Post by Joey Flash on Jul 4, 2015 9:08:39 GMT -5
State of Imperium Address
The United States Bobby Cairo Tag Team Champion stared half lidded across the table as Joey Flash stood dressed in his familiar white suit in front of a projector. Kaz Mazy had been convinced to come to the ‘State of Imperium’ business meeting this month as Joey had promised him copious amounts of dank herb and hot liquor, as he glanced down in front of him at the still water stagnating in his cup he immediately regretted attending. To his left Zombie McMorris, the man who would have been trashing the room in anger at being promised a high and receiving a mothafawkin water was instead sat sipping on the water and looking on at Flash with great intent. Kaz had even seen ZMAC supping a latte earlier, what have we become?
To his right Buddy Roman was engrossed more in corresponding on his phone than what Flash was about to say.
Joey: Phones away. This isn’t free time.
Roman looked upward at Flash and pocketed his phone.
Buddy: I was merely ordering some refreshments.
Joey: This is a serious meeting not a place for ‘refreshments’.
Kaz: Lighten up; I could do with some junk food.
Joey: Junk food? You’re an athlete!
Kaz pointed to the middle of the table where the US Title and both Tag Team Titles lay.
Joey: Point taken. Well gentlemen I think we need to get this business started. First order of business today is to congratulate our great friend and comrade Mr Mazy on managing to single handedly and effortlessly embarrass the DRG and remove their highest ranking belt from their grasp. Congratulations Mr Mazy.
Kaz: Question.
Joey: Yes?
Kaz: When did I become Mr Mazy?
Joey: When you took The Godfather’s mantle, it is not an easy job being king, or god, whatever the fuck you are.
Kaz: You’re the one that calls themselves, and I quote ‘The King’ ‘The Emperor’ ‘The Lord’ ‘The Prince’ ‘The God’. I am the Godson of Professional Wrestling, what the fuck Joe, you acting like a fuckin oddball today.
Joey: Pardon me for wanting a little bit of professionalism from us from now on.
The pensive Zombie McMorris swishes his golden completely non coked up and meth effected locks to one side and begins to speak. The man looks like a screenshot from a Loreal advert.
ZMAC: You’re the one that ran about Blast in a Wolf Mask and attacked several people, unprovoked.
Joey: The fact still remains…
Buddy: I think what Joseph is trying to say, is as we’ve dwindled in number we need to make up for in business acumen, planning and promotion.
Joey: Fuckin home run for the Jew.
Buddy: Call me the Hebrew Hammer.
Joey: So Mr Mazy, congratulations!
Kaz: Yeah, thanks.
What had Imperium become? Kaz had joined up with thoughts of greatness, a brotherhood of elites standing in full control of the federation and-
Voice: Delivery.
Buddy: Ah, it’s here.
Joey: Kaz, get the door, please.
Kaz shrugged and opened the door to the room in the back of La Societa, he looked forward to the pizza and- (was once again cut off mid thought, this happened a lot to him in these meetings)
Kaz: FUCKIN WEED.
Stood at the door was the overpowering figure of The Allfather Odin Balfore, On one shoulder was a massive keg of beer and under the other arm three large pizza boxes, a bag of piff and another of prime coke.
Joey: Glad you can join us, this meeting can really begin.
Joey looked at his comrades; Kaz was looking so disconsolate earlier, now the guy was as happy as a pig in shit. It has been hard for them all Joey understood, looking at Kaz Mazy it was obvious to Joey that it had been hardest for him. The man had lost his father figure, his mentor and his best friend, this was not something that could be easily soothed or repaired. Yet…this man had been Imperium’s most successful performer, he held a quarter of the gold in the federation by himself. Joey thought he had acquired a troublesome punk as a team mate when they first allied, now he realised that he had acquired a straight up fucking stud.
Joey: This was Imperium…
Joey found himself speaking aloud without conscious thought. The room of revelry fell silent as his four remaining comrades looked on.
Joey: This IS Imperium.
Buddy: What an astute young man, oh my days.
Joey smiled.
They all fucking smiled. They all understood what this was, what had happened to them. It washed over them every single day like the tide hammering at a crumbling cliff face; you lost your two stars, what is left? Failure, failure, failure. What a joke…
Joey: Business acumen, planning and promotion doesn’t mean we fucking abandon what we are. We are STILL the greatest collection of talent in WCF history. We don’t let this shit fucking slip.
Kaz: No way we fucking don’t.
ZMAC: FUCK NO.
Buddy: I concur.
Odin: You concur? Right. Yes, we’re fucking awesome what more do you want?
Joey: Perfect. Now next on the docket, recruitment. I know, I know, we want ICE and Bobby back, but that’s…a dream. Who can fill the place of these two superstars?
He hoped to high hell these people never returned. Joey had as supreme a control of this group as he could have ever imagined if Beckman or Cairo were around to…challenge him. He hoped Buddy Roman would keep his end of the bargain up regarding Beckman at least. But-
Kaz: How about Dune and Howie?
The room went quiet, Joey locked eyes with Kaz.
Joey: Pardon?
Kaz: and…Occulo.
Joey smiled.
Joey: I’m sorry; I thought you just said that the most eligible members are…The Sentinels?
Buddy: The championship pedigree is undeniable.
Joey: What?!
Kaz: Look bro, think about it right? They have the World Champion, the Television Champion and the former US Champion. Outside of us well shit…they might be the three best guys in the company.
Joey: Whoa hold your fuckin horses, am I hearing you guys right? Come on how can you even suggest this shit? Occulo? Really? Dune? Howie? Oh come on.
Buddy: Everything has to be a unanimous vote for it to pass here. To consider the manipulation and domination of the Sentinels to our will and subservience say ‘Aye’…Aye.
Kaz: Aye.
ZMAC: Yep
Odin: Uhuh.
