Post by Jonny Fly on Jan 8, 2012 15:00:07 GMT -5
[Begin Scene]
The scene fades in on the streets of New York City. We are following Jonny Fly as he walks down a crowded street on a blustery cold night in the city. Even though it’s night time the street we are on is well lit. The source of this illumination is from an endless stream of neon business signs off to Fly’s right. Fly pays little attention to the inviting signs and continues moving down the street at a brisk pace, weaving through patrons. A light snow is falling and the flakes are sticking to Fly’s black trench coat. His black ski cap also bears white specs that quickly appear and fade into the fabric. Fly continues walking with a purpose unaffected by the weather. He takes a quick peek over his right shoulder to spot the camera crew. He smirks at the sight of us weaving through the crowds on the street, trying to keep the lens on him but also free of the elements.
JF: It must be about time for a show, huh? WCF camera crews only come around toward the weekend it seems. I’m on my way to an important meeting, but if you can keep up and you can have your interview.
The cameraman hurriedly jogs forward and then pulls up alongside the WCF Television Champion. He stabilizes the camera and points it horizontally toward the side of Fly’s face. Fly looks right to see that he’s ready and begins to speak.
Where to start?
Oh, of course…as if there was really any question, I’m now the WCF Television Champion. Last week at One, Kaylyn James Evans became yet another number in a long, long line of them. It appears that my words before our match really got her riled up. She performed much better than I’ve seen from her since I got here; she was motivated. Yet, it didn’t matter, did it? This is the central argument I’ve made to everyone since I started with the WCF. What you do, what you think you can do, it’s not going to matter against me. Kaylyn takes a lot of pride in my Television Title. She went out of her way to defend my claims of the Television Title’s insignificance and her status within the WCF when she held it. She wanted nothing more than to have that title back. Yet, it’s mine. I won. I always win.
The only thing that is ever going to matter when someone is facing me is what I do inside a wrestling ring. When you are facing me, you are the underdog. You are the one who better bring everything you have into that ring…and then you better find a fuckin’ leprechaun to bring you some luck. There isn’t a man on this earth who is going to intimidate me into thinking they are something they are not. I can see through the bullshit. I’ve watched countless of these stiffs in the WCF puff out their chests and try to tell me, the newcomer, that they are something special. They have all these title wins. They are the guys to fear. They shouldn’t be messed with. The most hilarious of all these claims; that they can beat me. It’s punch line after punch line after punch line. Then they have to get in the ring with me and back up those claims…
For whatever reason Kaylyn James Evans told me last week that I should watch what I say about Torture. She apparently took offense to me telling him to get the fuck out of my business. That bitch capped off her ridiculous rant by explaining her statement; because he used to run this place and he’s the ‘type of guy’ who can shut me up. What about her, why can’t she do it herself? Why the sidebar about Torture? Did she just have a motherly moment where she wanted to share words of wisdom with poor Jonny Fly, WCF’s lost soul? Just by saying those things Kaylyn is telling all of us that she thinks he is something better than her. That’s why she lost. I can guarantee everyone who is going to see this tape this; when I lose, it’s not going to be to someone with that type of attitude.
I’ve beaten the best the wrestling industry has ever spawned. I’m not going to slink off in the night because some bitch tells me I’m too cocky and arrogant. That’s what breeds the competitor that hasn’t lost yet. There isn’t a statement, claim, or prediction that I have made since I joined that I haven’t backed up. I..am..that..good. I’m not going to fear anyone. I’m not going to allow anyone to tell me someone is better than me. I’m not going to recognize anyone’s past accomplishments that aren’t directly achieved because of beating me. That’s just not how this should work. I told this to Seth Lerch’s face three weeks ago; I’m the best wrestler he has. I’ll continue to go out and prove that every single fucking week. When Kaylyn wants to stop bowing to others success, and thinks she can give me a true challenge, tell her to give a call and I’ll gladly throw that ass around again.
