Warning: This episode deals with sensitive topics and is intended for a
mature audience. Reader discretion is definitely advised.
Chapters
- Team is a Four Letter Word
- Two weeks later
- Bridal Path Party
- Jail Break Broke
- The Economy of Second Chances
- Twelve years ago
- Sooner or Later?
- Like Father, Like Son
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I'd like to point out that it was the incredible Gary Sinese Foundation that brought the issue of Veteran's rights to my attention. I've always had little respect for those who'd forget the great contribution made by those who've risked life and limb to defend those values that so many of us espouse. Perhaps the true measure of one's principles are by that for which they'd risk their life.
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Because Barris told me to put it here. If I didn't, he said he'd walk. Geez. Stardom really gets to some people's heads. Maybe I could kill him and bury his heart beneath the floor boards! Or I could encase him in behind a brick and mortar wall, for shaming my family name of Amantillado!
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Shhhh! Digital Media Presents:
The Butterfly Dragon - Heroes of our Own: Reimagined
by Brian Joseph Johns
Episode 10: The Burden of Proof
Team is a Four Letter Word
Twenty-four years ago
King City (north of Toronto), Ontario
Canada
Gus Glennard, a tall muscular athletic Caribbean male, twenty-four years
of age and approaching the peak of his career performance exited the
elevator in his best silk suit. The top buttons of his shirt were undone,
revealing a silver chain and other bling that very effectively broadcast
his status to those around him.
His hair was shaven, almost to the skin, cropped artistically at sharp
angles to appear stylish and hip. Some onlookers out of his earshot might
have joked that they were graffiti, but only if they were certain he
couldn't hear them. A look that had kept him near the top during his time
as a brand sponsor for several sports related clothing franchises. That
was long before the issues facing him now and the very reason for which he
was also trailed by another man in a suit. Another Caribbean fellow,
wearing a suit and wielding a briefcase, though the top three buttons of
his shirt were done up, and there upon rested a necktie, and a gold clip.
He trailed Gus, walking just behind him since having left the elevator and
slowly catching up with him as they approached the front door of the front
doors to the offices of NORWOOD ENTERTAINMENT HOLDINGS. Gus grabbed the
handle of the glass door, already eyeballing the secretary beyond as his
lawyer caught up with him.
"Remember what I said, bro. This ain't the little leagues, and you're in
some deep sh#t this time," Adio addressed Gus firmly.
"Look Adio, you ain't my father so don't try to be him. Just watch my
back, and jump in if I need the help of your legalese. A language I don't
speak, brother," Gus responded to Adio, his eye still on the twenty-nine
year old receptionist.
"And how are you today Sugar? You're lookin' fine," Gus smiled at her
flirtatiously as she slid the log book over to Gus.
They're already in there, waiting for you," she responded to him, daring
not to look at him directly.
"What? You too? Come on, don't let that press get to you. I'm nothing like
what they're saying. Last time I came in here, you were nothing but
smiles. I get some negative publicity, and I'm the hot potato, am I?" Gus
asked her.
"Your words, not mine," she responded, once again not daring to look
at him.
"Gus. Don't keep them waiting. If you do, they'll assume that you don't
care and that could hurt our position..." Adio pressed him.
"Well I don't care, but I do care about this wonderful little lady here,"
Gus didn't get her signals.
"Its into Mr. Tierner's office, or security. Your choice?" she picked up
the phone and was ready to dial security.
"Alright. We're cool," Gus got up and made his way over to Tierner's
office door, opening it and stepping in. Adio followed behind him.
"Gus. You made it. You know Mr. Beldam here from the firm," Tierner
introduced their legal representation.
"Terd is it?" Gus turned to the company lawyer, smirking ever so slightly.
"Todd, but you can call me Mr. Beldam. Ahhh, Mr. Uruti I assume," Mr.
Beldam handed his card to Gus' attorney.
Adio pulled one of his own from the breast pocket of his blazer and handed
it to Mr. Beldam.
"So, I think we should get this started. I'm a very busy man and we need
to get this thing out of the way," Tierner said to the other three men,
gesturing to the seats of the table around which they were about to be
seated.
"Gus. This has been a very difficult situation for us here at NORWOOD. We
know that you've been a great contribution to the team, and all of the
other players have nothing but good to say about you... except for that
one thing and you know what that is..." Tierner began, already broaching a
very difficult topic.
"My body odour? Man, you've got to see the sunshine through the clouds,
you know what I'm saying? That right there is an sponsorship opportunity.
I could be the new poster boy for Irish Crisp Body Wash you know," Gus
said both brashly and indignantly as if hiding an inside joke of some
kind.
Tierner laughed, though unamused by Gus' brashness.
"No. I'm talking about you getting nabbed with a hundred grams of coke,"
Tierner looked Gus square in the eyes as he spoke.
"You know, being back here in the office all the time, you have no idea
about the pressures there are out there. A man needs a way to blow off
some steam every once in a while. You and your good old boys here, you
have your scotch on the rocks. The fans of our sport in the good old
CFL? They've got hot dogs and beer. Me, who is out front there and making
your money for you, I got a little bit of coke, and you're all bent out of
shape. I thought we were a team here. I get a little bit of negative
press, and you're already jumping on me like I was yesterday's news..."
Gus leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table.
"Technically speaking, you were yesterday's news. And the night before,
and the night before that, all the way back to two weeks ago, when you
were first nabbed," Mr. Beldam explained to Gus.
"You're implying that my client is using coke. My client was arrested and
is charged with possession and no determination has been made or is
implied by his possession of said substance. He could have been carrying
it for someone else, and the crime is that it was in his possession and
not that he was using it," Adio spoke up for Gus.
"We went through this last season Gus. Do you remember?" Tierner
confronted him, not even looking towards Adio to acknowledge his response.
"I remember once again, that my team brothers, a contradiction in terms I
might add, conspired to force me to go to rehab, which I did. You secretly
arranged for me to have a blood test at the facility, and then used that
to ascertain as to whether I was using it or not. Seeing as that test
turned out to be positive, back then, you could assume that I was using.
That was then, this is now. As my lawyer slash brother so admirably said,
I could have been carrying that substance for someone else. There is at
this time no indication that it was for my use, and the terms of my
contract state that in order for my contract to be overturned, it must be
proven that I am using said substance, as per the renegotiation of my
contract last time. Let me ask you this. Have you ever gone to the liquor
store to pickup a bottle of whiskey for one of your friends?" asked Gus of
Tierner.
"We're not talking about me..." Tierner was quick to respond, and Gus was
as quick to react.
"Answer me. Have you?" asked Gus again.
"Well... yes as a matter of fact, I have," Tierner responded.
Adio interjected from this point.
"Mr. Tierner? Would you be guilty of drinking and driving if you'd have
been pulled over, and they'd found a bottle on your person?" asked Adio of
Tierner.
"No. Not at all. If I hadn't had a drink, then no," Tierner responded,
very sure of himself.
"Then my client isn't using coke, if you follow the same logic," Adio
added to his argument.
"Meaning, you have no grounds to terminate my CFL contract. I'm playing
whether you like it or not," Gus leaned back in his seat, now feeling that
he was fully in control.
Tierner looked to Mr. Beldam, who returned the glance and then opened his
briefcase, pulling for a number of contracts which he'd laid on the table
before him.
Each one of them had the word: CANCELLED - NOT FOR RENEGOTIATION stamped
across them in blue ink.
"What are these?" asked Gus, suddenly nervous as he checked the contracts.
"Those? They're your sponsorship deals. You had seven deals, and you lost
all of them thanks to the negative publicity. They all cancelled. Every
single last one of them, and according to your contract, if you for any
reason, lose at least fifty percent of such deals during the course of
your contract with NORWOOD HOLDINGS, your team contract must be
renegotiated, with the option for management to terminate your contract
once and for all," Tierner said to Gus, then looking to Mr. Beldam,
and finally Adio.
Gus looked to Adio, who looked to Gus and shook his head negatively.
"You can't do this to me!" Gus leaned forward, almost ready to jump across
the table at Tierner.
"Tell me, Gus. When we bring those young fans into the pen to meet the
team. They're kids. Between ten and sixteen years of age. Young people who
look up to you. Some of them don't have fathers, but up until recently,
they had you. Do you think that I would allow you to look at those kids
after their having seen you on the news like that, and for those charges?
That's not what we're selling here. You were something more to them, and
you blew it," Tierner said to him with a look of disgust and dismay on his
face.
Gus looked to Adio, who once again nodded negatively.
"There's nothing I can do about this, but can we at least procure a month
of his salary to help him until this is over?" Adio requested on the
grounds of good conscience.
"No. He made his bed. He's got to sleep in it," Tierner said firmly to
Adio and then looked once again to Gus.
"Lets go Adio. Team is a swear word to these kind of men," Gus stood up
and headed for the door.
"If there is any change of heart with regard to this situation, I'd kindly
ask that you contact me rather than my client, as he'll be needing time to
recover, and we might be able to come to a more productive and amicable
agreement. A good gentlemen," Adio said to Tierner and Mr. Beldam, then
following Gus out through the same door he'd left moments earlier.
...
Two weeks later.
Gus sat in the backyard of his posh home in the suburbs of Toronto. It was
the early evening, and he was wearing his favourite shorts, a button down
Hawaiian shirt and a pair of sunglasses, staring off across the pool and
towards the garden, wondering how long his kingdom would remain.
A light skinned woman wearing a scarf over her hair and a pair of
sunglasses to hide her identity, wandered in from the house and into the
backyard. She stepped out through the double door, finding Gus relaxed and
quiet on his favourite reclining chair. She snuck up behind him and gave
him a kiss on the top of the head.
"How's my babe doing?" Gus said from beneath his sunglasses.
"Good. My card got declined today. Wanna talk?" she informed him, and then
sat on the arm of his chair.
"Everything's going to be fine. I was injured during a practice and I
probably won't be returning to the field again for some time..." Gus lied
to her.
"This wouldn't have anything to do with your getting arrested a month ago,
would it?" she asked him.