Joey: Fuck NO! Listen, these people are scum, these people are the lowest of the low. Occulo is a fucking terrible person and an even worse wrestler; it says something about you when your own father is trying to kill you on weekly basis. He’s trying to correct the wrongs he made by spunking in Occy’s loving, now dead, mother’s vagina.
ZMAC: He’s trying to kill you on a weekly basis too.
Joey: That’s beside the point. Howard Black? Well he’s uhhh…
Kaz: Fun to have a beer with.
ZMAC: Not a bad wrestler.
Odin: Alright.
Buddy: A champion.
Joey: He’s a fucking nobody. We do NOT recruit nobodies. We are the elite of the elite. We have cool and unique names like Kaz, Zombie, Odin, we do not settle for ‘Howard’ for fucks sake.
Odin: We have a ‘Joey’.
Joey: Enough! Dune? I’m going to annihilate this faggot and leave absolutely nothing left of him to be considered worthy enough to even join the DRG. Please, let’s be serious.
ZMAC: I want Orbit back.
Buddy: Does he come as a package deal with Fly?
Joey: ENOUGH! Next topic. Our plans for Ultimate Showdown…Kaz…
Seven Deadly Flashes
Joey Flash awoke with a banging headache and a drool affixed piece of paper stuck to the side of his face. The room they had been occupying the previous night had been covered with various bodily fluids, spillages and general waste. Beautiful, respect the sanctity of your host eh guys? All the Imperium members were crumpled up in drunken voids at various angles in the room. Only Buddy Roman was awake. He sat with a cup of coffee in one hand and phone in other. He once again lowered the phone into his pocket.
Buddy: Do you remember what we discussed last night?
He didn’t.
Joey: Yeah.
Buddy: Is that really what you want for Ultimate Showdown?
Joey: Uhh-
He didn’t know.
Joey: Yeah.
Buddy smiled a beaming grin.
Buddy: Excellent. You are a wise decision maker, I was right to trust you.
Joey: Fuck off Roman.
Joey shoved the door of the room open and walked out into the hall leaving inebriated impaired Imperium back in the preceding room. As he strolled through his club and inspected the damage of the previous night he felt one overwhelming thought, one he didn’t expect to fee. As much as used them, abused them and treated them like scum of the earth and the most worthless of pawns, he actually…cared for these people. Kaz, ZMAC, Odin…even Roman. He liked them, he liked them all. It had been months since he had been able to call someone a friend, indeed the last person he bestowed that title on tried to have him killed, though that poor bastard didn’t count on Alessandra putting one in the back of his head. He found it harder to trust than anything, especially now when he was certain two separate forces wanted to see him dead. ‘Sam’ who had already tried to have him killed many times and implicate Alessandra as the mastermind and now John Mullins Sr, things were not working out well for Joseph Malignaggi. Maybe it would finally pay to have people he could trust; no he didn’t trust these people yet, but he liked them, and that was a start.
Joey: This is going to be an interesting week.
Joey continued through his club, it felt like a ghost town. All the promises of carnal pleasure, the drugs, the alcohol, the sweat and grime (OOC: this word cannot be used in a roleplay anymore without feeling fucking stupid, shit) had vanished and all that was left was the echo of his own voice.
Joey: What happened last week with me? Does anyone know? Raymond Hatcher you say? Night Rider you say? Who are these people? What did they do, what happened? Was I in some drug addled stupor while I lost to these people?
Joey holds his hands up and shrugs.
Joey: For that I wholeheartedly apologise.
Then smiles.
Joey: This week though, I’m on a drug addled comedown and that’s a completely different animal. Nah I’m just playin with you fools. No inebriation, no fuck ups, no lack of care this week. God I wish Hatcher was here to receive what he deserves rather than poor Terry Roberts having to suffer such an embarrassing one sided defeat like the one that’s heading his way. So yes, let’s get it straight, Joey Flash lost a match last week. Wowee what a surprise, what an epic upset. Will Joey Flash lose this week? You tell me?
You tell me WCF Universe, look into my eyes, will Joey Flash lose this week? I think the words you are looking for are ‘Normal service has resumed’. Wanna know what that means uninitiated, so Night Rider, Terry Roberts, wanna know what normal service is in WCF? It is Joey Flash dominating any competition he faces. It is witnessing the single greatest wrestler in the history of the business dominate weakass fuckin faggots like the pair of you week after week like its nothing.
Both you people are veterans, part of the WCF ‘old school’, two people who fought the best, the crème de la crème, you competed and won at the highest level. Go you. Really, I’m not being patronising, I’m not telling you that your accomplishments mean absolutely nothing and that you are both absolute embarrassments of both people and wrestlers oh no. You’re even fucking WORSE than that.
Joey takes a seat at the now vacant bar and pulls a half drunk beverage toward him and gives it a sip, rum and coke. He downs it.
Joey: Let me give you a little bit of a hint as to what you are up against this week. You won’t know, you won’t have a fuckin idea. I’m going to hit you with a dose of ether so strong it’ll make the shit Howie gave to Tommy look like a child’s bedtime story. This isn’t going to be comfortable; this is going to be a fun ride. Here’s where we begin, a Joey Flash lesson.
You are in the ring with the best wrestler in the world, period. Not period, comma, ever. Period. Good, that’s better.
Night Rider, you’ve fallen face fuckin first into my trap. Last week was that ‘Let’s get his guard down’ moment, this week is the ‘Let’s carve his exposed stomach open’ moment. You’re the exact type of wack ass motherfucker I love feasting on. That type of guy who holds himself a little bit too high without having a fucking clue what he’s up against, I warned you, I fucking warned you man. Yet you seem so concerned about whatever retarded group you’re building to pay the correct amount of attention to what’s going on around you. What a pathetic level of arrogance and conceit. People call me arrogant?
