Post by Press1269 on Jan 29, 2016 20:13:51 GMT
*****DIRECTLY AFTER BAD BEHAVIOR VI*****
The crowd filtered out of the Pandemonium Theater chattering in enthusiastic excitement, while Press and Youth picked their way through the mass of people. Press could tell that Youth was more than ready to go find Alfred Candy or Henry Huckabee and sign on the dotted line, but he still wasn’t convinced. The show had been pretty good, with all the twists and turns you needed for a small forum like this to keep its faithful congregations coming back for more, but that didn’t excuse the fact that their first Supershow was coming up, and they only had four matches billed for the event. He assumed this was due to the sudden departing of talent, and knew from experience that there had to be a legit reason as to why.
Youth on the other hand saw this as the perfect opportunity for the two of them to break back in. He had overheard some of the marks in the building talking about the pay outs, and although they had made a lot more than that in the bigger companies, twenty-five hundred a piece sounded grand. Especially given the fact that, as of late, they hadn’t had more than a few hundred bucks in their pockets at any given time, and that almost always filtered back into the mission.
He looked up at the unreadable expression on Press’ face, and sighed. “So, what did you think?”
Press shrugged in a non-committed gesture, and replied. “I don’t know, kid. They just had their very first championship match tonight, and a deranged clown who’s watched “The Shining” one too many times won it. Sort of hokey if you ask me.”
“I don’t know, Redrum seemed pretty legit to me.” Youth remarked.
Press cast his partner an incredulous glance, and Youth couldn’t keep the mirth from spilling out. “Alright, alright. Maybe that is a little much, but the Main Event was pretty good, and they had two new introductions tonight, meaning that the place is still growing.”
Press shrugged again, this time more in accession than disagreement. He hadn’t been following the product like his partner had, so he was a little hazy on the details of the Deus character, the big unveiling leaving him at a loss. Yet the crowd seemed to be hooked on it, and despite being small, was larger than the independents they had recently left back in Memphis.
His eye wandered, and he caught the glare from several cameras affixed to light poles and power stations along the way. He pointed up to one of them before making known his observation. “Well what are we going to do about that? One of the guys on the card is a reality TV star, and this Huckabee guy seems to keep the cameras rolling at all times. That creates quite the quandary for us considering our other line of work.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. But here’s the thing….this is supposed to be a carnival. There is all sorts of unbelievable stuff around here. That’s what makes them an attraction. They are all bullshit, but that doesn’t stop people from buying those tickets for admission. We’ll be dealing with something a little more tangible, but people will think it’s a work just like everything else around here.”
“Yeah, it’s all fun and games until some of our monsters decide to go eating the customers.” Press replied, shaking his head. Yet they had come all this way, and he didn’t see any real reason why they shouldn’t at least seek an audience with the powers that be. Maybe Youth was right, if the pay was enough, then they could make things work. “Alright, kid. We’re here now, so we might as well come back in the morning and see if we can’t have a conversation with this Huckabee fellow. Maybe dollar signs will give me a better perspective.”
That was all the confirmation Youth needed to feel the eagerness he had been trying to hold back burst forward. His grin was genuine as he turned to Press, his hands flying in conjecture with his enthusiasm. “Dude, this is going to be awesome. I’m telling you, this is our ticket. When we get in that ring, these other jackasses aren’t going to know what to do with us.”
*****THE NEXT DAY*****
The 66’ Pontiac Tempest pulled up onto a completely different scene of The Greedy Pupil’s Moving Carnival as it had last night. The crews for the respective attractions were hard at work breaking down the carnival and getting everything stowed away for the jaunt south of the border to Mexico. Press and Youth exited the vehicle, and made their way towards the closest person.
He was a dark skinned man, who had obviously seen plenty of the South Western weather over the years, and had equally dark squinty eyes. There were only a few tobacco stained teeth left in his head, but that didn’t stop him from giving the two men a wide grin as they approached. He was already nodding his head before either of them had asked the first question, and a strange chortle for a laugh escaped his lips.
