Love, Paranoia & Heartache

The first guard was down no problem. Took him down like a chump. Now all Clyde needed to do was take down the other guard. Sadly for him though that wouldn't be the case since as soon as he turned around, he caught 60000 volts straight into his chest. "Y-Y-AAAAGGHHHHH!!!" Clyde would yell out before his felt his legs just shut down, prompting Clyde to collapse on the floor, losing his treasured cowboy hat as he went down, writhing around from the sharp, burning pain that coursed through his body.

"Ugghhh... My... knee blastin' yo' Jaw... sure as hell wasn't fake.... ya ugly sonova-Ugh!" Clyde would say to the guards before he kicked in his ribs. That really hurt too and he was already worn out from work today, so in short, Clyde was just hurting all over now.

He thought he was pretty much done for and was going to be taken to jail. Not the worst thing he's done but he didn't want to go back their, regardless if it was in another country. Then Clyde heard a voice over the intercom, giving the two guards new order. But Clyde's eyes would widen as when he heard the voice state he was going to be kept until morning.

"W-W-Wah... N-No... I gotta go back home...I want my phone call.... And my Hat... Need my Hat..." Clyde would mutter out lowly as he was handcuffed and hauled away, without his cowboy hat, taken up to the 24th floor of that skyscraper and thrown into a small windowless room. Landing on his front hard with a grunt, his cheek pressed against the cold floor as he head the guards lock him in.

He really screwed up.

"...I want my hat!! Stupid Bastards! All of ya!! When I get outta here... I'm gon start kickin' all y'all asses!! Ya hear!?" Clyde would let out as he pulled the handcuffs apart , causing them to bight tightly into his wrists, making them quite red, nearly cutting them up a bit if he kept pulling on them. Either way Clyde was trapped, he could only huddle in a nearby corner and wait until morning apparently. He had his phone in his pocket and his knife in his boot. None would really help him out right now. He was stuck. He could only wait till morning to find out what they were going to do with him.

"Sorry Heather... Ain't c'mon home after all..." Mumbled Clyde before shutting his eyes and going to sleep against the corner.

The next morning, after Drake woke up and went through his morning routine, eating a light breakfast and having some coffee, he went to check his schedule for the day. Luckily for him, it was going to be a slow morning, as all the productions were self-sufficient at this point, and he did not have any important meetings with business associates. He planned on enjoying himself a little bit, drinking his coffee as he stood facing his window, looking out over western Tokyo. He planned to catch up on a few things, but before he could his secretary buzzed him a message.

"Sir, there is still the matter of yesterday's intruder?" she asked. Drake sighed, rolling his eyes. He completely forgot about that. Indeed, he couldn't quite remember why he kept that guy around. But it was no matter, he did say he wanted to see this man.

Drake put in. Call to his security manager, who was waiting outside the door as Drake came down to see Clyde. "Has our guest been keeping quiet Ms. Chernigov?" he asked the leggy blonde Russian who was his security manager. She nodded, staying quiet as she opened the door.

Drake went in, looking around fora moment to see Clyde on the floor. "Have a seat," he said, gesturing at the chairs, "Tell me, what were you doing here last night?"

Clyde had been tried and worn out for a while, overworking himself to pay off a hospital debt he owed to Chesna Matu. So he pretty much slept in for the majority of the morning, though it wasn't pleasant at all, especially with the handcuffs, a nightmare or two and a few looming worries that bothered him to no end, keeping him in and out of sleep for much of the night until he finally got some sleep around 3-4 a.m. or so.

But then he heard the door unlock and begin to open, prompting Clyde to awaken from his slumber as he lifted his head up and stared at the door with restless eyes that had heavy bags under them, further suggesting that Clyde didn't get a good sleep. In came some older guy in a suit and an a rather mature looking blonde haired woman who looked like she was part of security. But was this guy? The Manager Thomas Drake or one of his lackeys? Surely it wasn't the head boss who came down here to confront a troublesome lunatic, right?

With a frown and a stern scowl, Clyde would stand up slowly and take a seat, glaring at the man bitterly before speaking. "Tryin' to save my relationship..." He'd answer bluntly.

"I came 'round here from Kyoto... Lookin' ta' have a word with Ms. Megumi Mutoh..." Clyde would add in a still bitter manner. "Just a short, friendly, lil' chat..."

Drake frowned when he looked down at Clyde. He turned to his associate. "Uncuff him," he said, "Make him a little bit more comfortable. There's no need to breed any discontent here." Chernigov nodded, walking over and grabbing Clyde's arm, pulling him up to his feet, before reaching back and undoing his handcuffs. She forcefully led him over to the table, pushing him down into the chair.

