Author Topic: THROWBACK THURSDAY - Nicolas Blair (Read 5148 times)

Christian Underwood · « **on:** February 27, 2014, 11:49:14 AM »

What is happiness?

Having exactly what you want.

What is sadness?

Wanting something you can't have.

What comes in between?

Nothing.

A Small Distraction

***

Are you looking for hidden messages?

So sorry. None in this story.

Oh, well, maybe one.

The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.

That sentence has every letter of the alphabet in it at least once.

Oh, she should be here any moment now. Miss DuBois is fond of being fashionably late.

The Brimstone Bistro is full of people tonight. Although perchance last it was viewed it more resembled a night club, the entire building has undergone a subtle change, and now it seems more to resemble a modern, high fashion dance club. Throngs of young, beautiful people move almost as a singular entity, a gigantic wave of rhythm, in time with the deep, techno music.

Standing in a back section, blocked off by a velvet rope, Nicolas L. Blair (newest member of Generation X Wrestling) stands flanked by a very dark, smiling black man wearing a red velvet suit.

I can go fetch her if ya's want, Masta Blair.

No need, Beez. I can see her now, she's descending the stairs. She's rather easy to pick out in this crowd, if I do say so myself.

Descending a staircase from the upper suites, the lady Angel?que DuBois does indeed stand apart from everyone else in the entire Bistro. Clad in a simple white dress, she picks her way through the throngs of people, quietly making her way over to the roped-off section. As she arrives, she smiles graciously at her hosts as she is ushered through the ropes.

Nicolas.

Miss DuBois, how kind of you to grace us with your presence. Of course, you remember Beez? He runs the club when I'm otherwise occupied.

Nice to see you, Maydam.

I wish I could say that I felt the same...Beez.

Ah, the ambiance! I love it so. Have a seat, Angel?que. We will dialogue. I've been informed that you're interested in questioning me about my recent wrestling debut and no doubt wish to be reveled by my dashing storytelling about my exploits.

Nicolas pulls out a seat at a small, candlelit table as Beez pulls some curtains, enclosing the area off from the rest of the club. Angel?que has a seat, and Nicolas joins her after lighting up a cigarette. Beez looks to Nicolas, who nods, and the short black man departs through the curtains.

Nicolas turns to Angel?que with a large, wide smile on his face.

Guess why I'm happy today.

I'm sure that the bruises on your face have something to do with it. Will you be keeping those?

Ah, my 'red badges of courage.' Of course I will, madam. They were rightfully earned in battle against the dread monster known only as Spike. And this face did end up a bit more pale then perhaps it should have been. I believe that the bruises add artistic color and flair to the overall aesthetics of my being. You being an artist among artists can surely appreciate the true beauty of the bluish-green color that's welled up here under my left eye.

Why are you playing games with these people, Nicolas? You took Spike's check for fifty thousand dollars and BURNED it. What do you gain from doing that?

Nicolas's eyes get wide in mock surprise, and he sets down his cigarette in the ashtray to raise his hands for dramatic effect.

Gain? GAIN?! Madam, I have relieved Spike of the horrible vice of an exorbitant amount of money! Money...IS still the root of all evil, isn't it? Or perhaps that's changed. Tsk, have the times surpassed me? And here I thought I was saving poor Spike from being forever corrupted by the heavy, evil burden that is fifty grand.

Nicolas lowers his hands, and a small smile crosses his face. He picks up his cigarette and puffs.

Or maybe I did get a bit genuinely angry at that crotch shot on the ropes. Whichever works, my dear.

Or were you deliberately baiting him to attack you later, Nicolas?

Nothing escapes your vigilant gaze, my dear. Yes, Spike DID attack me after I so kindly and lovingly removed the burden of huge sums of sin-making money from his back. Are you insinuating that I somehow appreciated or enjoyed the feeling of cold concrete being slammed into my face, Miss DuBois?