"Laurette, I said everything is going to be alright, and I mean it. F#ck
the news. Don't pay them any mind. Just stick with me, and we'll get
through this, alright?" Gus said to her, pulling her closer to his chest.
"If my account is empty, then how's yours? Don't forget that we have bills
to pay. I don't want to live like this Gus. You're on the top for four
months of the year, making more than what most men make in ten years, and
then you're at the bottom for six months, spending what most men make in
ten years. The rest of the year, we're broke. I don't want that. Not from
you, not from anyone. If these rumours about your habit are true, I want
you to get help for it. Right away, or I'll leave. If you don't have that
problem, then prove to me that you can keep the momentum our lifestyle
needs to survive. If I run into the same embarrassment with my account
next week, I'm going to leave and go stay with my parents. Understand?"
Laurette informed him, running her fingers through his hair.
"Yeah. I understand you, babe. We'll get this done," Gus responded.
"I've got an appointment at the spa tonight. I'm going to need a bit of
cash just in case. Could you?" asked Laurette of Gus.
"Fine. I'll leave it on the kitchen counter for you before you leave," Gus
said to her as she stood up.
" Alright. I'm going to go get cleaned up and ready for that. Make sure
its there, please," Laurette requested of him, then leaving him by the
poolside as she went in and made her way to the master bathroom.
Gus fell asleep for what seemed an eternity, only to be awakened by his
phone, which rang from the table beside him at the poolside. Gus grabbed
it and examined the phone's screen, checking the caller's name and the
time.
"Unknown?" he remarked to himself with regard to the caller's name and yet
glad to see that only twenty minutes had gone by since Laurette left him
for the upstairs.
"Glennard here," Gus answered the phone.
"Mr. Glennard? Its Constable Casek speaking, have you got a moment?" the
Constable asked him.
"What do you bastards want? Haven't you already got enough of me?" Gus
responded to the constable.
"I'm sorry to hear about NORWOOD cancelling your contract. I thought you
might like to know that we had nothing to do with that," Constable Casek
smiled mischievously on the other end of the phone as he lied to the
former quarterback.
"So, what the hell are you calling me for now? You want me to donate to
your pension fund or something?" Gus said sarcastically.
"Funny you should mention it, but we'd like to help you. You know, do away
with all of the bitter feelings there are between us and at the same time,
give you an opportunity to undo the harm those charges might have caused
you, while helping us a bit to take out the trash. You wouldn't happen to
be interested, would you?" asked Constable Casek of him.
"Help you? F#ck no. Make some money and lessen the charges? Doing what?"
Gus responded.
"You have some former friends near the Bridal Path. You know, the kind of
people you used to hang with when the party was hearty. We need someone
they know. A big guy that can handle himself, to get in there and get
close, and at the right time, to make a ruckus. Make a scene. Enough
so to scare the other guests and to get us in there, and close enough to
do what we gotta do," Constable Casek explained to Gus.
"Which is?" Gus asked him quizzically.
"Like I said. Take out the trash," Constable Casek repeated to Gus.
"Who, Where, and how much do I get?" asked Gus.
"Reavie Bells," the Constable replied.
"The singer?" Gus confirmed.
"One and the same. At his home, and we drop the charges against you, and
we'll give you 10K if you get us in there," Constable Casek explained to
Gus.
"When?" Gus asked.
"This Saturday. He's having a party. There's going to be some big names
there, not to mention some trash, but that's for us to know and you to
find out. Are you in?" confirmed the Constable.
"I'm in. Where do we meet and when?" asked Gus.
"Saturday. We'll link up at four in the afternoon. Meet me in Fran's on
College Street. I'll be the one with the blue bowler's hat. Just come to
the table and we'll take you somewhere else and brief you. Get you ready.
All you have to do is go, they'll recognize you and trust you. On cue,
you're going to make a situation that will get us in the door, and we'll
do the rest. Understand?" Constable Casek confirmed with Gus.
"I think I got it. I'll see you then," Gus replied to him, but by that
time the line was already dead.
...
Fran's was the kind of restaurant that appeared exactly the same from the
interior during the day, as it did during the night, and regardless of the
time of day it was in Toronto. The interior of Fran's was
always night, and the rest of the city was its
corresponding day.
Gus had parked his signature moonlight blue Camaro in a parking garage
near College Park and made his way on foot to his point of rendezvous
inside of the dark, all-day breakfast restaurant. When he spotted the blue
bowler's hat sitting in the center of one of the patron's tables, he sat
himself down in the booth seat and spoke.
"So, are bowler hats supposed to be some allusion to fiction? Are you like
trying to freak me out with psyops or something?" Gus asked as he arrived
at Casek's table in Fran's.
"Ha! That's a good one. Tell me this. Would I truly be a pro if you'd
figured out my dance before you'd even arrived at my table?" Casek picked
up his bowler's hat from the table and placed it upon his head.
"I guess not, seeing as up until you called me, I thought you guys were
nothing but opportunists, taking the hard earned money of the sports
celebrities you busted. Let's get one thing straight here, and that's that
I am here to get myself off the hook, and back in the books if you know
what I'm sayin'," Gus made himself imposing to Constable Casek, who
ignored the body language of the physically larger man, not intimidated by
it in the least.
"Gus? This isn't the first time I've done this and it won't be the last.
The truth is that sometimes, from the skies above, there are powers that
looketh down upon thee, and pluck thee from the cosmos as part of their
own schemes. You my friend, are one such person. I consider your having
come around to our side of the fence as an eventuality, given the pressure
we exerted upon you. As I said, I wouldn't be a pro if I didn't know
exactly what you're thinking right now, and how you'd react to this offer.
I do this for a living, and I'm very good at it. Enough so that you'll one
day gain the insight that you might ask yourself why I introduced myself
as a Constable, when I'm very obviously beyond that role of being a
community ambassador between the community and the Police service,"
Constable Casek responded without blinking.
Not even once.
As Constable Casek had already accurately predicted, Gus became agitated
by the man's assertion, and was well prepared for the response.
"Look. I don't give a flying f#ck who you are or what you're about. The
truth is, that you're the only person between me and my former life, and
if someone told me that I had to take you out in order to have that life
back, I'd do it without blinking," Gus made himself that much more
imposing, backing it up with his physical nature and frame.
"That's the stuff we need. You're going into a party, and there's going to
be a lot of your celebrity friends. The kind that shrink before your
athletic frame, and lick your butt like pack dogs hoping for a treat from
the alpha male, and those that bum chum up to you to reap some of that
same imposing power and presence you have. We need you to get in there
without alarming them, and then when they least expect it, we need you to
alarm them enough so that it gets us in there without their suspecting a
thing (until its too late for them at least). When we're in close, that's
when we'll do our thing and if that thing works out for our purposes, then
you're back to square one with your record, all charges dropped and a
thank-you pay cheque to get you back on your feet and on the road to your
career," Constable Casek explained the rules to Gus, already knowing his
possible responses far in advance.
Gus suddenly found the man repulsive. Sickening even, though Constable
Casek had even known that of his psychology and possible responses.
"So what are we doing and when do we do it?" asked Gus.
"First of all, you're not doing anything for anyone. You're there,
schmoozing. Schmoozing is the word for drumming up opportunities amidst
one's own prosperous circle. Your circle is your source of a potential
future after all. Everyone who isn't a complete sociopath knows that..."
Constable Casek smiled with a sinister irony.
"Don't f#ck with me," Gus said to the smaller man, unintimidated by him,
for Gus' psychology prevented him from being frightened by anyone smaller
than him.
Constable Casek had known exactly everything about Gus from the moment
they'd arrested him, for from that time he'd become a pawn in a much
larger game. In terms of the psychological implications and operations
which might benefit a man like Casek, Gus was simply another "Useful
Object". A man whose psychological inner makings were so well known to one
such as Casek, that he had become a puppet towards the goals of the true
department for which Casek was employed.
The truth was that Casek had known from the beginning exactly how to play
Gus, leading him along into thinking he'd had the upper hand (which was
what is known and an engineered impression), while Casek had made
it seem that everything was occurring within the willful paradigm of Gus's
fears, hopes and ambitions.
In the end, it was a case of brawn versus brain, and brain had as it
always had, won.
Bridal Path Party
Gus sat back comfortably in his Viper GTS, one hand on the steering wheel
as he drove north along Yonge Street up towards York Mills amidst the
Saturday evening traffic. His Police Service counterfeit invitation sat on
the dash, momentarily catching his eye, and he found himself wondering how
much else they'd counterfeited over the course of their existence, and if
it had even mattered to those who'd been fooled by such a ruse. In this
case, it would get him into the door of a party to which he'd have likely
not been invited. It was one tier above his level of fame and finances but
he'd certainly do his best to improvise and schmooze regardless. There was
far too much at stake.
For one, his career and finances, both of which were rapidly dwindling to
the point that if he didn't solve those problems, he'd be looking at
selling both of his properties within the coming three months as his
expenses overtook his lack of income.
Then there was the issue of Laurette. She'd indicated to him rather
insistently that she was ready to start a family, and he'd alluded to the
fact that he was ready, though his actions dictated otherwise. He'd spent
little time with her or at home for that matter, while much of his money
was spent on his bling and party-style social life. The pressure from his
ego that constantly required of him the need to be the life of the party,
and his having found a substance that seemed to make that possible. His
forwardness and bravado was all of his own, as much so as it was on the
playing field, but expending that kind of energy all the time, required
something a little more, and that is where his coke habit came in.
The substance of his particular choice had shored up the lack he'd felt
when having over extended himself and his energy, and instead of crashing,
it would pick him up and keep him going long into the parties he'd attend,
and he'd attended oh so many of them.
Laurette had at first joined him, for the first year they were the couple
that could be found every weekend with the who's who of Toronto sports. A
time before Gus had delved into the non-existent merits of substance abuse
to maintain his uneven energetic keel. After a year of their having spent
every weekend schmoozing with the Toronto night life, Laurette made the
decision that she'd prefer to stay in and begin building their life from
within rather than somewhere out of their doors. Gus however had continued
with the weekend night life, and had become unwilling to give up that part
of his being. To him, it was like throwing in the towel and so he
eventually found a substance that would help him to keep up with that
ambition.
