Post by Joey Flash on Nov 28, 2014 4:23:24 GMT -5
Five Years Ago
Mullins raised the binoculars to his eyes; the high ferns were almost blocking his view through to the front window. The curtains to the high windows were open, but no one was visible in the room. He waited and watched for another minute or so before lowering his binoculars and grabbing his radio.
Mullins: He’s in there, but I can’t see him, let’s move on the prick.
A crackles voice came back through the radio.
Voice: Okay. Just say the word.
Mullins contemplates for a while, and then speaks.
Mullins: We roll. Go!
The front door of the large house comes off the hinges as the battering ram hits. The men waiting at each side of the front door raise their guns to their eye line and explode through the door into the spacious hallway with cries of ‘Police!’ and ‘Don’t move’. Mullins sprints up the long driveway wiping the perspiration from his face as he reaches the door. He holsters his weapon and spits on the ground before he enters. He steps through the door and looks around. Seeing the decoration and work done to the house. Motherfucker. Walking into the front room, he sees the man in cuffs bent over a chair being searched up and down. Mullins smiles to himself.
Mullins: Hey motherfucker, you are fucking finished now. We have fucking got you.
The man turns around after the search and looks at Mullins, his eyes shot, but composed at the same time.
Man: Same prick as you always are Detective, a hello wouldn’t be amiss, along with…
Mullins punches the man in the face, making him crumple to the floor and pulls him up by his hair.
Mullins: Don’t fuck with me Malignaggi you piece of shit.
Malignaggi: …along with an explanation. Unless I get my house broken into and arrested for fucking your wife?
Mullins hits the man again, this time bloodying his nose.
Malignaggi: Don’t stop now Detective, make a permanent mark.
Mullins raises his fist again, only to be stopped by one of his officers who hold him back, calming him down. Mullins takes a few deep breaths before Malignaggi is raised to his feet.
Mullins: I have no need to make a mark. Life imprisonment will do that for you, you piece of shit.
Mullins takes a step forward towards Malignaggi.
Mullins: Joseph Malignaggi I am arresting you for the murder of Robert Facchetti. You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you at government expense. Do you understand?
Joey nods, staring into the eyes of Mullins as he is turned away and taken out of his house.
Later that day
Joey yawned and looked around the room, bare and dank. Two metal chairs at each side of a large table. It had been some time since he had been here last. There was a camera looking down into the room, he gazed into it and smiled to himself as he heard the door click open. Detective Mullins walked in holding a folder, alone. Ahh Mullins, you’re here alone again, ever the maverick. Joey promised to make this work for his benefit.
Flash: Composed yourself?
Mullins looks at him and lowers his coffee onto the table before pulling up a chair opposite Flash. The folder plopped onto the table, and Mullins produced a selection of pictures from it.
Mullins: Remember this?
Flash (without looking): No
Mullins: Look again; you people like to admire your handiwork, no?
Flash looked at the pictures on the table, they show a man pinned up on a wall with knives through his shoulders; head slumped forward with a pool of blood at his feet. Flash cringes away.
Flash: That is not something to admire.
Mullins: Not something to admire at all. But you’ve seen it in the flesh, so why look away now?
Flash stays silent
Mullins: What was it like, hearing his screams, his begs for mercy, pleas for his wife and children?
Flash stays silent
Mullins: Was it a struggle to get him that high on the wall? Was he dead or alive? Was he crying while he was being crucified?
Flash stays silent
Mullins: Why did you do it Joey, hmm? Money? Betrayal, you’re big on betrayal, right? Or was he fucking YOUR girlfriend? Business or Personal?
Flash stays silent
Mullins: You didn’t take precautions did you Joe? You didn’t seem to see the two people who watched you do your dirty work huh? It’s over. Two people placing you there at the time of his death, we have a motive Joey. You were sloppy you piece of shit. You will have the rest of your life to contemplate this while shafted every day. Your paizan’s will all have a good chuckle at Mr Malignaggi, the idiot and the fuck up.
Flash stays silent
Mullins: Stuck for words asshole? I guess life in prison is enough to finally shut your mouth you greasy motherfucker.