I am insinuating that you greatly enjoyed the fact that you incited him to perform such a dastardly action.

Nicolas smiles at her.

You know me too well. At any rate, the feud is done. For now. I've been propositioned by another young man in the federation, and I will be meeting with the lovely Mrs. DeFuria later today to suggest that we be paired up.

Nicolas, Blaze did not 'proposition' you. He complimented your ring work in a most innocent way.

Are you insinuating that the man is an..."Innocent?" Oh, that does bring a smile to my face. Thank you so much, my dear Angel?que. I am assured that my feud with him will prove to you that he is quite the innocent, sweet man-child that you presume him to be.

Angel?que doesn't answer. She simply leans back and regards Nicolas with a cool stare as he blows a smoke ring with great aplomb.

That look says you know something I don't know. But of course, that's not possible.

I just believe in the basic goodness of people, Nicolas. That's all. I think that there are many people, good people, in this world who are not, and can not be swayed by you. Not to greed, not to arrogance, not to anger or to hatred.

You always made me laugh, my dear.

He smiles in an almost...nostalgic way. Seemingly happy with the finish of this conversation, Nicolas taps out his cigarette and rises. Straightening his coat, he gives Angel?que a small bow, and prepares to open the curtains to depart.

Just as he turns to leave, though, he is instead disturbed by the full force of a man sailing through the air, knocking over the velvet ropes and tumbling through the curtains, landing practically in Nicolas's lap.

Oh, hello, hello, what is this?

Ah, SHIT, man! Get the FUCK off me! Fuck you, man! Get off me!

Ah, I'm so sssorry for inserting my body in the way of your flight. How inconsssiderate of me.

Nicolas's eyes narrow at the young man, who pushes and kicks at Nicolas as Beez and a few other suited club workers pull him off.

Sorry, boss...this guy here, he's been causin' lotsa trouble. I goes and catches him in the ladies bathroom wit' a set a binoculars, an' figured he wasn't there with your permission.

Get the FUCK off me, you assholes! I didn't do SHIT, and you can't prove anything! Leggo me or I'll fuckin' sue you, I swear!

Nicolas's eyes light up and he smiles. Almost instinctively, as he is pulled to his feet by Beez, he reaches into his coat and pulls out a cigarette.

Oh, boys, boys, put this one down. Take him over to the private gaming area. This is one I'd like to talk to. Beez? Phone.

The security guards unclamp the upset young man's arms and discreetly lead him through the club to a door marked "Private." Angel?que rises from her seat, slowly, with a suspicious look on her face as Beez hands Nicolas a cell phone.

Nicolas exhales through his teeth, causing a slight hissing noise as smoke rushes out of his mouth.

What are you planning, Nicolas?

He waves her off with his right hand as he puts the phone to his ear with his left.

Mrs. DeFuria. Nicolas. I'm afraid, my dear, that something has come up, and I will have to reschedule our meeting...

And the smile on his lips is bright and eager.

$\'user$

~The Rest is Yet To Come...Won't You Join Us?~

Oh, I love a good cliffhanger...

Where can I go now that I've gone too far? </div>

Some words intended to make you stop and think go here.

Usually. Sadly, this time there are none.

Why?

The sequel is never as good as the original.

There are standards to adhere to, after all...

Continuation

***

Nicolas loves you very much.

It's dark.

And smoky.

And the young man's coughs echo out, indicating that he's somewhere very large.

Poor lad, does the smoke bother you?

His voice echoes, and the young man blinks rapidly as suddenly a spotlight cranks up, engulfing the figure of Nicolas Blair in hot, bright light. Nicolas takes a drag off his cigarette, and exhales, just inches from his captive audience's face, causing the man to cough again. The spotlight follows Nicolas as he slowly walks around the interloper, inspecting him from all angles.

You were, as they say in your industry, 'casing my joint.' My guards here have found secreted in the women's bathroom you were hidden in, some number of cameras, film, and other various information gathering paraphernalia.