I’m the Television Champion. That means every single week I put my belt on the line against some nondescript fuck. That could mean Kaylyn, that could mean her little friend Roy Speede, and apparently this week it means Switches the Clown . I wish all of them the best of luck. I mean that sincerely. I want them to have all of the luck in the world. I want someone..anyone..to push me for this belt. I’m skeptical that they even have the ability to comply with my wish, but who the hell knows. I only know one thing about Switches, that I went from having to face a vegetable for the TV Title, to a women, to now a god damn clown. At least he’s a sick motherfucker, in the book of Fly that actually earns a man some stripes. Though, I watched Switches at One get completely abused by Jam Willy Jesus. That motherfucker looked like he was dead at the end of the match. Is he even going to be able to ride his tricycle out to the ring next Sunday to face me?
Clowns ride tricycles right? Did I just make that up?
Nevertheless, hopefully Switches is able to wheel his ass down to the ring and get ready for another beating. I suppose the WCF decided to throw him a bone after the beatdown he took at One, but this is a terrible draw for him. He’s going from his…whateverthefuck…with Jam Willy…to me…a man who has made dominance a habit…in my first title defense. That’s a recipe of disaster for our resident clown. I must admit, I really can’t tell any of you if he wants the title or if he’d rather just parade around on television as a quirky motherfucker. Regardless, I certainly hope he doesn’t have any ambitions on leaving with the belt. It’s just not in the cards.
I suppose everyone will want me to comment on the War Games announcement for XIII. Odin Balfore has selected me to team with him, Gravedigger, and..someone…against Corey Black, D-Day, Greenfever, and Jay Price. Of course I was selected. Odin’s a competitor, he wants to win, and he wants revenge for losing his title to Corey Black at One. That’s why I’m in this match. I am the equalizer. I’m the counterbalance. I’m the weapon that evens any odds. Odin will get his revenge, and I’ll get a chance to brand my name into the World Champion and his team’s respective skulls. I have no clue who any of the guys are on Corey Black’s team other than D-Day, and he’s irrelevant. I can only assume that Black picked these retreads off some ‘who was relevant in 2009’ list. That’s how everything is done around here. I’m sure some noble dumbass will go Kaylyn James Evans on me and try to explain just how ‘important’ these guys are, but we’ve already been over just how much of a fuck I give about that, haven’t we?
Then again, I hardly know anything about my own team. Gravedigger is the default Hardcore Champion and apparently he and Seth Lerch have an alliance together. It hasn’t conflicting with anything I do on a nightly basis so I can care less about that. Rick Mad is..isn’t in the match anymore, is he? Replaced by someone named…!!!!Gage Gannon!!!! Not worried about it. Honestly, all I really know about Balfore is he’s the former World Champion. I assume these guys are all up to the task. It should be a fucking bloodbath, and there’s nothing I like more than that. Plus, it’ll give me a week off from the boredom that inevitably is going to come from having to defend this Television Title.
I guess the last thing I need to touch on and just briefly as he that’s all the amount of time he deserves, is Roy Speede’s influence in my match last week. I’m not quite sure where that came from; I seem to remember him being pretty fucking happy with me after I carried him in a tag match victory a few weeks ago. Speede went from saying I was going to be the next Television Champion, to trying to save Kaylyn from her predetermined fate. Apparently Roy Speede is bipolar. Instead of fighting Kaylyn he decided to show off his vagina, throw that match, and then try to help her defeat me. Does he realize the imagery that’s out there of him right now? He laid down versus Evans, then couldn’t even keep help her beat me. In regards to the pecking order of this company, Speede’s put himself firmly several rungs under not only me, but Kaylyn herself. Congratulations are in order, Roy. Good fucking plan!
At this point Fly has reached an intersection on the street. He steps down from the curb and as he does a black Lincoln Towncar comes screeching to a halt in front of him. The front passenger door and both back doors on the car open and three men dressed in black suits converge on Fly. Two of the men grab Fly by the arm while one positions himself in front. The man in front of Fly remarks:
Man: Jonny Fly? I need you to come with me.
Fly pulls his arm away from the other two men.