Mullins punches Flash in the nose, breaking it instantly. Flash just continues to look at him.
Mullins: Say something.
Flash stays silent
Mullins: Say…something!!!!
Mullins punches him again, this time on his eye, causing a thick gash, blood running down his face.
Flash stays silent
Mullins pulls his nightstick from his belt and goes to strike Joey once more. The stick is caught mid air by Joey, who stares hard into Mullins’ face.
Flash: That was what you call a ‘permanent mark’, detective. Police brutality and victimization. You are the idiot and the fuck up detective. I didn’t kill that man. As much as you want it to be true, it isn’t. Your witnesses are incorrect.
Flash lets go of the baton and Mullins takes a step back.
Flash: Now, my phone call?
Mullins smiles, even though he is still flushed from anger.
Mullins: None for you, killer. You are going to court and you are finished
Mullins knocks on the door and two officers come through, unlock Flash from the table and carry him out through the door.
Mullins: See you in two weeks.
28/11/14 - Present
Joey looked at himself in the mirror for a moment, pulling on the bags of his eyes to see underneath. With a sigh he turned away and unzipped himself and stood over the urinal. The Television title belt lay on the floor. It happened, it actually happened, Joey was a champion. The trickle of urine in the porcelain rang through the room.
Just as he was finishing off and dreaming of the glory of being the TV Champ the door flew open and a man entered, unzipped, cock in hand.
Flash: Jesus Christ, Hank, get the fuck out!
Hank Brown gave a small squeal and zipped his pants up as fast as possible, unaware that he had failed to tuck himself back in. The squeal quickly turned into a scream as he began hopping around on floor like a weasel on steroids. Flash watched the semi-retarded fellow until his agony died down. Screams replaced by pathetic whimpering. Hank started to regain his senses slowly but surely, he steadied himself and noticed there was not only somebody in the room, but his devoted cameraman had filmed the entire thing. Hank tried to compose himself.
Hank: Ahh, uhm, were you filming?
Cameraman: Yes, the part where you zipped yourself was especially good!!!!!!
Hank: Uhhh…
Just then Hank noticed who was in the restroom with them...anyone but him...please...why did he have to...he looked over to see Joey Flash doubled up in a fit of laughter before he finally slapped his hand against the wall.
Joey: Tremendous. You sure know how to put on a show.
Hank: Listen here! You shouldn’t scare people like that.
Joey: You shouldn’t stroll in with your cock out and then power your zip up through it. But really, what kind of retard are you?
Hank: Enough of this.
Hank cupped his privates with both hands once more.
Hank: Can I get a quick interview then.
Joey: Go for it. Oh shit.
Joey retrieves his belt from the floor and hoists it over his shoulder.
Joey: Real talk lemme start shit off right. McMorris, motherfuck do you hit hard.
Joey feels the side of his face and his clearly swollen jaw.
Joey: You were a reality check of the best kind. I jumped into this kinda blind and stupid and nearly got my ass whipped because of it. You’re a faggot, but you’re the toughest faggot I’ve met.
Joey looks at the belt.
Joey: I’ll do this right; I’ll do it with fuckin pride.
Hank stares at Joey incredulously.
Joey: What? I mean how can I be running my mouth about how he was a chump and I easily smashed him when it looks like I’m chewing a golf ball? Shit, yeah he caught a beating, yeah I took his belt, yeah I enjoyed taking a lit bit of glory from his fuckhead of a managers fat little hands, but shit I ain’t gonna clown this away. As far as I’m concerned this…
He points at the belt.
Joey: …this is just what I need. This demands excellence and this demands perfection. Week in week out, no days off, it ain’t the belt that makes the man it’s the man that makes the belt. I’m going to make this belt the most celebrated and cherished title in the entirety of the WCF just by sheer osmosis of my dominance. Call this shit an open challenge, anyone, anywhere any time. I’m collecting all of your heads, every time I defend this title the next week I get a completely fresh challenge, why would anyone give this up? This is paradise.
He looks around the toilet.
Hank: What about your uh…
Joey: Cut?
Hank: Cut! You could have been really badly hurt there Joey, it made for hard watching, Occulo beating the every loving shit out of you!
