You went full racist. Never go full racist.

Kem: 3pm Wednesday



“I KILLED SIRIUS BLACK! I KILLED SIRIUS BLACK!”



That there is the sound of - and this may be spoiler territory for you guys who have yet to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, or read the book; (to which I say Eh? And What? Respectively) Bellatrix Lestrange skipping through the halls of the Ministry of Magic after just killing Sirius Black in the face with a wand. As is her will, being a crazy lady and everything.



“Hmmmph.”



That is the sound of AJ watching Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, exasperated while the noble house of Black is exterminated in front of his own eyes. I say noble, they pretty much aren't, they are scum. Elitist jerk faced scum.



“Whatchu doin'?” Asked Amy, sitting next to AJ on the sofa, while he watched. Mobile in her hand while trying to catch a particularly rare version of a Bastiodon.



“Research,” came the rather distracted reply.



“On?” She continued



“My next opponent.” He said, looking at her.



“You're facing Sirius Black?” She asked, puzzled. She hadn't checked the card yet. Sirius Black showing up at UCI would be a turn up for the books. After all, he's A. Fictional and B. Fictional and dead.



“Nah,” chuckled AJ. “That'd be preposterous!” He smiled at Amy, eyes dancing with something she couldn't quite figure out. Maybe joy, or mirth. Definitely a happy sort of dancing anyway.



“Oh, alright.” She nodded to herself, looking rather pensive. “Who then?”



“His brother, or cousin. I can't remember, there are so many of them. Howard.” Came the straight laced reply.



“Howard...” She began, then trailed off, before it dawned on her. “Howard Black?”



“The very same.” AJ replied, with a rather sideways grin. “We got matched up for this weekend's Overload. It's the UCI World Heavyweight Champion v the Champion of Kem and Co-Holder of the ACTUAL world championship.”



She let out a small sigh, rubbing her hands through her hair, before putting in up on a pony tail using the rubber band that's just come from nowhere. Quite where she was hiding the rubber band is one of those great unsolved mysteries of civilisation. Just like you have the question, 'just who by and why were the pyramids built anyway' (spoiler – landing pads for starships. Daniel Jackson is right, yo) the modern day question to be answered is 'Where do women keep all their random shit when they're just sitting there wearing Pjs.' Either way, I digress. That's not important. The important bit is the small look of fear she had in her eyes, one that even AJ managed to catch.



“Don't worry though,” He said, placatingly. “I've been researching the whole Black family. For a Wizard, Howard doesn't seem to have much in the way of magic. He must be a squib.” He mused. “Either way, watching Sirius and Bellatrix go at it has told me something.”



“Told you what?” Amy asked, while finding her shoes. Apparently she was going to go out for a run.



“Told me that I have no idea how to beat this guy.” He admitted. “They weren't helpful at all. I mean it's a totally different style of combat as you would know.” He swallowed, a lump in his throat. “You know, back when....”



Amy saw AJ's eyes go down to the floor and a pang of sorrow hit her for a brief moment. The case was still ongoing, the lawyers were arguing over 293 different motions and generally taking their time to even remotely solve this case. At least that's what they were saying. Amy had a suspicion they were trying to drag it out as far as they can, knowing that they bill by the hour and how rich the person who was paying them actually was.



“Oh, AJ,” She started. “We'll win the case. Everything will be ok, you just have to wait it out. I'm sure that they are super busy right this second sorting it out in court. It'll be OK.”





Meanwhile, on the other side of the country, in Chicago. Bradley Whittington-Smithurst of the firm Smithurst, Baker and Smythe, the number 1 law firm in Chicago for all matters pertaining to the law and the go to guys for the super rich and famous was teeing off from Chicago's most exclusive course in Wheaton, Illinois. He was playing a round, that cost a few thousand dollars per hole. Because it was during business hours it was all billable to their client, who just so happened to be Andre Jenson. This was the 4th time this week he'd managed to get on the course after he successfully managed to argue that the evidence they were submitting was needing a bit of a review after further, unclarified evidence came to light and they needed to check it out. This was the 4th such motion passed by them and he felt like he had a nice grasp on the situation.



“I'm sure they are,” said AJ, with a sigh. He picked up his iPad and started scrolling through his Facebook account. Suddenly with an excited yelp he jumped up! A bright smile beaming across his face.



