I: Brotherhood, Honor and Violence

[Shawn Crowe]

The hour was a little while short of late, enough light showing from over the mountains in the distance to remind people of the soon-to-be-over day. Fiery red and orange was quickly giving way to the smoky blue and indigo of full-fledged night. From the vantage point offered, this view was offered by a pair of simple windows on the third-story of a building in a small border town somewhere between Tenessee and North Carolina just outside Cherokee. On one of the floors below the sounds of roaring engines and crunching gravel became louder then all at once shut down in one smooth sweep like the falling of dominoes. Quiet yet gruff voices emitted from the same directions coupled with heavy footsteps while a door opened and closed to the tinkling of an old-fashioned bell. Ascending the steps once, then twice, a group of five opened the door leading into the very room from where this view was offered and with a few soft clicks, a pair of dusty lamps shed light on the recently-cleaned room.

The first to step into view was Shawn Crowe, president of the Dead Men, the now-familiar kutte fitting well over his broad frame. He walked toward the windows in question while the others chatted amongst themselves, lowering the department store brand blinds over the windows to keep out prying eyes. The usually-calm, often-affable man had an odd tension in his shoulders and when he turned to face his fellows, his expression was set and cold. He inclined his chin toward Rory, who was pulling some old chairs from the corner and placing them around the large, hand-carved table in the middle of the room's right side. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than the usual for the confident biker.

Shawn Crowe: "...he call yet?"

A leather-backed chair is put at the head of the table and dusted off before Rory meets the stare of the president. He fishes the flip phone out of his pocket and opens it, glancing at the screen.

Rory McCall: "Nothin' yet, boss. You think we oughta wait for 'im 'fore we start?"

Shawn's gaze shifts between the other members of the group: the scarred Frederick and the massive Antonio and Darius, before re-centering on Rory.

Shawn Crowe: "Give him another ten minutes. It's a long ride for him."

Rory nods in understanding, dusting some of the remnants off his own kutte. The patches on the left breast of the piece read Initiate and Red Soul while the right side has but one, reading Treasurer. When he's finished the task there are seven chairs around the table. Darius, looking up from his conversation with Antonio, calls out to Shawn.

Darius Edwards: "Yo, Chrome! You got a plan in mind for these assholes come next Sunday? We ain't no wrestlers, man."

Shawn chuckles quietly at the large black man, but there's no humor in his eyes, which are cold as ice. The chill isn't directed at his brother, of course, but it's still prominent.

Shawn Crowe: "Neither are they. This isn't gonna be a match, though, Darius. It's gonna be a fuckin' fight. They can take their rules and regulations and shove 'em up their asses. We're walkin' into that place to deal out some vengeance. That's all."

Darius Edwards: "Shit like that I can get behind, brotha, but a plan for dealin' with it all wouldn't be a bad idea, ya feel me?"

Frederick Vance: "...plan?"

Seated on an old couch in one corner of the room, the hood of the jacket worn beneath his kutte up and over his head, the scarred would-be Child of Nephilim, Frederick, looks up a little. The shadows naturally mask most of his face but his attention is obviously on Darius.

Frederick Vance: "No plan's gonna make a lick of difference against these guys. Only things they understand are power and pain. Pain made them what they are. Power keeps them in line. Cut them off from Joshua, Maiko and the twins and they're just meat. Hurt them enough and they'll crumble."

That comment gets glances going between Antonio and Darius, the former shaking his head a little.

Antonio Murond: "You freak me out a little sometimes, homes. Sure you ready to step in against these guys?"

Frederick gets up, pushing his hood back, revealing his scarred features and cold expression.

Frederick Vance: "Much as I owe you guys for hauling my ass back to something resembling a normal life, I owe these clowns a beat-down. Trust me: I'll feel a lot better after we leave them laying."

At about that point, Rory's phone rings and he answers it quickly.

Rory McCall: "Yeah? Hey, we been waitin' to hear from ya. Twenty minutes out? Good...we'll see ya then."

Shawn gives Rory his full attention, to which the smaller man waves his phone with a grin.

Rory McCall: "He'll be here soon. Can't wait to see 'im again. We got any word from the boss-man?"

Truth told, Shawn had almost forgotten about that. The thought momentarily cuts through his intensity and he fishes out his own phone, sweeping through the messages. Lifting the device a little and squinting at it, he then nods and puts it away.

