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~~Brandon Moore~~ · **01-12-2017, 01:50 PM**

…………….

The sun is setting on Tampa, Florida. Hillsborough County Jail still has a bit of light bathing the floor through the windows. The cell is cold and surrounded by concrete and steel. There’s a toilet in the corner and a bench on the opposite wall that can be used for a bed. Oddly enough, there is only one man being held captive in the cell. It’s because he obviously cannot play well with others. This has definitely been the case every time he’s been placed in a jail cell.

Brandon Moore wakes up in the cell, on the flimsy metal bench. He has no recollection of being brought here, but is sure it had to do with him causing a ruckus at his hotel earlier. Brandon sits up and rubs his eyes. He glances around to see what kind of mess he has gotten into. It takes him a few seconds, but he is startled at the sight of a short man in a black suit with a black hat producing a shadow over his face. It is the same man from the jail in Pittsburgh that claims he works with XWF management.

-Brandon Moore-
“Jesus, dude! You again? You scared the shit out of me. How did you even get in here?”

-Mysterious Man-
“That’s none of your concern. What is of your concern, though, is your actions as of late. Care to explain?”

-Brandon Moore-
“Explain what? I didn’t do a damn thing.”

-Mysterious Man-
“Is that so? You’re telling me you didn’t slap a young man with Down syndrome? You were doing so well for the last couple of weeks. After Pittsburgh and the hockey brawl and the Christmas event, I figured you would have learned your lesson. That makes me a fool. We let your assault on Steve Sayors and his crew slide since that was within the grounds of the XWF, but this time, you may have just crossed the line.”

-Brandon Moore-
“I don’t even know you, man. You bailed me out of jail in Pittsburgh, congratulations. I’m not saying thank you. What the hell do you want with me?!”

-Mysterious Man-
“I guess it is time that I come clean. I have been sent to watch you. I am not with your precious wrestling federation. The money you are wasting by ending up in trouble and in jail is not the money of Jefferson Jackson or Vincent Lane. No, the money you are wasting is that of your younger brother’s. The XWF has no idea of the times I’ve been sent to pull you out of the hole you’ve dug.”

-Brandon Moore-
“What? You’ve got the wrong guy. I’m an only child, short stack.”

-Mysterious Man-
“Half-brother to be exact. Your mother hasn’t been in your life for some time, has she? Well, after she left you and your father, she found love yet again. She married a fine Italian man who was actually my boss for quite some time. They had a son, your younger half-brother.”

-Brandon Moore-
“You’re fucking lying. Who are you?!”

-Mister E.-
“Fine, I will come clean on that front, as well. I am Mister E. I know, I know. That’s a DC Comics character from dozens of years ago, but my last name really does start with an E. I’m just not crazy enough to give you my full name. Mr. Moore, I am not lying to you. Your mother Patricia was a lovely woman.”

-Brandon Moore-
“Patricia…you really do know my mom? But…was?”

-Mister E.-
“Yes, I’m sorry. It has been several years since your mother and her new husband have passed on. Your brother is the man I answer to now. The reason he has been trying to keep you out of trouble is because he would like to invite you for meeting. He is interested in possibly doing business. Keeping the business in the family is important. The business he is in…it’s important to keep a low profile. Your connections as an XWF superstar are perfect, but the attention you draw from your extra-curricular activities are less than desirable. I am here to help you exceed. Not just in your profession, but in life.”

Brandon takes a moment to soak up the information he has just been slammed with.

-Brandon Moore-
“My father is probably dead. My mother is dead. My step-father, I guess that’s what he is, is dead. And I have a very much alive half-brother. This is a lot to just drop on a motherfucker, bro.”

-Mister E.-
“Yes, it is, but hear me out. Your mother had no choice. Your father was a tyrant, as you know. You dealt with that, though, didn’t you? Believe me, your mother wanted to return to you. Up until her very last breath, she had nothing but positive things to say about you as a child. She begged and pleaded for her new husband to track you down and remove you from your situation. There just wasn’t enough time. I’d hate her to see you like this.”

Brandon is set off now. He lunges at the man, shoving him against the wall of the cell, holding his short body up by his shirt.

-Brandon Moore-
“Listen here, pipsqueak. I’ve done things on my own my entire life. I don’t need you. I don’t need my so-called half-brother. I’ve got a couple asses to kick and then I’m off to win the Hart Championship in Ant-fucking-arctica. I don’t have time for your games!”

Mister E. is remaining rather calm given the circumstances he has found himself in.

