Post by Joey Flash on Jan 2, 2015 19:49:22 GMT -5
Headache: (03/01/15) early morning...
The match came to him in spots between the blackouts. It was the middle of the night and Joey Flash was sat alone in his La Societa office, he was in pitch blackness. Joey had found himself very sensitive to light the past couple of days, his head throbbed and his short term memory was shot to shit. Earlier this morning he even shouted and screamed at Alessandra for not making him his coffee before looking down at the table to find it already half drunk in front of him. He knew he had a concussion, or worse, but was hardly going to shout from the rooftops ‘HEY NEXT OPPONENT, JUST HIT ME IN THE FUCKING HEAD’ so he decided to just keep it as quiet as possible. Lots of little naps and wandering the streets in shades, it was worth the funny looks of a man tottering the icy streets at night wearing sunglasses.
He massaged his temples as he slumped over his desk. He saw flashes of Occulo stood above him, smile on his face once more, then of him with the last little burst of strength, hunger and spirit left inside him reaching out to grab the first thing he could, it was mere luck it was Occulo’s arm. The fates smiled on him greatly. The arm of fate, Joey laughed; it was the closest he had ever come to defeat but fuck was it worth it.
The rush the match gave him was second to none, to start as untouchable as Neo and end up nigh on at the mercy of your opponent only to somehow stop that last bullet and remember you are the one after all. Joey gazed at the Television title sat on his desk, if things had gone just a slightly bit any other way it would be Joey in the hospital and no shining trophy of his worth sat waiting for him when he got home, only pain and suffering. As it stood, Joey Flash was still undefeated, he was still the champion and he had beaten his fiercest rival, snapping his arm in the process.
Joey reached under his desk and grabbed a half empty bottle of whiskey and poured it over the ice in his glass, he stirred it with his index finger and took a sip. It was an interesting feeling for Joey; he didn’t know what to think, what to feel or what to do next. What would Ahab have done if he had felled the whale? Would he have sailed for the rest of his life in happiness and contentment? He didn’t think so. He would feel exactly how Joey was feeling right now, emptiness, sadness and a feeling like nothing else will conquer the feeling of the hunt you just had.
Unlike Ahab, Joey had to venture back into the ocean the very next week and face his quarry again. Joey had hoped this match would have helped push him to a next level both physically and mentally, if anything it had done the exact fucking opposite. He stood up and took another sip of his drink, staring further at his title belt.
Joey: You…
He patted the belt.
Joey: You have a lot for me to thank you for. If I didn’t have you…
…if Joey didn’t have the belt, if he didn’t have the drive to have to perform every week he could see himself just slipping away and losing all his focus after Occulo, but this is a boon like no other. He would have to lace his boots regardless of his circumstances. Whether he was happy, sad, hurt or healthy Joey Flash would always be in that corner with the belt around his waist every single week. It was the clockwork of this federation, Joey couldn’t let this end, wouldn’t let this end. Sun rise, sun set, Joey see Occulo, Joey beat Occulo, Joey faces new challenger, Joey leaves champion. It was simply the way of things. Joey finished his drink and poured himself another.
He reached down next to his desk and pulled a crumpled newspaper from the trash, flicking through the back pages he found a large spread detailing the events of ONE. He placed the drink on top of the page, directly on top of the picture of him catching Occulo in Pain is Love. Joey picks his belt up and throws it over his shoulder, pointing at his drink.
Joey: Occulo…this one is for you...
He knew this much, Occulo was just as great as Joey had hoped, just as brutal, vicious and skilled in the hunt as he was. He smiled, almost moulded my own demise eh? Nah, fucker that was all your own work. Joey pushed the doors open, Occulo was done, on to the next one, back to the road again. Joey found his vision haze even further, his legs spasm under him and he collapsed to the ground, he felt his head but got the feeling this was something completely different. He staggered back to his feet and collapsed into one of the plants outside his office. He stared up at the sky to see the stars dancing above him, it was then he knew, even with concussion, he had been drugged. Fuck…fuck…fuck. Then Joey fell into darkness.
Down with the sickness...(Earlier that week)
The darkness of the winter nights was growing even thicker in the cold hard north. The winds whipped a furious hate filled dance around the carriage. This single little horse drawn carriage was moving slowly along the winding track, the whistling of the wind through the surrounding forest would have caused men with the constitution of an immortal to shudder. The carriage crested a hill, meeting it on the other side was a cathedral, inch by inch it crept into view and seemed to go on forever until the carriage was fully over the hill. Stood as regally as the day it was constructed, its spires reached up to the gods in defiance of its maker’s mortality.
The door of the carriage struggled to open as a figure stepped to terra firma from within. Wrapped in thick wools and a cloak, Joey Flash emerges. He gazes up at the sheer magnificence of the architecture in front of him; he turns toward the carriage driver.
Joey: This is fucking cool as shit. Is it for sale?
The driver cackles to himself, the wind carrying it across the skies.
Driver: Ahhh, if your soul is the price, boy!
The driver whips the horse and speeds off back into the forest, his maniac laughter continues for a while after until it gets lost in the wind.
Joey: Fuck.
The oaken doors were both wide open already, welcoming to any sojourners, sinners and sickness, Joey felt right at home. He entered the cathedral, his shoes echoing a hollow clicking through the vast interior. Joey inhaled deeply through his nose; a smell like a favourite old book from a library flooded his brain and with it came safety and comfort. He walked along the aisle until reaching the end; he stood in front of the font and gazed at the stained glass, painting a shimmering picture with the beating of the rain. A man in an endless tussle with a demon, the demon wrapping its hands around the mans throat and the man thrusting a spear into the gut of the demon. The picture made Joey want to enter it, choke the man out and then chop the fucking things head off himself. He turned back to face the front of the cathedral.
Joey: Welcome one and all. We are gathered here to lay to rest the beloved John Mullins Jr. He was known to his friends as ‘Occulo’. He was ended as he lived, like a sack of shit.
