Post by Press1269 on Feb 25, 2020 18:48:36 GMT
2/25/2020 [OFF CAMERA]
MUNIN'S HOME
633 12th STREET, SANTA MONICA, CALIFORNIA
The BombTrax left the dining room where their housemates, Munin, Krahe, and Richard, finished off a joint and continued their conversation. (To see the details of that conversation, check out "Family Matters") They headed to Press’s room at the end of the house and upon arriving the big man swiped his thumb across his phone that had been vibrating in his hand.
“What’s up, LoLo?” He greeted.
Youth, even in his ‘high’ state, perked up at the news that their Las Vegas contact was on the other end of the phone. It wasn’t like LoLo to call unless there was a problem, and considering how much trouble they had stirred up in the town it stood to reason there probably was.
A tinkling voice came through the other end of the phone, but it was sprinkled with trepidation.
“I need to cash in that favor.”
Press raised an eyebrow and looked sidelong at Youth, who shrugged.
“Which one?” The younger of the two asked.
“The one where I slipped you info on where to start looking for Loki.” She replied. “I’m holding onto that other favor for later.”
Press sighed heavily, remembering how the woman had helped them when clearing out of Vegas in 2015.
“Sure, LoLo. What do you need?”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and both men could picture the woman’s scrunched up face as she worked out the best way to make her request.
Finally, she cleared her throat, which sounded like a wind chime, and began. “So, there’s trouble brewing in your neck of the woods. There’s a small tribe of pixies that live in Santa Monica. Their leader runs The Basement Tavern on Main Street, a Winter Fey that goes by the name Leandra. She gave me a disturbing call a few nights ago, telling me that her pixies were being picked off by some unseen force. She wanted to know if the same was happening in Vegas or was this an isolated incident. After I put my feelers out, I realized this wasn’t happening everywhere, so I thought, who better to investigate what my be going on down there than you two knuckleheads!”
“Sure, LoLo, we can check it out.” Youth said cheerily, still high.
Press shook his head in his partners direction, and pointed out, “It’s not like we have much of a choice. We owe you.”
“Awww, look at you,” LoLo replied mockingly. “You're all heart. So I already gave Leandra word, she should be expecting you, and by the by…have you two had any experiences with pixies in the past?”
“Can’t say that we have,” answered Press.
Muffled laughter came through the speaker of the phone and the two men shared a glance before LoLo offered a parting trope.
“Well…good luck.”
The phone suddenly went silent and Press sighed before pushing it back into his shirt pocket. He turned to Youth and gave the man a once over before drawing back and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Are you even stable enough to go out tonight?”
“Pshh,” Youth replied, puckering his lips comically and waving off the big man with a dismissive hand. “Are you kidding me? I’m fine. It’s not like that weed we used to get in Louisiana. Now that shit right there would knock you on your ass.”
Youth snored loudly as Press pulled off Main Street and into a parking lot located near The Basement Tavern. There were several cars parked outside the venue and the low hum of jazz music wafted up the stairwell that led below to the establishment. He grumbled in irritation when it took more than one shake to bring Youth awake only to have the man mumble something about, ‘No, Brodie. Not that hole. This one.’, before sitting up to blink at his surroundings.
“Where the hell are we?”
“The Basement Tavern.” Press replied, shaking his head before making to get out of the car.
Youth rubbed his eyes with his fists and then leaped out the vehicle to follow suit. When the two men shuffled down the steps, they came to a large oak door with a peep window that was shut. Youth wrapped on the door three times and after a second the peep window opened to reveal two absurdly large steely eyes peering back at them.
“What’s the password?”
The Redeemer’s looked to one another and then back to the eyes before Press responded. “We don’t have a password. We’re here to see Leandra.”
“Hrmph!” the eyes grunted. “No password, no entry.”
The peep door slammed shut and Youth could feel the big man’s aggravation mounting. Before Press could do or say something that ultimately barred their entry any further, he wrapped on the door three times with one hand while holding the other up towards his partner.
The door opened again, and this time the eyes narrowed to slits.
“What’s the password?”
Youth beamed a smile at the cold eyes before moving so that he was looking right into them.
“Listen, Lelandra’s expecting us. Tell her that LoLo sent us about her problem.”
The peep door promptly slammed shut a second time, so fast that Youth felt the breeze from it wash across his face. Clearing his throat, he turned to look up at Press who looked to be on the verge of making his own entrance. Before he even had the chance to try and stop the big man, however, the sound of a large locking mechanism sounded behind him and the door creaked open.
