Showing posts with label wrestler. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wrestler. Show all posts

Monday, March 31, 2025

War on Dad Blog: Tweaked for Preference

Just because I haven't logged it for a few days, here's a very exciting redux of my last 3 workouts and some reasoning behind the tweaks I've made to the "program" I posted about 2 weeks ago.

Don't get me wrong, SuperSets are fun and challenging. But the way I had my program listed previous I found wasn't letting me hit everything as consistently or as effectively as I'd like. And while the old fashion Chest / Back Day idea that Schwarzenegger made famous is challenging as hell, I was finding that all I was really doing was wearing myself down and getting a barely half assed pump on all fronts. Plus, my Delts have been feeling neglected.


And yes, that reads back and sounds silly. But the fact is, how I'm Feeling about my workouts is important. If I don't feel like they're working for me, then I don't wanna do 'em. We as people have more than enough things that we do in life that we gotta do whether we want to or not. The Gym HAS to be something I wanna do, otherwise it just becomes one more chore in my day.

I got enough chores. Working on bettering myself mentally and physically is not allowed to be one of them. Not anymore.

As such, I've switched Back and Biceps, re-pairing them together on one day. I will switch which muscle group takes the priority when I get to this day, but that's fine. These groups pair together much more naturally, working in tandem. That let me put Shoulders and Chest together again, but this time with a real focus on the Delts.  My shoulders have always been lagging for my liking and I want to bring them up. Plus I no longer have any interest in getting back in the "315lb Club" on the bench, so focusing on more moderate weights and complementing the shoulders is how it's gonna be for a time.

While it's too early to tell if this is better/worse for me progress wise, there's no doubt that I've enjoyed them much more than the previous lifts. Which means I'll keep putting in the work.

March 28, 2025
Back w/Biceps

Hammer Grip Pulldowns - 160 x 8, 180 x 8, 200 x 8, 220 x 8, 240 x7, 260 x 4, 3 (was feeling good, wanted to Learn My Limit)
Close Grip Pulldown - 160 x 10, 180 x 10, 10, 10 (last reps of 3rd set were brutal hard)
Bentover Row - 225lb x 8, 285lb x 6, 305lb x 3x 225lb x 10, 10
Meadows Row - 90lb x 8, 8, 8
SuperSets:
Lat Press Down -
50 x 10, 10, 10, 20, 20 (I was being a wuss and pushed final 2 sets)
DB Curls - 25x 10, 35 x 10, 45 x 10, 50 x 6, 6, 6, 40 x 13
Cardio - Shoveled out 2 Households from late MB winter fun - took about an hour or so all told, and a 45 minute dog walk


March 30, 2025
Shoulders w/Chest

SuperSet 1:  
Cable FacePull - 50 x15, 60 x 15, 70 x 15, 80 x 15, 90 x 13, 11
Cable Peck Fly - 50 x 15, 15, 15, 15, 15, 15

SuperSet 2 :
Incline Smith Press
- 205 x 10, 10, 10, 10
Upright Row - 40lb x 10, 45lb x 10, 50lb x 9, 40lb x13

SuperSet 3:
Smith Shrugs
- 205 x 12, 12, 12, 12
DB Side Lat Raise - 30lb x 15, 15, 12, 12

Cable Side Lat raise - 20 x 10, 10, 10
Tricep Rope Extension - 50 x 15, 15, 15, 15, 15

No cardio specific today save for hauling parts around at work both by hand and otherwise. After I wake up I'm planning on either ring training or  specific gym session. We'll see how things play out tonight.

But yeah. That's my exciting last few days. Good ones to be sure. More actual thoughts and updates and more coming soon. Ish.

AK

BOOKS
SHIRTS
EVENTS








Monday, March 10, 2025

Why Do We Tell Stories?


The most cynical of us these days say "All the good stories have been told!" or "Nothing original is being made anymore!" Or my favorite, "Why are they retelling the same stories but just changing the gender / sexuality / race of these characters?"

Do a quick search on YouTube and you'll find a handful of smart looking people giving Ted Talks and Video Essays about this very topic. Some of them are cogent, others maybe a bit heady for the casual viewer.

But it is an important question.

In truth, I think the better question is "Why are we drawn to stories?"

And in my opinion, the answer is simple: We want to see people we can connect with struggle with adversity and over coming their obstacles. Because it shows US that WE can do it too.


Stories are about connection. About conflict. About the power of love. The sting of betrayal. The rise of power at the expense of the weak. 

Stories are told in all kind of mediums. The best of them connect to us in ways where we feel the most seen as people. All kinds of people. This alone is WHY it's so important for stories to be re-told, re-imagined and Re-interpreted for new generations as the world changes and evolves. The type of movies and shows we watched in the 1980s were formative for us in those days but don't connect as well to current generations. Doesn't necessarily make them bad stories or "Inappropriate in theme." It just means that at their core it's fine to find the thesis point, the nugget of truth in that story and re-create it for the generations today and forward.

Now it's important to remember that some stories aren't for everyone.

And that's okay.

We're allowed to like / not like whatever speaks to us the most. For example, I absolutely, unequivocally cannot get into any version of Game of Thrones. Neither the show nor the novels.  This is a genre that is right up my alley. I love swords and horses fantasy. I love high adventure. I love in depth writing. And yet, the GOT original novel is one of the few that I've ever stopped reading voluntarily and put aside. I watched the pilot episode, acknowledged that it was very well made, performed and produced... and never checked into the next episode.

I don't know. Just never worked for me.  

What's not okay - and here's where I prepare for vitriol and hateful messages - is prejudging a program / novel / show before you even get the chance to consume it.

I want to declare up front and with full admission - I have been, continue to be and will again be SO GUILTY OF DOING THIS.

This type of attitude and behavior does not only the story in question, but yourself a disservice. Who knows how many shows or books I've dismissed out of hand before even giving it a fair shot.

We all know the worst types of these people too. Again, YouTube - there's a whole cottage industry of assholes whose whole purpose is to nitpick, shit on, or rage bait their way to popularity by tearing down popular pieces of film / television and feeding into the baser instincts of a small minded audience who only wants the type of story that appeals to their narrow viewpoint. Which is typically male. Usually white. And certainly straight as a board. 

Now I'm not gonna put any of these people or channels on blast. Frankly they don't need me driving any more eyeballs to their work. Moreover, if you've read this far and are still interested - odds are you already have an idea of the kind of groups I'm talking about and aren't someone whom I'm trying to connect with here.

The important thing is to understand that just because a story may not speak directly to you, that YOU might not be able to connect to it - doesn't mean that someone else isn't finding joy, hope or purpose from the character's journey.


What's that? You think Rey is a Mary Sue that's only in Star Wars because of agendas and woke-culture? Well, to so many people (many of them young girls) Rey is a symbol or hope, of self-empowerment who literally raised herself from nothing to find her place in the world. That's powerful.


What's that? You think that Sam Wilson becoming Captain America is dumb because he doesn't even have the Super Soldier Serum and not in any way because he happens to be a black man?  Well in a conflicted and frankly overmilitarized country like the United States of America where old racist feelings are swelling to the surface in the most disgusting and base manners, the character of Sam Wilson choosing to accept the shield in the hopes of being a healer, someone who bridges the gap between the fractured parts of that country is a powerful message. Especially choosing to do it without being the strongest or fastest person, choosing to be a symbol for everyone. 


And don't me started about the ongoing power of professional wrestling and the never ending morality play that takes place between those ropes for millions of people around the world. Showing good people making bad choices. Bad people wanting to better themselves. The selfish learning humility. The best of us making the choice to abandon their principles when they seem to have run out of options.

We connect to characters who show us something about ourselves. We want those characters to achieve their goals and find peace or prosperity or love or connection. 

We need these characters to succeed in some way, so they can show us the way when we need it most.

That's why we tell stories.

Speaking of stories, I got BOOKS. And I'd appreciate it if you gave them a read. 

