Post by Press1269 on Feb 15, 2016 1:49:10 GMT
The BombTrax rolled the Pontiac into a parking space outside The Crossroads some distance from the building. Escaping New Orleans on the morning of Fat Tuesday was more of an ordeal than either of the men had anticipated. They were both glad that they had gotten an early start, because the bumper to bumper traffic and road closings had cost them nearly two extra hours just in order to exit the city. By the time they made it to North Shore, they were still thirty-five minutes from the park, and still embroiled in traffic.
They made a brief stop at a Red Roof Inn and booked themselves a room, deciding that they weren’t going to fight their way back through that mess when their time at the park was complete. The park was busy enough itself, the parking lot already full of people awaiting entry. Many different events were scheduled throughout the day to ring in Mardis Gras, and a sign on the front of The Crossroads said ‘Open 24/7, All Week Long’ when they approached the front door.
Upon entering, they could see that the festivities were well underway even at 10a.m., with people milling about with beverages already in hand. The wait staff seemed to have everything under control, and a band was tuning their instruments on stage, eyeing the rowdy patrons who had decided to start the party early.
The two men searched the room for Lady Munin, but their eyes found Samedi first. The Cajun was behind the bar speaking with one of his baristas when he looked up, almost as if a sixth sense had informed him of visitors, and spotted the two men. He regarded them with a skeletal grin, wrapped up his conversation, and then made his way from behind the bar to the front door to greet them.
“Boys, it’s good to see you.” He beamed, grabbing both men by the shoulder.
“What’s got you in such a good mood, Bones?” Press asked, smirking at the dark man’s enthusiasm.
“Oh, why wouldn’t I be? It’s a glorious Fat Tuesday, both of my establishments are packed full of paying patrons, I am in good health, and in a few short minutes, I’ll get to watch two of my closest associates get cowed by a tiny slip of a woman.” Samedi chuckled softly, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Will you two never learn? What were you thinking?” he asked, indicating the steps off to his side with a wave of his hand.
Press sighed, and started for the steps while responding. “Haven’t you been paying attention, Sam? We weren’t thinking.”
Samedi let out a loud hoarse laugh as he followed the two men up the steps to the landing that made up the second portion of the tavern, complete with bar and cigar booth. Over in the far corner, in one of the comfy vintage chairs, sat Munin. Her lovely face was completely devoid of expression, and somehow this was more unsettling than the expected fury.
Sam Xayachack looked over his shoulder as the larger gentlemen came into sight. The dark circles under his eyes showed that he had recently suffered from a lack of sleep. Despite everything, the look he gave the Bombtraxx seemed more resigned than hostile, and oddly this set the duo even more on edge. With a final quiet word to his petite partner and a nod of his head he slid past them. The two men stepped to one side so that he could pass, and then continued further into the room. Press sighed heavily before taking a seat, while Youth quietly followed suit. Both men watched Sam's back as he disappeared down the steps. Once he was completely out of sight, they turned their full attention towards Munin, though both found it difficult to maintain any kind of eye contact.
"Well, I can't tell you how happy I was to discover that your phones are still in working order. Now if only you had the time to answer after the show, but then if you two hadn't beat such a hasty retreat a phone call wouldn't have been necessary. So please tell me what was so important that you had to leave me holding the bloody bag with writing on the wall?"
Youth all but deflated on the other side of his partner, even bringing his hand up to his chin to partially hide his face. Press shook his head, and put his elbows on his knees, leaning forward.
"To be honest, we didn't know what to say, so we bolted. It wasn't the brightest move in the world, I'll grant you that, but it seemed like a good idea at the time under the circumstances. It wasn't til after we were an hour down the road that we realized that probably wasn't the best course of action. So for that, we're sorry."
Youth leaned forward to look over Press in order to nod his agreement, but sank back while his partner continued.
"As for why we didn't answer our phones, quite frankly, we were tired, and there was nothing we could say at that point that couldn't wait til now. We all know who was behind this."
The emotionless mask that was painted over their bosses delicate features wavered slightly. The emotion was unidentifiable and fleeting, but whatever it was, Munin was carefully pulling her vape out shortly after feeling it.
"Yes, we do. Actually in more ways than you realize. That aspect of the situation has been dealt with...for now at least."
A plume steam that smelled of rum and coffee perfumed the air, wisping from Munin's mouth and nose in a dragon like manner.
"I'll deal with the rest of the fall out as well..."
Press sank back into his seat, allowing Youth to be seen. The younger of the two regarded Munin with an expression of true remorse.