Drake walked over to the other side of the table, sitting down as well. He took his time, not talking to Clyde, but rather fiddling with his suit for a moment, before reaching inside his jacket and pulling out a small mirror, looking at himself in it, trying to fix his hair.

"You know, the ruckus you caused last night kept me from sleeping properly," Drake said, "Now, normally when this happens, if I'm in a good mood I give you to the police and let them handle everything. If I'm in a bad mood, I throw you down the elevator shaft and let my cleanup crew deal with your mangled corpse." He paused for a moment, taking a small breath.

"What you say to me will determine what kind of mood I am in," he said, "So tell me, and no bullshit this time. Who sent you, and why were you here last night?"

Clyde's head perked up a bit once he heard Drake tell the Russian lady to remove his handcuffs, he was definitely happy to hear that and wanted those cuffs off as soon as possible, they were really biting hard into his wrist and he wanted them off.

"H-Hey! Easy lady!" Clyde would let out as Chernigov yanked him up and, undid the cuffs, and roughly led him towards the table before pushing him down into his chair, glaring at her as he rubbed his sore wrists, really wanting to make a smart ass comment, but decided it was best not to and would shift his gaze towards Drake as he did all these things just irradiated Clyde. Was he was going to say something or just keep worrying about how pretty he wanted to look? But finally the guy spoke and just complained that Clyde prevented him from sleeping properly, causing Clyde to actually chuckle a bit. He thought he had a bad sleep? Clyde was nearly about to collapse on the table.

Then this guy started talking about what happens when he's in a good mood or bad mood and basically threatened to throw him down an elevator. Clyde didn't know which was worse because having the chance to go to prison and possibly find out he was wanted for questioning back in the states if they could find the files wasn't a good idea. "Oh... Wonderful..." He spat sarcastically with false excitement, but realized he had to remain calm on this conversation for saying the wrong thing could lead to his death. He escaped death once before, he didn't want to face it again.

"I ain't even givin' no bullshit! Ain't nobody sent me, I came on my own free will to see Ms. Megumi Mutoh!" Clyde would let out, trying to reaffirm his case.

Drake's frown deepened. "Oh really?" he asked, "Then tell me this. Why are you looking for Megumi here, at that time of night? Did you really expect to find her here? Or was that just a ploy to get access to my building?" Drake's mood was visibly turning worse. He didn't like this guy, with the way he talked and that attitude. It reminded him too much of the people back in America, which aroused his suspicions. Could he be sent by his brother? Or perhaps a disgruntled low-level mob boss in the states that somehow Drake pissed off? The latter was most likely, since his brother never dealt with such incompetency. The Antonielli family rule was to never get their hands dirty, and this guy was guarenteed to get many hands dirty with the unprofessional way he acted.

"You'd better come up with a better story, or else it's a one way trip down," Drake said, "So first off tell me, what's your name? And then you can tell me what your business here is, really. And don't give me any bullshit. Ms. Chernigov over there knows quite a few things about torture, and she wouldn't mind some practice."

"Yeah. Really." Clyde would reply before he heard Drake's next couple of words, one that Clyde would just frown and raise his eyebrow at. "A ploy to get access to your buildin'? What!? The hell you smokin'!? I only came to talk with Megumi for.... For.... Personal reasons.... Personal reasons that ain't your concern, man!" Clyde would respond, honestly feeling slightly embarrassed about the full story behind his dilemma and wasn't about to share it if he could avoid it, but still, he had to give a good story or it was curtains for him.

"Clyde T. Gastin. 24/7 Champion of Tension and like I BEEN sayin' I've been wantin' to have a few words with Megumi over some... Personal stuff regarding Her and my fiancee who is also a Wrestler... And WILL YOU STOP with the dang ol' threats!? GahDamn I ain't bullshittin' I'm tellin you the whole truth! You gon' be killin' an innocent man, I'm tellin ya!" Clyde exclaimed.

"I ain't scared of YOU or Ivan Drago over here either! I been tortured inside all night!" Clyde would let out, barking at the two aggressively.

"Look man... I need to call My Family... My girl's prolly already thinkin' I got myself shot again and I need to let her know where the hell I am..." Clyde would say as he reached into his back pocket with a sudden movement to get his cellphone, not really thinking about how Ms. Chernigov or Drake would react to the stranger reaching for something so suddenly.

Clyde's attitude wasn't helping his case one bit, but when he mentioned his name Drake felt a small glimmer of recognition. Still, he had Chernigov on edge, so when he reached into his back pocket, she moved quickly, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back in one swift and painful motion while in her other hand a stiletto appeared, the tip pointed directly at Clyde's neck, his carotid artery. "Make one more move motherfucker and I will kill you," she said, in surprisingly unaccented English. Drake however raised his hand, telling her to stop.