Cameraman: You said to me you rewatched it ten times Hank.
Hank: Enough!
Joey: He’s learning. We’ll see.
Hank: That’s it? Are you stupid or trying to be annoyingly cryptic on purpose?
Joey: The latter, problem?
Hank: Absolutely not, mental note, cryptic. Done, so that’s it?
Joey: That’s it.
Hank: Ahh, okay then, uhh, oh here is where we talk about your next match. The first defense of your title as you take on the talented Ryan Blake.
Joey: Ryan…Blake?
Hank: Ryan Blake.
Joey: So, Ryan Blake?
Hank: Uhuh, that’s what I said, Ryan Blake.
Joey: Aight, Ryan Blake. I’m looking forward to facing Ryan Blake more than Ryan Blake could possibly know. Ryan Blake has been my personal role model here because Ryan Blake really has a way with inspiring words; Ryan Blake has convinced me to Ryan Blake Ryan Blake Ryan Blake. What in holy fucking hell are you?
So let me get this straight, I go from a chef and a fucking weirdo, to a man who thinks he’s an undead warrior now to this imbecile who when writing his own autobiography managed to do a War and Peace level manuscript using just the words Ryan and Blake in the text, his father was Ryan Blake, his father’s father was Ryan Blake, all his pets are called Ryan Blake, he made his wife change her name to Ryan Blake so he could have sex with Ryan Blake, if he released an album it would be self-titled. I mean good god. This motherfucker is so obsessed with his own name he might as well be Mike Jones.
Hank: Who?
Joey: Mike Jones. See Ryan, as mind numbingly stupid as you are, you’re actually a bit of a prophet. The fact you were sat in hospital last week really took me aback, I gasped. I got a feeling in my gut that I was like seeing into the future or some shit, so weird. I wondered why? Then you got matched up with me. Unreal. The scene was missing a priest performing your last rites and a couple of grieving relatives, but close enough. I’m gonna crush you, you annoying blithering bastard. After your last promo even the crickets in the background were like ‘What the fuck is this shit?’.
I’m bred for this shit; you’re bread for a knuckle sandwich. I’m going to wipe the floor with you man I don’t even know what’s going through your little head right now, well except RyanBlakeRyanBlakeRyanBlake. It’s like fucking binary code, rather than 1’s and 0’s its Ryan or Blake. You’ve gotta be feeling a little depressed here man, you flub the chance to a title shot last week only to stumble your way into the cage with a hungry lion and a match with me. You’d have been much, much better off if you’d have managed to win last week and got to face the other Joe who would let you off a lot easier than I will. This is one hell of a consolation prize for you Ryan, the beating of a lifetime. I will beat the shit out you, and then beat it back in you.
I don’t really understand you man, see I have no idea who you really are, don’t misunderstand not like the other people I’ve faced so far, just legitimately don’t know if you are putting this act on, truly are a wacko or just an idiot. Either way, ain’t underestimating you here, maybe this Ryan Blake you show us is just the tip of the iceberg, albeit an iceberg of shit floating in the toilet. Man you got me fucked up and doubting myself, I have no idea if you’re even a real person. Maybe I’ll just be stood in the ring fighting thin air, what is happening here Hank am I going crazy?
Hank: It appears so.
Joey stares into empty space for a moment lost in thought. He begins to hyperventilate and paces up and down.
Joey: Is this really what happens to you when you wrestle here? Did Oblivion start out as a mild mannered office clerk and turn into…whatever the fuck he is? It’s like extreme Falling Down in this shit. If in five years I have a tattoo of ‘FEAR ME I AM GOD’ on my forehead and have replaced one of my arms with a sword please just do me something okay? Please shoot me in the face.
Hank: Gladly.
Joey: Okay, ahh fuck why do I do this to myself? He’s not a knife toting demon or a machine gun wielding religious nut, he’s a fucking idiot who repeats his name multiple times. Simple and plain, okay Joey? It’s all good, just breathe.
His breathing slows.
Joey: Okay. We’re good. Blake! I’m gonna fuck you up. End of story, I’m going in with my eyes wide open, I’m gonna dominate from the opening bell and I’m going to leave with my title. Wheel that leather bag out, light work.
