the exhibit, Marissa made her way past them as she approached her unexpected guest. Julius met her approach with a sly smile, as he absent-mindedly rolled a cigarette between his fingers.
“What are you doing here? How did you even find me?”
Julius continued to smile as he slid the unlit cigarette between his lips.
“You said you worked at the Natural History Museum in Chicago, so I took a gamble and rolled the dice. Now here we are.”
No longer being watched by the museum’s visiting families, her smile faded as she continued to address Julius in a hushed tone.
“If you’ve come here to get the tablet back, you’re going to be disappointed. It’s somewhere very safe from professional wrestlers who moonlight as grave robbers.”
There was something in his soft chuckle following her statement that put her mind at ease.
“That’s good to know, but it’s not why I’m here. You outplayed the Bad Motherfucker and that’s way more interesting than some dusty, old, stone tablet. I came here because we didn’t get to finish our conversation on the train. You know, the train that you mysteriously disappeared from?”
Marissa glanced at a few of the nearby museum guests before turning her glare back towards Julius.
“An artifact of that significance shouldn’t be in the hands of someone who beats up other people for a living. I’m sorry if I had to deceive you, but I couldn’t take the chance of it falling into the wrong hands.”
“Again, that’s good to know, but I already told you that I didn’t come here for the commandment. I came here for you.”
Julius pulled a zippo lighter from the pocket of his suit jacket and threatened to light the cigarette in his mouth.
“Don’t you dare light that in here, and for that matter, I’d appreciate it if you watched your language around the children.”
“Anything you say, pretty momma. For a little bit of your time, your wish is my command.”
He returned the lighter to his pocket, a smile still on his face.
“So you came all the way to Chicago to track me down, but you claim you’re not interested in the lost commandment. So what exactly do you want, Mr. Fairweather?”
“First of all, you can call me Julius. Second, I’m brutally handsome and you’re terminally pretty. So in the immortal words of Joe Walsh, what would you say about spending some time with me in the fast lane?”
The song lyrics were vaguely familiar to her, but she still wasn’t clear about what he was requesting.
“Are you...asking me out on a date?”
He nodded his head as his smile grew significantly.
“Now you’re picking up what I’m laying down.”
She shook her head, still confused by his presence, not to mention the way he talked.
“I...I couldn’t. My employers wouldn’t like that…”
“Well I don’t give a single damn about what some stuck-up old fuck that runs a museum has to say. I’m only interested in that agreeable answer on the tip of your tongue.”
She knew better. She really did. He wasn’t even close to being her type, and yet, there was something about his confidence, something about that smile…
“Fine. We can have coffee sometime, but right now I’m in the middle of a tour and with the holidays coming up my schedule isn’t very flexible…”
“Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. I’m willing to wait. Besides, I’ve got some business of my own coming up later this week. I’ll be back in town the week after Thanksgiving. I assume I’ll be able to find you here unless you plan on pulling another vanishing act on me.”
She nodded her head and forced a smile of her own.
“No, that...that will be fine. I’ll be here. Just promise you won’t interrupt another one of my tours by disrespecting the good name of Stan Lee.”
Julius cocked his head to the side as if he was surprised to hear that kind of response, and Marissa gave him a knowing smile in turn.
“Then it’s a date. I’ll see you in two weeks, Miss Covington.”
He reached out to take her hand in his before leaning down to gently place a kiss on it.
“Marissa. You can call me Marissa.”
He finished his gentlemanly gesture and then beamed with a smile as he looked into her eyes. Score one for the Bad Motherfucker. Now all he had to do was survive The Purge and Black Friday…
THE FIELD MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY: CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 21ST: ON CAMERA
“You’d better have that camera rolling, Fatone. When “Furious” Julius Fairweather lays down the smack, he doesn’t like having to repeat himself.”
The camera bounces up and down as Julius’ personal manservant, Joey Fatone, assures him that they’re filming. With a lit cigarette between his fingers, Julius stands on the tall steps outside of the Natural History Museum in Chicago, his free hand tucked into the pocket of his long, black coat.
“What’s up, motherfuckers? Today I’m coming to you from The Windy City where I’ve been taking care of some personal matters. I guess you could say I'm on something of a field trip. It made for a nice little stop on my way from Detroit to Minnesota, but it won’t be long until I’m back on the road. In just a few days, I’m gonna roll up to some shithole town by the name of Whalen, and something tells me that the golden Cadillac of Julius Fairweather will be the nicest thing folks in that neighborhood have seen in a long time. And while seeing my luxurious automobile may be nice for the yokels, I expect it to mean something entirely different to my fellow members of Project: Honor. In fact, I wouldn’t blame them if a shiver of fear ran down their spines, ‘cause Julius ain’t rolling into town for pleasure. He’s rolling in to take care of business. He’s rolling in to Purge the biggest collection of sorry motherfuckers this world has ever seen.”
