Knightfall - John's Scheme

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Knightfall
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Joined: Sat Dec 01, 2018 10:01 pm

Knightfall - John's Scheme

Post by Knightfall » Wed Sep 18, 2019 1:42 pm

((OOC Note: This is all backstory for a previous angle with Knightfall. All characters appear with permission and approval. Enjoy!))

I do my best to put on this dark, growly façade. I'm the stoic one, humourless, dour. I'm the contained one, concealed violence ready to go at a moment's notice. I'm the second in command of the Minions.

Quite a lot of that is exaggerated bollocks. A convenient mask to wear when it suits me.

What I am is a man who loves his family, as unconventional as they may be.

Of all the unlikely friendships that I've had in my life, I think my one with Mikaela Street has to be one of the top ones. I started off as a bodyguard and mentor, while she still looked up to Lindsay. Then I took to the wrestling ring, and she was busy with her own life.

But we still kept in touch. Emails, texts and sometimes meeting up for coffee. On the down low, though. We're not ashamed of our friendship, but it saves a hell of a lot of awkward conversations.

This long distance friendship has been going on for years now, and I wouldn't need both hands to count the number of times that we've seen each other. But now, for once, Mikaela and me, we're in the same city. With Gwen in Emerge, and Mikaela's sister in SCW, our paths might actually cross.

Or rather, it's not hard to arrange our paths to cross, on the rare days when Mikaela is up. Of course, this would be the day where Chris is being more of a headache than usual. He's bouncy, chirpy, irreverent and joking. Sounds like Chris, right?

Wrong.

I know my brother. He's trying so so hard to pretend that he's happy, that he doesn't have a care in the world. He thinks that he's fooling everyone.

Not me.

It's the thinnest of veneers over a broken surface, and my brother spends far too much time in his own head. GCW isn't helping him with that.

So I'm on my way to meet with Mikaela, or rather, surprise her, and my brain keeps flicking back to Chris, and wondering what I'm going to do about him, as he can't go on like this.

And I can't conjure up a windmill to tilt at. He always does better when he's got a nemesis to snark at.

I stop dead in the middle of the corridor that I'm walking down. Could it be that easy?

How hard could it be to conjure a nemesis?

As Mikaela rounds the corner just ahead of my, chatting on her phone, I shed my brooding facade like a skin, feeling the broad grin breaking out over my face. Gwen is my blood daughter and I love her with all that I am, but Mikaela is the daughter of my heart. She's doing so well (just don't get me started on her relationships. She shouldn't be dating till she's at least thirty-five), and I'm proud of her. Haven't told her this in any detail, don't want to frighten her, but I hope she knows a little of how I feel.

She's engrossed in her conversation, watching where she's walking, staring at the floor. As she draws level with me, she spots my boots, and casually glances up, skimming over me, before she does a double take at my face.

“I'll catch you later,” she tells whoever is on the phone, “Just found someone I need to talk to,” and she hangs up, slipping her phone into her pocket.

“Hello, Shadowkitten,” and I can't hide the affection in my voice, before offering her the cup in my hand. “Coffee?”

She laughs, as bright as a bell, and takes the cup, breathing in the steam.

“Bribery, Jack?” She asks.

“As ol’ Jack always says, never greet a friend with empty hands,” and I slip into the drawling accent without even thinking about it, drawing another laugh from her.

We adjourn to more comfortable surroundings in the nearest coffee shop. Bit more privacy, certainly. We chat as if we only saw each other yesterday, falling into the comfortable routine of banter, bickering and pleasantries. We catch up on our respective wrestling promotions, gossip about our families, digress into a discussion over the most recent films, and then pause for breath.

I had thought that I was hiding the workings of my brain well enough, but something must have slipped through, as Mikaela is studying my face.

“You’re really not here, are you?” she asks bluntly.

“Just got a lot on my mind, Shadowkitten,” I admit.

She props her elbows on the table, and rests her chin on her hands. “I’m a good listener.”

“That, I know. Sure you want to listen to my problems?” I give her an out if she wants to take it.

“Always, Jack.”

Guess not. “Chris,” and I settle for a one word answer.

“Did he put frogs in your bed again?”

I shake my head. “Frogs I can deal with. No, he’s...I don’t even know how to explain it. He looks like Chris, he acts like Chris, but he’s not. He’s trying too hard to be himself, he’s...”

Now that I come to say it to someone, it’s hard to find the right words to actually describe what I’m seeing.

“So why is it your job to fix him?” she asks perceptively.

Now, this is usually the point where I’d growl out something about being brothers, or something about our tag team, or something else equally inane. But this is Mikaela, and I’m always honest with her.

“Because I love him,” I tell her simply. “I can’t stand to watch him self destructing as he tries to be whoever he thinks we all want him to be.”