AK

SHIRTS






Sunday, March 9, 2025

War on Dad Blog and Other Minor Updates

A lack of writing this week is not an indication of a lack of activity. Quite the opposite in fact. While the majority of it isn't noteworthy particularly interesting to share (ie: family, work related stuff) I will say that it's been a good time with the @BlazeProWrestling trainees, especially the ones post in ring debut. Now that they've been in front of a crowd, the real work begins, honing and prepping them for more advanced activity.

Specifically running longer style "blow up drills" like the kind that Johnny Devine initially showed me back in 2005. Man... I thought those were tough when I was 28. At 48?

At least I'm still able to stay a step ahead of most of the "kids" 

Since some people have been asking (hi, Ken - yes I'm talking about you) I haven't forgotten my plan to launch a podcast by the end of March. The goal this week is to record both an "Episode Zero" and a first full episode by myself. Something to just fully introduce the idea, work out some technical kinks and  - frankly - make sure I know what I'm doing and am able to produce episodes on a consistent basis by myself. What can I say? As an Indie Wrestler and Author... I'm kinda used to doing things by myself ... erhm .... no jokes please.

With that said I do have a list of people I plan to speak with and "interview" I suppose to get the episodes starting. While the show is called "Ringside Rambling" don't be surprised if I don't focus exclusively on wrestling. I have a variety of interests and plan to explore them all going forward. I just hope you'll find them interesting enough to listen along with. And share. And likely clip out to make me look bad. Or good? Maybe?

Fingers crossed.

Anyways, that's how my last few days have looked. Now for the few of you who care, here's my War on Dad Blog Update for the past few sessions:

March 4
Biceps w/Back

Close Grip Pulldown - 180 x 12, 12, 10, 9 (short rest, no improvement from previous sesh)
EZ Curl Bar - 80lb x 12, 12, 12, 12+3+3 (felt good so did myo-reps to finish)
DB Curl - 30lb x 15, 15, 15, 15 (wide curl, no twisting, focus on outer bicep, crazy burn)
Press down / Face Pull Combo - 50 x 15, 15, 15 (always good pump)
Preacher Curl - 80lb x 8, 8 (free weight, too much pressure on elbows)
Hammer Curl - 35lb x 15, 15 (better finish)
Mach Crunches - stack x 15, 15
Treadmill 2.7mph 4% 30 Minutes

March 5
Triceps w/Chest and Shoulders

Close Grip Bench - 135 x 12, 12, 12, 12, 15 (elbows/Shoulders better, added set, next time add weight)
Peck Deck - 175 x 15, 15, 15, 12 (big stretch, 4th set was a failure)
DB Side Lat Raise - 30lb x 12, 12, 12, 12 (Probably too easy, but good for an auxiliary day)
OH Cable Triceps - 50 x 15 (warm up), 65 x 13, 13, 12 (elbows in closer, much harder)
Rev Grip Tricep Cable Ext - 65 x 15, 15, 15 (just to burnout)
Cardio - wrestling training, Blow-up drills and scrimmage for 90 minutes

March 7
Back w/Biceps
(Knee was aching, saved legs)
Pulldown - 200 x 8, 220 x 8, 240 x5, 5 (felt like going heavy today, a nice change)
Bentover Smith Row - 205 x 12, 12, 12, 12 (big stretch after each rep, really wore me out)
Mach Row - 190 x 10, 10, 10 (switched grips, felt better, focus on negative)
EZ Bar Curl - 90lb x 12, 12, 12, 12 (glad I went up, 4th set was tough)
DB Wide Curl - 30lb 15, 15, 15, 15 (Not as much burn this time, but pre exhausted well)
Back Hyperextension - 15, 15
Again, knee was aching so cardio was long dog walks - something around 16K steps

March 8
Legs (Different gym, all numbers/ machines a bit different)
Adductors - 160 x 20, 20, 20 (short rest for all sets)
Abductors - 200 x 20, 20, 20 (So glad I started doing these 2 exercises)
Seated Ham Curl - 130 x 12, 12, 12 (didn't fit mach well, still decent squeeze)
Seated Quad Ext - 80 x 10, 10, 10 (felt WAY heavy today, but knees were strong)
Leg Press - 3plt/side x 15, 15, 15 (just focused on depth and stretch here, prefer the regular machines now)
Xtrainer 30 mins, medium resistance, hill program, good sweat

So yeah. Some good workouts. Sleep and recovery have been the ongoing fuck you to me lately. So, I'm doing my best. Try to eat cleanly on an 80/20 rule and maintain a decent calorie deficit. In some ways I see improvements, in other ways I feel sadly embarrassed to take my daughter to the swimming pool - not that anyone cares or thinks its a competition, but well .... vanity and old shame are tough monkeys to shake off from ones back.

Regardless, lets do some plugs and end this blog:




PRO WRESTLING TEES
is having their MERCH MADNESS SALE on all this week. So, if you're dying to support your favorite pro wrestlers, please do so - just kindly skim over my products first and see if there's anything you'd like.

BOOKS - so many Books. paperback copies moved well last week in person, hoping to get more digital copies moving as well. Please visit the link here (though given the climate these days, I'll understand if you don't - I need a Canadian publishing house to work with dang-it.)




That's it that's all for today. I need to get some sleep.

AK

Sunday, March 2, 2025

Big Wrestling Weekend

Turns out to have been / is continuing to be a pretty impressive weekend of wrestling. Here locally in Winnipeg, off over in Toronto where the WWE has been selling out the Rogers Centre for a Huge Event and all over.

... Finally ...
Always nice to see and hear reports of independent shows across the world benefitting from the success of the Wrestling Industry. Groups around the Big Smoke capitalizing on the presence of the WWE drawing big houses. Groups in Saskatchewan and Alberta doing the same. Reports from the PNW tell the story with DEFY and BOOM Pro just crushing it right now. Wrestling is worldwide and fun for the general population again - and it's awesome to watch the excitement.

I was honored enough to participate in a bit of excitement locally the other night. And I'll recap it in just a moment. First things first, I have to log my War on Dad Blog report:

Feb 28th
Back and Biceps

Hammer Grip PullDown - 200 x 10, 10, 10, 8
Smith Mach Bentover Row - 205 x 12, 12, 9, 8 (really focused on bottom stretch)
Seated Mach Row - 190 x 12, 12, 12 (energy was starting to dip here)
EZ Bar Curl - 80lb x 15, 15, 13 (again, low energy)
DB Curl - 30lb x 15, 15, 17 (good finish at least)
No cardio today, was already feeling lightheaded and I had to wrestle that night. Time to refuel and rest

Goodlife Garden City

March 1st
Chest and Shoulders w/Triceps
OHP Mach -
80 x 12, 12, 12 (switched up order due to availability, stayed here, left shoulder cranky)
Peck Deck - 175 x 12, 12, 12, 12 + 2 partials (great pump)
Smith Incline Press - 205 x 10, 10, 8, 7, 7 (felt stronger today so added a 5th set and cheesed out on it - dumb)
DB Side Lat raise - 30lb x 15, 15, 15, 15 (must go up to 35lb)
Cable Side Lat - 15 x 9, 9, 9 (these didnt feel as good today, weird)
Rev Grip Tricep Extension - 50 x 15, 15, 15, 15 (just a burnout)
Treadmill 30 mins 4% 2.7mph - slowly starting to increase incline starting next workout
doing this one in a funky order was interesting. Not sure I'd do it that way every time, but it was effective. Energy was tanking bad by the end of my treadmill time but that's okay.

Okay. Back to wrestling talk.

Last Friday Blaze Pro Wrestling packed the St Louis Centre to the rafters. We were literally finding chairs from the basement of the facility to get seating for everyone, and we failed. People were standing in the back and - thankfully - having a great time. Parents and their kids came in swaths, regular fans and new ones were made that night. Every match from top to bottom provided something different for the crowd in attendance. It was truly a special night and one that I was thrilled to be a part of.

I mean, I wasn't thrilled with the outcome of my match naturally. After months of trying to put BIG CLIFF in the rearview I'd hope to finally have done so with BILLY BLAZE's help. Unfortunately I let my emotions get the better of me and well ... Yeah. Disqualifications happen. So. One Final Time - BLAZE and KNIGHT vs BIG CLIFF and the MASKED MENACE April 25th in Winnipeg. The winner advances to the Inaugural Blaze Pro Tag Team Title Match in the Main Event!

