The killer in me is the killer in you...
Jun 12, 2015 8:37:30 GMT -5
Oblivion, Night Rider, and 7 more like this
Post by Joey Flash on Jun 12, 2015 8:37:30 GMT -5
Hard time blues
The withering crack of leather on leather rang through the small training room followed in rapid succession by a second, third and a fourth to punctuate the combination. Joey Flash stepped back from the bag and circled in one step to his left before firing one last left hook with a thud into the maroon heavy bag with such force it sent the sweat that had been perspiring on the surface of his arm to fly across and splatter the bag. With a deep breath Joey took a step back and removed his left glove, then his right and threw them at the base of the bag. He sagged forward and rested his sweat covered brow against the rugged raggedy leather.
Two weeks without action was two weeks too long for his competitive spirit, he has being going stir crazy to the point of erecting this mini-gym in the basement of his and Alessandra’s home. The debate about whether the basement was to be a wine cellar or a gym was arduously resolved in the male of the households favour when he made the foolish promise of having to take her out to dinner once a week, he was not happy at the hammering both his spare time and most importantly his wallet would take for such occasions. That said, a cheap set of bags, machines and weights are hardly even a hundredth of what a wine cellar would eventually tot up to especially given his fiancée’s opulent needs, Joey was all for sharing a good bottle of red but he drew the line at anything that cost more than a car.
He hit the bag with another weak short left hook and smiled, his fists ached for the crack of bone and his mind ached for the tearing of muscle and the joy he got from seeing the pain on an opponent’s face. The Trios Cup had been an interesting time for Flash; he had gotten to know his team mates so much better. He had been laying all the groundwork, he had gotten into their heads and most importantly he had gotten control. Whatever it was that was making Kaz act like such a fool he quickly made sure to quash, can’t have your soldiers getting cold feet before you send em over the trenches can you Joseph?
Though the biggest work had been his investment into Natural ICE Beckman, he had probed and he had chiselled the man to be his perfect puppet, perfect to a flaw, no, puppet to a flaw. The man was so stupid and so witless he let himself be defeated for the World Title making all of Joey’s hard work for nothing. That night in Mexico was everything Imperium could never have imagined in their worst nightmares, two titles lost, zero wins. The only ones to leave with their heads held high were the ones who were banned from competition. Kaz was forgivable, he was easy enough to manipulate and control, but Beckman…something had to be done.
If there was one thing Joey Flash didn’t tolerate it was weakness, his greatest pawn had in one night become his biggest problem, and how do you solve a problem called ICE Beckman? There were lots of solutions and outcomes from this, but none of them ever ran through the mind of Joey Flash, you simply make the problem…disappear.
He had left it in the fat man’s hands for now, he would rally the troops well enough, the speech is already written for you now just orate it you fucking pig and all will be well. This could light a fire under everyone and be the galvanising agent he had been looking for to get Imperium back on track, everything starts anew on Slam. Wrongs will be righted and everything will bend to Joey’s will.
He took a step back and picked the gloves from the floor once more; flexing his hands in the clammy familiarity he assumed his fighting stance and began circling firing jabs at the bag. He would be starting anew with a foe of old; this would be a good challenge to get back into the swing.
Oblivion.
He fired a one-two and rolled to the left.
Oblivion.
A feint with the left jab before turning it into a hook.
Oblivion.
A second, a third left hook.
Oblivion.
He took one step to his right and set his feet for a powerful straight right hand, twisting his hips with the motion that jarred the bag so much the hinges holding it to the roof shuddered, for this punch however he could only picture one face, and he could only think of one name.
Dune.
Disarm you with a smile
Alessandra Allegri was feeling neglected. It had been hell at home without Joseph, his ridiculous gallivanting around Mexico to feed his competitive ego had almost made her want to ‘accidentally’ break all of his boxing and wrestling memorabilia in a fit of controlled rage…then blame their son for it. As welcome as his return was, and the fact she managed to bribe him into taking her for dinner (explicitly no McDonalds) for the simple request of having a mini-gym in the basement she originally thought was every bit a bounty but after having to put up with the thudding with that ridiculous bag for the past few days she was beginning to regret the decision. Thud thud thud, it was akin to Chinese Water Torture, Italian Boxing Torture.
It was fine at first, her testosterone filled drone of a love needed to let off some steam and aggression but he could surely manage his energy more efficiently. He had a beautiful woman in a negligee sat in his kitchen practically begging to be fucked and yet all he was interested in was that damned bag. With a sigh she turned from the kitchen and padded upstairs, apparently having their son at his first day of a toddler group wasn’t enough to entice the man to action.
She had found ‘Rainbows Toddler Club’ thoroughly recommended by the idiot woman who did her hair last week. The one thing Alessandra despised about the United States the most? Well mostly obesity and the horrific stupidity that ran rife, but a close second was the terrible hair. She had emerged with two things from that encounter, a scarf wrapped round her newly terrible matte of previously silken beauty and the information on a reputable group to send Christian once a week for ‘fun and friends’. When she had tried to described it to Joseph his response was simply “He’s three years old, what the fuck is he going to do with friends?” Joseph’s ignorance was quickly ignored and she had taxi’d the little Maliganngi/Allegri to his abode for the day. The little boy was reticent and scared to begin with even going so far as to cling to her legs before she managed to whisper enough niceties into his ear that he was convinced to toddle away to the blonde woman waiting at the door with a smile and a box of juice.
The negligee was deposited beside their bed and she replaced the nightwear with some less seductive grey yoga pants and a black sweatshirt, oh what a fashionista you are darling. As she was pottering back downstairs a buzz rang from the front door. Alessandra pressed the button and on the other end of the telecom her newly appointed security guard spoke somewhat panicked.
Guard: Miss Allegri?
Alessandra: How discerning. Yes?
Guard: There is a woman here, she has Christian.
Alessandra: She ‘has’ Christian?
Guard: May I let her up?
Alessandra: Yes yes, what are you waiting for?