Mikaela taps her fingers against her jaw, looking thoughtful.

“He’s spending too much time in his own head, and that can’t be a good place to be. Just trying to work out how to get him outside his own head.”

“Come up with anything?”

“Maybe,” I hesitate. But if anyone can spoke flaws in this very hastily thrown together plan, then it would be Shadowkitten. “He’s always done best when he’s got someone to kick back again. One to one. Remember Darko back in the UWA? Or when he was going up against Skyy? He laughed, he joked, but he focused. He was happy.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Mikaela grins. “Go on.”

“So I wondered, if no one in GCW is going to be convenient and step forward to present themselves as a threat, could I manufacture one? And that’s where my plan falls on its head, because anyone I know that I could recruit, Chris knows, and would recognize. And I can’t trust just anyone. I want there to be an illusion of menace, just enough to jolt him. Any actual harm can come to me, to sell it, like.”

Mikaela falls silent as she sips at her coffee, and her eyes are inscrutable as she thinks. I lean back in my seat and wait for her to render judgement. When she lowers the cup, her smile is secretive. “Mikaela Knows Best,” she declares cockily. “And saves the day. Listen and learn, Jack.”

I lean over the table towards her, pasting an over exaggerated expression of interest on my face.

“You can’t get any of your family to play pretend, and you don’t trust just anyone to attack your brother. So trust me instead. Langley Lohan. Currently training at the Thunderdome under Tony Todd. She's your lady. Chris won’t have the faintest clue who she is, she’s a good person, and I can’t see that she’d have any problems helping you out, especially if you make it plain that you’d owe her for her help.”

“You know her?”

Mikaela shrugs with a cheeky grin. “Don’t you know, Jack, I know everyone. There, problem solved.”

I know that she knows that the problem isn’t solved, but she has given me another route to look into. I raise my own cup to her in a toast. “Mikaela knows best.”

###

Just because I’ve got a potential name, it doesn’t mean that I’m going to run off all exuberant like. No, I need to do my homework on this Langley Lohan, and that means just one thing.

Tracking down Cindy Todd.

I could just turn up at the Thunderdome, but Tony Todd would probably try to throw me out on my ear. I’ve heard that he’s quite protective of his students. At least Cindy might give me a way in. And Cindy knows me from way back, even if I was playing at being a Minion back then.

Lindsay sends me to Las Vegas on a spurious errand. She doesn’t know why I want to go to Sin City, and she doesn’t ask, manufacturing the pretext on her trust alone. I travel alone, flying into the city on an afternoon flight, already booked to fly back on a red eye flight in a few hours. Sleep can wait.

I already have the address for the club queued up, and the taxi driver asks no questions, and he wouldn’t get any answers. I’m already sinking into the mindset that I need to have for this conversation. For all that Cindy knows Lindsay, perhaps even considers her a friend, she is a woman that you can’t show weakness to.

I almost feel like I’m walking into a warzone as I pass through the doors of the club, feeling the scars around my eye burning with phantom remembrance. I clock the bodyguards at the door, and the security scattered unobtrusively around the floor, watching the patrons. Most of them are already lost in their lusts and their sins, and pay me no heed. The few that do notice me turn their gaze away when their eyes meet my eye.

There is a discreet wooden door towards the back of the club, and to give them their credit, two of the security guards in the crowd pinpoint my destination fairly quickly. They move into position, close enough to intercept if I prove troublesome, but not close enough that any normal clubgoer would be able to spot them for what they are.

The man on guard at the door is more wall than man, reminding me of Joshua, somewhat. His blank eyed stare is a match for my own. His arms cross across his chest as I approach, a living barricade.

“Looking to speak to Miss Todd,” I tell him, keeping my voice casual, unthreatening. “John Blair, or Minion One, if she prefers.”

I’m quite prepared to make a stand here in order to see her. It would not be the best of impressions if I fought my way to her, but for my brother, it’s a chance that I’m willing to take.

But it’s not a chance that I have to take, as the mountain steps aside to allow me access. He didn’t even have to speak to her. She’s watching.

And she is alone in her luxurious office. I don’t bother to scan the room for threats. Any threat to me will come from the woman straight in front of me, casually tapping her purple lacquered nails on the wood of her desk. Her smile is carefully crafted, equal parts welcoming, and vicious.

“John,” she says, and I suppose that I could take it as a greeting. . “What can I do for Lindsay's most favoured pet?” Her eyes are hard, and calculating.

Most would take umbrage at being called a pet, but I’ve been called worse. And most would be terrified of that look and the smile, and the meaning behind both. Most would be looking to make their courtesies and rush for the exit, or rush for the toilet to change their underwear. But I know Shadowcat, and this is not the first time I’ve had a look like that directed at me. It’s not the first time that I’ve felt like I’m standing on thin ice, with a world of violence waiting below for me, just out of sight.