Whoever you are, you don’t want any of me. You’re in a public place, I’m a public figure, and I won’t go without a fight. Look behind me, that’s a camera..
Without a word said the two men let go of Fly and converge on us. The camera is knocked to the ground, but is still able to record the last images of the scene. The man in front of Fly has flashed a badge. Fly nods slowly and is escorted into the car. As the doors shut and the cars pulls away from the curb our scene fades.
[END]
[Begin Scene]
Our scene remerges inside of a room seemingly straight off the set of a televised cop show. This square room has just one table in it. At that table sits Jonny Fly. Opposite of Fly is one empty chair and behind the chair is a mirror that runs the length of the entire wall. Fly sits at the table wearing a gray button up shirt with the long sleeves rolled up to his elbows, casual black dress slacks, black dress shoes, and a necklace with the initials ‘JF’ on the pendant. His black trench coat sits draped over the chair behind him. Fly sits silently staring straight into the mirror in front of him with his hands folded in a ball on the table. After about twenty seconds of this scene the door opens and a man walks into the room and takes the seat opposite of Fly. This is the same man we were able to get a few shots from in the previous scene. He stands about six-foot tall, well-groomed, and appears to be around fifty years old. He’s dressed in an all-black suit with an FBI badge tucked into the front pocket. He takes of his suit jacket, folds it onto the table, and then turns his attention to Fly. He hands Fly a folder and begins to talk.
You ever heard of the RICO act, Mr. Fly?
Fly rolls his eyes, but says nothing.
It’s a federal law that provides people like me the ability to charge leaders of a criminal organization with crimes committed by other members of the organization. At least, that was its original intent. It’s been used in other capacities over the last twenty years.
Fly continues to sit silently.
Maybe you’re wondering what that has to do with you. In fact, it has a lot to do with you. If you open that folder you’ll see the picture of two men who I was pursuing charges against under the RICO act. Go ahead, open the folder.
Fly doesn’t move his gaze from the man across from him, ignoring the request.
Jonny, this meeting isn’t intended to be threatening. This is merely a conversation, but I do need you cooperation if you want it to remain as such.
Fly finally speaks.
I was on my way to a pretty important meeting. Now that you have me here it’s pretty fucking impolite to not introduce yourself.
The man across from Fly smiles and responds.
You’re absolutely right. My name is Robert Dawkins. I was specially appointed by Director of the FBI to lead a task force aimed at stopping organized crime in New York City. I’ve brought you here because I know your past with a certain organization that operates here in the city.
What the fuck are you talking about?
Agent Dawkins opens up the folder to reveal two photos. He sets each in front of Fly. The first picture is that of Jack Ridder, mutilated. The other is John Ridder, lying on the ground in an alley, face bloodied from a gunshot hole in his forehead. Fly looks over the pictures and smiles.
We know that you are responsible for those bodies a year and a half ago.
No, I’m not. I’m just glad to see that they got what they deserved, that’s all.
You don’t have to admit it to me, Mr. Fly. That’s not what this is about. I’m not going to argue that they didn’t deserve what became of them. I’m glad they are dead. However, their untimely deaths have caused some…complications…ever since. Jack Ridder built his empire here in New York City on the bankroll of La Casa Nostro, a nationwide alliance of criminals separated by geographical regions. Through the years the New York City region became one of the central hubs of La Casa’s activity. The work my unit has done over the past several years was about to culminate in shutting the Ridder’s down until…you happened.
Dawkins gets up from his seat and begins to pace back and forth, continuing to talk.
I had an agent planted with the son, John, for over three years. Had…as in he’s dead now. He was killed on the same alley that John was a year and a half ago…by you.
Fly’s squints his eyes and looks down.
I know you killed him because he reported to me that they had found you and that you were going to be killed. The only reason my agent was in that alley the night he was killed was to sabotage Ridder’s plans…to save you. Do you understand what I am telling you?
Fly looks back up and smirks.
That you were full of shit when you said this meeting wasn’t going to be threatening?
Dawkins nods his head ‘no’ and then returns to his seat. He takes a deep sigh.
