Previously on North Korean War Criminal

Quote:“SIR! Your plans to fundraise for our efforts to expand North Korea’s influence have led only to our financial ruin.”

Quote:“So. IF what you say is true... We probably shouldn’t get an Edible Arrangements fruit basket on the way to this meeting?”

Quote:“So! The judge says ‘You impudent fool. For your crimes, I am sentencing you to 25 years hard labor’. And the man says, ‘Your honor! 25 YEARS?!? That’s outrageous!’”

NKWC’s eyes briefly scan the room, building the perfect level of anticipation for the punchline, trying to make a human connection with the… phones. He smiles mischievously.

“‘If I could stay hard for 25 years, I’d still be fucking your wife!’”

Quote:“Last item of business, sir… We received a follow-up letter from the XWF.”

Quote:after watching your recent... performance on Wednesday Night Warfare against Betsy Granger, we took time to … re-appraise your value and after some assessment, have opted to alter terms of the previous agreement based on this new data.

Quote:“...Is… Is that…?”

“Yes sir.”

NKWC’s gaze focused deeper onto the card in his lieutenant’s hand…

A $25 gift card to Red Lobster.

Quote:“We cannot wrestle wrestlers without wrestling like wrestlers.”

Quote:“In order to succeed… We need a coach. And I have a… contact.”

Quote:“...Hello?”

The seizing, struggling breathing continues…

Before it becomes the start…

Of a cackling, hideous laugh.

“You’ve reached the cell phone of Mark Flynn.”

“...A voicemail? I hate these stu-.”

“Hey hey, War Criminal.”

NKWC dropped the phone off the hook in a fit of shock. Kato dove for it, to return it to his commander’s ear.

They both held the phone up...

“Don’t worry about leaving a message.”

“I’ll find you.”

And now the continuing story of North Korean War Criminal...

***

The mid-afternoon.

A Home Depot parking lot.

“Get in the LIMOOOOOOOO!”

NK and Kato sprint out the automatic doors and make a mad dash through the parking lot to their limo, parked diagonally across seven spaces.

They reach the limo! NK throws the door open and leaps inside!

“MOOOOOOOOOVE!”

The boards of wood in Kato’s hands slam against the side of the limo doors, too wide to enter the vehicle. Kato loses his hold and they crash down, rebounding against the concrete of the parking lot.

“SHIT!” Kato says, still clinging his grip onto one board… of the four he was originally carrying.

“No time! Get in!”

NK pulls Kato by the arm and shuts the car door behind him. The boards clatter further from the car.

The two men sit in the backseat of the limo, breathing heavily.

“First things first…”

NK reaches down by the floorboards… And retrieves a jar with a single quarter in it, labeled “Kato’s Swear Jar”.

Kato sighs, before reaching into his pocket and dropping a coin.

“Don’t do the crime if you can’t afford the fine, Kato. NOW, HURRY!”

NK reaches up to the front seat, over the partition and hits the lock button on the driver’s side.

NK presses the wooden board against the side door of the limo. Kato retrieves a set of wood nails from his pocket… And the 2003 Motorola Razr they share, (the official phone of North Korea). Kato hammers the nails in with the back of the flip phone.

After a rigorous effort, they’ve managed to punch in three of four nails into their door.

“...Okay… that should hold.”

“But, will it hold him back?”

NK swallows his nerves, before shaking his head in bravado.

“He is a man, Kato. A historically competent competitor, but a mortal man. And this wood is BALSA! The firmest wood of our homeland, bought back and rescued from an American Home Goods Department Store. It shall not fail us in our time of need.”

NK tries to peek out the car window, but cannot through the tint. He tries to roll the window down an inch. THE BALSA WOOD BEGINS TO CRACK! He quickly rolls up the window!

NK backs away from the car door, scooting over Kato in the middle seat to use him as a human shield, if need be.

They take another series of deep breaths to regain what semblance of composure they have.

When they do, NK takes the phone from Kato to read the text, one more time.

“Finally found you.

-Flynn”

They both have stared long and hard at this message…

“Is there geographic data on the message? Perhaps we can determine his location and evade him until we can go on the offensive?”