Shawn Crowe: "He'll be flying in in a day or two. Invited us to visit personally..."

He pauses for a moment.

Shawn Crowe: "...ALL of us."

A moment of silence passes through the room before the four besides Shawn continue tidying up the large studio-style room for the coming events. Shawn himself stays at the window, peering through the blinds and waiting for the last arrival to make their appearance. The scene cuts out at that point and returns a couple of days later to show the Dead Men roaring down the highway on their bikes. It's early morning as they tear a path down the interstate as it cuts through a semi-wooded area. Pulling into a rest stop, sparsely attended at this hour, they park their rides and scatter for a while. Shawn takes out his phone, remaining with the bikes along with Frederick, and places a call. After a few rings, someone picks up on the other end...female from the tone of the voices.

Shawn Crowe: "Hey, it's me. Didn't wake you up, did I?"

His tone isn't quite what one would call gentle but it's softer than usual, the kind even a hardass would affect if they were talking to someone important to them. There's a brief response which makes him smile a little.

Shawn Crowe: "Just now? How do you two sleep? No, don't tell me...I don't need those thoughts in my head."

Nearby, Frederick seems to know who Shawn's talking to and grins a little, making some of the scars more prominent. He pulls a pack of Marlboro's out of his pocket and takes one, offering another to Shawn who declines. Lighting up, the smaller man takes a deep drag and blows out a plume of smoke, looking off toward the few cars riding along the road on early-morning commutes.

Shawn Crowe: "Shame y'all couldn't make it, though. Was quite a night. Well, you two might be used to it, but it's off the beaten path for us. Still, he says he'll be around by the time we arrive down there. Should only be a couple days."

Another response from the other end commences before Shawn speaks again.

Shawn Crowe: "All right. Drop us a line if plans change. Take care, you two."

He hangs up as the rest of the group come up bearing coffee from inside the rest stop. Antonio takes a cigar from the pocket of his jacket and Shawn accepts the offered cigarette from Frederick this time as the smaller man lights up a second. There's a calm quiet among them as they handle their caffiene and nicotine for the morning. Darius speaks up after taking in a mouthful of black coffee.

Darius Edwards: "So...you know this ain't gonna change nothin' that's goin' on, right?"

Four sets of eyes turn to the massive black man, most importantly those of Shawn. He takes a long drag off his cancer stick and flicks the ashes to the pavement.

Shawn Crowe: "And?"

Darius Edwards: "Hey, don't gimme that look, brotha. I ain't changed my mind 'bout fuckin' these guys up on general principle alone, sayin' nothin' of what we owe 'em for more personal shit. But be real: what're we accomplishin' aside from makin' ourselves feel good and fulfillin' a contract?"

Shawn Crowe: "Aside from the paycheck and because it's our calling? Since when have we needed reasons other than those?"

Antonio Murond: "Don't go losin' your nerve, ese. We need our heads straight for this."

Darius looks between the two.

Darius Edwards: "My head's in the game, amigo, so don't worry none about that. What I'm sayin' is that when we do a job, shit gets settled every damn time. Some murdering punk gets put behind bars or six feet under and we ride off knowin' we made a difference. There ain't no comin' back when we do a job. But this ain't like that. McBride's just gonna find more people to use as human shields. We're just slowin' him down...not stoppin' him."

Rory McCall: "Since when are you the idealistic one? That part of your life is over, brother. You gotta keep your mind on the here and now."

Darius shoots him a look that has Rory quieting down but not backing up. Shawn steps in almost on reflex, getting the attention of Darius as only the president could.

Shawn Crowe: "He don't mean no offense, brother. We all still carry that sense of honor that we had in another life...don't we, boys?"

The rest save Darius nod in agreement.

Shawn Crowe: "But you gotta remember that this is outside our element. Just cause we go overseas and waste a dictator doesn't mean that everything's fixed. Just cause you save a man's life through an act of violence doesn't mean that someone else won't attempt the same with a different plan of attack. People we put behind bars get out of jail. People we put in the ground still got friends who want revenge. Nothing lasts forever. What's important is that we keep fighting those people whenever they show up."

Frederick steps up now, looking at Darius.