Joey scans the room and shakes his head.
It seems that we are going to have a short ceremony, we invited everyone who had ever met Occulo to come and say some words about him, but it appears no one arrived…ah it must be the weather. I understand. I did get one RSVP from someone called ‘ICEMOTHAFUCKA’ who wanted to thank Occulo for the ‘bathroom break’ during the PPV, I have no idea what he means, but it would have meant a lot to Occulo for someone to remember him fondly. Well if no one is going to say a few words I guess I’m going to have to read a poem in place of them. Hah would you look at that, I happened to pick one penned by myself.
Joey clears his throat.
You fought and you clawed through life
Finding nothing but war and strife
Finally finding a reason to exist
Wrestling and ruling with an iron fist
It was sad that day you pissed off Joe
He smacked you upside the head and made you his ho
It was your turn for revenge and it was coming at one
Funny, one fuckin punch and you were gone
I know I’m not rhyming after this
But you are a worthless cunt who was summarily dispatched into the trash. Let’s get it clear, you’re a fucking beast, but I beat you, clearly, no debating. I snapped your arm and broke your spirit. Lemme tell you something though eh? My back is right here, always, I’m going to always be here, I’m always going to be the emperor here. Take whatever you need for a knife and fucking use it. I’ll be waiting. Et tu Brute.
Joey removes his coat revealing a ‘SPOILER ALERT: Jonny Fly Joey Flash wins’ T-Shirt.
But let’s get down to business at hand. Time doesn’t stop for me just because I won a match, nah I’m straight back down to my shit again.
Joey points to the ornate stained glass of the man and the demon in combat behind him.
I came here to remember Occulo, but I’ve been inspired. Man and his innate desire to conquer, to control and to dominate. We each battle with our demons how big or small every day, whether it’s that struggle to continue walking past the enticement of your local bar, tempting you with its delicious amber or whether it is a voice inside your head telling you ‘TORTURE AND KILL THIS POOR GUY I HAVE TIED TO A CHAIR’. So I’m musing now, how does one conquer said demon? Does one listen to the little voice inside saying ‘drink me’ or ‘SLICE HIS FUCKING EYELIDS OFF’? Or does one go deep inside themselves and tell the demon directly to his face ‘No more!’ Squaring up with something deeper and darker than your humanity could manifest and mastering it, making it yours and becoming a stronger man? A demon is always defeated by a man, by a man’s reason, emotion and inner strength, to be able to live each day happily knowing that you are in control, you are your own destiny and nothing will ever wrench your thread of fate free from its course controlled by your actions. It’s a beautiful thing, truly. I’ve even seen it a couple of times, fucking Occy did it, I mean fuck I’ve lived it, ya know? What am I getting at here, what is my point?
Seifer Black, you are a fucking pathetic gutless idiotic coward of a man.
What’s that? It’s time for another fucking weirdo, come on down Seifer you fucking idiot time to take your medicine. Have I done something wrong? What the fuck? Fucking Seth, motherfucker I am not your in house psychotherapist to help deal with the people in the federation who have failed the ‘Fit and proper to wrestle’ test. Do you want to give me a new locker room, hook me up with some nice bookcases full of shit I’m never going to read and give me a leather couch? You seem to be filtering every single one of these guys through me; do you really think this is doing them any good? How would you feel if you were the parent of a troubled child, took him by his hand and said ‘Look little Tommy, you’re going to see Doctor Flash today, he’s going to take real good care of you, just talk to him, he’ll make it all better I promise!’ Little Tommy goes into the room happy and full of hope that maybe someone will finally take their time and listen to what’s going on in his troubled head. Fifteen minutes later little Tommy leaves after getting the ever loving shit beaten out of him and getting thrown out the window. I don’t think the parents would be particularly happy, so why, why Mr Lerch? Why would the parents then return a broken, battered little Tommy back to the SAME fucking psychologist? Then his other five or so mentally challenged brothers who also get lobbed out a fucking window.
Well fine, I’ll do what I can. Hello Seifer, we haven’t crossed paths before, how are you doing? Everything going well? How’s the family? More to the point you deranged bastard what in holy fuck are you doing wrestling? You should be running a fuckin cult, Waco ass motherfucker. I don’t care what you do in your leisure time…I mean what the fuck, if you enter a new country and they ask ‘Business or Pleasure?’ you have to choose between ‘Wrestling’ or ‘The kidnapping, torture and eventual sacrificial murder of a random person with my group of retarded followers’. Do you let border control in on your plans? I bet you have to come up with some interesting lies for the bag labelled ‘Evil Cultists Starter Kit’.
I don’t even know man, how do you do that? I bet Ted Bundy and Jeffery Dahmer would take notes from the way you’re conducting yourself, taking the uppermost area of public spotlight while creeping round in the shadows like fucking Nosferatu, you’re the idol for any wannabe serial killer. I wonder if we’ll see a Showtime production called ‘Seifer’ following a mild mannered wrestler by day, killer by night. Die slow.
I’m not facing the killer by night, I’m not facing the fanatic, I’m not facing the doomsday prophet and I’m not facing the demon, I’m facing the man. The demon is great, he lives and he succeeds, he does everything he wants and conquers all in front of him, the man called Seifer Black is a non-entity, you are nothing. Your biggest highlights are in the highlights of those that have beaten you. Let me ask you a serious question, how much more failure does it take before you just walk away? You’ve lost every single big opportunity you’ve ever had here. You may have picked a couple of trinkets up by sheer volume of your opportunities, but your skill has amounted to absolutely dick. You’re the first person that they throw in front of a new World Champion. Everyone knows what the outcome of the match is going to be, they all see the match for what it is. You’ll stand in front of them and you’ll be a live body for them to wrestle against for ten minutes before you crumble and fall. You are the rich mans jobber here my man. You’re like the fine caviar served up on the plate to any champion who has just been crowned. ‘Welcome to the top, now here’s your champagne and your snack’. You get chewed and digested then you disappear for a while only to repeat the cycle ad naseum.
