Post by Raging Frank Lowe on Nov 12, 2020 9:38:25 GMT -5
In Frank’s living room, Frank’s pacing while Shooter and Noose sit on the couch. The tension in the moment is palpable. Frank walks in circles for an awkward length of time before finally stopping in front of his employees and speaking.
“If I didn’t give a shit about you guys, I would have let them Lost Boys cut your fuckin’ hand off, Shooter! Ain’t it obvious at this point that while I’m a bit of an asshole, I value what you guys bring to the table?”
Shooter looks up to make eye contact with Frank. Frank’s voice and non-verbals had never so passionately communicated earnestness in his life to that point.
“Look, guys… I wanna bury the hatchet. I wanna get back on the same page. And I wanna make sure we fucking run this place. What do I need to do to make that happen?”
Noose’s steely gaze softens as he speaks.
“Frank, we just need respect. That’s… that’s it, man.”
Frank’s brow furrows as Shooter looks on wavering between anger and emotionlessness.
“You boys think I don’t respect you?”
The Hangmen leave Frank’s question hanging unanswered. Frank probes further.
“Really? You think I don’t respect you?”
Shooter looks Frank in the eye and breaks his silence.
“What the fuck is it exactly about how you been treatin’ us that makes you think that’s what respect looks like, Frank? We ain’t your fuckin’ subordinates. We ain’t no slaves. We’re hired help, sure. We’re muscle, sure. Even a beat dog gets to a point that he bites a motherfucker though, Frank. We ready to bite if you even fuckin’ move aggressive at us again, you got me?”
Frank’s head hangs low as his hands come to rest on his hips.
“I got you, guys. I understand. I… I’ll do better.”
Frank lets out a sigh as he removes one of his hands from his hip and runs it through his hair anxiously.
“I just… I wouldn’t be here right now without you two. I… I just want you both to know I know that. After Lacey…”
Frank pauses, struggling to finish his thought. The genuine emotion is flowing from him in a way we’ve never seen before. Frank is vulnerable, raw.
“You know what? Never mind. Just… I’m the best in this business right now, but I wouldn’t stand a chance in a war against the likes of The Lost Breed without you boys. I ain’t lookin’ to die lonesome in a last stand against a whole stable of motherfuckers, and you two… you even the odds. I… I appreciate your loyalty.”
Shooter cocks his head to the side before speaking.
“Frank, don’t get his twisted, man. I ain’t here ‘cause I’m loyal to you. I ain’t here ‘cause my paychecks say Frank Lowe. Nah, man. I’m here ‘cause I get the paycheck, and for the most part, I enjoy the work. As soon as I don’t enjoy the work? I’m fuckin’ gone. You got it? We ain’t pals, man. I ain’t callin’ you to watch the game with me and my boys. I just wanna make it 100 percent clear so there ain’t no misunderstanding, Frank. Noose, here? He’s family. You? You’re an employer.”
Frank appears wounded, but he maintains a strong front.
“Noose, is that how you see it, too?”
Noose looks conflicted. His gaze transfers swiftly between Shooter to Frank. Noose stutters.
“I… I… I like both of ya.”
Shooter rolls his eyes as a weight lifts off of Frank. Frank seeing some light in the tunnel, smiles at his fortune.
“Shooter, you trust Noose, right? Well, as long as Noose trusts me, I’ve got my foot in the door with you, and I’ll work on making you trust me, too.”
“If I didn’t give a shit about you guys, I would have let them Lost Boys cut your fuckin’ hand off, Shooter! Ain’t it obvious at this point that while I’m a bit of an asshole, I value what you guys bring to the table?”
Shooter looks up to make eye contact with Frank. Frank’s voice and non-verbals had never so passionately communicated earnestness in his life to that point.
“Look, guys… I wanna bury the hatchet. I wanna get back on the same page. And I wanna make sure we fucking run this place. What do I need to do to make that happen?”
Noose’s steely gaze softens as he speaks.
“Frank, we just need respect. That’s… that’s it, man.”
Frank’s brow furrows as Shooter looks on wavering between anger and emotionlessness.
“You boys think I don’t respect you?”