Standing in the frame was a huge ogre with hunched shoulders. Neither man could tell whether that came naturally, or because if he stood at his full height, he’d bump his head on the ceiling. Either way, he grunted while shuffling to the side and bidding them enter with a wave of his hand.
There was a brief sizing up between Press and the large brute. The Ogre looked to have a few inches on the big man, but definitely out bid him in the girth department. It was like watching two bulls prepared to lock horns over their territory. The stare down between the two lasted long enough that Youth felt it necessary to interject.
“Uh, Press. Door’s open. Let’s get this done.”
The big man shrugged and slid past the giant, who sneered in his direction as he passed. Once inside the music was much louder, and the sweet smells of cigars and liquors filled the small space. There was a three-tier band on a tiny stage on the side of the room closest to the door surrounded by small tables and lounge chairs. At the back of the tavern in a narrow section was the bar along with small coffee tables and plush leather chairs.
They made their way in that direction, not bothering to scan for all the eyes that they could feel upon them. There weren't that many patrons, most of them listening to the music, but of those almost everyone of them was of the supernatural variety. They were wise enough to know without asking or having to be told that the same rules applied here as they did at LoLo's. Everyone is welcome as long as you don't make trouble, including those that hunted down some of the very entities currently in the room. It wouldn't make them popular, but unless someone had a death wish they didn't have to worry about being jumped from behind. The ogre doorman looked as if he would deal with any issues with extreme prejudice.
When they reached the bar they saw a woman that had to be Leandra. She was, by far, the best dressed woman in the room. Her long light blue hair was wound into a tight bun that sat nestled on the top of her head, with two tendrils hanging down to frame her angular face. Her eyes were almond shaped like Lolo's, but were as blue as a clear sky and they popped against her porcelain white skin. She wore a low cut strapless dark purple dress that hugged her lithe frame, ample bosom nearly spilling out. If they were honest, she looked more like a comic book heroine than a person, and the few customers around the bar seem enamored by her charm.
Press heaved himself into one of the flat backed seats while Youth remained standing, resting his elbows on the bar. She never took her eyes off the customer in front of her until his drink was poured, a sweet smile flashed his way when he produced a twenty for what had to be a five dollar drink. Her tinkling laugh reminded them of Lolo as she moved away, finally breaking eye contact and turning her attention to the new arrivals.
Upon seeing them, she frowned slightly and lines creased the corners of her mouth as if it was an expression she didn't use very often. She glided over to them rather quickly, leaning across the bar conspiratorially.
"Thank you for coming. If you step over to the corner table I'll join you in a moment with refreshments."
She smelled like a mixture of fresh snow and wood smoke with a tinge of cranberry. It was intoxicating and left Press and Youth both bobbing their heads dumbly in her direction. Leandra gave them both a measured look before turning away to turn her attention to the rest of the bar.
The two men stepped over to the spot she had indicated and took a seat in the comfortable chairs. A moment later she slid into one across from them, sliding a tray with fresh cheeses, fruits, and a bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label sitting on it's surface. She poured the three of them a glass and pulled a grape free of the stem before leaning back in her seat and crossing her legs. The boys looked mesmerized by the action, and she rolled her eyes before popping the grape into her mouth.
"So what all did LoLo tell you?" she asked in a soft voice.
"She said that you had a pixie problem." Press replied.
"More like a predator problem. Something, or someone, is picking off my tribe. This can't stand. Things are already tumultuous enough around here as it is."
Youth leaned in, eyebrows raised. "What do you mean by that?"
Leandra looked from side to side to ensure that no one was eavesdropping, and then leaned in closer to explain. "My leadership was challenged recently by another pixie. In our world, anyone can bring a challenge, but there are consequences for both success and failure. She failed, and as is our custom, was banished from the tribe. It unsettled many of our residents. Thok over there hasn't really gotten over it." She said the last by nodding her head in the direction of the ogre they had met at the door.
Youth's eyes went wide and he looked genuinely shocked. "That's a freaking pixie?! He's huge!"
She regarded him with a bemused expression. "We fey come in all shapes and sizes."
Youth stared now at the ogre, but still had a doubtful expression on his face when he turned back to Leandra. "I don't know, that just seems...wrong."
Press dismissed his partner by chiming in before he could follow that thought any further. "Nevermind that. This case seems pretty cut and dry. Your culprit is obviously this usurper of yours."