Well here you are Seifer, you’re on my plate now, what do you think I’m going to do to you? What do you think is going to happen here? You gonna just do Joey Flash like the chump you think he is and take his title, maybe it’ll give you another shot at one of the more respected champions, that will work. Problems are aplenty with this plan though motherfucker, I don’t even know where to begin. This is going to be tragic on so many levels. You’ve gone toe to toe with every top star in this federation, you’ve fought each of the past world champions with all your heart and passion and damn you nearly pulled it off. See what you, what no one here seems to understand yet, is that this, THIS...is it.
Joey begins walking down the aisle and heading toward the exit.
You fought Beckman, you fought Orbit? So fucking what, both these faggots soft. I’m going to show you first hand the type of transcendence you are in the ring with this Sunday. It makes me laugh to be honest, I get shoved to the middle of the card and told ‘You fight this man this week Joey yes yes’. Yes yes Seifer, you’ve picked the short straw this week. It’s not going to be close or competitive, it’s going to be a one sided massacre. You’ve won titles, you’ve fought the best in the federation and not one of them is going to give you the beating I’m going to lay on you. Is it the title I hold? Is it the length of time I’ve been here? You’re going to actually come in to this match thinking you have a chance, and it’s so sad I could almost cry.
Could you tell me with all honesty hand on heart you think you could beat the top 5 here? Oh what’s that, silence? So Mr Black, will you really hand on heart come in to this match thinking you can beat me? The sad thing is I think your answer will be yes. I’m telling you this now; I’m leaving it no doubt where my standing here is, I bust my ass week after week delivering nothing but ether in my promos and in that ring I’m nigh on untouchable. What do you prophesize for me this week Mr Black? You gonna fuck me up and take my title? You gonna beat this rookie and challenge Beckman again? What the billion fucking times you already tried haven’t bashed it through your skull?
I’m going to forcibly show you where your status in the WCF is, Mr Caviar. You are the next in a long line of people who think that I’m someone who is just a placeholder waiting to lose before I disappear into nothingness and quit. Try it, I double dog fucking dare you Seifer, try me. It’s going to be the most brutal beating of your career. I’m not top 5 here; I’m above that, I’m so far beyond that it will blow your mind. My title doesn’t make me, I am not a gateway, I am a constant. I fight you faggots who are floating about in midcard obscurity and I put you straight back down to the bottom for having the temerity to think you can use me to bridge a gap to bigger and better things. There’s nothing bigger, there’s nothing better, everyone I’ve thrashed so far will be able to say in a year…in six months…fuck in three months that they lost to the best wrestler they’ve ever witnessed, Z-Mac and Occy will be beating my door down to autograph the picture of me whupping their asses. I’ll give you one free of charge Seify baby.
It’s not like I’m trying to make a stand here, I’m not calling anyone out and I’m not pushing my weight around with false bravado. I’m just speaking the truth, which a lot of you seem truly blind to. I’m speaking directly to every other champion this company has…where the fuck is your pride?
Joey exits the church and is immediately soaked through with the battering rain. He sits down on the steps, rainfall serving as a cascading chorus of serenity behind his words.
I’m over a month into this place and everything I’ve seen from you fuckers has been nothing but pathetic. You show no passion, no drive and no courage. I defend my belt week after week, I win and I win, but I show out and show off every single time. I elevate the belt, I elevate the company and fuck as much of a beating I put on my opponents, they get that Joey Flash bump of getting to fight me. You fucking guys are absent half the time and in non-title matches the other half. Man the fuck up.
Our hallowed World Champ defends his belt maybe once a month, motherfucker what are you doing? You’re a confident guy; you think you will win every match you’re in? Shit if your confidence was as high as your stand-up comedy is cringeworthy you’d be out there every week with the belt on the line, but no not you. You’ve paid your dues, so that allows you the courtesy of being a fucking pussy apparently. Fucking all of ya’ll. I don’t know what to say to get through to you. We even had a match between the World Champ and the US Champ with NO FUCKING BELT ON THE LINE. What are you people? Man the fuck up.
This isn’t anything you cocksuckers will acknowledge or talk about. ‘Oh that runt no one cares about called us chicken shit’ yeah, that’s lovely. I’m here, my belt is on the line every time I fight, and the least that could be expected of any of you is the same. I guess you’ve all gotten soft and weak in your longevity here, well that ain’t happening here, if I’m ever in the ring with another titlist my belt is going to be on the line, simple, I’m the one taking on all comers. I’m the ones shielding you cunts from people not worthy of your belts, all the while knowing I could rip your belts from each of you without as much as a second thought. The Television champion is here, and he will remain here for a long time yet, fuck you all. I’ll do my job so you don’t have to.
Joey stands up and stares up at the rain, strings of his hair glued to his face by the rain.
For now Seifer, just take each day as it comes; say your goodbyes because Sunday is upon you soon. Let me analyse the evidence we have gathered thus far before coming to a conclusion.
Exhibit A) Seifer Black is an excellent wrestler; he displays competence, skill and understanding in many styles and talents needed to succeed in the wrestling business. However Seifer Black when fighting the top tier of the WCF ends up on the losing end giving a creditable and valiant performance.
Exhibit B) Joey Flash has beat the fuck out of every single person who has shared a ring with him.
When regarding this evidence and on further review it is the prophecy of The Poonsday Prophet, yeah Bobby you like that shit don’t you? The Poonsday Prophet Joey Flash that Seifer Black is going to get his teeth kicked down his throat, get beaten up and humiliated, Joey Flash will AGAIN be Television champion and the world will continue as is. Good game well played.
Bodybags on deck.
Resume/Ignore: (03/01/15) late morning...