"Wait, don't kill him," he said, "Stand down." Chernigov looked up, then released Clyde, stepping back and putting the knife away.

"You say you're from Tension?" Drake asked, "Now this is even stranger than I thought. Luckily for you, this means you're not a threat, and I don't have to kill you." He sat back in his chair. "You're asking an impossible request from me though. You want to see one of my clients, Ms. Megumi Mutoh? I can't let you do that unless I know exactly why." He waved his hand. "Seeing how violent and tempermental you are, there is no guarentee you won't try to hurt her, which goes directly against the protection contracts I signed with her. So, either you tell me why you're here, and you calm yourself, I'm afraid I'll have to send you to the police station with charges of trespassing. Oh, and don't even think about trying to weasel your way out using legal crap about what I'm doing to you right now. I'm certain every judge in this country would gladly find you in contempt of court if you so much as mention it."

Just as Clyde's fingers touched his cellphone, he suddenly felt his arm being grabbed roughly and twisted behind his back. "Agh! Wa-..." He'd gasp out in a startled manner, not knowing that his reach for the phone prompted his action from Chernigov, who now held a knife held near The Texan's throat, warning him to not to move or else he was a dead man. Clyde would comply instantly, not moving, only giving out a small gulp in reaction to this, starting to sweat a bit from how close that knife was and the thought of being killed right then and there.

Thankfully though, Drake called his Russian Attack Dog off and she released Clyde, prompting Clyde to slouch down in his chair, relived to not no longer have his life threatened. Still, Clyde still held onto most of his usual attitude, glaring up at Chernigov while rubbing his arm before adjusting his trenchcoat to further push the woman's buttons a bit. Clyde would then calmly nod to confirm to Drake that he was from Tension, but his calmer demeanor would end quickly as he heard Drake state that now that he knew who Clyde was, he wasn't going to be registered as a threat nor killed, his eye would twitch a bit with a small developing scowl over his face after hearing that, it was so hard for him not to express how pissed off he was after hearing that.

Still Clyde would listen to this man talk on and then pretty much reveal exactly who his own identity was well, prompting Clyde's eyes to widen a bit surprise, not expecting to meet The Big Boss at all like this. Clyde sure as hell didn't think man in charge was going to bother with a simple, crazed ruffian who got a little out of hand in the lobby last night, but Clyde wasn't complaining, he was a bit more interested now and a bit more pleased towards this fuck up of a choice he made coming here. Maybe the visit will be worth it after all. Clyde took in in all that Drake had to say and would just lean back in his chair and grin at Drake for a moment as he thought over everything the man said and contemplated his own response to his lengthy statement that he kept up with quite nicely.

"Alright, Mr. Big Stuff... I came here to tell your client, Ms. Megumi Mutoh to Back-Off of My Girl, Heather Sunderland! I could dang well see over the dang ol' TV durin' their match that Megumi's got a Thing for My Girl. I ain't got a problem with them being Just Friends... But if she THINKS she gon' be able to start gettin' frisky with Heather whenever she wants or even TRIES to steal her away... Then Me and Megumi... We gon' have a problem." Clyde would let out a clearly stern and frustrated manner that was fueled by fear, jealousy and a lot of paranoia.

He was jumping to conclusions rather quickly, too quickly and it was that sort thing that led him to be so apprehensive and mean to Heather, thinking that she was falling into those lusty feelings she got during the match with Megumi.

Drake frowned, looking at Clyde almost incredulously for a moment, before bursting out in laughter. "So thats what it is?" He said, shaking his head, "It's commendable I suppose, for you to be so madly in love that you're jealous of a girl! Normally guys would jump at the opportunity to have a threesom... but I guess you're the more traditional kind." He leaned back in his chair, smiling now and completely at ease. Clyde just proved he wasn't a threat, considering nobody would come up with such an incredulous story like that, and he knew it was true that Megumi had some "fun" with Heather after the match. He knew nothing came of it though, as Megumi and Heather were merely friends.

"You want to ask her to back off?" Drake said, "Well, I suppose you want to tell her yourself. She will not take it well at all though, I can tell you that." Drake pulled out a cell phone, standing up from the table, then walking out the door. He flipped open the phone, dialling a number. "Hi, Megumi? Can you come down for a moment? Twenty-fourth floor. There's someone here who wants to tell you something."

Soon enough Megumi arrived. She walked down the hallway quickly, heading over the Drake. It sounded rather urgent to her, so she got here as fast as she could. "Who is it?" Megumi asked. Drake smiled and shook his head, pointing her inside the room. Megumi looked inside then stepped in. She didn't know this man, or why he would want to see her.

"Hi there," Megumi said, "I'm Megumi Mutoh. You wanted to see me?"