I know your profile, Jonny. You’re defiant and stubborn to a fault. You’ve built up an impenetrable wall around you because of personal betrayals. You don’t trust authority figures because of your upbringing. You became a professional wrestler because it’s your only source of self-worth. You act like the tough guy at this table but deep inside, that’s not you, that’s not who you want to be. This might sting your pride a little bit, but you are a pawn in this game. This is much bigger than you.
So then can I leave?
Look, the goal of our operation was to arrest Jack Ridder and get him to turn on his superiors within La Casa Nostro. With the Ridder’s dead they’ll undoubtedly need to be replaced. We need to make sure that person can be tied to the Ridder’s, that he was a part of their organization, or else our entire investigation into them will have been for nothing. You’re here because I’m giving you a job to do. There are still remnants of the Ridder’s organization operating independently around the city. These individuals are jockeying for power against each other; trying to make an impression with La Casa. They need that funding to begin their own enterprise. We can’t allow this. We need them to become organized again, and only then can we tie them to the Ridder’s, bring them in, and hopefully extract information from them in regards to La Casa.
That sounds great, but you’re not my dad. Nobody can make me do anything.
You really don’t have a choice, Jonny. Agent Gregory, you remember him, has been taped on record explaining your involvement with the death of Jack and John Ridder.
Fly interrupts.
Is he? Then you know who killed your agent.
Don’t blame him, Jonny. He took the same deal with me that you will. Know that you, Jonny Fly, can be considered a criminal organization all on your own. You’ve ordered others to commit crimes for you. You’ve even coerced them. That’s right; I know your history dating all the way back to 2003. One count of coercion is 20 years in prison minimum. There are multiple accounts you can be charged with. Add that to the evidence I have on you for the murders of Jack and John Ridder and you’ll be drawing pictures in an eight by eight cell for the rest of your life. Now, again, all of this in the grand scheme of things means nothing to me. My job is much too broad to bother with some wrestler who off’d crime lords because of a personal vendetta. However, I want La Casa, and you can help with me, and you will help me…or I have no choice but to make you pay for it.
It seems you have it all figured out, except you’re really not following your own profile.
What do you mean?
You said it yourself, I’m fiercely defiant, and don’t trust authority. Plus, I know guys like you all too well. This isn’t about stopping organized crime in this city. You don’t give a fuck about New York. I’ve lived in the slums of this place at twelve years old. I know that ‘cleaning up’ those areas and stopping the crime within them is all political bullshit. Nobody does a god damn thing in this world that doesn’t personally benefit them. This is strictly about your career, you want the notoriety of being the guy who ‘ends’ the Ridder’s and La Casa. You want to be the fucking hero; and you want to use me to get there. You’re going to have to do a lot better than the threat of jail time for me to be your little monkey.
What’s it going to take, Fly? What do you want from me?
Agent Gregory betrayed the bureau. That’s not on me. I’m the fuckin’ victim here. He’s the one who sabotaged the investigation into the Ridder’s. Everything that happened after that was a result of his action, an FBI employee, one of you! I trusted you guys to do your job, and instead, I was betrayed. Now you want me to help you? Go..to..hell.
Fly stands up, towering over the table and glaring down at Agent Dawkins.
I came here voluntarily, and I’m leaving voluntarily. This conversation is over, and you better think long and hard about whether you want to carry this out any further. Know this, I’ll never go quietly, and I’m a brutal motherfucker.
Fly begins walking toward the door of the room when Dawkins stands up.
I’m prepared to offer you full immunity. Complete protection from any crimes you may have committed in the past…ever. This truly is the way to end what you have gone through. It’s the…only way.
Fly stops and turns around slowly. He glares at Dawkins who makes a motion toward the mirror behind him. Quickly afterward the door opens and another agent walks in with a folder, hands it to Fly, and exits the room.