Nicolas stops in front of the young man, and blows smoke out his nostrils.

Fuck if that's going to be admissible in court, you prick. I'll just tell the cops it was a setup.

What's your name?

Call my lawyer.

Nicolas smiles brightly. He turns to a silhouette outside of the blinding glare of the spotlight.

I like this one.

Whateva you say, boss.

He turns back to the man, who blinks and tries to shield his eyes from the blinding light.

If you hadn't decided to take the time to install a camera in the women's toilet, you wouldn't have been caught, of course. Don't feel bad. It's not the first time that wanton perversion has cost someone a 'big score.'

Cigarette between his left fingers, he pantomimes the quote marks in the air at the young man.

And really, couldn't you find videos of that on the internet? 

I am going to KILL you, motherfucker-

No. Sorry. I'm afraid that that's not for you to do. Perhaps it will occur to you to take note of what appears to be two large muscular men, one flanking you on each side. And perhaps you will bear witness to my many handsome bruises upon the face, which may indicate to the observant person that I, myself, am no stranger to physical conflict. You also may perhaps note that I have at least six inches...in height...on you, as well as possibly forty pounds. And so...no. You are not going to 'kill.' Me.

Nicolas takes another drag off his cigarette.

Look, what the fuck is up here, okay? You fuckin' caught me. You gonna beat the shit outta me before the cops come, or something? Then get it the FUCK over with, and stop blowing your fucking smoke in my face!

Nicolas raises his eyebrows.

Even in a position of helplessness, giving orders. Hm. I admire your tenacity. Very well. I think you'll be useful. I'd like to illustrate a point for my companion, the lovely Ms. Angel?que, and I think that you could do nicely.

The young man eyeballs him, still flinching in the brightness of the spotlight, with distrust.

What the hell are you talking about?

Tsk. Such dreadful language. Distrustful, aren't we? Well, don't you worry yourself about that, sir. Rather, let me present to you...an opportunity. If you take what I offer, you stand to benefit a great deal. Does that sound appealing to you?

I ain't saying yes, I ain't saying no. What the fuck, are you organized crime, or something?

No. Sorry.

Nicolas leans in close to him.

Perhaps you will think I can give you anything you desire. You did consider robbing me, after all. You've had a look around this establishment. You must be under the impression that I live an existence of grandeur and wealth.

I don't understand.

Are you a gambling man, Mister Call My Lawyer?

What, you mean, like, blackjack? I can play blackjack.

....Oooh, I get it. You're one of those bored rich guys, aren't you? Catch a guy lurking around the joint, scare the beejeezus out of him, then play some high-stakes poker game with him? I win, I get my freedom? Is that the deal?

Nicolas turns again to address someone outside of the spotlight.

Oh, I like this one a LOT.

Stop this, Nicolas.

He turns back to the young man.

And that would be the aforementioned Angel?que. She has a patent dislike for my candor. Ahhhh...should I use smaller words? You seem a bit lost. I will spell it out for you. I am offering to play a game with you. Something with...reasonably high stakes. And I will be fair...more then fair, even. We will play two rounds for practice, and only if you feel confident, will we play the third round.

And if I win...?

Your exploits here prove that you desire money. Well, money and the sight of a woman's rear end uncovered, but we shall concentrate on the primary desire here. If you win, then I shall give you...oh, let's pick a nice significant amount of money. Beez?

For a brief moment, a second figure steps into the blinding light, as Nicolas's assistant hands him something. Nicolas deposits his cigarette into his mouth and puffs eagerly as he scribbles something. He tears off a check and hands it to the young man.

Fifty thousand dollars?!

You can't see it, but my companion Angel?que doesn't appreciate the dollar amount. I'm personally finding it very amusing, however. Yes, if you can best me, I will give you that check. You will be free to go. Actually, this transaction is on the lesser end of some deals I make, but I think for the sake of proving a point to my darling Angel?que, it will suffice.