Limited Editions
Had the pleasure to catch up with some old friends in the locker room as well. JOHNNY MALIBU seems to be taking liberties with his "Limited edition" moniker as he continues his comeback run and engaging in a very fun 3 Way Match on the card. My blood and iron brother DARREN DALTON was having a blast assisting with the crew and events in his usual boisterous way. I was thrilled to see my old riding buddy and regular mismatched opponent "THE BIG O" Owen Johnson make a return to action - but in a referee's capacity. 

Had a blast watching 2 of our trainees making debuts at the event as well. The "STEEL STUDD" put on a great effort in front of friends and family, showing grit, determination and finally earning a victory in his first ever match over the always creepy ZAMIL. 

Apparently a glutton for punishment, ZAMIL tried to interrupt the debuting CANDY CHAOS as she was introducing herself to the crowd. However, the Blaze pro trainee showed the people in attendance that she knows how to bring the hurt as well as the sweet treats.

Also, props to the Main event. MENTALLO defeated a very game "TANGO" TYLER ROSE who frankly put on the best showing of his career (from what I've seen.) A very competitive back and forth bout that went the way of the campion, but it was a true test of mettle. One that the crowd was very receptive and appreciative of.

Truly, the Blaze Pro Locker Room has a great vibe and is special. I mean that. Hold onto this feeling people and carry it with you.

Okay, its 430am and I need coffee.

Oh, and thank you to everyone who picked up a copy of my Book and purchased some Shirts. That means a lot. Get Yours Via my LINKTREE .

Later

AK




Wednesday, February 12, 2025

Passing Things on to the Next Generation, Intentionally or Not

Yeah, Yeah. It's been awhile. Whatever.

Moving on.

For the entirety of my daughters still very young life, I have said the same hope for her when it comes to my life in Pro Wrestling. 

"Ugh, yeah. My Dad used to do that stuff. It's so weird."

This is what I'd hoped that she would say.

Fervently hoped.

Still hope.

Yet here we are now watching WWE RAW on Netflix together. She has a zillion questions about how things work. Who the stars are? Who makes the costumes? Is it fun to ring announce? 

To my gratitude, at present the one question I am dreading has yet to be asked.

"Papa, could I be a wrestler?"

Just writing that makes my heart skip a beat.

Because, I am conflicted. So conflicted.

Yes, in 2025 the wrestling landscape has changed. While obviously there are still so many carny, scuzz-ball types that will try to take advantage of anyone and everybody (especially young girls just trying to break into the industry - not naming any names here, you know who you are) I would be a complete liar to suggest that things aren't significantly better for women in the wrestling business today.

On RAW alone I'm watching back to back segments where the ladies are front and centre having competitive battles for their own needs - and not just as Bechtel Test failures. Toni Storm and the ladies on AEW are killing it creatively and athletically. TNA has been pioneering with their ladies division for years and producing top notch stars. STARDOM in Japan remains a haven for the ladies. SHIMMER in the states, CMLL in Mexico, Premier British Wrestling in the UK … its truly a viable option.

And yet... I remember what it was like. I remember seeing (and being too cowardly to stop) ladies being taken advantage of by small minded assholes in perceived positions of power. I've spoken to ladies from the generations before me and heard their tales of woe and despair.

So yes. I am conflicted.

At some point, my little angel may (or please Lord, please) may not ask the question about getting more involved. As of now, just occasionally coming to family-friendly shows that her Papa is on, acting like a clown and trying to put smiles on faces is enough for her.

But I see the spark in her eyes. I see the interest.

She is a performer. She loves to be athletic.

Heaven help me, she could do it if she wanted to.

And she'd learn to be good at it.

I never wanted this for her. In fact I tried to keep it from her. When she was younger I never watched wrestling in the house. I loved that she was into what she liked and tried to encourage her own interests, without input from this big dork. I still do that. Listen to her music. Watch her shows with her. Volunteer at her dance recitals. All of it.

In truth when she was born I honestly believed that I'd be done wrestling by now. Figured it would never come up because all my stuff would be buried in the back of my closet never to be brought out again.

Yet here I am, celebrating 30 years of in ring activity, having more fun doing the job than I have in many years.

Which is probably why my daughter is so curious about it now.

This is the 3rd pro wrestling boom I have been a part of. Everything goes in waves as the industry ebbs and flows. Right now indy shows all over the world are thriving in tune with what the larger companies are fueling. As such, there's a lot of mainstream interest.

Eventually that will slow, and when it does, general interest will fade.

Maybe my daughter's interest will fade as well. Maybe it won't.

All I can do is protect her the best I know how and encourage her to make the best decisions she can for herself and her future.

Whatever that may be.

I love my little girl. I will protect and support her no matter what.

But I do not need or want her following in my footsteps. This has been my journey, warts and all - and I've had / am having a good time with it. 

Her Journey is Hers Alone.

I just hope she's smarter than her Papa, is all.

AK

BOOKS 
SHIRTS
IG
BLUESKY

Available on Amazon

ProWrestlingTees.com






Thursday, September 28, 2023

Top 3 Book Recommendations for September 2023

As I slog through my life and begin to get back to work on my own creative endeavors it seems fitting to take time to plug and give thanks to some of the other authors and creators who've helped to inspire and entertain me during this phase.

#1 Don Winslow's "The FORCE" is a harrowing tale of corruption, violence and intrigue within the politics and police of New York City. Unlike anything I'd ever read before and I absolutely could not put it down. Hit the link and Order your copy Today!









#2 "Why We Love Star Wars" by Ken Napzok. An absolute must for anyone who grew up on any version of the stories told in that Galaxy Far, Far Away. A series of essays and ideas inspired by all things Star Wars, an emotional deep dive on themes and scenes that stick out for us all, and an excellent insight into the mind of someone who found resonance in these iconic tales.










#3 "Everything Fat Loss: The Definitive No Bullsh*t Guide" By Ben Carpenter


Those who are into fitness and weight loss know full well just what a minefield the social media influencer landscape can be for all kinds of topics. Ben Carpenter is a no nonsense voice of reason within that space and has made it his mission to debunk the bullshit and give only the straight goods. This book is backed by hundreds of studies (that you can actually find links to and read for yourself) making it for my money the best and most complete book ever written on this topic. Please order yourself a copy today!









That's all for today. See you again in October for more recommendations. 

AK


Thursday, May 12, 2022

Okay, so... It's been Awhile

Life is funny in the sense that I'm constantly trying to think of new things to work on and manage that somewhere along the way I forget that I've already started things that I need to get back to. This blog being one of them.

Since last I posted anything I've been working with a group of Indie Authors putting together an compilation of Fantasy / Sci-Fi short stories - of which Joe's Shanghai adventure "International Incident" will be a part of (in 2 parts since well, it's a bit longer than most of the other tales.) This compilation will be FREE to download on Amazon Kindle on May 23, 2022. I'll get the links attached when it's ready.

Book 4 of Overdrive is going - slowly as is my usual stop/start bullshit process. I've got a good chunk of the beginning going and I quite like my outline. I'm considering adapting my process a bit and doing things in more of a start a chapter, write what's in my head, then make notes for what else needs to happen in this section - then immediately move onto the next chapter and do the same thing. I've heard of this "hatchet process" working well for other writers but it makes me nervous. I've always tried to write in a linear fashion whereas this kinda feels like an extended Layout. Though, in my head it's probably more like a literary story board.

Whatever. The point remains - people are asking for the next book and I'm just dicking around with it instead of actually putting in the work. I'll get there.

Finally I am considering hiring a proofreader / editor for the first 3 books of Joe's adventures to fine toothed comb them. The most common criticism I get with my books is that - well - they've all been written and edited by me. So it's easier for me to miss things than an objective eye (or my readers) would. If / when I go this route I am also considering finding a new cover artist and repackaging my books for a 2nd edition Re-Release. Not that I'm unhappy at ALL with the work that Dar Dixon has done for me. Just that if I'm going to relaunch the titles, perhaps I should start'em again from scratch in a way. Time it for a release with Book 4 when she's ready to go.