Leandra was shaking her head 'no' before the big man could even finish his sentence. "No. Trea wouldn't do that. There has to be something else at work here."
Press gave Leandra an incredulous expression. "You sure? I mean, if you kicked me out of the tribe I'd probably be a little pissed."
Leandra sat back in her seat in thought, twirling one of her tendrils around her finger. "I...I just can't believe that. Trea would be angry, sure, but that's a far cry from killing her own. I know her."
Both men perked up at that, eyebrows raising. Youth was the one who asked the question both of them were thinking. "How well do you know her?"
Leandra regarded the two men coldly for the implication in Youth's voice, but then sighed letting her hands fall folded to her lap. "She and I were lovers."
Press shook his head, not understanding. "And she challenged your leadership? What the hell?"
Leandra looked away from them before offering, "You wouldn't understand."
Press ignored the woman's obvious discomfort, instead starting to count off on his hand his inner thoughts. "We have motive; betrayal, exile, disassociation. Am I missing something?"
"Jilted lover." Youth adds, drawing a baleful scowl from Leandra.
"You don't know what you're talking about." She spits, seething.
Press's eyes suddenly narrow and his voice goes low and dark. "You're still seeing her."
Leandra doesn't reply, instead looking away from them again with her scowl still in place.
Youth whistles while falling back into his seat. "Well, that sounds complicated."
The Winter Fey shifts in her seat uncomfortably and bitterly barks her reply. "That isn't why you're here. Can you do something about my people being murdered or not?"
"Hopefully, but we could use some information first. Names, dates, locations. It's a big city, after all."
She nods curtly, still miffed at her personal business being aired to the likes of them. "I have a file already prepared with the details. You can pick it up from Thok on the way out."
Her tone is final as she continues to stare at the wall beside them rather than turning her gaze upon them. Seeing that there isn't anything more forthcoming, the two men rise and make their exit to retrieve their file. The ogre watches them the entire way on their approach, and they feel that he never truly had them out of his line of site the entire time they were here. They understood. Their reputation preceded them.
"Leandra said you had a package for us." Press said flatly.
The doorman breathed heavily as he stepped over to the podium that served as his station and pulled a manilla folder crammed with papers from behind it. He handed the documents over to Press, who grunted while snatching them up and then heading for the door.
"Watch yourselves out there, Redeemers." said the ogre to their backs as they exited, and they never got the opportunity to respond before the door slammed shut in their faces.
The scene opens to a shot of a beautiful blue sky and the sound of children laughing. As the camera pans down it frames the perfect picture of Douglas Park located in North Santa Monica. There are kids swarming at the ample playground, a family enjoying one of the public grills by the picnic tables, and a couple leaning against the railing of a bridge to enjoy the ducks in the pond below.
Sitting on one of the picnic tables closes to the courts is The BombTrax watching a rigorous game of three on three basketball between some college students. Press is wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, while Youth has on Bermuda shorts, a tank top, and shades pushed back to keep his long hair out of his face. The game is fast paced, the energies of the young men apparent as they doggedly fight to dominate the other. One of the men catches a pass, and almost as quickly as he takes possession of the ball, drives the lane and delivers a lay up. The opposing team all whine as he hustles over to high five his teammates.
Press turns to Youth with his hand outstretched, and the younger of the two sighs before digging into his pocket and slapping a five dollar bill into the big man's hand.
"Between you and Nin's fucking swear jar I'm going to go broke!" Youth cries, spinning around so that he's now facing the camera.
Press follows suit, putting his feet up on the long board that normally serves as a seat and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks into the camera while Youth continues to pout.
"Focus kid, we've got business. I guess this is the part where we're supposed to talk about everything that happened last show, but what's the point. I'm pretty sure how everything ended up has been our mission statement from day one, but now we have a few more players involved. If you're wondering what Jason Dave did to earn those shots he took, let me just tell you...anyone that openly claims to be pals with Brianna Rissi has signed their own death warrant. She signed hers after our match at New Year, Who Dis? 2 when she and her idiot partner, Astrid, decided to finally stand up for themselves and fight back."
Press waves a dismissive hand in front of him before continuing.
"And don't get me wrong either. That's what we want ladies. We want you and all the other asshats on this roster to step up to the plate. We want you to fight back. We've said all along that this wasn't just business, that we would make it personal. We aren't just here to shake up the roster, we're here to take the roster out! We're here for your titles. We're here for your paychecks. We're here to take everything that is IPW and turn it upside down, leaving only the strongest among you standing over the carcass."
