Post by Furious Julius Fairweather on Jul 27, 2021 18:14:32 GMT -5
JULY 22ND
“Who the fuck booked this motherfucking tour? From Melbourne to Perth and then off to Osaka?”
Julius shook his head back and forth as he pulled into the parking garage near the studio where he was scheduled to film the latest episode of The F-Word.
“Still, there’s worse ways to spend a couple of days than touring the southern coast of the “Land Down Unda”. If Johnson finds out I’ve been billing Project: Honor to have my Cadillac shipped all over the globe, he’s gonna be one pissed off motherfucker.”
Julius flicked the remainder of a joint out of his car window while he chuckled to himself and pulled the golden automobile into an empty spot. With nothing on his mind except for his upcoming show, he turned off the engine and pocketed his keys. Barely one step away from his cherished automobile, the sound of screeching tires grabbed his attention and forced him to spin around. The car hurtling toward him left little time for Julius to react, and leaping into the air was his immediate reaction. Twisting his body in mid-air brought his shoulder blades against the vehicle’s windshield before he bounced over the roof, off the car’s trunk, and onto the unforgiving pavement.
With blood dripping from an open wound on his head and his vision blurred, Julius rolled onto his side to watch the car speed toward the parking garage exit. In that moment, whether real or imagined, he saw the vehicle’s license plate as clear as if it were a few feet away. In that stunned state, he read the letters “THEEDGE” before passing into unconsciousness.
Fortunately for Julius, his personal assistant, Winston Winfield, and his newly acquired cameraman, Cameron, were not far behind. The idea of James Edgebrook sitting behind the wheel of the car was still on his mind as Winston stirred him back to consciousness.
“James Edgebrook...you dumb mother fucker…”
It was all he could manage to say before darkness overtook him again.
A Few Days Later.
“Hell yes, I’m medically cleared, motherfucker!”
With Cameron and Winston following close behind him, Julius made his way through the streets of Perth in an attempt to clear his mind and focus on his upcoming match at Fallout X. Despite his confidence, his associates were not easily convinced.
“Sir, you took a nasty bump on the head, and this match Mr. DeMarco has come up with is nothing to take lightly. Perhaps asking for a week off wouldn’t be so bad…”
Julius stopped dead in his tracks and spun back on his heels, giving his middle-aged assistant a bug-eyed glare.
“Motherfucker, I ain’t missed an episode of Fallout yet, and I ain’t about to start! James Edegbrook could run me down with a motherfucking freight train and I’d still be there!”
“Um...of course sir...it’s just that…”
“It’s just nothing, motherfucker! You already recorded that shitty ass version of The F Word without me, and I ain’t about to miss Dead In The Headlights!”
Winston tugged at his shirt collar as he found the nerve to correct his employer.
“That’s Dead By Daylight, sir. I believe it’s based on a video game…”
Cameron remained silent as he looked from Julius to Winston, too uncomfortable to interject.
“You’re about to be based off the tip of my motherfucking boot if you keep correcting me, old man!”
Julius turned back around and picked up the pace, hoping to put some distance between himself and his unwanted entourage. When he heard Winston pipe up yet again, he knew his efforts were in vain.
“Sir, if I may, we can’t even be sure that it was James Edgebrook behind the wheel. It seems to me that he would gleefully take credit for your recent misfortunes if he was indeed behind them…”
Again, Julius stopped to spin around and glare at his assistant.
“Oh? And just who else hates me enough to pull that kind of shit! That motherfucker has been out to get me since I cracked my first joke at his expense!”
Winston quietly cleared his throat as he prepared to present his case.
“That may be true, sir, but I can think of a few others who you haven’t treated with a great deal of respect. Perhaps your obsession with Mr. Edgebrook has clouded your…”
Before Winston could finish, Julius shoved him aside and took a step towards Cameron.
“Alright then. Camera boy, settle this shit for us. Have I been anything but a gracious motherfucking employer?”
Cameron briefly looked from his employer to Winston, desperate to hide his own involvement with the mysterious Fairweather Revenge Squad.
“Um...no?”
It was a meek response, but one that was good enough for Julius.
“And are you disgruntled with the way you’ve been treated?”
“...not really…”
“And I bet those cheeseburgers taste really nice when you’re using my money to pay for them, don’t they?”
“...I don’t eat meat…”
“And I bet you’ve been enjoying all kinds of Australian poontang on that minimum wage you collect at my expense, haven’t you?”