You somehow think this fuckin idiotic group of failures and rejects are going to be able to change the WCF landscape? If it’s not already fuckin completely obvious, you’re completely outmatched in this one so I’m going to condescend and bully you for the rest of it, okay? Good. You worthless fuckin bastard, what can you even offer in this match? ‘Oh I beat Joey Flash once’ good one, well done, try it again. I can promise, I can guarantee you don’t win this match; you have absolutely nothing for me. You are the epitome of a no mark. You’re outmatched by ZMAC, you and ya fuckin partner both. It doesn’t even need me to bother with this shit for us to win. Do you understand how bad you are yet?
What’s this I’m hearing from the fans? ‘GIVE ME THAT SHOOT JOEY WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’ What am I doing? I’m giving this guy exactly what he deserves, fucking nothing. You’ve not at all earned the A+ material in your tenure in the WCF; fuck it in the tenure I’ve seen? I should end it here and you’d be fucking done. You are a D to D+ level performer and nothing more, this match is a walkover for us. You are nothing Night Rider.
Let me give a little tip to you, it’s called the ‘Get yourself worthy and worthwhile of being fucking killed by Joey Flash’ list, this guy is not one of them. This guy is as bad as it gets. You go into a bar he’s the guy you hear asking for ‘One Beer Please’. You’re as boring as watching beige paint dry.
Night Rider, the man has the personality of a lobotomised Vulcan.
The facial expression of a mannequin
The attitude of a stoned Buddhist
The vocal leadership of a mute
The athleticism of a stillborn
The excitement of a mime
The fandom of a Mormon church
The marketing appeal of a Christian rock band
The wrestling skills of Tyler Walker.
Do I need more? Do I? I think you’re this terrible that I can disrespect you to the point of ignoring you from this point on…but that’s not how Joey Flash rolls. I fucking annihilate shit, I know how bad you are, how utterly pathetic. That you’re in the true bottom tier of WCF performers, yet does that stop me wanting to crush you? Nope. I ignore no one who resides in my dominion, I take no holier than thou attitude, my only attitude is ‘better than thou’ and it’s slowly becoming a fuckin engraved law around here. You’re not the first ineffectual faggot who has no idea about the beating he’s about to receive at the hands of Joey Flash, that shit is commonplace, that shit happens every damn week.
The only difference is I gave you a week’s grace to enjoy whatever glory and happiness you received from the victory you had over me and to drain every ounce of that from your fuckin soul. God the look on your face when you realise you’re Minnesota Fats and I’m Fast Eddie after all this time. You’ve been played Night Rider, you’ve been fuckin played all ends up and you have no idea. What you’re going to witness on Sunday night is what everyone whoever crosses my path ends up concluding: ‘This is perfection’. You’ll be seeing the beams of godly light looming over you as you take the pin, and I’ll whisper in your ear ‘You’re nothing punk’ as you fade into mediocrity. You’re a victory I’m going to savour.
See you soon Kit, ya cunt.
Joey cleans a lil, drinks a lil, does Joey give a fuck? Joey does not, Joey is tipsy before daybreak.
Joey: I thought to myself, how to introduce myself to the pair of you in the way you would understand. I thought ‘Let’s pick a fucking angle probably 90% of Terry Roberts’ opponents have taken when facing his boring pathetic self and use it myself!’ So let’s introduce the Seven Deadly Flashes.
I am attracted to curvy big titted bitches. Ayo I’m not saying I’m gonna fuck em, but like I would and shit if I were single…so yeah. Any of you Joey Flash fans who fit this description please call 079-*BLEEEEEP*
Yep I must be Alan, my Envy is overwhelming. Fuck that, I want one thing someone else possesses, it is my right, it is my destiny, I am waiting for the handover. Fuck you Dune ya faggot.
I formed Imperium, it had Beckman, Cairo, Balfore, McMorris and Mazy, in what world am I NOT greedy?
Terry Roberts after a hard Saturday Night. Really though, I’m Sloth as fuck for this match, if you guys were worth anything I’d be slightly bothered and not be bodying you in such disrespectful fashion right now.
I am exceedingly proud of the fact I’m going to kill Terry Roberts and Night Rider at Slam. Also, I look fucking awesome; have beautiful eyes, a great body, amazing charisma and a massive dick…large dick…medium dick…satisfactory dick…okay.
Terry Roberts, Night Rider, wanna know what the wrath of Joey Flash is like? Well you’re not going to find out because of how rudimentary and terrible you are, but you can find out what slightly annoyed, bored and generally dulled Joey is like.
HINT: It’s enough to fucking crush you guys.
Fat gluttonous fuck.
Oh what was that? That was a terrible selection of mind numbing ramblings about your own ideals Joey? You’re right! I’m in full agreement; wanna know what that shit is called? Filler. That ladies and gentlemen comes when your opponents are so pathetic and worthless you can’t even be bothered to dedicate and focus time toward them. That’s what this match is, that’s what Night Rider and Terry Roberts are. I’m bored with you guys, I’m really bored; I’m nose picking, nail biting and ass scratching bored. Generally Joey Flash is all killer, no filler, this time though? God damn I’ll fuck myself in the ass with a cactus if anyone can talk for more than five minutes about you fuckin no marks.
Question, who the fuck is Terry Roberts? Anyone?
A builder?
A plumber?
Yep excellent guesses, you came so close with that one, the correct answer in fact turns out some weird fuckin Jekyll and Hyde weird vampire mothafucka…can I have a gun yet? Can I blast my cranium into space? So ‘Synn’ you dyslexic faggot, you’re the type of guy who spells Chris ‘Kriss’ and Jonny ‘Johhni’. Kill yourself. Sorry, khiilll youurseellf.
Joey smiles. Damn right he does.
Joey: This is as easy as it gets, this is warbling all day easy how ridiculous you are Roberts. Now I generally pride myself on my research and knowledge of an opponent, but let’s get this straight, correct me if I’m wrong. You are a pathetic worthless pointless civilian who can offer nothing in this world of professional athletes and constantly envy both our skill and our athleticism (and by proxy skill with females, which is beyond yours, yep Celeste is beyond you). This seems in all honesty like a match where I should go off, should go honey glazed ham on you motherfuckers and yet, it’s not going to happen. You are boring Terry, you are fucking mind numbing. I’d do research on you if I could be bothered and yet all I have are assumptions, here they are:
1) You’re an underachiever who has never even put forth a top tier case in WCF
2) You’re like some weird Jekyll and Hyde cunt
3) …or a vampire.
