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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
24 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 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 alone. 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 through 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 they had become puppets 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.
To be continued...
Brian Joseph Johns
Credits and attribution:
Special Thanks To Rocket Fuel Lakeshore Blvd West, perhaps the best place in history to get a coffee, circa 2001-2004. Miss you all very much.
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)
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
Seamus O'Dowd
An extensive growing archive Katas, Techniques and Waza (mostly Shotokan)
Extensive courses for calisthenics and body strength, stamina and flexibility
Special thanks to
Canva for inspiring other creators and giving them the tools
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.