Hiding behind my mask, I can cope with it.

“Nothing that would tax you. Nothing even that complicated. I'd just like permission to watch one of your father's trainees.”

“Why?” and the whip crack of her voice is startling. With calculation, I flinch every so slightly, then suppress it, which makes the flicker of a smirk dash over her face. Of course, I know that she knows that it’s faked, but she seems to appreciate the gesture.

“Mikaela Street is helping me plan something, and suggested that Ms Langley Lohan might help. I just want to watch her train for a short while.”

Cindy smiles. It's either the smile of a lurking crocodile just below the water, or a lion eyeing a gazelle.

“Scheming, Mr Blair?” she asks lightly. “Why, what would dear Lindsay say?”

“Have fun?” I suggest.

She laughs at my response, and her frozen exterior seems to thaw every so slightly.

“Normally, I'd decline such a request, without even asking my father. But for you, and for Lindsay, I can make an exception.” she says. “But what do I get out of this?”

I had expected this. “A favour owed,” I tell her. “And I am well aware, Ms Todd, of how well you use what is owed to you.”

I know full well what I’m offering her. Cindy Todd is mercurial, dangerous, and has her elegant fingers in many many pies. A favour could be called in for anything, but I’m willing to offer it. The things I’ll do for love.

She smiles again, fiercely. “I can ask,” she says. “But I make no promises.”

Bargain struck.

“No promises expected, for the chance alone our deal stands. ” I say. “Thank you.”



###


I don't know what Cindy said to her father, but my request was accepted, and I was invited to lurk in the Thunderdome. I did have to reassure Tony Todd that I didn't have any murderous or particularly nefarious intentions, but as it was the truth, it wasn't difficult to convince him of my intentions.

Most wrestling facilities are alike, if you’ve seen one, then you’ve seen them all. The Thunderdome was no different, but what was different was the air about it. Some places reek of despair, of broken dreams and shattered hopes. Some stink of arrogance, overwhelming pride and conceit. The moment that I set foot in the Thunderdome, I could feel the pride within, and confidence. There were no shattered hopes here, there was no underserved arrogance.

I was alone in the viewing gallery, somewhat in disguise. For better or worse, I was known in wrestling circles, and I didn’t know just what circles Ms Lohan had followed. It felt strange to have my hair pulled back in a tight knot and tucked under a hat, and the makeup was bloody itchy against my scars. The suit felt awkward and cold, even if Lindsay insisted that they were perfectly fitted. I’d brought a newspaper with me, and settled in with the crossword to pass the time, waiting for Ms Lohan.

From what Mikaela had told me, I had a vague mental image of Ms Lohan.

From what I knew of Cindy Todd and her father, I had another vague mental image, and it was hard to reconcile the two.

But both images were blown out of the water completely the moment I saw her. She was not at all what I had expected. From Mikaela, I had expected a waif of a girl, young and unpolished, a gem in the making. I expected wide eyed innocence.

From Cindy I had expected a curvaceous and sultry vixen, cast in the mould of the femme fatale, dangerous and deadly. I had expected cynicism and seductiveness.

What I got....

The word ‘Amazonian’ flitted through my mind as I watched her take on the heavy bag in the corner. Her technique was rough, but I could see the veneer that Todds training had imparted. I didn't count myself as an expert, but hanging round with a bunch of wrestlers gives one an eye. She was good. She was better than good.

And Chris wouldn't have a clue who she was.

I had mostly made up my mind now as I lurked, but I watched her for a while longer as she moved from the bag to running a few drills with a trainer in the ring.

While she was engaged in forcing the trainer to submit, I slipped out of the viewing gallery and went straight to the restrooms to put myself right. There was nothing to be done about the suit, but I could let my hair down and get rid of the concealer on my face.

Presentable as myself, I settled in to wait in the lobby to catch Ms Lohan before she left. I could feel my skin crawling with the sensation of being watched. Mr Todd had a top notch security system, and I knew that at least one camera was trained on me.

Anything that I had thought to expect from Ms Lohan had been thrown out of the window right now. She was nothing like I had expected or considered, and this was new territory. Chances were high that she’d laugh me out of the building. But for Chris, this was something that I would do.

I already had the words queued up on my tongue by the time that Langley stepped out into the lobby. Her hair fairly shone under the fluorescent lights, and she carried herself with a steely determination. The trainer who I had last seen getting his ass handed to him was joking with her, ice pack clamped firmly to his shoulder.

There was no sign of guilt or worry in Langley Lohan, just a strong, pleased pride in her work.

I cleared my throat, and stepped forward.

“Ms Lohan? My name is John Blair. I’d like to talk to you about a favour, and a business opportunity.”

Goddess, may this work.

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