It’s gonna be epic.
Five Years Ago - A day later
Joey sat in his cell, utterly alone. He felt his eyelid with a wince. Great going Joe, nearly losing your eye for a silly small victory, what did you even think you could gain? He didn’t know what to do; he was stuck without a friend and without family. He was finished. You won’t see me in two weeks Mullins, Joey let a chuckle escape his lips. I’ll be dead within one.
Joey had played his hand and it had busted quicker than a virgin with a Playboy model, he played his hand and he lost. He had two witnesses and he had been arrested, any hopes of wanting to slide back into a happy life after getting rid of Robert were crushed by his stupidity. He’ll have a price on his head more than he was worth.
He stood up and stretched. Was it worth it? What kind of pawn sacrifices himself for a shot at the king? This pawn apparently. His thoughts flickered back to the picture Mullins had shown him. Robert Facchetti was dead. His struggle was over, his nemesis, his enemy… it was over.
Joey had killed before, but it was never like this, it was never personal. Every time had been for self-preservation, he cried after each of those. When he pulled the trigger to end Robert’s life he didn’t know what he expected to happen, he had played the moment so many times in his head before. The thought had lulled him to sleep for the past three years. The past few nights have been the only sleepless nights Joey has had since. He pulled the trigger and felt…nothing. He felt every hope of him being a good person, being someone on a just cause for revenge disappear into the ether. Joey was hollow, Joey was empty and Joey was alone.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Alessandra Allegri picked up the phone. She knew what this would be. She could have screamed at him the moment she heard his voice. Stupid, reckless hot headed bastard, she was in the process of arranging the disappearance of Mr Facchetti with her father when Joey came bursting through the door covered in blood. Now more blood would need to be spilt to keep Joey alive. Stupid, stupid man.
Voice: Phone call from Joseph Malignaggi. You have ten minutes.
The crackling of movement and clinking of chains filled the receiver; she held it away from her ear until she heard a voice speaking up.
Joey: Hello?
She didn’t respond.
Joey: Are you there?
What she didn’t know is how to react. Should she be shocked or concerned? Shock would make him worse and make him worried she thought, but shock is the natural reaction here.
Alessandra: H-hello? Joey god what happened to you? They’re saying you…
Joey: Yeah. It’s tough to hold a phone in cuffs, uh, are you okay?
Alessandra: More than I can say for my front door.
Joey laughed. Good. Laughter is good.
Alessandra: Are you okay?
Good, now diffuse the shock with concern.
Joey: The food’s shit.
Alessandra: What’s going to happen to you?
Joey: Court date for about two weeks…
He paused.
Joey: Let’s cut the bullshit. I’m in massive fucking trouble here. They say they have two people-
Alessandra heard a voice in the background.
Voice: None of that Malignaggi.
Joey: Yessir.
Joey: Two people coming into the cell with me tonight. Bullshit right? I need my space.
Alessandra: You love your space alright. You didn’t do it Joey, don’t worry. Justice will prevail. I have every faith in our legal system; do you need help with a lawyer?
Joey: Do I fuckin ever…please.
Alessandra: The things I do for you never cease to amaze me.
Joey: You and me both…look, I gotta go, we got a queue waiting here. Thanks for everything. I’m just glad to hear your voice.
He paused.
Joey: Anyway, if I don’t talk to you…if I don’t…I love you.
Alessandra: None of that on here. You’re emotional, save that shit for when I next see you.
Joey laughed: You’re the boss. Ciao bella.
Alessandra: …ciao.
The phone clicked dead. Alessandra placed it softly onto the side. Love? She smiled. Interesting thought Joseph, stupid, but interesting; she was in a race against time. The way he spoke told her everything she needed to know, he knew the ramifications of what he did the other night. He didn’t want to form any more bonds before he died, a sweet thought.
She had already spent the afternoon sorting out arrangements and payments to squash any repercussions from Facchetti’s people, Joey can worry about his life a little while longer, he was safe, for now. However the problem that troubled her most was how to get him off of this and away from a maximum security unit.