NK smirks, as the tables may finally be turning.

“An excellent idea, Kato. This fool has played right into our hands. His lack of knowledge is our greatest weapon.”

NK presses his index finger against the message.

Suddenly, a notification pops up under the text

“Seen By North Korean War Criminal”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

NK dive-rolls into the front seat.

He opens up the glove compartment and retrieves a small bottle, then dive-rolls over the partition back into the backseat.

“We have been unavoidably and irreversibly compromised, Kato.”

NK bitterly looks at the bottle, sighing.

“I blame myself.”

“No, sir. Don’t say that.”

“A better commander would have found a way to work past your ceaseless stream of mistakes…”

“Please, sir. Y-...” Kato’s eyes narrow angrily.

“Regardless, if this is how the mission ends, we must act now.”

NK goes to open the bottle, wrapping his hand around the top and twisting…

…

He twists with all his might....

…

He takes his other hand and twists the top and bottom simultaneously.

Dozens of newtons of force applied to every component of the bottle!

…

In a moment, the bottle is surrendered to Kato.

Kato sighs and pushes in the sides of the child-proof cap and the top comes off freely. He hands the bottle back to his commander.

“I loosened it!”

NK reaches into the bottle and retrieves the single pill inside.

“This is a cyanide capsule.”

“...My God.”

“Don’t start with that, Kato, we have no religion.”

“...Fine.”

NK presses the capsule up to Kato’s eye so he can get a closer look.

“Central Command provided us with one of these in case we were ever captured. We cannot surrender our vast amounts of intelligence regarding Central Command.”

Kato rolls his eyes. “Yes, of course. What would the American government do if they knew our trade secrets of overpaying Dennis Rodman?”

“This is for the good of all True Koreans, Kato.”

“Fine. And I assume that’s yours, because you have much more valuable intel and I’ll be sacrificing myself for the glory of True Korea.” Kato has already surrendered to this situation playing out obviously.

“No, this capsule is yours.”

Kato… takes pause. His eyes well with pride...

“Commander...”

“It would do me no good, Kato. I have made myself immune to every poison imaginable. I will spare you the torture and undulterated violence Flynn would put us through. I shall have to bear it myself.”

A tear rolls down Kato’s cheek. He is genuinely touched. “...Sir, this is… very selfless of you.”

KNOCK. KNOCK. A rapping of knuckles on the limo hood.

“War Criminal. I told you I’d find you. Open up.”

“It’s Flynn! Sir, it’s been a true honor to serve at your command.” Kato says as he holds out his hand for the pill...

Before turning to see that NK is already stuffing it down his gullet.

“SIR! MY CAPSULE!”

“I have changed my mind! It is for me as the highest-ranking officer on this mission to decide who takes the cyanide capsule!”

“Sir, you said you’re immune to all poisons!”

“I am! But maybe he’ll torture me less if I have a tummy ache! It’s worth the risk!”

“You guys seem fun.” A muffled voice says from behind them.

Suddenly, the backseat pops down, crushing Kato and NK into the floorboards

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” They scream in terror.

And from above, a head peeks over onto the two Koreans being crushed into the floorboards.

In the backseat of the limo… In his trademark suit.

Mark.

Fucking.

Flynn.

NK and Kato gasp.

“Howdy, commies.”

“How’d you get past our defenses? The car was locked!”

“Pulled the release lever in the trunk to open the backseat latch. Did y’all know your trunk is open and smells like rotten fruit?”

“...No... And yes.”

Kato turns to look at his commander, who is turning blue in the face, grasping at his own throat.

“Oh no! He’s choking to death on his cyanide capsule!”

***

Glug glug glug glug.

“So, then, I say to the judge. ‘25 Years?!?! If I could stay hard for 25 years, I’d still be fucking your wife!”

One man laughs. And under that, glugging continues.

Kato is stunned.

"You're telling me that famous Korean street joke is about you, Mark Flynn?

“Sure is! That’s how I ended up wrestling in a prison camp while I was on the indy circuit. It was during my formative years, late teens, I think it ended up doing me some good.”