I'll keep you (in theory) up to date. Provided I don't fall down a 1000 Star Wars rabbit holes what with Kenobi about to come out on D+.

AK

Wednesday, November 17, 2021

International Incident: A Queen's Guard Story


This story takes place about 6 months after the events of "Prairie Fire" Book 3 of Overdrive, so first time readers might be a bit lost.

If this is the first taste you're having of my creative writing, welcome! Links to my books are on the right hand side of the blog. Please consider giving them a look, ordering them in Paperback / eBook or trying them on Kindle Unlimited if you're an Amazon PRIME member. 

Thank you all for taking the time to read my words. Please comment below with any ideas or questions you might have, I promise to respond to them all while I get to work on the next chapter in Joe's ongoing adventures in Book 4: "Power Play."



*****

International Incident

A Story of the Queen’s Guard

By Adam Knight

Light pierced my eyes, forcing me to cry out in spite of the long-forgotten promise to give these monsters no such satisfaction. I was too dehydrated to weep but would’ve welcomed the tears just to soothe the pain and dryness.

Rough hands grabbed at my arms and I was too weak to fight them. Endless days without proper food or water had taken their toll. In fact after so long alone I almost welcomed the harsh fingers as they hauled me upright and marched me out of my cell.

Details. The quiet yet unbeaten portion of my journalist’s brain that analyzed everything for future work took them in even as I did my best just to stay on my wobbling feet.

I was surrounded by dark haired men and women dressed in identical black suits as we marched down a narrow hallway that smelled of filth and grime, though that might’ve just been me. No identifying logos or marks on my guards, just Asian-standard black business suits. The kind I’ve worn for a variety of meetings and interviews over the years.

The hallway ended and even more light burned my eyes as a door to the outside world opened. A quick shuffling ensued during my temporary blindness. My hands were roughly bound together before I was shoved off-balance. Metal bashed into my legs and I cried out again, falling forward onto a cold metal surface.

My eyes adjusted after the doors shut revealing the back of a midsized cargo van.

We drove. One black suited man sat in the back with me listening to someone on his Bluetooth earpiece. A pistol was visible beneath his blazer, not that I believed any of my captors would be unarmed.

Images skimmed by through the van’s tinted windows showing glimpses of the outside world. Sounds and smells more than the bits of skyscrapers and other buildings told me where we were. Horns honked at pedestrians. Smog was in the air. We paused briefly by a street food vendor and the scent of spicy pork made my empty stomach start growling

The streets of Shanghai were not easy to traverse at any time of day, between all the turns and traffic stops. To say nothing of the thousands of pedestrians that routinely flooding the pathways.

But I was in no rush. This outing was a vast improvement over my previous one. No one was trying to break my ribs. 

Yet.

Eventually the light went away as the van pulled into an underground parking facility. The man riding with me snatched my arm as the doors open and we spilled out into the parkade.

Even without the signage I would’ve known immediately where I was, going by how spotless the garage pavement and support beams were. Absolutely fanatically clean. You’d never believe in the Western world that an underground location designed to park cars could be so fastidious.

A second van was parked across from us. The doors were open and more guards in identical suits crowded in front of the opening, obscuring my view. There was some muted discussion in the local dialect which I wasn’t as familiar with, but enough got through to translate in my head. Especially when one of the guards activated her Bluetooth earpiece asking for instructions.

In moments she received an answer, forwarding it to her fellow guards.

“Leave the body. Bring this one.”

My heart lurched at the words and I got a glimpse of my dead cameraman’s feet before the van doors closed and I was dragged away.

The gleaming silver doors to the elevator slid open and I was forced in, surrounded by the guards. The upwards pressure forced my insides to my feet, adding to the discomfort from the overhead halogens as the car rocketed with no stops all the way to the penthouse.

At the top floor the guards dog-marched my trembling and exhausted body through expansive yet sparsely decorated hallways before settling on one immaculate, glass walled boardroom. I was forced to sit near the head of a long, gleaming black table in an uncomfortable wooden chair. My wrists were unbound briefly only to re-secure them firmly to the legs of the chair behind my back. Experience reminded me that my chest, neck and head were completely unprotected from whatever came next. 

Minutes that felt like an eternity passed in that boardroom. Time that seemed endless where all that I could do was take note of what I could see and hear.

Massive flat screen monitors decorated the walls, none of them powered up. The black suited guards remained but had increased in number to six, which was giving their prisoner far too much respect considering my condition. LED lights overhead remained bright but less aggressive to my repressed eyes. 

But most important was the view out the window as the sun began setting over the Shanghai skyline.

Which seemed both poetic and tragic given my plight.

A section of the wall that had looked identical to all the rest made a hissing sound before sliding aside like something out of Star Trek, revealing a striking middle-aged woman flanked by yet more black suited guards. Dressed in the finest white silk business attire she strode into the boardroom with the authority you would expect from the bitch who owned the whole damned place.

Xioatang Lu was the heir and acting CEO to the Gunglei Media Empire and one of the few females of any telecommunications company in the entire world. As such her severe demeanor went beyond what one would call “understandable given the circumstances” all the way to “absolutely ruthless.”

Of which I had first hand experience.

“So.” Xiaotang Lu declared in Cantonese. “The day has come at last.”

Even if I’d had the energy to speak I doubt anything useful would’ve escaped my lips.

With barely a fraction of a nod, Xiaotang Lu motioned to her guard and the giant flat screen monitor to my left flickered to life showing an international newscast from outside of China. The kind of signal that was easier to get when you owned the satellites in the airspace over your country and wanted to see more than just what your restrictive totalitarian government believed was in your best interests to observe.

The Canadian Prime Minister was on the screen answering questions to the international press. No sound came from the monitor but the chyron readout scrolling across the lower third made things abundantly clear. 

PM: NEGOTIATIONS BREAK DOWN

Canadian Reporters Remain Captive in China.

No Time Table for Their Release. 

Opposition Accuses PM of Leaving Reporters to Die.

Apparently I had some tears left in me as one escaped from my swollen eyes before disappearing into my unshaven and filthy beard. 

Ms. Lu stepped towards me, gesturing negligently towards the screen with a neutral expression.

“You see? Your country cares not for your safety.”

A hoarse bark of laughter broke from behind my cracked and parched lips.

Her eyebrow arched with disdain.

“What can they do?” I continued hoarsely, summoning whatever defiance I had left to glare back at her. “The Gunglei Corporation owns controlling stock in too many media groups here in China, Canada and around the world. Negotiating with Ambassadors and the Chinese President is impossible given how much influence you wield over them.”

Ms. Lu’s expression never changed but her words were cold, her tone precise. “This is why you should not have been asking questions.”

When you have nothing left to lose your courage will surprise you.

“Your company is responsible for the negligent death of dozens of people outside of Vancouver and countless more around the world. Many of those deaths were more than negligence. My cousin was one of them. Robert Liu. He knew the lengths you would go to maintain power in the world. He was killed shortly after questioning his supervisors in the Gunglei distribution center.”

“And yet, in spite of your questioning of me and others you have nothing to show for your impudence. No evidence.”

“There is plenty of evidence!”

“Yet not enough for your precious Prime Minister to do anything to save you.”

Words failed me. The news on the screen seemed to say as much.

Xiaotang Lu leaned down to stare me directly in the eye, her gaze cold and merciless.

“Your country does not care for you. They are weak and easily manipulated for fear of what it will cost their people in future business opportunities.” Her eyes glittered with malice. “You should not have asked questions.”

Xioatang Lu motioned sharply to her guards as she stood up and turned away, retreating towards the gap in the wall she had arrived from. “Take him away. No one must know he and the other were here. Leave their bodies somewhere to be found. A statement must be made that cannot be traced back to this company.”

Rough hands grabbed at my arms again even before Ms. Lu disappeared flanked by her guards.

I began to thrash in my seat but to almost no effect. It took little effort for my captors to muscle me back up to my feet and start dragging me through the same glass walled hallway as before towards the service elevators.

