Title: $3500.00 Wingtips... Ruined.
Featuring: Marquis Peeples
Date: 2/20/11
Location: Melo's House

The moment Markus Culver felt the bottom of his calfskin wingtips slide slightly along the weathered asphalt, he knew the sound of his three thousand dollar shoes embedding themselves in a puddle of who knew how many days old vomit would soon be echoing in his ears. Still, he balanced himself as best as he could and lifted his foot to make sure the sole of his overpriced shoe was the only location disturbed by the petulant substance.

“Hey, mister, you gots a dollah?”

The slight whistle at the end of each use of the letter 's' was not the only thing that made PRIME's newest assistant to the Executive Vice President of Creative Development and Operations jump. No, it was the lack of hygiene and full teeth in what could only be considered as the grill of a 1973 Ford Pinto being crushed by a compactor.

“By Hoyt, please don't touch me.” Markus said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of change. He did not hesitate to toss it in the opposite direction he was headed, glad the beggar scrambled after the most money he has seen in Hoyt knows how long.

Culver let out a sigh of relief as he scraped what he could off the bottom of his shoe and continued his trek. He understood now why Caine had decided to send him on this little assignment.

“Just go down there and offer the guy a couple of hundred bucks to do a one off match,” Alex had said while Markus glanced over the address scribbled down on the back of Caine's business card. “He'd probably do it for a Happy Meal at McDonalds, but we don't really have the time to negotiate him out of asking for the Big Kids meal.”

Culver had laughed, thinking his boss was being silly, but with each step he took further into the rancid alley he understood that Alex Caine knew exactly what he was talking about. There was hardly enough time to wait until the former Golden Turnbuckle Tournament semi-finalist decided to exit the pitiful excuse of what the man probably considered home, especially when the flight to Italy was taken into account.

He glanced down at the photo Caine had given him, a picture the private detective Alex had hired to track the man that once wrestled against former PRIME Universal Champion; Jason Snow. The African American man was balding, gray hair like a horseshoe around the crown of his head. He looked like a cross between Redd Foxx and Kimbo Slice... A strange pairing to say the least. A thick, bushy beard shared the same age appropriate color that still found a way to cling to his scalp, and it appeared that he was wearing the same clothes throughout the week's worth of photos the detective had taken.

For a brief moment he thought his search was over, but the dingy white shirt he saw did not have the Indianapolis Colts logo on it, but what he imagined used to be a green colored horseshoe with the words 'Lucky to be alive' under it. Then, at almost the same time as the thought of running out of the alley crossed his mind, he saw it... Super Bowl XLI champion Indianapolis Colts is what the front of the shirt said.

He hurried, ran, in the direction the man was staggering, and hoped beyond hope that the old man would be willing to accept his offer.

“Sammy,” Markus practically yelled as he rushed up to the man with a surprised look on his face. “Mister Brown!”
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