Kato smiles politely, listening to Flynn’s story. “Really?”

“No, they tortured me. It only taught me to hate... and which joints break the fastest under applied pressure.”

Flynn sticks his leg onto the table, which rumbles with a thud.

“Turns out, it’s your knees. Only one plane of motion. If you get a good grip and bend it the opposite way, it snaps like balsa wood.”

Kato swallows nervously.

Glug glug glug glug.

NK is chugging down a glass of his water in his right hand… He finishes it… And then starts chugging the glass of water in his left hand.

“...Do y’all need a minute, hun?”

Flynn pops his foot off the table and turns full-focus to the waitress.

“Y’know, he makes it look so good. One glass of water, please.”

NK swings the empty glasses away from his face, gasping for air.

“Five glasses of water, server! And a basket of your freshest, free bread!”

“...Sir, we don’t do free bread. This is a Denny’s.”

“No stress on the tab, gentlemen. I’ve got it.”

NK’s eyebrows raise with promise.

“...We have two orders of the Moons Over My-Hammy.”

The waitress scribbles the order down on her notepad.

“Each!”

The waitress continues to scribble.

“Anything else?”

“Do you serve Edible Arrangements?”

“...Um… no. I don’t think any place besides Edible Arrangements serves Edible Arrangements.”

“Do you have fresh fruit?”

“Oh! Well, yes.”

“To-Go Boxes?”

“...Yes?”

“Plastic wrap?”

“...I can check our storage…?”

“We will have six orders of fresh fruit, in a to-go box, wrapped in plastic. And if possible, a sheet of paper with the Edible Arrangements logo atop the confection.” NK claps twice.

Before the waitress can protest, Flynn slips a bill into her hand. When she sees what kind of bill it is, her eyes open wide.

“Uh… Right away!... I guess.”

The waitress leaves. And then there’s silence.

“...Um. I must thank you for your help with my commander’s… cyanide pill... choking... situation.”

“Oh, sure, anytime. It turns out an improvised tracheotomy is pretty manageable when you’ve got a working knowledge of human anatomy. It’s a funny thing: I learned the thinnest, most vulnerable points of the larynx and throat to achieve optimal chokehold grip. Who would have figured that info would have MEDICAL applications?”

Flynn laughs, like this is a relatable train of thought.

Kato is horrified, but then chuckles to keep this man in a good mood.

NK has returned to chugging water.

Sitting on a napkin beside his drink is a cyanide capsule, lightly dissolved by saliva.

“So, let’s talk business. Have you enjoyed the free trial?”

“Free trial?”

“Sure. This ‘coaching’ has all been on a free-trial basis. How do you know the product is good unless you sample the wares?”

NK finally sets his water down.

“Capitalist Swine. You sound like the Baskin Robbins customers asking for ice cream samples. THE GOODS HAVE VALUE THAT MUST COMPENSATE THE COST OF PRODUCTION FOR THE WORKING CLASS TO RECOUP THEIR LAGOR.”

Flynn is unfazed.

“So, you pulled down a win against Tommy Wish...”

“Your trash talk strategy made him brutalize me after the match.”

Flynn cackles, dropping his friendly facade. Both NK and Kato have a chill running down their spine…

Flynn sighs nostalgically. “Sorry, I’m remembering all the times I was attacked after matches I won.”

Flynn looks up wistfully, as if he’s remembering the best moments of his life.

“It was a lot.”

“Turns out when you work in the company of psychopaths and egomaniacs, very few of them value concepts like sportsmanship or ‘saving it for the ring’.”

Flynn leans in.

“Did I tell you two about that time DURING a match that a clown woman BIT my penis off?”

“Yes, you’ve told us that story thrice since we’ve sat down.”

“I can tell it again.” Flynn chuckles. “It’s a good one.”

“No need, we’ve gotten the gist of it.”

Flynn’s smile fades away, leaving a blank, stoic expression.

“Do you know the common thread between all my opponents that attacked me after the match?”

“They had no chance of defeating me in the match. And their feeble post-match assault was a last-ditch effort to retain some semblance of competence between the ropes.”

“A transparently pathetic effort, given a stronger point would have been made just by defeating me.”