So, two weeks, two witnesses. This was going to be troublesome.
Mullins raised the binoculars to his eyes; the high ferns were almost blocking his view through to the front window. The curtains to the high windows were open, but no one was visible in the room. He waited and watched for another minute or so before lowering his binoculars and grabbing his radio.
Mullins: He’s in there, but I can’t see him, let’s move on the prick.
A crackles voice came back through the radio.
Voice: Okay. Just say the word.
Mullins contemplates for a while, and then speaks.
Mullins: We roll. Go!
The front door of the large house comes off the hinges as the battering ram hits. The men waiting at each side of the front door raise their guns to their eye line and explode through the door into the spacious hallway with cries of ‘Police!’ and ‘Don’t move’. Mullins sprints up the long driveway wiping the perspiration from his face as he reaches the door. He holsters his weapon and spits on the ground before he enters. He steps through the door and looks around. Seeing the decoration and work done to the house. Motherfucker. Walking into the front room, he sees the man in cuffs bent over a chair being searched up and down. Mullins smiles to himself.
Mullins: Hey motherfucker, you are fucking finished now. We have fucking got you.
The man turns around after the search and looks at Mullins, his eyes shot, but composed at the same time.
Man: Same prick as you always are Detective, a hello wouldn’t be amiss, along with…
Mullins punches the man in the face, making him crumple to the floor and pulls him up by his hair.
Mullins: Don’t fuck with me Malignaggi you piece of shit.
Malignaggi: …along with an explanation. Unless I get my house broken into and arrested for fucking your wife?
Mullins hits the man again, this time bloodying his nose.
Malignaggi: Don’t stop now Detective, make a permanent mark.
Mullins raises his fist again, only to be stopped by one of his officers who hold him back, calming him down. Mullins takes a few deep breaths before Malignaggi is raised to his feet.
Mullins: I have no need to make a mark. Life imprisonment will do that for you, you piece of shit.
Mullins takes a step forward towards Malignaggi.
Mullins: Joseph Malignaggi I am arresting you for the murder of Robert Facchetti. You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you at government expense. Do you understand?
Joey nods, staring into the eyes of Mullins as he is turned away and taken out of his house.
Later that day
Joey yawned and looked around the room, bare and dank. Two metal chairs at each side of a large table. It had been some time since he had been here last. There was a camera looking down into the room, he gazed into it and smiled to himself as he heard the door click open. Detective Mullins walked in holding a folder, alone. Ahh Mullins, you’re here alone again, ever the maverick. Joey promised to make this work for his benefit.
Flash: Composed yourself?
Mullins looks at him and lowers his coffee onto the table before pulling up a chair opposite Flash. The folder plopped onto the table, and Mullins produced a selection of pictures from it.
Mullins: Remember this?
Flash (without looking): No
Mullins: Look again; you people like to admire your handiwork, no?
Flash looked at the pictures on the table, they show a man pinned up on a wall with knives through his shoulders; head slumped forward with a pool of blood at his feet. Flash cringes away.
Flash: That is not something to admire.
Mullins: Not something to admire at all. But you’ve seen it in the flesh, so why look away now?
Flash stays silent
Mullins: What was it like, hearing his screams, his begs for mercy, pleas for his wife and children?
Flash stays silent
Mullins: Was it a struggle to get him that high on the wall? Was he dead or alive? Was he crying while he was being crucified?
Flash stays silent
Mullins: Why did you do it Joey, hmm? Money? Betrayal, you’re big on betrayal, right? Or was he fucking YOUR girlfriend? Business or Personal?
Flash stays silent
Mullins: You didn’t take precautions did you Joe? You didn’t seem to see the two people who watched you do your dirty work huh? It’s over. Two people placing you there at the time of his death, we have a motive Joey. You were sloppy you piece of shit. You will have the rest of your life to contemplate this while shafted every day. Your paizan’s will all have a good chuckle at Mr Malignaggi, the idiot and the fuck up.
Flash stays silent
Mullins: Stuck for words asshole? I guess life in prison is enough to finally shut your mouth you greasy motherfucker.
Mullins punches Flash in the nose, breaking it instantly. Flash just continues to look at him.