4) …or an alien from Xaxasulashxahxxax.
Who fucking cares?
The only thing that matters is what happens between those ropes in the squared circle. I have absolutely no problem with you except the fact you are toddling into my way this week. Here is what’s going to happen. You’re going to fuck off, I’m not going to care about you or mention you again, our match ends.
Feeling bullied? Feeling weak Terry? That’s what every normal person who watches one of your promos thinks after being subjected to such torture, torture worse than watching that stupid bitch walking around the Hardcore Title. Every time you pop onto their screen it’s another test in patience and stamina.
‘When can we get through this segment with that idiot with the face paint?’
When was the last person who praised Terry Roberts? Do you hear people saying ‘did you hear that pipe bomb from Roberts?’ Do you hear people say ‘Oh god Roberts is back this will change everything!’ No? Well ain’t that a shame, you’re as unmarketable as a person as you are terrible as wrestler. Oh I’m sorry, am I treading on some toes? Fuck you Roberts ya cunt. This is that slow burning ether that really does the damage, you’re a short term ‘Yeah that’ll teach him!’ faggot. I’m a long term ‘That’ll change him’ type mothafucka. No one who has ever been in the ring with me has walked out the same. That’s not a brag or a boast, it just is what it is. No one can handle me, at all and you will be no different.
Joey holds his head in his hands.
Joey: You know what I hate? Opponents so weak I can barely break a sweat. I’m not only the greatest talent in the federation; I have the most courage, the most will, the most speed, and power, whatever. It’s ridiculous. So let me get this straight. Terry Roberts, mild mannered gentleman, a pretty terrible wrestler, and then when angry becomes a retarded incredible Hulk? Right? Am I reading this shit right, am I hallucinating?
Hey I know how to legitimise our product! Let’s bring back another fucking weirdo that no one cares about. It is as simple as this ya fuckin pair of doofuses, I’m not blowing smoke and I’m not giving some long speech about how good myself and my partner are. We fuckin speak for ourselves in that ring. Angels of Death vs Imperium, what a ridiculous idea, anyone vs Imperium is a closed casket fuckin killing. The pair of you chumps couldn’t be more out of your depth. It’s time you get the old fashioned Flash welcome back to this place, it’s coming courtesy of myself and ZMAC stomping you geezers to fuckin death. Times have changed, and you’re going to see the pinnacle of what wrestling has evolved into when we go mano a mano hombres. You couldn’t beat us on our worst night, which to be honest probably will be Sunday; I’m feeling fucked as shit like I’m a fuckin scat addict or some shit. I dunno, I’m warbling now, I don’t even know what I’m saying. This is how bad the two of you are, do you understand?! You are making me ramble. God fucking damn it.
This could have been summed up a hell of a lot quicker and I could have gotten my hair of the dog poppin a lot sooner if I would simply have said:
Angels of Death, bodybags are in season and you’re finna be the freshest fuckin kill. It’s over.
“Slam, the meaning of pain.
The way you faggots will die.”
Joey Flash, the Monarch of WCF, infamous butcher, will be seeing you for ya fuckin execution. Ciao for now bitches.
The Killing Joke
Joseph made his way further through the La Societa dinge as the sun was beginning to peak across the New York skyline, he stepped into the elevator to take him up to the top floor he felt a twinge of foreboding run down his spine. His mind flashed back to the time when his then unknown would be assassin had hired some goons to take him down in the name of ‘Allegri’. For months after he had entered a cat and mouse game with his fiancée to try and discern who the person is that wanted him dead so much. Rather than being his killer Alessandra was his own personal Angel of Death herself as she saved him from Vincenzo and the betrayers Eddie and Harris. That was the final time he let the word ‘trust’ enter his mind.
He had hoped that had nipped the problem in the bud but the one man who was behind everything was still out there, the one man who had orchestrated everything, planted the discord in Joey’s mind regarding Alessandra, the man who when Joey was in Vegas tried to frame him for the murder of a stripper, the man whom Joey only knew one thing. A name.
Sam.
Nothing more, nothing less. He had been reticent to tell Alessandra anything about the root of this for fear of endangering her not that she particularly needed any protection but he needed to work quietly and carefully, any slip ups could be the end of him. He had taken to hiding in plain sight nowadays, taking to the spotlight as often as possible in the media to try to diffuse any potential plots against him. Have people with you at all times, Imperium helped, they helped a hell of a lot.
The door to the elevator pinged and Joey stepped out onto the roof and was blinded by the impact of the sun on his eyes, he raised a hand to shield his peepers as he walked across the rooftop garden toward his office. He pulled the door to the office open and was immediately frozen in place as the sunlight shone through one of the large windows to project not only his shadow but a second shadow of a person in the room across the wall. He had been had, that chill, that foreboding, what was it Joey? ‘Have people with you at all times’? Well now he was completely alone, without a weapon and dead in his tracks.
With a creak Joey’s large chair turned round and the shadow was now manifest as the figure came into view.
Joey: You…
The person had a look like nothing he had ever seen before. No, he had seen it, once. The last time Joseph had seen that look was when he saw the true face of the woman he thought he knew more than any other, the look as Alessandra stepped past him and casually executed two unarmed men right in front of him. No more sweet housewife, no more elegant lady, welcome to a stone cold fucking killer. That was the expression that was bearing down on him right now, if only it was Alessandra.
The man swept his thick black hair from his face and deliberately placed a handgun onto Joey’s desk, a gaze awash with fury and pain came from the man’s eyes.
Joey: Occulo.
Occulo placed a hand round the gun and raised it toward Joey.