She opened the door in anticipation and waited. Well, it’s a good job her fiancée had as much sexual drive right now as a ready salted slug or they would have been interrupted mid coitus anyway. So much for that, how kind for the woman to be bringing him home though, maybe America wasn’t so bad after all. She saw the woman approach, Christian walking slowly behind her with his head down. It was the blonde woman from before with the smile and the juicebox, her demeanour was completely different now and her once smiling warm face was replaced by a stern smouldering.
Woman: You’re his mother?
Alessandra was taken aback by her tone.
Alessandra: Yes.
The woman grabbed Christian and pushed him toward Alessandra.
Woman: We’ll be keeping the fee you paid us, and you can keep the little monster away.
The little boy with the wild mop of raven hair toddled toward his mother, she swooped him up into her arms and stared a hole straight through the woman. Christian was shaking; the little tremors of his body made her stomach churn.
Alessandra: What did you do to him?
Woman: This little demon put two of our children into hospital today. Whatever…
She looks at the mansion and its gardens.
Woman: …privileges you’re giving this beast, I suggest you restrict them immediately, not that I expect you’re doing your job as a mother well given what…what that thing is.
At this point Alessandra felt her blood run cold, in all her life she had never had someone who didn’t share her surname speak to her in such a manner, no that didn’t bother her so much. That this bitch would dare speak of her child in such a way…if the boy wasn’t in her arms shivering in fright she would have snuffed the light out of blondie right here.
Alessandra: His name is Christian, he is not a thing.
The woman laughed.
Woman: If you had any idea what that thing did, you’d be singing a different tune lady. Just…just keep him away.
Alessandra lowered her child and whispered to him ‘go inside’. He abided, Alessandra stepped out of the house and closed the door behind her. Now there was no scared child in her arms.
Alessandra: You need to watch your tongue.
Woman: I beg your pardon?
Alessandra: You heard perfectly clear.
She took a step toward the woman.
Alessandra: I saw the way you grabbed him then, you can apologise for that.
Woman: No, you need to u-
Alessandra: No, you need to understand.
Alessandra grabbed the woman by the collar.
Alessandra: Do you feel intimidated, do you feel scared? Now what would you feel if I were three times your size? I ever so much as see your face again I’m going to fucking bury you bitch. That’s a promise. I will deal with my child, you will go home. Now.
The woman looked petrified in front of Alessandra, turned and walked as fast as her legs could carry her down the long winding driveway. Alessandra took a deep breath and turned to push the doorway open.
“This little demon put two of our children into hospital today”
Was this really what her son had done? What happened today? She would stroke him and cuddle him and get answers, then she would quash all the worries and all the fears he had. He was everything in this world; he was the heir to the throne. She entered to a sight she didn’t want to see, he had gotten to Christian first. Sat on the floor with their son in his arms was Joey Flash, holding Christian tightly against his chest.
This could be troublesome.
Red Crayon
Joey Flash and Alessandra Allegri sat either side of young Christian Malignaggi on their living room sofa, the child was three years old. In his short life he had seen more, experienced more than Joey would wish on anyone. He stroked the jet black hair from the side of the boy’s face and looked down at him with one thought in his mind ‘I want to protect you’. All hubris and ambition was from his mind at this point and the only thing that mattered to him was this life and this future in front of him.
Joey: How’s it going champ?
The boy didn’t even look at him, and certainly didn’t respond. Joey and Alessandra shared a glance.
Joey: Come on Christian, hey, look at me.
He raised the boys chin to look at him but even now Christian was avoiding eye contact. At three years old Christian Malignaggi seemed to preternaturally understand how to cope with interrogation.
Joey: We aren’t going to shout and we’re not going to get angry okay?
The boy didn’t respond.
Alessandra: What daddy means is we love you more than anything, and just want to cheer you up, wouldn’t telling us what happened today cheer you up?
Christian: No.
Joey: Come on champ, look I’ll make you a deal-
Alessandra: Joseph…
Joey: If you tell us, we can have McDonalds.
He felt the daggers through his spine from Alessandra the second he offered a reward for just telling the truth. But he couldn’t stand this any longer.
Christian: I didn’t mean to.
Joey: Didn’t mean to what?
Christian: They took my red crayon it’s my favourite colour.
Joey: So you…
Christian: I got my crayon back daddy, look!
He rummaged in his pocket and produced the crayon with a smile.
Alessandra: Good boy, those mean thugs.
Joey: Al, stop.
Alessandra: Don’t tell me to stop.
Joey: Christian, what did you do?
Alessandra: It’s okay son, you can go to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.
Joey: No it’s not fucking-
Alessandra: Language.
Joey: It’s not okay.
By the time Joey could react Christian was already toddling off up the stairs, Joey thought about pursuing him for a moment before rounding on Alessandra.
Joey: What the fuck was that?
Alessandra: What?
Joey: You, all ‘oh do what you want’. Don’t you fuckin undermine me like that again.
Alessandra: Or what? You’ll punch your bag some more? He’s growing up.
Joey: Growing up?! He is three fucking years old.
Alessandra: He handled today in the way he should, you heard him, some boys took his red crayon and he dealt with it. I’m going to read to him, you’ve made him feel bad I hope you’re happy.
With that Alessandra left the room and left Joey alone in the living room. From drama at work to drama at home it never seemed to stop for him, this though, this was one of the most distressing of situations he had experienced so far. Joey stood up, he might as well go and join Alessandra upstairs, what good is us being divided now? Even if it’s wrong he had to support Alessandra here. He ran a hand through his hair and stared down the hallway connecting the front door to the kitchen, on a table in the hall there was a single light blinking, the phone.
Joey approached and looked as it displayed ‘Messages: 1’. He hit the play button.
Automated Voice: You have one message…first message.
Woman’s voice: Miss Allegri? Please answer….fine. I am phoning you to tell you that your son has been removed from our preschool program…and…and…do you know what type of demon you’re raising here? Your son repeatedly hit another boy over the head with a large rock in the play area and almost choked another boy to death with his hands because they had a crayon he wanted and they wouldn't let him steal it. You need to get that boy psychologically evaluated, or maybe just removed from whatever you’re doing to him…I might have to get in touch with social services…I don’t know. I’m bringing him home to you.
