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  • Bakkhos Champion??


    Matteo Carducci

    Recommended Posts

    January 21, 2021 - 2am

    @Thomas Gallo

     

    This isn't a good idea Gaspari…

     

    The frown knitted down hard as the dark Italian gaze flicked to Tom and then back to the head of Bakkhos. Arms were tightly folded over his chest as he leaned against the front of the bar eyeing Gaspari as the older man sat in the leather chair with his glass of whiskey resting on the arm. What the hell was he thinking!

     

    We 'ave a million clauses signin' away that the death of fighters aint our fault for a reason. We have no idea if both fighters would even walk out of the ring openin' night!.... hell dunno if ANY fighter walk outta first fight!

     

    Hands threw up in the air in frustration.

     

    And what if he accidently kills the opponent? Then we are the bad guys… and if he loses on the openin'  night??..... the "champion" o' Bakkhos defeated by a street fighter? Then what happens with our rep? Geez Boss… this is just a recipe for disaster.

     

    This was NOT what he had expected when he got the 1am call dragging his ass out from between a pair of extra long gams attached to one hell of a tight ass, a fact not apparent in his appearance as the slacks hung neat on his hips, the leather bomber still over his gray turtleneck, gun flashed as he gestured his frustration. Gaspari wanted to bill Tom as the Bakkhos champion and toss him out as the "fighter to beat" on opening night, help drum up business. The head of Bakkhos never did anything rash but damn if this didn't feel like a wild throw. Yet there the guy sat…smirking at the Senior Capo's complaint as he sipped his whiskey.

     

    The dark eyes met Tom's with a "come on…back me up here" expression.

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    He knew he should have brought Roderick. The full moon was in a week and Tom was seething more often than he wasn't this week. He didn't bother Roderick once he had received the summons. If Gaspari called, then it must be serious.

     

    Today had been a good day to this point. Shipments arrived when expected. Payments were received, orders came in...everything in the Thyrsus machine was running as smoothly as possible. This was good. Otherwise, Tom was afraid that he might have made some rash mistakes. 

     

    Everything bothered him. The phone rang too loud. The lights were too bright. Nobody moved fast enough. The rational part of Tom's brain knew that this was absurd. Little by little, though...piece by piece...calm and cool Tom was being replaced by this beast that dwells within him.

     

    He had been getting ready for a jog. He had discovered that physical exercise was helping him cope with the beast a bit better. That, coupled with Roderick's help...the rage inside was forever a passenger...however rarely the driver. The poor timing of Gaspari's call tweaked the beast inside. Annoyances skipped straight ahead to become offenses these days. Tom took a long calm breath and reminded himself of who it was calling and the importance of keeping this beast contained...lest he lash out in violence against someone who didn't deserve it or look for it.

     

    When Tom was let in, a low growl was allowed to escape his mouth before he caught himself. The stench from the silver in the Bakkhos rings poked at the caged monster inside. He exhaled sharply. He should have brought Roderick. 

     

    He listened to Gaspari's proposal of having Tom as a champion at Satyr Stadium with skeptical eyes. Tom was never known as one of the fighters amongst the capos. Matteo, if anyone, scrapped more than he likely ought to have. Matteo appeared to share some of the same thoughts as he protested.

     

    And what if he accidently kills the opponent? Then we are the bad guys… and if he loses on the openin'  night??..... the "champion" o' Bakkhos defeated by a street fighter? Then what happens with our rep? Geez Boss… this is just a recipe for disaster.

     

    Tom took a long moment before replying. Matteo had good points, but Gaspari had something in mind. Tom wasn't chosen randomly. With Derrick, Matteo, and a few others...Tom was one of the ones least likely to fight unnecessarily. Tom wondered why Gaspari had picked him out. Was it because he knew that Tom would heal soon after and likely have no lasting damage? The idea of a capo going through a grueling melee one hour...and be cleaned up and smiling at a business meeting the next would create an aura of power around Tom...and by virtue of that, Bakkhos. Would this become a regular thing?

     

    Tom was not pleased with this prospect. Tom's life thrived on order, structure...everything in its place. Another part of Tom seemed excited by this. Maybe this could be his new outlet for venting out the beast! It was certainly worthy of experimentation. If people were signing up to be his punching bag, maybe it would be worth a shot. He still had some questions though.

     

    I am honored that you would think of me, but may I ask why? The Family has many competent warriors...many of whom fighting is simply what they do. What brought your attention to me?