Youth shrugs while adding, "It's kill or be killed, folks."
Press nods.
"Just look at what we've managed to accomplish in just three short months. Half your roster has been dumped on their heads. We've taken possession of your Tag Team Titles with no real objections other than from The Queen Bee's, and you saw what happened there. We've proven that we're better officials than your IPW referees, that we're better commentators than those fucking stooges, and to top it all off...your IPW Heavyweight Champion has gone MIA rather than crawl out from under the rock he's been hiding under to have to face us one more fucking time."
Youth snickers, and then leans forward to say his piece.
"And the only reason we're even bringing this up is that it's relevant to what's happening today. I see you people reference your time and relationships from nearly four damn years ago. Talk about championships that you held way back when. I don't think you people understand that this is the wrestling business. You are only as good as your next match. Every win and loss before is irrelevant. It's 2020, and all you people can talk about is what you did when you were in EHWF. The only part of it that I do understand is that apparently that was your glory days and after accomplishing all of that and having to come to an outlaw mudshow like this, fuck...I guess I'd be nostalgic too."
Youth shakes his head at the absurdity.
"Well that was then, kids, and this is today. And today, The BombTrax are doing what The BombTrax do best. Put asses in seats, and our fellow "superstars" (he uses air quotes) on their asses! And make no mistake, on March 10th there won't be any deviation. Scott Wilson, Jason Dave, and Astrid Samson are going to drop like Brianna Rissi does for anyone who pays her the slightest bit of attention!"
Press lets out a barking laugh before picking up where Youth left off.
"Speaking of Astrid, what is Tapioca thinking booking her in this match? Hasn't she been through enough without adding insult to injury? I mean, she claims to be The Iconic Queen in one breath, and then IPW's Punching Bag in the other. Don't believe me? Look up her past promos on YouTube! All she manages to do in every single one is talk about how tough she is, followed by bitching and complaining about how everyone attacks her. Maybe...just maybe that keeps happening because you don't have sense enough to shut the fuck up! Maybe when we attacked you that would have been enough, but then you went and ran your mouth about Munin being a coward, and what did that get you?"
Youth leans forward and beams a grin at the camera.
"Maybe we should start calling her sparky!"
Press smirks, shaking his head.
"Don't give her any ideas. She's liable to market it and put it on a T-shirt. But the fun doesn't stop there, oh no, there's ole Scott Wilson. Scott, you've seen what we do. You've seen what we've done to your friends, and your friends of friends. There you were, free and clear of us, not even on our radar. Then, like the big hero you are, you came down for the save with Oliver Black. You literally put yourself into the cross-hairs, and now you're in this. Now you're susceptible to the same maiming as the rest of your lot. Well...so be it. We'll take on all comers, and we'll take all those heroics and tear them down so you have nothing left. Not your dignity. Not your respect. Not your honor."
Press sneers the last, staring coldly at the camera.
"You know what history calls a group of people who courageously stood in the face of a greater threat and failed?"
"Losers?" Youth asks with a shrug.
"Exactly! For all that courage you and Jason Dave display every week, all it's bought you is a one way ticket to retirement. Cause when you face us, you aren't facing show offs and high spot artists. The crowd doesn't pop cause we're so smooth and seamless in the ring. They pop cause we just broke a god damn fellow human being in half!"
"Jeez. We're not that bad, are we?" Youth asks doubtfully.
"Remember Cross Recoba?"
"Oh...yeah." Youth responds, deadpan. "We did kind of break his back, so I guess that's in half."
"Remember Calvin Harris?"
Youth laughs so hard he snorts a little bit. "Ha...that guy...what a moron."
"Remember Mike Mason?"
"I mean...he only disappeared a few weeks ago, but I'm starting to get your point. Man, we may need to start a help group for people we've destroyed or something."
Press chuckles and nods.
"After this next Chaos, Jason Dave, Scott Wilson, and Astrid Samson will have seats right up front alongside Brianna Rissi and anyone else who gets in our fucking way."
Youth casts a sidelong glance at his partner.
"You know, we really are dicks."
Press snorts, pushing up off the picnic table and starts to walk off camera. He speaks over his shoulder as he passes, "They certainly don't pay us to be nice."