Click.
This was a bodyblow to Joey’s very soul. He took each step upstairs like he was walking to meet a headsman at the top, his feet felt like they were cased in concrete. He is three years old…
Joey tiptoed to Christian’s room, inside he heard Alessandra’s voice speaking to their son.
Alessandra: …worry about a thing. You are showing your birth right, these other children are yours to use how you will, I love you forever my angel. Go to sleep.
Joey pushed the door open to see Alessandra kissing Christian on the forehead. Joey felt himself choke back tears, anger and fear in one breath. This was not how things were meant to be. This child was going to be his salvation, his saviour. The one thing in this world that he had ever produced that was true, pure and righteous.
Who was he kidding; Christian was doomed from the fucking start. He has a psychopathic homicidal manipulative and controlling mother…and the same fucking thing for a father. You never had a chance. He began to cry as he stared inside the room. You are the son of Alessandra Allegri…and the son of Joseph fucking Flash. You never had a chance.
The killer in me is the killer in you.
Orange Moon Over Brooklyn
Joey Flash is stood on the roof of his club La Societa staring at the skies. A pale crimson hue is covering the bright moonlight; half of Joey’s face is caught in the light as he turns.
Joey: So this is what you people want is it?
Joey stares at the moon once more.
Joey: Right now I should be preparing for a World Title match; I should be face to face with Dune and be just two weeks away from ripping the title away from him. These DRG faggots get everything handed to them on a sliver fucking platter and for what? Talent? Hard work? Nope. Simply cos they’re lacking a fuckin gag reflex. You guys won Trios, but guess what? No one cares. You’re that chapter in a bestselling book everyone skips, you’re that episode in a series everyone tells their friends ‘Just get past this and it will get good’. I’m not going to waste my time with no marks like you guys, but there’s someone in the federation who has unfortunately earned my ire, and it’s going to cost him everything his has.
Dune.
I know you’ll kill Gonzo, it won’t be close and it won’t be fair how badly this beating is going to go. Fuck…it’ll be worse than how you killed ICE.
Joey smiles
Joey: I’ve called you out twice already and there’s been so much silence the crickets are getting tired and tumbleweeds are feeling lonely. You’re everything every coward champion before you was, here’s me thinking you’d be something different. Fool me once eh? Every Slam is open for a match between us, but no ‘I have Blast’ ‘I have Ultimate Showdown’. How about ‘I have no fucking pride’, that would be a PPV featuring only Dune. Enjoy your match against Gonzo that no one fucking cares about. I’m sure your dead retarded fuckin brother will cheering you on like the faggot he is for that one ya fuckin ugly cuntflap.
Joey turns toward the camera.
Joey: But me and Dune is never going to happen is it? Same way I called out Scarecrow all week, that poor bastard was waiting and waiting to get his chance at facing the god and what did he get? Fucking nothing, well tough luck Scarecrow, see ya in the next life. You were saved from a massacre try not to be so torn up eh? Fuck boy.
So, rather than dwell on failed call outs I wander about to see what fans want. The overwhelming majority are shouting Flash vs Fly, Flash vs Fly, Flash vs Fly. I had to smack these fuckin idiots down and tell them shit is never gonna happen. The dream WCF match is never going to happen, we have one party willing and one party not, this would be rape in any other circumstance. Fuck, this would be a one sided rape in the ring, so we don’t even need this shit. Step ya life game up Jonny.
What do we have left for Joey Flash, what amazing matchup will this great champion, this living legend, this future G.O.A.T have this week, will it be something befitting of his two week absence? The WCF fans have been waiting for Joey Flash to get back into the ring and to see the legend grow, to see if the skill they remember is just a dream or a memory. It’s all memory motherfuckers, and roll the drum…
It’s Oblivion. Wow. I act tough and I act full of confidence but what really do I have to offer here? The guy had more experience than me, more titles than me, more size, more strength…what do I have? Speed? Technique? No, what I have Oblivion…
He taps his temple.
Joey: Is this. The record books tell a completely different story from reality don’t they? It never dawned on me until this match was announced, until Joey Flash was going to be facing Oblivion once more. Our official record reads Joey Flash 1-1 Oblivion.
Wow.
Fucking wow. Do you understand what that means? It means Obi, you are even with you Joey Flash. You are equal with the best wrestler in the world. Wanna know a record that baffles even more minds? Grime 1-0 Joey Flash. Will you get that shit? It’s amazing isn’t it? But wait, but wait, it gets even more ridiculous, it gets ridiculous to the point of fucking parody, ya ready for this shit? Joey Flash has four times, once to Oblivion and Reb, once to Grime…but this, this is the most ridiculous part. Lord above, you’re listening to this because of how much of a joke it is, right?
Joey Flash 0-2 Thomas Uriel Bates. This is the most ridiculous record in any record book ever. Thomas, ya fuckin faggot, your head has blown up the size of the fuckin planet by now. You have such a sense of pathetic entitlement it’s sickening. You fucking suck. Real talk, look I’m using no metaphors, no similes, I’m telling you how your big fat head can understand, and you are fucking terrible. Literally bottom tier terrible, not even worth a fucking thought. Every “victory” has an asterisk, fight me straight up, one on one and see what happens. See your world crumble around you, see the world’s strongest man reduced to a squirming slug in the face of greatness.
These people man, you folks don’t understand, you don’t understand the level of cowardice. Ya think Joey Flash is a coward? Next Slam Seth, myself and Scarecrow in a singles match, no shitty stipulations, straight up wrestling. That’s how it goes, I ain’t ducking shit, I want this fight as I want any true contest in this federation. I’m sick of waiting for ‘A PPV’ with these fucking matches, I want to fight you Crow, you want to fight me. Begall us if it actually happens. I ask for nothing from you but a fucking challenge. I’ve lost one singles match in my entire career and it’s the worst loss anyone could have ever experienced. Fuck if I’m ever losing this sorta shit again. Earlier in my career you would have doubted my words, now? Fucking bring it faggots. I will crush you all.