Which led to a moment of confusion when they had to wait for the private elevator car to return. Someone had called it back to the garage. Which was odd, though not a high priority in my mind at the moment.

It was however a higher priority for the lead security guard who spoke harshly into his wrist mic. “Where is the car, Shotei?  You were instructed to leave the car in place at the penthouse until…”

An audible, high-pitched electric squeal split the air and made all four of my guards cry out in surprise as they yanked their Bluetooth earpieces out. One of them staggered to a knee from the feedback alone. The other three were all clearly shaken as the sound screamed down the hallway, making the glass walls start vibrating.

The agonizing sound abruptly ended and the hallway plunged into darkness.

Not complete blackness of course as emergency hallway lights fluttered awake and sunlight from the outer windows filtered through the clear glass walls. But it was a stark contrast from the harsh overhead LEDs to the long shadows and flickering hue of a less sterilized looking world.

The lead guard tried to recover his composure, still barking into his wrist mic. Trying to contact anyone.

So all of us were surprised when the private elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

Silhouetted by the elevator’s halogens was an immense man. As wide in the shoulders as he was in his was tall in those shadows. Dressed all in black with what appeared to be a felt cowboy hat off all things perched atop his shaggy head.

The guards surrounding me still staggered by the audio assault tried to focus on the man before us. 

“John Liu?” the man asked, his eyes glittering in the darkness as they found mine.

It was all I could do to nod.

“Okay, good.” The man glanced at my captors with what looked like regret in his eyes. Or maybe it was effort. “Release your fish or no one gets laid.”

Cantonese is a challenging language.

My captors grumbled in confusion. Glancing between themselves and the newcomer.

The man sighed and stepped forward, the elevator door closing behind him and reducing visibility even further.

“Fine," he growled, still in awful Cantonese. "Hard way.”

Things happened way too fast to keep track of it all.

Both guards in front of me raised their pistols as the huge shadowy man approached. There was a hum in the air that I felt physically blow past my face. I couldn’t see exactly how, but both of the guards’ guns went flying away, smashing through the glass partitions to either side. Their cries of pain and surprise were unmistakable and loud in my ears.

An arm snaked around my throat and a cold pistol was pressed up under my cheekbone as the lone female guard tried to drag me away. My heart pounded with hope for the first time in months lending strength to my feeble body, keeping the guard from pulling me too far. Finally I allowed my legs to collapse under our weight sending us both tumbling to the rough carpet in a semi-prone position.

Which gave the both of us a front-row seat for the silhouetted action.

The three remaining guards had all been disarmed now, with one literally writhing on the floor, clutching a clearly dislocated elbow. He screamed and kicked in agony while the shadowy dance continued above his flailing form.

Despite being outnumbered the huge cowboy was clearly not outmatched even as both black suited guards attacked from either side. With flashing limbs and flickering fists the guards struck repeatedly at the interloper which he either deflected or absorbed with surprising quickness of his own. Grunts and the slap of flesh on flesh echoed through the hallway for what felt an age but could only have been seconds.

What happened next was a feat of strength I wouldn’t have believed had I not seen it with my own eyes.

The big man came off the defensive for the first time by sending the right hand guard rolling down the hall with a timely block and shove, giving him space to focus on his sole remaining opponent. Said attacker got over zealous and attempted a leaping kick right out of a Hong Kong Action epic. And just like in one of those epics the man in the cowboy hat caught the guard with ease, pivoted sharply and slammed him heavily to the floor. Then without changing his grip on the guards’ leg the cowboy heaved the man from the floor and hurled him ten feet across the hallway into the now recovered right-hand guard, sending both of them crashing through one of the heavy glass walls. Their bodies joined their broken-armed partner in writhing in pain against the carpet.

Which was when the cowboy refocused his attention on me. More specifically on the lady holding me captive.

She chattered authoritatively at him in Cantonese. The words were jumbled and frantic. The translation would be what you’d expect though I’ll be damned if I remember the specifics. I was more focused on the arm closing off my windpipe and the pistol in my face.

The big man’s approach slowed. Whether he understood her or not, the intention was clear.

Stop or the reporter dies.

Finally he stopped. Raising both hands in surrender.

I wanted to weep.

My captor started to chatter again. Barking orders.

Which was when the emergency light directly overhead suddenly flared, erupting in a shower of sparks and hot glass.

My guard shrieked. The flash blinded me. There was a rush of movement and suddenly I could breathe easily again.

Vision came back blurrily. The lady guard was face first to the floor, her hands trussed behind her back. The cowboy made quick work of her feet as well and ignored her cries of anger and indignity.

“You good?”

I wasn’t used to hearing English anymore. Or Canadian accents.

“What … What’s happening?”

It was scary just how easily he hauled me from the floor to my feet, leaning me gently against the remaining glass wall. I was given a first person perspective of just how big this man was as he towered head and shoulders above me, his gray eyes giving me the once over. He slid a knife between my wrists and deftly snipped away my bonds, sending a rush of blood tingling back into my fingers.

“Can you walk?”

“What? I don’t…”

Ham sized hands gripped my shoulders firmly but not roughly. His eyes bored into mine.

“Mister Liu. Can. You. Walk?”

In spite of everything I found a final spot of courage, took a deep breath and nodded.

The corner of the cowboy’s lips curled up in a very slight smile. 

“Good man. My name’s Joe. I’m with a branch of the Canadian Government and we’ve gotta go.”

I found myself nodding, tears of relief itched at my dehydrated eyes wanting to appear.

My face must have betrayed the emotion as Joe resettled his cowboy hat, tucked away his knife in a cargo pant pocket and guided me swiftly over to the elevator doors. I might be mistaken but I would’ve sworn he made a gesture with one hand as the doors slid open as if they were the entrance to a grocery store.

“Keep it together just a bit longer, Mister Liu. Once we make it to the rally point you can break down. But until then stay cool. I can carry you if need be but I might need my hands.” 

The elevator doors slid shut behind me. I leaned gratefully against one of the cool, metallic walls and tried to focus on my breathing. Joe was facing the control panel with one bare hand on the security card-reader. We stood there a long moment lit in the dim emergency lighting.

“Johnny.”

“What’s that?”

I tried to find a smile. Didn’t quite manage. 

“People who rescue me from months of illegal captivity can call me Johnny.”

Joe glanced over his broad shoulder at me with an encouraging glance.

“You got it, Johnny. Gimme a sec, I’m still figuring this shit out.”

I glanced at the control panel his hand was pressed against.

“Do you need me to translate or something?”

“No it’s cool, I just need to concentrate for a moment.”

I tried not to panic and think about all of the security guards that the Gonglei Corporation had ready at Xiaotang Lu’s disposal the longer we waited here in this claustrophobic elevator car.

“When you came in didn’t you have a plan for getting out?”

Joe barked a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

‘Don’t worry Your Worshipfulness, I’ve got this.”

I felt a static tingle rush over my arms and neck as the main lights came on and the elevator hummed to life. The weird controlled falling at speed sensation hit my stomach as we began our descent back to the parking garage.

“Is the rest of your team here?”

Joe shook his head, adding to the sinking feeling. Gray eyes met mine in the mirrored door reflection. “I don’t like it anymore than you do. But they said something about not wanting to start an international incident.”

“What do you mean?”

“Unsanctioned military action on a private corporation in communist China? Big news.” Joe took a deep breath as the car began to slow. “One lone dissident getting into a confrontation with Gunglei Corp officials? No one hears about it, local government needs to save face and will bury the story.”

A bitter laugh escaped my bruised lips. “That I understand.”

The car slowed even more.

“Okay. The guards I handled on the way in might’ve recovered. Plus there’s gonna be more. Stay low and make your way to the van on the right, one of the ones you were brought here on.”

“What are you going to do?”

The car stopped. A familiar ding announcing our arrival.

Joe squared his shoulders and adjusted the wide brim on his black hat.

“Dunno. I’ll figure something out.”

The door began to slide open. Joe’s fists clenched and I felt the static electricity in the air around me again.

“Count to five and then make your move, Johnny. You’ve got this.”