The Hangmen leave Frank’s question hanging unanswered. Frank probes further.
“Really? You think I don’t respect you?”
Shooter looks Frank in the eye and breaks his silence.
“What the fuck is it exactly about how you been treatin’ us that makes you think that’s what respect looks like, Frank? We ain’t your fuckin’ subordinates. We ain’t no slaves. We’re hired help, sure. We’re muscle, sure. Even a beat dog gets to a point that he bites a motherfucker though, Frank. We ready to bite if you even fuckin’ move aggressive at us again, you got me?”
Frank’s head hangs low as his hands come to rest on his hips.
“I got you, guys. I understand. I… I’ll do better.”
Frank lets out a sigh as he removes one of his hands from his hip and runs it through his hair anxiously.
“I just… I wouldn’t be here right now without you two. I… I just want you both to know I know that. After Lacey…”
Frank pauses, struggling to finish his thought. The genuine emotion is flowing from him in a way we’ve never seen before. Frank is vulnerable, raw.
“You know what? Never mind. Just… I’m the best in this business right now, but I wouldn’t stand a chance in a war against the likes of The Lost Breed without you boys. I ain’t lookin’ to die lonesome in a last stand against a whole stable of motherfuckers, and you two… you even the odds. I… I appreciate your loyalty.”
Shooter cocks his head to the side before speaking.
“Frank, don’t get his twisted, man. I ain’t here ‘cause I’m loyal to you. I ain’t here ‘cause my paychecks say Frank Lowe. Nah, man. I’m here ‘cause I get the paycheck, and for the most part, I enjoy the work. As soon as I don’t enjoy the work? I’m fuckin’ gone. You got it? We ain’t pals, man. I ain’t callin’ you to watch the game with me and my boys. I just wanna make it 100 percent clear so there ain’t no misunderstanding, Frank. Noose, here? He’s family. You? You’re an employer.”
Frank appears wounded, but he maintains a strong front.
“Noose, is that how you see it, too?”
Noose looks conflicted. His gaze transfers swiftly between Shooter to Frank. Noose stutters.
“I… I… I like both of ya.”
Shooter rolls his eyes as a weight lifts off of Frank. Frank seeing some light in the tunnel, smiles at his fortune.
“Shooter, you trust Noose, right? Well, as long as Noose trusts me, I’ve got my foot in the door with you, and I’ll work on making you trust me, too.”
“It’s XIII. The house of horror. The temple to terror. It’s Friday the 13th, and I’m booked against...Corey Bull, huh? That monster is the next man to fall at the feet of Raging Frank Lowe, huh? Well, how about that shit? I guess it feels right in the grand scheme of things. The Hatebringer versus the kind of man he wishes he could be… Look, Corey Bull has spent his entire career here desperately trying to convince you he’s the kind of man who will do bad things to anyone who stands in his way. He’s worked his ass off to embody intimidation and fear. He’s tried like hell to make the world believe that he is a the kind of maniac that could kill a man.”
“But when I look at who he has attempted to tear apart, I see a lot of people left standing, apparently unaffected by the supposed wars they had with that big softy, Corey Bull. Shaw: still standing, still carrying the All In contract. Teo Blaze: still standing, adding championships to his resume with Bull firmly in his rear view mirror. Lissie: still st… well, she’s on her back but that’s by choice and had nothing to do with Bull. Anyway, the point is that Corey Bull spends an awful lot of time telling the world how bad he is, how dangerous he is, how unhinged he is… I don’t buy any of it, and if you do…? I’ve got a bridge in Brooklyn I can get you a hell of a deal on if you’re into real estate investing.”
“I’m not saying I’m taking this match up lightly either. Look, I know that a 7 footer who tips the scales at 300 plus is at least somewhat dangerous even if he’s exaggerating every damn thing about his own abilities. I get it. A wrong move and he can snatch me up. I understand the concept of a fight and weight classes and size advantage. Fortunately, I’m WAY smarter than that big dumb animal. I have vision he doesn’t have. Right now, I can see the future, and it looks a whole lot like the past: Corey Bull enters the ring to face a champion and he goes home disappointed.”