…Joey awoke. “Where the hell am I?” His head was groggy, as he found out was also the case with his body when he tried to stand up. He crumpled to the floor in a heap and threw up, chunks of sick getting caught in the tips of his hair. Only after this, did he realise he was sat on a toilet, he must have dragged his body here unconsciously, or maybe conscious but fuck if he could remember. He spat the rest of the sick out of his mouth and punched open the toilet door. He was in La Societa stll. He made his way out to the dance floors without cleaning himself up. It looked to be late in the morning. With a yawn he staggered to the lift, no bouncers? Joey slapped himself in the face several times to wake up, punching himself in the gut for measure. Again, sick. He got in the lift and had it take him to the top floor, his office. Again, no bouncer. Joey was starting to get anxious; the alcohol sweats that had already started were worsened. He cautiously exited the lift and walked, crouched through the shrubbery encircling his office. He checked his pockets for a gun, a knife, anything. To no avail. Joey edged closer to his office, luckily he had two way glass, a good decision. He peered into the office and saw three people, one in his chair and two people flanking him behind. He sat and thought for a minute, should he run? He slapped himself again for being so stupid. “Let’s try them”. Joey stood up and checked himself up and down, the appearance will be beneficial. He walked towards the doors and pushed.
Joey staggered, and fell through the doors.
Man behind desk: Joey Flash, I presume?
Joey tried to stand, but stumbled again.
Joey: Exschusse me?
Man behind desk: We’ve been waiting for you.
Joey: Huhhh? You gots me a preshennt? Hehehe
The two men behind the desk exchange glances.
Man behind desk: You could say that.
Joey: Wowee, what you got?
Man behind desk: Listen up Flash, I don’t wish to continue this further idiotic discussion, now let’s get to the business at hand.
Joey: What business do you have with my hand?
Man behind desk: Shut up imbecile and listen, and listen good. Allegri wants your head and we are here to ensure he collects one way or another.
Allegri? Joey’s mind exploded into a billion possibilities, no no no. He pictured his fiancée’s face smiling at him in bed this morning, stroking his hair and coping with him asking for more coffee’s than he deserved. How stupid, it’s a coincidence. He was sure…he was...
Joey: Allegory wants Flashy head? Howsh he gonna collect? One way or another seems pretty suspicious to me! Alsho, I’m not an imbe…imbec…haha…imbechile.
Man behind desk: Enough! Unless you want to be ended, then I suggest you stop this foolishness.
Joey: Hmmm. I don’t mean no dishreshpect boss, I will go now, just leave me be Okay?!?!
The man behind the desk stared at the man he thought was Flash. Who the fuck is he, barf stains, like a fucking tramp. He was having second thoughts.
Man behind the desk: Shut the fuck up.
He turned to the two men behind him.
Man behind the desk: Make sure this fool says nothing. Nothing. I will take responsibility for this.
Man on the left: A fucking picture would have helped.
Man on the right: Hmm.
The man behind the desk turns back to Flash and smiles at him softly. Flash giggles back. The man then walks over to him and pulls Flash’s face to his.
Man: I don’t know who you are, but you have pissed me off you tramp. Flash must be going soft letting scum like you in his joint. You came for the booze, but will be leaving within an inch of your life, how ironic.
Joey: Whatshh an inch of you life? A drink?
The man pushes Joey’s head to the floor, before within an instant the two enforcers were on top of him. One was kicking the body, steel toe caps. The other held Joey’s head up by the hair, and crushed his face back into the floor before stomping down on the back of his head. When he picked his head back up, his lip was heavily cut. A short kick to the face was enough to see off Joey’s nose as well, his proboscis wasn’t having the best of times lately. The one who was working his body let up, a little respite. Like hell. He now had a ball bat and was acting like Barry Bonds giving it to Joey’s ribs. He felt at least one crack. Out of the corner of his severely swollen eye he saw the leader smirking, almost laughing. He threw up again, blood this time.
Leader: Enough!
The two enforcers instantly halt what they were doing and go to stand with the leader. Who slowly walks over to Flash’s broken, bleeding body.
Leader: You speak nothing of this. If a word of what happened today comes out of your scumbag mouth, it will be all over for you and everything you hold dear. Got it? Nod.
Flash nods multiple times and groans. The leader kicks him once more before turning to walk. Joey keeps a close eye on them, whilst rolling and groaning. They got in the lift. Joey drags himself over to his desk and onto his chair, leaving a trail of blood. He wipes the blood from his hands onto his trousers. Pressing his hand onto the underside of his desk. With a confirmation beep, he wrenches open the top drawer of his desk. He jams his hand on all the controls within hoping to hit the button…Suddenly, everything in La Societa became dead, all the computers, lights and importantly the lifts were out. Joey reaches into his second draw, pulling out a 9mm Glock. He presses another button on the control pad that reactivates everything in the club. He then presses down on another button, which halts the lift only.
He looks up at the monitors in his room, and flicks the remote so all screens show the lift. Panic. Joey smiles and finds the mic on his desk. Pressing another button for the speakers.
Joey: Well, hello gentlemen. What a lovely morning for it.
The monitor shows them arguing amongst themselves and looking around in fear.
Joey: Fear is good isn’t it. When the realisation that you are in the eyes of a real predator hits you. When the realisation you fucked up hits. When you know that how much you want to struggle, how much you want to fight against it, your life is about to come to an end. If it’s any comfort, you will get off lightly in comparison to this Allegri who you so kindly betrayed, maybe i will put a good word for you in before i get rid of them. I quite enjoyed the little tough man show you put on, I found myself almost willing you to go all the way. Alas, it was not to be so gentlemen, start your engines.
Joey clicks another button on the control pad and lowers the mic. The lift begins to move. Back to the top.
Leader: What the fuck is this? What are you trying to pull Flash, where the fuck are you, you pussy?
Enforcer #1: Oh Jesus Christ…..
Enforcer #2: Holy Mary, mother of God….
*Ping*. The elevator doors open. That fucking tramp again…oh shit….