At the six month point of his having begun to become dependent upon it,
he'd become the target of a very different kind of predator. The kind that
worked for Law Enforcement and was a specialist in human psychology and
behaviour. The Police Service had been investigating the activities of a
coke ring that supplied several notable figures such as Gus locally, for
this ring had been connected to one of the most elaborate money laundering
schemes the Police Service had ever uncovered. With finding such a gold
mine as a successful and stealthy laundering scheme, they'd
essentially found a source of intel that they could milk for years, even
decades if they played their cards right. The truth being that every
illicit activity that brought in money by the hundreds of thousands
(multi-millions in the case of this laundering scheme), that from this
network ran tendrils to hundreds if not thousands of other criminal
networks. The Police Service would in each case just have to follow the
audit trail, but the tricky part of was uncovering it without revealing
themselves and this often involved complex interdepartmental diplomacy
with other investigating bodies, not to mention the investigative bodies
of other nations.
Each of their investigations had overall significance and value to their
agency, and their successfully cashing in would justify their continued
budget, however when it came to uncovering a grand-daddy money laundering
operation, it became far more valuable as a whole to maintain it and then
to follow each of the tendrils that extended from it. To take it down
would be counter-productive to the very principles of law enforcement, as
the felonies being committed further along the chain of these money ties
would continue in some other way, shape or form and their perpetrators
would simply find another way to wash their money. This often put the
investigative bodies in the difficult situation where they'd actually be
facilitating protecting the laundering operation, in order to be able to
successfully milk it and this sometimes required throwing a case or two.
The case of Gus' dealer was one such case.
Constable Casek (who was not a Constable at all), was an expert in
psychology and behavioural science, and had been operating professionally
at that capacity for two and a half decades by the time he'd met Gus. He'd
known from the start exactly how to play him, and the ease with which that
could be achieved. When Constable Casek successfully acquired him, Gus
would become a low risk asset. He would easily be manipulated and most
often without his ever knowing that he'd been so. That was pertinent,
because Gus would also become a source of misinformation. A crucial
element in protecting intelligence operations, about most of which Gus
would have no idea, let alone be able to comprehend the significance of
such activity in the larger scheme of things. Gus, would become what they
referred to as their marionette. Their puppet.
This operation would deny Gus of every potential future path he could take
forward since his having become involved with coke. He'd either be working
for Constable Casek, or he'd eventually be the stock boy in a local
department store, his athletic career, or any career for that matter now
defunct.
Gus exited Lawrence Avenue onto Post Road and then made his way to The
Bridal Path and to the home indicated on his invitation.
A pair of security specialists greeted him at the gate and he gave them
his (counterfeit) invitation.
"You're Gus Glennard, aren't you? The quarterback? The shotgun arm!" asked
one of the security specialists.
"That 's right. The one and only," Gus smiled for what he assumed to be
one of his fans.
"That's a shame because I lost money bettin' on you," the security
specialist responded, handing him back his invitation.
"Well you're about to lose a lot more. Try, your job," Gus responded after
having rolled up the window of his Viper and pulled into the parking area
just outside of the massive home on the gated property.
When he'd parked his car he quickly made his way to the front door where
he was greeted by more security, who again recognized him and who he
greeted politely, even offering to sign an autograph, though the security
specialist did not ask him for one.
As he stepped further into the massive home, through the front foyer
(complete with a three floor waterfall), he found his way to the lounge
where he began to see faces he'd recognized.
"Hey! Max! How ya doin'?" Gus greeted a sports agent he recognized.
"Gus? Haven't seen you for ages. How've you been? You still with Mandel?"
asked Max of Gus, referring to the agency who'd negotiated Gus' former
deal with NORWOOD ENTERTAINMENT Holdings.
"Yeah, but I might be looking for another agent soon. Gotta keep my
options open you know and expand my career. The sky's the limit," Gus said
enthusiastically to Max.
"I'm so sorry honey. Gus, this is Denice Woodman. Denice, this is Gus
Glennard. He's the quarterback known as the shotgun arm," Max introduced
Gus to his date.
"A pleasure to meet you Mr. Glennard," Denice greeted Gus, as Gus took in
an eye full of Max's date.
Gus thoroughly enjoyed women, though not so much when they spoke as he did
when they were just there and he could quietly behold them. Denice looked
at Gus, and he looked at her and knew instantly that she was his kind of
girl, and from the moment since his having arrived at the party, he
completely forgot Laurette. Denice was firmly on his mind.
"Pleasure's all mine. Max, if I'm seeing you here, then I take it that
Stokes is here too?" asked Gus nervously.
"Yeah, he's out back on the patio. Out by the pool," Max told Gus.
"Look, lemme give you my card. Gimme a call when you can. I'd like to play
the field if you know what I'm saying. See what a man of my talent might
bring home with another football club," Gus asked of Max.
"Sure thing. I'll try to get to you next week. Don't be such a stranger,"
Max and Denice disappeared into the crowd as Gus made his way towards the
back of the home and out onto the patio, looking for more faces he might
recognize as he did, while keeping in mind the task that had been
requested of him by Constable Casek.
When he spotted a tall clean shaven bald man in a sleek and stylish
blazer, he knew it was Stokes.
"Man am I glad to see you. I could use a little pick me up right now, if
you know what I'm sayin," Gus greeted Stokes, who matched Gus in terms of
height and body mass.
"I hear you had a little run in?" Stokes asked Gus.
"That I did, but I kept my mouth shut and everything appears to be
good..." Gus assured Stokes.
"I could point you in the right direction, but how are you going to
scratch my back without a job?" Stokes asked Gus.
"Oh, that? I had money put away. I can cover for anything you can point me
to," Gus assured Stokes.
"You didn't cut a deal with the man. Turn me over or anything like that
for another shot at your career?" asked Stokes with a sinister smile on
his face.
"Are you kidding me? I'm as solid as they come, but I will let you in on a
secret. They're trying to pinch someone else in here. Someone tied up in a
money racket. I'd suggest that after you get me looked after, you
disappear. Get a little distance between yourself and this place, because
it might be crawling with the man if you know what I mean," Gus told
Stokes, who looked at him, this time with the dead seriousness of a man
who could have at that moment taken much more than Gus' money.
"There's a man by the pool there. South west corner. The one with the Deep
GITMORE hat. He'll give you enough to get by tonight before we leave,
which from what you're saying is going to be real soon. I'll look after
you for letting me in on this, but if you screw me or turn me over, there
won't be a place anywhere in the world you can hide from me," Stokes said
to Gus, who looked away, but nodded affirmatively nonetheless.
And with those final words between them, Gus paid the second man and was
given what he was seeking. Enough coke to get him into the party a bit
further, before he had to make his scene. Without ever realizing it, he
had responded exactly in every way that Constable Casek had predicted he
would.
He knew that Stokes, a high level dealer for the wealthy in the city would
be at the party, and that Gus would seek him out. He knew that Stokes was
aware of Gus' arrest, and hence that Stokes would be suspicious of him. He
knew that in order for Gus to gain traction with Stokes so that he could
successfully procure some of his product, would offer up the information
he'd been given about the alleged operation taking place in the Bridal
Path home.
When Stokes had left, he'd been watched very carefully by the
investigators, though he was not their quarry. Before Stokes had left,
he'd spoken to the security detail that had been present at the party for
one of the guests. A guest by the name of Curtis Torman. The same Curtis
Torman whose money laundering operation was the target of the Police
Service investigation, though unbeknownst to the Police Service at that
point.
With Stokes' warning, Curtis too left the party and averted drawing the
attention of the investigators and made his way to a theatrical show at
the Royal York, before returning to his home in King City.
Gus on the other hand, had taken an entire gram of the coke he'd procured
and when the time had come for him to make his scene, he literally brought
the house down, causing a violent clash and fight between two of the
competing security firms, while he himself entered into a fist fight with
one of the targets of the investigation.
When the Police arrived, they quickly took the people they'd been seeking
into their custody (including Gus), and left the party with a minimum of
interference. The trouble makers were there and gone, and everyone else
stayed and enjoyed the party.
Gus, who'd been visibly one of the sources of the conflict, had
essentially closed the doors on his career, his peers and many others who
could affect his life towards a positive end finally having seen him and
his behaviour in person. What could have potentially worked in his favour,
had undone him for good given his choice to share the information with
Stokes.
A fact that Constable Casek had known would occur all along. In fact, it
was one upon which they'd been depending, for it led them to a money
racket they'd been targeting for months, but at the cost of their losing
sight of the actual laundering ring itself. A massive multi-national ring
that led all the way to the front doorstep of Alomera Constanza Zekestes.
Jail Break Broke
When Gus woke up, he found himself curled up on the bench inside of the
general population holding cell of the Toronto Police Service building. A
large man with long scraggly hair and one missing eyebrow was staring at
him as he sat up. A pair youths in baggy clothing and tank tops checked
out Gus from one of the other benches, not quite sure what to make of him.
Despite their not recognizing him, they could tell that his shirt was pure
silk and quite pricey at that.
On the other side of the cell, a man even larger and more muscular than
Gus sat in a jean jacket vest and blue jeans, his left arm rife with
tattoos while his vest was covered in a variety of patches and in a
variety of colours.
"Don't f#ckin look at me like that! I'm in here for a f#ckin parking
ticket!" the man yelled at Gus, who immediately looked away, suddenly
fearful for his own safety.
"Sit the f#ck up! We're trying to get comfy in here... this ain't your
cell!" the man with the long scraggly hair and one eye brow punched Gus in
the shoulder.
Gus was quickly upon his feet, ready to defend himself against the man,
though the attack never came.
Gus slowly backed away to the bench, this time only to be seated rather
than to stretch out.
