A Vendetta Served

Part I

"JAMIE ANDERSON, STEP FORWARD!"

The loud throat-pressuring roar from a jail guard startles the prisoner who rises from his bunk in his cell and steps towards the jail barred electronic door. The prison warden is standing with full uniform on facing the prisoner who's eyes move around, startled. The prisoner is a middle aged long blonde haired black man who has tattoos all over his arms and neck, the only tattoos visible which are not covered by the bright orange prison uniform. Anderson sneers at the guards standing around his cell.

Anderson: "There a problem?"

Eventually, the tension is broken by the warden who lifts his cap off his head and waves it in front of his face to cool himself down. The temperature is high enough to see several large puddles of sweat come from the guards and the prisoners alike.

Prison Warden: "You got visitors, Anderson."

Anderson's eyebrows raise in surprise and the door electronically opens while the guards continue to surround the cell. The other prisoners are silent; suggesting this prisoner is a man to be feared. Anderson spits on the clean grey floor and steps in front of the warden's, coming within inches of his faces. The warden is not intimidated and stands his ground.

"Who are they?"

"You'll see in a second."

The warden steps back and lets the guards accompany the prisoner in the direction of the visiting room. Anderson's face turns from an angry snarl at being woken up and not being told who his visitor is from one of surprise at seeing the visiting room completely empty apart from two men standing. Both of them are recognizable as the agents who were investigating Nicky Mills for several charges including that of extortion, armed robbery and murder. Anderson shakes his head slightly before walking towards them and stopping within metres.

"I know you two. Agent Carling, Agent Stone. Isn't this a surprise?"

Agent Carling: "We need to talk to you about Nicholas Mills. You know him, right?"

"That motherfucker..."

Agent Stone: "Something's come up and we need your help. Can we talk to you privately?"

Stone asks the guards in the visiting room to leave while Anderson walks towards one of the empty white painted tables with very simple plastic chairs and takes a seat. The agents sit opposite him, Carling quickly handing the prisoner a file.

"What's this?"

"Nicholas Mills has just recovered from a coma and we want to build a case against him. This is our big chance to nail him and send him to prison for the rest of his life."

"And we need you to tell us about him. You worked for him, right?"

"I did. Not no more."

"What happened, Anderson?"

"I'm not telling you shit."

"Look at the file."

Anderson opens the file and is staring at several surveillance photographs of Mills and Anderson having a conversation outside the Tennessee mansion of Nicky Mills. Other photographs show the scenes of some of the crimes that Anderson has been accused of; including the crime he was eventually jailed for, the murder of two police officers who were apparently 'raiding' one of his drug laboratories. This is proved by other documentation along with the photographs.

"We have a deal for you. And you'll want to listen to this."

"Will I?"

"This is our opportunity to get Nicky Mills off the streets and in jail for the rest of his life. He's becoming a real threat."

"So your coming to me?"

"A few months ago, you were arrested on murder charges in relation to a dealer who went by the street name of 'Lazlo'. But you always maintained your innocence, said that Mills set you up because you fell out with him."

What if he did? What would you do about it?"

"Put him in jail. He's done some truly terrible things but we've never been able to connect him to anything. This time, we've got him for something. But we need more."

"Like what?"

"We both know that Nicky will fight everything but too much will mean he falls down. We need YOU to be one of these cases which makes it 'too much'."

"I want a deal if I tell you everything."

"Name your conditions."

Anderson looks around for other people listening in and realizes that nobody is in earshot. He notices a rather heavy prison guard standing at the door but he is too far away from them to be able to hear them in whispers or low voices.

"He does his time here."

"So you can kill him? I don't think so."

"Hey, I'm a man of love. I wouldn't touch that cat. Can't say the same for some of my guys though who suffered as a result of that lowly piece of shit."

"No deal."

"You guys have been trying to catch Mills for years. I know everything he did. The truth about those brothers... Christian and Travis, the drugs, the murders, everything. I'd give you a shitload and more. All I ask, however, is just for him to be here, that's all."

"We'd be condemning him to death."

"I keep telling you, I'm the man of peace. I wouldn't touch a hair on that cat. But he's a marked man elsewhere, you know."

"He's a marked man?"

"Last I heard. It's either that or no deal. All I want is to be able to see him spending time with the rest of us folk that he's been hustling."

