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Shaun Crowe · (02-15-2017)

What, you missed what happened last time? Well, buckle in. I don't have time to bring you up to speed. Hit the music!

"Easy there, killer. Mind helpin' me up?"

A labored chuckle escapes Luca's lips as he pushes himself out from underneath the beached whale-sized corpse that trapped him moments earlier. Crowe, still dry heaving and muttering softly to himself, fumbles with the gun in his hand, before just setting it on the floor and stumbling, half-dazed, towards the grounded man. Crowe shakily reaches his hand out for Luca to grab, which he does, pulling himself up to his feet.

"Thanks fam."

Without missing a beat, Luca pulls his fist back and sucker punches the stunned wigger, knocking Crowe to the floor like a sack of Shane

's favorite starch. Luca falls with Crowe, continuing to lay the beat down once they both hit the floor. A flurry of punches connect with Crowe's unprotected face before Luca takes a deep breath and gets back to his feet, but not before he kicks the downed shmuck in the ribs for good measure.

"My boss sends his regards."

Luca brushes the dust off his clothes before cracking his neck and picking up the gun Crowe hastily discarded. Whistling a tune, he makes his way to the center of the room, where the second, squirming giant lay face down. Luca theatrically points his gun down at the half-dead monstrosity, performing to an audience of nobody.

"Stand back, this could hurt someone."

Bang!

Blood and gray matter splatter against Luca's clothes, which he pays no attention to as his focus shifts to the woman tied to the chair.

"And you must be the woman of the hour."

"If I say yes, will it get you to untie me quicker?"

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Our mutual friend told me you were a charmer."

Luca looks down at the tangle of rope that binds her hands to the chair, then raises the gun.

"Jokes aside, I really do need to know where that briefcase is. I don't want to have to use this again but, how's that saying go? You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs?"

Dr. Schrodinger's eyes widen as they look into the gaping maw in front of her. She stammers indistinctly before swallowing a mouthful of spit.

"Hey, there's no need for that. Just untie me and I can take you to it. Just like that."

Luca shrugs, cocking his head to the side.

"Come on, you have no reason not to trust me."

"That's a good point."

Dr. Schrodinger sighs in relief, before choking on her lowered guard as she feels the muzzle of the gun pressed against her forehead.

"Then again, I have no reason to trust you either."

Dr. Schrodinger gulps.

"The way I see it, there's two ways this can go: either you start talking, or I pull this trigger right here."

"If you do that, you'll never know where it is."

"Maybe you shouldn't act so indispensable when there's someone else in literally the same room as you who knows everything you do."

"You think that idiot knows the first thing about what's going on here? I can tell you he doesn't, but I think you're already well aware of that."

Luca looks over his shoulder at Crowe, who's just beginning to get to his knees after the beating he received a few moments prior.

"He was a shitty source already, who knows how fucked up he is now?"

Schrodinger's shocked expression turns into a smile.

"You need me."

Luca pulls the gun away and gets to work untying the knot.

"You really are a stubborn bitch. Thought he was just exaggerating."

"I have no idea who this 'he' you're referring to is, I work for--"

"Yeah, I'm bored already. Just stand up, I'll get the idiot."

Schrodinger rubs her wrists before shakily standing up. It takes a second for Luca's words to get through to her and she stumbles over her words for a second.

"Wait, wait wait. We don't need the invalid."

"You might not, but my boss still needs him."

"Poor you."

"Yeah, poor me. Now get walking."

ＹＯＵ＇ＲＥＯＮＹＯＵＲＯＷＮ

Why, hello. It's me again, in case you still don't recognize the sound of my voice. Mr. Crowe is, regrettably, still missing. I do apologize from the bottom of my heart Robert; if I could control that kid, I most certainly would. But, I can't. And it's becoming more and more likely that you'll have to take on this insurmountable (in the eyes of a couple of marks who couldn't tell a wristlock from a wristwatch or Gabe Reno from a cardboard cut-out of someone with actual talent, but that's beside the point) challenge all by your lonesome. Of course, I have full confidence in you to not only meet the task, to rise to the occasion, but to do so with ease. However, I feel I've neglected to mention a few things, namely about Chris Chaos. I may have gotten a little caught up in discussing Gabe Reno's a disproportionate amount relative to the threat he actually presents.

No, Chris Chaos is the man you should be keeping your eye on. I don't have to tell you this, I know you're a much more studious man than my client, but it's a force of habit. See, I've made a career of representing either the talentless or the perpetually distracted, so speaking to a man who possesses both talent and focus is, admittedly, a new domain to me. So, please forgive me if I start to tell you things you already know. I just like to cover my bases.

See, there's a fundamental disconnect between the man Chris Chaos tries to market himself as and the man Chris Chaos is. All you have to do is listen to him talk for more than a few seconds and you can peg the guy he wants to be. Feels he has to be or worse yet, thinks he is. The suave, cool, in control champion. The superstar. The man whose doors companies break down, trying to get his name on the dotted line. Who people stop in the streets for autographs that they'll wind up selling on eBay for a hundred bucks a pop. The guy who can get away with selling $120 plain white T-shirts, or losing his shit on an airplane.

But he isn't. And he tells you he isn't with every word out of his mouth. It's subtle - probably the only subtle thing about him. But it's there, you just gotta know where to look.

Remember: he's a cerebral champion. So cerebral in fact, his bluster gets rekt by a simple case of fridge logic. After all, he's going to embarrass that lower card scrub Shaun Crowe. If you're listening Chris, you're never living that one down. It'll be the hill you die on.

But it goes deeper than that. This isn't me making a mountain out of a molehill. This is reality. This is every stumble Chris Chaos makes over his words. This is every point he weakens by continuing to fucking talk.

This is, me getting tired of starting sentences with the phrase 'this is'.

I could go down a checklist of every time he shoots himself in the foot, but that'd just get repetitive and wouldn't really say anything. The thing a lot of these guys don't get is, it's not just enough to debate people on these points, you gotta make sure they're important.

So, what is important about what Chaos had to say? How does this help to give us a feel for the man behind the man?

Let me just give this segment a snappy little title:

The Portrait of the Young Man as an Artist?

Might be a bit pretentious. More suited to Reno, but I'm a bit short on time. It'll have to do.

Chris Chaos doesn't know what to make of you or my client. Robert, see, he's all over the place in his depiction of you in particular. Ask Chris Chaos ten different times what he thinks of you, you're bound to get eleven different answers. You're a shit stain on the underwear of this company, or you're a decent challenge, you're a nobody, a two-bit chump, you're taking the undercard by storm. Now, you might have gotten whiplash from this all over the place portrayal, huh? Put on a neckbrace and sue the company for unsafe working conditions. Then go out to the ring and beat these two up. It'll be funny.

I digress, what does this mean? Why is his inability to pinpoint just what you are to him so important to determining how he sees himself?

Easy. In his eyes, all of these things are true.

You're a shit stain. A chump. But you're also a decent challenge.

Now, if a shit stain is a decent challenge to you, what does that say about you? Chaos speaks without thinking, and thus exposes himself. These are his thoughts, Robert. He's afraid that a pissant like you - in his eyes, not mine of course - will be able to do what everyone thinks is impossible: knock him and Reno off their high horses. And he fears it because there's a good chance of it happening. But instead of bringing you up to his level, he sinks down to yours. He'll slander himself to insult you.

He's not a god. He isn't a mythical beast. He isn't a cerebral champion.

He's a boy playing dress up with a belt that doesn't fit him.

You got this, Robert. Just look into his eyes and watch him crumble.

PS: What's the odds on either of these guys dropping a promo after this audio gets leaked? I'd take that bet.

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