Harsh voices barked from the parking garage. The sound of weapons being prepped filled the air.

Another rush of static washed over me sending every hair to full alert.

Then all the lights went out. More electronic squeals came from more Bluetooth earpieces. People screamed in pain and fright. Halogen bulbs exploded throughout the garage in a concentric wave of compressed gas flares and glass shards.

Joe was gone before my eyes had adjusted. I quickly lost count, screwed up the very last of my courage and scurried out the now dead elevator car into a mini warzone.

Gunshots and screams echoed throughout the cavernous garage. Shouted instructions from one guard to another mingled with screams of pain and no small amount of fear. The smell of cordite and burning rubber was heavy in the air even as I hunched over and limped along behind one compact car to the next, trying to make my way in the darkness. Broken glass from the shattered overhead lighting added an extra challenge to my bare feet as I inched along. Sparks showered down from the ruptured wires in spurts and flares, further disorienting me.

The next car I slipped behind rocked heavily on its’ shocks with a crash, sending me tumbling to the pavement with a cry. The windshield and engine hood were smashed from the impact of a Gonglei Guard who’d clearly been launched into the four cylinders’ frame. He lay there amidst the wreckage in obvious pain as I scrambled away on my hands and knees. 

After moments that felt like an eternity I bumped into something solid. 

It was the van.

Fingers trembling with eagerness as the sounds of violence continued behind me I scrabbled at the latch until the door popped open. I was hyperventilating as I scrabbled into the seat slamming the door behind me and hitting the locks.

It was all I could do to keep breathing and stay conscious. Every fibre of my tortured being quivered. I wanted to weep, scream, vomit and pass out all at the same time.

A face loomed out of the darkness in the side window. I flinched and leaned away.

Then I recognized the silhouette and the cowboy hat.

“Open the door!” came his muffled voice.

I fumbled around, trying to find the latch I’d hit only moments before. Then another wave of static hit me. The doors unlocked with a rattle as all the lights and icons on the dashboard came to life. To my continued shock the engine hummed and revved too.

“What… How are you …?”

The big cowboy swore gutturally as he tried to readjust the drivers’ seat and climb in at the same time. “Goddamn Asian electric vehicles. Sure, they start like a dream but I dare them to be built for plus sized dudes.” He started to settle uncomfortably, swiftly removing his hat and cramming it between our seats.

“Better buckle up, we’re not clear yet.”

My hands were numb. And trembling. Yet somehow they found the restraint straps and managed to click into place as the van lurched backwards. More voices shouted in a muffle from out in the garage. There was a series of banging sounds and cries of pain. Peering back over my shoulder I watched as Joe backed up without hesitation into the remaining members of the Gonglei Security Force before reversing direction and speeding away.

Another motion caught my eye in the back of the darkened van and I panicked before realization hit and my heart sank.

“Silvain,” I muttered.

“What?”

I turned away from my cameraman’s remains and closed my eyes. “The other captor. My cameraman on this assignment. His unsecured body is in the back.”

The tiny cargo van rushed towards the garage entrance where two more guards were waiting, waving their arms and standing in front of the lowered barricade. Joe grimaced and added more speed.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. That’s why I told you to go for this van. Didn’t want to leave anyone behind.”

“Thank you.”

One guard stopped waving his hands and reached for his sidearm.

‘Don’t thank me yet,” Joe muttered through a firmly set jaw as the electric van hummed in rapid acceleration.

While not as dramatic as most scenes from eighties television, the van did smash through the lowered barricade of the Gonglei Corp’s garage and skid out from under the skyrise building into what was still a gloomy day. Faintly behind us I thought I heard a few more gunshots ring out but not as many as you might think. Joe spun the van out from a narrow on-ramp and plunged recklessly into the busy streets, earning many honks of protest and curses from the gaggle of pedestrians.

For maybe three huge Shanghai city blocks Joe weaved in and out of traffic before settling down into a more sedate pace along with the thousands of other vehicles on the go. Though given the perpetual flow of vehicles in this city whether it was a plan or a necessity was difficult to judge.

My body started trembling. No matter how tightly I tried to hug myself and breathe calmly there seemed little chance to control myself. After months in isolation even this small snippet of freedom was overwhelming, both with fear and - even more dangerously – hope.

“Hang on, Johnny. I promise to get you out of this,” Joe said as his eyes flicked continuously between the road ahead and the vans’ mirrors. One of his huge hands was fumbling in the pockets of his black cargo pants as he muttered about poor lines of sight in the street behind him. Finally he fished out a small device and thumbed it alive with a click and a hiss of static that made the big man wince.

“Dammit. Hello? Hello, Charmaine? Can you hear me?”

A female voice scratched with distortion back through the device as Joe made a sudden left to avoid being stuck at an intersection.

“Joe? Joe are you there?”

“Yeah. I need an exit.”

“What? Joe I can’t hear you… You voice …. Breaking up… Where are …”

Joe sighed wearily and handed me the device. “Here. You gotta hold this for me. I’m too worked up.”

My trembling hands took the small black device, which looked like a cross between an early model cell phone and a small walkie-talkie.

“Do… Do you want me to …?”

Joe focused his searching eyes back on the road while shaking his head.

“Just hold the button on the side and point it towards me.”

Dutifully I pressed the response button and held it aside. The static resumed immediately but it was slightly less pronounced.

“Joe? Joe its Charmaine. I’m here with Lieutenant Connell at the airport. Can you hear me?”

“Charmaine, we’re on the road in the midst of bumper to bumper traffic and for all I know I’ve got both private security and local cops on my tail.”

A male voice cut in.

“Joe, do you have the targets?”

“Dammit, Connell do you think I’d have left the building without them?”

“I need to know for logistics, Joe. Stay focused.”

The big man took a steadying breath. For the first time I saw just how on the edge my savior was with fingers clenched so tightly on the steering wheel that the whites of his knuckles showed.

“I’ve got Mr. Liu safely in the passenger seat and the body of Mr. Pinchaud in the back of our van. Now if you can’t figure out a way to get us off these streets you’ll need three flags to drape over our ceremonial caskets instead of just the one!”

“We’re on it, Joe. Stay calm and keep this channel open. We’ll find you on the satellites and give instructions.”

“Thank you.”

Traffic lights changed and we proceeded along like just another rat in the maze of Shanghai streets, surrounded on all sides by other vehicles and pedestrians. Dutifully I kept my thumb down on the communication device and did my best to stop trembling.

“I’m never gonna get used to the steering wheels being on this side,” Joe grumbled with his head on a swivel, changing lanes and making another seemingly random turn.

“Where are we going?” I asked quietly. Afraid of the answer.

His gray eyes spared me a tense glance. 

“For now I just wanna keep moving. Keep us in public. While I’ve got no doubt that your captors would be willing to do almost anything to get you back, we’re really hoping that they don’t wanna be seen doing it.” He made another smooth lane change, avoiding the opportunity to take an overpass and drove deeper into the heart of the concrete and glass jungle. “I mean, the whole story between the PM and Gonglei Corp has been we knew you were being held captive illegally but Ms. Lu never acknowledged involvement. So…”

“You’re hoping that making a scene is the last thing they want to do. Not wanting to lose face on the international media scene.”

Joe shrugged. “I ain’t exactly an expert on Chinese culture, but that feels right.”

I shook my head and looked out the window. In spite of myself feeling my heart soar at the mere prospect of being released from captivity. 

“Why you?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, why just you? If the Canadian Government wanted to send in a rescue force I figured there’d be a team?”

At the next intersection the flashing lights of emergency vehicles came into view. Without any apparent panic Joe switched lanes and the van made a sedate left onto a side street, came around behind what appeared to be another banking conglomerate’s skyscraper and pulled into a tiny, automated public parking tower. We ascended the ramp slowly as Joe replied. “A team is tough. Too many people involved. Too many chances to be spotted or have the word leak out. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly?”

Joe’s lips formed a tight grimace before he replied. “Yeah, that stuff’s outta my hands. Like I said, I figure the PM wanted to avoid an international incident. Sending a squad from Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry would’ve caused a scene. But sending me? Well…”

“Well what?”

He laughed.