“...well...I’m married…”
Ignoring all of Cameron’s responses, Julius quickly turned back towards Winston.
“There you have it, motherfucker. From the mouths of babes. I ain’t nothing if not a kind and generous motherfucker! Now quit playing Sherlock and start thinking of ways I can get back at that scrawny little Edgebrook while Cameron and I cut a motherfucking promo!”
With a heavy sigh, Winston nodded his head in defeat. Turning away from his employer, he began to make his way back to their hotel. Julius watched him walk away as he fought with his own doubts. The truth was, it was easier to blame the hit and run on an enemy he knew than one he didn’t. Once Winston was out of sight, Julius finally cleared his mind of those errant thoughts and turned back to his personal cameraman.
“Get that camera rolling, motherfucker. I’ve got some important shit to say!”
AIRED PROMO
“Dead By Daylight. What in the name of Super Mario’s moustache pubes is this shit all about? If you ask me, DeMarco’s been spending too many lonely nights on his XBox. I can almost picture that crazy motherfucker, sitting there in his pajama pants with Dorito dust all over his happy little face, empty bottles of Mountain Dew up to his ankles, while he’s making fun of Junior High kids over a wireless microphone. Just imagine his eyes lighting up when he unlocks that platinum trophy or reaches his thousandth kill. Motherfucker’s probably got a gamer tag like Boner4Babes69 or some shit. As for me? I ain’t much of a gamer, but if I was, my tag would be BadMotherFucker. That’s because I don’t need to make up a fake name or live out my fantasies in some digital playground. My real life has more than enough excitement.”
Julius’ expression is as serious as a heart attack while Cameron films him, an unknown city street in Perth, Australia serving as his backdrop.
“While guys like DeMarco are waiting in line at GameStop, I’ve got motherfuckers trying to run me down on the street because they know I’m too bad to mess with face-to-face. My boy, Jason Long, knows what I’m talking about. Unfortunately, Jason has to play the killer in DeMarco’s wet dream come to life on this week’s Fallout. His targets? Havoc, Slade Castle, Rapture, and yours truly. I’ll get to my partners soon enough, but first things first; Julius Fairweather ain’t no man’s victim, not even someone I respect like Jason Long. I know he’s gonna be out there in the darkness like some horror movie villain with that big baseball bat wrapped in razor wire. I also know that at some point, he’s gonna have to look me in the motherfucking eyes and decide whether or not Christian’s little game is worth putting our mutual respect at risk. I understand that we’re all in this business to win, but Jason, if you bring that bat down over my skull, you’d better be ready for what I’ll do in return. I may not be able to lay a hand on you under Dead By Daylight rules, but I plan on being with Fallout for a long time to come, and it’s only a matter of time until the weapon is in my hands instead of yours.”
“I respect everything you’ve done to become champion. Hell, we fought back to back in a South American bar fight, and I can only count the number of people I’ve done that with on one motherfucking finger. As it stands now, I’m willing to count you with my index finger, but once that razor wire touches my skin, you’re gonna get the tall man in the middle. I know a rude gesture doesn’t mean much to some people, but Jason knows what’s coming for a motherfucker after that middle finger shows his face. I don’t have any designs on that Prime Championship right now, so you’re better off swinging that bat in another direction. If you have a change of heart and try to bash in my beautiful face? Well, I might have a change of heart myself. Right now, Jason? We cool. I hope that doesn’t change after Thursday.”
“Now then, I promised to give my teammates their fair time, so let’s start with Rapture. Of all the motherfuckers on Fallout to have to rely on, we get Fallout’s version of the Brooklyn motherfucking Brawler. Do you hear that sound, Rapture? It’s your phone ringing off the hook. Don’t bother answering the motherfucker cause it’s just Dwayne Gill asking for his win/loss record back. I swear on Lu Kang’s bicycle kick, if you cost us this motherfucking match, I’m gonna make your horror movie dreams come true. Only you’ll be the virgin and I’ll be sacrificing your ass in the name of token black sidekicks who never make it to the third act. Just hide in a motherfucking corner and let the professionals do the dirty work.”