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    Fuck he should have stayed between those thighs. This was insane! And it didn’t help that clearly Tom was "agitated". Was a moon coming? He wasn’t really good at keeping up with that. Toni usually reminded him.

     

    At least Tom got that this was insane….. right?

     

    I am honored that you would think of me, but may I ask why? The Family has many competent warriors...many of whom fighting is simply what they do. What brought your attention to me?

     

    Mouth nearly gaped open at the Capo. Honored?.... he didn’t exactly sound like he was going to push back on this asinine plan.

     

    The head slid out of the chair with the fluidity of a feline, last of the liquor slipping between his lips before walking to the bar.

     

    Gaspari:…. They don’t need it….. you do…..

     

    As Gaspari set the glass into the sink behind the bar the Senior Capo was trying to digest this comment, dark Italian eyes flicking to Tom with a faint quirk of the brow. Needed it? That put a different spin. He should have known Gaspari had an "angle" here.

     

    Matteo was normally fairly observant. He knew the lycanthropes had a tough time near the full moon. But Tom wasn’t the only lycan the family was harboring….so why him. Brow remained faintly furrowed as hands shoved into the pockets of the dark slacks, gaze flicking back to Gaspari.

     

    So let's say we do this……. Ya know might turn int'a constant head hunt…….people comin' outta the woodwork to take 'im on.

     

    He already knew this was a done deal. Gaspari wouldn’t have drug him out of bed in the dead of night if it was a discussion.

     

    Fuck.

     

    Hip moved to perch on a stool at the bar, gaze flicking to Tom again as head shook slightly.

     

    Might bleed into every day huntin' him too… not just in the arena. Bring the crazies right to our doors.

     

    He knew Gaspari had thought of all this. But damn it needed to be said aloud.

     

    Gaspari:....yep

     

    And with that the head of Bakkhos grinned, saluted faintly "good night" and headed to the back offices leaving the Senior Capo frowning at the Capo. Shit this was fucked up.

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    Gaspari:…. They don’t need it….. you do…..

     

    He was right. It made sense to him. Tom nearly lunged at Matteo for arguing with Gaspari. Tom's temperament was getting worse. It was becoming harder and harder to remain calm, no matter the help Roderick provided when he was around. Still, he should have brought Roderick. 

     

    Matteo was correct. This was likely to inspire all sorts of additional conflict for Tom. The arena would be a good outlet. He always felt his best the day after transformations were over. He knew it had to do with still having that residual anger that abandons most lycanthropes after the change; however that exertion, that outlet cleared his head and he was usually at his best. 

     

    Those feelings of clarity were short-lived. It never took long before the mundane took over an the daily struggle resumed. Was Gaspari intentionally setting Tom up for unsolicited provocations from which he would have to defend himself? A steady diet of violence to keep the beast in check? If that was his play...it was either genius or insanity. Whether or not it works would prove to be the judge on that. It was an uncertain play...Tom didn't much like that. However, it was evident, Tom wouldn't be of any use to the family if current trends held. Change was necessary. With that change...certain risks were unavoidable. 

     

    Matteo...I think I know what he's suggesting. You are correct. I don't like it much either...but I don't see another solution. I don't speak of it much, but since the Event...things have been harder for me than most others that share the same condition. I'm no fool...I know you have noticed. The others in the family don't react the same way that I do. Timing is different, severity is different...because I am different. 

     

    Tom paused and walked over to pour himself a drink. Most in the family kept their demons to themselves, no matter how obvious it was what they were. A sign of pride or strength, or maybe just foolishness...Tom no longer had that luxury. 

     

    I believe Gaspari is looking to feed these head-hunters to me to bleed out some of the violence that is bubbling at the surface. As much as I hate to admit it...as long as I continue to live...violence is going to be my drug of choice.

     

    He raised his glass in a mock-toast to his new prison. He didn't like this change. Not one bit. He knew that didn't matter much, either. This was his life now...better to make the best of it. 

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    • 4 weeks later...

    This…….was……..insane.

     

    Blink was profound as he scowled at Tom still trying to come to terms with this completely fanatical plan. He got it…. but that didn’t make it less insane. Hand scratched in the curls that were starting to need a trim before the sigh slipped from his chest, hands dropping between his thighs as he pushed back onto the stool, feet perching on the rail of the bar.

     

    Matteo...I think I know what he's suggesting.

     

    Nostrils snorted softly.

     

    So do I…. dun make it a good suggestion…

     

    I don't like it much either...but I don't see another solution. I don't speak of it much, but since the Event...things have been harder for me than most others that share the same condition. I'm no fool...I know you have noticed.