Joey shakes his head.
Joey: Hello Oblivion, I forgot about you for a second, how are you feeling? You feeling confident here? Oblivion holds an even record with Joey Flash that’s more than almost any other wrestler in the world can bring forward. You’ve done well. See there’s a big problem with your record over me, and with your record as a whole. Joey Flash and Reginald Dampshaw III vs Oblivion and Reb? Fuck the hype, I’m better than both of you faggots put together, if it was Joey Flash alone vs the Chrono Rippers I’d have ripped you to shreds but unfortunately I had to watch as that crumpet eating faggot got wrecked by you gimps.
One on one though?
Joey Flash vs Oblivion is a one sided dominant victory by yours truly, I beat you so badly it made you have to reassess ya whole damn life. This match isn’t even close, this match is a closed casket fuckin killing. For the first time what seems like months and months I finally have a one on one match, it’s like a blessing from the gods, this is my shit right here. Tag matches are all well and good, some people love that shit and live for that shit, my boys Cairo and Kaz fuckin crush that shit. But this…the feeling ya get when you take another person and destroy their world around them with your skill, that’s what I want, this shit is like heroin.
When we first met in competition I was a rookie, all wet behind the ears and shit. I was Television Champion and you the struggling former World Champion had a shot at taking out the flavour of the month, it was all set up for you to just crush this floppy haired greaseball and send him packing straight out of the federation. Betting lines were evens for this shit, but even you were unprepared for what happened in the ring, the world was unprepared for what was on show. I made a mockery of the odds and I made a mockery of you. The all-conquering power that is Oblivion was decimated and crushed by someone who is practically half his size. Since that match I have never once been the underdog in a WCF scheduled contest, this time we step into the ring I am the prohibitive favourite.
That first time we clashed you had everything to lose and I had everything to gain, this time the tables are turned and now Oblivion has everything to gain from a win here and Joey Flash has everything to lose. My record is the most untouched, unblemished thing in the whole company. No one compares. Since we fought I’ve become the standard bearer, the gold figurehead gleaming and projecting nothing but greatness, but you Oblivion? You’ve been reduced to a joke, that’s where you’re at. You are the freak in the corner everyone laughs at and jokes, nudge nudge ‘There goes that guy in the mask who used to be relevant, what’s his name again?’
Do I think you’re a joke? Absolutely fucking not.
Joey runs a hand through his hair as the wind begins picking up and sweeping across the rooftop.
Joey: You’re a gatekeeper and a custodian of the federation. You’re a needed bit part player in the midst of a Shakespearian epic, you’re the danger that lurks around each corner and the monster that is always talked of in hushed tones, so why Oblivion are you so intent in fucking that up? You’re something that should be so much more than IT is, people speak in hushed tones fucking mocking you now. This is your chance though, you take the scalp of the golden boy and you’re right back as the monster, the killer, the fucking demon.
The problem we have here Oblivion, is what happens when one monster is happily going along his merry way slaying victims and enemies, then spots the golden child who looks so…so tasty. Fresh meat for the kill, Joey Flash so prim and so proper he looks, his record sparkles like stars in the night and you creep upon him with your fangs ready to eat this meal that the gods have so kindly thrown in your way…
Joey smiles.
Joey: Then it turns out the golden child is a monster on a completely different level to you altogether. You destroy people’s bodies whereas I rend their very mind and soul from them. This isn’t a Hammer Horror flick, this is a competitive sport. In your world of stalking the night you’re the fucking king, you’re the god of darkness but in MY world, in that squared circle that is the kingdom ruled solely by Lord Joseph fucking Flash. You step in to my realm and your life is as good as forfeit, you turn into my plaything and my toy to use how I see fit.
I’m better than you in every conceivable facet of wrestling, for every physical advantage you have I have leagues more in every technical aspect. Do you know how to cut off the ring? Do you know the correct form behind throwing a punch? Do you know how to shoot, how to sprawl? I’m the man of 2000 holds, each one could be a fuckin armbar and I’d catch you in it every fucking time because the simple fact is that you’re a mindless brute who survives on size and strength alone, but that doesn’t cut it at the level I compete at Oblivion. You can overwhelm people all well and good when they don’t know what they’re doing, but to someone who is adept to the level I am? Please. Every ambling step you take looks so slow and pathetic, I can tell from the twitch in your shoulder joint every punch you’re going to throw, the angle it’s coming and the time I have to dodge and counter. No chucky, this is fucking childsplay to me.
In the real world Oblivion, you terrify me. I have no idea what is going on in your mangled mind, I can’t even hope to understand your motives and the sick sadistic thoughts you have and the sick sadistic actions you’ve done. You make my rap sheet look like a fucking hymn book, you are the most intimidating person I’ve experienced here…but the thing is this is not a life or death match fought for survival on the street; this is a fucking wrestling match.
In this world? I terrify you.
In this world I understand you down to every movement you make and every thought you think. Let Sunday night show as long awaited example of why I am the most revered and feared wrestler in the world when I take your false confidence and sense of self-worth as wrestler and turn it into dust in front of your own eyes. Monster meets IT’s maker, for people who haven’t seen Joey Flash in singles competition you’re in for one hell of a fucking treat. This is like wrestling porn the shit I do in that ring. Oblivion you are simply here as a dummy to showcase my transcendent skill on, we could legitimately have an inflatable doll in there with me and it’d still be the same level of competition. This is like a birthday candle against a solar flare, I’m burning bright and you’re about to be snuffed the fuck out.
This fight is a mismatch of the highest proportions, it’s not a knock on Oblivion, any person facing me would be receiving the exact same treatment…though it doesn’t help Oblivion being the biggest sack of worthless shit in the entire company. There’s levels to this shit, you are bottom tier, you’re that snapz tier, Professor Coach tier, I exist on a level that is so far above your mental capacity to even understand let alone drag your body to think of matching it.