“There is one motherfucker on my side that I think I can count on. At least I hope I can. Slade Castle may be a new face for some of you motherfuckers out there, but we happen to have something in common. We’re both from the mean streets of Detroit, and in between gigs I used to spend a little time placing bets on the local fights. When I say local, I ain’t talking about the kind of shit advertised in a motherfucking newspaper. I’m talking about the kind of shit that’s invitation only. Real blood sport shit that most people are too squeamish to handle. Slade Castle? That’s the world this motherfucker is coming from. I should know, cause I won a shitload of cash betting on his ass. I never fought him, cause I ain’t got no death wish, but I know what he can do when there ain’t many rules to follow. Trust me, if Jason Long swings that bat at him, he’d better plan on swinging a few extra times. I’m not sure he’s the kind of guy who will obey a referee and not fight back, but if that happens I guess it just gives me more time to get the fuck out of there. I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ll bring to the table, Castle, and as long as you ain’t doing it at my expense, we’ll get along just fine. In fact, I hope I’m making a little more cash off your violent tendencies sooner rather than later.”
“Last but not least, it’s that crazy motherfucker who gives Pyro’s psychotic episodes a run for their money. I’ve crossed paths with Havoc a few times already, and ain’t none of them been what I’d call a good time. I know I can’t trust this motherfucker any further than I can throw him, so let’s just toss that bullshit out of the way right now. What I do know is that he and Jason don’t like each other very much. That might just work to my advantage. Maybe they’ll spend the whole match focused on each other, and while Rapture’s hiding in his corner, me and Castle can kick those fucking prize boxes in like the Mario Brothers on a weekend bender. If that happens and it turns into a race to see who can get out first? Spoilers, motherfuckers, I’m fast as fuck when someone’s chasing my ass with razor wire. So Havoc, you go in there and do your thing. Distract Jason or get your head beat in like a ripe melon. Either one is fine with me. Just know that while you’re making a big, fat target out of yourself, I’ll be reaping the rewards for Team Fairweather.”
“Now I know that I just adopted the new name of Gatekeeper, and I lived up to that motherfucking name at Guts, Gold, and Glory with about a dozen Royales With Cheese. Well now it’s time for the motherfucking Gatekeeper to turn into the Keymaster. Hell, I’ve picked so many motherfucking locks in my day, I may not even use a key to get out of DeMarco’s little maze. I’ll be busting chests open like motherfucking Link in a Pottery Barn! My goal is to get the fuck out of Crazy Christian’s funhouse as soon as fucking possible, and ain’t none of you gonna stop me. If that means the understanding between me and Jason gets fractured?”
He pauses, maintaining his serious expression.
“So be it. If it means Rapture becomes my virginal sacrifice?”
Julius shrugs his shoulders.
“It’s cool. If that means I have to spoil Slade Castle’s debut to save my own ass?”
He then gives his head a few nods in the affirmative.
“I’m okay with that too. If it means that Havoc gets beaten like a piñata while my happy ass heads for greener pastures?”
One of his charming smiles crosses his face.
“You’re goddamn right that’s how it’s gonna be. My apologies to Fairweather’s Super Squad, but I ain’t in this shit for no team trophy. I’m in this motherfucker to survive. Just ask the motherfucker with the lead foot who tried to run my ass down earlier this week, and he’ll tell you that I’m really good at surviving. Dead By Daylight? Nah, not me. Not this motherfucker. More Like Gone in Sixty Seconds. This is one brother who’s gonna make it to that final act, I just don’t plan on it taking that long. Until next time motherfuckers, be cool or be gone.”
With that, Cameron finishes recording the promo and Julius dismisses him in order to continue his walking tour of the foreign city.
SEVERAL HOURS LATER
Returning to the hotel on his own, Cameron the cameraman enters the hotel bar while continuously looking over his shoulder. Once he’s certain that no one has followed him or is even remotely paying attention to his presence, he makes his way to a dimly lit corner booth. He takes a seat and sets his camera on the table. Across from him, Nigel Half-weather lowers the newspaper that had previously concealed his identity and gives Cameron a nod. Without saying a word, Nigel then slides a simple envelope across the table and the cameraman slides it into his jacket pocket.
“Keep up the good work, motherfucker. Just make sure we know where that son of bitch is at all times and there will be more where that came from.”
Still nervously glancing around the bar, Cameron leans forward to whisper his response.
“I’m starting to think this is going too far. I mean, you guys tried to run him over with your car!”
Nigel’s eyes narrow as he gives Cameron a threatening glare.
“You’re goddamn right we did, and that’s only the start. This thing won’t be over until we’ve gotten rid of Julius Fairweather once and for all. Just remember, Cameron, if we’re willing to do that to him, what do you think we could do to someone like you?”
With a heavy gulp, Cameron nods his head and slides out of the booth. As he makes his way away from Nigel’s table, neither of the men seem to notice the watchful eyes of a poorly disguised Winston Winfield upon them from the other side of the bar….
