Post by JNS on Feb 10, 2021 21:38:54 GMT -5
Brothers of Mayhem Firestation Clubhouse
Redwood City, California
February 1st, 2021
It’s shortly after midnight on the West Coast, and John Strader finds himself sitting on the roof of the new clubhouse; his sisters, kids, and their husbands are fast asleep, or at least he thinks they all are. Tamika is wide awake and has managed to track down her brother up through the fire escape. She sees him sitting on the ledge, looking up at the stars in the night sky. He is dressed for sleep in black slip-on sandals accompanied by dark grey sweatpants and a plain black hoodie. Tamika’s dressed in a ridiculous Rudolph one-piece outfit with a butt flap that her husband would surely enjoy if she were in bed with him right now but instead, she has come to bug her ‘Lil bruh.’, She plops down beside him on his right. He pulls her in tight for a sibling hug.
“Gorgeous night out, is this your little me time spot?” she asked him softly.
“Yeah, it is. Needed some time to think,” he replied quietly.
“You are thinking about mom,” she didn’t bother phrasing it as a question because she knew he was because she was too.
John doesn’t say anything and just nods softly. Lisa Hayes was the mother of Scott Nash Strader’s youngest children. Unfortunately, she passed away from Ovarian Cancer shortly after the twins had come home to their big sister and father. By the time the doctors had discovered the disease, it was in stage four and had spread to her bone marrow. She went quick, but it was excruciating for John and Tamika. Tamika and Meghan may be incredibly close, but nothing was more substantial than the bond of twins, and the death of their mother hit them hard as well as their dad, as Lisa Hayes was the love of his life.
“Yeah, how did you know?” yet he didn’t need to ask because he already knew the answer.
“Haven’t you learned, Lil bruh-bruh? I know everything!” Tamika exclaims softly, giving him a gentle jab in the ribs, which causes him to grimace. “Oh right, Inferno match a few days ago.”
Tamika then bares her teeth with her ‘oh right’ facial expression that always made John laugh, and this was no different as he just caught it from the side when he looked down from the sky to her.
“Well, little brother, mom may be gone, but she is always with us,” she says, trying to soothe her twin brother. “Now, I may not be as pretty or smart, but I am known to have my moments!”
“More than a few,” he replies softly.
“Ok, so out with it already; what’s on your mind?” she asks, giving him a gentle nudge.
“I know your husband is close with the old man, but I need to get my boys up north out of some shit I find fucking dirty,” he says while not answering her question directly.
“You want my blessing to ask my crime lord husband of Montreal and the island that was the city of Laval but is now Kalistan?” She raises her right brow and shakes her head, “Listen, that’s between you two.”
“Sometimes in my world, the boys will say ‘She is just an old lady,’ but without them, we are nothing,” he says, looking over at her, “plus you are my sister.”
She leans her head against his.
“Big sister and I appreciate the respect, John. I love you,” she says with a sisterly warmth.
“You know that is getting real old right?” he asks, giving her a push with his head, “I love you too, Tamika.”
“So, when do we get to meet this Texan girl Victoria told us about? Play with fire, prepare to get burned,” she says, elbowing him as they break the embrace, John laughing as he stands up.
“Well, it won’t in the next couple of days, that is for sure. Thanks for the talk; goodnight, Tiki Wiki,” he says with a grin. He jumps out of the way of her foot coming to sweep him. He laughs as he heads inside, and Tamika is left alone.
She looked up at the stars, something you couldn’t do in the haze of Los Angeles and her cities, knowing that their mother was with them.
Brothers of Mayhem Firestation Clubhouse
Redwood City, California
February 1st, 2021
Early morning
Having the family get together for Cara to get to know her new family had been a success; they continued with breakfast at the Wafflehouse just off the Interstate minus two members of the family. John and Simon Kalis didn’t go, as business and family issues were to be discussed. They sat in the biker’s office, with John in his leather computer chair and one of the most famous men of years passed in the sport and enjoying quite an empire built off illegal activities sits across from him. John wasn’t happy with what Axl had to do up in Winnipeg, and he had to get them the fuck out of it. He didn’t want to pull a ‘supreme ruler’ to make it, but he will do it. Dirty business that law enforcement looks at a bit more discriminately. So this was him doing that for his club. He looked at the man in front of him. Carrying scars on his hands, and one that came under his glass right eye. John wasn’t new to sitting with powerful men and negotiating large money deals, but Simon was different. Simon had a power only a few men and women dream of and without a moment’s notice, he can hurt you in any way he wants to.