The two agents turn to each other and then back to the prisoner who is rubbing his chin with many thoughts processing through his head. The aura coming from the man is that of a man you would fear. Carling and Stone realize that Anderson is lying and that once Nicky Mills is imprisoned, he will be dead within days thanks to Anderson's gang connections. However, they also don't have much of a choice unless they want to collar Mills for his crimes. For them, the thought of Nicky Mills once again escaping their investigations irritates them. Nicky has outsmarted them on several occasions. This would be the ultimate payback.

"...Tell us everything..."

Audio Tape

Jason Sparks.

Your name has been running through my head ever since I heard you admit that the stabbing was deliberate. I'll admit that when I listened to those words, it was a betrayal that will never be forgotten. Nobody has ever done something so pitiful and pathetic that would allow a fellow wrestler to be hurt in the ring deliberately. You made it look as if you were going to hurt Cameron but then what happened?

You stabbed me with a hunting knife. Which was infected with some substance that gave me blood poisoning. My head slammed straight onto the mat and gave me some brain damage which resulted in amnesia. Certain thoughts and memories I had of my life have been taken away by YOU - you self righteous egotistical asshole. You were jealous that everyone else in Revolution made much more money than you, were more popular than you and better than you could ever be. Even Andy, the man me and Rilo booted out, was a man that could not be replaced. That stupid bitch Carly twisted you to believe that we were preventing you from being the superstar that you were. Pussywhipped, Sparks, is a word that you will never understand even though you show all the characteristics of the meaning.

But forget the insults, Jason. The day you stabbed me was the day you decided to deliver your soul to the Devil himself. I show no mercy onto those who have harmed me. Once upon a time, there was a time where I was considered 'untouchable' in the world. The police always tried to trump up crimes but always fell short when they came sniffing around. I've been involved in many things in my life that I am unafraid of to admit. But the stigma of the accusation that I killed people in the Skydome bombing will stay for me forever. Having my entire family ripped apart as a result of everything I got accused of being involved in. But the day you put that knife in me was the day I realized that you were a traitor scumbag; a low life dog who uses other people to get where he is and then whines about being held down.

Have you suffered the pain I have?

No. And you were jealous of my experience and the attention I got. You were like a Z list celebrity in the eyes of the fans compared to someone like myself, Rilo and the others that were in the group. So you took it upon yourself to try and end my life; make my ex wife suffer, make my children suffer by taking away the one thing that they love. Make my friends believe that you weren't deliberate until they were safely out of the way. Rilo always thought of me as a business associate and so has moved on - it doesn't matter, so has Cameron. But you tore apart Revolution, a stable that had the best names in the business. You tore it apart for your selfish needs. You tried to kill me, Jason, an act that is inexcusable for one wrestler to another. But when I was lying in a coma that nobody knew whether I would come out or not, I began reflecting upon what I should do to you.

I knew you planned it.

Why? The look in your eyes. It looks television wise as if I dived but I saw how you mouthed my name just before you thrust the knife into my chest. At that very moment, I realized you were going to try and end my life. What gives YOU, a lowly scum, the right to try and execute me? And then you ran away because you were too afraid to show yourself to my comrades who were ready to have you killed. When you admitted it, it was a confirmation that I knew exactly what to do to you. I don't care whether people support it or not. But when I finally get the match I crave, no rules, I will show no forgiveness. When I'm done breaking you down mentally and physically piece by piece, Hell will seem like paradise. There is no right and wrong in what I do, there's only the result that comes out which people will judge. But I am your Judge, your Jury and your Executioner.

However, there is a man who I have unfinished business with that I will have my first match back in TnT against. A man that I was once best friends with.I was once his protégé, so to speak.

Jonny Fly.

It's been months since that fateful night that I used your Dynasty Hitmen to betray you and leave you lying in a pool of your own blood. No more Mark Vincent or Chris Wild to save you and the Dynasty was dead and buried. Your only friend was that scumbag Eric Baxter who politicked to take the World belt off me because he was a jealous bitter old fuck. You were different though. You had dreams and ambitions, you weren't afraid to stop anyone who tried to oppose you. You, at one time, were a man who people feared. I was PROUD to be your friend and your wrestling partner.

And then you became what you had always talked about not being; a has been.

We were the Godfathers of Professional Wrestling. We had wrestling by the balls. You and me, we had a bond that was stronger than anyone's. But I began noticing you weren't yourself anymore. You were changing from a great man to a piece of shit. Kent saw it too; he began talking of dumping you and using him and the Dynasty Hitmen to go further to the top. At first, I ignored him. Every man has his low point and you were hitting yours. I know how it feels. But it went days and weeks and nothing was changing. The final straw came when I had a conversation with you once when travelling to the show where I would turn on you. Sitting on my private jet with alcohol all around us, you began drinking yourself to a stupor. And you said the words that finally made up my mind;

"I'm not the man I used to be. Maybe I should quit this shit."