“One man is an anomaly. Plausibly deniable.”

“You’re saying that you’re expendable?”

He shrugged. 

“I mean, in a way. Yeah.”

I felt the flutter of hope in my heart sink down past my stomach.

“We’re dead.”

Joe’s chuckle might’ve been grim but at least it sounded genuine. “Not yet, Johnny. We aren’t completely alone.” He motioned for me to hold up the transmitter again. “Charmaine? Please tell me you’ve got us an exit?”

The static-filled female voice came back on through the communicator in my trembling hands. “It’s not perfect. But it’s close by.”

Joe slid the van into a tight parking spot and killed the engine. “We’ll take it. I’m switching vehicles now.”

“Find one with a GPS map!” said the voice.

Joe scowled.

“How will I know?”

“Joe, you’re in Shanghai. Every other car made in the last decade has a computer in it.”

Joe gave me a glance.

I shrugged.

“Technological centre of the world?”

“Fair enough.” Joe slid out the driver’s seat and peered around carefully. “Come on, we gotta keep moving.” 

Sliding out of the van shouldn’t have been so hard. But after everything it was difficult to do even the most basic things like standing and walking on my own. Regardless I made it to my feet and slid along the side of the Gonglei Corp’s unmarked van. By the time I got to the rear bumper Joe had apparently decided on a new vehicle a few cars down from us. He laid a hand carefully on the hood for a moment. To my continued surprise the midsized hatchback hummed to life. With some difficulty Joe leveraged his huge frame behind the drivers’ seat and backed it out of the spot until it was only feet from the van. He slid out with only slightly less difficulty and popped the trunk.

 “What… How did you …”

“Get in the car and see if you can work the map, Johnny.” Joe had the back of the van open now and was grimacing sadly. With another a firm, emotionless expression he slid Silvain’s body out, cradled him gently in his arms before resting him carefully into the new vehicle. He managed all this and closed all the doors before I’d even made it to the passenger seat. “Let’s go.”

It took me a moment but I made it into the car. The heads-up-display was active if a bit glitchy as Joe shifted the car into drive and started rolling away. At the entrance to the parking garage the big man slid off his cowboy hat and tucked it next to his feet just as another Gonglei Corp van was just pulling into the facility as we rolled on.

“Did they see us?”

“Doesn’t matter. At least we know this car isn’t chipped,” Joe replied as he smoothly rolled into traffic, changing lanes at the first opportunity and taking the first turn out of sight. “Charmaine, where are we heading?”

The staticky voice provided an address over the odd communicator. It took me a few tries to figure out how to switch to Google Maps on the HUD but eventually managed to get it activated.

Joe glanced at the screen quickly, clearly trying not to focus on it.

“What is that, Char?”

“It’s a private airfield. Less than 20 kilometres away. We’ve arranged for your RCAF transport plane to reroute there for an emergency refueling. They’re just landing now but won’t be allowed to stay long as it violates most customs we have in place with China. So you’d better hurry before they’re forced to take off again.”

“Security at the airfield?”

“Oh yeah. You’ll need to be extra persuasive when you get there.”

Joe sighed heavily and rubbed at one temple as if it pained him. “Right. See you on the other side, Char. Thanks.”

The tiny electric hatchback zipped along under Joe’s direction, weaving in and out of traffic. I huddled wearily in my passenger seat, keeping an eye on the HUD and pointedly not glancing over my shoulder at my cameraman’s remains.

Joe grumbled and adjusted uncomfortably, reaching into one of the many pockets of his black cargo pants. “Tiny fucking cars” he muttered before bringing what looked like some kind of candy bar up to his lips and ripped it open. He’d jammed half the bar into his mouth before he thought to glance at me. “Sorry. Hungry?”

“Please.”

Juggling the open bar into his driving hand Joe fished out a second one. “Take your time chewing this. It might be tough in your condition.”

The bar was longer than my hand and surprisingly heavy. Wrapped in a plain silver foil and otherwise unmarked. “What is it?”

“Two thousand calorie, high protein meal replacement bar.” Joe replied, his voice garbled though a full mouth. “Doesn’t taste great, but it has everything I need in a pinch.”

The foil parted with surprising ease. The plain, brownish looking bar looked like every convenience store protein bar you’d ever seen. Tasted even worse. And he was right about the density. It took me a full minute to get the small bite I’d taken chewed properly with my loosened teeth until I felt safe in swallowing.

Joe handed me a metal water bottle he’d pulled from another pocket. It was open and half empty. “Take your time with this. It’s all I’ve got left.”

The lukewarm water went down like the coldest beer on the hottest day off a dock on Lake Superior. Washing away a mouthful of grit and adding a moments respite to my dehydration. It also mingled with the food-by-definition that was working its way into my shriveled stomach.

“Thank you.”

“Sorry I don’t have anything else to offer – ah, dammit!” Joe earned himself a loud honk from other drivers who were protesting our sudden lane change to avoid missing the overpass exit leading away from the heart of the city. Joe frantically scanned the mirrors and the road ahead before daring to increase our speed now that we had some more room. “I’m never gonna get used to driving on the wrong side, this shit is completely throwing me off.”

“You’re doing better than me.”

“I haven’t been beaten and starved for a few months though. So … no offence.”

I actually laughed.

“None taken. Thank you.”

“All good. Sorry I don’t have anything else to eat.”

“No not that. Thank you for coming for us.”

Joe glanced at me with discomfort in his eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I really do. No one else was coming.’

“Not because they didn’t want to.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, I don’t know all the details because that ain’t my job. But they wouldn’t have pulled me out of training sixteen hours ago without notice if they could’ve figured out a diplomatic way to get you two freed.”

His words washed over me.

“Are you saying…? Joe have you never done this before?”

He glanced at me uncomfortably again. 

“Infiltrate a Chinese tech-Magnates head office in Shanghai to liberate foreign nationals? No, this is a first.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know what you mean. And yeah… first real mission.”

I bravely took another bite of my MRE. Somehow it didn’t seem like what I’d have chosen for a last meal.

“So should I be concerned or excited?”

This time Joe barked a laugh.

“What’s the difference?”

We drove in silence for a time. I managed to choke down another bite of my food and sipped water. At first all this did was highlight aches and pains I’d forgotten about, however eventually it got my brain working as I started piecing together the last 45 minutes of my life.

“So… You’re here in China alone?”

Joe grunted non-commitally, his eyes flickering from the road to his mirrors without pause and barely blinking. 

“I mean, you don’t have a team with you?”

He motioned with a nod towards the communication device I was still clutching. “That’s the team.”

“Where are they?”

“Not in the country. Not officially I mean. There are two handlers that were waiting for us at the commercial airport to kit you up and smuggle you aboard the RCAF plane that Charmaine got re-routed. China has to approve any Canadian officials coming into their airspace. I don’t know how they were gonna get you aboard though. That’s over my head.”

“So what, did you sneak in on a boat or something?”

Joe snorted. “Please. Tourist Visa. Row 47 centre seat on the red-eye plane this morning. Was the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been in a vehicle into I got behind the wheel of this shoebox.”

“How’d you find me?”

“CSIS lost track of your physical location a few weeks ago but was monitoring the chatter. Knew that you and your partner were being brought to the Gonglei HQ today after negotiations between President Xi and the PM went to shit for the last time. An operative met me on the downtown train and got me to the head office.”

“Why didn’t he help?”

“She couldn’t blow her cover as a member of the Gonglei Corp social media team. Got me set up at Korean BBQ stand near the HQ where I could wait for you to arrive. Do you know why Korean BBQ is such in thing in China? You’d think it would be something else.”

“Is that who gave you all your tech then?”

“What tech?”

I motioned with the communicator.

“Oh. Yeah. She gave me that and a quick layout of the penthouse so I had some idea what I’d be walking into.”

“What about the rest of it?”

“The rest of what?”

“The lights? The power outages. Even hijacking this car? What did she give you for that? Or is someone else helping online?”

“Like my Microchip?”

“Huh?”

“Sorry. Like my person in the chair?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Joe sighed.

“My eye in the sky pulling strings for me?”