This is a massacre, this is a thorough one sided beat down, this is what happens when IT gets IT’s final fucking bodybag.
Zip him up. Enjoy ya fucking beating you bum.
The withering crack of leather on leather rang through the small training room followed in rapid succession by a second, third and a fourth to punctuate the combination. Joey Flash stepped back from the bag and circled in one step to his left before firing one last left hook with a thud into the maroon heavy bag with such force it sent the sweat that had been perspiring on the surface of his arm to fly across and splatter the bag. With a deep breath Joey took a step back and removed his left glove, then his right and threw them at the base of the bag. He sagged forward and rested his sweat covered brow against the rugged raggedy leather.
Two weeks without action was two weeks too long for his competitive spirit, he has being going stir crazy to the point of erecting this mini-gym in the basement of his and Alessandra’s home. The debate about whether the basement was to be a wine cellar or a gym was arduously resolved in the male of the households favour when he made the foolish promise of having to take her out to dinner once a week, he was not happy at the hammering both his spare time and most importantly his wallet would take for such occasions. That said, a cheap set of bags, machines and weights are hardly even a hundredth of what a wine cellar would eventually tot up to especially given his fiancée’s opulent needs, Joey was all for sharing a good bottle of red but he drew the line at anything that cost more than a car.
He hit the bag with another weak short left hook and smiled, his fists ached for the crack of bone and his mind ached for the tearing of muscle and the joy he got from seeing the pain on an opponent’s face. The Trios Cup had been an interesting time for Flash; he had gotten to know his team mates so much better. He had been laying all the groundwork, he had gotten into their heads and most importantly he had gotten control. Whatever it was that was making Kaz act like such a fool he quickly made sure to quash, can’t have your soldiers getting cold feet before you send em over the trenches can you Joseph?
Though the biggest work had been his investment into Natural ICE Beckman, he had probed and he had chiselled the man to be his perfect puppet, perfect to a flaw, no, puppet to a flaw. The man was so stupid and so witless he let himself be defeated for the World Title making all of Joey’s hard work for nothing. That night in Mexico was everything Imperium could never have imagined in their worst nightmares, two titles lost, zero wins. The only ones to leave with their heads held high were the ones who were banned from competition. Kaz was forgivable, he was easy enough to manipulate and control, but Beckman…something had to be done.
If there was one thing Joey Flash didn’t tolerate it was weakness, his greatest pawn had in one night become his biggest problem, and how do you solve a problem called ICE Beckman? There were lots of solutions and outcomes from this, but none of them ever ran through the mind of Joey Flash, you simply make the problem…disappear.
He had left it in the fat man’s hands for now, he would rally the troops well enough, the speech is already written for you now just orate it you fucking pig and all will be well. This could light a fire under everyone and be the galvanising agent he had been looking for to get Imperium back on track, everything starts anew on Slam. Wrongs will be righted and everything will bend to Joey’s will.
He took a step back and picked the gloves from the floor once more; flexing his hands in the clammy familiarity he assumed his fighting stance and began circling firing jabs at the bag. He would be starting anew with a foe of old; this would be a good challenge to get back into the swing.
Oblivion.
He fired a one-two and rolled to the left.
Oblivion.
A feint with the left jab before turning it into a hook.
Oblivion.
A second, a third left hook.
Oblivion.
He took one step to his right and set his feet for a powerful straight right hand, twisting his hips with the motion that jarred the bag so much the hinges holding it to the roof shuddered, for this punch however he could only picture one face, and he could only think of one name.
Dune.
Disarm you with a smile
Alessandra Allegri was feeling neglected. It had been hell at home without Joseph, his ridiculous gallivanting around Mexico to feed his competitive ego had almost made her want to ‘accidentally’ break all of his boxing and wrestling memorabilia in a fit of controlled rage…then blame their son for it. As welcome as his return was, and the fact she managed to bribe him into taking her for dinner (explicitly no McDonalds) for the simple request of having a mini-gym in the basement she originally thought was every bit a bounty but after having to put up with the thudding with that ridiculous bag for the past few days she was beginning to regret the decision. Thud thud thud, it was akin to Chinese Water Torture, Italian Boxing Torture.
It was fine at first, her testosterone filled drone of a love needed to let off some steam and aggression but he could surely manage his energy more efficiently. He had a beautiful woman in a negligee sat in his kitchen practically begging to be fucked and yet all he was interested in was that damned bag. With a sigh she turned from the kitchen and padded upstairs, apparently having their son at his first day of a toddler group wasn’t enough to entice the man to action.
She had found ‘Rainbows Toddler Club’ thoroughly recommended by the idiot woman who did her hair last week. The one thing Alessandra despised about the United States the most? Well mostly obesity and the horrific stupidity that ran rife, but a close second was the terrible hair. She had emerged with two things from that encounter, a scarf wrapped round her newly terrible matte of previously silken beauty and the information on a reputable group to send Christian once a week for ‘fun and friends’. When she had tried to described it to Joseph his response was simply “He’s three years old, what the fuck is he going to do with friends?” Joseph’s ignorance was quickly ignored and she had taxi’d the little Maliganngi/Allegri to his abode for the day. The little boy was reticent and scared to begin with even going so far as to cling to her legs before she managed to whisper enough niceties into his ear that he was convinced to toddle away to the blonde woman waiting at the door with a smile and a box of juice.
The negligee was deposited beside their bed and she replaced the nightwear with some less seductive grey yoga pants and a black sweatshirt, oh what a fashionista you are darling. As she was pottering back downstairs a buzz rang from the front door. Alessandra pressed the button and on the other end of the telecom her newly appointed security guard spoke somewhat panicked.
Guard: Miss Allegri?
Alessandra: How discerning. Yes?
Guard: There is a woman here, she has Christian.
Alessandra: She ‘has’ Christian?
Guard: May I let her up?
Alessandra: Yes yes, what are you waiting for?