There was a moment of silence as the tension slowly diffused itself,
though Gus was careful not to let his gaze fall in any direction where it
might infringe upon someone else's. He'd basically received a crash course
on the territorial nature of the cell, and dared not toy with it. He
reckoned that most of these men were on familiar territory, and were more
than willing to take risks of which he was not yet ready to take.
A door opened outside of the cell and Constable Casek walked in and stood
on the other side of the bars dressed in his civilian clothing, looking in
at Gus.
"Get me out of here!" Gus stood up and walked towards the gate.
"Watch where you're walkin..." the man in the jean jacket vest reminded
Gus, who suddenly noticed a patch with a skull with a mohawk on the man's
vest, under which the words were written:
I'm born to be wild and I've killed to be free.
"You told him," Constable Casek said to Gus blandly.
"Told who what?!!!" Gus responded in confusion, knowing all of the cards
were in Casek's hands.
"Your friend. The one with the coke. You told him, about the sting
operation," Constable Casek said to Gus blandly.
"He's a f#ckin' narc? Get the f#ck away from me!" the man in the jean
jacket vest stood up, taller than Gus by four inches.
"I'm not a narc! I tried to warn a friend..." Gus explained himself to
both Casek and the man in the jean jacket vest.
"I tried to get him to help us with a sting, and he ratted us out to a
coke dealer, to buy trust. He ratted on his own to protect coke," Casek
explained to the man in the jean jacket vest.
"You see how things work in the real world, Gus? Its a whole different
ball game than the one you're used to. You see these guys? They're in here
for processing, but Mighty Joe Young here won't be leaving. He's on his
way to the big house, for murder one," Casek explained to Gus.
"The f#cker deserved it! So does this piece of sh#t!" the man in the jean
jacket vest responded to Casek's words, then gesturing towards Gus.
"These two? You remember the Nancy Elward shooting a few months back? Two
suspects jacked a car, and shot the owner point blank, leaving her to
spend the rest of her life as a paraplegic. They'll be going to the same
place with Mighty Joe Young," Casek told Gus.
"Give us a piece of this narc, will ya?" one of the two youths got up and
approached Gus, who turned to face him.
"Oh, don't worry. You'll have him for a bit. You see, he'll be kept there
for processing while we figure out his court arrangements. That should
give you enough time to exact some justice," Casek said to the youth.
"I was trying to help you! Now you're going to leave me when it was you
who put me here?!!!" Gus pleaded with Casek, who seemed completely unfazed
by Gus' urgency.
"I'm sorry Gus, but you're on your own now. But next time, maybe you won't
tell," Casek smiled at him and then turned and left through the same door
he'd arrived.
The man in the jean jacket vest approached Gus as the two youths
approached him from behind.
"Don't do it! I'll tear out your eyes... anything I gotta do to survive!
I'm warning you!" Gus' voice rose anxiously as they closed in on him.
Outside of the holding cell, the same door opened again, and this time it
was a tall and somewhat beefy Italian man in a designer suit, accompanied
by two even more beefy Italian men accompanied by two armed bailiffs.
"I'll take.... that one. Yeah. He should do. We need a new dog around the
house. Is he toilet trained?" Curtis Torman pointed to Gus Glennard just
before the other inmates in the cell with him were about to tear him
apart.
"I guess you're going to find out Mr. Torman. Step back from the door,
facing the back wall, or my peer here will be forced to incapacitate you,"
The bailiff gave the men in the cell their instructions as he unlocked and
opened the cell door.
"You. The one with the silk shirt. You're with me. This is your one
chance. Don't blow it, or you can stay here with the slaughter house
four..." Curtis Torman said to Gus with a brash smile on his face.
"I'm outta here. Lets go," Gus said, carefully backing away from his
cellmates until he was no longer in harm's way, or the cell.
The bailiff closed the gate behind him, though Gus Glennard dared not look
back any more than any man who had stared death in the face once already,
would return for a second glance.
"So you're Shotgun Glennard, are you?" Curtis Torman addressed Gus.
"That's right, Sir. At your service. The one and the only," Gus quickly
adjusted to his new life and employ.
"That's funny. In our business, your name has an entirely different
meaning," Curtis Torman turned to his personal security, the corners of
their mouths barely raising enough to elicit a smile.
"Be sure to thank Casek for me," Curtis Torman addressed the bailiff.
"Certainly Mr. Torman. Anything else we can do to help you?" asked the
first bailiff.
"Yeah. Show me how the f#ck I get outta this heat score," Curtis laughed,
following behind the bailiff as the men exited the holding area.
The Economy of Second Chances
Gus stepped in through the front door of his home just as the first
morning light was cresting the line of buildings across the horizon.
Torman's car had already driven off and disappeared around the corner, out
into rural Scarborough on its way north west to King City.
Gus quietly pocketed his keys as he stepped in the front door, closing it
behind himself after which he kicked off his shoes and made his way up the
spiral staircase and to the second floor bathroom where he quickly jumped
into the shower, opting to throw the clothes he was wearing into the
garbage. He'd been given a second chance, and a life as a new man. The
last thing he wanted was the clothing that would remind him of his last
night as the first chance he'd blown.
When he'd thoroughly scrubbed himself with soap and the exfoliating
cleanser his wife liked to use, he stepped out of the shower and covered
himself in an extra bathrobe he had and made his way to the bedroom.
Laurette was there, fast asleep, the covers pulled over her and clinging
to her body. Upon his getting into bed with her, Gus found himself
thinking about Max's date once again: Denice. Gus didn't bother to wake
Laurette, instead he threw himself at her, slightly roughly so, and she
was roused from her early morning slumber. She pressed her body close to
Gus, as Gus imagined himself with Denice.
The two of them awkwardly got into position, Gus barely able to wait for
her to be ready, instead pouncing upon her and mounting her, twice
preventing himself from uttering the name of Max's date. Together they
quietly climaxed and at that moment, conceived their first child: Gloria
"MissGvious" Glennard, in the throes of passion as her father thought
about another woman.
In the few moments after their climax, Laurette knew that something had
changed. Something was drastically different about him. About them.
They fell asleep, though on opposite sides of the bed as their fertilized
egg slowly began to grow into the child they'd created. The child whose
father had a different woman in mind when making love to her mother.
...
Twelve years ago
Gus was once again at the wheel of his favourite car. Actually it wasn't
his car at all, and he never would have bought it himself, though it was
his favourite car of his employer's fleet of cars. The ones he'd let his
employees use to carry out business on his behalf, and on this particular
day, that's exactly what he was doing for Curtis Torman, driving Grier,
Torman's fourteen year old son to school.
"Why can't my dad let me take care of myself? I could have gotten myself
to school!" Grier said to Gus from the passenger's seat.
"Because you're special. You stand out in a crowd. Your family has money,
and there are people who don't like that. People that might want to hurt
you because of it," Gus explained to Grier.
"Why is it you're driving me today? Why isn't it Frank? He usually drives
me," Grier went on griping to Gus.
"Because Frank has other business today, and Mr. Torman wanted me to make
sure that you get to class safely," Gus explained to Grier.
"He sent you because of Tucker, didn't he?" Grier looked to Gus.
"He sent me because Frank is busy with other stuff today. Don't read
anything into it. Look, why don't you just do your homework or read
something alright? I don't need you second guessing everything in life
that's clearly there to help you," Gus said to Grier, perhaps practicing
on Grier in order to get better at dealing with his daughter Gloria, whom
he often regarded as behaving more like a son.
"So why'd you quit football?" asked Grier, already knowing which buttons
to press.
"So I could drive you to school. Who wouldn't give up a six figure salary
to do that?" Gus asked him, the edge of his sarcasm thicker than his wit.
"You're going to deal with Tucker, aren't you?" asked Grier of Gus.
Gus remained silent.
"You're actually going to deal with Tucker. What if he waits until you
aren't around and beats me up?" Grier responded, very clearly only
thinking of himself.
"He won't," Gus said to Grier.
"Oh yes he will. He's from that neck of the woods, where they don't take
guff from anyone," Grier once again knew exactly what to say.
"Well he's going to be taking some guff today, let me tell you," Gus said
once, then remaining quiet for the rest of the trip.
...
When they got to the school, Gus got out of the car with Grier, and the
two of them began towards the school.
"I want you to point Tucker out to me, and then I want you to disappear.
Don't be seen anywhere near me. You got it?" asked Gus of Grier.
"He's over there. They hang out by the soccer field in the morning. That's
where they bring the kids they rob. Rough them up a bit to scare them,"
Grier told Gus.
"Alright. Go and don't follow me. Get to class and earn yourself a degree
or certificate or something, so nobody has to do this kind of sh#t for you
again," Gus said to him as he departed towards the soccer field.
Grier continued on towards the back entrance of the school, not daring to
look towards either Tucker or Gus.
...
Grier didn't see Tucker in school again for a month, and it was nearly a
year before Gus drove Grier anywhere, though Grier had learned through
careful observation that Gus was the man his father would use whenever
aggressive action was required in his protection. His father paid Gus to
rough up anyone who crossed Grier, and then paid Gus for his time served,
reimbursing him for any loss of time spent in jail, or any charges that
hindered his ability to operate in society.
It was from this time in life that Grier had begun to amass a multitude of
information about his father's business dealings and associates. Both at
home and abroad. Grier knew when each of his father's employees would be
used for a particular activity or function and hence would keep careful
track of this information, knowing that one day it would be useful to him,
for he by that time suspected that his father's power and influence in the
world was far greater than that of most people, and secretly so and it was
a power that Grier from the moment he'd known about it, wanted to wield
for himself.
...
Gloria had been both a studious and astute girl, despite her big boned, (she was six feet one inches) tall and athletic physique. Her first interest had been with music, though nothing
so involved as learning to play an instrument, but rather to work with
music in its most whole sense, stringing songs together into entire
performances for an audience, who might appreciate her ability to
empathize with their rhythm and pulse.
In school, as much so as her athletic physique had enabled her, she'd
become a formidable athlete, naturally so, requiring little training or
practice except where necessary to learn the rules of specific sports.