Mullins: Say something.
Flash stays silent
Mullins: Say…something!!!!
Mullins punches him again, this time on his eye, causing a thick gash, blood running down his face.
Flash stays silent
Mullins pulls his nightstick from his belt and goes to strike Joey once more. The stick is caught mid air by Joey, who stares hard into Mullins’ face.
Flash: That was what you call a ‘permanent mark’, detective. Police brutality and victimization. You are the idiot and the fuck up detective. I didn’t kill that man. As much as you want it to be true, it isn’t. Your witnesses are incorrect.
Flash lets go of the baton and Mullins takes a step back.
Flash: Now, my phone call?
Mullins smiles, even though he is still flushed from anger.
Mullins: None for you, killer. You are going to court and you are finished
Mullins knocks on the door and two officers come through, unlock Flash from the table and carry him out through the door.
Mullins: See you in two weeks.
28/11/14 - Present
Joey looked at himself in the mirror for a moment, pulling on the bags of his eyes to see underneath. With a sigh he turned away and unzipped himself and stood over the urinal. The Television title belt lay on the floor. It happened, it actually happened, Joey was a champion. The trickle of urine in the porcelain rang through the room.
Just as he was finishing off and dreaming of the glory of being the TV Champ the door flew open and a man entered, unzipped, cock in hand.
Flash: Jesus Christ, Hank, get the fuck out!
Hank Brown gave a small squeal and zipped his pants up as fast as possible, unaware that he had failed to tuck himself back in. The squeal quickly turned into a scream as he began hopping around on floor like a weasel on steroids. Flash watched the semi-retarded fellow until his agony died down. Screams replaced by pathetic whimpering. Hank started to regain his senses slowly but surely, he steadied himself and noticed there was not only somebody in the room, but his devoted cameraman had filmed the entire thing. Hank tried to compose himself.
Hank: Ahh, uhm, were you filming?
Cameraman: Yes, the part where you zipped yourself was especially good!!!!!!
Hank: Uhhh…
Just then Hank noticed who was in the restroom with them...anyone but him...please...why did he have to...he looked over to see Joey Flash doubled up in a fit of laughter before he finally slapped his hand against the wall.
Joey: Tremendous. You sure know how to put on a show.
Hank: Listen here! You shouldn’t scare people like that.
Joey: You shouldn’t stroll in with your cock out and then power your zip up through it. But really, what kind of retard are you?
Hank: Enough of this.
Hank cupped his privates with both hands once more.
Hank: Can I get a quick interview then.
Joey: Go for it. Oh shit.
Joey retrieves his belt from the floor and hoists it over his shoulder.
Joey: Real talk lemme start shit off right. McMorris, motherfuck do you hit hard.
Joey feels the side of his face and his clearly swollen jaw.
Joey: You were a reality check of the best kind. I jumped into this kinda blind and stupid and nearly got my ass whipped because of it. You’re a faggot, but you’re the toughest faggot I’ve met.
Joey looks at the belt.
Joey: I’ll do this right; I’ll do it with fuckin pride.
Hank stares at Joey incredulously.
Joey: What? I mean how can I be running my mouth about how he was a chump and I easily smashed him when it looks like I’m chewing a golf ball? Shit, yeah he caught a beating, yeah I took his belt, yeah I enjoyed taking a lit bit of glory from his fuckhead of a managers fat little hands, but shit I ain’t gonna clown this away. As far as I’m concerned this…
He points at the belt.
Joey: …this is just what I need. This demands excellence and this demands perfection. Week in week out, no days off, it ain’t the belt that makes the man it’s the man that makes the belt. I’m going to make this belt the most celebrated and cherished title in the entirety of the WCF just by sheer osmosis of my dominance. Call this shit an open challenge, anyone, anywhere any time. I’m collecting all of your heads, every time I defend this title the next week I get a completely fresh challenge, why would anyone give this up? This is paradise.
He looks around the toilet.
Hank: What about your uh…
Joey: Cut?
Hank: Cut! You could have been really badly hurt there Joey, it made for hard watching, Occulo beating the every loving shit out of you!
