Post by harvey on Nov 26, 2023 23:02:46 GMT -5
Wartime Intelligence Security/Autonomous Recon Drive initialized
Operational Status: Online/Covert
Promotional material received: Phnom Penh, Cambodia
PLAYBACK
You might be wondering why The Big Ticket is in a sauna wearing the world's smallest towel with seven new friends. I was all set to go down to Fixers for a little R&R when some fascist on TRIAD Radio said I couldn't do my promo in a bar. So get cozy, and direct any complaints to the TRIAD media relations department!
I’m here to relax because it’s been a hard Trial for Harvey Marx. I’ve been handcuffed and beaten with a chair, blinded, thrown off a ladder, and BETRAYED by ALIAS and there are still three matches left.
Someone else who understands hardship? Sebastian Everett-Bryce. The reluctant silver spoon superstar who wants to make his own name in the world, even if that name is Barry Chuckle! He’s his own man and he loves crocs! Two belts and he’s marching on, family legacy be damned!
Until an old man jabbers about a mysterious artifact in Cambodia. Now he’s whistling “God Save the King” through the jungle on a heroic quest to claim his birthright!
You might want to claim your backbone first, kid. You might think you’ve found your Strength, but you don’t carry it well. The piece of the TRIAD no more belongs to you than it does me. I understand that. And I’ll have no problem doing what I have to do to find it and take it. That’s what your ancestors did, right?. You should’ve asked the old man to finish the history lesson before you set sail to find yourself. I’ll finish the story. The sun sets on your empire at Ta Prohm.
My favorite stories are about dragons. Dragon claws average 37 inches long and they have teeth that can shred buildings as easily as people! You can trust old Harvey. The Big Ticket is one of the world’s leading experts on dragons.
Actually, I’m a hustler and a bullshit artist. Same thing.
It’s no secret that I play a role. I’ll say whatever I need to say to move tickets and make legends. I’ve blowing smoke for over 20 years just like you, Steve. I wasn’t planning on being stripped down today but it helps make my point. I’m still a monster without my myth.
I’ve seen through yours. You’re just a 190-pound trailer park tyrant with the kink to torture people and without the balls to break them. I like my chances.
Spencer Adams likes his chances to win… somewhere. He’s booked in 73 matches this month. The WGWF, XHW, Pro Wrestling Valor. He’s on more posters than Farah Fawcett and might actually think he’s that over. TRIAD is an elite promotion with one of the greatest fields ever assembled. Is it crowded and uncomfortably hot? Yes, but I can take it. We’re here to find the strongest wrestler alive, not the prettiest. I might be the size of Switzerland, but you won’t find Neutral Ground in the ring with me. I’m glad you handed out all those flowers and made all those friends with your list. You’ll need them to carry you out after the man you left at the bottom puts you in your place. You’re already planning your next escape, I’m sure. My contacts at Motor City Wresting, New Frontier and Full Throttle would sign you.
END PLAYBACK
ACCESSING MEMORY SIMULATION
Subject: Albright, Leonora Jane.
Location: Seattle. Black Pyramid Universe
November 26th, year unknown
BEGIN SIMULATION
She flinches at the sound of many voices as the guests start to sing "Happy Birthday"
Lincoln: Make a wish, L.J.
The man leans in over the back of her wheelchair and helps her blow out the candles.
Leonora: I want to be an actress, daddy! On a stage just like Miss Pearl!
An old woman wearing a feather boa and a faux mink coat nods approvingly.
Leonora: Do you think I will someday, daddy?
She looks over her shoulder at the man behind her chair. Dr. Lincoln Albright is silent for a long moment. Then he shoves his hands into his lab coat. A single tear runs down his face as he turns to face his daughter.
Lincoln: No. No, honey. But you'll always be my queen.
Leonora is still for a heartbeat and then beams.
Leonora: It's okay daddy. Queens are pretty too.
Present Leo: I strained against my seat harness and my own despair to reach out to him and smile for the camera. Great actors don’t need a stage. That day I had seen what it cost my father to tell me the truth. He killed my dream to protect me from a dark world he thought would do far worse to a girl with spastic cerebral palsy. He wasn’t wrong to worry. Even then I knew the isolation, discrimination, and cruelty in my future. Some might think all the things I have done were to make to world pay for what it did to me. The truth? I’ll never stop making it pay for hurting the loving father who would never know how strong I’ve become.
