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Felix Braddock · (06-22-2016)

Prologue

As he adjusted his tie and looked into the mirror, Terence Chase felt like a child wearing his father's clothes. Everything about the suit felt off, just a little too big. As much as he wanted to chalk it up weight loss, the fact of the matter was that the portly lawyer couldn't remember the last time he went for a jog or, failing that, did anything even remotely athletic.

Chase had no illusions of being a pleasant man; despite his best efforts to hide it, he seemed to perpetually ooze an aura of sleaze. He reasoned it was par for the course for those in his profession: defending guilty people in a court of law for unreasonably large sums of money. Which wasn't to say he struggled with the consequences of his career on an emotional level. Quite the opposite, really. He was providing a vital service. After all, it didn't matter if his clients were hopelessly, hopelessly guilty: they had a right to legal representation.

His most recent case however, troubled him.

He looked down at the cell phone laying on the lid of the toilet to his left. 'And you're sure he won't take any deal?'

The woman's voice on the other end of the line sighed. 'No. He thinks he can beat it.'

'On what fucking planet?'

'His.'

Terence sighed and pushed his glasses up. 'Of course. He's Felix fuckin' Braddock: he thinks he's untouchable. Shouldn't have even asked.'

'He wants to go over a few things with you, can you come to the restaurant in a bit?'

He cursed under his breath and shook his head.

'Yeah, sure. Be there in a few.'

Without another word, and without waiting for the woman on the other end to respond, Terence hung up the phone and slid it into his pants pocket. Once more he inspected himself in the mirror, the nagging insecurity of his too-big suit drilling deeper into his psyche. It's nothing, he tried to tell himself as he slicked back his hair and stomped on heavy, lumbering feet towards the kitchen to grab a toothpick. It was an old habit, something picked up from a hypnotist a decade and a half ago when he decided he needed help to quit smoking. Whenever he felt the urge to smoke, he instead got the desire to chew on a toothpick.

He couldn't remember the last time he had a craving.

'Fucking Braddock,' he muttered.

I

'Goddamn slimy piece of shit!'

Meredith Braddock groaned and shook her head, hand clenched tightly around her cell phone. She knew she should've expected that; Terence Chase never stayed on the phone any longer than he needed to, but even by his standards that cut-off was unexpected. She loosened her stranglehold on the poor, unsuspecting cellular device and turned around at the sound of a low chuckle. Seated at Meredith's desk, exuding his characteristic snake-oil salesman charm was the immaculately-dressed Charles Elton, unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. He produced a gold-plated lighter from his jacket pocket and looked upwards at Meredith, mumbling something vaguely resembling the question "is it okay if I smoke in here?"

Of course, he didn't wait for an answer before he pulled the crystal ashtray on the other end of the desk over to him and lit the cancer stick pressed between his lips.

'Jesus luv, what's got you all in a tizzy?'

Meredith scoffed, letting herself smile, before taking a seat on the other side of the desk. 'That slimy glorified ambulance chaser.'

Charles clicked his tongue and took a drag, depositing the ashes in the tray. The plume of smoke exited his mouth like a shotgun blast, filling the room with the lingering scent of burning tobacco. He produced his cigarette case and nodded in Meredith's direction.

'I really shouldn't. I'm trying to quit.'

She didn't let herself pause to breath before cutting herself off. 'Ah, hell.'

'Bloody 'ell, make up your mind.'

Charles chuckled as he handed a cigarette and his lighter over to her.

'Why'd you even hire the fat bastard in the first place? Don't act like Feinstein on your father's payroll couldn't get the job done better than him.'

'Think I don't know that?' Meredith blew a plume of smoke before letting the cigarette rest in the ashtray. 'Felix wouldn't have it though, thought hiring my dad's lawyer would make him look suspicious or something.'

'And hiring the most notorious sack of shit this side of the pond is good PR?'

'This whole thing's making him irrational. He's paranoid over the dumbest shit.'

'Damn shame.'

'Worst part is, he doesn't have to worry about it. It's being handled.'

Charles' lips curled into a smile and his eyes widened. He leaned in closer, taking a look over his shoulder to ensure there was no one else in the room. As he suspected, they were the only two occupying the small, cluttered study. No prying eyes, intrepid reporters, or intruders with ill-intent here. 'You don't mean...'

Meredith nodded, barely able to conceal the almost child-like glee that surged throughout her body. She always wondered what it'd be like to be God, to decide who lived and who died. After tonight, she was sure she'd know the answer.

'And he doesn't know?'

'Not yet. I wanted to surprise him with it.'

Charles opened his mouth to speak, but fell silent as he was cut off by the ringing of Meredith's cell phone. A wee bit startled by the sudden noise, Meredith jumped out of her seat before looking at the lit up screen for not even a second before accepting the call.