Occulo: We are going to have a little talk.
The United States Bobby Cairo Tag Team Champion stared half lidded across the table as Joey Flash stood dressed in his familiar white suit in front of a projector. Kaz Mazy had been convinced to come to the ‘State of Imperium’ business meeting this month as Joey had promised him copious amounts of dank herb and hot liquor, as he glanced down in front of him at the still water stagnating in his cup he immediately regretted attending. To his left Zombie McMorris, the man who would have been trashing the room in anger at being promised a high and receiving a mothafawkin water was instead sat sipping on the water and looking on at Flash with great intent. Kaz had even seen ZMAC supping a latte earlier, what have we become?
To his right Buddy Roman was engrossed more in corresponding on his phone than what Flash was about to say.
Joey: Phones away. This isn’t free time.
Roman looked upward at Flash and pocketed his phone.
Buddy: I was merely ordering some refreshments.
Joey: This is a serious meeting not a place for ‘refreshments’.
Kaz: Lighten up; I could do with some junk food.
Joey: Junk food? You’re an athlete!
Kaz pointed to the middle of the table where the US Title and both Tag Team Titles lay.
Joey: Point taken. Well gentlemen I think we need to get this business started. First order of business today is to congratulate our great friend and comrade Mr Mazy on managing to single handedly and effortlessly embarrass the DRG and remove their highest ranking belt from their grasp. Congratulations Mr Mazy.
Kaz: Question.
Joey: Yes?
Kaz: When did I become Mr Mazy?
Joey: When you took The Godfather’s mantle, it is not an easy job being king, or god, whatever the fuck you are.
Kaz: You’re the one that calls themselves, and I quote ‘The King’ ‘The Emperor’ ‘The Lord’ ‘The Prince’ ‘The God’. I am the Godson of Professional Wrestling, what the fuck Joe, you acting like a fuckin oddball today.
Joey: Pardon me for wanting a little bit of professionalism from us from now on.
The pensive Zombie McMorris swishes his golden completely non coked up and meth effected locks to one side and begins to speak. The man looks like a screenshot from a Loreal advert.
ZMAC: You’re the one that ran about Blast in a Wolf Mask and attacked several people, unprovoked.
Joey: The fact still remains…
Buddy: I think what Joseph is trying to say, is as we’ve dwindled in number we need to make up for in business acumen, planning and promotion.
Joey: Fuckin home run for the Jew.
Buddy: Call me the Hebrew Hammer.
Joey: So Mr Mazy, congratulations!
Kaz: Yeah, thanks.
What had Imperium become? Kaz had joined up with thoughts of greatness, a brotherhood of elites standing in full control of the federation and-
Voice: Delivery.
Buddy: Ah, it’s here.
Joey: Kaz, get the door, please.
Kaz shrugged and opened the door to the room in the back of La Societa, he looked forward to the pizza and- (was once again cut off mid thought, this happened a lot to him in these meetings)
Kaz: FUCKIN WEED.
Stood at the door was the overpowering figure of The Allfather Odin Balfore, On one shoulder was a massive keg of beer and under the other arm three large pizza boxes, a bag of piff and another of prime coke.
Joey: Glad you can join us, this meeting can really begin.
Joey looked at his comrades; Kaz was looking so disconsolate earlier, now the guy was as happy as a pig in shit. It has been hard for them all Joey understood, looking at Kaz Mazy it was obvious to Joey that it had been hardest for him. The man had lost his father figure, his mentor and his best friend, this was not something that could be easily soothed or repaired. Yet…this man had been Imperium’s most successful performer, he held a quarter of the gold in the federation by himself. Joey thought he had acquired a troublesome punk as a team mate when they first allied, now he realised that he had acquired a straight up fucking stud.
Joey: This was Imperium…
Joey found himself speaking aloud without conscious thought. The room of revelry fell silent as his four remaining comrades looked on.
Joey: This IS Imperium.
Buddy: What an astute young man, oh my days.
Joey smiled.
They all fucking smiled. They all understood what this was, what had happened to them. It washed over them every single day like the tide hammering at a crumbling cliff face; you lost your two stars, what is left? Failure, failure, failure. What a joke…
Joey: Business acumen, planning and promotion doesn’t mean we fucking abandon what we are. We are STILL the greatest collection of talent in WCF history. We don’t let this shit fucking slip.
Kaz: No way we fucking don’t.
ZMAC: FUCK NO.
Buddy: I concur.
Odin: You concur? Right. Yes, we’re fucking awesome what more do you want?
Joey: Perfect. Now next on the docket, recruitment. I know, I know, we want ICE and Bobby back, but that’s…a dream. Who can fill the place of these two superstars?
He hoped to high hell these people never returned. Joey had as supreme a control of this group as he could have ever imagined if Beckman or Cairo were around to…challenge him. He hoped Buddy Roman would keep his end of the bargain up regarding Beckman at least. But-
Kaz: How about Dune and Howie?
The room went quiet, Joey locked eyes with Kaz.
Joey: Pardon?
Kaz: and…Occulo.
Joey smiled.
Joey: I’m sorry; I thought you just said that the most eligible members are…The Sentinels?
Buddy: The championship pedigree is undeniable.
Joey: What?!
Kaz: Look bro, think about it right? They have the World Champion, the Television Champion and the former US Champion. Outside of us well shit…they might be the three best guys in the company.
Joey: Whoa hold your fuckin horses, am I hearing you guys right? Come on how can you even suggest this shit? Occulo? Really? Dune? Howie? Oh come on.
Buddy: Everything has to be a unanimous vote for it to pass here. To consider the manipulation and domination of the Sentinels to our will and subservience say ‘Aye’…Aye.
Kaz: Aye.
ZMAC: Yep
Odin: Uhuh.
Joey: Fuck NO! Listen, these people are scum, these people are the lowest of the low. Occulo is a fucking terrible person and an even worse wrestler; it says something about you when your own father is trying to kill you on weekly basis. He’s trying to correct the wrongs he made by spunking in Occy’s loving, now dead, mother’s vagina.