     

    Yea yea yea…… still dun make it less insane an idea….. you know that.

     

    Dark brown watched the pour of liquor, his middle finger tapping the bar in front of himself to indicate for the man to pour him one as well. He probably needed a couple before he started thinking about all the potential impacts… disasters that this could bring them.

     

    I believe Gaspari is looking to feed these head-hunters to me to bleed out some of the violence that is bubbling at the surface. As much as I hate to admit it...as long as I continue to live...violence is going to be my drug of choice.

     

    'ey... I get that…. but this be like slappin' a neon "fuck with me" sign on ya back….you know that.

     

    Elbows rested on the bar as his head shook, clearly resigned to his fate as hands rubbed over tired features.

     

    Ya know I gotta advert ya as infected……cant let anyone signin' up for the first fight walk in without knowin'….

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    Tom listened to Matteo's protests with a solemn nod. He didn't like this any more than he did. Logically speaking, anyhow. Tom's life was going to get more tense, more complicated, more...interesting? It ticked all the boxes of being stupid.

     

    Paint target on Tom's back? -- Check

    Be a perpetual target for those seeking to one-up Bakkhos? -- Check

    Out publicly that Tom was a werewolf? -- Check ...although he wasn't sure how much of a secret it truly was. Those he did business with knew that already...well most of them anyway. His temperament was hard to hide, and mouths are always open. 

     

    There was a healthy level of pragmatism to Gaspari's words...and if anyone was mechanical and calculated about moves, it was Gaspari. Maybe this was an acceptable risk for the predicted rewards. He poured a drink for Matteo and slid it down to him.

     

    'ey... I get that…. but this be like slappin' a neon "fuck with me" sign on ya back….you know that.

     

    Tom nodded as he took a sip from his bourbon glass. He growled softly at Matteo's profanity piercing into Tom's ears like daggers. He was not in Thyrsus, so he kept his mouth shut. He wasn't thrilled in the slightest with having to deal with more people than he had to lately...although his mind was already spinning with ways to turn this into an opportunity. A boon in the dark. One fear he had, though, was that people would begin to forget his mind and only see the beast. He had established Thyrsus to the gem of Bakkhos that it is due to his shrewd mind and efficient intellect. Those with whom he dealt respected this. Being a cage-fighting werewolf may work against that. Unless...

     

    Unless Gaspari orders it. The Beast will not enter the arena. Not under any circumstance. 

     

    Tom looked Matteo dead in the face and the seas of fury and rage that burned behind Tom's eyes begged to leap forth. Tom didn't often make 'power-plays' or 'ultimatums' when avoidable. Those types of people were hard to work with. They didn't play nice with others when things didn't go their way. Tom was as flexible and amenable as would make financial sense. People knew when they were being dealt a generous hand when dealing with Tom. That made it easier for when Tom played hardball...they knew he wasn't budging. Always managing expectations.

     

    There was no question in Tom's eyes. Each sentence a statement. Tom believed that his beast would frighten even the most hardened veterans that have had to deal with weres. That could be another tool to leverage at a later date. The problem was, it could only be used once. He had to be careful with it. Best to keep the Beast locked away from the most eyes. The only living people, of whom Tom was aware, that have seen his Werewolf-form were Victor, Matteo, and Gaspari. He hoped he could keep it that way. Even his father knew of him...but since he changed like Tom...he never saw his son at his worst. 

     

    Ya know I gotta advert ya as infected……cant let anyone signin' up for the first fight walk in without knowin'….

     

    Tom nodded. He knew that, despite the audacity of it all, Satyr Stadium would be as fair as could be hoped. One thing Bakkhos had done right that no other mob family had done previously was that nearly everything appeared above board. There were no rigged games, thrown matches, or weighted dice. Even when the family has to pay out a lot of cash, the old saying remains true. The house always wins. So...even though Satyr Stadium was going to have more than its share of backlash upon opening, it would eventually be accepted and prove to be quite valuable. 

     

    Yes. As would be expected. No one will pretend to be a werewolf who isn't. Zombies are non-applicable... 

     

    Tom paused in thought a moment. He and Matteo had discussed this before...numerous times, with varying outcomes. Now was the time to press the issue one last time. 

     

    ...speaking of the infected. Are you planning on advertising Sheut Ka in the arena? Eris was very specific about the kinds of violence she'd like to indulge in if we were to run with them as fighters. She said as much a year ago and hasn't budged by a single syllable since. 