Joey: Hello and goodbye, boys…
Bang...bang......bang.
END!
The match came to him in spots between the blackouts. It was the middle of the night and Joey Flash was sat alone in his La Societa office, he was in pitch blackness. Joey had found himself very sensitive to light the past couple of days, his head throbbed and his short term memory was shot to shit. Earlier this morning he even shouted and screamed at Alessandra for not making him his coffee before looking down at the table to find it already half drunk in front of him. He knew he had a concussion, or worse, but was hardly going to shout from the rooftops ‘HEY NEXT OPPONENT, JUST HIT ME IN THE FUCKING HEAD’ so he decided to just keep it as quiet as possible. Lots of little naps and wandering the streets in shades, it was worth the funny looks of a man tottering the icy streets at night wearing sunglasses.
He massaged his temples as he slumped over his desk. He saw flashes of Occulo stood above him, smile on his face once more, then of him with the last little burst of strength, hunger and spirit left inside him reaching out to grab the first thing he could, it was mere luck it was Occulo’s arm. The fates smiled on him greatly. The arm of fate, Joey laughed; it was the closest he had ever come to defeat but fuck was it worth it.
The rush the match gave him was second to none, to start as untouchable as Neo and end up nigh on at the mercy of your opponent only to somehow stop that last bullet and remember you are the one after all. Joey gazed at the Television title sat on his desk, if things had gone just a slightly bit any other way it would be Joey in the hospital and no shining trophy of his worth sat waiting for him when he got home, only pain and suffering. As it stood, Joey Flash was still undefeated, he was still the champion and he had beaten his fiercest rival, snapping his arm in the process.
Joey reached under his desk and grabbed a half empty bottle of whiskey and poured it over the ice in his glass, he stirred it with his index finger and took a sip. It was an interesting feeling for Joey; he didn’t know what to think, what to feel or what to do next. What would Ahab have done if he had felled the whale? Would he have sailed for the rest of his life in happiness and contentment? He didn’t think so. He would feel exactly how Joey was feeling right now, emptiness, sadness and a feeling like nothing else will conquer the feeling of the hunt you just had.
Unlike Ahab, Joey had to venture back into the ocean the very next week and face his quarry again. Joey had hoped this match would have helped push him to a next level both physically and mentally, if anything it had done the exact fucking opposite. He stood up and took another sip of his drink, staring further at his title belt.
Joey: You…
He patted the belt.
Joey: You have a lot for me to thank you for. If I didn’t have you…
…if Joey didn’t have the belt, if he didn’t have the drive to have to perform every week he could see himself just slipping away and losing all his focus after Occulo, but this is a boon like no other. He would have to lace his boots regardless of his circumstances. Whether he was happy, sad, hurt or healthy Joey Flash would always be in that corner with the belt around his waist every single week. It was the clockwork of this federation, Joey couldn’t let this end, wouldn’t let this end. Sun rise, sun set, Joey see Occulo, Joey beat Occulo, Joey faces new challenger, Joey leaves champion. It was simply the way of things. Joey finished his drink and poured himself another.
He reached down next to his desk and pulled a crumpled newspaper from the trash, flicking through the back pages he found a large spread detailing the events of ONE. He placed the drink on top of the page, directly on top of the picture of him catching Occulo in Pain is Love. Joey picks his belt up and throws it over his shoulder, pointing at his drink.
Joey: Occulo…this one is for you...
He knew this much, Occulo was just as great as Joey had hoped, just as brutal, vicious and skilled in the hunt as he was. He smiled, almost moulded my own demise eh? Nah, fucker that was all your own work. Joey pushed the doors open, Occulo was done, on to the next one, back to the road again. Joey found his vision haze even further, his legs spasm under him and he collapsed to the ground, he felt his head but got the feeling this was something completely different. He staggered back to his feet and collapsed into one of the plants outside his office. He stared up at the sky to see the stars dancing above him, it was then he knew, even with concussion, he had been drugged. Fuck…fuck…fuck. Then Joey fell into darkness.
Down with the sickness...(Earlier that week)
The darkness of the winter nights was growing even thicker in the cold hard north. The winds whipped a furious hate filled dance around the carriage. This single little horse drawn carriage was moving slowly along the winding track, the whistling of the wind through the surrounding forest would have caused men with the constitution of an immortal to shudder. The carriage crested a hill, meeting it on the other side was a cathedral, inch by inch it crept into view and seemed to go on forever until the carriage was fully over the hill. Stood as regally as the day it was constructed, its spires reached up to the gods in defiance of its maker’s mortality.
The door of the carriage struggled to open as a figure stepped to terra firma from within. Wrapped in thick wools and a cloak, Joey Flash emerges. He gazes up at the sheer magnificence of the architecture in front of him; he turns toward the carriage driver.
Joey: This is fucking cool as shit. Is it for sale?
The driver cackles to himself, the wind carrying it across the skies.
Driver: Ahhh, if your soul is the price, boy!
The driver whips the horse and speeds off back into the forest, his maniac laughter continues for a while after until it gets lost in the wind.
Joey: Fuck.
The oaken doors were both wide open already, welcoming to any sojourners, sinners and sickness, Joey felt right at home. He entered the cathedral, his shoes echoing a hollow clicking through the vast interior. Joey inhaled deeply through his nose; a smell like a favourite old book from a library flooded his brain and with it came safety and comfort. He walked along the aisle until reaching the end; he stood in front of the font and gazed at the stained glass, painting a shimmering picture with the beating of the rain. A man in an endless tussle with a demon, the demon wrapping its hands around the mans throat and the man thrusting a spear into the gut of the demon. The picture made Joey want to enter it, choke the man out and then chop the fucking things head off himself. He turned back to face the front of the cathedral.
Joey: Welcome one and all. We are gathered here to lay to rest the beloved John Mullins Jr. He was known to his friends as ‘Occulo’. He was ended as he lived, like a sack of shit.