“A feat they were never capable of.”

Flynn smiles.

“War Criminal. There’s a reason we go after our opponents with trash talk.”

“You probably think we do a whole trash talk back-and-forth to increase ticket revenue and television ratings. But there’s a purpose to bringing up their limited movesets and their losing streaks and their custody battles and their struggles with addiction and their sexual misconduct allegations...”

“Their hypocrisies. Which are always numerous and obvious.”

“A well-crafted comment, designed to penetrate the inner folds of your opponent’s mind, can decide a match weeks before you step into the arena.”

NK waves away this lesson.

“Yes, yes, I’m quite familiar. What many of our coworkers fail to understand is this sport is a mental game. I do. You tell me nothing new.”

NK leans back in his chair, smugly confident.

“You have seen what I do. I infuriate, anger and provoke my opponent into making mistakes. I defeated Betsy Granger, despite her superior wrestling ability because she had lost focus, paranoid about BoB attacking. I exacerbated her fear, capitalized with my t-shirt stunt before the match, and whittled her confidence down until she made a fatal, steel-chair based flaw.”

“And using your intel, drawing from Tommy Wish’s disappointing XWF debut, he ended up more interested in beating me down physically and made obtaining the flag his secondary objective. That was all I needed to beat him.”

“Very astute.”

“Now, what if I told you, you could go past infuriating someone, to even dominating and controlling their actions?”

NK… gets very interested.

“Like... a puppet?”

Flynn grins and then purses his lips, looking off thoughtfully, searching for a better analogy.

“More like a rat in a maze. A wrestling match, broken down, is a series of decisions. We trick ourselves into thinking it could unfold an unlimited number of paths.”

“But like any game…” NK’s ears perk at the word 'game'. “...there are a finite number of strategies and options each player has at their disposal.”

“And wrestling, I theorize, is closer to Tic-Tac-Toe than Chess.”

“It’s a game that can be ultimately solved.”

“It is my belief that there is an optimal path. A strategy that leads to victory with a near 100% success rate.”

“And all you have to do is control both players… You decide with full-focus your own path… And simultaneously dictate the path of your opponent.”

“You guide them to the natural route, they reach a point of flux… Then, it plays out according to their nature, which you influence. Their fears, which you shape and mold. You determine the variables by which they think…”

“You make them hate going to the left. So they move to the right.”

“And after a thousand decision points… their path becomes obvious. And circular. And panicked. And before you know it, you’ve stunted them into indecision.”

“Vulnerable.”

“Helpless.”

“Indecision.”

NK is practically salivating at this sales pitch.

“How effective is this technique?”

“It’s how I ended up winning the XWF World Heavyweight Championship and beating Tristan Slater... twice.”

“It’s how I beat Azrael Erebus three times.”

“It’s how I beat Eli James.”

“It’s how I managed to go my entire career without ever losing to Peter Gilmour.”

“A very competent wrestler, but feed him one bit of trash talk and he’s basically fucking hypnotized into doing your bidding.”

Flynn giggles.

“And it’s how WE managed to play our part and knock off Team Thaddeus Duke in WarGames.”

“We knew how to set up the dominos… And when the time came, they fell exactly how we planned they would.”

NK is clearly using every ounce of restraint he has not to beg for these secrets...

“Will this technique make me XWF Universal Champion?”

Flynn laughs out loud.

“Wow! Someone is aiming high!”

NKWC’s eyes turn steely. As focused in this moment as Flynn’s are at all times.

“I will not rest until the XWF executives that killed, and worse, mocked me shall eat heaping portions of crow!”

Flynn is impressed. Or acting like he is.

“This technique is… very successful.”

Before NK can jump over the table and start kissing this man’s hand in fealty, Kato leans into his ear.

“Sir, a moment?”

NK whispers under his breath.

“Speak now, Kato. Coach Flynn and I are on the precipice of my greatest heights, I shall not delay this climb to my summit for idle chatter.”

“Sir, might I suggest a critical thought? If Flynn’s combat style is based in manipulation and control, is it not possible that this pitch is designed to manipulate and control you?”

