Post by johnmwhite on Jul 26, 2011 21:08:15 GMT -5
--So returning home late one evening through the deeply forested streets of Detroit (I guess the place really went to hell), John Michael White ended up in an encounter where he, a man rich enough to own his own international wrestling federation, a hotel and casino, his own law firm, a limo and have change left over to pay the insane insurance costs of anyone who gets anywhere near DreamKiller, somehow was driving a damn rental car all on his lonesome. Since this took place at night it could be convenient to just chalk it up to some bad cheese and a nightmare that had no bearing on reality and perhaps involve merely a shadow of a figure who does not actually exist, but John Michael White wakes in the morning at his super secret location with a quantum address and sees there is no car outside.--
John Michael White: Sigh.
--The rental car that this CEO, barrister and World Champion was driving himself like some schmuck is indeed still missing. That means whatever JMW encountered last night actually existed.--
John Michael White: I was afraid of that.
--Afraid he was; not afraid in the sense of feeling actual fear, but he did dread the possibility that yet another idiotic, brain dead lump of seething aggression that thinks himself some sort of super mutant monster of darkness was gunning for him. If there was one thing the lawyer hated, it was repetition. He also hated how he himself seemed to turn into some kind of gibbering idiot in the presence of these monstrosities, unable to string more than two words together without squawking out a swear word in between. And then there was the other bizarre traits, like the man who knew the darkside well and had barely been fazed after The Rac interred him in the grave suddenly cowering and quaking in his boots at the mere image of some disfigured freak who thought he was special. It was as if he became a completely different person...--
Andrea: Not yourself this morning?
--John Michael White is disturbed from his reverie by the nurse, slapping down a cup of coffee at the breakfast bar where the lawyer had been sitting, staring out the window.--
John Michael White: Hopefully I am...
Andrea: Still worried about last night? Ignore that guy, he's just a goofball. You've dealt with goofballs before.
John Michael White: Yeah, and I'm tired of dealing with them. Geez, all Posh had to put up with was people offering to bloody well help him run his fed. I've got drooling idiots who think they're magic always trying to bend reality to their will just to piss me off.
Andrea: Well, maybe you should take a page out of Posh's book.
John Michael White: Desert my post for weeks on end while the fed dies on the vine?
Andrea: No... but you could ignore people a bit more often. Don't let him get under your skin.
--The lawyer sips his coffee, smiling wryly.--
John Michael White: A little difficult to do when maniacs like this tend to literally jam themselves under my skin. Remember when that idiot tried to possess me?
Andrea: And you took him all the way to hell to make a point, totally blowing your cover and almost melting the city. Restoring reality was a headache for the Auditors, and what did that achieve?
John Michael White: Smug self-satisfaction?
Andrea: Nothing. The guy just totally blew off everything you did and showed him and chose to force reality through his own demented little filter. Don't waste your time and energy on him; just ignore him. If he shows up at the arena, book him in a match with someone who'll crush him, or someone you don't like, and it'll be someone else's problem.
--The REW World Champion nods at the sage advice from his nurse.--
John Michael White: Yeah, I suppose you're right. Thanks, and thanks for picking me up last night.
Andrea: No problem. You want to take the bike to the building today or do you want to go get your limo that you have a chauffeur for but were somehow too stupid to get him to drive you in your rental yesterday because you being a moron was convenient to the plot?
John Michael White: Yeah, yeah, no need to rub it in. Let's go pick up the limo from the garage.
Andrea: And then totally not notice that your chauffeur suddenly became 400 lbs and act like a moron who doesn't know what's going on as he drives you out to a secluded area and turns around to pulverize you?
--JMW snorts out a laugh.--
John Michael White: Yep, sounds good to me. Meanwhile you can turn out to be a weak and feeble woman because, you know, you're a woman and could not possibly be competent at combat or packing heat or something. Or maybe you'll just be too busy acting as an object while Aryan Franchise grinds on you, since he's so super hot and all that.
Andrea: Now you're getting the idea.
John Michael White: Ugh, I don't know what to do with this place any more. The only person remotely interested in making a splash is too stupid to communicate with, and everyone else is resting on their laurels.
Andrea: Oh that's not true... That Colt kid is all right.
John Michael White: That kid almost got the cops crawling up our ass. And no one seems to want to make an effort to impress their boss by taking him out, I've noticed.
Andrea: Well, maybe you need to sweeten the deal.
John Michael White: Put a bounty on his head? I could do that... Title shot up for grabs...
Andrea: And I bet I know one big fish that will bite.
--A sly smile rises on the lips of the lawyer. Let's see how that monster deals with somebody who's really packing heat.--
John Michael White: All right, but if he turns out to be a super human undead dark lord freak that can absorb bullets or some shit, he's fired. I'm not having a zombie on the roster - it's not kosher.
--And off they go to pick up the limo, riding the nurse's black motorcycle through the Detroit forest from an unknown location to an unknown location where the lawyer gets his cars repaired. Let's see if someone magically pops up to beat them up and look all imposing and cool!--