-Mister E.-
“Then you can rot in prison. And what about your acquaintances in Havoc? Do you think they will help you? No, this is family looking out for you, Brandon. Now, put me down and let me help you.”

Brandon realizes that this guy is probably his only chance of getting out of here. If he wants to even make it to Antarctica to fight Robbie Bourbon, he has no other choice but to comply with Mister E. Brandon slides Mister E. down the wall so that he is back on his feet and lets go of his shirt. He takes a few steps backwards before sitting back down on the metal bench. Mister E. has his attention so he better make it count.

-Brandon Moore-
“Fine, go ahead, but this better be good.”

-Mister E.-
“I’m getting you out of here just as I did in Pittsburgh, but first, your opponent for Wednesday Warfare. Robbie Bourbon seems like a bit of a hassle, yes? There is nothing to worry about against Reeve and Snow on Saturday, so I can understand your focus being solely on Mr. Bourbon. Per your brother’s request, I have done some research on Mr. Bourbon. I’m here to help you understand his weaknesses and to prepare you for your battle for the Hart Championship.”

-Brandon Moore-
“Great. Just get on with it.”

-Mister E.-
“Very well then…Robbie Bourbon is impervious to bullets, as you probably know.”

-Brandon Moore-
“And I’m impervious to giving a fuck. Seriously, I’m not going to shoot the fucker. It’s a wrestling match.”

-Mister E.-
“Of course, but there are things he has no resistance to. If things were to break down on that cruise ship, you would probably easily find a weapon to displace Mr. Bourbon with. His temper should be something you are familiar with. It quite matches yours, if I must say.”

-Brandon Moore-
“No, you mustn’t say. I’m nothing like that tool.”

-Mister E.-
“Fair enough. Some advice would be to manage your temper as his gets out of control. His hot head gets him in trouble, much like yours, but of course, you are nothing like that tool. He has a seemingly infinite number of lackeys known as Bourbon Men at his disposal. We tried extremely hard to find out the secret of his constant crony reproduction, but it was of no avail. You may want to ask Ronnie Cage and David Stone to keep an eye on your match in case you find yourself outnumbered. His men are a bit dull-minded. I’m sure the three of you can remove them from the equation with little effort.”

-Brandon Moore-
“Okay, okay, what else? Is there anything good? I already know I can make him bleed. I already know he’s a lunatic. I already know us Havoc boys can take on the world if we had to.”

-Mister E.-
“That’s all I’ve got. There’s no need to thank me, because I know you wouldn’t anyways. You’ve got your information to build a game plan. The Arctic is unforgiving, Brandon. Be wise as you enter your match with Robbie Bourbon. Here’s to you, Federweight Champion, winning the XWF Hart Championship. Your brother and I will be watching. Your rental car is outside, unlocked, with the key in the glove box. Go back to your hotel and make it to Wednesday, will you? I’ll be in touch.”

Mister E. pats Brandon on the shoulder and turns towards the entrance to the jail cell. He miraculously slides the cell door open and steps through, closing it behind. He tips his hat towards Brandon and strolls down the hallway out of Brandon’s sight. Brandon leaps to his feet, trying to open the cell door himself, but it’s no use. The door is locked tight like it should be, leaving Brandon confused as to what just took place. He yells down the hall at the direction of Mister E, but knows he is long gone in such a short time.

-Brandon Moore-
“Aren’t you getting me out of here?! What’s my brother’s name even?! Short stack, come back!”

-Jail Officer-
“Back off the door!”

Coming from the same direction Mister E. made his departure is an officer working at the jail. He barks at Brandon to step back as he fiddles with the keys hanging from his belt loop. Brandon backs away and watches as the officer unlocks the cell door and slides it open.

-Jail Officer-
“I don’t know how or why, but you’re out of here. Someone took your belongings and placed them in your car outside. I suggest you get a move on, son, before I make an executive decision.”

Brandon flips the bird at the officer while he’s not paying attention. As his attention turns back towards Brandon, Brandon smiles and delivers a nod. Brandon hurriedly exits the cell and turns down the corridor in the direction the officer appeared. The officer follows Brandon, escorting him to the door of the jail. The officer gives Brandon a shove, hoping for Brandon to get out of his sight as quick as possible. Brandon is happy to oblige as he busts through the front door, seeing his rental car in the first available spot.

Brandon is out! He’s not going to question it. For once, he’s just going to accept it. Brandon jumps the stairs and takes off towards the rental Chevy Cobalt. The keys are in the glovebox like Mister E. said. Life just keeps getting stranger and stranger for Brandon, but he shrugs as he starts the car up and takes off towards the hotel. It’s nap time.

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