“You two are wrassler’s ain’t youns? I’m guessing you’re here to talk to Huck?”
Press nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as Youth stepped up to lean against the carnie’s truck. He eyed the two for a moment, as if he were trying to size them up, and then nodded his head in approval while continuing his cryptic laughter. It reminded both of the men a little of Yoda, if Yoda had been a hobo and smelled like piss and malt liquor.
“You boys want one of those trailers over there,” The carny told them, indicating a cluster of mobile homes and RV’s with a boney finger. “Huck’s got a sign over the door, but I warn ye, he might not be in the best of moods.”
“Why’s that?” Youth asked, leaning away from the truck.
The carny turned back to his task, but spoke over his shoulder, having done this mundane task so many times that it no longer required his full attention. “One of dem wrasslers of his was arrested last night, and what’s worse, turned out to be a dame.”
Press remembered seeing the authorities at the top of the ramp way taking the one known as Deus into custody. He had assumed the whole thing was a work, but noted that for later analysis.
“What was she charged with?” He asked.
The carny stopped working again, and turned back to the men, leaning forward and drawing them in closer conspiratorially. His breath was hot and smelled like sewage as his eyes scanned the other two men with a dark visage. Then, he whispered, “Murder….” He let the word hang there between the three for a moment, before slapping Youth on the shoulder with a wild chord of laughter. He turned back to his work again, this time not paying the two anymore attention, muttering to himself ‘murder’, and then starting the raucous laughter all over again.
A thin line creased Press’ brow before he looked to Youth, who seemed just as confused as he was. The two men left the carny to his work, and started towards the line of trailers. A row of generators and extension lines ran among the small village on the outskirts of the main carnival, and the two men twined between them on their way up to the thoroughfare. There were signs above most of the trailers, and some of the RV’s even had painted decals of different attractions for whomever lived out of them. When they reached the end of the line, the came to the nicest trailer of the lot, with the words ‘Boss’ scrawled in red paint across a wooden banner set up on poles above the door.
Just as they were about to approach the steps, a stiff voice from behind them rang out. “Hey, what the hell do you two think you’re doing?”
The men turned in unison to spy a short stocky fellow with a bright yellow shirt that had bold black lettering across the chest that said ‘SECURITY’. He was standing at the other end of the row that they were on, and he had his fists upon his hips to go along with his sour expression. Press and Youth exchanged a glance, but didn’t move towards the steps until the security attendant could make his way over there.
He stalked up to the two men with an accusing glare, and his fists never left his hips, as he reiterated his earlier question. “Well, what the hell do you two think you’re doing?”
“We’re here to see Henry Huckabee or Alfred Candy.” Youth explained before Press could tell the security officer to ‘go to hell’. “We’re wrestlers, and we wanted to discuss maybe signing on with Evolution Wrestling.”
The attendant nodded, moving around the two men to stand in front of the steps. “I see. But you have to understand, Mr. Huckabee’s a busy man, and has important matters to attend. The whole carnival will be ready to roll down to Mexico in the next eight hours, and Mr. Huckabee informed me to make sure that no one came around his office until he had everything sorted out.”
“Well,” Press cut in before Youth could be diplomatic. “That doesn’t change the fact that we need to speak to him or Candy.”
The security officer’s face went rigid, and he puffed out his chest with mock authority. Just then, Huckabee’s trailer door swung open startling all the men from their confrontation. When the three of them looked up the steps, Lady Munin occupied the doorway. She coolly observed the scene for a moment, cocked her had to the side as if she were listening to something inside the trailer, and then hastily stepped out onto the landing and shut the door behind her before any of that conversation could escape. The gravity of her expression was one of confidence and poise, and it never once wavered as she moved down to the men’s level.
Her attire was a simple sundress, though the coloring was a bit odd. Pale grey trimmed with a vibrant red that matched her lipstick and shoes. Long black hair fell down her back in a dark waterfall, and her only jewelry was a small antique medallion around her neck.
