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Monday, March 2, 2026

Shhhh! Digital Media Presents... The Butterfly Dragon: Heroes of our Own Reimagined: Episode 10 - The Burden of Proof (Updated Monday March 2, 2026 13:15 EST)


Brand new artwork, though remember that this is still early in the entire storyline. Their final costumes are a bit of a ways off. Still, this should give you an idea of what's around the corner. Thank you to Perplexity AI, GPT, Claude, Google AI Studio, Grok, DeepAI, DeepSeek and Photopea.





Chapters

  1. Team is a Four Letter Word
  2. Two weeks later
  3. Bridal Path Party
  4. Jail
  5. The Economy of Second Chances
  6. Twelve years earlier
  7. Sooner or Later?

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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 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 my 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 talent agent he recognized.


"Gus? Haven't seen you for ages. How've you been? You still with Mandel?" asked Max of Gus.


"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 that moment since his having arrived at the party, he completely forgot Laurette. Denice, 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," 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. A massive multi-national ring that led all the way to the front doorstep of Alomera Constanza Zekestes.


Jail


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, not quite sure what to make of him, though ultimately not recognizing him, though 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 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.


"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.


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 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, 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 sinister 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 an exfoliating cleanser his wife like 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 and 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 conceived. The child whose father was thinking of a different woman when making love to her mother.


...


Twelve years earlier



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 him 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 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 own daughter Gloria.


"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 learn today," 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 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, 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 physic 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.


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.


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 who simply given them a variety 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 much of her competitive ambition, in order to ensure that she never became like her. 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 quiet 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.



To be continued...


Note to self. Next episode to be called The Turning Point.

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.


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


Seamus O'Dowd
An extensive growing archive Katas, Techniques and Waza (mostly Shotokan)


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 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.

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