Frederick Vance: "No one expects us to end this forever. But we can still give them what they want by laying these guys out as a message to others like them. That makes a difference. What we do is the reason by people who chose the dark side shake when they hear us coming. This ain't no different, big man."

Darius Edwards: "It's weird hearin' you be the voice of reason considering what's goin' down, man."

Shrugging, the smaller man drops the remnants of his cigarette and crushes it under his boot.

Frederick Vance: "I've got a clearer eye now when it comes to this shit. We'll make a difference whether we see it right off or not. Just...keep your mind on punching these fuckers out. That's all we're there for. There's people after us who will continue the job once we're back on the road."

Shawn Crowe: "He's right, Darius. This so-called match lets us bring the old clubhouse back up to snuff and there's already a couple jobs waiting. Hell, this might even be fun."

Darius downs the rest of his coffee, crumples the cup and tosses it into the nearby trash can.

Darius Edwards: "Damn sure won't be for them."

Shawn Crowe: "Yeah, that's the point."

All five laugh at that, finishing up their morning constitutional before mounting their bikes and tearing off down the interstate again. Another cut and forward shift has all five of the Dead Men somewhat-formally standing before the camera, their game faces on at full mast. Of course, game faces for these guys usually meant someone was about to either get shot or hauled off to the cops, so to use the word intense wouldn't do it justice. This was just a fight they were heading for, though, so that made these expressions a little overkill.

But if it made the Children worry for even a moment...mission accomplished.

Shawn Crowe: "If you're expecting some grand monologues about what we're gonna do, why we're doing it and why anyone should believe we're capable...shut this shit off now. There's no sense in listing out why we're bad motherfuckers just to make ourselves sound cool or something, talking about who we've taken down or out."

Darius Edwards: "We'll leave that kind of bragging shit for people like Kyle Travis or Vince Jones. Yeah, we know who they are. We do our homework."

Shawn Crowe: "Point is, there's no reason to get fancy. People know who we are and what we do and they know why we're coming to Fearless. The only people who don't seem to understand are Joshua and his lap dogs. See, we're pretty sure that he, his little lady and the twins are gonna be staying FAR from the ring next Sunday night."

There's a bit of laughter between them all for a second.

Rory McCall: "Not that we blame them, but that's one of the reasons why his Children are going to get hurt, and badly, by us. They're sending a bunch of untrained animals into the pit to fight with trained, battle-worn beasts. That isn't logical. It's suicidal. But that's par for the course. As long as Joshua doesn't have to get his hands dirty, he won't...even if it would mean victory for his side."

Shawn Crowe: "We're not wrestlers. We're fighters. It stands to reason that these Children, if Joshua bothers to train them, could twist us in knots. So before they do that, we have to kick the shit out of them or punch their lights out. Simple in description but not as easy in practice."

Frederick, off to one side sitting on the back of a chair with his feet resting on the seat, looks up.

Frederick Vance: "We know what we're getting into and that we won't be walking over these guys. Most of our work is done on the streets or in some dive where a bounty is hiding out. It isn't organized combat with rules and regulations. The Children, as much as they're scum, are on their home turf. The short time I was with them, though, taught me a lot. I know what makes them tick and, as a result, how to take them apart. And I've shared that knowledge with my brothers."

Shawn Crowe: "Remember: Frederick survived your initiation, Joshua. He then escaped your funny farm out in the sticks. Everything you tried to inject into his head to make him your tool he has brought before us. And we're going to use it to tear you and your Children apart. If we were you, we'd stay far away. Worry about our associate Brody and how he's going to stomp the life out of you one scream at a time while you try to laugh it off like you always do."

Frederick Vance: "You won't have shit to laugh about when we're done. And if you think Fearless will be the end of your dealings with us...you're wrong."

Antonio Murond: "But that's for another time. Right now, we think it's your turn to talk back. Tell us that we're wrong, ese. Tell the world why we're goin' down at Fearless. Or don't. Your call. Talkin' ain't gonna be where this ends no-how so all this...just hot air. We know it and everyone else know it, but that's how you wrestlers do things."

Darius Edwards: "When the fight starts, that's when you'll see how WE do things."

Shawn steps ahead of his brothers, locking eyes on the camera.

Shawn Crowe: "But you're only going to see it once. Believe me when I tell you that one time will be more than enough."

They walk out of the shot, briefly showing a black flag with the Dead Men logo on it before the scene fades completely.