ATHORIZED ENTRY DETECTED
ENDING SIMULATION
ACTIVATING SOCIAL PERSONA
*
Lights flicker on somewhere inside Big Ticket Studios Chicago as the queen is moved into place on a chess board.
Leonora: Hello, Oz.
WISARD: Good morning, Miss Albright. I was just reviewing Mr. Markov’s promo for Ta Prohm
Leonora: Why do I feel like that’s not all you’re reviewing? You would think a military surveillance AI would be better at lying to me after a decade together. I’ll take a look later. I don’t have long before I’m on a plane to New York. Do you have the footage?
The screens display different angles of a holding cell where two men are having a conversation. A mug shot with biographical details appears in the lower left corner of each
Lorenzo Mancini
Date of birth: July 15, 1959
Lorenzo: You have to be me!
WISARD: I’ll have the rest of the translation by nightfall.
Leonora examines the two men. The younger Mancini has the same eyes as his father. At least genetically. There’s something well beyond words or science missing from Anthony’s.
WISARD: The mask is still a threat.
Leonora: Harlan can take care of himself. Combat sports is Big Ticket Entertainment’s business, not mine. A few chair shots are no reason not to be a good neighbor. I don’t have enough men to go to war. Speaking of threats, any trace of Cypher since the fan voting hack?
WISARD: Negative. I will know if he goes to work again. The code is like that of a child skipping on rocks across rapids. Genius, but the danger doesn’t occur to him. Do you think the hack was a message to us?
He doesn’t actually know who “we” are. I’m just the producer and window dressing for The Big Ticket, and you don’t exist. He’s got a thing for blondes. Screwing Harvey Marx was just a perk. Show me the dossier.
A dance of screen captures and documents. Official papers and medical records mingle with selfies and emojis. There are yachts, horses, graduation photos and tabloid articles. World leaders and socialites are sprinkled throughout. The story compresses two or three lifetimes of accomplishments into a ten year period. It is a mosaic of wealth, power and privilege in the digital age.
WISARD: Jameison Westmore-Bradley IV, Aged 19
Leonora: …Rich boys and their hyphens.
WISARD: This gentleman seems preoccupied with spending his family’s money.
Leonora: I’d like to spend some of it myself.
WISARD: You should depart for the airport. And Miss Albright?
Leonora: Yes?
WISARD: Happy Birthday.
Leonora smiles and caresses the golden web pendant around her neck
*
New York City, 10:14pm
The Velvet Rabbit
The sound hits me harder than any of the sights at the Velvet Rabbit. Sound hits me harder anywhere. Many people with cerebral palsy have a more sensitive startle response than others.
Dozens of conversations and pounding bass lash out and I keep my expression calmer than my heart rate until I adjust. I don’t have the breath support to project my voice over all of it. My people know these things that the patrons never will. The silent struggles keep me sharp. Bas Knox stays with me a few feet ahead and two to my right, making a path for my chair through the maze of bodies across a dance floor and into the staff-only elevator. Knox pushes the down button and I take a few deep breaths in the silence and near darkness.
I’m often asked about living in the shadow of The Big Ticket. I don’t resent that. As his producer, I’ve helped make that shadow even larger than the man. Shadows are very useful.
Showtime.
The doors open into Pandora’s Box. The people part themselves for me down here. I’m dressed in white to complement pink and purple lighting. This is the only spotlight that has ever been mine alone and I know what to do under it. I move ahead until a sub in full leather on a leash crawls down the lane and stops at my right side, a hand on one of my tires pushing up to meet my face. I pat his head and purr before slapping him across the face. I have to commit to the role I play every night I have a client here. I want the rumors to be as vivid as this little display.
People stop digging for dirty secrets if they think they have already found them.
A few more turns past a few people in compromising positions brought us to my private room. Knox stays outside and closes the door. The walls are lined with racks a little lower than the norm to leave the instruments within my reach in the chair. The X bar and harness mounted above the door is the perfect accent to the two long couches on either side of a pole. Jameison Westmore-Bradley IV sits on the couch facing away from the door. Even after leaving The Black Pyramid Universe behind, I’ll always face the door. You never know who might break it down.
Jameison: You aren’t what I expected.
I don’t know if he’s talking about my wheelchair or my outfit. Sitting here in white suit with a black tie I don’t look like a dominatrix to most. That’s their problem. He looks nervously at the riding crop, flogger and cane on the wall.