“I HAVE IT!” He almost shouted, breathlessly – like a child that is just about to go to Disneyland for the first time, to experience in person the awe inspiring spectacle that is a bunch of underpaid actors wearing costumes; trying to not kill their 49th kid of the day who has decided to try and pull their head off.



“You have what?” Said Amy, urgently.



AJ didn't answer, he just started towards the door.



“You have what?” She repeated. “I mean, I can come with you. I only have about 399 things I need to do today.”



The sarcasm didn't register with AJ, he just simply smiled and almost ran out of the room. “I'll meet you at the helipad!” He shouted while leaving.



Instead of walking straight out and following him, she picked up his iPad.



“Oh boy.” She said to herself, then rushed out after him.







Chicago: 2pm. Thursday



“AJ,” she tried again. “I really don't think...”



He cut her off with a dismissive wave of the hand while they walked down the street toward the main square in this part of Chi town. They flew to Chicago yesterday and set themselves up in a hotel while AJ cultivated a plan.



“It's a brilliant idea. House Black are currently having a parade in honour of their fallen cousin, Sirius. We go in, catch one of them with a Pokéball, interrogate them and I'll have my answer on how to beat Howard Black. It's foolproof.” He explained, earnestly.



“You remember how the ball didn't actually work last time with those kids?” Amy was rather sceptical. She remembered that the kid just didn't get in the ball and ignored it, then ran off.



“Modifications,” AJ said, rather cryptically.



“Modifications?” She asked, not knowing anything about this.



“Yeah, I saw something on TV once, and thought I'd try it.”



Amy simply shrugged. 'Just go with it' she thought, I mean that's pretty much how she's been for the longest time.



“OK, so what's the plan?” She asked. Trying to not show that she's actually dreading the encounter.



“OK, well,” AJ began “These guys will come round the corner soon, I can hear them now. When they do, we'll step out in front of them, introduce ourselves and give them a chance to tell us the information we need to beat Howard Black.



Amy bit her tongue. “Foolproof, sounds the best plan I've heard in the past minute.”



AJ smiled, in recognition of the compliment. Not noticing the sarcasm again. He put his finger to his lips, nodding at her and then pointing to the corner and street in a series of what he thought were military based sign language. He thought he was saying “5 seconds, then go that way toward the street.” Any military types would clearly notice the sign meant “5 sheep, porcelain doll.” Amy just assumed he meant follow him. Sign language is a funny thing.



AJ waited the required 5 seconds, the noise of the crowd getting louder and seemingly more angry the closer they got to him. He then walked out into the street,



Bradley Whittington-Smithurst, meanwhile was having a relaxing spa day just three streets away, in one of the most exclusive parts of Chicago. He had already spent $10,000 on a nice hot stone massage and bottle of champagne. He had successfully been in the courtroom for a good 5 minutes today, arguing a motion about when the trial would actually happen. He managed to delay it for another day on the basis that his witness, the person who is key to his whole case and will be the key to the whole damn case, is otherwise indisposed and unable to testify for the next day.



This was particularly brilliant as he had arranged for the witness to go on a pointless work based seminar, paid for by the company about the benefits of career based seminars. He successfully argued that this was business critical for his employers, so therefore had no option but to ask for another day of adjournment. Of course, as it's a working day. Mr Jenson would have to just continue to pay.





AJ walked out to the main road, standing in front of the people moving towards him. They were holding signs and he smiled to himself, vindicated that the people he were seeking out were the correct ones. He held up both of his hands and bellowed.



“OH NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK! LEND ME YOUR EARS!”



To his credit, the front line of the parade stopped, staring at him with cold, hard eyes. This set a concerto of stopping from behind them and the angry chanting downgraded to more of a murmur as people amongst the crowd conversed among themselves, wondering what this crazy guy and slender woman in front of them was doing, holding what looked like a white and red grenade. Satisfied he had the attention of the crowd, he continued.



“I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ARE UPSET ABOUT SIRIUS! I TOO BELIEVE THAT THE LIVES OF HOUSE BLACK MATTER! AS YOUR BANNERS STATE!”



