Cambodian Gym Jungle Boogie

With a grunt, the taped fist of Von Brandt rocked against the worn heavy bag one last time. Under the dull glow of the fluorescent lights fixed to the ceiling of the dingy Cambodian gym, Von Brandt turned away from his workout. In the frame of the door stood Conrad Dukes, closing his umbrella and shaking off the residual of rain water before he leaned it against the wall.

Reaching the taped hand up to slick his sweat-soaked bangs from his eyes and back along his head, the head of security strutted the length of the room to his employer, his head lowered and gaze staring out from beneath his brow. A snarl crossed his lips.

Von Brandt: Whatcha mean?

Conrad Dukes: I believe this may be the first time in your life you've dedicated yourself to physically embodying the man you’ve attempted to portray. But I do suppose that’s to be expected after you find yourself on the receiving end of an upset and the attempted mutiny which proceeds the exposure of a commanding officer to be a fraud, don’t you agree?

The Director of Security’s snarl intensified, stepping forward to grab Dukes by the collar.

Von Brandt: I wouldn’t let anyone besides you talk to me like that and walk out of here with a mouthful of teeth.

His fist balled and cocked back - the man in his clutches never losing his smile.

Conrad Dukes: I intend no insult, MIster Von Brandt - merely offering a casual observation and perhaps a token of congratulations. The vicissitudes of fate - you being conscripted into another match by the same man who shattered that illusion surrounding you - well, it’s all quite ironic, is it not? One could even gander it to be something of a redemptive moment. That being said…

Dukes reached up, his hand coming to rest gently on the wrist of the outstretched fist which gripped the collar of his raincoat.

Conrad Dukes: You ought to release me.

There was a pregnant pause between them. The grip loosened and Von Brandt turned from his employer, walking back to the heavy bag.

Von Brandt: So is this all you came here to do? Get a little laugh at all this?

Conrad Dukes: MIster Von Brandt, I’m appalled. After all this time, I felt we’d developed the rapport and relationship where I could visit a friend.

A fist flew out, striking the heavy bag.

Von Brandt: You don’t have friends.

Conrad Dukes: Oh, don’t be so dour and accusatory. You may offend me.

A second and third strike in quick succession.

Von Brandt: I know your game. There’s something you’re here to tell me.

Conrad Dukes: Well if you’re adamant about business superseding pleasure, I suppose there are matters I wish to discuss, yes.

Von Brandt let out a dry laugh.

Von Brandt: The Kindo kid?

Conrad Dukes: One of many, yes, but one nonetheless. You’ve noticed, I’m sure, that he’s taken a shine towards more sensitive and coveted materials owned by my employer.

Von Brandt: Can’t say I have.

Conrad Dukes: Then I’m glad to have brought you up to date. MIster Kindo is concerning, Mister Von Brandt, not because he’s particularly subtle but he is clever and committed. I do not believe that if the two of you were to prevail and capture the Tag Team Championships he would be content with merely owning on lease a sample of the material; I believe he’d pry it from the faceplate with a screwdriver and immediately concern himself with acquiring more. I’m rather partial to the integrity of our championships, and I’d prefer them remain unblemished. I’d like you to keep an eye on him.

Von Brandt: You want me to fuckin’ baby sit the kid so he doesn’t draw on the walls?

Conrad Dukes: An apt if crude comparison, yes.

Von Brandt: And that request brought you all the way down here? Couldn’t have left a voicemail or sent a text?

Conrad Dukes: There’s more.

Dukes reached into his coat, withdrawing an envelope. Extending it out to the Director of Security was enough to pause the routine once more.

Von Brandt: What’s this?

Conrad Dukes: Extracurricular activity from my employer.

Von Brandt took the envelope, opening it up. As he slid the photograph and accompanying dossier of notes for inspection, he cocked an eyebrow.

Von Brandt: Her, huh?

Conrad Dukes: Her.

Von Brandt: Iiiinteresting. Whatcha want done: silenced, kept safe, or?

Conrad Dukes: Kept safe, yes. I don’t see the need for escalation of threat just yet; our friend is a thoughtful, capable person, do you not agree?

Von Brandt scoffed.

Von Brandt: Oh sure. Real thoughtful.

Conrad Dukes: Expedience is key. My employer is preparing his grand unveiling this New Year, and there are some fantastic machinations in play. It’s far too late in our timeline for any further distractions or unnecessary risks. I’d like her in our custody, MIster Von Brandt, and I’d like it within the week. I don’t care the lengths you go - hire a contractor for all I care - but the moment you’re finished with Mister Kindo in that ring, you dedicate yourself to this task. Take the boy along with you, if you must.

Von Brandt crossed the gym to a bench, sitting down and picking up a towel to wipe his face. His eyes returned to the picture in his hand.

Von Brandt: Oddly forward of you, just there.

Conrad Dukes: I’m sure you can fathom why. We’ve learned something this past year, Mister Von Brandt, and it’s that kidnapping has been fairly successful a tool of coercion. Why deviate from a successful formula?

Von Brandt: And my take home?

Conrad Dukes: Well, I do have holiday bonuses to distribute, don’t I?

Von Brandt: Consider it done.

When Dukes left, Von Brandt returned to his workout for thirty more minutes. And when that had ceased, he collected his belongings and loaded them into the black duffle bag he’d kept them in. But before he turned off the lights and closed the door behind him, he looked down at the picture one last time.

Von Brandt: That’s what happens when you have shitty friends.