“You can return to your post Butch, I will speak to these...gentlemen.”
Butch deflated at her words looking nearly sullen at her interference. He wasn't quite ready to give up his chance to “perform his duty” though. “Part of my job is to escort people away.............ma’am.”
His pointedly late honorific brought a slow smile to the exotic woman's face. The smile and her noticeable lack of response to the barb, was somehow more unsettling than a few sharp words. One black nail tipped in red brushed a strand of black hair behind her ear. Her tone when she replied was venomously sweet.
“Unwanted people Butch. These men say they are here to wrestle. That means it's not up to you to decide whether or not they are wanted.”
She gave a slight chuckle, and fixed a dark sharp gaze on Youth and Press . It was a clear dismissal, a slight that the stocky man was just smart enough to pick up on. His face started to color with anger that he was forced to suppress. Munin seemed to secretly (or not so secretly delight in this) her next words nearly turned Butch's face purple.
“Making such judgments is well beneath your pay grade...run along now.”
With a final sullen glare towards the two would be wrestlers, and a large amount of grumbled curse words, the security guard stalked out of sight once more. Munin didn't bother to watch his retreat. She was far more interested in the men before her. Her previous venom all but disappeared from her demeanor, once the security guard was out of sight. Left in its stead was a practiced mask of cool pleasantness.
“Please excuse him, he is honestly nothing more that a playground bully. What brings you gentlemen to the Carnival?”
Press regarded the woman who stood before them, and couldn't decide on whether he should be cautious or aroused. He decided on both. The first thing that he noticed was the slenderness of her frame, the roundness of her shoulders, and how every inch of the oddly colored sundress seemed to accentuate her feminine features. Everything about her, from her hair, nails, and heels screamed 'tailor made'. Yet, the way in which she had handled Butch came with a gravity that didn't quite match the pleasantness she now presented. He had learned long ago not to judge a book by it's cover. Some of his most dangerous opponents had been women, both inside the ring and at life. This one, he could tell, was a force to be reckoned with.
Youth, on the other hand, didn't have the same internal debate as his partner. He had recognized her instantly, having kept up with the big promotions through the years. His eyes sparkled with excitement, as he offered a suave bow to the Lady.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Munin." He came out of his bow, drawing a glance from Press that was the equivalent of a face palm, but didn't let that halt him in the least. "I'm Jason Stephens, or known in better circles as Flaming Youth, and my counterpart here is Preston Jones, a.k.a. Press. Our tag team is 'The BombTrax', and we wanted to see what Evolution Wrestling is offering."
The bow had been ridiculous as far as Press was concerned, and by that action he already knew that his partner was smitten. He hadn't really listened to much of the introduction except for the woman's name. It sounded familiar to him, and he raked his brain to put two and two together. When it struck him, it was like a thunderbolt that lit up his entire face. Before his partner could continue, or the lady could respond, he blurted it out all at once.
"Lady Munin. You're the W.C.E.K. T.V. Champion, and a former GZW2K1 World Heavyweight Champion. You won the Lord of the Colosseum tournament in 2012, where you took the title of Lady. Only the second to ever pull that off, if I recall." The last bit was said quietly, as an after thought, and then the sudden realization that he had said all of that out loud in such a way as to sound like a mark smacked him in the face. Yet the information was accurate, and it automatically brought suspicion to bare.
His eyes narrowed as he regarded Munin, crossing his arms over his chest with a resigned stance. "What would someone of your caliber want in a Podunk shit hole like this?"
Silence fell among the trio. Youth was already shaking his head in dismay as he searched the calculating eyes of Munin, awaiting the previous venom he had heard her use with the security officer return to her tone. Instead of her previously cold stare, however, Munin's dark eyes sparkled with true amusement at the two gentlemen before her.
“Why indeed? I guess you could say that everyone has their reasons…” She tilted her head to the side with a smile that hinted at mischief. “I am flattered that you know who I am, but please call me Munin. I would be happy to show you around the Carnival, and answer any questions you may have.”