Youth shakes his head sadly and pushes up as well. Finally he shrugs, and gives a wink to the camera. "'The BombTrax Brutalized Us' help group brought to you by IPW Chaos. There'll be free donuts and coffee in the concession area, and if we put you through an announce table you'll receive...I don't know...a survivors chip or something."
Youth places his hand on his chin for a moment as if deep in thought, and as he makes his way off camera he can be heard mumbling, "I wonder if that would be covered under our insurance..."
Fade to black.
“What’s up, LoLo?” He greeted.
Youth, even in his ‘high’ state, perked up at the news that their Las Vegas contact was on the other end of the phone. It wasn’t like LoLo to call unless there was a problem, and considering how much trouble they had stirred up in the town it stood to reason there probably was.
A tinkling voice came through the other end of the phone, but it was sprinkled with trepidation.
“I need to cash in that favor.”
Press raised an eyebrow and looked sidelong at Youth, who shrugged.
“Which one?” The younger of the two asked.
“The one where I slipped you info on where to start looking for Loki.” She replied. “I’m holding onto that other favor for later.”
Press sighed heavily, remembering how the woman had helped them when clearing out of Vegas in 2015.
“Sure, LoLo. What do you need?”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and both men could picture the woman’s scrunched up face as she worked out the best way to make her request.
Finally, she cleared her throat, which sounded like a wind chime, and began. “So, there’s trouble brewing in your neck of the woods. There’s a small tribe of pixies that live in Santa Monica. Their leader runs The Basement Tavern on Main Street, a Winter Fey that goes by the name Leandra. She gave me a disturbing call a few nights ago, telling me that her pixies were being picked off by some unseen force. She wanted to know if the same was happening in Vegas or was this an isolated incident. After I put my feelers out, I realized this wasn’t happening everywhere, so I thought, who better to investigate what my be going on down there than you two knuckleheads!”
“Sure, LoLo, we can check it out.” Youth said cheerily, still high.
Press shook his head in his partners direction, and pointed out, “It’s not like we have much of a choice. We owe you.”
“Awww, look at you,” LoLo replied mockingly. “You're all heart. So I already gave Leandra word, she should be expecting you, and by the by…have you two had any experiences with pixies in the past?”
“Can’t say that we have,” answered Press.
Muffled laughter came through the speaker of the phone and the two men shared a glance before LoLo offered a parting trope.
“Well…good luck.”
The phone suddenly went silent and Press sighed before pushing it back into his shirt pocket. He turned to Youth and gave the man a once over before drawing back and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Are you even stable enough to go out tonight?”
“Pshh,” Youth replied, puckering his lips comically and waving off the big man with a dismissive hand. “Are you kidding me? I’m fine. It’s not like that weed we used to get in Louisiana. Now that shit right there would knock you on your ass.”
*****MOMENTS LATER*****
“Where the hell are we?”
“The Basement Tavern.” Press replied, shaking his head before making to get out of the car.
Youth rubbed his eyes with his fists and then leaped out the vehicle to follow suit. When the two men shuffled down the steps, they came to a large oak door with a peep window that was shut. Youth wrapped on the door three times and after a second the peep window opened to reveal two absurdly large steely eyes peering back at them.
“What’s the password?”
The Redeemer’s looked to one another and then back to the eyes before Press responded. “We don’t have a password. We’re here to see Leandra.”
“Hrmph!” the eyes grunted. “No password, no entry.”
The peep door slammed shut and Youth could feel the big man’s aggravation mounting. Before Press could do or say something that ultimately barred their entry any further, he wrapped on the door three times with one hand while holding the other up towards his partner.
The door opened again, and this time the eyes narrowed to slits.
“What’s the password?”
Youth beamed a smile at the cold eyes before moving so that he was looking right into them.
“Listen, Lelandra’s expecting us. Tell her that LoLo sent us about her problem.”
The peep door promptly slammed shut a second time, so fast that Youth felt the breeze from it wash across his face. Clearing his throat, he turned to look up at Press who looked to be on the verge of making his own entrance. Before he even had the chance to try and stop the big man, however, the sound of a large locking mechanism sounded behind him and the door creaked open.
Standing in the frame was a huge ogre with hunched shoulders. Neither man could tell whether that came naturally, or because if he stood at his full height, he’d bump his head on the ceiling. Either way, he grunted while shuffling to the side and bidding them enter with a wave of his hand.
There was a brief sizing up between Press and the large brute. The Ogre looked to have a few inches on the big man, but definitely out bid him in the girth department. It was like watching two bulls prepared to lock horns over their territory. The stare down between the two lasted long enough that Youth felt it necessary to interject.