     

    Tom thought about that night often. It was a turning point in a lot of ways. Eris had opened Tom's eyes to a corner of the world that he had assumed existed but had no idea as to the breadth or scope. He still didn't quite see the point of the Sheut's insistence of hiding. On an individual level sure, but to attempt to obfuscate the entire existence of a type of infected seemed a stretch. In a world with dragons, werewolves, elves, and zombies...vampires are the only thing that didn't make the cut? No matter, it wasn't his problem to ensure the secret was kept. He only promised to keep his mouth shut as well as attempt to shut the mouths of some others.

     

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    This was seriously stupid. He got it…. But that didn’t make it any less stupid.

     

    Fingers caught the sliding glass with ease. Rim paused at his lips as he stated the obvious regarding the "fuck with me" sign that the lycan was going to be wearing from now on, half the glass knocking back afterwards. Tom's nod didn’t make him feel any better. Just meant the Capo knew it was as insane as he did.

     

    Unless Gaspari orders it. The Beast will not enter the arena. Not under any circumstance. 

     

    Blink was pronounced as the glass dipped from his slightly agape lips before the snapped response came.

     

    Like I would fuckin' let ya….

     

    Rest of the glass vanished down his throat before it was slid back to Tom for a refill.

     

    Listen, I'm not stupid. I have no intentions of lycans fightin' on full moon cycles… near 'em perhaps for a more aggressive fight, but I don’t need full on werebeasts in my cages.

     

    Fingers pushed his bangs back and slid over his head as it shook, eyes meeting the burn of the Capo's with equal sincerity.

     

    Turn loose two animals and there aint no refereein' gonna happen which Satyr has rules. Only way to stop that fight before death is to pump 'em both full of elephant tranqs and frankly I don’t have enough stock to do that.

     

    Even close to the moon would be insane. He had seen lycans be very….. animalistic… in their human form around that time. They tended not to listen well.

     

    ...speaking of the infected. Are you planning on advertising Sheut Ka in the arena? Eris was very specific about the kinds of violence she'd like to indulge in if we were to run with them as fighters. She said as much a year ago and hasn't budged by a single syllable since. 

     

    Brow quirked at the man. He wondered if the Capo didn’t know. As they remained in shadow and secret, It wasn’t something that was discussed openly within Bakkhos, as a matter of fact very few family members knew about them. But with Tom having struck up a weird "relationship" with that woman, he should at least know.

     

    Listen, while I couldn’t really give a shit about the woman's threat, we have Sheut within the family… I wouldn’t out them, nor would any of the Bosses. Last thing am gonna do is be so stupid as to advert them for Satyr.

     

    Finger tapped the side of his glass for a refill.

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    Tom nodded as Matteo confirmed what Tom had already knew. He was sure that Matteo had enough sense to not put two transformed weres in the cage. He hated to state the obvious...but it was one of those issues he couldn't leave to chance. He raised his glass in apology for having to say something so obvious. He was sure Matteo understood. 

     

    When Matteo mentioned other Sheut within the family...Tom had figured out a few since he started working with Eris. It was never important to him, so he paid them no mind. It might be worth knowing exactly who at some point...but for now it was not important. When Eris asked him about Sheut Ka in the arena again...he'd be able to say that he heard it from the horse's mouth itself. 

     

    When Matteo tapped on his glass for a refill, Tom looked the man in the face and quirked an eyebrow with a hint of a grin.

     

    You couldn't afford me as your bartender.

     

    Tom topped off his glass and slid the bottle over to Matteo. 

     

    Well...if there is no getting around it...how can we make the most of it?

     

    He was referring back to his new role as Champion. He was obviously not thrilled with the prospect, but there was no sense brooding over the unchangeable. Besides that...he almost looked forward to it.

     

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    You couldn't afford me as your bartender.

    Smirk lit his lips as a brow quirked.

     

    I have been told I pay well…. But ya aint my type.

     

    Bottle was caught mid-slide and his own glass filled near the top.  The bottle set back towards the inside of the counter. Matteo wasn’t a heavy drinker, just felt like he needed a double tonight.

     

    Well...if there is no getting around it...how can we make the most of it?

     

    Grunt was soft and resigned as the glass came to his lips, a good swallow vanishing before he spoke again.

     

    We advertise the fuck outta ya….. banners on the side of the stadium with your ugly mug on them….  Big gold letters underneath spellin' out "CHAMPION"…. enough to in ya face push so that we push buttons…

     

    Glass hit his lips again before chuckling.