Cameraman: You said to me you rewatched it ten times Hank.
Hank: Enough!
Joey: He’s learning. We’ll see.
Hank: That’s it? Are you stupid or trying to be annoyingly cryptic on purpose?
Joey: The latter, problem?
Hank: Absolutely not, mental note, cryptic. Done, so that’s it?
Joey: That’s it.
Hank: Ahh, okay then, uhh, oh here is where we talk about your next match. The first defense of your title as you take on the talented Ryan Blake.
Joey: Ryan…Blake?
Hank: Ryan Blake.
Joey: So, Ryan Blake?
Hank: Uhuh, that’s what I said, Ryan Blake.
Joey: Aight, Ryan Blake. I’m looking forward to facing Ryan Blake more than Ryan Blake could possibly know. Ryan Blake has been my personal role model here because Ryan Blake really has a way with inspiring words; Ryan Blake has convinced me to Ryan Blake Ryan Blake Ryan Blake. What in holy fucking hell are you?
So let me get this straight, I go from a chef and a fucking weirdo, to a man who thinks he’s an undead warrior now to this imbecile who when writing his own autobiography managed to do a War and Peace level manuscript using just the words Ryan and Blake in the text, his father was Ryan Blake, his father’s father was Ryan Blake, all his pets are called Ryan Blake, he made his wife change her name to Ryan Blake so he could have sex with Ryan Blake, if he released an album it would be self-titled. I mean good god. This motherfucker is so obsessed with his own name he might as well be Mike Jones.
Hank: Who?
Joey: Mike Jones. See Ryan, as mind numbingly stupid as you are, you’re actually a bit of a prophet. The fact you were sat in hospital last week really took me aback, I gasped. I got a feeling in my gut that I was like seeing into the future or some shit, so weird. I wondered why? Then you got matched up with me. Unreal. The scene was missing a priest performing your last rites and a couple of grieving relatives, but close enough. I’m gonna crush you, you annoying blithering bastard. After your last promo even the crickets in the background were like ‘What the fuck is this shit?’.
I’m bred for this shit; you’re bread for a knuckle sandwich. I’m going to wipe the floor with you man I don’t even know what’s going through your little head right now, well except RyanBlakeRyanBlakeRyanBlake. It’s like fucking binary code, rather than 1’s and 0’s its Ryan or Blake. You’ve gotta be feeling a little depressed here man, you flub the chance to a title shot last week only to stumble your way into the cage with a hungry lion and a match with me. You’d have been much, much better off if you’d have managed to win last week and got to face the other Joe who would let you off a lot easier than I will. This is one hell of a consolation prize for you Ryan, the beating of a lifetime. I will beat the shit out you, and then beat it back in you.
I don’t really understand you man, see I have no idea who you really are, don’t misunderstand not like the other people I’ve faced so far, just legitimately don’t know if you are putting this act on, truly are a wacko or just an idiot. Either way, ain’t underestimating you here, maybe this Ryan Blake you show us is just the tip of the iceberg, albeit an iceberg of shit floating in the toilet. Man you got me fucked up and doubting myself, I have no idea if you’re even a real person. Maybe I’ll just be stood in the ring fighting thin air, what is happening here Hank am I going crazy?
Hank: It appears so.
Joey stares into empty space for a moment lost in thought. He begins to hyperventilate and paces up and down.
Joey: Is this really what happens to you when you wrestle here? Did Oblivion start out as a mild mannered office clerk and turn into…whatever the fuck he is? It’s like extreme Falling Down in this shit. If in five years I have a tattoo of ‘FEAR ME I AM GOD’ on my forehead and have replaced one of my arms with a sword please just do me something okay? Please shoot me in the face.
Hank: Gladly.
Joey: Okay, ahh fuck why do I do this to myself? He’s not a knife toting demon or a machine gun wielding religious nut, he’s a fucking idiot who repeats his name multiple times. Simple and plain, okay Joey? It’s all good, just breathe.
His breathing slows.
Joey: Okay. We’re good. Blake! I’m gonna fuck you up. End of story, I’m going in with my eyes wide open, I’m gonna dominate from the opening bell and I’m going to leave with my title. Wheel that leather bag out, light work.