And if I lose?

The man in the light gives the intruder a tight-lipped smile, and throws his cigarette butt on the ground. He grinds the ashes into oblivion with the heel of his shoe. Slowly, Nicolas Blair steps to the very edge of the spotlight, and leans over. His left hand reaches out, and his fingers slip into the long, greasy black hair of the interloper. He slowly pulls the head of his would-be thief close, until his lips grace the young man's ear. As his left hand strokes the greasy hair, Nicolas speaks closely and quietly to the young man.

The young man's eyes go wide, and Nicolas releases him. He steps back into the spotlight, still maintaining his bright smile. The young man blinks for a few brief seconds, but then regains his composure.

What kind of game do you want to play?

Nicolas's smile grows wider.

Something simple, and I assure you, I will give you every chance to prevail. Beez?

A hand reaches into the spotlight and hands Nicolas something.

Here you go, boss.

Here we are. Inspect, if you like.

Nicolas drops the small object into the young man's hands.

It's a dice.

Yes, we're going to play a dice game. It's very simple, actually. It's been played for thousands of years. We will both roll the dice, and whoever rolls the lowest number, wins. If there's a tie, you win. And, I shall roll first.

And, I can back out any time before the third roll?

Of course. Then we will simply let you go. You will profit none, of course, but the least I can do is offer you your freedom. Isn't that kind of me, Angel?que?

The young man rolls the dice over and over in his hand, weighing his options.

Fifty thousand dollars...and I can back out any time...

He holds the dice up to Nicolas.

Roll.

Nicolas smiles, and takes the dice between his forefingers. He shakes it gingerly in his left hand, and drops it to the ground. The tiny cube rolls in the confines of the spotlight, before finally shuddering to a halt. Nicolas stands back as the young man falls to his knees to inspect the die.

SIX! You rolled a six! I can't possibly lose this roll! Even if I tie I win!

So you don't want to back out of this first roll?

HELL NO!

Tsk, again with the harsh language.

The interloper grabs the dice with greedy eagerness, and barely shakes it in his hand before dropping it to the cold concrete. It spins to a stop, and he raises his head, a huge smile on his face.

A TWO! I WIN!

He pulls himself off of the ground and hands the dice to Nicolas.

Today is my lucky day, innit.

Luck is a concept conceived of by small minds to explain coincidence.

Roll.

Nicolas dusts off the dice, and rolls it in his hand for several seconds. He drops it lightly, and it spins on one corner a few times before bouncing off at odd angles and finally coming to rest. His opponent leans down on his haunches to inspect the dice.

Are you considering backing out?

Are you shitting me? You rolled a SIX..again!

Nicolas shifts back and forth on his heels, as if in slight displeasure of this occurrence. The young man scoops up the dice and, with a large smile on his face, drops it to the ground.

It would appear that you have rolled a six as well.

But...that still means I win, right? I win a tie?

Yesss...

Nicolas, smile extremely tight, reaches into the pocket of his suit coat and pulls out a cigarette. His opponent notes the movement, and runs his tongue across his teeth in anticipation.

One more roll...and I can back out after you roll, right? This is win-win for me! I can't lose!

Correction. If you walk away, you don't technically win, either. And you do want that money, don't you? Oh, you no doubt can practically taste the ink that's rapidly drying on this check.

The young man rises, and shoves the dice at Nicolas.

ROLL.

Nicolas's smile disappears, and he plucks the dice from the young man's hands. He pauses to inspect it a bit, in the bright light, and rubs it on his suit coat.

Your hands are all sweaty.

ROLL MOTHERFUCKER.

Nicolas blows a puff of smoke at the young man, and twitches his hand to shake the dice. Two sharp twitches, and the dice falls again to the ground. It spins to a halt, just at the edge of the bright spotlight, one half inside the circle of light, one half in the shadow. The interloper leans forward, on hands and knees to see what number Nicolas has rolled as Nicolas inhales some smoke.