“Uh, Press. Door’s open. Let’s get this done.”
The big man shrugged and slid past the giant, who sneered in his direction as he passed. Once inside the music was much louder, and the sweet smells of cigars and liquors filled the small space. There was a three-tier band on a tiny stage on the side of the room closest to the door surrounded by small tables and lounge chairs. At the back of the tavern in a narrow section was the bar along with small coffee tables and plush leather chairs.
They made their way in that direction, not bothering to scan for all the eyes that they could feel upon them. There weren't that many patrons, most of them listening to the music, but of those almost everyone of them was of the supernatural variety. They were wise enough to know without asking or having to be told that the same rules applied here as they did at LoLo's. Everyone is welcome as long as you don't make trouble, including those that hunted down some of the very entities currently in the room. It wouldn't make them popular, but unless someone had a death wish they didn't have to worry about being jumped from behind. The ogre doorman looked as if he would deal with any issues with extreme prejudice.
When they reached the bar they saw a woman that had to be Leandra. She was, by far, the best dressed woman in the room. Her long light blue hair was wound into a tight bun that sat nestled on the top of her head, with two tendrils hanging down to frame her angular face. Her eyes were almond shaped like Lolo's, but were as blue as a clear sky and they popped against her porcelain white skin. She wore a low cut strapless dark purple dress that hugged her lithe frame, ample bosom nearly spilling out. If they were honest, she looked more like a comic book heroine than a person, and the few customers around the bar seem enamored by her charm.
Press heaved himself into one of the flat backed seats while Youth remained standing, resting his elbows on the bar. She never took her eyes off the customer in front of her until his drink was poured, a sweet smile flashed his way when he produced a twenty for what had to be a five dollar drink. Her tinkling laugh reminded them of Lolo as she moved away, finally breaking eye contact and turning her attention to the new arrivals.
Upon seeing them, she frowned slightly and lines creased the corners of her mouth as if it was an expression she didn't use very often. She glided over to them rather quickly, leaning across the bar conspiratorially.
"Thank you for coming. If you step over to the corner table I'll join you in a moment with refreshments."
She smelled like a mixture of fresh snow and wood smoke with a tinge of cranberry. It was intoxicating and left Press and Youth both bobbing their heads dumbly in her direction. Leandra gave them both a measured look before turning away to turn her attention to the rest of the bar.
The two men stepped over to the spot she had indicated and took a seat in the comfortable chairs. A moment later she slid into one across from them, sliding a tray with fresh cheeses, fruits, and a bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label sitting on it's surface. She poured the three of them a glass and pulled a grape free of the stem before leaning back in her seat and crossing her legs. The boys looked mesmerized by the action, and she rolled her eyes before popping the grape into her mouth.
"So what all did LoLo tell you?" she asked in a soft voice.
"She said that you had a pixie problem." Press replied.
"More like a predator problem. Something, or someone, is picking off my tribe. This can't stand. Things are already tumultuous enough around here as it is."
Youth leaned in, eyebrows raised. "What do you mean by that?"
Leandra looked from side to side to ensure that no one was eavesdropping, and then leaned in closer to explain. "My leadership was challenged recently by another pixie. In our world, anyone can bring a challenge, but there are consequences for both success and failure. She failed, and as is our custom, was banished from the tribe. It unsettled many of our residents. Thok over there hasn't really gotten over it." She said the last by nodding her head in the direction of the ogre they had met at the door.
Youth's eyes went wide and he looked genuinely shocked. "That's a freaking pixie?! He's huge!"
She regarded him with a bemused expression. "We fey come in all shapes and sizes."
Youth stared now at the ogre, but still had a doubtful expression on his face when he turned back to Leandra. "I don't know, that just seems...wrong."
Press dismissed his partner by chiming in before he could follow that thought any further. "Nevermind that. This case seems pretty cut and dry. Your culprit is obviously this usurper of yours."
Leandra was shaking her head 'no' before the big man could even finish his sentence. "No. Trea wouldn't do that. There has to be something else at work here."
Press gave Leandra an incredulous expression. "You sure? I mean, if you kicked me out of the tribe I'd probably be a little pissed."
Leandra sat back in her seat in thought, twirling one of her tendrils around her finger. "I...I just can't believe that. Trea would be angry, sure, but that's a far cry from killing her own. I know her."