She opened the door in anticipation and waited. Well, it’s a good job her fiancée had as much sexual drive right now as a ready salted slug or they would have been interrupted mid coitus anyway. So much for that, how kind for the woman to be bringing him home though, maybe America wasn’t so bad after all. She saw the woman approach, Christian walking slowly behind her with his head down. It was the blonde woman from before with the smile and the juicebox, her demeanour was completely different now and her once smiling warm face was replaced by a stern smouldering.
Woman: You’re his mother?
Alessandra was taken aback by her tone.
Alessandra: Yes.
The woman grabbed Christian and pushed him toward Alessandra.
Woman: We’ll be keeping the fee you paid us, and you can keep the little monster away.
The little boy with the wild mop of raven hair toddled toward his mother, she swooped him up into her arms and stared a hole straight through the woman. Christian was shaking; the little tremors of his body made her stomach churn.
Alessandra: What did you do to him?
Woman: This little demon put two of our children into hospital today. Whatever…
She looks at the mansion and its gardens.
Woman: …privileges you’re giving this beast, I suggest you restrict them immediately, not that I expect you’re doing your job as a mother well given what…what that thing is.
At this point Alessandra felt her blood run cold, in all her life she had never had someone who didn’t share her surname speak to her in such a manner, no that didn’t bother her so much. That this bitch would dare speak of her child in such a way…if the boy wasn’t in her arms shivering in fright she would have snuffed the light out of blondie right here.
Alessandra: His name is Christian, he is not a thing.
The woman laughed.
Woman: If you had any idea what that thing did, you’d be singing a different tune lady. Just…just keep him away.
Alessandra lowered her child and whispered to him ‘go inside’. He abided, Alessandra stepped out of the house and closed the door behind her. Now there was no scared child in her arms.
Alessandra: You need to watch your tongue.
Woman: I beg your pardon?
Alessandra: You heard perfectly clear.
She took a step toward the woman.
Alessandra: I saw the way you grabbed him then, you can apologise for that.
Woman: No, you need to u-
Alessandra: No, you need to understand.
Alessandra grabbed the woman by the collar.
Alessandra: Do you feel intimidated, do you feel scared? Now what would you feel if I were three times your size? I ever so much as see your face again I’m going to fucking bury you bitch. That’s a promise. I will deal with my child, you will go home. Now.
The woman looked petrified in front of Alessandra, turned and walked as fast as her legs could carry her down the long winding driveway. Alessandra took a deep breath and turned to push the doorway open.
“This little demon put two of our children into hospital today”
Was this really what her son had done? What happened today? She would stroke him and cuddle him and get answers, then she would quash all the worries and all the fears he had. He was everything in this world; he was the heir to the throne. She entered to a sight she didn’t want to see, he had gotten to Christian first. Sat on the floor with their son in his arms was Joey Flash, holding Christian tightly against his chest.
This could be troublesome.
Red Crayon
Joey Flash and Alessandra Allegri sat either side of young Christian Malignaggi on their living room sofa, the child was three years old. In his short life he had seen more, experienced more than Joey would wish on anyone. He stroked the jet black hair from the side of the boy’s face and looked down at him with one thought in his mind ‘I want to protect you’. All hubris and ambition was from his mind at this point and the only thing that mattered to him was this life and this future in front of him.
Joey: How’s it going champ?
The boy didn’t even look at him, and certainly didn’t respond. Joey and Alessandra shared a glance.
Joey: Come on Christian, hey, look at me.
He raised the boys chin to look at him but even now Christian was avoiding eye contact. At three years old Christian Malignaggi seemed to preternaturally understand how to cope with interrogation.
Joey: We aren’t going to shout and we’re not going to get angry okay?
The boy didn’t respond.
Alessandra: What daddy means is we love you more than anything, and just want to cheer you up, wouldn’t telling us what happened today cheer you up?
Christian: No.
Joey: Come on champ, look I’ll make you a deal-
Alessandra: Joseph…
Joey: If you tell us, we can have McDonalds.
He felt the daggers through his spine from Alessandra the second he offered a reward for just telling the truth. But he couldn’t stand this any longer.
Christian: I didn’t mean to.
Joey: Didn’t mean to what?
Christian: They took my red crayon it’s my favourite colour.
Joey: So you…
Christian: I got my crayon back daddy, look!
He rummaged in his pocket and produced the crayon with a smile.
Alessandra: Good boy, those mean thugs.
Joey: Al, stop.
Alessandra: Don’t tell me to stop.
Joey: Christian, what did you do?
Alessandra: It’s okay son, you can go to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.
Joey: No it’s not fucking-
Alessandra: Language.
Joey: It’s not okay.
By the time Joey could react Christian was already toddling off up the stairs, Joey thought about pursuing him for a moment before rounding on Alessandra.
Joey: What the fuck was that?
Alessandra: What?
Joey: You, all ‘oh do what you want’. Don’t you fuckin undermine me like that again.
Alessandra: Or what? You’ll punch your bag some more? He’s growing up.
Joey: Growing up?! He is three fucking years old.
Alessandra: He handled today in the way he should, you heard him, some boys took his red crayon and he dealt with it. I’m going to read to him, you’ve made him feel bad I hope you’re happy.
With that Alessandra left the room and left Joey alone in the living room. From drama at work to drama at home it never seemed to stop for him, this though, this was one of the most distressing of situations he had experienced so far. Joey stood up, he might as well go and join Alessandra upstairs, what good is us being divided now? Even if it’s wrong he had to support Alessandra here. He ran a hand through his hair and stared down the hallway connecting the front door to the kitchen, on a table in the hall there was a single light blinking, the phone.
Joey approached and looked as it displayed ‘Messages: 1’. He hit the play button.
Automated Voice: You have one message…first message.
Woman’s voice: Miss Allegri? Please answer….fine. I am phoning you to tell you that your son has been removed from our preschool program…and…and…do you know what type of demon you’re raising here? Your son repeatedly hit another boy over the head with a large rock in the play area and almost choked another boy to death with his hands because they had a crayon he wanted and they wouldn't let him steal it. You need to get that boy psychologically evaluated, or maybe just removed from whatever you’re doing to him…I might have to get in touch with social services…I don’t know. I’m bringing him home to you.