II

The Dozerman family had pledged service to the Wesley family for as far back as anyone in either family could remember. The latest in the Dozerman line, John "Doe" Dozerman, followed right in his daddy's footsteps. An absolute beast of a man at almost 2 meters and 113 kilograms, he faithfully served whatever order James Wesley IV assigned him.

Tonight was almost no different.

He'd been eyeing the nebbish little prick from down the counter of the pub for a good 15 minutes, studying the small picture curled up in his hand to ensure they were one in the same. When he was absolutely certain he had the right man, he retreated to a secluded corner of the pub and dialed up a certain special someone.

''Ello?' her voice chirped from the other end of the line.

Though she'd been married for a half decade, John still knew her as Meredith Wesley. He saw a lot of her father in her, the same faux-affability, like silk hiding steel. He returned her pleasantries, at least on the surface as he uttered the code they'd constructed for this meeting: 'Hey, I'm down at the pub and I saw that dish-faced poof Paul Goldman. Want me to tell him you said hi?'

There was a brief silence on the other end, before Meredith piped back up.

'Oh, nah. Don't worry about it.'

He nodded and hung up the phone, keeping his eyes on the shifty-eyed little fuck. It didn't take a genius to see that even though the kid was trying his hardest to look calm and collected, he was looking over his shoulder with each breath he took. Because of people like him, John conceded to himself with a chuckle. The kid had every reason to be afraid.

After what felt like an eternity passed, the kid excused himself and made his way to the bathroom, passing right by John without even stopping to inspect the one man he should've been wary of.

Rookie mistake.

John shadowed the kid on his way to the bathroom, slipping in behind him and pushing the door shut. With a flick of the wrist, he turned the lock. It was just him, and the little snitch.

The kid's eyes went wide and his heart sunk into his chest.

'Relax kid, I ain't gonna hurt ya.'

He was telling the truth. Sure, if he put up even the slightest bit of a struggle there'd be a whole other story completely, but something told John that this time, it'd be a peaceful chat.

'L-l-l-look man--'

'No, you look.' John stepped closer to the kid, before exploding after him and pinning him to the wall with his forearm pressed to his throat. 'You listen and you listen good. I hate repeating myself.'

The kid nodded as much as he could.

'Alright, I'm gonna keep this short and sweet. You didn't see shit. You don't know shit. Got that?'

The kid attempted to nod again.

'Good. So let me prep you real quick. If they ask you if you saw shit, what are you going to say?'

'N-n-no.'

'Right. And if they ask if you know shit, what are you going to say?'

'N-n-no.'

'Nah, that ain't good enough. I want you to give me your word.'

'I swear! I don't know shit! I didn't see shit!'

'Good. Stick to that.'

He pulled his forearm away and the kid fell to the ground, clutching his throat and coughing.

'If I have to come see you again, you're fuckin' dead.'

John washed his hands, looked himself in the mirror, unlocked the door, and made his way out of the pub as the kid pushed himself up to his feet. He looked down at the piss stains on his brand new pair of pants and cursed under his breath.

III

Felix couldn't help but laugh as he inspected himself in the handheld mirror in the driver seat. He was being ridiculous. Absolutely absurd. He chalked it up to the XWF, that utter shitshow. When Tush had told him of the XWF's bias against English-born wrestlers, he laughed it off as another tall-tale, another absolute lie from the best liar he'd ever seen in action. Of course that theory would be proven wrong during his first match.

Still, he couldn't shake the building paranoia as the days drew ever closer to the one he'd be in court. The thought terrified him. Chase wasn't much help, the fat fuck constantly trying to get plea deals to avoid litigation. He didn't understand what Chase's goal was; this was what he did for a living.

'You okay?' Meredith asked.

'Yeah, fine. Go in and get us a table, I'll be there in a bit.'

She sighed and did as instructed.

Felix sighed and looked into the mirror.

'You'll be fine,' he assured himself. He looked out the windshield and watched as Meredith made her way into the restaurant, phone pressed against her ear. He got out of the car and followed.

Ten minutes later they were in their usual spot, nestled into the far corner. The hippopotamus who was supposed to have Felix's best interests at heart lumbered his way into the building, and Felix's arm instantly went up in the air to reveal where they were.

Once Terence took a seat at the table, huffing and puffing as if he was winded from the walk, Meredith piped up.

'So nice of you to come out here on such short notice,' she said, laying in that trademark Wesley charm. Felix knew that voice, that hollow, vaguely elegant lilt that seemed to lull even the most discerning of bullshit artists into a false sense of security.

'You said you wanted to talk about the case?'

The pair nodded, and Meredith cleared her throat.

'So, I have a pretty important announcement to make.'

Reflexively, she looked over her shoulders to make sure no one was eavesdropping, despite the fact that the only thing behind her was a wall. Despite her best efforts to conceal it, a grin crept across her face.

'I'm proud to say that the prosecution has one less witness.'

Felix's eyes lit up and Chase's went wide as they both uttered the same shocked, questioning remark: 'What?'

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