No Remorse: Hopeless

The Brass Knucks Nightclub
February 9th 2016; 12:32am

People thought I was crazy when I told them. “You’re an alcoholic, a recovering addict, you shouldn’t be opening a nightclub.” Screw them. That’s fear talking and fear is for the weak. Trace Demon isn’t weak, he’s a god, he’s mothering Lucifer with better style. I’m not gonna relapse just because I own a bloody club, if anything it’s the opposite. I’m a businessman, and a businessman doesn’t mess with his own product when he wants to make a profit. Course nobody believed me, all said I’d have relapsed in a week.


Elinor Nix: Club’s been open a few weeks, already on the way to turning a profit on your investment, gotta say that’s impressive.


Of course I was right. Haven’t touched a drop either.


Elinor Nix: And that’s not even mentioning the money coming in from the off the books stuff.


Trace Demon: Less of that in the club Elinor, you don’t know who’s listening, and I didn’t get here by shouting out my dealings to the world.


Elinor Nix: I’m just saying, you should be proud.


Trace Demon: I’m always ing proud, have you seen me?


Part of me is ashamed to say it, but since Alexa died I’ve been more on the ball than ever. I’ve gained back that side of me that I toned down for her sake. I’m juggling so many things that I should be breaking down already. Emily, Caitlyn, Eliza, the WFWF, the gym, the off the books stuff and now this club, not to mention half a dozen small ventures that I outsource. But it’s all under control. Look ma, watch me ing juggle.


Trace Demon: When is he scheduled for?


Elinor Nix: Should be here within the hour.


I watch the club from my private balcony. Doubles as an office when I need a real getaway from things, but it’s also the perfect place to look out over my new kingdom. To watch the girls writhe, the guys make fools of themselves, to see the drinks flow and the first signs of a mistake that’ll be regretted in the morning made. The place has been full every night we’ve been open, because these people know that if they come here they’ll always leave with a story. The off the menu items make sure of it.


Trace Demon: Make sure they bring him in through the back door, I don’t want him getting the chance to himself up before we talk. I want the kid lucid enough to know what I’m offering him, got it?


Elinor Nix: I’m not an ameuter Trace.


Trace Demon: Right. Guess I’ve spent too long around people like Anders to remember what competency is.


Right, right. Elinor. My new right hand woman. I guess I’ve got a bit of explaining to do, right?


< *** >

BLD
December 19th 2015; 9:22am


Let me set the scene for you. There I am, digging into a ricotta blueberry pancake. And I know, ricotta blueberry? When the hell did Trace Demon get so damn fancy. Well guess what, when you find the best pancakes in Los Angeles then you don’t give a damn how pretentious you feel eating them. Anyway, there I am, halfway through breakfast when this woman-


Elinor Nix: Trace Demon.


Yeah her, you’ve met her. Anyway, she just shows up and-


Elinor Nix: This seat taken?


Exactly, just sits down opposite me, mid-bite of a delicious pancake. Now if that was me I’d at least let the guy finish his pancake, show some common courtesy I mean come on, we’re not animals.

Trace Demon: I know you?


Elinor Nix: Elinor Nix Mr. Demon, we’ve got a meeting today.


Trace Demon: Last I checked that meeting was scheduled for this afternoon, in my office.


Elinor Nix: I don’t like offices Mr. Demon, they bore me.


Trace Demon: That does not explain how you found me here.


Elinor Nix: I do my background, it wasn’t difficult to find out that you come here every other morning after an early gym session. I thought you’d be more comfortable talking here than in your office.


Trace Demon: It’s a very nice attempt at bonding Ms. Nix, but every time you speak all I can think is why is this woman interrupting me during my breakfast.


Short story is I am not a man who cares for organization. I’m not the type to talk about doing things, I just like to do them. That doesn’t work in business, so with Alexa gone I needed someone to keep me centred. Couldn’t trust Anders to be competent with something like this so I went hunting for the best personal assistant I could find. And by best I meant the one who could be discreet while getting crapdone. This was, by all accounts, the woman I wanted.


Course the black hair, smoldering eyes and -me-smile helped too.


Elinor Nix: Trace-


Trace Demon: Mr. Demon.


Elinor Nix: Nah, I’ll stick to Trace if it’s all the same to you.


She changed tacts the moment she realized that she couldn’t sweet talk me. Got firm. That’s a crapton sexier than the smile.


Elinor Nix: You know you’re hiring me. You’ve seen my credentials, know the kind of men I’ve worked for. The only people that even know about me are the kind that need a person like me.