Though she played well with teams, most of the coaches who worked with her
quickly found out that she tended to play by her own rules, and that
generally meant that she'd be the focal point of the team's effort, and
that she'd be the one putting herself in a scoring position. She wasn't
there to make someone else look good was how she saw things. If there was
a goal to be had, she would be the one who would get it.
Most of the other potential athletes in school had been subverted to her
way of doing things, especially as her social circle had grown and her
father's employer had gained power over more and more of the city.
Gloria's and Grier's parents were the darkness of the future. An overhead
and underground slowly gaining traction over society, their children being
extensions of their ambitions and hence so, pursuing them with similar
obsession but in ingeniously unique ways of which their parents had never
dreamt.
From Gloria's (and Grier's) perspective, there was little wrong with what
they were doing or how they were doing it, and from their perspective they
could argue against those who held contention with them and their ways.
The fact that Gloria was gaining a following as a prominent young Hip Hop
DJ, and from her effort thus forth, gaining an army of followers: a gang
of her own, while Grier continued to pursue his ambitions much more
discretely, though much the same gaining an ever the more secretive
collection of his own followers. Those who'd help him achieve his goals in
a very different way than Gloria's followers would do the same for her.
From the perspective of the other students, it was somewhat frustrating,
for to many of them it seemed that someone or something had simply
given them a pair of flavours from which to choose, and those icons would
have to represent everything in all of the uniqueness of the students,
despite their vast differences in life style and opinion. In art and
music. In science and literature. The students that didn't get behind a
woman like Gloria, would disappear into their own obscurity, while those
who clamoured behind her and kept her in power, would prosper with the
backing of their numbers. Even as Gloria eventually discarded her own
identity to become the iconified version of herself as MissGvious, the
audience slowly realized that she did not represent all of them, and those
who realized this quickly understood that they too needed
heroes of their own.
Laurette, Gloria's mother, had been the one lady that she'd resented the
most, for she was her father's girl. Her mother was soft, gentle and
delicate and often preening herself in some way shape or form, to preserve
this fragile idea of femininity, and one with which Gloria more and more
held contention. How her mother had managed to become involved with such a
visceral man as her father, she never understood and hence Gloria never
truly respected her as either a woman or her mother. She was just a woman
that had allowed a man with much more passion and fire for life than she,
to overtake her life. She'd become nothing but a fixture in her father's
life. One whom he'd simply objectified as a woman of few words, and there
for his sexual release every once in a while and to accompany him to one
of Torman's parties. Nothing less. Nothing more.
Gloria's resent for her own mother had translated to becoming the
motivation behind her competitive ambition, in order to ensure that she
never became like her mother. Everything that she did, she did to impress
her father, for she was her father's girl.
Grier became acquainted with Gloria more and more often, every time Torman
had a party for his employees. Their families would show up and Grier,
being the diplomat that he was, got to know everyone, though quietly and
from a distance, and Gloria was not exempt from this fact at all. In fact,
Grier quietly admired her, seeing her like a wild beast to be tamed and
repurposed for his own pursuits. Nothing of a sexual nature, but rather a
professional one, eventually, where she'd be an extension of his ability
to affect the world. He'd be the mind, and she'd be the fist, though in
his plan, she'd have no awareness of the fact that he'd even commandeered
her towards such ends or purpose. She'd simply believe that she was acting
in her own interest, similar to the way that her own father believed
himself to be acting in his.
Gloria on the other hand had intuitively known that she should be cautious
of Grier. There was something hidden in his silence that was not to her
liking, though she too was no fool and believed that to wield whatever
that was about him that remained elusive, and in in her own interests,
would be a good reason to have him as an ally rather than an enemy. The
more this circle of cacophony and betrayal grew, the more alien and
distant her own family had become, while with Grier, it was a case of the
exact opposite. Despite Grier's lust for the power that his father
wielded, he'd never been closer to his family in his entire life. He knew
every aspect of their lives, and every one of his employees, thoroughly
and enough so as any potential heir to the family throne might.
Sooner or Later?
Grier's twentieth birthday had been a very special day for him, for it
marked many first time experiences, not the least of which to mention was
his graduation from business management school, for it was a time in which
he also oversaw a particularly challenging and daunting project. A project
which he kept secret from everyone including his own father.
During his late teen years, Grier had spent considerable time and energy
getting to know the tasks and day to day business of all of his father's
employees, especially the day to day activities of Gus Glennard. Gus after
all had essentially been assigned to security detail for Grier, and had on
at least two occasions, acted on behalf of Grier, both verbally and
physically, even doing the time for the crime of having done so.
It was over this time that Grier learned much about Gus, including the
fact that he was a sociopathic and despicable man for the most part, often
pursuing the path of most approval despite the ethical or moral issues
involved, not to mention his system of values with his regard for his wife
and daughter. To him, his wife was simply a sexual figurine, whose visits
to spas for leg waxing and the stylist for her hair were simply so as to
be a pleasing nymph as his wife, while his daughter was nothing more than
a vessel through which he could aspire to live his own unfulfilled sports
related ambitions. These two women were nothing more than ornaments in the
life of a man who truly valued nothing but what he couldn't or didn't
have. Especially when those he didn't have were unattached women or the
wives of his peers.
The more Grier came to know the man, the less he liked him though in the
end, that had little to do with the fate that Grier had chosen ultimately
to befall the man. Grier knew in advance that once he'd taken measures in
pursuit of his future goals, that it would be Gus that would be called
into the front lines to protect him, and as a result, it would be Gus that
would initially pay the price. The fact that Gus was despicable simply
made it more palatable, and gave wind to the option of objectifying him
more so than humanizing him, which in the end is exactly what had
happened.
The project consisted of a premise that Grier had concocted after looking
into all of his father's business adversaries, and evaluating which of
them he could use to achieve his goal. In this case, he'd be studying in a
prominent school of business management south of the border, and in the
territory of Antonio Giuseppe Leonaldi. A man whose underground operations
significantly dwarfed those of his father, and a man who controlled much
of the western inland states in that regard. He was known as the bridge
between Mexico and the densely populated, high demand market of the Great
Lakes region. If anything of a black market nature was shipped through
that corridor, it entirely occurred through his network and his alone.
His first steps in launching his project began while he was studying at
business management school in the United States. Grier hired a man for the
purpose of secretly documenting his life in business school. A man who
would examine Grier's daily activities, both photographically and in
writing so as to achieve a holistic record that Grier could eventually
share with his family, and one day, his own children. This journalist was
none other than Carlos Hilleo, a direct member of the Leonaldi family and
one whose profession often found him in demand as a freelance journalist.
Grier had himself amassed a small fortune over his early teen years and
now utilized it to hire Mr. Hilleo for the purpose of documenting his
education life, imploring him to keep his distance and refrain from
contacting Grier, unless otherwise absolutely necessary. This he reasoned
would maintain discretion and keep the sincerity of spontaneity. A vehicle
that might be used poetically to achieve drama and humour in the record,
Grier reasoned with Hilleo, who as a result began to admire Grier's
youthful inventiveness.
And so it was that over the course of his business education, Mr.
Hilleo secretly documented all of Grier's activities, from the most
significant to the least, keeping them all which he'd eventually compile
into a narrative record for the entertainment of Grier's family and
friends. What Hilleo didn't know was that at some point along this
agreement, Grier had contacted his father, telling him that he feared for
his privacy and safety and that he was being stalked by a journalist who
operated near the business school which he attended. He explained to
Curtis, his father, that he was deathly afraid that he might be murdered.
Curtis immediately hired a private investigator, and had him look into the
risks over which his son was experiencing such fear. The investigator
quickly confirmed what Grier had claimed, that a journalist was in fact
collecting details, both those in exposition, and those of a more
secretive nature and gathering them into a record of some form. A record
he claimed that might be used to blackmail his son, or possibly at some
point to commit violence against him. From the moment the investigator had
stated that violence was a risk, he contacted Gus, an eventuality that
Grier had predicted accurately.
Gus was from that point, contracted to perform a hit on Mr. Hilleo, and
remove him with extreme prejudice as a threat to his son. In exchange,
Curtis offered a handsome payment, and the promise that Gus' daughter,
MissGvious, would remain protected by Curtis' organization, and that he'd
ensure her opportunities in her field as an entertainment DJ.
Gus agreed to these terms and on the very night of Grier's graduation,
shortly before the ceremony and subsequent dance, Gus arrived in the
United States, and quickly set about putting his plan into action. Hours
after he'd arrived, Mr. Hilleo no longer had a face, for it had been blown
off by a sawed-off shotgun, fired by an ex-quarterback for whom the
nickname "shotgun" had once applied in reference to his throwing arm
rather than firearm. With Mr. Hilleo dead, Gus quickly returned to
Toronto, and laid low after having committed the perfect crime, though not
nearly so perfect as the one that would eventually be committed against
him.
...
In the very city where Mr. Hilleo had been executed, the Leonaldi family
mourned the death of one of their own, and given that the execution was
delivered with a clear intent and a harsh message along the lines of his
face having been removed, Antonio Giuseppe Leonaldi organized a secret
investigation to uncover the identity of the assassin so that he could
bring peace, justice and closure to bear upon their grievous loss. Antonio
spared no expense with regard to the manpower and resources he put forth,
and within three months of the day they laid soil upon Hilleo's closed
coffin burial, they'd ascertained the exact identity of the assassin.
How Grier found out that Antonio Leonaldi had discovered the identity of
Mr. Hilleo's assassin was another story entirely, though it could have
simply been argued that Grier understood Antonio enough from having
thoroughly researched the man, that he knew that Gus' identity would
eventually be uncovered. Hence, it was not a question of if so much
as it was a question of when.
Despite the fact that Grier was mostly inept when it came to technology or
at least being proficient in its inner workings, he had a firm handle on
how to operate most of it, though not far beyond anything that required
technical savvy or mandatory skill. He had however much like his father,
become fascinated by camera and playback technology. He and his father
found a common ground when watching their favourite sports, and enjoying
the playback feature of their digital television system. They could rewind
a session and play it back in slow motion, and sometimes from a variety of
different angles if the network had broadcast it that way. Between himself
and his father on such occasions, they wielded the power of the gods.