NK’s eyes, previously dilated like he was riding the biggest high of his life… begin to contract…

His fists de-tighten.

His pulse slows back to an even keel.

“My comrade makes a fine point, Coach Flynn. How do I know your decision to help me is not a larger component of a plan that serves your own needs?”

“NK.”

“I only gave Corey Smith permission to refer to me by that moniker.”

“...May I call you NK?”

“If you must.”

“NK. How could I manipulate a smart, good-looking guy like you? Frankly, I’m dwarfed in the shadow of your superior intellect. Like any coach, I only hope I can guide you to heights I could not reach myself.”

Flynn smiles, politely. But, behind the smile, his eyes narrow in a fashion that some might perceive… insidious.

Kato leans back in.

“Sir, I don’t th-”

Kato looks up at NK, whose dilated pupils are pretty much taking up his entire eyeball. A vein in his forehead seems to be on the verge of bursting.

“DEALDEALDEALDEALDEALDEALDEEEEEEEEEEAL!”

NK smashes his hand into the table again and again with each ‘DEAL’, then opens his palm for a handshake, which Flynn takes quickly.

NK wrings his hands fiendishly as the waitress returns, dropping six grilled sandwich plates on the table… And attempts to set the makeshift Edible Arrangements in the center. She then desperately works to find spots for the six glasses of water… Which she manages to do.

The table is on the verge of buckling, fully occupied.

Kato’s stomach rumbles… He hasn’t eaten since they left Corey Smith’s compound hospital. The small packaged cracker sandwiches flowed from the nurse’s pockets like rain from the sky. Given freely…

It was truly a paradise.

“You boys seem hungry. Dig in.”

As NK digs into his first Moons Over My-Hammy, Kato… pauses.

He scoots the Edible Arrangements sign to the side to regain eye contact with Flynn.

“Coach Flynn, you’ve clarified the many benefits my commander may reap from your arrangement. May I ask what YOU derive from this transaction?”

“Well, the free-trial period just ended.”

NK coughs, choking for a moment on his grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich.

“We… uh… We’re currently in a… From a layman’s perspective, it might appear a financially precarious situation. In fact, it is most secure, however, our available finances are currently tied to… immovable assets...”

Flynn sips his water coolly.

“What assets?”

“Baskin Robbins franchises.” “‘You Aren’t Russell’ T-Shirts.” NK and Kato say simultaneously, before looking at each other, then back to Flynn.

“Huh. Well, no stress. I’m more interested in a… non-financial… payment plan.”

NK immediately resumes, completes, and moves onto his second Moons Over My-Hammy.

Kato, for just a moment, allows himself to sniff one of the grilled sandwiches…

But, he finds himself still hesitant.

“And what would that plan be?”

“If you could help me with an ongoing side-project, we’d be square.”

“Absolutely,” NK says with a mouth of ham, egg and toast. “Kato has a strong back and is great with children, for whatever those qualifications are worth. And I’ve read in his military profile from Central Command, he’s a generous lover, if that’s your meaning.”

Kato double-takes from NK to Flynn, back to NK.

“It wasn’t. But good on you, Kato.”

Kato shakes his head to clear that awkwardness away.

“What side-project?”

Flynn reaches into his coat pocket.

And retrieves an ID badge.

“I’m currently working with the United States Government.”

A beat.

NK immediately dives for the cyanide capsule.

The table collapses under the weight of the small Korean man.

The remaining two Moons-Over-MyHammy plates fly into the air, before crashing onto the ground and being doused by the five glasses of water.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Kato, desperately hungry and physically emaciated, dives to the carpeted Denny’s floor and begins devouring water-logged grilled ham and cheese sandwiches.

NK desperately searches the carpet for the cyanide capsule, before spotting it… Being dissolved in a puddle of water…

He begins desperately sucking moisture out of the carpet.

It’s at this moment the waitress returns to the table.

To see the two North Korean military officers desperately sucking on her carpet and eating off her floor, and one man sitting calmly in his chair, sipping at his glass of water.

When she approaches, Flynn puts full-focus back on her.

He smiles politely.

“Check, please.”