It’s gonna be epic.
Five Years Ago - A day later
Joey sat in his cell, utterly alone. He felt his eyelid with a wince. Great going Joe, nearly losing your eye for a silly small victory, what did you even think you could gain? He didn’t know what to do; he was stuck without a friend and without family. He was finished. You won’t see me in two weeks Mullins, Joey let a chuckle escape his lips. I’ll be dead within one.
Joey had played his hand and it had busted quicker than a virgin with a Playboy model, he played his hand and he lost. He had two witnesses and he had been arrested, any hopes of wanting to slide back into a happy life after getting rid of Robert were crushed by his stupidity. He’ll have a price on his head more than he was worth.
He stood up and stretched. Was it worth it? What kind of pawn sacrifices himself for a shot at the king? This pawn apparently. His thoughts flickered back to the picture Mullins had shown him. Robert Facchetti was dead. His struggle was over, his nemesis, his enemy… it was over.
Joey had killed before, but it was never like this, it was never personal. Every time had been for self-preservation, he cried after each of those. When he pulled the trigger to end Robert’s life he didn’t know what he expected to happen, he had played the moment so many times in his head before. The thought had lulled him to sleep for the past three years. The past few nights have been the only sleepless nights Joey has had since. He pulled the trigger and felt…nothing. He felt every hope of him being a good person, being someone on a just cause for revenge disappear into the ether. Joey was hollow, Joey was empty and Joey was alone.
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Alessandra Allegri picked up the phone. She knew what this would be. She could have screamed at him the moment she heard his voice. Stupid, reckless hot headed bastard, she was in the process of arranging the disappearance of Mr Facchetti with her father when Joey came bursting through the door covered in blood. Now more blood would need to be spilt to keep Joey alive. Stupid, stupid man.
Voice: Phone call from Joseph Malignaggi. You have ten minutes.
The crackling of movement and clinking of chains filled the receiver; she held it away from her ear until she heard a voice speaking up.
Joey: Hello?
She didn’t respond.
Joey: Are you there?
What she didn’t know is how to react. Should she be shocked or concerned? Shock would make him worse and make him worried she thought, but shock is the natural reaction here.
Alessandra: H-hello? Joey god what happened to you? They’re saying you…
Joey: Yeah. It’s tough to hold a phone in cuffs, uh, are you okay?
Alessandra: More than I can say for my front door.
Joey laughed. Good. Laughter is good.
Alessandra: Are you okay?
Good, now diffuse the shock with concern.
Joey: The food’s shit.
Alessandra: What’s going to happen to you?
Joey: Court date for about two weeks…
He paused.
Joey: Let’s cut the bullshit. I’m in massive fucking trouble here. They say they have two people-
Alessandra heard a voice in the background.
Voice: None of that Malignaggi.
Joey: Yessir.
Joey: Two people coming into the cell with me tonight. Bullshit right? I need my space.
Alessandra: You love your space alright. You didn’t do it Joey, don’t worry. Justice will prevail. I have every faith in our legal system; do you need help with a lawyer?
Joey: Do I fuckin ever…please.
Alessandra: The things I do for you never cease to amaze me.
Joey: You and me both…look, I gotta go, we got a queue waiting here. Thanks for everything. I’m just glad to hear your voice.
He paused.
Joey: Anyway, if I don’t talk to you…if I don’t…I love you.
Alessandra: None of that on here. You’re emotional, save that shit for when I next see you.
Joey laughed: You’re the boss. Ciao bella.
Alessandra: …ciao.
The phone clicked dead. Alessandra placed it softly onto the side. Love? She smiled. Interesting thought Joseph, stupid, but interesting; she was in a race against time. The way he spoke told her everything she needed to know, he knew the ramifications of what he did the other night. He didn’t want to form any more bonds before he died, a sweet thought.
She had already spent the afternoon sorting out arrangements and payments to squash any repercussions from Facchetti’s people, Joey can worry about his life a little while longer, he was safe, for now. However the problem that troubled her most was how to get him off of this and away from a maximum security unit.
So, two weeks, two witnesses. This was going to be troublesome.