"We really are sorry about all this. You gotta understand that for the past ten years or so, we've only had to be responsible for ourselves. We're not really used to thinking about anyone else when we make those split second decisions. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it wasn't cause we don't trust you, or that we didn't think you'd believe us, it's just..." He paused, searching for the right words. "We're just not used to people helping us."
The last was said with undeniable conviction, and Press shifted uncomfortably at the admission, staring off into the distance as if a man that had seen every person he'd ever cared for disappear. The loneliness in Youth's eyes was a thing almost tangible, reaching out in a desperate grasp for anyone who could understand.
The look tugged at Munin's heart in ways she didn't care to admit, causing her to signal to a server to bring her two more drinks. Sure her relationship with the men was strictly business, but Munin couldn't help the fact she genuinely cared for them. Beyond what her sense of responsibility and what duty called for.
Whether she wanted to admit it or not she had a soft spot for orphans, and these two were orphans of the world.
She had set up this meeting expecting a confrontation. Instead she was faced with two men full of nothing but remorse. They accepted that the way they handled the situation was wrong, and left themselves open and vulnerable for her reprisal.
Any fury that she had left was gone, and slowly a small smile curved her lips. "Don't worry boy's I am rather resilient, and this entire ordeal will be behind us soon enough. In the future come find me or at least answer your phones. I don't see the need to dwell on it any longer. Is there anything I need to know before we go forward?"
The two men exchanged a glance, but a lot was shared in that brief moment. Press regarded her with a look of trepidation, and nodded before saying, "Ever hear of Johnny Storm?"
Munin arched a brow at the question, and suddenly wished that she had ordered a refill on her own drink.
"Yes..."
"Well," Press began, an edge in his voice that touched on anxiety, "you said that you knew who we were when we first met back at the carny, then you probably remember the 'TPK'. The Peoples Kliq? It was a stable led by Storm, with us and a few others as his back up. Found out later, the hard way, that the whole faction was just a set up for Storm to get back in the title picture. The son of a bitch ran me over with a limo, which inevitably led to a long hard time for me and Youth."
Press paused to glance at Munin to make sure she was following him.
"Go on."
“Well, as I'm sure you know, Johnny Storm, besides being one of the richest men in the world, CEO of the Storm Corporation, one of the wealthiest company's in the world, and leader of his own private militia, he also owns the contracts on us as wrestlers."
Press sighed, running his fingers through his hair before leaning back.
Munin’s eyes went uncharacteristically wide for the usually calm woman. "Excuse me? Say that last part again if you please."
Right as Press was about to speak their drinks were set before them. Munin confiscated one much to the servers amusement and ordered two more. With one hand she signaled for Press to continue as she downed her drink.
"He owns our wrestling contracts. Not the name, not the alias, 'us'. When we aren't in a ring, he has no hold on us. When we are, he pretty much holds it all. Its part of the reason we haven't been in the business for so long. While we were with the carnival, it wasn't that big of a deal. Small potatoes. But this," he pauses, waving around the bar, "is different. PAW is catching fire, and before it's over, I can almost guarantee he's going to take notice."
Munin was silent for a moment her masks ripped away to show just how much the news affected her. The agitation was clear on her face, but so too was the calculations going through her mind. "I do not think a contract like that can actually hold up, but I will have my lawyer's look into it. Otherwise we will cross that bridge when we come to it."
Press nodded gravely, not wanting to point out the fact that they had tried and failed the legal route. Storm Corp. Contracts were ironclad, especially if dealing with something Storm wanted to acquire or keep.
Youth decided to follow suit, and direct the conversation in a different direction. "There is a matter of business that's still left on the table. Something none of us were aware of until this unfortunate deception revealed it."
"And that is?"
"Well, to be honest, with everything that's been going on around here with the lunatic, we figured you had your hands full, so we've kind of been holding back."
Press held up a halting hand, and leaned forward to finish his partners thought. "What he's saying is its time we came off our leash, and in order to do that, we need to know if Alex Cross is going to do more than this part time shit he's been pulling?"
"I'm sorry but exactly how is Alex Cross any of your business? Have I explained your actions to anyone? Have I not paid the fines and waived the probation? Let me be clear. If anyone has had allowances made for them it is you two. You are my chaos factor. Alex is the element of calculated execution...That is all you really need to know."
Press smirked at the edge in her response, though his heart sank at her quick defense. "Every person in PAW is our business, especially those that have vested interest in our dealings. We've been fighting this war from day one, yet the most we've seen out of Cross is his first match last show, and now he's on the opposite side of the ring from us this one. If you're saying our business isn't blended, then I guess that means it’s open season on everyone. Including him."