And exhales again.

Well...?

Are you going to back out? Or do you take this one, final, true roll of the dice?

He inhales again.

And exhales.

Holy motherfucking God...

Again with the language. Dear sir. There is a woman present.

How droll, Nicolas.

The young man stands up, a huge smile on his face.

You rolled ANOTHER SIX! HA HA! I can not FUCKIN' BELIEVE THIS! I can't believe it! I came in here thinking I could grab five, maybe six grand from the door charge...and I'm gonna walk away with FIFTY FUCKIN' GRAND!!!

Nicolas, no emotion on his face, holds out his hand.

Shall we shake, then? Is this bargain a deal? One more roll of the dice, winner takes what we agreed upon?

Deal? DEAL? I don't even HAVE to roll! You just rolled a six! It doesn't matter what I roll, I WIN!

He reaches out, taking Nicolas's hand, and pumps it up and down vigorously.

Please don't...

Tsk, I'm afraid you've just disappointed my dear Angel?que. She really did think that perhaps you would just walk away. But then, fifty grand does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it.

There is no inflection in his voice, and the interloper sees as Nicolas's eyes flick from the dice to his opponent's handshake. The young man lets go, and scoops up the dice.

You better get that check ready, bastard...

The young man raises the dice up over his head and SPIKES it onto the ground with incredible force. The dice bounces up once, twice...and then jostles oddly until it falls just outside of the circle of the spotlight. The young man holds out his hand.

Gimme my check.

Aren't you curious as to what you rolled?

What the hell does it matter? You rolled a six-three times! You got lousy luck, bastard.

I told you-luck is an invention. And I wish to see the roll. I am a detail-oriented man. Beez, if you will? The house lights?

Sure thing, boss.

In a flood of light, suddenly, the entire room becomes visible. The young man looks around him, at the stark room....black walls, concrete floor, and only a few scant people watching him and Nicolas, and blinks a few times to clear his eyes. Nicolas taps some ash onto the ground as his opponent looks around.

It's over, give me my check...

I want to see the dice.

The young man spins around, scanning the floor. Finally, he sights where his spiked throw sent the dice...

It's over here. And I rolled....A ONE! OH, SHIT, I couldn't have ROLLED anything better! Now come on! Give me my damn money-we shook on it, dammit! Give it over!

He turns towards Nicolas, eyes wide in anticipation, as Nicolas purses his lips and inspects the scene. In the background, Angel?que looks away as Beez beams, a stark white smile spreading across his coal black face.

One? One? That's not what I see, friend...Perhaps it would occur to you to look again.

What the hell are you talking about? I rolled a....

He turns around, and drops to his knees in front of the dice...

No...that's not possible...

Rolled that last time rather violently, didn't we?

The dice...it broke in half....

Tsk...really should respect another person's property a bit more then that, dear sir.

It broke in half...right down the middle...no, no, no, this isn't happening...

And suddenly, Nicolas is behind him, towering over him, smoke trailing out of his mouth.

But it did. And both halves landed, face up. Which means, my new friend...you have rolled a seven.

The interloper stares down at the two broken halves of the die, at the six spots on one half and the single spot on the other. His breath comes in broken gasps.

No...impossible...it's...IMPOSSIBLE...

Nicolas throws his cigarette butt on the ground.

Impossible? No. Unlucky? Certainly. And now, my new friend...

His hand comes to rest on the young man's shoulder, as Angel?que turns away and leaves the room...

We must discuss the terms of payment on your wager.

And the young man's broken gasps turn into hollow, tearless wails as Angel?que closes the door behind her.

I believe she now understands my earlier point, at least. I can give a man every chance in the world...but the lure of vice is just too strong. Alas.

And Nicolas's men move towards the young man....

The young man's name is Adam.