It’s several months ago. NOLA.

The morning sun is just now creeping through the windows of the beautiful reclaimed red brick temple to all things professional wrestling referred to by most as simply the DEFplex. Up on the top floor in the “executive suites” where all the daily monotony of running a facility like this takes place amongst the already hectic doings of an active entertainment franchise like DEFIANCE Wrestling. Jane Katze knows all too well the headaches that particular mix can create. Balancing her still quite burgeoning talent representation firm with her numerous duties as both the facilities manager of the DEFplex and one of DEFIANCE’s lead accountants… it all causes, more often than not, her plate to be rather full day to day.

This morning is no different.

Perched at her desk with the icy confidence of a successful hedge fund manager, business mini-skirt and a white blouse, red lips and heels… she’s nothing if not consistent. Katze is engrossed with pages of numbers and figures and projections that at first glance look like complete gibberish… but that’s why the smarmy young former girl-friday to DEF’s ex-despot Edward White still has the job she does.

She’s very very good at it.

*bzzzzt* “Ms. Katze, there’s a Mr. Sigurd Magnusson here to see you?”

Jane looks at her intercom quizzically.

Jane Katze:
Concerning?

*bzzzzt* ”He says it’s concerning an individual working in BRAZEN, ma’am. He says it would behoove you to give him a minute of your time.”

She looks down at the pile of paperwork atop her glass desktop with a sigh.

Jane Katze:
Send him in.

Jane straightens some of the piles of paperwork, closes the fronts of several folders containing DEFIANCE’s financial data for the last year or so and stands as soon as the affable looking little old Scandinavian man shuffles through her office door. A simple but finely tailored dark suit and several impressive pieces of jewelry tell Katze what sort of money she’s about to interact with right away… she’s always been good with that sort of thing. Reading a room, a situation, a person and being able to piece together a rough draft of who or what she’s dealing with. It wasn’t just her flawless legs that kept her a part of Edward White’s entourage for so many years, believe that.

She extends a hand with her best “who are you and what do you want” smile.

Jane Katze:
Mr. Magnusson, was it?

The two shake hands and take their respective seats across from one another.

Sigurd Magnusson:
Ms. Katze, thank you so much for seeing me. I met with a… erm… a mister Angus Skaaland? I left that meeting feeling a bit uneasy, that my request would go unheeded. So after some inquiry I was told you were just the kind of professional individual I was looking for.

Jane Katze:
I hate to disappoint you, but I have next to nothing to do with BRAZEN or its talen…

Magnusson raises his hand with a chuckle and starts stroking his neatly trimmed beard.

Sigurd Magnusson:
If you’ll hear me out, please. I’ve been told you have a knack for working with unorthodox individuals.

Katze smiles.

Jane Katze:
Individual, singular, but do go on.

Sigurd Magnusson:
Yes, quite right. I have a grandson, you see. Parents both died before he ever had a chance to know them. My dear daughter married a… well, that part’s not important. The boy came to live with me. My business dealings taking me out of country quite often, the boy grew up quite angry. Obsessed with our cultures, shall I say bloody history. He even adopted a new name, a new persona...

Katze puts the pieces together.

Jane Katze:
Cul. I’ve heard Angus talk about him and his friends.

The mention of the three other individuals makes Magnusson’s face grow a little less affable.

Sigurd Magnusson:
Indeed. Yes, that all started when he reached adulthood. He took a liking to a large nature preserve our family maintains in the north. A huge tract of land miles across. He’s built cabins and longhouses and god knows what else out there.

It’s immediately obvious the entire situation is emotionally draining on the little man.

Sigurd Magnusson:
And the wrestling… the wrestling is an improvement, at least it’s an actual career... the boy was involved in street fights, back alley fights, underground betting. Awful barbaric nonsense. There was several years I was convinced he’d come back to me in a box. One day he came back with those vile Holmström brothers and professional wrestling became his life. That… beast came later. Some local boy, a freak my grandson and his new friends decided they needed under their sway.

Jane listens attentively to every word.

Jane Katze:
So you want me to, what… manage them?

Mr. Magnusson chuckles weakly.

Sigurd Magnusson:
In a way I suppose? My grandson has a deep distrust of people who wear suits and sit in offices like this one for a living, I’m living proof of that… what I need, Ms. Katze, is someone here with his best interests in mind. I’ve given up on the idea of him someday taking a place in the family business. That ship has definitely sailed I’m afraid. If this is the life he chooses, I want him to find great success at it. He’s the type that would cut off his nose to spite his face, you see…

Jane Katze: [muttering to herself]
I know the type.

Sigurd Magnusson:
He needs guidance, Ms. Katze… even if only from a distance. Mr. Skaaland didn’t seem the type. But you…

It’s Jane’s turn to hold up a hand with a smile. Truth be told, this Cul and his strange band of “vikings” were already on Jane’s radar. This visit from Cul’s obviously quite loaded kin was simply gilding the lily.  

Jane Katze:
I’ll tell you what. Give me some time to scout he and his friends out a little bit. God help me, I’ll go talk to Angus myself and see if there’s any opportunities on the horizon that might benefit your grandsons career that might have slipped his drug addled mind when you and he talked. How does that sound? Maybe we can find something perfect, something that’ll benefit everyone involved.

The little man gets to his feet with an aged grunt, once again extending a hand across the desk to the gorgeous brunette business manager.

Sigurd Magnusson:
I’ll leave you to your business then.

Jane stands and walks around her desk, ushering the little old man to the door.

Sigurd Magnusson:
I leave here with my confidence bolstered Ms. Katze. That Skaaland fellow, is he…

Jane Katze:
He’s an uncouth idiot, but he’s quite good at his many wrestling-related tasks, I assure you. Sort of an idiot savant, with the emphasis annoyingly on the idiot part of that idiom.

... We’ll be in touch, Mr. Magnusson.

Fade.

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