     

    'course half 'em be the kinda buttons making you a target and the other half be buttons drawing in the big and rowdy crowds.

     

    Glass rolled in his palm as his thumb slid along the rim.

     

    Not had a lot of luck getting strong recruits for the first fight…. sad thing is Gaspari is probably right in pickin' a Bakkhos to headline. People were waitin' to see what it would really be like… if it’s a hoax or not….

     

    Rest of the glass vanished past his lips before he turned it upside down and slid it down the bar to Tom so he could put it in the sink. Hand scratched over his head once more.

     

    You realize this is goin' t' be a total blood sport right? The audience is going to be looking for gladiator games… not a little boxing match….

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    We advertise the fuck outta ya….. banners on the side of the stadium with your ugly mug on them….  Big gold letters underneath spellin' out "CHAMPION"…. enough to in ya face push so that we push buttons…

     

    Tom grunted. He didn't like that aspect of it. He disliked being a spectacle...an exhibit. He supposed it was his price to pay for the outlet afforded him by the arena. Didn't mean he had to like it. He didn't. Still...the extra fame and notoriety could be leveraged for the business too. 

     

    Yeah...that is probably best. I. Hate. It. But I get it.

     

    Not had a lot of luck getting strong recruits for the first fight…. sad thing is Gaspari is probably right in pickin' a Bakkhos to headline. People were waitin' to see what it would really be like… if it’s a hoax or not….

     

    Tom nodded. Gaspari always seemed to have his finger on the pulse of the world. Sure this would help Tom with an outlet...but no decision ever served just a single purpose with him. Gaspari was always optimizing. 

     

    We'll be sure to make it count. 

     

    You realize this is goin' t' be a total blood sport right? The audience is going to be looking for gladiator games… not a little boxing match….

     

    Tom's eyebrows furrowed as he glowered at no one in particular. He looked up to Matteo and nodded.

     

    I'm counting on it. I don't know that I could restrain myself to a simple boxing match.

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    He smirked at the grunt from the Capo at his mug being sprawled three stories tall on a building. As a whole Tom had always been fairly private. This was flipping that on its head. He was about to be a very public figure in New York…. potentially much further if Satyr became the equivalent of the Roman Gladiator games that Gaspari seemed to think it would.

     

    Yeah...that is probably best. I. Hate. It. But I get it.

     

    This time the chuckle actually percolated up out of his chest.

     

    'ey…. think of it as a live commercial fer Thyrsus….I mean ya never goin' to get a more captive audience.

     

    The mischievous grin was almost boyish on his features.

     

    We can make you a special spandex suit…. ya know…. with advertisin' patches all over it….Thyrsus logo on the back….

     

    He was kidding of course but knew he would get that miserable scowl from the Capo which only made the smirk get bigger.  He wasn’t kidding however, about the event needing to be gladiator games and not a boxing match.

     

    I'm counting on it. I don't know that I could restrain myself to a simple boxing match

     

    Good…. cuz I doubt whomever I can rope into being your opponent will hold back either….

     

    Fingers scratched over his head once more. An opponent. That was the next thing he had to get crossed off his list. He would have to get those banners up on the stadium immediately, get some chatter going to hopefully rope in a good candidate.  Opening night would be worthless if the fight lasted a minute and a half.

     

    Don't got much time to get this thing ready.......

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    Tom groaned and shook his head as Matteo made jokes about advertising and spandex. With elbow on the bar, Tom rested his head in his hand as he allowed a small, resigned smile.

     

    “You are enjoying this way more than you should be.”

     

    When Matteo put on a more serious tone, Tom rejoined him.

     

    “Good luck finding an opponent who is familiar with the family. I’m afraid that my…reputation may lead to some difficulty.”

     

    Tom wasn’t wrong. Everyone who has ever dealt with Tom has either loved him or been deathly afraid of him. Usually both. His enemies stay clear. His friends love him…but tread carefully. The only likely challenger would be someone who didn’t know any better…or who did and sought to challenge the strength or Tom and Bakkhos. Too many unknowns for Tom’s taste.

     

    A thought occurred to Tom. He was sure Matteo had thought of it already, but he wasn’t aware of the specifics, so he had to ask.

     

    “If a challenger steps up…what do they win?” Tom then smirked slightly. “What do I win?”

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    He couldn’t hold back the rich chuckle that bubbled up in his chest as Tom groaned at the spandex reference. 