Julius shakes his head as he thinks about all of the names signed up for The Purge and then takes a long drag from his cigarette.
“Just look at that motherfucking line-up. We’ve got everything from minis to motherfuckers that haven’t been heard from in months. It seems like everyone with a pair of wrestling boots is throwing their name into the mix as if it’s the motherfucking lottery. Only this ain’t some raffle for a PS5, it’s The Motherfucking Purge, and the only prize for participation is pain and suffering. I fully expect to see the kind of shit that’s only been previously fantasized about by closet sociopaths. We’re talking about fire, about sharp metal objects, about broken glass, and who knows what else. I wouldn’t be surprised if Arik Holt had a goddamn dirty bomb set up in the middle of town to blow us all to hell the second that Purge Horn goes off.”
Continuing to take an occasional drag, Julius moves down a couple of steps, drawing closer to Joey Fatone and the camera he’s holding.
“So with that kind of danger, with that kind of risk, why is every motherfucker who’s ever thrown a punch signing up to get involved? I don’t know about the rest of you, but I happen to subscribe to the belief that the greater the risk, the greater the reward. It’s not just a chance to become the Ascension or Gatekeeper Champion, and it’s not the possibility of getting a title shot at Wired Consequences. Hell, it ain’t even that Universal Briefcase when you get right down to it. It’s the chance to say you survived the most fucked up wrestling concept since Abraham Lincoln slapped on a sixty minute headlock. We’re talking about the match that took a lanky motherfucker like Mark Hunter and turned him into Proving Ground’s golden boy. It’s nothing less than a chance at immortality, and if there’s one thing you should all know about Julius Fairweather, it’s that he would love to live forever in the hearts and minds of motherfuckers worldwide.”
Julius smiles and nods as a few wisps of smoke waft from his nostrils.
“Now I’m gonna have to do a lot more than beat up a bunch of midgets and jobbers to get the job done, cause there’s a whole flock of primetime players in this motherfucker too. I’m talking about guys like Havoc, Jason Long, and Syndicate, the established headliners of Fallout who I’m more than familiar with. We’re also talking about newer faces like Michael Bishop and Billy Bennett, who are hungrier than a fat man on a ten day fasting period. We’ve even got motherfuckers from Proving Ground coming to town, like that badass bitch Emmanuelle and that skeevy little Ratman. So surviving the night and going down in history as the motherfucker who went the distance ain’t gonna be easy by any stretch of the motherfucking imagination. Then again, if I expected life to be easy, I wouldn’t have spent so many years learning how to knock motherfuckers out.”
He leaves his cigarette between his lips, just long enough to make a fist with his right hand and hold it up for the camera to see.
“As if running around some backwoods shithole trying to avoid getting murdered wasn’t bad enough, I decided to throw my name into Proving Ground’s festivities as well. When my boy, Indy Darling, told me that he was going to book an insane clusterfuck of his own inside The Mall of America, I figured the least I could was add a little star power to the festivities by throwing my hat in the motherfucking ring. So now, not only do I get to play a major part in Fallout’s late Halloween drama, but I get to participate in the Christmas kickoff that Indy’s put together for Black Friday. Only it’s not gonna be the season to be jolly, because from what I understand the blue brand is offering up several prizes of its own, and the only way to claim them is through even more bloodshed and violence.”
Julius allows himself a soft chuckle as he once again plucks the lit cigarette away from his mouth.
“Not only that, but a lot of familiar faces from The Purge are gonna be fighting inside of that mall, because apparently we’re all gluttons for punishment. Havoc, Jason, and Syndicate are all advertised, just in case they manage to survive the Purge the night before. Add to that the best that Proving Ground has to offer, from Ozymandias to MYOJIN, and it looks like a recipe for disaster. Rest assured that I’ll be adding my own batch of secret herbs and spices, because the only thing better than coming out of The Purge with my hand raised would be to also walk out as the winner of Black Friday the very next day.”
Julius takes a final drag from his cigarette before flicking the lit cherry off the tip with his finger. He then tosses it aside without any care or concern about local littering laws.