Jameison: Is this the part where you beat my ass?
Clueless. I didn’t need months of advance work and Oz’s help to know he’s not like the other rich boys lining up to pay me five grand for a few bruises to empower me and prove how woke they are. I keep their secrets, their connections and their mistakes. I leave their cash for the Bucks and Does here.
Leonora: Those are for play. I’d use a better tool if I wanted to beat you. Don’t worry, He’s in Cambodia right now.
Jameison: Cambodia? That’s where my father is! I want to take over his company. It’s an empire, really.
“Empire.” The word brings up the memory of the days the ink on my back was fresh. There’s a ghost of pain tracing the words of the Latin phrase just under the crown, and then for a moment they are on fire. Talk of empires is big in wrestling. The ring is filled with kings and queens without a kingdom to call their own. Every fighter who carries a trinket or two for six months goes on about building a legacy. They think an empire is a word that looks good on FIGHT’s belt and SEB’s ass. Big Ticket Entertainment is fueled by the same nonsense, but Marx and I wouldn’t be in the business if we let principle come before profit.
True empires are about mastery, not marketing. They are built by the powerful and rest on the backs of people who carry them forward out of respect drenched with fear. Just a couple of years ago and a universe away, I had an empire. Every underworld organization in the entire Pacific Northwest answered to me by the time I was twenty five. They didn’t know my name, but they acknowledged my reign as Queen of the Emerald City.
The ink cools down and I’m pulled back to the moment.
Jameison: my father doesn’t think I’m strong enough to hold onto the company. That’s why he sent me here.
I came here tonight as part of a game on two continents to take WBI out of the running for a lucrative development contract in Phnom Penh. Harvey Marx’s relationship with TRIAD is of course perfectly legitimate work for BTE. He’s overseas doing what he does best. Making deals and attracting attention.
I’ve seen hundreds of pictures of Jameison Westmore-Bradley IV. There are still some things that only come through in person. There is something in this kid’s eyes that I had seen earlier in those of the head of the Mancini Crime family.
The chairman of Westmore-Bradley Industries has either underestimated his son or is trying to hold back a future threat.
I was going to stop at embarrassing the old man like we were hired to. That’s before I learned he was killing his son’s dreams out of cowardice.
My crew will break a Bradley soon, but not this kid.
Operational Status: Online/Covert
Promotional material received: Phnom Penh, Cambodia
PLAYBACK
You might be wondering why The Big Ticket is in a sauna wearing the world's smallest towel with seven new friends. I was all set to go down to Fixers for a little R&R when some fascist on TRIAD Radio said I couldn't do my promo in a bar. So get cozy, and direct any complaints to the TRIAD media relations department!
I’m here to relax because it’s been a hard Trial for Harvey Marx. I’ve been handcuffed and beaten with a chair, blinded, thrown off a ladder, and BETRAYED by ALIAS and there are still three matches left.
Someone else who understands hardship? Sebastian Everett-Bryce. The reluctant silver spoon superstar who wants to make his own name in the world, even if that name is Barry Chuckle! He’s his own man and he loves crocs! Two belts and he’s marching on, family legacy be damned!
Until an old man jabbers about a mysterious artifact in Cambodia. Now he’s whistling “God Save the King” through the jungle on a heroic quest to claim his birthright!
You might want to claim your backbone first, kid. You might think you’ve found your Strength, but you don’t carry it well. The piece of the TRIAD no more belongs to you than it does me. I understand that. And I’ll have no problem doing what I have to do to find it and take it. That’s what your ancestors did, right?. You should’ve asked the old man to finish the history lesson before you set sail to find yourself. I’ll finish the story. The sun sets on your empire at Ta Prohm.
My favorite stories are about dragons. Dragon claws average 37 inches long and they have teeth that can shred buildings as easily as people! You can trust old Harvey. The Big Ticket is one of the world’s leading experts on dragons.
Actually, I’m a hustler and a bullshit artist. Same thing.
It’s no secret that I play a role. I’ll say whatever I need to say to move tickets and make legends. I’ve blowing smoke for over 20 years just like you, Steve. I wasn’t planning on being stripped down today but it helps make my point. I’m still a monster without my myth.
I’ve seen through yours. You’re just a 190-pound trailer park tyrant with the kink to torture people and without the balls to break them. I like my chances.