     

    “You are enjoying this way more than you should be.”

     

    Maybe a little….. but ya gotta admit… be a vision in canary yella tights…

     

    Smirk was wicked as he glanced sideways at the Capo to be sure nothing was thrown at him. Tone went serious again as despite the fresh opening to poke fun at their situation, neither could shake the feeling that this was still a terrible idea. Brilliant…. but terrible.

     

    “If a challenger steps up…what do they win?.....What do I win?”

     

    Brow quirked at the man.


    You planning on losing?

     

    Smirk shot back at Tom.

     

    They get bragging rights that that they beat yer ass….. and a cash prize… haven't set that yet….

     

    Hands slid in his slack pockets as he smoothly rose from the barstool, the impish grin back at the Capo warned responses could not be trusted to be serious.

     

    And yer ass…. IF you win…. you get perty tags on the bottom of your three story banners on side of the stadium declaring yer record 1 and 0…..

     

    Huff through his nostrils was teasing…

     

    And that’s it… ain't forkin' any cash over to your ass….

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    Maybe a little….. but ya gotta admit… be a vision in canary yella tights…

     

    Tom emitted a low growl...but his smirk betrayed it. Matteo often flirted with the boundary of provocation and jest. In many ways, Tom and Matteo were brothers. 

     

    A vision...we can call it that. A dream, really. That's all that will ever be. 

     

    Tom's smirk showed the joke, but his eyes allowed no room for debate. When Matteo explained the prize and asked if Tom planned on losing, Tom chuckled openly. This idea was terrible. Or it was genius. Knowing Gaspari, it was genius...however it still felt...dangerous. Matteo and he were on the same page regarding that, it seemed, however they'd do their best to make it work. 

     

    No, I do not plan on losing.

     

    Tom finished his drink with one last pull and set the glass down. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shook his head in resignation and added. Just don't insult me. Make the purse big. 

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    A "pft" escaped his lips as the Capo growled at him. Matteo didn’t put off easily, especially by anyone in the family and Tom was no exception… lycan or not. Besides, Tom knew not to take the Senior Capo too seriously.

     

    A vision...we can call it that. A dream, really. That's all that will ever be. 

     

    Smirk lit his own lips, wondering if the guy got the Wolverine reference.

     

    I swear Tom… one of these days gonna get some pixie to zap yer ass into a fluffy purple puppy….. just so you can get cuddled ta death…

     

    He couldn’t help the jibe, smirk broadening a bit.

     

    No, I do not plan on losing.  Just don't insult me. Make the purse big. 

     

    Head shook as he rolled his shoulders.

     

    Nah… gotta be big to pull the players in. Probably toss in an elite car from the family stock as well, something reinforced…..flashy…

     

    Groan came half heartedly as he added…

     

    ….expensive.

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    Expensive. Yes. Expensive is good.

     

    A smirk spread across his face. 

     

    You know...that Barracuda would be a nice prize...for the winner. What do you think about that...bub?

     

    Tom know...everyone knew...that car was something he loved more than anything else...probably anyone else. If there was a way to cut deep...it was to mention that car. He stood up and put his glass behind the bar.

     

    Think about it. Could be fun. After all...I am the best in the world at what I do, but what I do isn't very nice. 

     

    Then Tom clapped Matteo on the shoulder as he left. It as time to grab a few hours of sleep before tomorrow's calamities presented themselves.  

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    You know...that Barracuda would be a nice prize...for the winner. What do you think about that...bub?

     

    Scowl at the man was instantaneous.

     

    Fuck you Tom.... gotta better idea.... lets put up that little liquor store of yers huh?

     

    Think about it. Could be fun. After all...I am the best in the world at what I do, but what I do isn't very nice. 

     

    Smirk returned as he was slapped on the shoulder. The shrug was nonchalant as he slipped off the bar stool to head out with the man. He had a pair of long legs waiting for him back at his pad that he wanted to get back to before he caught a few hours sleep.

     

    'ey. At this point for all I know ya fight like a pansy in the ring and I'm gonna lose my shirt in the whole endeavor.

     

    Wink teased as he headed out. He had signs to get made tomorrow and an upgrade to their adverts to make. Time to push this thing.

     

     

    ~Fin~

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    • CURRENT RESONANCE DATE

    • RESONANCE - 18+ 3/3/3

      • A modern/fantasy, intermediate+ collaborative writer's rp. Caters to an experienced player base (25+) with a slower, more relaxed pace.
    • HELP GETTING STARTED? TRY A CANON!

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