Inside is the paperwork, already filled out with my signature and the signature of the Director of the FBI. Take a look yourself. I understand it may be hard to trust me, Fly, but I want to work with you on this. I don’t want to go down any other road, but I have bosses who won’t allow otherwise. I’m putting all the cards on the table for you. Our only leverage is the ability to have you locked up forever...and I’m throwing that away here. You are the one person who can unify what is left of the Ridder’s organization. This could be your greatest moment, or you downfall. You can finally start doing something good with your….talents.
Fly walks back over to the table and sets the folder down. He opens it up and begins looking through the paperwork. He takes a few minutes inspecting over every document inside without saying a word. Eventually he looks back up at Agent Dawkins.
How exactly do you propose I go about this?
That’s for you to decide. Whatever you do, you will have the backing and support of my unit behind you. We expect communication back and forth, other than that, you know the job. Those guys want you dead. It shouldn’t be too hard to unify them behind that mission. We’ll act as big brother and protect you.
Fly looks back down at the papers, and then holds out his hand. Dawkins responds by handing him a pen. Fly flips through each paper in the folder and signs his name where provided on each sheet. He closes the folder and hands it, with the pen, back to Agent Dawkins.
I’ll do it. This IS the end, though. I swear to you, if this isn't legitimate, I will end you all. Think about this…you’re not the only one with people on tape.
Fly reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tape recorder. He clicks the ‘off’ button on it and smiles.
I also have one of these with Agent Gregory as the star. I’ll organize what is left of Ridder’s organization, and then I don’t ever want to see one of you suits again for the rest of my life...or I leak this tape. Do you understand?
I do. Thank you, Jonny. You’re doing a bigger service than you know.
Fly stares at Agent Dawkins, expressionless. He doesn’t respond, and instead moves toward the door and exits the room. The scene fades out as the door closes.
[END]
The scene fades in on the streets of New York City. We are following Jonny Fly as he walks down a crowded street on a blustery cold night in the city. Even though it’s night time the street we are on is well lit. The source of this illumination is from an endless stream of neon business signs off to Fly’s right. Fly pays little attention to the inviting signs and continues moving down the street at a brisk pace, weaving through patrons. A light snow is falling and the flakes are sticking to Fly’s black trench coat. His black ski cap also bears white specs that quickly appear and fade into the fabric. Fly continues walking with a purpose unaffected by the weather. He takes a quick peek over his right shoulder to spot the camera crew. He smirks at the sight of us weaving through the crowds on the street, trying to keep the lens on him but also free of the elements.
JF: It must be about time for a show, huh? WCF camera crews only come around toward the weekend it seems. I’m on my way to an important meeting, but if you can keep up and you can have your interview.
The cameraman hurriedly jogs forward and then pulls up alongside the WCF Television Champion. He stabilizes the camera and points it horizontally toward the side of Fly’s face. Fly looks right to see that he’s ready and begins to speak.
Where to start?
Oh, of course…as if there was really any question, I’m now the WCF Television Champion. Last week at One, Kaylyn James Evans became yet another number in a long, long line of them. It appears that my words before our match really got her riled up. She performed much better than I’ve seen from her since I got here; she was motivated. Yet, it didn’t matter, did it? This is the central argument I’ve made to everyone since I started with the WCF. What you do, what you think you can do, it’s not going to matter against me. Kaylyn takes a lot of pride in my Television Title. She went out of her way to defend my claims of the Television Title’s insignificance and her status within the WCF when she held it. She wanted nothing more than to have that title back. Yet, it’s mine. I won. I always win.