Spencer Adams likes his chances to win… somewhere. He’s booked in 73 matches this month. The WGWF, XHW, Pro Wrestling Valor. He’s on more posters than Farah Fawcett and might actually think he’s that over. TRIAD is an elite promotion with one of the greatest fields ever assembled. Is it crowded and uncomfortably hot? Yes, but I can take it. We’re here to find the strongest wrestler alive, not the prettiest. I might be the size of Switzerland, but you won’t find Neutral Ground in the ring with me. I’m glad you handed out all those flowers and made all those friends with your list. You’ll need them to carry you out after the man you left at the bottom puts you in your place. You’re already planning your next escape, I’m sure. My contacts at Motor City Wresting, New Frontier and Full Throttle would sign you.
END PLAYBACK
ACCESSING MEMORY SIMULATION
Subject: Albright, Leonora Jane.
Location: Seattle. Black Pyramid Universe
November 26th, year unknown
BEGIN SIMULATION
She flinches at the sound of many voices as the guests start to sing "Happy Birthday"
Lincoln: Make a wish, L.J.
The man leans in over the back of her wheelchair and helps her blow out the candles.
Leonora: I want to be an actress, daddy! On a stage just like Miss Pearl!
An old woman wearing a feather boa and a faux mink coat nods approvingly.
Leonora: Do you think I will someday, daddy?
She looks over her shoulder at the man behind her chair. Dr. Lincoln Albright is silent for a long moment. Then he shoves his hands into his lab coat. A single tear runs down his face as he turns to face his daughter.
Lincoln: No. No, honey. But you'll always be my queen.
Leonora is still for a heartbeat and then beams.
Leonora: It's okay daddy. Queens are pretty too.
Present Leo: I strained against my seat harness and my own despair to reach out to him and smile for the camera. Great actors don’t need a stage. That day I had seen what it cost my father to tell me the truth. He killed my dream to protect me from a dark world he thought would do far worse to a girl with spastic cerebral palsy. He wasn’t wrong to worry. Even then I knew the isolation, discrimination, and cruelty in my future. Some might think all the things I have done were to make to world pay for what it did to me. The truth? I’ll never stop making it pay for hurting the loving father who would never know how strong I’ve become.
ATHORIZED ENTRY DETECTED
ENDING SIMULATION
ACTIVATING SOCIAL PERSONA
*
Lights flicker on somewhere inside Big Ticket Studios Chicago as the queen is moved into place on a chess board.
Leonora: Hello, Oz.
WISARD: Good morning, Miss Albright. I was just reviewing Mr. Markov’s promo for Ta Prohm
Leonora: Why do I feel like that’s not all you’re reviewing? You would think a military surveillance AI would be better at lying to me after a decade together. I’ll take a look later. I don’t have long before I’m on a plane to New York. Do you have the footage?
The screens display different angles of a holding cell where two men are having a conversation. A mug shot with biographical details appears in the lower left corner of each
Lorenzo Mancini
Date of birth: July 15, 1959
Lorenzo: You have to be me!
WISARD: I’ll have the rest of the translation by nightfall.
Leonora examines the two men. The younger Mancini has the same eyes as his father. At least genetically. There’s something well beyond words or science missing from Anthony’s.
WISARD: The mask is still a threat.
Leonora: Harlan can take care of himself. Combat sports is Big Ticket Entertainment’s business, not mine. A few chair shots are no reason not to be a good neighbor. I don’t have enough men to go to war. Speaking of threats, any trace of Cypher since the fan voting hack?
WISARD: Negative. I will know if he goes to work again. The code is like that of a child skipping on rocks across rapids. Genius, but the danger doesn’t occur to him. Do you think the hack was a message to us?
He doesn’t actually know who “we” are. I’m just the producer and window dressing for The Big Ticket, and you don’t exist. He’s got a thing for blondes. Screwing Harvey Marx was just a perk. Show me the dossier.
A dance of screen captures and documents. Official papers and medical records mingle with selfies and emojis. There are yachts, horses, graduation photos and tabloid articles. World leaders and socialites are sprinkled throughout. The story compresses two or three lifetimes of accomplishments into a ten year period. It is a mosaic of wealth, power and privilege in the digital age.
WISARD: Jameison Westmore-Bradley IV, Aged 19
Leonora: …Rich boys and their hyphens.
WISARD: This gentleman seems preoccupied with spending his family’s money.
Leonora: I’d like to spend some of it myself.
WISARD: You should depart for the airport. And Miss Albright?