That’s when I finished the last bite of my pancake, which everyone knows is the official start of the business day.


Trace Demon: And what kind of person is that?


Elinor Nix: Discreet, reliable, trustworthy. The type of person who isn’t afraid of… let’s call it less than straight-forward work for less than straight-forward people. You’ve got businesses to run, and then you’ve got businesses to run. You want someone who can help with both, am I right?


Trace Demon: I’m gonna be blunt with you Elinor, blunt and honest. I’m not an easy man to work for. I’m demanding, don’t care about anyone but me and my family and I’ve got destructive tendencies. To others, not to myself. This is not a nine-to-five job, it’s not the kind of job that allows for slacking off, and I’m not the kind of man who gives second chances. I give you this job and you up then that’s you done.


Elinor Nix: I don’t up.


I liked her confidence, means she’s easy to manipulate. The confident always are.


Trace Demon: Another thing. I don’t want someone who’s gonna say yes to everything I say. It’s a dangerous precedent, the kind that’ll you and me over. I don’t trust people who don’t speak their mind, you got it?


Elinor Nix: I don’t think that’ll be a problem.


Trace Demon: Good, you can start next week, I’ll get the details sorted.


I rose from the seat, breakfast was done, and I had a meeting with a certain World Champion to attend regarding Showtime.


Elinor Nix: Oh one more thing Trace.


I glanced back to see the biggest shit-eating grin on her face.


Elinor Nix: I won’t sleep with you.


She would. Wouldn’t even take two weeks. And she knew it too.


< *** >

The Brass Knucks Nightclub
February 9th 2016; 1:04am


Elinor Nix: He’s here Trace.


Trace Demon: Send him in and give us some space, will you?


She heads down and in a matter of moments my guest walks up the stairs onto the balcony. The guy’s tried to make an effort, fit in with the high rollers down below. Bless these young guns trying to play ball with the starting line..


Lucas Crowe: This is a nice place man.


Trace Demon: Enjoy it after, we’ve got business. Take a seat.


Lucas Crowe: Yeah, about that, why’re we meeting here? I thought you’d have a big fancy office to do this kind of thing in.


Kids these days.


Trace Demon: There’s a time for an office and a time to keep things off the books. You worked in a bar before, right? Bouncer?


Lucas Crowe: Yeah, not quite as… extravagant as this place.


Trace Demon: Well then you’ll know the importance of keeping things quiet. Some things you want people to know, others you don’t, right?


Lucas Crowe: I get you. So what’s so important you called me out at one in the morning anyway?


Straight to the point, good. Small talk’s only worth it when there’s a girl involved.


Trace Demon: I want to make you an offer.


Lucas Crowe: I’ve already got one rich guy funding me, I don’t think I need another.


Trace Demon: Right, Justin Tyme. The man who’s so successful that nobody could actually remember his accomplishments if asked to list them. Why don’t you tell me how many times you’re boss has headlined Superbrawl?


Lucas Crowe: Um…


Trace Demon: Exactly. Doesn’t matter though, I’m not here to try and drag you away from father Tyme’s creepy, homo-erotic grasp. I don’t care who you hang with outside of the fed, doesn’t bother me one bit. What I care about is whose side you’re on in it.


Doesn’t mean that sooner or later I won’t be dealing with Justin Tyme, but the old retiree doesn’t scare me. I’ll just go burn his mansion down. Oh wait, pretty sure he’s done that himself way back when.


Trace Demon: See Luke, you may have noticed by now that there’s something of a power struggle going on. Josh and Sam seem to think that I’m a bad man. You know why they think that?


Lucas Crowe: Maybe because you are?


Trace Demon: Not quite. I’m not a bad man, I’m a man looking out for number one, same as you, same as everyone whether they want to admit it or not. You tell me Luke, what would you do to make sure that you had the best possible life going? Or to make sure that the people you care about can live comfortably? More importantly, what would you do to make sure that you kept that National Championship around that waist of yours?


He doesn’t answer, not right away. Means one of two things. Either he’s considerably less intelligent that I’m giving him credit for and he’s actually got to consider it. Or he’s got to pretend to consider it to make out as if he isn’t the same as people like me and Drakz. Sooner or later though and he gives me the answer I’m expecting.


Hint. It’s sooner.


Lucas Crowe: Anything. I’d do anything.


Trace Demon: Precisely. You’d do anything because you’re a smart guy, because you recognise that anyone trying to stop you getting exactly what you want is the enemy. And they are the enemy Luke, rest assured.


Lucas Crowe: It’s Lucas, not Luke.