“Thank you for sitting with me, Simon. You have always shown my patch respect, and I believe I have served you well in the past before,” he says, finally to break the silence they had been sitting in since coming into the office.
“John, we are family, you got to know that I am going to help if I can,” the words so cooly came off the tongue from one of the biggest kingpins of Montreal Island. “My Pumpkin says you need something; she didn’t say what, but I am going to guess you want that Crystal trade gone, hmm?”
John leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and looked down for a moment before looking up into the OG’s eye, for Simon that wasn’t plural. He nodded as he leaned back forward, leaning his forearms onto the edge of his desk.
“Yeah, that’s exactly it. It’s dirty fucking business, and I want us out of it. I understand why they did it, but I need it to be done,” he leans back in his chair, keeping eye contact; it was particular respect only a few can understand.
“Okay, well, what can I do for you, John?” he asks, adjusting the collar of his green dress shirt underneath the Armani pinstripe he always wore.
“In Manitoba and right here in Redwood City, the pharmacies are hurting for a product. Do you have a line on pharmaceutical narcotics that we can sell to them? I have talked to a few pharmacists and they tell me it's a large market,” John said, as this was a sensitive subject as Simon had a battle of opiates and came out on top of it all, but he understood the need for it.
“I am going to go home to Kalistan,” which was the island of Laval, but he bought every property that could be owned by an entrepreneur like himself, “when I get there, I am going to talk to a few people. One way or another, we’ll get you out of the Crystal game because I agree it’s dirty, and you don’t want that tagged to that patch on your back.”
He was absolutely right. John looked down at the President flash and back up at his brother in law. They stand with John leaning over the desk somewhat, and they shake hands. They both sit back down as a possibly uncomfortable situation needs to be addressed: the actions of Simon’s smuggling partner and good friend, Scott Nash Strader.
“Well, Simon, as you saw last night, the old man has had a twenty-year secret that he has kept from all of us, especially Meghan. I mean, what the fuck is next? He killed Natalia?” he asks, adding that to be facetious as that was the name of the girl that broke his heart almost ten years ago. Simon brings his hands together in his lap, looking at them before lifting his gaze back up to John.
“The actions of your father have been… less than honourable. My wife’s heart is broken for her sister, for Meghan. Jesus, that one has been put through it,” his tone turns dark as he slides into the darkness that resides deep within the man’s soul. “He’s my friend, yes, but he is one or two secrets away from something happening to him. Me, you, Meghan for sure, and I hate to say it; Tamika too,” he adds almost a groan to mention his wife’s name. Tamika was a sweet woman who was only violent when she was wrestling tag matches and otherwise wouldn’t hurt a fly.
“Cara seems like a good kid. She reminds me so much of Meghan while Vic is just like having Tamika around except she likes women,” the outlaw says with a chuckle. “But you and I need to start digging to see what else there is hiding in his closet. We can’t have anything bringing eyes this way,” he says with concern and urgency. He looked over at the gangster, and he’s known the man long enough to read his body language that he agreed, even though Simon was a master poker face.
“I hate to say this, but I agree. I will have some of my guys start digging; maybe the Montreal Nord charter of the Brothers can hit the level of the Montreal port scene,” he said with an almost sad tone, as Scott was one of his closest brothers. That sadness wasn’t lost on John as he nodded in agreement.
Now the hard part begins for these two men as they look for a suitable replacement to something the biker hates and possibly do something that breaks both of their hearts.