Leonora: Yes?
WISARD: Happy Birthday.
Leonora smiles and caresses the golden web pendant around her neck
*
New York City, 10:14pm
The Velvet Rabbit
The sound hits me harder than any of the sights at the Velvet Rabbit. Sound hits me harder anywhere. Many people with cerebral palsy have a more sensitive startle response than others.
Dozens of conversations and pounding bass lash out and I keep my expression calmer than my heart rate until I adjust. I don’t have the breath support to project my voice over all of it. My people know these things that the patrons never will. The silent struggles keep me sharp. Bas Knox stays with me a few feet ahead and two to my right, making a path for my chair through the maze of bodies across a dance floor and into the staff-only elevator. Knox pushes the down button and I take a few deep breaths in the silence and near darkness.
I’m often asked about living in the shadow of The Big Ticket. I don’t resent that. As his producer, I’ve helped make that shadow even larger than the man. Shadows are very useful.
Showtime.
The doors open into Pandora’s Box. The people part themselves for me down here. I’m dressed in white to complement pink and purple lighting. This is the only spotlight that has ever been mine alone and I know what to do under it. I move ahead until a sub in full leather on a leash crawls down the lane and stops at my right side, a hand on one of my tires pushing up to meet my face. I pat his head and purr before slapping him across the face. I have to commit to the role I play every night I have a client here. I want the rumors to be as vivid as this little display.
People stop digging for dirty secrets if they think they have already found them.
A few more turns past a few people in compromising positions brought us to my private room. Knox stays outside and closes the door. The walls are lined with racks a little lower than the norm to leave the instruments within my reach in the chair. The X bar and harness mounted above the door is the perfect accent to the two long couches on either side of a pole. Jameison Westmore-Bradley IV sits on the couch facing away from the door. Even after leaving The Black Pyramid Universe behind, I’ll always face the door. You never know who might break it down.
Jameison: You aren’t what I expected.
I don’t know if he’s talking about my wheelchair or my outfit. Sitting here in white suit with a black tie I don’t look like a dominatrix to most. That’s their problem. He looks nervously at the riding crop, flogger and cane on the wall.
Jameison: Is this the part where you beat my ass?
Clueless. I didn’t need months of advance work and Oz’s help to know he’s not like the other rich boys lining up to pay me five grand for a few bruises to empower me and prove how woke they are. I keep their secrets, their connections and their mistakes. I leave their cash for the Bucks and Does here.
Leonora: Those are for play. I’d use a better tool if I wanted to beat you. Don’t worry, He’s in Cambodia right now.
Jameison: Cambodia? That’s where my father is! I want to take over his company. It’s an empire, really.
“Empire.” The word brings up the memory of the days the ink on my back was fresh. There’s a ghost of pain tracing the words of the Latin phrase just under the crown, and then for a moment they are on fire. Talk of empires is big in wrestling. The ring is filled with kings and queens without a kingdom to call their own. Every fighter who carries a trinket or two for six months goes on about building a legacy. They think an empire is a word that looks good on FIGHT’s belt and SEB’s ass. Big Ticket Entertainment is fueled by the same nonsense, but Marx and I wouldn’t be in the business if we let principle come before profit.
True empires are about mastery, not marketing. They are built by the powerful and rest on the backs of people who carry them forward out of respect drenched with fear. Just a couple of years ago and a universe away, I had an empire. Every underworld organization in the entire Pacific Northwest answered to me by the time I was twenty five. They didn’t know my name, but they acknowledged my reign as Queen of the Emerald City.
The ink cools down and I’m pulled back to the moment.
Jameison: my father doesn’t think I’m strong enough to hold onto the company. That’s why he sent me here.
I came here tonight as part of a game on two continents to take WBI out of the running for a lucrative development contract in Phnom Penh. Harvey Marx’s relationship with TRIAD is of course perfectly legitimate work for BTE. He’s overseas doing what he does best. Making deals and attracting attention.
I’ve seen hundreds of pictures of Jameison Westmore-Bradley IV. There are still some things that only come through in person. There is something in this kid’s eyes that I had seen earlier in those of the head of the Mancini Crime family.
The chairman of Westmore-Bradley Industries has either underestimated his son or is trying to hold back a future threat.
I was going to stop at embarrassing the old man like we were hired to. That’s before I learned he was killing his son’s dreams out of cowardice.
My crew will break a Bradley soon, but not this kid.