She gestured for them to walk in front of her down the walkway. “Please after you. I have a feeling that this humble carnival may suit your needs more than you realize.”
Press stood resolute for a few seconds, but a glance at his partner's pleading expression softened him a bit. He nodded curtly to Munin, before turning to take the lead so that Youth could state their case.
The three of them walked in silence for awhile before coming to a stop at the junction where the trailer village and the carnival butted up against one another. The carnival was bustling with movement in an effort to keep their departing schedule intact. Munin came to a stop between the two men, and Youth turned so that he could speak directly.
"I picked up one of the promotional flyers last week in Las Vegas, and saw at the bottom that there was a request for talent. From what I've seen there's been a lot of comings and goings around here, and we thought that maybe there would be an opening for us. We've got fifteen plus years experience, and trained with Doug Newenski out of Jacksonville. We've been apart of a few nationally televised promotions before, most notably TCWF and SIN Wrestling, but that was a long time ago. Since then we just work the indies, mostly because we can make our own schedule. This being a regional outfit made me think that maybe there would be some opportunity for steady business."
Youth could almost sound like a professional, Press thought, not really feeling the need to add to the pitch. Either there was something, or there wasn't, and he wasn't fully convinced this was what they needed. Lady Munin, for all intents and purposes, was a big shot. The last time he encountered a big shot in one of the small promotions it had been Johnny Storm, and the ramifications of that meeting still haunted him to this day. Her being here was no accident, and he could only think of two reasons that she would be. Either she owed the owner a favor, or she had her own plans, which probably didn't include anything good for the talent of Evolution Wrestling. This business was competitive, and rarely attracted people willing to do anything for free. The BombTrax included. Despite that, he was interested in hearing what the lady had to offer, and was fighting hard to keep his eyes from roaming the contours of her dress.
Munin listened attentively to Youth, her pleasant smile ever present. Her dark eyes ever rested on him while he spoke, though she occasionally glance at his silent companion. It was a shame they hadn't showed up closer to nightfall. While she truly did enjoy the carnival with all its characters and sordid splendor at all times, she preferred dusk and nightfall the most. Youth finally came to a stopping point in his monologue, and paused to look towards her.
“I know who you gentlemen are, and you have a place here if you want it.” She paused to shade her eyes from the glare of the unforgiving sun. “This carnival could use two men with your talents.”
Press couldn’t help but notice that Youth seemed very satisfied by that proposal. It was, after all, direct and to the point. Usually he would have appreciated it himself, but someone had to be paranoid, and he knew that it would have to be him. He regarded the woman for a moment as she continued to peer out over the carnival, her hand still shielding her eyes. It appeared to him that she was looking for something out in the distance, but it was out of focus, just beyond her vision. Youth raised his eyebrows in a silent question that drew his attention, and the big man shrugged in response, not really sure what to think.
“What if we wanted to consider the offer?” Press asked, finally uncrossing his arms, and standing in a more casual way. “See more of the product, review the pay, before signing anything binding. Would that be a problem?"
Munin turned her gaze away from the horizon, and met Press's with a knowing look. They would sign. It was only a matter of time. “More time is not a problem, should you decide to take up the offer your contract will be a standard six months. You may sign them with whatever names you choose.”
She crossed her own arms over her chest and cocked her chin with a teasing smile. It was a perfect miniature imitation of Press. “Is that acceptable?”
Press' eyes narrowed, and he knew without a shadow of doubt that the confusion had been cleared. He was most definitely aroused. What was worse, is now he'd have to go back and share a dingy hotel room with the moron making oogly faces over Munin's shoulder.
"Sounds fine." He said through tight lips before stalking past them in a path towards the car.
Youths smile was genuine as he reached for Munin's hand, and shook it eagerly. "Thanks alot, La.....er...Munin. I'll make sure to get him to Mexico." With that he loosed her hand, and all but galloped after his partner. Munin watched as the men departed, amusement still sparkling in her eyes