The only thing that is ever going to matter when someone is facing me is what I do inside a wrestling ring. When you are facing me, you are the underdog. You are the one who better bring everything you have into that ring…and then you better find a fuckin’ leprechaun to bring you some luck. There isn’t a man on this earth who is going to intimidate me into thinking they are something they are not. I can see through the bullshit. I’ve watched countless of these stiffs in the WCF puff out their chests and try to tell me, the newcomer, that they are something special. They have all these title wins. They are the guys to fear. They shouldn’t be messed with. The most hilarious of all these claims; that they can beat me. It’s punch line after punch line after punch line. Then they have to get in the ring with me and back up those claims…
For whatever reason Kaylyn James Evans told me last week that I should watch what I say about Torture. She apparently took offense to me telling him to get the fuck out of my business. That bitch capped off her ridiculous rant by explaining her statement; because he used to run this place and he’s the ‘type of guy’ who can shut me up. What about her, why can’t she do it herself? Why the sidebar about Torture? Did she just have a motherly moment where she wanted to share words of wisdom with poor Jonny Fly, WCF’s lost soul? Just by saying those things Kaylyn is telling all of us that she thinks he is something better than her. That’s why she lost. I can guarantee everyone who is going to see this tape this; when I lose, it’s not going to be to someone with that type of attitude.
I’ve beaten the best the wrestling industry has ever spawned. I’m not going to slink off in the night because some bitch tells me I’m too cocky and arrogant. That’s what breeds the competitor that hasn’t lost yet. There isn’t a statement, claim, or prediction that I have made since I joined that I haven’t backed up. I..am..that..good. I’m not going to fear anyone. I’m not going to allow anyone to tell me someone is better than me. I’m not going to recognize anyone’s past accomplishments that aren’t directly achieved because of beating me. That’s just not how this should work. I told this to Seth Lerch’s face three weeks ago; I’m the best wrestler he has. I’ll continue to go out and prove that every single fucking week. When Kaylyn wants to stop bowing to others success, and thinks she can give me a true challenge, tell her to give a call and I’ll gladly throw that ass around again.
I’m the Television Champion. That means every single week I put my belt on the line against some nondescript fuck. That could mean Kaylyn, that could mean her little friend Roy Speede, and apparently this week it means Switches the Clown . I wish all of them the best of luck. I mean that sincerely. I want them to have all of the luck in the world. I want someone..anyone..to push me for this belt. I’m skeptical that they even have the ability to comply with my wish, but who the hell knows. I only know one thing about Switches, that I went from having to face a vegetable for the TV Title, to a women, to now a god damn clown. At least he’s a sick motherfucker, in the book of Fly that actually earns a man some stripes. Though, I watched Switches at One get completely abused by Jam Willy Jesus. That motherfucker looked like he was dead at the end of the match. Is he even going to be able to ride his tricycle out to the ring next Sunday to face me?
Clowns ride tricycles right? Did I just make that up?
Nevertheless, hopefully Switches is able to wheel his ass down to the ring and get ready for another beating. I suppose the WCF decided to throw him a bone after the beatdown he took at One, but this is a terrible draw for him. He’s going from his…whateverthefuck…with Jam Willy…to me…a man who has made dominance a habit…in my first title defense. That’s a recipe of disaster for our resident clown. I must admit, I really can’t tell any of you if he wants the title or if he’d rather just parade around on television as a quirky motherfucker. Regardless, I certainly hope he doesn’t have any ambitions on leaving with the belt. It’s just not in the cards.
I suppose everyone will want me to comment on the War Games announcement for XIII. Odin Balfore has selected me to team with him, Gravedigger, and..someone…against Corey Black, D-Day, Greenfever, and Jay Price. Of course I was selected. Odin’s a competitor, he wants to win, and he wants revenge for losing his title to Corey Black at One. That’s why I’m in this match. I am the equalizer. I’m the counterbalance. I’m the weapon that evens any odds. Odin will get his revenge, and I’ll get a chance to brand my name into the World Champion and his team’s respective skulls. I have no clue who any of the guys are on Corey Black’s team other than D-Day, and he’s irrelevant. I can only assume that Black picked these retreads off some ‘who was relevant in 2009’ list. That’s how everything is done around here. I’m sure some noble dumbass will go Kaylyn James Evans on me and try to explain just how ‘important’ these guys are, but we’ve already been over just how much of a fuck I give about that, haven’t we?