Together. For if one could rewind time, and twist it to their whim and
will, would that not make them as gods?
Grier and his distaste for Gus had only grown since the assassination, and
he often found himself wondering how such a man who could commit such a
horrendous crime and then face his wife and daughter with a clear
conscience. He was a man who literally had wiped the face off of another
man. Not only had he taken that man's life, but he'd removed his face.
This was a man who could commit such a crime, and then within twenty-four
hours, find himself at home again where he screwed his wife while thinking
about another woman he'd seen on the same day as the execution he'd
committed. Though no such details would find Grier, the clues left by the
unknown blanks of Gus' actions and behaviours were enough for him to
despise Gus and the man he was.
Grier, knowing that Gus' fate was sealed, set about another plan to be
certain that he'd get the entire event on camera, and from multiple
angles, right inside of Gus' own home. He quickly figured out the two most
probably locations in the home where Gus would be hit, and then hired an
exterminator to infiltrate the home when Gus and his family were away, and
to infest the home with some kind of pest, preferably a rodent as Grier
had insisted.
The exterminator had in fact succeeded in achieving such a goal, even
leaving a brochure in the mailbox just after having done so. One afternoon
when MissGvious had arrived home after being out with her friends, she
found that the cupboards were infested with rodents, three of whom had
made a home in a box of her favourite cereal. When she'd gone to grab the
box, two of them jumped out through the hole they'd chewed, while a third
remained inside of the box, munching happily on the crunchy food.
Gus had called the exterminator when he'd gotten home, and the following
day, the exterminator installed traps to catch the vermin, and hidden
cameras as per Grier's instructions. In all, he managed to secretly
install eight cameras, four in each of the two locations Grier had deemed
to be the likeliest place for them to hit Gus.
A week later and the exterminator returned to clean the traps, which had
caught all of the rodents (alive). He removed them from the home and was
promptly paid by Gus, with a bonus as well. Perhaps it was ironic that the
exterminator accepted the bonus without so much as a smidgeon of guilt,
having installed hidden cameras in the man's home, though in all truth, he
had not a clue as to why the cameras were being installed and as it so
happened, he'd never know.
Three days later, Gus had arrived home early from Torman's mansion, where
he sat on the sofa text messaging a cute blonde he'd met earlier in the
day, pausing in their text message dialog to read a message from his wife
stating that she was going to be a little late that night. What she'd
neglected to tell him was that she too had met someone else. Someone who
sincerely valued her presence and time, much more than Gus. Gus replied to
her with a smiley, and then quickly flipped back to his conversation with
the blonde when the sound of the door bell distracted him from his
flirtatious efforts.
He got up and checked the front door security monitor in the kitchen, and
saw a young man in a courier uniform, standing before the security camera
with an envelope and a package. He quickly made his way to the front door
and opened it, holding the door for the man as the courier handed Gus the
envelope and the box.
"A little something for... Hey, you're shotgun Glennard, right?" asked the
courier as he handed Gus the package.
"One and the same. If you've got a pen, I'll give you an autograph if
you'd like..." Gus smiled as he checked the package, shaking it briefly
before returning his gaze to the courier.
"A pen? I'll do you one better..." the courier reached behind his back to
where he'd slung a sawed-off shotgun, which he leveled at Gus' face.
"This is a message from the Sicilian Lion:
From one shotgun to another, its your face for the other," the
courier exclaimed boldly, after which he pulled the trigger.
In a hundredth of a second, Gus' face had been wiped clean off of his
skull, leaving only powder burned lumps of muscle and tissue behind. He
fell backwards, flat on his back, lifeless and dead as the courier
worked up a lump of phlegm in his mouth and spat on him.
The courier quickly hid the shotgun under his arm, and kicked Gus' body
into the house enough so he could close the front door. He then returned
to his van which he'd left running in the driveway, and then pulled out
onto the street and disappeared into the late afternoon traffic. Much the
same as Gus had three and a half months earlier, the courier disappeared
back to his home in Leonaldi territory.
...
Curtis Torman stood beside his son, Grier. Beside the two fo them on their
right was Laurette, and beside her, Gloria. Behind them, row after row of
family and friends stood and watched as Gus' closed coffin was lowered
into the ground, and the first soil thereupon was laid.
Curtis watched coldly, with a distant remorse, while Grier secretly
struggled to contain his growing urge for laughter, for earlier that day,
before they'd left for the funeral, he'd watched the recording of Gus'
assassination again. Rewinding it and playing it back in slow motion as if
he'd wielded the powers of a god.
To him, the entire situation had played out comically. There was this man
who'd moments earlier been messaging another woman, other than his own
wife (Grier had found that out from the phone they'd recovered from the
scene of his murder). When the shotgun appeared, it was as if he'd already
died. The life and animation had suddenly disappeared from his face in an
instant of realization. Gus' body at that point was nothing but a vacated
husk from which he'd tried to escape before the fiery explosion that would
signal his end. Grier rewound it several times, finding something more
humourous about it each time he watched it until he couldn't watch it
anymore, the laughter nearly asphyxiating him.
Now here he was at the funeral and the man about whom this was all about
was a few feet away, behind some wood and a few nails, having dirt piled
upon what was left of him, which Grier knew from the video not to be much
in terms of his face. Grier quickly plunged his face into his father's
chest to hide the fact that he was about to burst out laughing again, and
somehow managed to stifle it, and yet move his head so it appeared to
others that he was crying, despite the red face and smile concealed there
beneath his father's arm.
"Easy son. He's laid to rest. No more, no less," his father said to
console him entirely missing the poetic phrasing he'd used and not aware
in the slightest that his son was on the brink of hysterics of a different
kind.
Beside them, to their right, Laurette, who was many inches shorter than
her daughter, wrapped herself around Gloria and cried forth a stream of
tears and undeserved guilt.
MissGvious' resisted the urge to strangle her mother, instead her knuckles
whitened as her grip tightened.
She knew that one day, those responsible would pay for his death and she
promised herself that she would not rest until that happened.
Like Father, Like Son
Over the year that followed Gus' burial, there had been immense change, in
both the world and the city. In both the business and personal aspects of
life and the weight there upon them, especially for men of Torman's ilk.
Both father and son.
Grier had begun to build a name for himself in the world of business,
having started at mid-management level thanks to his education, and having
worked his way up from there, unlike his father, who had literally built
his empire from the ground up.
In the 1980s and from the ripe young age of fourteen, Curtis Torman was
what was known as a runner. Back in the old days, the city's construction
jobs were auctioned off. They'd be offered from an office in the downtown,
the old downtown that is, with only a few months, weeks sometimes days
before they were to break earth so to speak.
Each construction firm that had been approved to take part in the bidding
process could have only one representative, and every day there was a
limit as to how many representatives could take part in the day's bidding.
A cap insofar as these bidding reps were concerned.
Curtis' first job ever, was to act as a runner, who would take a printed
copy of a proposed job, and the initial offer, and run it to an office
that was located a block away. An office run by a family friend of Curtis'
own father named Eduardo Cannesi. Cannesi had managed to conglomerate a
number of construction companies under one roof, though they were each
family owned and operated. The deal that Cannesi gave these families was
that he would open a bidding office of his own, a short distance away from
the government office where the proposals would first be offered every
morning, in a dispatch environment. The proposal would circulate amongst
those qualified to bid, with one of the bidders actually being a runner,
who would run a copy of the proposal over to Cannesi's office, where
they'd quickly figure out the most competitive bid in order to ensure that
they secured the job. The job would then be allocated to one of the
construction families in a round robin order. The most recent to have
received a job would then go to the back of the line and wait their turn,
while the one who was next in life would receive the most current
successful bid.
Every morning at 4AM, Curtis would stand outside in line, in the cold in
order to ensure that he had a spot of a qualified contract bidder for
these construction jobs, even though he did not bid on them himself. He
was fourteen years of age in 1983, and at that time, the only rules there
were about government approved bidding work were that you had to be at
least fourteen and had to have a social insurance number. Social insurance
numbers were available to everyone from the moment they started collecting
income, and Curtis own father got him through that door very quickly by
hiring him for a day, which led to income for him, which he then had to
declare to the government, which required him to have a social insurance
number, for which he applied the day after his first pay.
Six weeks later, he was in possession of his first social insurance card,
and from that moment the rest of the opportunities afforded him fell into
place one by one. In order to accomplish Edoardo's plan to open their own
bidding office, they had to ensure that Curtis passed a twenty question
bidder's examination test, which basically quizzed bidders on their
knowledge of the city's construction laws, bylaws and building code. As
fortune would have it, Mattia, Curtis second uncle, was a trainer and
instructor who qualified building engineers for the civil engineering
license offices, and so he became Curtis' tutor, immersing Curtis in
education related to construction laws, bylaws and the building code until
he reached the point where he could pass every test that Mattia threw at
him, one hundred percent of the time.
The reason for requiring this high rate of accuracy, was because you could
only take the test once every three months. If you failed the first time,
then you'd have to wait three months before you could take the test again.
With their plan, Edoardo would not have been able to maintain the alliance
between these construction families without paying them. On the day that
Curtis received his test results, the families held a big party for him.
He'd passed of course, and had gotten a perfect score at fourteen years
old. From that day forward, Curtis young life was spent in a work lineup
from 4AM until 6AM, at which point he'd begin running the first
construction proposals to Edoardo's office down the street.
As a result of Edoardo's plan, the families managed to land almosts sixty
percent of the contracts proposed through the office, and though they
often ran over budget, they procured and solidified the city's
construction market and bidding system, with Edoardo's alliance growing
into one of the biggest construction firms in the province.
As Curtis got older, he was let in on more and more of the construction
business' secrets of the families, not to mention their other business
dealings, which included smuggling and gambling, two of their biggest grey
market enterprises. As their good fortune continued into the next decade,
the province eased the tensions arising between the families and their
gambling enterprises by legalizing gambling in the province and allowing
for the opening of casinos.