“Who the fuck booked this motherfucking tour? From Melbourne to Perth and then off to Osaka?”
Julius shook his head back and forth as he pulled into the parking garage near the studio where he was scheduled to film the latest episode of The F-Word.
“Still, there’s worse ways to spend a couple of days than touring the southern coast of the “Land Down Unda”. If Johnson finds out I’ve been billing Project: Honor to have my Cadillac shipped all over the globe, he’s gonna be one pissed off motherfucker.”
Julius flicked the remainder of a joint out of his car window while he chuckled to himself and pulled the golden automobile into an empty spot. With nothing on his mind except for his upcoming show, he turned off the engine and pocketed his keys. Barely one step away from his cherished automobile, the sound of screeching tires grabbed his attention and forced him to spin around. The car hurtling toward him left little time for Julius to react, and leaping into the air was his immediate reaction. Twisting his body in mid-air brought his shoulder blades against the vehicle’s windshield before he bounced over the roof, off the car’s trunk, and onto the unforgiving pavement.
With blood dripping from an open wound on his head and his vision blurred, Julius rolled onto his side to watch the car speed toward the parking garage exit. In that moment, whether real or imagined, he saw the vehicle’s license plate as clear as if it were a few feet away. In that stunned state, he read the letters “THEEDGE” before passing into unconsciousness.
Fortunately for Julius, his personal assistant, Winston Winfield, and his newly acquired cameraman, Cameron, were not far behind. The idea of James Edgebrook sitting behind the wheel of the car was still on his mind as Winston stirred him back to consciousness.
“James Edgebrook...you dumb mother fucker…”
It was all he could manage to say before darkness overtook him again.
A Few Days Later.
“Hell yes, I’m medically cleared, motherfucker!”
With Cameron and Winston following close behind him, Julius made his way through the streets of Perth in an attempt to clear his mind and focus on his upcoming match at Fallout X. Despite his confidence, his associates were not easily convinced.
“Sir, you took a nasty bump on the head, and this match Mr. DeMarco has come up with is nothing to take lightly. Perhaps asking for a week off wouldn’t be so bad…”
Julius stopped dead in his tracks and spun back on his heels, giving his middle-aged assistant a bug-eyed glare.
“Motherfucker, I ain’t missed an episode of Fallout yet, and I ain’t about to start! James Edegbrook could run me down with a motherfucking freight train and I’d still be there!”
“Um...of course sir...it’s just that…”
“It’s just nothing, motherfucker! You already recorded that shitty ass version of The F Word without me, and I ain’t about to miss Dead In The Headlights!”
Winston tugged at his shirt collar as he found the nerve to correct his employer.
“That’s Dead By Daylight, sir. I believe it’s based on a video game…”
Cameron remained silent as he looked from Julius to Winston, too uncomfortable to interject.
“You’re about to be based off the tip of my motherfucking boot if you keep correcting me, old man!”
Julius turned back around and picked up the pace, hoping to put some distance between himself and his unwanted entourage. When he heard Winston pipe up yet again, he knew his efforts were in vain.
“Sir, if I may, we can’t even be sure that it was James Edgebrook behind the wheel. It seems to me that he would gleefully take credit for your recent misfortunes if he was indeed behind them…”
Again, Julius stopped to spin around and glare at his assistant.
“Oh? And just who else hates me enough to pull that kind of shit! That motherfucker has been out to get me since I cracked my first joke at his expense!”
Winston quietly cleared his throat as he prepared to present his case.
“That may be true, sir, but I can think of a few others who you haven’t treated with a great deal of respect. Perhaps your obsession with Mr. Edgebrook has clouded your…”
Before Winston could finish, Julius shoved him aside and took a step towards Cameron.
“Alright then. Camera boy, settle this shit for us. Have I been anything but a gracious motherfucking employer?”
Cameron briefly looked from his employer to Winston, desperate to hide his own involvement with the mysterious Fairweather Revenge Squad.
“Um...no?”
It was a meek response, but one that was good enough for Julius.
“And are you disgruntled with the way you’ve been treated?”
“...not really…”
“And I bet those cheeseburgers taste really nice when you’re using my money to pay for them, don’t they?”
“...I don’t eat meat…”
“And I bet you’ve been enjoying all kinds of Australian poontang on that minimum wage you collect at my expense, haven’t you?”
“...well...I’m married…”
Ignoring all of Cameron’s responses, Julius quickly turned back towards Winston.