Trace Demon: Don’t care, you should know that. See Luke, you want to know why I’m an alcoholic who owns a nightclub?


Lucas Crowe: I’m sure you’re gonna tell me whether I want to or not.


Now he’s learning.


Trace Demon: Because I know what I’m capable of, and I know what I want. Which means I know exactly what I’m willing to do to get what I want, and I don’t have this hiccup of worrying what other people think about me. See Luke, if people like Lila, Josh and Sam had the balls that I do then they’d be where I am right now. Instead they’re trying to pretend they’re big, scary guys without ever actually getting any crapdone. End of the day people forget about the likes of Josh Dean and Samael Ahriman. Just ask Yukio Blaze. Nobody remembers the good guys, they remember people like Drakz. Like Michael Kyzer. Like Phillip Schneider. And yes, like yours truly.


Lucas Crowe: I get it Trace.


Trace Demon: I’m not sure you do Lucas, so let me drive the point home. People remember the people who go out and do whatever it takes to get the job done because they’re the ones who win. Soon enough you’re gonna have to make a choice, and it’s a pretty simple one. You either be like us and you get everything you deserve or you be like them, in which case you’ll end up coming face to face with me or Drakz in that ring and terrible things will happen.


Lucas Crowe: You don’t make a lot of friends with threats you know.


Trace Demon: Do I look like I give a crapabout friends? Make your choice Luke, make it soon, because I’m giving you the opportunity to stand alongside myself and make yourself a star. My advice? You take it.


The guy looks shellshocked, and to be fair to him I basically just dangled an atom bomb over his career.


Trace Demon: Elinor, why don’t you show Lucas around the club, make sure he has a good time? It’ll give him an opportunity to consider his options.


Lucas doesn’t say anything as he stands, just stares me down. I’m not entirely sure what he’s thinking, but here’s hoping for his sake that he’s deciding what car to buy when I make him a household name.


Trace Demon: Make the right choice Luke.


Lucas Crowe: I will, for me.


He follows after Elinor, and by the end of the night I’m sure he’ll be too ed up to care about any of this. That’ll come tomorrow. I pull my phone out, hit his number in and let it ring. When he answers he sounds groggy.


Drakz: What the man, have you seen the time?


Trace Demon: Sorry, figured you’d be balls deep in some asian girl by now.


Drakz: It’s Tuesday, you know I take Tuesday off. Just cut to the chase.


Trace Demon: I just spoke to Justin Tyme’s little apprentice.


Drakz: And?


Trace Demon: I think he’ll make the right decision. And if he doesn’t, well-


Drakz: We’ll show him why he should have.


Trace Demon: Exactly Drakz, exactly.


Things are starting to get fun.


< *** >

The Brass Knucks Nightclub
February 9th 2016; 2:14am


There’s a reason I specifically chose Shapiro for this match, and it all comes down to a very simple term. Only the strong survive. See, the way this world works, the thing that nobody wants to talk about, is that the strong get everything they want, and the weak sit at the bottom, letting people take advantage of them. It’s a fact of life, whether you want to admit it or not. And you don’t, nobody does, and so you build this big lie to pretend there’s a chance that you can thrive despite being weak.


The lie is called hope.


See hope is this concept that no matter who you are, no matter how bad it gets, no matter what happens, things can get better. You keep a little hope inside yourself and you keep fighting. Whoever came up with the concept of hope is the very reason so many of you fail to ing achieve anything, because they start believing in some idea rather than accepting that you’ve actually got to go out, make some hard decisions, put some graft in and take what you damn well please.


You get where I’m going with this, right? Course you do.


Everyone around here knows Shapiro likes to call himself The Hope Dealer, so I’m gonna forgo the usual daft crap of explaining what that means to you all. Instead I’m gonna show you what hope does to a person.


You see all these people dancing, drinking, taking whatever they please to themselves up. As I walk through this horde I can tell that most of them don’t give a crapabout hope, because they’re already doing what they want, at least for tonight. And even if it is for one night these people are ridding themselves of something utterly pathetic. Most of them. But they’re not my focus. My focus is on the girl doing shot service as she stops in the backroom to refill. This being my bar, I intercept.


Trace Demon: How’s the floor looking?


Zara Wills: It’s good boss, people are loving it tonight.


She’s hot, that goes without saying though. I’m not stupid. I’m not going to hire some average looking girl to walk the floor selling shots. I want to make money after all. No, this girl is hot. Long brunette hair, deep blue eyes, slim but not stick thin, legs that any man would kill for just to get between them. She’s the real deal.