Click.
This was a bodyblow to Joey’s very soul. He took each step upstairs like he was walking to meet a headsman at the top, his feet felt like they were cased in concrete. He is three years old…
Joey tiptoed to Christian’s room, inside he heard Alessandra’s voice speaking to their son.
Alessandra: …worry about a thing. You are showing your birth right, these other children are yours to use how you will, I love you forever my angel. Go to sleep.
Joey pushed the door open to see Alessandra kissing Christian on the forehead. Joey felt himself choke back tears, anger and fear in one breath. This was not how things were meant to be. This child was going to be his salvation, his saviour. The one thing in this world that he had ever produced that was true, pure and righteous.
Who was he kidding; Christian was doomed from the fucking start. He has a psychopathic homicidal manipulative and controlling mother…and the same fucking thing for a father. You never had a chance. He began to cry as he stared inside the room. You are the son of Alessandra Allegri…and the son of Joseph fucking Flash. You never had a chance.
The killer in me is the killer in you.
Orange Moon Over Brooklyn
Joey Flash is stood on the roof of his club La Societa staring at the skies. A pale crimson hue is covering the bright moonlight; half of Joey’s face is caught in the light as he turns.
Joey: So this is what you people want is it?
Joey stares at the moon once more.
Joey: Right now I should be preparing for a World Title match; I should be face to face with Dune and be just two weeks away from ripping the title away from him. These DRG faggots get everything handed to them on a sliver fucking platter and for what? Talent? Hard work? Nope. Simply cos they’re lacking a fuckin gag reflex. You guys won Trios, but guess what? No one cares. You’re that chapter in a bestselling book everyone skips, you’re that episode in a series everyone tells their friends ‘Just get past this and it will get good’. I’m not going to waste my time with no marks like you guys, but there’s someone in the federation who has unfortunately earned my ire, and it’s going to cost him everything his has.
Dune.
I know you’ll kill Gonzo, it won’t be close and it won’t be fair how badly this beating is going to go. Fuck…it’ll be worse than how you killed ICE.
Joey smiles
Joey: I’ve called you out twice already and there’s been so much silence the crickets are getting tired and tumbleweeds are feeling lonely. You’re everything every coward champion before you was, here’s me thinking you’d be something different. Fool me once eh? Every Slam is open for a match between us, but no ‘I have Blast’ ‘I have Ultimate Showdown’. How about ‘I have no fucking pride’, that would be a PPV featuring only Dune. Enjoy your match against Gonzo that no one fucking cares about. I’m sure your dead retarded fuckin brother will cheering you on like the faggot he is for that one ya fuckin ugly cuntflap.
Joey turns toward the camera.
Joey: But me and Dune is never going to happen is it? Same way I called out Scarecrow all week, that poor bastard was waiting and waiting to get his chance at facing the god and what did he get? Fucking nothing, well tough luck Scarecrow, see ya in the next life. You were saved from a massacre try not to be so torn up eh? Fuck boy.
So, rather than dwell on failed call outs I wander about to see what fans want. The overwhelming majority are shouting Flash vs Fly, Flash vs Fly, Flash vs Fly. I had to smack these fuckin idiots down and tell them shit is never gonna happen. The dream WCF match is never going to happen, we have one party willing and one party not, this would be rape in any other circumstance. Fuck, this would be a one sided rape in the ring, so we don’t even need this shit. Step ya life game up Jonny.
What do we have left for Joey Flash, what amazing matchup will this great champion, this living legend, this future G.O.A.T have this week, will it be something befitting of his two week absence? The WCF fans have been waiting for Joey Flash to get back into the ring and to see the legend grow, to see if the skill they remember is just a dream or a memory. It’s all memory motherfuckers, and roll the drum…
It’s Oblivion. Wow. I act tough and I act full of confidence but what really do I have to offer here? The guy had more experience than me, more titles than me, more size, more strength…what do I have? Speed? Technique? No, what I have Oblivion…
He taps his temple.
Joey: Is this. The record books tell a completely different story from reality don’t they? It never dawned on me until this match was announced, until Joey Flash was going to be facing Oblivion once more. Our official record reads Joey Flash 1-1 Oblivion.
Wow.
Fucking wow. Do you understand what that means? It means Obi, you are even with you Joey Flash. You are equal with the best wrestler in the world. Wanna know a record that baffles even more minds? Grime 1-0 Joey Flash. Will you get that shit? It’s amazing isn’t it? But wait, but wait, it gets even more ridiculous, it gets ridiculous to the point of fucking parody, ya ready for this shit? Joey Flash has four times, once to Oblivion and Reb, once to Grime…but this, this is the most ridiculous part. Lord above, you’re listening to this because of how much of a joke it is, right?
Joey Flash 0-2 Thomas Uriel Bates. This is the most ridiculous record in any record book ever. Thomas, ya fuckin faggot, your head has blown up the size of the fuckin planet by now. You have such a sense of pathetic entitlement it’s sickening. You fucking suck. Real talk, look I’m using no metaphors, no similes, I’m telling you how your big fat head can understand, and you are fucking terrible. Literally bottom tier terrible, not even worth a fucking thought. Every “victory” has an asterisk, fight me straight up, one on one and see what happens. See your world crumble around you, see the world’s strongest man reduced to a squirming slug in the face of greatness.
These people man, you folks don’t understand, you don’t understand the level of cowardice. Ya think Joey Flash is a coward? Next Slam Seth, myself and Scarecrow in a singles match, no shitty stipulations, straight up wrestling. That’s how it goes, I ain’t ducking shit, I want this fight as I want any true contest in this federation. I’m sick of waiting for ‘A PPV’ with these fucking matches, I want to fight you Crow, you want to fight me. Begall us if it actually happens. I ask for nothing from you but a fucking challenge. I’ve lost one singles match in my entire career and it’s the worst loss anyone could have ever experienced. Fuck if I’m ever losing this sorta shit again. Earlier in my career you would have doubted my words, now? Fucking bring it faggots. I will crush you all.
