Pteroid Posted August 4, 2017 Share Posted August 4, 2017 http://i.imgur.com/aPR9JrZ.jpg "Oh jeez...oh man...oh jeez...OH MAN..." Mark Smart was not having a good day. Frankly Mark Smart wasn't having a good few years to be honest, three years ago he'd gotten involved with a con-artist posing as a pro wrestler and helped him run his fraudulent money-laundering promotion for the better part of a year. Of course, this being something this poor luckless nerd was involved in, it ended in tears with the FBI raiding the place and arresting the imposter Jack Avatar and hauling him away under arrest for both this and probably many maaaaany other crimes. "I should've known it was too good to be true..." Of course it wasn't like his career was anything great before or since, just long stretches of unemployment sometimes broken up by a jobber appearance in USPW...where he'd ended up getting bullied by Redwood and Valentine. Oh also there was that time he ate the wrong brownies and thought he worked for a talking purple cat. That was a weird weekend. "Friggin' Portland..." Currently he was in a small conference room, sat in a chair, and looking nervously at the bottle of Coca Cola sitting on it. Men in suits stood at the only door and hadn't responded to his questioning aside from delivering his beverage when asked and informing him that he could not in fact leave until their superiors had had a word with him. Though Mark supposed that it was better they kept silent, much easier for him to give bitter expository comments. Somewhere in the back of his mind the name 'Avatar' kept repeating in his head, it had to be that guy's fault he was here, plucked off the streets of San Francisco and shoved into what he believed to either be a FBI-owned building or some kind of criminal hideout. He was currently hoping that whichever side had him in his clutches, they'd go easy on the waterboarding. Finally the door the two besuited men were guarding opened and a balding hispanic man carrying a briefcase stepped in: http://i.imgur.com/FyDmt1m.jpg "Mr. Smart, a pleasure to meet you. I'm Agent Frederique Marquez, FBI." Mark breathed a sigh of relief, ok, so now it was clear he was marginally less likely to be tortured. Marquez took a seat across the conference table, placing the briefcase on it as he adjusted his tie and gave Mark a winning smile. "Now I figure you're not sure what you're here for, are you son?" Marquez steepled his fingers, elbows resting on top of the case. "N-no sir," Mark said timidly, "I mean...if this is about Full Throttle-" "It is," Marquez assured him. "W-well then I'm not sure what else you need from me, I-I only told you what I knew and I didn't say a word about it to anybody else," Mark tried to keep calm, WAS there something he'd neglected to tell the Feds? His heart raced and his mind reeled as his brain replayed every misdeed he'd ever done since putting paste in his older sister's' hair when he was four, trying to find something that Agent Marquez could have possibly brought him in for- "Son, your country needs your help," Marquez said bluntly, snapping Mark out of his panic attack. "I'm sorry?" Mark blinked, events suddenly taking a turn for the less terrifying more absurd as his mind instead began replaying his accomplishments that would merit Uncle Sam coming to his door hat in hand...it was a very shorter list than the misdeeds. "How familiar area you with Operation Lullaby?" Marquez asked, opening his briefcase and retrieving a file folder. "Uhh...not very? I mean there's been rumors about the FBI having agents posing as wrestlers but I wrote that off as some kind of Fact Fighters conspiracy thing...y'know like flouride turning frogs-yeah, that," Mark twiddled his thumbs, trying not to annoy the agent. "The bigwigs in Washington," Marquez began, tapping the folder, "Are beginning to get restless about how long our operations are taking. It's their belief that we're not covering our bases as far as Lullaby's ultimate goal." "And...that goal is?" Mark leaned in. "Son, do ya really wanna know?" Marquez arched an eyebrow, "Because once you know, you're committed, and until then you can back out with an NDA and a pat on the back." Mark gulped and adjusted his glasses, "Uhm...I'll keep my distance for now." "Right, suffice it to say we've been receiving criticism that a secondary operation is in order, one that tackles the other side of the wrestling process, the creative aspect. It's been argued that a man could be more likely to rise in the ranks quicker if he showed a creative aptitude rather than being one of many interchangeable athletes," Marquez glared at the folder, "That's why the FBI and IRS joint task force has seen fit to greenlight Operation Cuckoo and our primary subject asked for you specifically to be his right hand man in creative." "Uh...huh..." Mark blinked, someone asked for him to help in some kind of FBI booking operation? It seemed insane... "Son, I'm not gonna lie to you, this is important work you'll be doing, work that could mean the downfall of one of the most flagrant tax cheats in American history," Marquez laid the folder on the table, "You say yes to this and you will never be out of work for the rest of your days so help me god." Mark looked at Marquez, then to the file, then to his coke, which he took a loooooong swig of before running a hand through his hair. What the hell. Beat getting a towel whipped at his ass by a couple of hasbeens. "I'm in," He nodded and immediately found the file slid to his side of the table, thick with secrets that he was now privy to. "Excellent," Marquez nodded, pressing his fingers on an intercom mic Mark only now noticed was there, "Bring him in." Mark looked up as the door to the room opened again and his heart dropped as he saw the man who walked in with him. The man he just pledged himself to help in the name of Law, Justice, and Country. The man who'd conned him into helping him run Full Throttle Wrestling. http://i.imgur.com/DL1UqYC.jpg "Markyyyy! Long time no see, my man!" Jack was Back. http://i.imgur.com/ztqfu1Z.jpgCHICAGO CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING: SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT, CHICAGO STYLE! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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