Then again, I hardly know anything about my own team. Gravedigger is the default Hardcore Champion and apparently he and Seth Lerch have an alliance together. It hasn’t conflicting with anything I do on a nightly basis so I can care less about that. Rick Mad is..isn’t in the match anymore, is he? Replaced by someone named…!!!!Gage Gannon!!!! Not worried about it. Honestly, all I really know about Balfore is he’s the former World Champion. I assume these guys are all up to the task. It should be a fucking bloodbath, and there’s nothing I like more than that. Plus, it’ll give me a week off from the boredom that inevitably is going to come from having to defend this Television Title.
I guess the last thing I need to touch on and just briefly as he that’s all the amount of time he deserves, is Roy Speede’s influence in my match last week. I’m not quite sure where that came from; I seem to remember him being pretty fucking happy with me after I carried him in a tag match victory a few weeks ago. Speede went from saying I was going to be the next Television Champion, to trying to save Kaylyn from her predetermined fate. Apparently Roy Speede is bipolar. Instead of fighting Kaylyn he decided to show off his vagina, throw that match, and then try to help her defeat me. Does he realize the imagery that’s out there of him right now? He laid down versus Evans, then couldn’t even keep help her beat me. In regards to the pecking order of this company, Speede’s put himself firmly several rungs under not only me, but Kaylyn herself. Congratulations are in order, Roy. Good fucking plan!
At this point Fly has reached an intersection on the street. He steps down from the curb and as he does a black Lincoln Towncar comes screeching to a halt in front of him. The front passenger door and both back doors on the car open and three men dressed in black suits converge on Fly. Two of the men grab Fly by the arm while one positions himself in front. The man in front of Fly remarks:
Man: Jonny Fly? I need you to come with me.
Fly pulls his arm away from the other two men.
Whoever you are, you don’t want any of me. You’re in a public place, I’m a public figure, and I won’t go without a fight. Look behind me, that’s a camera..
Without a word said the two men let go of Fly and converge on us. The camera is knocked to the ground, but is still able to record the last images of the scene. The man in front of Fly has flashed a badge. Fly nods slowly and is escorted into the car. As the doors shut and the cars pulls away from the curb our scene fades.
[END]
[Begin Scene]
Our scene remerges inside of a room seemingly straight off the set of a televised cop show. This square room has just one table in it. At that table sits Jonny Fly. Opposite of Fly is one empty chair and behind the chair is a mirror that runs the length of the entire wall. Fly sits at the table wearing a gray button up shirt with the long sleeves rolled up to his elbows, casual black dress slacks, black dress shoes, and a necklace with the initials ‘JF’ on the pendant. His black trench coat sits draped over the chair behind him. Fly sits silently staring straight into the mirror in front of him with his hands folded in a ball on the table. After about twenty seconds of this scene the door opens and a man walks into the room and takes the seat opposite of Fly. This is the same man we were able to get a few shots from in the previous scene. He stands about six-foot tall, well-groomed, and appears to be around fifty years old. He’s dressed in an all-black suit with an FBI badge tucked into the front pocket. He takes of his suit jacket, folds it onto the table, and then turns his attention to Fly. He hands Fly a folder and begins to talk.
You ever heard of the RICO act, Mr. Fly?
Fly rolls his eyes, but says nothing.
It’s a federal law that provides people like me the ability to charge leaders of a criminal organization with crimes committed by other members of the organization. At least, that was its original intent. It’s been used in other capacities over the last twenty years.
Fly continues to sit silently.
Maybe you’re wondering what that has to do with you. In fact, it has a lot to do with you. If you open that folder you’ll see the picture of two men who I was pursuing charges against under the RICO act. Go ahead, open the folder.
Fly doesn’t move his gaze from the man across from him, ignoring the request.
Jonny, this meeting isn’t intended to be threatening. This is merely a conversation, but I do need you cooperation if you want it to remain as such.
Fly finally speaks.
I was on my way to a pretty important meeting. Now that you have me here it’s pretty fucking impolite to not introduce yourself.
The man across from Fly smiles and responds.
You’re absolutely right. My name is Robert Dawkins. I was specially appointed by Director of the FBI to lead a task force aimed at stopping organized crime in New York City. I’ve brought you here because I know your past with a certain organization that operates here in the city.