“It’s fair to say I’ve seen my share of crazy shit in Project: Honor, from Wargames that weren’t really Wargames to Dead by Daylight Trials. But to have the Purge one night and the goddamn Brawl in the Mall on the next? If I didn’t know better, I’d say that Rock Johnson is handing out bonuses to the General Manager that can most quickly deflate their roster through mutilation and dismemberment. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an entire goddamn herd of Minnesota lawyers staking out the locker rooms by the time this week is through. They don’t need to bother knocking on Julius’ door though, cause I’m gonna light this shit up with a fire so high, Indy and Arik will think I’ve rolled the world’s biggest blunt. Rock Johnson will get a whiff of what Julius is cooking for Thanksgiving, and that motherfucker will be salivating for more before I’ve served up the first slice of pie. For every dollar Arik and Indy earn for their ideas, I'm fixing to earn twice as much with the shit I'm willing to do on Thursday and Friday. That's when Fairweather's Field Trip continues, only its gonna be a lot more hands-on than my little visit to the museum in the background.”
Now with both hands tucked deeply into the pockets of his coat, he takes a few more steps down until the camera can capture little more than the expression on his face.
“I’m not trying to be cocky, cause I know I could just as well end up maimed in one of these matches as I could end up with my hand raised. If by some miracle of fate, I get knocked down or busted open? That’s cool. It’s happened before and I’m damn sure it’ll happen again. There’s just one other thing that you motherfuckers need to remember when it comes to Furious Julius, and that’s the fact that I give as good as I get. Sure, guys like Havoc and Syndi may be carrying around some gold now, but how many times did I knock them on their asses before they grabbed the big brass ring? I’ve never fought motherfuckers like Ozymandias, Arata Asakura, or Tara Fenix, but I know my hard right hand is capable of knocking out Butchers, Shoguns, and Queens just like it’s done to Outlaws and Kings before them. I’m gonna do everything in my power to be the last man standing two nights in a row, so that means a lot of motherfuckers listening to this right now are gonna get hurt, courtesy of yours truly. Will they hurt me back? Only time will tell, but if so, I guess I’ll just have to get back up and hit them twice as hard the second time.”
He’s put away his suave smile for the time being, entirely focused on the seriousness of his upcoming challenges as he stares directly into the camera lens.
“Then there’s the case of my current allies, like the boys in Big Drip Productions. I may not enjoy putting the hurt on them, but they knew what I was about when they accepted me into their little band of bad motherfuckers. Petey’s my tag partner, but even he knows that if it comes down to just the two of us, I’m gonna do what a Motherfucker’s got to do. Now there’s also plenty of those True Society bitches running around this thing as well. At this point, that group is growing so fast that even I can’t keep track of who’s in and who’s out. So the Royales with Cheese are gonna have to fly without any signs of favoritism, discrimination, or hesitation. In the end it’s not gonna come down to one team or even one society; it’s gonna come down to the one motherfucker who’s ready, willing, and able to knock down the rest. Maybe it’s just me, but that sounds an awful lot like “Furious” Julius Fairweather. So until Thanksgiving Dinner is served, you can all be cool, but by the time the shopping is done, you’re all gonna be gone.”
With a nod of his head and wink of his eye, Julius’ promo reaches its conclusion and the scene cuts to black.
A SECRET SUB BASEMENT WITHIN THE FIELD MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY: CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 21ST: OFF CAMERA
She hadn’t expected to see Julius Fairweather again, let alone where she had been assigned to work by her superiors. It was bad enough that a professional wrestler and former boy band singer had located one of the three missing biblical commandments, but it was even worse to think that their search had not reached its end. With a burner phone pressed up to her ear, Marissa Covington quietly relayed this new turn of events to her anonymous employer.
“He asked me out on a date of all things. A date! What am I supposed to do about that?”
She listens to the distorted voice as her employer responds, offering up new orders that seem to take her by surprise.
“You can’t be serious. There has to be a better way to find out what else he knows than to take advantage of his misguided romantic feelings.”
The voice comes through again, making it clear that the decision is final and that it would be in her best interests to obey orders.
“Yes, your grace, I understand. I’ll find out what he knows, if anything. And I swear, upon all we hold dear, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep the commandments a secret.”
There is no formal farewell to end the call as Marissa shuts off the phone and slides it into her purse. She then turns toward the well secured glass case to her left, letting her eyes fall not only on the stone tablet that Julius managed to recover, but also the second one that had been in her custody for the past few months. With a heavy sigh, she wondered if Julius would even survive his upcoming fights in Project: Honor so that he could continue his quest, and secretly, she hoped that he wouldn’t...