“Yeah? Is this Charmaine person doing that?”

Joe was quiet for a moment and pursed his lips. 

“Sure. Sounds good.”

“What branch of the service are you with?”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t interrogate me.”

Which I realized I was starting to do, a sign that my confidence and journalistic instincts were returning.

“I’m sorry. But I have so many questions.”

“Look, I get it. But the truth is I don’t exist. And once I get you outta Shanghai and onto the plane that hopefully is still waiting for us you won’t be able to talk about this.”

“I can’t keep silent about the atrocities I’ve experienced, Joe. The very nature of my job is to find stories and bring them to light.”

“And I’m sure you’ll get that chance. To tell your story. To share your experiences.” The car lurched as Joe made a sharp lane change to avoid missing his off ramp. “Damn, these cars are touchy.”

“Are you a spy?”

“Trust me, I’d make a terrible spy.” 

“Then why won’t...?”

“Look Johnny, you’re gonna get home. You’re gonna get to see your family again, I promise you that. The CBC and others will want a piece of you and your story, which is important for the world to know about the kinda crap that is going on on in this country. You will make people question why we do business with people like the Gonglei Corporation. That is the most important thing to come outta this whole mess for you. Getting to show your heroism and bravery during this horrible experience.” Joe’s gray eye gave me a quick, serious stare. “But before that you’ll be given a story about how you were liberated that won’t mention me, Charmaine or Connell at all. And you’ll need to stick to that story.”

Conflicting emotions bubbled up inside of me.

“That doesn’t seem right.”

“Few things do. Now focus. What’s the priority here?”

I took a deep and hopeful breath.

“Getting home alive?”

“Damned right.”

Faintly the sound of sirens hit my ears. Also faintly were flashes of red and blue lights in the rear-view mirror. 

I felt my stomach clench.

“Is that for us?”

Joe didn’t reply as he focused between the mirror and the HUD readout, seeming to debate his options. The private airport was only 4 minutes away.

“Fuck it. Let’s be bad guys.”

“What?”

The tiny electric cars’ engine hummed and the other traffic outside the windows began to speed past as Joe opened her up and took off down the highway, motioning for me to hold up the communicator again.

 “Charmaine?” he cried out, excitement in his voice.

“What is it, Joe?”

“I’ve got police on my tail.”

“Joe, there’s nothing I can do about them.”

“I know. Is the plane still there?”

“Yes, but the Chinese Authorities are insisting they take off ASAP. The cargo plane has overstayed its’ welcome.”

“Haven’t we all,” Joe muttered, his eyes alight and calculating. In the near distance I could make out the tiny tower for the private air strip. “Fine, tell the pilot to hit the runway and prepare to take off. You’re sure it’s a cargo plane, right?”

“Joe... Tell me you’re not thinking about…”

“I’m definitely not thinking. Have them drop the loading ramp.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Yeah. Probably.” The energy in Joe’s eyes was positively electric as we raced towards the airstrip. “We’re gonna do some Dom Toretto shit.”

Things started to get blurry and everything began to happen at once. Joe drove the car off the freeway exit without slowing down, barely managing to avoid crashing our stolen hatchback into other traffic or the barricades. The sound of sirens behind us was unmistakable now though I didn’t want to take my eyes off the road in front of us.

The private airstrip was as you’d expect for the more affluent members of the Chinese population. As such the terminal and parking lot was well protected with a wall, a gated entrance and armed guards in sight. We were racing towards the barricade even as the uniformed security team began to spill out of their shack, brandishing weapons and shouting instructions over a loudspeaker. 

Then another surge of static electricity sent goosebumps over my arm as an impossibly loud feedback squealed out into the air, blasting from the guard houses’ loudspeakers. Several guards collapsed to the ground from the noise, the rest covered their ears and cowered away while the barricade slowly began to rise out of our way.

For half a second the cars’ engine and HUD sputtered and appeared to die on us while the communicator I was gripping chirped and got very hot. Then everything righted itself and we zoomed ahead even faster than before. The lone guard with the misfortune to still be in our way got clipped and hurled aside as we raced along, clearing the rising barricade by inches at best.

The static wave lessened somewhat and the electronic squealing died away, though instantly replaced with a more familiar squealing of rubber tires followed by crashes and shouts. When Joe turned to follow the road past the air terminal I glanced out my side window, amazed to see that the barricade had fallen behind us on top of a pursuing police car. Which then caused a pile up of the cars behind them.

“How did…? What’s going on?”

“We’re doing the impossible and that makes us mighty,” Joe replied with a breathless growl, his eyes alight and his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“What does that mean?” My voice might’ve been frantic.

The car took a sudden right, bouncing us painfully over a rounded curb, smashing through a chain link fence and suddenly we were on the airstrip proper. An RCAF cargo plane was slowly beginning to make its ascent down the runway in the opposite direction from us.

“Goddammit,” Joe snarled snatching the communicator from my numb fingers. “Charmaine, get them to open the loading door!”

“Joe, I’ve spoken to the captain and they’re freaked out. This is way out of their normal protocol and they’ve never done anything like this before!”

“And I have?”

“Joe...”

“This is our last chance, Charmaine. I’m gonna be on their tail in seconds. Please.”

Silence.

Emergency vehicle lights began to reflect in the rear-view mirrors again.

The cargo plane was beginning to pick up speed even as we hustled to catch up. I was able to clearly see the Canadian flag and call sign stenciled onto the fuselage as we approached.

Without ceremony the loading door began lowering even as the runway was getting down to the last 500 yards give or take.

“I owe you a beer, Charmaine!” Joe hollered before righting the car’s trajectory and putting us directly behind the cargo plane. Winds buffeted the tiny metal frame as we crept up on the lowering ramp way foot by foot. I could feel every bone in my body and every part of our stolen vehicle rattling under the pressure as we inched our way to freedom.

I couldn’t hear anything aside from the rushing of blood in my ears and the power of the air rattling the windows.

Finally the ramp fully lowered, I could see sparks when it scraped against the tarmac. 

I could also see other cargo in the hold.

My stomach sank.

“We’re not going to fit.”

Another rush of static washed over me even more intensely than before. The car lurched forward suddenly as if it were drawn on a string inexorably towards the ramp way. When Joe spoke his voice sounded like it was coming through a filtered speaker.

“Fuck that. This is a compact car!”

Our front tires hit the ramp with a rattle and immediately I felt that awful weightlessness you get on initial takeoff. I was screaming with every last fibre of my being as we rocketed into the plane now on a stomach dropping angle. I closed my eyes as the loaded boxes rushed towards us at top speed as all sounds and sensations became meshed together. Static made every hair stand on end as we lurched and rattled. I could feel the air temperature change, dropping drastically even as my sense of gravity completely left me.

After a few moments I realized some things.

First; some time had passed and I was still screaming. 

Second; the sound of wind and rattling had become much less desperate. 

Finally; the static feeling was gone. But the air smelled strongly of burning rubber.

I opened my eyes.

It was dim but after what I’d been through my vision adjusted quickly. The running lights along the length of the RCAF cardo plane were spaced at every hull interval along the beams. Inches in front of the stolen car’s hood was the first of several tightly packed and secured with tie down canvass straps of what appeared to be medical supplies. Or ammunition for all I knew. 

Peering back over my shoulder the loading ramp was sealed and the car’s rear bumper was pressed tightly against it, elevated slightly. Showing exactly how tight a fit it was for us to have caught this plane.

A light rumbling caught my attention. Joe was passed out next to me, his head back against the seat uncomfortably with his eyes closed and snoring. Sweat covered the exposed flesh along his face, neck and arms making him look much more gaunt and frail than he had moments before. But there he was in the drivers’ seat of our tiny Asian hatchback passed out and blissfully snoring as the cargo plane we’d managed to catch up to began to level off its ascent.


Sometime later an air force member came to the hold from the upper decks to check on us. After making sure we weren’t a threat she informed me that we’d passed into international waters and would be met in transit by two RCAF F15s to escort us the rest of the way back to Canada.


Which was when I finally allowed myself to cry.


-end-

*****


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Thank you so much,

AK