London Bridge
London, England
February 10th, 2021
Evening
London and all its surroundings John had seen in his youth were always among his favourite places to go when he was a young boy when his mom would bring him here. It is a footnote on who he used to be; a kind child growing up outside Tokyo who took family vacations to Europe with his twin sister and mother. His mother made sure that American or Canadian teachers would teach him and his sister in closed private studies to keep the western world in them as she did want to go back once the kids would be old enough not to be influenced by their father. Still, as children, they couldn’t help but observe what was going on around them. Being raised in Japan gave them a sense of honour that is lacked in the North American way of life. When the twins came home to London, Ontario in 2006, being sixteen, they missed the trips to England, France and Portugal in the summer, and while the influence thing worked for Tamika, it did not work for John. John leans against the concrete railing of the massive bridge. His face lit by the streetlights and the moon high in the sky. Harold was ready to walk backwards as John stood up straight, admiring one of the world’s greatest structures in Big Ben seen off in the distance. He adjusts his dark blue jeans with the cuffs falling just the right way on his snakeskin boots. Straightening out the dark grey hoodie that has the Fallout logo on it, listening to his lady friend he wore thermal garments under his clothes, and of course, his kutte is over the top. He begins his walk, hands in denim pockets, and the crunching sound from the snow fills the air as he walks.
“You know Project: Honor, a lot of people have given me shit for how I have won my matches and for how I got here in this position of being possibly the first Prime Champion of the new Fallout brand. I have said it multiple times that I fear I have started to sound like a broken record,” he says, taking a few seconds to compose himself. “I made my debut on the Pay Per View Bloodbath, against a postal worker that was jacked on protecting the art of mail delivery, so I pulled my weapon on him, and he wasn’t the same for a bit after that, and I got the win. It was no holds barred, and I took it the fucking limit. Then, of course, there was Ryan Young, who retired from what I hear after the beating I gave him, and I get shit because he wasn’t up to standards to a few around here in PH.”
John reaches into his kutte and pulls out his soft pack of Marlboro Reds as he taps it on his left hand and lifts the pack up to pull the cigarette out with his lips. He retrieves a BIC lighter from his pocket and inhales the cancerous blue smoke when it ignites. He stops walking and takes a moment to watch a few cars pass by, people looking on at the promo being cut in front of their eyes.
“Then I helped the Big Drip unit secure their Warrior Rising championship when I put down Sara Roberts, who again was never the same after I pinned her, and I sure as hell don’t see her around anymore. I got my first loss in the cage because I let the wrong type of pride overcome me, and Indy was straight up the better man that night. There are very few things I have pride for in this screwed up world, and for some reason, I let that glory rush to my head and that allowed me to forgot who I was. That woke me up, and it made me hungry. I came back with a win and beat a man who reminds me of an upstate New York Leatherface in his own damn match, so I set the man’s hair on fire to get this position of facing my older sister’s tag team partner, Drago Santiago.”
He takes a drag off his cigarette and starts walking towards us again, but due to Harold’s excellent footwork, he never seems to quite catch up.
“I hadn’t wrestled since 2008 outside a few matches with Tamika, and before I started prospecting as a Bandido. After earning my patch, I traded it in to be the President of the Brothers of Mayhem, a club I could truly call my own, as I built it up to what it is today. Twelve years later, I decided to give the wrestling business another go and get into the family business. I sit here at 4-1-0 in a place that offers some high-end talent, top to bottom no matter who you’re facing, but that’s still not good enough for the trolls. No matter how many times I make the walk down that ramp and have my arm raised as the winner at the end of it, it will never be good enough. Although, I have found in life that usually means they are jealous of the success you have or are having,” he says with a smirk planted firmly on his face.
“I have had in-ring success even after not stepping through a set of ropes for twelve fucking years,” he seethes with the curse, his eyes icy blue eyes cold enough to almost frost the camera lens. “I never asked for anything more than to be booked and do what I get paid to do; hurt men and women between those four ring posts. What does Victoria like to say to me?” he asks, looking down in thought for a few seconds before looking up with a sneer. “Haters are gonna hate.”
He lifts his left hand to his mouth to take another drag and exhales through his nostrils.
“My only goal coming back into this business was to be who I am deep down in my soul. I can’t help it if some essential people like Christian DeMarco recognize who he needs to be taking the spot as Fallout’s face. He allowed me to make it to The Crowning for the top strap on the top brand and not in some clusterfuck of a match with secret prizes. I took that opportunity, and I will do precisely what I need to do to win the Prime Championship when I take on Drago Santiago in what is being called a ‘Love Hurts Match.’ Demarco has pulled out all the stops with this one, replacing the ropes with chains, plus glass tables surrounding the ring,” he says without ever giving a hint of his dislike of shards of glass. “You know, my niece might be onto something about those in charge trying to kill contracted talent. I just hope that after I survive whatever it is they try to throw at us, that there will be an extra bump in the envelope.”