“There you have it, motherfucker. From the mouths of babes. I ain’t nothing if not a kind and generous motherfucker! Now quit playing Sherlock and start thinking of ways I can get back at that scrawny little Edgebrook while Cameron and I cut a motherfucking promo!”
With a heavy sigh, Winston nodded his head in defeat. Turning away from his employer, he began to make his way back to their hotel. Julius watched him walk away as he fought with his own doubts. The truth was, it was easier to blame the hit and run on an enemy he knew than one he didn’t. Once Winston was out of sight, Julius finally cleared his mind of those errant thoughts and turned back to his personal cameraman.
“Get that camera rolling, motherfucker. I’ve got some important shit to say!”
AIRED PROMO
“Dead By Daylight. What in the name of Super Mario’s moustache pubes is this shit all about? If you ask me, DeMarco’s been spending too many lonely nights on his XBox. I can almost picture that crazy motherfucker, sitting there in his pajama pants with Dorito dust all over his happy little face, empty bottles of Mountain Dew up to his ankles, while he’s making fun of Junior High kids over a wireless microphone. Just imagine his eyes lighting up when he unlocks that platinum trophy or reaches his thousandth kill. Motherfucker’s probably got a gamer tag like Boner4Babes69 or some shit. As for me? I ain’t much of a gamer, but if I was, my tag would be BadMotherFucker. That’s because I don’t need to make up a fake name or live out my fantasies in some digital playground. My real life has more than enough excitement.”
Julius’ expression is as serious as a heart attack while Cameron films him, an unknown city street in Perth, Australia serving as his backdrop.
“While guys like DeMarco are waiting in line at GameStop, I’ve got motherfuckers trying to run me down on the street because they know I’m too bad to mess with face-to-face. My boy, Jason Long, knows what I’m talking about. Unfortunately, Jason has to play the killer in DeMarco’s wet dream come to life on this week’s Fallout. His targets? Havoc, Slade Castle, Rapture, and yours truly. I’ll get to my partners soon enough, but first things first; Julius Fairweather ain’t no man’s victim, not even someone I respect like Jason Long. I know he’s gonna be out there in the darkness like some horror movie villain with that big baseball bat wrapped in razor wire. I also know that at some point, he’s gonna have to look me in the motherfucking eyes and decide whether or not Christian’s little game is worth putting our mutual respect at risk. I understand that we’re all in this business to win, but Jason, if you bring that bat down over my skull, you’d better be ready for what I’ll do in return. I may not be able to lay a hand on you under Dead By Daylight rules, but I plan on being with Fallout for a long time to come, and it’s only a matter of time until the weapon is in my hands instead of yours.”
“I respect everything you’ve done to become champion. Hell, we fought back to back in a South American bar fight, and I can only count the number of people I’ve done that with on one motherfucking finger. As it stands now, I’m willing to count you with my index finger, but once that razor wire touches my skin, you’re gonna get the tall man in the middle. I know a rude gesture doesn’t mean much to some people, but Jason knows what’s coming for a motherfucker after that middle finger shows his face. I don’t have any designs on that Prime Championship right now, so you’re better off swinging that bat in another direction. If you have a change of heart and try to bash in my beautiful face? Well, I might have a change of heart myself. Right now, Jason? We cool. I hope that doesn’t change after Thursday.”
“Now then, I promised to give my teammates their fair time, so let’s start with Rapture. Of all the motherfuckers on Fallout to have to rely on, we get Fallout’s version of the Brooklyn motherfucking Brawler. Do you hear that sound, Rapture? It’s your phone ringing off the hook. Don’t bother answering the motherfucker cause it’s just Dwayne Gill asking for his win/loss record back. I swear on Lu Kang’s bicycle kick, if you cost us this motherfucking match, I’m gonna make your horror movie dreams come true. Only you’ll be the virgin and I’ll be sacrificing your ass in the name of token black sidekicks who never make it to the third act. Just hide in a motherfucking corner and let the professionals do the dirty work.”