Joey shakes his head.
Joey: Hello Oblivion, I forgot about you for a second, how are you feeling? You feeling confident here? Oblivion holds an even record with Joey Flash that’s more than almost any other wrestler in the world can bring forward. You’ve done well. See there’s a big problem with your record over me, and with your record as a whole. Joey Flash and Reginald Dampshaw III vs Oblivion and Reb? Fuck the hype, I’m better than both of you faggots put together, if it was Joey Flash alone vs the Chrono Rippers I’d have ripped you to shreds but unfortunately I had to watch as that crumpet eating faggot got wrecked by you gimps.
One on one though?
Joey Flash vs Oblivion is a one sided dominant victory by yours truly, I beat you so badly it made you have to reassess ya whole damn life. This match isn’t even close, this match is a closed casket fuckin killing. For the first time what seems like months and months I finally have a one on one match, it’s like a blessing from the gods, this is my shit right here. Tag matches are all well and good, some people love that shit and live for that shit, my boys Cairo and Kaz fuckin crush that shit. But this…the feeling ya get when you take another person and destroy their world around them with your skill, that’s what I want, this shit is like heroin.
When we first met in competition I was a rookie, all wet behind the ears and shit. I was Television Champion and you the struggling former World Champion had a shot at taking out the flavour of the month, it was all set up for you to just crush this floppy haired greaseball and send him packing straight out of the federation. Betting lines were evens for this shit, but even you were unprepared for what happened in the ring, the world was unprepared for what was on show. I made a mockery of the odds and I made a mockery of you. The all-conquering power that is Oblivion was decimated and crushed by someone who is practically half his size. Since that match I have never once been the underdog in a WCF scheduled contest, this time we step into the ring I am the prohibitive favourite.
That first time we clashed you had everything to lose and I had everything to gain, this time the tables are turned and now Oblivion has everything to gain from a win here and Joey Flash has everything to lose. My record is the most untouched, unblemished thing in the whole company. No one compares. Since we fought I’ve become the standard bearer, the gold figurehead gleaming and projecting nothing but greatness, but you Oblivion? You’ve been reduced to a joke, that’s where you’re at. You are the freak in the corner everyone laughs at and jokes, nudge nudge ‘There goes that guy in the mask who used to be relevant, what’s his name again?’
Do I think you’re a joke? Absolutely fucking not.
Joey runs a hand through his hair as the wind begins picking up and sweeping across the rooftop.
Joey: You’re a gatekeeper and a custodian of the federation. You’re a needed bit part player in the midst of a Shakespearian epic, you’re the danger that lurks around each corner and the monster that is always talked of in hushed tones, so why Oblivion are you so intent in fucking that up? You’re something that should be so much more than IT is, people speak in hushed tones fucking mocking you now. This is your chance though, you take the scalp of the golden boy and you’re right back as the monster, the killer, the fucking demon.
The problem we have here Oblivion, is what happens when one monster is happily going along his merry way slaying victims and enemies, then spots the golden child who looks so…so tasty. Fresh meat for the kill, Joey Flash so prim and so proper he looks, his record sparkles like stars in the night and you creep upon him with your fangs ready to eat this meal that the gods have so kindly thrown in your way…
Joey smiles.
Joey: Then it turns out the golden child is a monster on a completely different level to you altogether. You destroy people’s bodies whereas I rend their very mind and soul from them. This isn’t a Hammer Horror flick, this is a competitive sport. In your world of stalking the night you’re the fucking king, you’re the god of darkness but in MY world, in that squared circle that is the kingdom ruled solely by Lord Joseph fucking Flash. You step in to my realm and your life is as good as forfeit, you turn into my plaything and my toy to use how I see fit.
I’m better than you in every conceivable facet of wrestling, for every physical advantage you have I have leagues more in every technical aspect. Do you know how to cut off the ring? Do you know the correct form behind throwing a punch? Do you know how to shoot, how to sprawl? I’m the man of 2000 holds, each one could be a fuckin armbar and I’d catch you in it every fucking time because the simple fact is that you’re a mindless brute who survives on size and strength alone, but that doesn’t cut it at the level I compete at Oblivion. You can overwhelm people all well and good when they don’t know what they’re doing, but to someone who is adept to the level I am? Please. Every ambling step you take looks so slow and pathetic, I can tell from the twitch in your shoulder joint every punch you’re going to throw, the angle it’s coming and the time I have to dodge and counter. No chucky, this is fucking childsplay to me.
In the real world Oblivion, you terrify me. I have no idea what is going on in your mangled mind, I can’t even hope to understand your motives and the sick sadistic thoughts you have and the sick sadistic actions you’ve done. You make my rap sheet look like a fucking hymn book, you are the most intimidating person I’ve experienced here…but the thing is this is not a life or death match fought for survival on the street; this is a fucking wrestling match.
In this world? I terrify you.
In this world I understand you down to every movement you make and every thought you think. Let Sunday night show as long awaited example of why I am the most revered and feared wrestler in the world when I take your false confidence and sense of self-worth as wrestler and turn it into dust in front of your own eyes. Monster meets IT’s maker, for people who haven’t seen Joey Flash in singles competition you’re in for one hell of a fucking treat. This is like wrestling porn the shit I do in that ring. Oblivion you are simply here as a dummy to showcase my transcendent skill on, we could legitimately have an inflatable doll in there with me and it’d still be the same level of competition. This is like a birthday candle against a solar flare, I’m burning bright and you’re about to be snuffed the fuck out.
This fight is a mismatch of the highest proportions, it’s not a knock on Oblivion, any person facing me would be receiving the exact same treatment…though it doesn’t help Oblivion being the biggest sack of worthless shit in the entire company. There’s levels to this shit, you are bottom tier, you’re that snapz tier, Professor Coach tier, I exist on a level that is so far above your mental capacity to even understand let alone drag your body to think of matching it.
This is a massacre, this is a thorough one sided beat down, this is what happens when IT gets IT’s final fucking bodybag.
Zip him up. Enjoy ya fucking beating you bum.