John stops around the bridge’s halfway point and leans against the concrete barrier as a cool wind whips through, giving the Outlaw and his cameraman a bit of chill. Although you would never know as John didn’t show any signs of it. He looks down over the side at the water channel before looking back up and continuing his trek across the London Bridge.
“If you had asked me this time last year if I thought I would be wrestling the guy who just won the Revolution1 Wrestling Tag Team Championships with my older sister, Meghan Nash Strader, I would tell you that you are crazy. Yet here I am,” he says, shrugging. He grabs onto his kutte, his hands grasping onto the leather. “In London, England to boot! I would have never predicted it, but that’s one of the things the entire Strader clan loves about wrestling, and that’s the unpredictability that comes with the business. When things are the same and are dangerously close to being in a rut, get the fuck out. The MC life, my family life, and my wrestling life is all so unpredictable. Chaotic. Anarchy all about. I thrive on it, that chaos and anarchy. I told Callum I would end my tenure in this company if he drafted me, and I did exactly that. I have done precisely what I have said I am going to do, four out of five times anyways, and here we are, Drago. Not even good enough apparently to beat out a non-defending Grand Champions critical press conference or whatever Dimitri is calling it or being the main event or even headliner. Nope, we have been relegated to rip each other’s flesh down lower on the card, but, you know what?” he asks, his nostrils flaring. “It doesn’t matter, because after whatever happens in this Love Hurts match, it’s everything after that has to bring it to the level that I am sure we will bring it to.”
“You and me, Drago, we aren’t that much different. I have seen you claim to be different from my sister, but that’s really true. I mean, sure, like me, you like to rip people new assholes, literally and figuratively, verbally and physically. It’s what makes this business so great. We get to hurt people, and at the end, we collect a paycheque for it.”
“You said something when you were in the semi-finals; I think it might have been towards that redheaded kid you two slapped around in back to back matches. You said you trust my sister because she’s a student of the game; she’s always working to better herself and be better than she was before. I’m going to let you in on something…”
His icy blue eyes turn a darker shade of blue as his sneer takes over his face.
“... all of us Strader’s are. This family breeds excellence. I have heard the words leave your lips. We have cemented a lineage that’s only getting deeper with talent. My niece’s record does not reflect what she has been able to do against the squared circle’s journeymen here in Project: Honor,” he says, looking down at the pavement for only a second as he brings his icy gaze back upon us. “You are a vicious man Drago, much like myself, but there is something you lack and what will end up being one of the reasons you won’t be crowned Prime Champion; in my life, I had two families, the one I was given and the one I chose in my MC, but now the Fallout brand is my third and second chosen family. That’s why you won’t win. I care about this roster, and we both know you don’t. I can see the lone wolf within you, luring the sheep in for the slaughter. As for me? Sometimes I will have to smack a few of them in the back of the head into the right timezone, but in the end, just like in my MC, that’s what you got to do sometimes. I can make the hard choices, and that choice isn't always to rip another person apart.”
His sneer feels like it’s burned into his face, as the smoke leaving his nose looks like it has come into our personal space before the wind takes it away.
“While we both care about leaving a path of bodies in our wakes, I know that is all it is with you. I will take my spot at the top of the mountain on Fallout, not because I want to, but because I need to. In life, it’s rarely about what you want but more of the universe giving us what we need to get to the next day. The Fallout roster needs someone that understands that this isn’t just my personal playground; it’s a business filled with my brother and sisters in green. The Crowning will see the three most feared initials in professional wrestling named the first-ever Prime Champion. I don’t need to die the hero or live long enough to become the villain,” he says, taking one last drag of his smoke. He exhales the blue smoke as he finishes his thought.
“Because I am the Outlaw.”
Our scene fades as the Outlaw walks past Harold and us, his patch filling our screen before turning into the Fallout logo, followed by an advertisement for The Crowning.