“There is one motherfucker on my side that I think I can count on. At least I hope I can. Slade Castle may be a new face for some of you motherfuckers out there, but we happen to have something in common. We’re both from the mean streets of Detroit, and in between gigs I used to spend a little time placing bets on the local fights. When I say local, I ain’t talking about the kind of shit advertised in a motherfucking newspaper. I’m talking about the kind of shit that’s invitation only. Real blood sport shit that most people are too squeamish to handle. Slade Castle? That’s the world this motherfucker is coming from. I should know, cause I won a shitload of cash betting on his ass. I never fought him, cause I ain’t got no death wish, but I know what he can do when there ain’t many rules to follow. Trust me, if Jason Long swings that bat at him, he’d better plan on swinging a few extra times. I’m not sure he’s the kind of guy who will obey a referee and not fight back, but if that happens I guess it just gives me more time to get the fuck out of there. I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ll bring to the table, Castle, and as long as you ain’t doing it at my expense, we’ll get along just fine. In fact, I hope I’m making a little more cash off your violent tendencies sooner rather than later.”
“Last but not least, it’s that crazy motherfucker who gives Pyro’s psychotic episodes a run for their money. I’ve crossed paths with Havoc a few times already, and ain’t none of them been what I’d call a good time. I know I can’t trust this motherfucker any further than I can throw him, so let’s just toss that bullshit out of the way right now. What I do know is that he and Jason don’t like each other very much. That might just work to my advantage. Maybe they’ll spend the whole match focused on each other, and while Rapture’s hiding in his corner, me and Castle can kick those fucking prize boxes in like the Mario Brothers on a weekend bender. If that happens and it turns into a race to see who can get out first? Spoilers, motherfuckers, I’m fast as fuck when someone’s chasing my ass with razor wire. So Havoc, you go in there and do your thing. Distract Jason or get your head beat in like a ripe melon. Either one is fine with me. Just know that while you’re making a big, fat target out of yourself, I’ll be reaping the rewards for Team Fairweather.”
“Now I know that I just adopted the new name of Gatekeeper, and I lived up to that motherfucking name at Guts, Gold, and Glory with about a dozen Royales With Cheese. Well now it’s time for the motherfucking Gatekeeper to turn into the Keymaster. Hell, I’ve picked so many motherfucking locks in my day, I may not even use a key to get out of DeMarco’s little maze. I’ll be busting chests open like motherfucking Link in a Pottery Barn! My goal is to get the fuck out of Crazy Christian’s funhouse as soon as fucking possible, and ain’t none of you gonna stop me. If that means the understanding between me and Jason gets fractured?”
He pauses, maintaining his serious expression.
“So be it. If it means Rapture becomes my virginal sacrifice?”
Julius shrugs his shoulders.
“It’s cool. If that means I have to spoil Slade Castle’s debut to save my own ass?”
He then gives his head a few nods in the affirmative.
“I’m okay with that too. If it means that Havoc gets beaten like a piñata while my happy ass heads for greener pastures?”
One of his charming smiles crosses his face.
“You’re goddamn right that’s how it’s gonna be. My apologies to Fairweather’s Super Squad, but I ain’t in this shit for no team trophy. I’m in this motherfucker to survive. Just ask the motherfucker with the lead foot who tried to run my ass down earlier this week, and he’ll tell you that I’m really good at surviving. Dead By Daylight? Nah, not me. Not this motherfucker. More Like Gone in Sixty Seconds. This is one brother who’s gonna make it to that final act, I just don’t plan on it taking that long. Until next time motherfuckers, be cool or be gone.”
With that, Cameron finishes recording the promo and Julius dismisses him in order to continue his walking tour of the foreign city.
SEVERAL HOURS LATER
Returning to the hotel on his own, Cameron the cameraman enters the hotel bar while continuously looking over his shoulder. Once he’s certain that no one has followed him or is even remotely paying attention to his presence, he makes his way to a dimly lit corner booth. He takes a seat and sets his camera on the table. Across from him, Nigel Half-weather lowers the newspaper that had previously concealed his identity and gives Cameron a nod. Without saying a word, Nigel then slides a simple envelope across the table and the cameraman slides it into his jacket pocket.
“Keep up the good work, motherfucker. Just make sure we know where that son of bitch is at all times and there will be more where that came from.”
Still nervously glancing around the bar, Cameron leans forward to whisper his response.
“I’m starting to think this is going too far. I mean, you guys tried to run him over with your car!”
Nigel’s eyes narrow as he gives Cameron a threatening glare.
“You’re goddamn right we did, and that’s only the start. This thing won’t be over until we’ve gotten rid of Julius Fairweather once and for all. Just remember, Cameron, if we’re willing to do that to him, what do you think we could do to someone like you?”
With a heavy gulp, Cameron nods his head and slides out of the booth. As he makes his way away from Nigel’s table, neither of the men seem to notice the watchful eyes of a poorly disguised Winston Winfield upon them from the other side of the bar….