Joey scans the room and shakes his head.
It seems that we are going to have a short ceremony, we invited everyone who had ever met Occulo to come and say some words about him, but it appears no one arrived…ah it must be the weather. I understand. I did get one RSVP from someone called ‘ICEMOTHAFUCKA’ who wanted to thank Occulo for the ‘bathroom break’ during the PPV, I have no idea what he means, but it would have meant a lot to Occulo for someone to remember him fondly. Well if no one is going to say a few words I guess I’m going to have to read a poem in place of them. Hah would you look at that, I happened to pick one penned by myself.
Joey clears his throat.
You fought and you clawed through life
Finding nothing but war and strife
Finally finding a reason to exist
Wrestling and ruling with an iron fist
It was sad that day you pissed off Joe
He smacked you upside the head and made you his ho
It was your turn for revenge and it was coming at one
Funny, one fuckin punch and you were gone
I know I’m not rhyming after this
But you are a worthless cunt who was summarily dispatched into the trash. Let’s get it clear, you’re a fucking beast, but I beat you, clearly, no debating. I snapped your arm and broke your spirit. Lemme tell you something though eh? My back is right here, always, I’m going to always be here, I’m always going to be the emperor here. Take whatever you need for a knife and fucking use it. I’ll be waiting. Et tu Brute.
Joey removes his coat revealing a ‘SPOILER ALERT: J
But let’s get down to business at hand. Time doesn’t stop for me just because I won a match, nah I’m straight back down to my shit again.
Joey points to the ornate stained glass of the man and the demon in combat behind him.
I came here to remember Occulo, but I’ve been inspired. Man and his innate desire to conquer, to control and to dominate. We each battle with our demons how big or small every day, whether it’s that struggle to continue walking past the enticement of your local bar, tempting you with its delicious amber or whether it is a voice inside your head telling you ‘TORTURE AND KILL THIS POOR GUY I HAVE TIED TO A CHAIR’. So I’m musing now, how does one conquer said demon? Does one listen to the little voice inside saying ‘drink me’ or ‘SLICE HIS FUCKING EYELIDS OFF’? Or does one go deep inside themselves and tell the demon directly to his face ‘No more!’ Squaring up with something deeper and darker than your humanity could manifest and mastering it, making it yours and becoming a stronger man? A demon is always defeated by a man, by a man’s reason, emotion and inner strength, to be able to live each day happily knowing that you are in control, you are your own destiny and nothing will ever wrench your thread of fate free from its course controlled by your actions. It’s a beautiful thing, truly. I’ve even seen it a couple of times, fucking Occy did it, I mean fuck I’ve lived it, ya know? What am I getting at here, what is my point?
Seifer Black, you are a fucking pathetic gutless idiotic coward of a man.
What’s that? It’s time for another fucking weirdo, come on down Seifer you fucking idiot time to take your medicine. Have I done something wrong? What the fuck? Fucking Seth, motherfucker I am not your in house psychotherapist to help deal with the people in the federation who have failed the ‘Fit and proper to wrestle’ test. Do you want to give me a new locker room, hook me up with some nice bookcases full of shit I’m never going to read and give me a leather couch? You seem to be filtering every single one of these guys through me; do you really think this is doing them any good? How would you feel if you were the parent of a troubled child, took him by his hand and said ‘Look little Tommy, you’re going to see Doctor Flash today, he’s going to take real good care of you, just talk to him, he’ll make it all better I promise!’ Little Tommy goes into the room happy and full of hope that maybe someone will finally take their time and listen to what’s going on in his troubled head. Fifteen minutes later little Tommy leaves after getting the ever loving shit beaten out of him and getting thrown out the window. I don’t think the parents would be particularly happy, so why, why Mr Lerch? Why would the parents then return a broken, battered little Tommy back to the SAME fucking psychologist? Then his other five or so mentally challenged brothers who also get lobbed out a fucking window.
Well fine, I’ll do what I can. Hello Seifer, we haven’t crossed paths before, how are you doing? Everything going well? How’s the family? More to the point you deranged bastard what in holy fuck are you doing wrestling? You should be running a fuckin cult, Waco ass motherfucker. I don’t care what you do in your leisure time…I mean what the fuck, if you enter a new country and they ask ‘Business or Pleasure?’ you have to choose between ‘Wrestling’ or ‘The kidnapping, torture and eventual sacrificial murder of a random person with my group of retarded followers’. Do you let border control in on your plans? I bet you have to come up with some interesting lies for the bag labelled ‘Evil Cultists Starter Kit’.
I don’t even know man, how do you do that? I bet Ted Bundy and Jeffery Dahmer would take notes from the way you’re conducting yourself, taking the uppermost area of public spotlight while creeping round in the shadows like fucking Nosferatu, you’re the idol for any wannabe serial killer. I wonder if we’ll see a Showtime production called ‘Seifer’ following a mild mannered wrestler by day, killer by night. Die slow.
I’m not facing the killer by night, I’m not facing the fanatic, I’m not facing the doomsday prophet and I’m not facing the demon, I’m facing the man. The demon is great, he lives and he succeeds, he does everything he wants and conquers all in front of him, the man called Seifer Black is a non-entity, you are nothing. Your biggest highlights are in the highlights of those that have beaten you. Let me ask you a serious question, how much more failure does it take before you just walk away? You’ve lost every single big opportunity you’ve ever had here. You may have picked a couple of trinkets up by sheer volume of your opportunities, but your skill has amounted to absolutely dick. You’re the first person that they throw in front of a new World Champion. Everyone knows what the outcome of the match is going to be, they all see the match for what it is. You’ll stand in front of them and you’ll be a live body for them to wrestle against for ten minutes before you crumble and fall. You are the rich mans jobber here my man. You’re like the fine caviar served up on the plate to any champion who has just been crowned. ‘Welcome to the top, now here’s your champagne and your snack’. You get chewed and digested then you disappear for a while only to repeat the cycle ad naseum.