Curtis by that time was twenty-four years old, and had amassed a plethora
of experience and knowledge of the family business, not the least of which
were gambling houses. As he rose through the ranks, earning both the trust
and the respect of these construction families, he mandated himself to
repurpose the families illegal gambling housed and consolidate them in
order to drum up the finances to procure land and to build their first
casino, moving a significant amount of their total capital from the black
books, to the white books of those on the table. With this added trust,
despite their other black market interests, they'd managed to create a
working relationship between themselves and government, enough so that the
stigma and cliché often attributed to being the real force behind their
success, had mostly dissipated and their families entered into a time
where the rule of the gentle rose, rather than the iron fist was the order
of the day. From nineteen ninety-three, that decade would be known as the
Torman Renaissance amongst the families. The era of peace and finances,
that had overcome the previous eras of violence and intrigue for which
they were previously known. Stigma had turned to stimulus and cliché had
turned to investment capital.
Curtis over the course of his upbringing had been aware that in the kind
of family life that he lived, there were times when a harsh hand was
required to deal with a breach of their code or a harmful injustice
against them, and during those times he'd only ever heard of three
situations where they'd extended their force and capability in the most
aggressive and horrific way possible, and each time they had, it cost them
both a considerable piece of their growing public trust, and most
certainly their collective spirit as a family. It was never an easy
decision on how to deal with situations where violence was called into
play, and for this reason, it rarely ever was. But when it was, it was by
and far the most effective way to ensure that one's words were heard and
understood. That's why such action was often referred to as action of the
loudest kind.
Curtis knew that the world tended to be a place of extremes and that these
extremes, assuming one knew how to find equilibrium there within, were the
source of all of humanity's greatest struggles and aspirations. As much so
as there were expressions of family power of the loudest kind, there was
also the expression of the most cherished, the creation of family itself.
The societal and business environment that had permeated the last decade
of the last millennium had created the means by which Curtis knew that he
could start a family, safely so with his wife, Sophia and in the year
nineteen-ninety five, Grier Otteo Torman was born. He had a son, and their
family empire had an heir. One born during a time of peace and one who
Curtis knew would face a future of possible upheaval and conflict.
Their first sign of this potential arrived early in the new millennium,
through an act of terror and violence that transformed the way that law
enforcement agencies could collect information and deal with threats to
the safety and stability of society. Grier had grown up during one of the
most turbulent times in recent history, despite his growing up on a side
of the border that spent most of its time in peace, though backing its
closest ally at the time, while honouring its commitment to the principles
of NATO and the United Nations as it had for decades with regard to
peacekeeping missions and its mission to Afghanistan. Grier was astute,
and a shrewd and accurate judge of character, but he'd been beset with a
sense of cruelty that often betrayed the best of his qualities which was
often exploited as an opening by others over the course of his youth to
undermine him. If his father was the spring from which prosperity had
blossomed in the earlier decades, then Grier might be the source of a
coming equity and the achievement of a long overdue justice. However,
justice and cruelty when combined, often yielded the worst crimes in
history.
...
A few months after Gus' burial, Grier spent time bonding with his family,
especially to show off his brilliant other half, Valerie Aspen. They'd
come stay in the family mansion in King City, for the weekends, enjoying
lavish dinners, fine wine and the joy of good company together.
Valerie and Grier would often recollect how they'd initially met, and how
their dating life quickly transformed to become their live-in
relationship. Sophia, who herself was the often hidden other half of
Curtis, and the greatest source of his strength and compassion, had
greatly admired Valerie and found her to be an endless source of wit and
humour, though Valerie rarely aspired towards such qualities. Sophia just
found her sense of confidence and irony to be inspiring, and this had in
fact healed many wounds she bore between herself and her son Grier. For if
such a woman could fall for her son, then perhaps he was worthy of the
throne that would eventually find him.
It was during these times, when Grier's career was on the rise at Tynan
and Associates, and despite the fact that the method behind his rise was
far less than couth, that he had bonded with his father in a way that he
had not yet been able to in the past.
Sophia and Valerie were away in the solarium having a conversation about
the new couple's future, while Curtis and Grier were in the den, sipping
whiskey on the rocks and speaking for the first time as men, and
not just men of honour.
"I didn't want you to see that part of life, Grier. That part of life that
befalls people like us on rare occasion. You didn't need for that to
happen, and that was out of line what they did," Curtis admitted to his
son.
"Dad?" Grier asked quietly as he was seated in an overstuffed chair across
from his father, who was seated on the sofa in his favourite spot, the two
of them swirling the ice cubes in their respective glasses of whiskey in
the opposite direction from one another.
"What is it son?" Curtis responded, looking up from his glass.
"Do you believe that we should act...? You know, like use our power in the
interest of making the world a better place? From our unique experience
and corner, that most other people don't often gain the appreciation for
or insight that can come from our position?" Grier asked him, then looking
up to his father from the glass, hoping that his father would bridge the
gap of what he was trying to imply.
"Grier, when we make that decision. You know the one. The one to
take a man's life, its not a decision to ever be taken lightly. You're old
enough now to know and perhaps understand that the whereabouts and
when-abouts of life can sometimes work against us, despite our best
intentions, and if we fail to understand that, we risk extending that
judgement in a direction that will betray the best of our nature and
intent. The world, and often people who wield the power of their
collective in abusive ways, they choose who gets to be the good guy, and
who doesn't, and they make those choices based not upon who represents the
best aspirations of humanity, but the best aspirations of their immediate
gain. If you're going to one day lead this family, then you need to
understand that a man can sometimes be made a fool to others, but a group
of men can more often be monstrous without a strong leader. Cruelty finds
more purchase in crowds than it does in individuals, and as a family
leader, you have to be ready to grab hold of the reigns and fight that
tendency of groups away from their cruelest nature. It takes no courage to
hide in the midst of like men. It takes real courage to stand against men
blinded by their own numbers, and if you do, and you lead them right,
they'll respect you, and they'll follow you to the ends of the earth. A
pack of wolves can quickly become feral without a resolute alpha, and if
you're not careful, they can make you feral," Curtis said to his son,
sharing with him the sum of what he'd learned being cultivated by groups
of men who'd understood this all along.
"In a group, we're lost, without a compass, though remember that
ultimately, they collectively choose who looks good and who doesn't, which
means that often, the person who looks the best, might not actually be the
best. When you can come to conclusions despite those illusions to the true
nature of situations and reality, then you're ready to lead," Curtis
took a sip of his whiskey.
"Its about Gus, dad," Grier spoke awkwardly to his father.
"What about him?" Curtis looked from his glass to Grier.
"He wasn't a good man. At all. I saw through him. I saw what he was, and
it wasn't good at all, but he was good at making it look real. Its like
the best of him, it all came from someone else, and that the worst of him,
he was that way simply because he'd never faced the consequences of his
own worst. Its like he was wearing the best of other people, and never
having to answer for his own worst. Someone was feeding that to him, but
making sure he never faced the consequences for his worst," Grier
explained to Curtis, whose eyes narrowed as he looked at his son.
"What are you trying to say, Grier?" Curtis asked him with piercing and
commanding eyes.
"I didn't think that it was right. Him..." Grier declared to his father,
mumbling at first, but then with confidence and commitment.
"And...?" asked Curtis, keeping his eyes firmly on his son.
"I decided that his time was over. That he was done. I don't know how. I
don't know who. I only know that he had someone, or something feeding him
good that wasn't his, and keeping him from answering for what was his,"
Grier said to his father, not removing his glance from his father's gaze.
"I know. My investigator informed me of that, but I needed to hear it from
you," Curtis revealed to his son.
"But that means that you're in danger, doesn't it?" asked Grier, now
feeling the full weight of guilt upon his shoulders, for he understood the
risk of the situation he'd put his father in.
"I received a call three months after the death of Mr. Hilleo from Antonio
Giuseppe Leonaldi. The Sicilian Lion himself," Curtis told his son.
"And...?" Grier looked to his father, astonished at what he was hearing.
"And I took responsibility for Mr. Hilleo's death, though I also told him
the truth. That the contract I'd given Gus was a test of another kind. A
test that Gus himself had failed. When he pulled the trigger, he'd taken
responsibility for the hit. A fact which Mr. Leonaldi himself insisted
would be answered for. One face for another. I knew that you wanted to see
him done. Gus, I mean, but I couldn't let you or anyone else know the
truth of the matter. Leonaldi assured me that with Gus' death, that our
accounts were even. He also told me that if I ever let another man so
absent of honour find employ amongst our kind, that he'd personally
extinguish me himself. And on that note, there was peace once again, but I
knew that there was no such peace in your tormented soul. And so I did the
best that any good father would, and waited for you to talk to me. You
did, and I'm disappointed that you took the actions that you did, but I'm
also proud that you owned it, and trusted me enough to tell me," Curtis
assured his son, holding up his glass.
Grier held his up in like, and together they drank.
"Responsibility is the lynch pin aspect of ownership in life, son. Its a
weakness that other people of lesser scruples than you, can use to justify
taking from you. Stealing from you. Its one that rats attempt to exploit
by creating and falsifying debt against those who rightfully won't take
responsibility for what isn't theirs. Armed with such a weapon in
their arsenal, these rats proceed to remove you from the ranking of those
who take responsibility, and hence your claim to ownership of anything,
especially the things you've worked the hardest to attain. These are the
real rats in life, Grier. Finding ways to leech from everyone else
who makes an honest effort to get ahead in life and earn their way. These
rats are ever in a struggle to escape their perpetually sinking ship. It
was sinking from the moment they made the choice to be a part of it, and
it will be sinking long after their death. That is their plight. Just
remember your place in life, and theirs, and ensure that you never become
them. Abide by what I explained to you makes a good leader, and you'll do
well, and the rats will remain on their sinking ship, but someday you'll
be the Captain, and maybe eventually, the Admiral of your own ship, sailing your way through life and enjoying its bounty to the fullest,"
Curtis stood up with his empty glass in hand, and Grier joined him,
finally absolved of a horrendous weight that had been a strain upon his
life.