Both men perked up at that, eyebrows raising. Youth was the one who asked the question both of them were thinking. "How well do you know her?"
Leandra regarded the two men coldly for the implication in Youth's voice, but then sighed letting her hands fall folded to her lap. "She and I were lovers."
Press shook his head, not understanding. "And she challenged your leadership? What the hell?"
Leandra looked away from them before offering, "You wouldn't understand."
Press ignored the woman's obvious discomfort, instead starting to count off on his hand his inner thoughts. "We have motive; betrayal, exile, disassociation. Am I missing something?"
"Jilted lover." Youth adds, drawing a baleful scowl from Leandra.
"You don't know what you're talking about." She spits, seething.
Press's eyes suddenly narrow and his voice goes low and dark. "You're still seeing her."
Leandra doesn't reply, instead looking away from them again with her scowl still in place.
Youth whistles while falling back into his seat. "Well, that sounds complicated."
The Winter Fey shifts in her seat uncomfortably and bitterly barks her reply. "That isn't why you're here. Can you do something about my people being murdered or not?"
"Hopefully, but we could use some information first. Names, dates, locations. It's a big city, after all."
She nods curtly, still miffed at her personal business being aired to the likes of them. "I have a file already prepared with the details. You can pick it up from Thok on the way out."
Her tone is final as she continues to stare at the wall beside them rather than turning her gaze upon them. Seeing that there isn't anything more forthcoming, the two men rise and make their exit to retrieve their file. The ogre watches them the entire way on their approach, and they feel that he never truly had them out of his line of site the entire time they were here. They understood. Their reputation preceded them.
"Leandra said you had a package for us." Press said flatly.
The doorman breathed heavily as he stepped over to the podium that served as his station and pulled a manilla folder crammed with papers from behind it. He handed the documents over to Press, who grunted while snatching them up and then heading for the door.
"Watch yourselves out there, Redeemers." said the ogre to their backs as they exited, and they never got the opportunity to respond before the door slammed shut in their faces.
2/29/2020 [ON CAMERA]
DOUGLAS PARK
2439 WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, SANTA MONICA, CALIFORNIA
The scene opens to a shot of a beautiful blue sky and the sound of children laughing. As the camera pans down it frames the perfect picture of Douglas Park located in North Santa Monica. There are kids swarming at the ample playground, a family enjoying one of the public grills by the picnic tables, and a couple leaning against the railing of a bridge to enjoy the ducks in the pond below.
Sitting on one of the picnic tables closes to the courts is The BombTrax watching a rigorous game of three on three basketball between some college students. Press is wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, while Youth has on Bermuda shorts, a tank top, and shades pushed back to keep his long hair out of his face. The game is fast paced, the energies of the young men apparent as they doggedly fight to dominate the other. One of the men catches a pass, and almost as quickly as he takes possession of the ball, drives the lane and delivers a lay up. The opposing team all whine as he hustles over to high five his teammates.
Press turns to Youth with his hand outstretched, and the younger of the two sighs before digging into his pocket and slapping a five dollar bill into the big man's hand.
"Between you and Nin's fucking swear jar I'm going to go broke!" Youth cries, spinning around so that he's now facing the camera.
Press follows suit, putting his feet up on the long board that normally serves as a seat and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks into the camera while Youth continues to pout.
"Focus kid, we've got business. I guess this is the part where we're supposed to talk about everything that happened last show, but what's the point. I'm pretty sure how everything ended up has been our mission statement from day one, but now we have a few more players involved. If you're wondering what Jason Dave did to earn those shots he took, let me just tell you...anyone that openly claims to be pals with Brianna Rissi has signed their own death warrant. She signed hers after our match at New Year, Who Dis? 2 when she and her idiot partner, Astrid, decided to finally stand up for themselves and fight back."
Press waves a dismissive hand in front of him before continuing.
"And don't get me wrong either. That's what we want ladies. We want you and all the other asshats on this roster to step up to the plate. We want you to fight back. We've said all along that this wasn't just business, that we would make it personal. We aren't just here to shake up the roster, we're here to take the roster out! We're here for your titles. We're here for your paychecks. We're here to take everything that is IPW and turn it upside down, leaving only the strongest among you standing over the carcass."
Youth shrugs while adding, "It's kill or be killed, folks."
Press nods.