Well here you are Seifer, you’re on my plate now, what do you think I’m going to do to you? What do you think is going to happen here? You gonna just do Joey Flash like the chump you think he is and take his title, maybe it’ll give you another shot at one of the more respected champions, that will work. Problems are aplenty with this plan though motherfucker, I don’t even know where to begin. This is going to be tragic on so many levels. You’ve gone toe to toe with every top star in this federation, you’ve fought each of the past world champions with all your heart and passion and damn you nearly pulled it off. See what you, what no one here seems to understand yet, is that this, THIS...is it.
Joey begins walking down the aisle and heading toward the exit.
You fought Beckman, you fought Orbit? So fucking what, both these faggots soft. I’m going to show you first hand the type of transcendence you are in the ring with this Sunday. It makes me laugh to be honest, I get shoved to the middle of the card and told ‘You fight this man this week Joey yes yes’. Yes yes Seifer, you’ve picked the short straw this week. It’s not going to be close or competitive, it’s going to be a one sided massacre. You’ve won titles, you’ve fought the best in the federation and not one of them is going to give you the beating I’m going to lay on you. Is it the title I hold? Is it the length of time I’ve been here? You’re going to actually come in to this match thinking you have a chance, and it’s so sad I could almost cry.
Could you tell me with all honesty hand on heart you think you could beat the top 5 here? Oh what’s that, silence? So Mr Black, will you really hand on heart come in to this match thinking you can beat me? The sad thing is I think your answer will be yes. I’m telling you this now; I’m leaving it no doubt where my standing here is, I bust my ass week after week delivering nothing but ether in my promos and in that ring I’m nigh on untouchable. What do you prophesize for me this week Mr Black? You gonna fuck me up and take my title? You gonna beat this rookie and challenge Beckman again? What the billion fucking times you already tried haven’t bashed it through your skull?
I’m going to forcibly show you where your status in the WCF is, Mr Caviar. You are the next in a long line of people who think that I’m someone who is just a placeholder waiting to lose before I disappear into nothingness and quit. Try it, I double dog fucking dare you Seifer, try me. It’s going to be the most brutal beating of your career. I’m not top 5 here; I’m above that, I’m so far beyond that it will blow your mind. My title doesn’t make me, I am not a gateway, I am a constant. I fight you faggots who are floating about in midcard obscurity and I put you straight back down to the bottom for having the temerity to think you can use me to bridge a gap to bigger and better things. There’s nothing bigger, there’s nothing better, everyone I’ve thrashed so far will be able to say in a year…in six months…fuck in three months that they lost to the best wrestler they’ve ever witnessed, Z-Mac and Occy will be beating my door down to autograph the picture of me whupping their asses. I’ll give you one free of charge Seify baby.
It’s not like I’m trying to make a stand here, I’m not calling anyone out and I’m not pushing my weight around with false bravado. I’m just speaking the truth, which a lot of you seem truly blind to. I’m speaking directly to every other champion this company has…where the fuck is your pride?
Joey exits the church and is immediately soaked through with the battering rain. He sits down on the steps, rainfall serving as a cascading chorus of serenity behind his words.
I’m over a month into this place and everything I’ve seen from you fuckers has been nothing but pathetic. You show no passion, no drive and no courage. I defend my belt week after week, I win and I win, but I show out and show off every single time. I elevate the belt, I elevate the company and fuck as much of a beating I put on my opponents, they get that Joey Flash bump of getting to fight me. You fucking guys are absent half the time and in non-title matches the other half. Man the fuck up.
Our hallowed World Champ defends his belt maybe once a month, motherfucker what are you doing? You’re a confident guy; you think you will win every match you’re in? Shit if your confidence was as high as your stand-up comedy is cringeworthy you’d be out there every week with the belt on the line, but no not you. You’ve paid your dues, so that allows you the courtesy of being a fucking pussy apparently. Fucking all of ya’ll. I don’t know what to say to get through to you. We even had a match between the World Champ and the US Champ with NO FUCKING BELT ON THE LINE. What are you people? Man the fuck up.
This isn’t anything you cocksuckers will acknowledge or talk about. ‘Oh that runt no one cares about called us chicken shit’ yeah, that’s lovely. I’m here, my belt is on the line every time I fight, and the least that could be expected of any of you is the same. I guess you’ve all gotten soft and weak in your longevity here, well that ain’t happening here, if I’m ever in the ring with another titlist my belt is going to be on the line, simple, I’m the one taking on all comers. I’m the ones shielding you cunts from people not worthy of your belts, all the while knowing I could rip your belts from each of you without as much as a second thought. The Television champion is here, and he will remain here for a long time yet, fuck you all. I’ll do my job so you don’t have to.
Joey stands up and stares up at the rain, strings of his hair glued to his face by the rain.
For now Seifer, just take each day as it comes; say your goodbyes because Sunday is upon you soon. Let me analyse the evidence we have gathered thus far before coming to a conclusion.
Exhibit A) Seifer Black is an excellent wrestler; he displays competence, skill and understanding in many styles and talents needed to succeed in the wrestling business. However Seifer Black when fighting the top tier of the WCF ends up on the losing end giving a creditable and valiant performance.
Exhibit B) Joey Flash has beat the fuck out of every single person who has shared a ring with him.
When regarding this evidence and on further review it is the prophecy of The Poonsday Prophet, yeah Bobby you like that shit don’t you? The Poonsday Prophet Joey Flash that Seifer Black is going to get his teeth kicked down his throat, get beaten up and humiliated, Joey Flash will AGAIN be Television champion and the world will continue as is. Good game well played.
Bodybags on deck.
Resume/Ignore: (03/01/15) late morning...