ZMAC: He’s trying to kill you on a weekly basis too.
Joey: That’s beside the point. Howard Black? Well he’s uhhh…
Kaz: Fun to have a beer with.
ZMAC: Not a bad wrestler.
Odin: Alright.
Buddy: A champion.
Joey: He’s a fucking nobody. We do NOT recruit nobodies. We are the elite of the elite. We have cool and unique names like Kaz, Zombie, Odin, we do not settle for ‘Howard’ for fucks sake.
Odin: We have a ‘Joey’.
Joey: Enough! Dune? I’m going to annihilate this faggot and leave absolutely nothing left of him to be considered worthy enough to even join the DRG. Please, let’s be serious.
ZMAC: I want Orbit back.
Buddy: Does he come as a package deal with Fly?
Joey: ENOUGH! Next topic. Our plans for Ultimate Showdown…Kaz…
Seven Deadly Flashes
Joey Flash awoke with a banging headache and a drool affixed piece of paper stuck to the side of his face. The room they had been occupying the previous night had been covered with various bodily fluids, spillages and general waste. Beautiful, respect the sanctity of your host eh guys? All the Imperium members were crumpled up in drunken voids at various angles in the room. Only Buddy Roman was awake. He sat with a cup of coffee in one hand and phone in other. He once again lowered the phone into his pocket.
Buddy: Do you remember what we discussed last night?
He didn’t.
Joey: Yeah.
Buddy: Is that really what you want for Ultimate Showdown?
Joey: Uhh-
He didn’t know.
Joey: Yeah.
Buddy smiled a beaming grin.
Buddy: Excellent. You are a wise decision maker, I was right to trust you.
Joey: Fuck off Roman.
Joey shoved the door of the room open and walked out into the hall leaving inebriated impaired Imperium back in the preceding room. As he strolled through his club and inspected the damage of the previous night he felt one overwhelming thought, one he didn’t expect to fee. As much as used them, abused them and treated them like scum of the earth and the most worthless of pawns, he actually…cared for these people. Kaz, ZMAC, Odin…even Roman. He liked them, he liked them all. It had been months since he had been able to call someone a friend, indeed the last person he bestowed that title on tried to have him killed, though that poor bastard didn’t count on Alessandra putting one in the back of his head. He found it harder to trust than anything, especially now when he was certain two separate forces wanted to see him dead. ‘Sam’ who had already tried to have him killed many times and implicate Alessandra as the mastermind and now John Mullins Sr, things were not working out well for Joseph Malignaggi. Maybe it would finally pay to have people he could trust; no he didn’t trust these people yet, but he liked them, and that was a start.
Joey: This is going to be an interesting week.
Joey continued through his club, it felt like a ghost town. All the promises of carnal pleasure, the drugs, the alcohol, the sweat and grime (OOC: this word cannot be used in a roleplay anymore without feeling fucking stupid, shit) had vanished and all that was left was the echo of his own voice.
Joey: What happened last week with me? Does anyone know? Raymond Hatcher you say? Night Rider you say? Who are these people? What did they do, what happened? Was I in some drug addled stupor while I lost to these people?
Joey holds his hands up and shrugs.
Joey: For that I wholeheartedly apologise.
Then smiles.
Joey: This week though, I’m on a drug addled comedown and that’s a completely different animal. Nah I’m just playin with you fools. No inebriation, no fuck ups, no lack of care this week. God I wish Hatcher was here to receive what he deserves rather than poor Terry Roberts having to suffer such an embarrassing one sided defeat like the one that’s heading his way. So yes, let’s get it straight, Joey Flash lost a match last week. Wowee what a surprise, what an epic upset. Will Joey Flash lose this week? You tell me?
You tell me WCF Universe, look into my eyes, will Joey Flash lose this week? I think the words you are looking for are ‘Normal service has resumed’. Wanna know what that means uninitiated, so Night Rider, Terry Roberts, wanna know what normal service is in WCF? It is Joey Flash dominating any competition he faces. It is witnessing the single greatest wrestler in the history of the business dominate weakass fuckin faggots like the pair of you week after week like its nothing.
Both you people are veterans, part of the WCF ‘old school’, two people who fought the best, the crème de la crème, you competed and won at the highest level. Go you. Really, I’m not being patronising, I’m not telling you that your accomplishments mean absolutely nothing and that you are both absolute embarrassments of both people and wrestlers oh no. You’re even fucking WORSE than that.
Joey takes a seat at the now vacant bar and pulls a half drunk beverage toward him and gives it a sip, rum and coke. He downs it.
Joey: Let me give you a little bit of a hint as to what you are up against this week. You won’t know, you won’t have a fuckin idea. I’m going to hit you with a dose of ether so strong it’ll make the shit Howie gave to Tommy look like a child’s bedtime story. This isn’t going to be comfortable; this is going to be a fun ride. Here’s where we begin, a Joey Flash lesson.
You are in the ring with the best wrestler in the world, period. Not period, comma, ever. Period. Good, that’s better.
Night Rider, you’ve fallen face fuckin first into my trap. Last week was that ‘Let’s get his guard down’ moment, this week is the ‘Let’s carve his exposed stomach open’ moment. You’re the exact type of wack ass motherfucker I love feasting on. That type of guy who holds himself a little bit too high without having a fucking clue what he’s up against, I warned you, I fucking warned you man. Yet you seem so concerned about whatever retarded group you’re building to pay the correct amount of attention to what’s going on around you. What a pathetic level of arrogance and conceit. People call me arrogant?