"Just look at what we've managed to accomplish in just three short months. Half your roster has been dumped on their heads. We've taken possession of your Tag Team Titles with no real objections other than from The Queen Bee's, and you saw what happened there. We've proven that we're better officials than your IPW referees, that we're better commentators than those fucking stooges, and to top it all off...your IPW Heavyweight Champion has gone MIA rather than crawl out from under the rock he's been hiding under to have to face us one more fucking time."
Youth snickers, and then leans forward to say his piece.
"And the only reason we're even bringing this up is that it's relevant to what's happening today. I see you people reference your time and relationships from nearly four damn years ago. Talk about championships that you held way back when. I don't think you people understand that this is the wrestling business. You are only as good as your next match. Every win and loss before is irrelevant. It's 2020, and all you people can talk about is what you did when you were in EHWF. The only part of it that I do understand is that apparently that was your glory days and after accomplishing all of that and having to come to an outlaw mudshow like this, fuck...I guess I'd be nostalgic too."
Youth shakes his head at the absurdity.
"Well that was then, kids, and this is today. And today, The BombTrax are doing what The BombTrax do best. Put asses in seats, and our fellow "superstars" (he uses air quotes) on their asses! And make no mistake, on March 10th there won't be any deviation. Scott Wilson, Jason Dave, and Astrid Samson are going to drop like Brianna Rissi does for anyone who pays her the slightest bit of attention!"
Press lets out a barking laugh before picking up where Youth left off.
"Speaking of Astrid, what is Tapioca thinking booking her in this match? Hasn't she been through enough without adding insult to injury? I mean, she claims to be The Iconic Queen in one breath, and then IPW's Punching Bag in the other. Don't believe me? Look up her past promos on YouTube! All she manages to do in every single one is talk about how tough she is, followed by bitching and complaining about how everyone attacks her. Maybe...just maybe that keeps happening because you don't have sense enough to shut the fuck up! Maybe when we attacked you that would have been enough, but then you went and ran your mouth about Munin being a coward, and what did that get you?"
Youth leans forward and beams a grin at the camera.
"Maybe we should start calling her sparky!"
Press smirks, shaking his head.
"Don't give her any ideas. She's liable to market it and put it on a T-shirt. But the fun doesn't stop there, oh no, there's ole Scott Wilson. Scott, you've seen what we do. You've seen what we've done to your friends, and your friends of friends. There you were, free and clear of us, not even on our radar. Then, like the big hero you are, you came down for the save with Oliver Black. You literally put yourself into the cross-hairs, and now you're in this. Now you're susceptible to the same maiming as the rest of your lot. Well...so be it. We'll take on all comers, and we'll take all those heroics and tear them down so you have nothing left. Not your dignity. Not your respect. Not your honor."
Press sneers the last, staring coldly at the camera.
"You know what history calls a group of people who courageously stood in the face of a greater threat and failed?"
"Losers?" Youth asks with a shrug.
"Exactly! For all that courage you and Jason Dave display every week, all it's bought you is a one way ticket to retirement. Cause when you face us, you aren't facing show offs and high spot artists. The crowd doesn't pop cause we're so smooth and seamless in the ring. They pop cause we just broke a god damn fellow human being in half!"
"Jeez. We're not that bad, are we?" Youth asks doubtfully.
"Remember Cross Recoba?"
"Oh...yeah." Youth responds, deadpan. "We did kind of break his back, so I guess that's in half."
"Remember Calvin Harris?"
Youth laughs so hard he snorts a little bit. "Ha...that guy...what a moron."
"Remember Mike Mason?"
"I mean...he only disappeared a few weeks ago, but I'm starting to get your point. Man, we may need to start a help group for people we've destroyed or something."
Press chuckles and nods.
"After this next Chaos, Jason Dave, Scott Wilson, and Astrid Samson will have seats right up front alongside Brianna Rissi and anyone else who gets in our fucking way."
Youth casts a sidelong glance at his partner.
"You know, we really are dicks."
Press snorts, pushing up off the picnic table and starts to walk off camera. He speaks over his shoulder as he passes, "They certainly don't pay us to be nice."
Youth shakes his head sadly and pushes up as well. Finally he shrugs, and gives a wink to the camera. "'The BombTrax Brutalized Us' help group brought to you by IPW Chaos. There'll be free donuts and coffee in the concession area, and if we put you through an announce table you'll receive...I don't know...a survivors chip or something."
Youth places his hand on his chin for a moment as if deep in thought, and as he makes his way off camera he can be heard mumbling, "I wonder if that would be covered under our insurance..."
Fade to black.