…Joey awoke. “Where the hell am I?” His head was groggy, as he found out was also the case with his body when he tried to stand up. He crumpled to the floor in a heap and threw up, chunks of sick getting caught in the tips of his hair. Only after this, did he realise he was sat on a toilet, he must have dragged his body here unconsciously, or maybe conscious but fuck if he could remember. He spat the rest of the sick out of his mouth and punched open the toilet door. He was in La Societa stll. He made his way out to the dance floors without cleaning himself up. It looked to be late in the morning. With a yawn he staggered to the lift, no bouncers? Joey slapped himself in the face several times to wake up, punching himself in the gut for measure. Again, sick. He got in the lift and had it take him to the top floor, his office. Again, no bouncer. Joey was starting to get anxious; the alcohol sweats that had already started were worsened. He cautiously exited the lift and walked, crouched through the shrubbery encircling his office. He checked his pockets for a gun, a knife, anything. To no avail. Joey edged closer to his office, luckily he had two way glass, a good decision. He peered into the office and saw three people, one in his chair and two people flanking him behind. He sat and thought for a minute, should he run? He slapped himself again for being so stupid. “Let’s try them”. Joey stood up and checked himself up and down, the appearance will be beneficial. He walked towards the doors and pushed.
Joey staggered, and fell through the doors.
Man behind desk: Joey Flash, I presume?
Joey tried to stand, but stumbled again.
Joey: Exschusse me?
Man behind desk: We’ve been waiting for you.
Joey: Huhhh? You gots me a preshennt? Hehehe
The two men behind the desk exchange glances.
Man behind desk: You could say that.
Joey: Wowee, what you got?
Man behind desk: Listen up Flash, I don’t wish to continue this further idiotic discussion, now let’s get to the business at hand.
Joey: What business do you have with my hand?
Man behind desk: Shut up imbecile and listen, and listen good. Allegri wants your head and we are here to ensure he collects one way or another.
Allegri? Joey’s mind exploded into a billion possibilities, no no no. He pictured his fiancée’s face smiling at him in bed this morning, stroking his hair and coping with him asking for more coffee’s than he deserved. How stupid, it’s a coincidence. He was sure…he was...
Joey: Allegory wants Flashy head? Howsh he gonna collect? One way or another seems pretty suspicious to me! Alsho, I’m not an imbe…imbec…haha…imbechile.
Man behind desk: Enough! Unless you want to be ended, then I suggest you stop this foolishness.
Joey: Hmmm. I don’t mean no dishreshpect boss, I will go now, just leave me be Okay?!?!
The man behind the desk stared at the man he thought was Flash. Who the fuck is he, barf stains, like a fucking tramp. He was having second thoughts.
Man behind the desk: Shut the fuck up.
He turned to the two men behind him.
Man behind the desk: Make sure this fool says nothing. Nothing. I will take responsibility for this.
Man on the left: A fucking picture would have helped.
Man on the right: Hmm.
The man behind the desk turns back to Flash and smiles at him softly. Flash giggles back. The man then walks over to him and pulls Flash’s face to his.
Man: I don’t know who you are, but you have pissed me off you tramp. Flash must be going soft letting scum like you in his joint. You came for the booze, but will be leaving within an inch of your life, how ironic.
Joey: Whatshh an inch of you life? A drink?
The man pushes Joey’s head to the floor, before within an instant the two enforcers were on top of him. One was kicking the body, steel toe caps. The other held Joey’s head up by the hair, and crushed his face back into the floor before stomping down on the back of his head. When he picked his head back up, his lip was heavily cut. A short kick to the face was enough to see off Joey’s nose as well, his proboscis wasn’t having the best of times lately. The one who was working his body let up, a little respite. Like hell. He now had a ball bat and was acting like Barry Bonds giving it to Joey’s ribs. He felt at least one crack. Out of the corner of his severely swollen eye he saw the leader smirking, almost laughing. He threw up again, blood this time.
Leader: Enough!
The two enforcers instantly halt what they were doing and go to stand with the leader. Who slowly walks over to Flash’s broken, bleeding body.
Leader: You speak nothing of this. If a word of what happened today comes out of your scumbag mouth, it will be all over for you and everything you hold dear. Got it? Nod.
Flash nods multiple times and groans. The leader kicks him once more before turning to walk. Joey keeps a close eye on them, whilst rolling and groaning. They got in the lift. Joey drags himself over to his desk and onto his chair, leaving a trail of blood. He wipes the blood from his hands onto his trousers. Pressing his hand onto the underside of his desk. With a confirmation beep, he wrenches open the top drawer of his desk. He jams his hand on all the controls within hoping to hit the button…Suddenly, everything in La Societa became dead, all the computers, lights and importantly the lifts were out. Joey reaches into his second draw, pulling out a 9mm Glock. He presses another button on the control pad that reactivates everything in the club. He then presses down on another button, which halts the lift only.
He looks up at the monitors in his room, and flicks the remote so all screens show the lift. Panic. Joey smiles and finds the mic on his desk. Pressing another button for the speakers.
Joey: Well, hello gentlemen. What a lovely morning for it.
The monitor shows them arguing amongst themselves and looking around in fear.
Joey: Fear is good isn’t it. When the realisation that you are in the eyes of a real predator hits you. When the realisation you fucked up hits. When you know that how much you want to struggle, how much you want to fight against it, your life is about to come to an end. If it’s any comfort, you will get off lightly in comparison to this Allegri who you so kindly betrayed, maybe i will put a good word for you in before i get rid of them. I quite enjoyed the little tough man show you put on, I found myself almost willing you to go all the way. Alas, it was not to be so gentlemen, start your engines.
Joey clicks another button on the control pad and lowers the mic. The lift begins to move. Back to the top.
Leader: What the fuck is this? What are you trying to pull Flash, where the fuck are you, you pussy?
Enforcer #1: Oh Jesus Christ…..
Enforcer #2: Holy Mary, mother of God….
*Ping*. The elevator doors open. That fucking tramp again…oh shit….
Joey: Hello and goodbye, boys…
Bang...bang......bang.
END!