You somehow think this fuckin idiotic group of failures and rejects are going to be able to change the WCF landscape? If it’s not already fuckin completely obvious, you’re completely outmatched in this one so I’m going to condescend and bully you for the rest of it, okay? Good. You worthless fuckin bastard, what can you even offer in this match? ‘Oh I beat Joey Flash once’ good one, well done, try it again. I can promise, I can guarantee you don’t win this match; you have absolutely nothing for me. You are the epitome of a no mark. You’re outmatched by ZMAC, you and ya fuckin partner both. It doesn’t even need me to bother with this shit for us to win. Do you understand how bad you are yet?
What’s this I’m hearing from the fans? ‘GIVE ME THAT SHOOT JOEY WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’ What am I doing? I’m giving this guy exactly what he deserves, fucking nothing. You’ve not at all earned the A+ material in your tenure in the WCF; fuck it in the tenure I’ve seen? I should end it here and you’d be fucking done. You are a D to D+ level performer and nothing more, this match is a walkover for us. You are nothing Night Rider.
Let me give a little tip to you, it’s called the ‘Get yourself worthy and worthwhile of being fucking killed by Joey Flash’ list, this guy is not one of them. This guy is as bad as it gets. You go into a bar he’s the guy you hear asking for ‘One Beer Please’. You’re as boring as watching beige paint dry.
Night Rider, the man has the personality of a lobotomised Vulcan.
The facial expression of a mannequin
The attitude of a stoned Buddhist
The vocal leadership of a mute
The athleticism of a stillborn
The excitement of a mime
The fandom of a Mormon church
The marketing appeal of a Christian rock band
The wrestling skills of Tyler Walker.
Do I need more? Do I? I think you’re this terrible that I can disrespect you to the point of ignoring you from this point on…but that’s not how Joey Flash rolls. I fucking annihilate shit, I know how bad you are, how utterly pathetic. That you’re in the true bottom tier of WCF performers, yet does that stop me wanting to crush you? Nope. I ignore no one who resides in my dominion, I take no holier than thou attitude, my only attitude is ‘better than thou’ and it’s slowly becoming a fuckin engraved law around here. You’re not the first ineffectual faggot who has no idea about the beating he’s about to receive at the hands of Joey Flash, that shit is commonplace, that shit happens every damn week.
The only difference is I gave you a week’s grace to enjoy whatever glory and happiness you received from the victory you had over me and to drain every ounce of that from your fuckin soul. God the look on your face when you realise you’re Minnesota Fats and I’m Fast Eddie after all this time. You’ve been played Night Rider, you’ve been fuckin played all ends up and you have no idea. What you’re going to witness on Sunday night is what everyone whoever crosses my path ends up concluding: ‘This is perfection’. You’ll be seeing the beams of godly light looming over you as you take the pin, and I’ll whisper in your ear ‘You’re nothing punk’ as you fade into mediocrity. You’re a victory I’m going to savour.
See you soon Kit, ya cunt.
Joey cleans a lil, drinks a lil, does Joey give a fuck? Joey does not, Joey is tipsy before daybreak.
Joey: I thought to myself, how to introduce myself to the pair of you in the way you would understand. I thought ‘Let’s pick a fucking angle probably 90% of Terry Roberts’ opponents have taken when facing his boring pathetic self and use it myself!’ So let’s introduce the Seven Deadly Flashes.
I am attracted to curvy big titted bitches. Ayo I’m not saying I’m gonna fuck em, but like I would and shit if I were single…so yeah. Any of you Joey Flash fans who fit this description please call 079-*BLEEEEEP*
Yep I must be Alan, my Envy is overwhelming. Fuck that, I want one thing someone else possesses, it is my right, it is my destiny, I am waiting for the handover. Fuck you Dune ya faggot.
I formed Imperium, it had Beckman, Cairo, Balfore, McMorris and Mazy, in what world am I NOT greedy?
Terry Roberts after a hard Saturday Night. Really though, I’m Sloth as fuck for this match, if you guys were worth anything I’d be slightly bothered and not be bodying you in such disrespectful fashion right now.
I am exceedingly proud of the fact I’m going to kill Terry Roberts and Night Rider at Slam. Also, I look fucking awesome; have beautiful eyes, a great body, amazing charisma and a massive dick…large dick…medium dick…satisfactory dick…okay.
Terry Roberts, Night Rider, wanna know what the wrath of Joey Flash is like? Well you’re not going to find out because of how rudimentary and terrible you are, but you can find out what slightly annoyed, bored and generally dulled Joey is like.
HINT: It’s enough to fucking crush you guys.
Fat gluttonous fuck.
Oh what was that? That was a terrible selection of mind numbing ramblings about your own ideals Joey? You’re right! I’m in full agreement; wanna know what that shit is called? Filler. That ladies and gentlemen comes when your opponents are so pathetic and worthless you can’t even be bothered to dedicate and focus time toward them. That’s what this match is, that’s what Night Rider and Terry Roberts are. I’m bored with you guys, I’m really bored; I’m nose picking, nail biting and ass scratching bored. Generally Joey Flash is all killer, no filler, this time though? God damn I’ll fuck myself in the ass with a cactus if anyone can talk for more than five minutes about you fuckin no marks.
Question, who the fuck is Terry Roberts? Anyone?
A builder?
A plumber?
Yep excellent guesses, you came so close with that one, the correct answer in fact turns out some weird fuckin Jekyll and Hyde weird vampire mothafucka…can I have a gun yet? Can I blast my cranium into space? So ‘Synn’ you dyslexic faggot, you’re the type of guy who spells Chris ‘Kriss’ and Jonny ‘Johhni’. Kill yourself. Sorry, khiilll youurseellf.
Joey smiles. Damn right he does.
Joey: This is as easy as it gets, this is warbling all day easy how ridiculous you are Roberts. Now I generally pride myself on my research and knowledge of an opponent, but let’s get this straight, correct me if I’m wrong. You are a pathetic worthless pointless civilian who can offer nothing in this world of professional athletes and constantly envy both our skill and our athleticism (and by proxy skill with females, which is beyond yours, yep Celeste is beyond you). This seems in all honesty like a match where I should go off, should go honey glazed ham on you motherfuckers and yet, it’s not going to happen. You are boring Terry, you are fucking mind numbing. I’d do research on you if I could be bothered and yet all I have are assumptions, here they are:
1) You’re an underachiever who has never even put forth a top tier case in WCF
2) You’re like some weird Jekyll and Hyde cunt
3) …or a vampire.