Surely enough, almost every person in the parade had a sign which says #blacklivesmatter. Amy, knowing this would happen had been trying to explain to AJ for 24 hours that this would be a bad idea and they're the wrong type of Black people. The fact that he's here thinking that any of these people are related to Howard Black is a bad idea. However, he knew best, so here they are. 2 people standing in front of 200 really angry Black people. I say angry – it's more like confused.



One of the people on the front row finally had the wits to say something.



“Who are you?” She asked.



“I am Andre Jenson, King of Kem, Bane of Undersund, man of the year for Kem Magazine 3 years running. I have to face one of your bretheren this weekend in hand to hand combat. He is a bad, bad man and has very much unsettled his chi. I want to help him see sense by beating him. Will one of you help me? I want to very much beat up one of your Black men.”



At this, Amy cringed. That's not the sort of verbage you should use in this situation. You could see the eyes at the front of the crowd bulge, then narrow in mixture of shock and anger. They, however didn't come near him, seemingly because of the pokéball in his hand.



“Boy!” A male voice shouted. “You better walk away before bad things happen to you. You aint so tough without that thing in your hand I'd bet!”



AJ smiled at this, looking at the pokéball. “My friends. This in my hand is a symbol of my power over you, as it always has been. I am your master. This is a symbol of my superiority over you. I can catch you at any point, then, if I really wanted to I could make you fight against others in hand to hand combat. I have many different beasts, but I am yet to catch a Blackachu. If you do not give me the information I require, I will take one of you by force.”



Amy squirmed. AJ clearly didn't realise how bad this looked. AJ wasn't being racist in his mind. A Blackachu is what Howard Black or any of the house of Black would be called if they were pokémon. A completely innocent and non racist name for a family. The fact that AJ had no idea how abusive he was being to these people in front of him only seemed to make things a little worse.

The angry buzzing of the crowd in front of him made AJ steel his grip on the pokéball. He threw it down at the feet of one of the angry protesters.



Bradley Whittington-Smithurst received the call while he was in the middle of a foot massage from an Indian teenager, which he had paid $4,000 for. Within the hour, he was at the main precinct of Chicago's finest law enforcement facility. He importantly brisked his way through the reception, briefcase in hand – grandiosely sauntered into the cell area and barked at a few police before he burst into the interview room. He was in a bad mood. A relaxing day of busy lawyering has now come to an end and he's having to deal with a client.



“Don't say anything to them, Mr Jenson.” He began curtly, before sitting down in front of AJ, peering at him over his designer glasses. “What happened?” He asked.



AJ went over everything with him, explaining the match against Howard Black, how he wanted information to be able to beat him and defend his championship as well as the altercation with the people of house Black. He then went on to admit that none of it was racist and that the whole thing was a misunderstanding and he was only LAMPing with the ball and the thing didn't even work how it was expected to anyway. At any rate, the whole thing was a misunderstanding. He wasn't a terrorist, he's just a wrestler.



One caution later and a stern warning from the police to not incite racial hatred amongst the black community ever again, AJ was on his way back to the island of Kem and Bradley Whittington-Smithurst was in an expensive bar. AJ was grinning ear to ear.



“Why are you smiling?” Amy asked, rather tensely. She wasn't having a good day at all.



“Oh, I just figured out how to beat Howard Black.” He replied, his smile showing all his white teeth. “It came to me as I was lying on the floor, getting myself kicked. I realise I can take a lot of punishment. I'm don't need to beat him, I just need to outlast him. Howard Black is a tremendous wrestler, a little crazy, but very talented. He knows about 492 different ways to break you and hurt you, but he's never been truly tested or taken to within an inch of his life, not like I have, not like this. I mean the guy has problems at home, he talks to himself and is generally a little batcake, but he cahnnels that into his craft. I, on the other hand can take a lot of punishment, I have the mental fortitude to be able to take whatever he gives to me. I have the will to stick with it, I can take whatever the guy gives to me and then give him some back. I may not know 293 ways to make you submit or 29 different ways to put you in a toe hold, but dammit I will not be giving up.



I was wrong before, Howard Black is from the Black wizarding family. He has all the talent, he says all the right things and can get into powerful positions, but at the end of the day. They ended with Sirius. I'm more like Harry Potter. You can put me down, kill me even. But hell I'm coming right back to smack you with my wand. Howard Black, some time on Sunday will feel my wand. I will be victorious. Then I can figure out what to do with that Spotty teenage psychopath, Kyle Cameron.”