Problem is, she’s 19. No, not my problem you idiots. The government’s problem, because drinking age around here is 21, stupid as that may be. Means I’m breaking the law having her work here, but a little birdy tells me the law won’t be bothering my club any time soon, so I’m not too fussed.


Trace Demon: Right. Look, Zara, we’ve got a small problem. I was looking over your forms again, payroll and all that, and I think there’s a problem with the date of birth on there.


Again, her age isn’t my problem at all. But it is hers.


Zara Wills: Um, what d’you mean?


She immediately gets nervous. The girl isn’t a liar by nature, she told one little white lie because she needed to make some cash. More on that in a minute.


Trace Demon: Well, I’m pretty sure it’s wrong.


Zara Wills: But, you saw my ID, you know how-


Trace Demon: I know a fake ID when I see it.


See I’m not stupid. I ran background checks on every single person who I hired here, because there’s a chance that they’ll end up seeing some stuff that I’d rather the public not know about. I needed people I can trust to keep their mouths closed. So of course I found out about Zara’s age.


Zara Wills: Boss I-


Trace Demon: Look, this doesn’t have to be a big thing, I don’t want to get you into any trouble. But you know how bad it’ll look if it turns out I hired someone underage.


She’s not nervous anymore. Nah, that’s gone, replaced by the first hints of tears. Like I said, background checks, I know all about the girl, and I know that she lied for a good reason.


Zara Wills: Please, I need this job. I’ve got school during the day and if I don’t have the money then-


Then she’ll be kicked out, because the good old government ed up on her loan applications. She’s also got a mother working a dead end supermarket job who can barely pay the rent on a shitty apartment and a brother who needs new school shoes. Again, I know.


Zara Wills: -needs new school shoes. Please, I need the money.


I can see the hope in her eyes and it makes me feel sick. She hopes I’m going to keep her on, she hopes I’m going to keep paying her, she hopes that I’m not going to kick her out the door on the perfectly rounded ass. She hopes that she can keep going to school. She hopes, she hopes, she hopes. Hope is for the weak, remember? That’s the message of the day.


Trace Demon: Look, Zara, I get it. Hard times and all that. I’ve been there. I’m not going to fire you.


Zara Wills: Oh god, thank you, thank you so much.


Hope blinds the weak to the truth. As long as you’ve got hope, as long as you let that be your guide, then you’ll never stop the strong taking what they want from you.


Trace Demon: Stick around after closing tonight, alright? We’ll have a drink and we’ll see if there’s anyway we can bump your responsibilities up, make you a bit more money, make things a bit easier for you.


Zara Wills: You’d do that for me?


Trace Demon: We’re a family here, we stick together-


Nearly threw up in my throat saying that one.


Trace Demon: -I get that things are hard, but you got to have a little hope, right?


Zara Wills: Right.


She smiles. She’s pathetic.


Trace Demon: Go on, go finish up, I’ll see you after your shift.


Zara Wills: Thank you, I mean it, really thank you.


She rushes off to keep working, and I wonder how she or anyone likes her ever copes with the real world. Tonight she’ll join me for a drink (non-alcoholic of course), she’ll talk about her shitty hope-filled life, she’ll cry on my shoulder, she’ll get emotional, she’ll go in for a kiss and I’ll let her. Then she’ll bend over and let me do whatever I want to her, because she’s full of hope and no common sense.


Shapiro, Josh Dean, Lila Sleater, Samael Ahriman, anyone else who thinks that doing the right thing and hoping it’s enough is the way to go about living. You’re no different to that little blonde haired bitch who’ll soon find out that getting screwed up the ass is painful, both literally and metaphorically. The only difference is that for you there’s no pleasure at the end of it. No returning the favour, no money-shot, not even so much as a “good job”. No, all you get for your effort is a beating and a whole lot of humiliation as myself and Drakz show you exactly what happens when hope filled boys get in the ring with actual men.


Sadly Shap’ my boy you’re first up for the chopping block, and I’m gonna have to make an example out of you. The WFWF is now survival of the fittest, and if I get my way hope is going the way of the dodo. You calling yourself The Hope Dealer just made you a natural fit for me to send a message, and god do I love a message. It’s a damn shame too, because you always did have a bit of talent in you. Sadly you had to go and preach about what a good person you are. You beat people up for a living kid, nothing good about that let me tell you. At least by the time I’m finished with you you’ll have a reason to get yourself a better nickname.


Because it’ll sure be hard to deal out hope when I’ve kicked you in the head a dozen times over. You’ll be lucky if you can even remember your name. Though what kind of name is Shapiro anyway?


And that’s coming from a guy called Demon so you know your parents gone ed up.