I made the decision because you had become a lowly pathetic piece of shit with nothing but a mouth. You let those scumbags control you and take your life away. You were my best friend and I couldn't see you like this. Beating you into an injury so bad that you would quit the business for a while seemed like the only thing to do. Of coarse I had business tactics for doing so; destroying you would make me a bigger star than I could have anticipated. But watching you bleed and cry in that ring was pitiful.

Do I regret my actions?

Mills pauses for several moments before delivering the answer to his question.

Not on your life.

Because I've seen what you have become ever since you came back. After seeing your match with Corwin, you've already weakened yourself against a man who will be training hard to be able to make an impact people will never forget. What you did to Strong was justified but a real low for you. If you wanted to come after the man who set it all up, come to me. I'm the one who beat you down in front of thousands of fans, I'm the one who took away your 'Hitmen' and made you a temporary cripple. You knew exactly what you were dealing with and instead, you acted like a damn pussy. I have no respect for you as a man, Jonny. As a wrestler, it's a different story. We go back a long way. And I know you want your revenge bad so there will be nobody at ringside. I've waited too damn long for this match to let it be tainted by either the Hitmen, Kent or Jason. If he even comes near the ring, I'll slice his throat from ear to ear. You have my word on that.

But I saw your little interview with Cole. Do you really think I'm afraid of you? Man, I want this match as much as you do. In my entire career, I've always been compared to you. My legal troubles, my successful shot at Hollywood and my deaths in the family. The tabloids and fellow wrestlers think I'm some 'carbon' copy of you, and they say that just to piss me off and because of all the shit they know has happened between us and want to put gasoline on the fire so it turns out into an all out war. You and I have unfinished business.

However, Jason Sparks is going to find out how it feels to be tortured. Physically. Mentally.

And it's going to hurt like hell until my revenge has been served. Stabbing me was a bad idea because you just pissed off the wrong man. I spent weeks, months in that hospital bed. All because of YOUR BULLSHIT! Jason knew exactly what I was capable of if someone ever tries to hurt me. Just ask Travis Williams. On second thoughts, better not because he's pushing up daises due to his... ahem... 'unfortunate accident'. When you dream, I'm always there hurting you. My dreams are your nightmares. Your pain and misery is my satisfaction. Heed these words and run. Your a deadman.

And for those feds still trying to dig shit up on me, you'll never touch me. You wont even come close to getting a goddamn thing on me. For years, I've had you crawling up my ass.

Keep trying, you bunch of fucking cockroaches.

"...So you finally understand just how sly and sadistic that fuck is."

"Travis worked for him?"

"The Venetian massacre was their idea. They stole a U.S Army helicopter and went in there packing. They killed Robert Colitri's men, stole eighty million dollars from the safe and then shot the boss himself in his apartment. And if that wasn't bad, Travis turned on the guy because of some shit with the brother."

"So THAT'S why Nicky faked his death!"

"He was running from him?"

"From what I know, Lunacchio was after him too. I think Travis ended up working for the guy."

"Vincent Lunacchio was involved?! This just gets better and better."

"Wait a second... he was killed a few months after the attempt."

"Bingo. Mills."

The agents begin to put the pieces together. Several months after Nicky Mills 'faked' his death, Don Vincent Lunacchio was killed at his Italian restaurant in Brooklyn, New York. They know now that the shooter was none other than Nicky Mills. However, another man was seen beating up Vincent several minutes before the shooting. Agent Stone remembers arriving at the blood stained crime scene and finding the former mob boss dead with a gunshot wound from a berretta. Could it be that Mills possibly carried out the murder as a retaliation to the attempted murder? Anderson reads the file, slowly turning the pages with his index finger and thumb together.

"Jeremy Cundiff has been missing for a long time. You know anything about that?"

"No way would Nicky kill him. He's one of his best friends. I heard he went to Europe after his brothers got killed. I hear things but you got to do the work."

"Listen... would you testify in court if we were to have him arrested?"

"I want my sentence reduced and him in the same prison as I am. If you do that..."

Anderson pauses for several seconds to look at the final page of the folder which has a photo of the dead body of Don Vincent Lunacchio, the face of the old Lunacchio crime family boss expressing shock, his blue eyes wide open and his mouth gaping wide while pieces of his brain can be seen on the floor. He looks up at the two FBI agents with a grin painted across his face.

"Then we have a deal."