4) …or an alien from Xaxasulashxahxxax.
Who fucking cares?
The only thing that matters is what happens between those ropes in the squared circle. I have absolutely no problem with you except the fact you are toddling into my way this week. Here is what’s going to happen. You’re going to fuck off, I’m not going to care about you or mention you again, our match ends.
Feeling bullied? Feeling weak Terry? That’s what every normal person who watches one of your promos thinks after being subjected to such torture, torture worse than watching that stupid bitch walking around the Hardcore Title. Every time you pop onto their screen it’s another test in patience and stamina.
‘When can we get through this segment with that idiot with the face paint?’
When was the last person who praised Terry Roberts? Do you hear people saying ‘did you hear that pipe bomb from Roberts?’ Do you hear people say ‘Oh god Roberts is back this will change everything!’ No? Well ain’t that a shame, you’re as unmarketable as a person as you are terrible as wrestler. Oh I’m sorry, am I treading on some toes? Fuck you Roberts ya cunt. This is that slow burning ether that really does the damage, you’re a short term ‘Yeah that’ll teach him!’ faggot. I’m a long term ‘That’ll change him’ type mothafucka. No one who has ever been in the ring with me has walked out the same. That’s not a brag or a boast, it just is what it is. No one can handle me, at all and you will be no different.
Joey holds his head in his hands.
Joey: You know what I hate? Opponents so weak I can barely break a sweat. I’m not only the greatest talent in the federation; I have the most courage, the most will, the most speed, and power, whatever. It’s ridiculous. So let me get this straight. Terry Roberts, mild mannered gentleman, a pretty terrible wrestler, and then when angry becomes a retarded incredible Hulk? Right? Am I reading this shit right, am I hallucinating?
Hey I know how to legitimise our product! Let’s bring back another fucking weirdo that no one cares about. It is as simple as this ya fuckin pair of doofuses, I’m not blowing smoke and I’m not giving some long speech about how good myself and my partner are. We fuckin speak for ourselves in that ring. Angels of Death vs Imperium, what a ridiculous idea, anyone vs Imperium is a closed casket fuckin killing. The pair of you chumps couldn’t be more out of your depth. It’s time you get the old fashioned Flash welcome back to this place, it’s coming courtesy of myself and ZMAC stomping you geezers to fuckin death. Times have changed, and you’re going to see the pinnacle of what wrestling has evolved into when we go mano a mano hombres. You couldn’t beat us on our worst night, which to be honest probably will be Sunday; I’m feeling fucked as shit like I’m a fuckin scat addict or some shit. I dunno, I’m warbling now, I don’t even know what I’m saying. This is how bad the two of you are, do you understand?! You are making me ramble. God fucking damn it.
This could have been summed up a hell of a lot quicker and I could have gotten my hair of the dog poppin a lot sooner if I would simply have said:
Angels of Death, bodybags are in season and you’re finna be the freshest fuckin kill. It’s over.
“Slam, the meaning of pain.
The way you faggots will die.”
Joey Flash, the Monarch of WCF, infamous butcher, will be seeing you for ya fuckin execution. Ciao for now bitches.
The Killing Joke
Joseph made his way further through the La Societa dinge as the sun was beginning to peak across the New York skyline, he stepped into the elevator to take him up to the top floor he felt a twinge of foreboding run down his spine. His mind flashed back to the time when his then unknown would be assassin had hired some goons to take him down in the name of ‘Allegri’. For months after he had entered a cat and mouse game with his fiancée to try and discern who the person is that wanted him dead so much. Rather than being his killer Alessandra was his own personal Angel of Death herself as she saved him from Vincenzo and the betrayers Eddie and Harris. That was the final time he let the word ‘trust’ enter his mind.
He had hoped that had nipped the problem in the bud but the one man who was behind everything was still out there, the one man who had orchestrated everything, planted the discord in Joey’s mind regarding Alessandra, the man who when Joey was in Vegas tried to frame him for the murder of a stripper, the man whom Joey only knew one thing. A name.
Sam.
Nothing more, nothing less. He had been reticent to tell Alessandra anything about the root of this for fear of endangering her not that she particularly needed any protection but he needed to work quietly and carefully, any slip ups could be the end of him. He had taken to hiding in plain sight nowadays, taking to the spotlight as often as possible in the media to try to diffuse any potential plots against him. Have people with you at all times, Imperium helped, they helped a hell of a lot.
The door to the elevator pinged and Joey stepped out onto the roof and was blinded by the impact of the sun on his eyes, he raised a hand to shield his peepers as he walked across the rooftop garden toward his office. He pulled the door to the office open and was immediately frozen in place as the sunlight shone through one of the large windows to project not only his shadow but a second shadow of a person in the room across the wall. He had been had, that chill, that foreboding, what was it Joey? ‘Have people with you at all times’? Well now he was completely alone, without a weapon and dead in his tracks.
With a creak Joey’s large chair turned round and the shadow was now manifest as the figure came into view.
Joey: You…
The person had a look like nothing he had ever seen before. No, he had seen it, once. The last time Joseph had seen that look was when he saw the true face of the woman he thought he knew more than any other, the look as Alessandra stepped past him and casually executed two unarmed men right in front of him. No more sweet housewife, no more elegant lady, welcome to a stone cold fucking killer. That was the expression that was bearing down on him right now, if only it was Alessandra.
The man swept his thick black hair from his face and deliberately placed a handgun onto Joey’s desk, a gaze awash with fury and pain came from the man’s eyes.
Joey: Occulo.
Occulo placed a hand round the gun and raised it toward Joey.
Occulo: We are going to have a little talk.