Press sneered at that last part, his jealousy fueling the response. Luckily, Munin didn't know that. Munin's head titled to the side slightly. It was a manner eerily reminiscent of a bird of prey that had seen something interesting. A dangerous look entered her eyes, and her smile took on a decidedly vicious edge.
"Would you like to say that again in a manner that is less like a threat? You see I don't like threats very much. I've never cared for them..." She shrugged her with a nonchalance that clashed with the look in her eyes. "I don't make threats...I makes promises, and then I keep them."
Press returned the woman's gaze now fully, his eyes now like burning orbs. "They are only threats if they aren't made facts. I guess I didn't realize that when talking about Alex Cross it constitutes the same thing as talking about Munin. I'll make sure to take note of that in the future." The last was said with a sour taste in his mouth, which was evident by the expression on his face.
Youth placed a hand on the big man's shoulder, and it was easy to see it was his subtle way of slowing his brash partner down. He offered a forced smile, before chiming in. "I guess that's why we were asking. I thought after everything we all just went through this past week we could do with a little transparency. We appreciate everything you've done for us, but if Alex is on this crew, we'd like to know where he stands in relation to us. Given our history, and our upcoming match, we just wanted to hear your take on the direction of our little family's future."
Press sank into his seat, resigned to let cooler heads prevail, while Youth clasped his hands in front of him in a silent prayer for compromise.
At Youth's word the promise of violence slowly began to fade from Munin's eyes. She finally relaxed against her chair with a curse. "We have all been through our fair share of insanity these last few weeks. Perhaps it has left me a little on edge myself...Alex Cross is a professional, and he will handle himself accordingly. I do not give free rides to anyone, in fact it is possible that I am harder on him than most...Does that answer your question Youth?"
"It's enough for now. I think I've met my quota today for serious conversation." He grinned, and this time some of the boyish humor from his namesake broke through.
Press, seeming to have lost the crabby attitude, inquired, “Big plans tonight?”
She shrugged her shoulders and pulled out her vape, the intense emotion from moments ago fading away faster than they had arrived. Like trying to catch smoke she couldn’t make the feelings stay. It was odd how often that seemed to happen lately.
“I will be overseeing festivities here, and then going home to watch ‘Rose Red’ with Travis, my son.”
Press nodded, and Youth smiled mischievously. “Yeah, I think we’re going to hang for some of the festivities in the park as well.”
At that moment, Samedi meandered his way to their table, and slid the tab over to Munin. “Alex is down stairs.” He gave Press and Youth a very pointed look. “I don’t want any fighting in my place. We clear?”
Press’ jaw visibly tightened at the mention of Alex, but Youth suddenly burst to his feet drawing everyone’s attention to him. “Aww, c’mon Sam, we’re just a couple of guys looking for a good time. We don’t want any trouble.”
He paused long enough to cast Munin a pleading look, and a nod of his head towards the stairs. He smiled sheepishly after that, and cast the woman a wink as if they were in collusion.
The look of confusion she gave him was near comical, and surprisingly adorable in its innocence. “Oooook. Well, I hope you guys enjoy your night,” she remarked, after laying down some money on the table, and gathering her things. She offered them a final smile as she stood, and started towards the stairs and out of sight.
Press stood to join Youth, who blew out a long gust of air in relief, while Samedi eyed the two shaking his head, scooping up the money. “You two are fools.” Is all the Cajun had to say before making his way towards the stairs himself.
Press stepped over to the railing and stared down at the entrance/exit just long enough to see Cross helping Munin with her coat, and then escorting the woman out the door with his hand placed on the small of her back. Youth wasn’t paying attention to any of that, only watching Press as his facial expressions scaled through the emotional gambit that accompanied love.
Finally Youth slapped his partner on the back, and said, “Alright, man. Let’s go paint this park red!” He tried to say it with exuberance, hoping that it might be infectious, but to no avail.
Press just continued staring at the exit the Lady had departed through, before finally looking over to Youth with a halfhearted smile. “Listen, kid. You go, have fun. I’m going to stick around here and see what I can get into.”
Youth’s smile faded, and he regarded his friend in concern. “You sure?”
“Go, on! Get out of here!” He mirthlessly laughed, giving Youth a playful shove towards the steps. He took a deep breath, and nodded. “I’ll be fine. I just need some time to think.”
Youth, seeing no way to dissuade his friend, nodded slowly, and turned towards the steps. About halfway down, he turned to tell him that he would be back around midnight, but Press had already left the railing out of sight. Youth hung his head in sadness, and continued down the steps and out into the waiting park. He despised feeling helpless, and knew that they could ill afford for that feeling to continue.