"Uhhhh, dad?" Grier said as his father threw his arm around his son's
shoulder, the two of them walking together shoulder to shoulder in the direction of the dining
room and the liquor cabinet by the bar.
"Valerie is a rat," Grier admitted to his father.
"Pardon? What are you saying, son?!!!" Curtis challenged his son,
disbelieving that he was hearing those words from his mouth.
"Her Astrology sign. In Chinese astrology. She's a rat..." Grier said to
his father with a smile on his face.
Curtis too smiled when he'd heard his son's response, for two of his elite
security team were members of the Chinese community. During the quiet
lulls in the course of their days, Curtis had discussed astrology with
them and learned a bit in the process. Not only about them, but also their
history and culture and the signs of the Chinese Zodiac.
"Well that explains a lot. That's quite a productive sign, so I've heard.
No wonder you two are a successful couple. With a girl like her, a busy
little astrological rat, you're bound for a prosperous future together,"
Curtis backtracked enough to give leeway to his son's girlfriend and gave
them both his blessing.
As both Sophia and Curtis suspected empathically of their guests, Valerie was a woman who would soon become Grier's fiancé.
By the time Curtis and Grier had poured fresh drinks at the bar, Sophia
and Valerie had found their way to the dining room from the solarium for
fresh glasses of wine.
The four of them, Sophia, Valerie, Curtis and Grier spent the rest of
their evening finishing the whiskey and wine, and playing a friendly game
of Rummoli at the dining room table and at the end of the night when they
counted up the pot and cashed in, it was Sophia and Curtis that had won.
To be continued in The Butterfly Dragon: Heroes of our Own Reimagined:
Episode 11 - The Point of No Return.
Written by Brian Joseph Johns
Credits and attribution:
Artwork: Amy Wong, Wendy Pusey, Ghastly, Birdman, Brian Joseph Johns, Daz3D, Unreal Engine...
Tools: Daz3D, Corel Painter, Adobe Photoshop, Lightwave 3D, Blender, Stable Diffusion (Easy Diffusion distribution), InstantID, Sadtalker, Google Colaboratory, Microsoft Copilot (Windows 11), Hitfilm, PhotoPea (a great web based Photoshop stand-in if you're on a low budget or in a pinch),
Borderline Obsession...
DeepSeek AI for suggestions on exercises to improve aspects of describing
scene and settings with a more sensory focused grammar.
InstantID by: Wang, Qixun and Bai, Xu and Wang, Haofan and Qin, Zekui and
Chen, Anthony. Research Paper Title: InstantID - Zero-shot Identity-Preserving Generation in
Seconds.
Sadtalker by: Zhang, Wenxuan and Cun, Xiaodong and Wang, Xuan and Zhang, Yong
and Shen, Xi and Guo, Yu and Shan, Ying and Wang, Fei.
Research Paper Title: SadTalker: Learning Realistic 3D Motion Coefficients for
Stylized Audio-Driven Single Image Talking Face Animation.
Gratitude: Our Mentors, Senseis, Sifus, Sebomnims, lifetime
inspirations, family, friends, the Nomads (ask Stanton about
that one), the Music, the Movies, the Theatre, the Arts, ASMR,
(both YouTube and Bilibili and the many other creators on those platforms), the
Gaming and Developer communities and of course, the audience.
Martial Arts (in the words of real experts and
at least one comedian): https://brucelee.com (home of the real Dragon and an entire
family of inspirations), http://iwco.online International Wing Chun Organization (International
presence of a very scalable intensity martial
art, protected and developed by Shaolin Nun Ng Mui) and the alma mater of Jinn Hua's own specialized variation
thereof, https://iogkf.com International Okinawan Goju-Ryu Karatedo Federation
(even Hanshi had his teachers), https://itftkd.sport International Taekwondo Federation (Here there be
Taegers), https://tangsoodoworld.com Tang Soo Do World (the path of Grandmaster Chuck
Norris), https://www.aikido-international.org International Aikido Federation (how else would Navy
Chef Steven Seagal liberate a Nimitz Class Aircraft Carrier
from a team of hijackers?), https://www.stqitoronto.com Shaolin Temple Quanfa Institute (The City Of Toronto's
own Shaolin Temple), https://www.enterthedojoshow.com Master Ken's Ameri-Te-Do presence (If we can't laugh at
ourselves, then we can at least laugh the loudest at others,
and other Zen)
Magic (performance, illusion and perhaps the real
thing): Magic Week Archive (I'm currently growing this section so stay
tuned)
Special thanks to Aitrepreneur, Mickmumpitz, Hugging Face and the YouTube educational content producers, including those catering to the AI content production pipeline and of course AlphaSignal.
Shi Heng Yi Shaolin Training For Self Mastery
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study
the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for
health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
Shi Heng Yi Shaolin Training For Self Mastery
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study
the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for
health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
Jesse Enkamp: Karate Nerd
Jesse, a reknowned Sensei who runs his own dojo, explores the
world of Martial Arts, traveling to many exotic locations to
meet practitioners of a variety of different arts
Sensei Rokas: Martial Arts Journey
A reknowned Sensei of Aikido who in seeking to understand the
roots of Aikido and its applications, seeks to stress test its
effectiveness in a number of real world situations while
studying its history
Iaido: Train For Katana Mastery Like Samurai
The original weapons focused curriculum under which
Samurai became masters of their art
Extensive courses for calisthenics and body strength, stamina
and flexibility
Special thanks to Captain Crunch and his wonderful sister!
Special thanks to Bandcamp for giving indie music artists a home under one roof
Something to give you perspective: The very first teacher had no formal education, didn't
graduate and was self taught, but only because they had no
other choice. We do.
Tools: Daz3D, Corel Painter, Adobe Photoshop, Lightwave 3D, Blender, Stable Diffusion (Easy Diffusion distribution), InstantID, Sadtalker, Google Colaboratory, Microsoft Copilot (Windows 11), Hitfilm, PhotoPea (a great web based Photoshop stand-in if you're on a low budget or in a pinch), Borderline Obsession...
DeepSeek AI for suggestions on exercises to improve aspects of describing scene and settings with a more sensory focused grammar.
InstantID by: Wang, Qixun and Bai, Xu and Wang, Haofan and Qin, Zekui and Chen, Anthony. Research Paper Title: InstantID - Zero-shot Identity-Preserving Generation in Seconds.
Sadtalker by: Zhang, Wenxuan and Cun, Xiaodong and Wang, Xuan and Zhang, Yong
and Shen, Xi and Guo, Yu and Shan, Ying and Wang, Fei.
Research Paper Title: SadTalker: Learning Realistic 3D Motion Coefficients for
Stylized Audio-Driven Single Image Talking Face Animation.
Gratitude: Our Mentors, Senseis, Sifus, Sebomnims, lifetime inspirations, family, friends, the Nomads (ask Stanton about that one), the Music, the Movies, the Theatre, the Arts, ASMR, (both YouTube and Bilibili and the many other creators on those platforms), the Gaming and Developer communities and of course, the audience.
Martial Arts (in the words of real experts and at least one comedian): https://brucelee.com (home of the real Dragon and an entire family of inspirations), http://iwco.online International Wing Chun Organization (International presence of a very scalable intensity martial art, protected and developed by Shaolin Nun Ng Mui) and the alma mater of Jinn Hua's own specialized variation thereof, https://iogkf.com International Okinawan Goju-Ryu Karatedo Federation (even Hanshi had his teachers), https://itftkd.sport International Taekwondo Federation (Here there be Taegers), https://tangsoodoworld.com Tang Soo Do World (the path of Grandmaster Chuck Norris), https://www.aikido-international.org International Aikido Federation (how else would Navy Chef Steven Seagal liberate a Nimitz Class Aircraft Carrier from a team of hijackers?), https://www.stqitoronto.com Shaolin Temple Quanfa Institute (The City Of Toronto's own Shaolin Temple), https://www.enterthedojoshow.com Master Ken's Ameri-Te-Do presence (If we can't laugh at ourselves, then we can at least laugh the loudest at others, and other Zen)
Magic (performance, illusion and perhaps the real
thing): Magic Week Archive (I'm currently growing this section so stay
tuned)
Special thanks to Aitrepreneur, Mickmumpitz, Hugging Face and the YouTube educational content producers, including those catering to the AI content production pipeline and of course AlphaSignal.
Shi Heng Yi Shaolin Training For Self Mastery
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
Shi Heng Yi Shaolin Training For Self Mastery
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
Jesse Enkamp: Karate Nerd
Jesse, a reknowned Sensei who runs his own dojo, explores the world of Martial Arts, traveling to many exotic locations to meet practitioners of a variety of different arts
Jesse, a reknowned Sensei who runs his own dojo, explores the world of Martial Arts, traveling to many exotic locations to meet practitioners of a variety of different arts
Sensei Rokas: Martial Arts Journey
A reknowned Sensei of Aikido who in seeking to understand the roots of Aikido and its applications, seeks to stress test its effectiveness in a number of real world situations while studying its history
A reknowned Sensei of Aikido who in seeking to understand the roots of Aikido and its applications, seeks to stress test its effectiveness in a number of real world situations while studying its history
Iaido: Train For Katana Mastery Like Samurai
The original weapons focused curriculum under which Samurai became masters of their art
The original weapons focused curriculum under which Samurai became masters of their art
Extensive courses for calisthenics and body strength, stamina
and flexibility
Special thanks to Captain Crunch and his wonderful sister!
Special thanks to Bandcamp for giving indie music artists a home under one roof
Something to give you perspective: The very first teacher had no formal education, didn't
graduate and was self taught, but only because they had no
other choice. We do.
This content is entirely produced in Toronto, Ontario, Canada at
200 Sherbourne Street Suite 701 under the Shhhh! Digital Media
banner.
This content is entirely produced in Toronto, Ontario, Canada at 200 Sherbourne Street Suite 701 under the Shhhh! Digital Media banner.