What the fuck are you talking about?
Agent Dawkins opens up the folder to reveal two photos. He sets each in front of Fly. The first picture is that of Jack Ridder, mutilated. The other is John Ridder, lying on the ground in an alley, face bloodied from a gunshot hole in his forehead. Fly looks over the pictures and smiles.
We know that you are responsible for those bodies a year and a half ago.
No, I’m not. I’m just glad to see that they got what they deserved, that’s all.
You don’t have to admit it to me, Mr. Fly. That’s not what this is about. I’m not going to argue that they didn’t deserve what became of them. I’m glad they are dead. However, their untimely deaths have caused some…complications…ever since. Jack Ridder built his empire here in New York City on the bankroll of La Casa Nostro, a nationwide alliance of criminals separated by geographical regions. Through the years the New York City region became one of the central hubs of La Casa’s activity. The work my unit has done over the past several years was about to culminate in shutting the Ridder’s down until…you happened.
Dawkins gets up from his seat and begins to pace back and forth, continuing to talk.
I had an agent planted with the son, John, for over three years. Had…as in he’s dead now. He was killed on the same alley that John was a year and a half ago…by you.
Fly’s squints his eyes and looks down.
I know you killed him because he reported to me that they had found you and that you were going to be killed. The only reason my agent was in that alley the night he was killed was to sabotage Ridder’s plans…to save you. Do you understand what I am telling you?
Fly looks back up and smirks.
That you were full of shit when you said this meeting wasn’t going to be threatening?
Dawkins nods his head ‘no’ and then returns to his seat. He takes a deep sigh.
I know your profile, Jonny. You’re defiant and stubborn to a fault. You’ve built up an impenetrable wall around you because of personal betrayals. You don’t trust authority figures because of your upbringing. You became a professional wrestler because it’s your only source of self-worth. You act like the tough guy at this table but deep inside, that’s not you, that’s not who you want to be. This might sting your pride a little bit, but you are a pawn in this game. This is much bigger than you.
So then can I leave?
Look, the goal of our operation was to arrest Jack Ridder and get him to turn on his superiors within La Casa Nostro. With the Ridder’s dead they’ll undoubtedly need to be replaced. We need to make sure that person can be tied to the Ridder’s, that he was a part of their organization, or else our entire investigation into them will have been for nothing. You’re here because I’m giving you a job to do. There are still remnants of the Ridder’s organization operating independently around the city. These individuals are jockeying for power against each other; trying to make an impression with La Casa. They need that funding to begin their own enterprise. We can’t allow this. We need them to become organized again, and only then can we tie them to the Ridder’s, bring them in, and hopefully extract information from them in regards to La Casa.
That sounds great, but you’re not my dad. Nobody can make me do anything.
You really don’t have a choice, Jonny. Agent Gregory, you remember him, has been taped on record explaining your involvement with the death of Jack and John Ridder.
Fly interrupts.
Is he? Then you know who killed your agent.
Don’t blame him, Jonny. He took the same deal with me that you will. Know that you, Jonny Fly, can be considered a criminal organization all on your own. You’ve ordered others to commit crimes for you. You’ve even coerced them. That’s right; I know your history dating all the way back to 2003. One count of coercion is 20 years in prison minimum. There are multiple accounts you can be charged with. Add that to the evidence I have on you for the murders of Jack and John Ridder and you’ll be drawing pictures in an eight by eight cell for the rest of your life. Now, again, all of this in the grand scheme of things means nothing to me. My job is much too broad to bother with some wrestler who off’d crime lords because of a personal vendetta. However, I want La Casa, and you can help with me, and you will help me…or I have no choice but to make you pay for it.
It seems you have it all figured out, except you’re really not following your own profile.
What do you mean?
You said it yourself, I’m fiercely defiant, and don’t trust authority. Plus, I know guys like you all too well. This isn’t about stopping organized crime in this city. You don’t give a fuck about New York. I’ve lived in the slums of this place at twelve years old. I know that ‘cleaning up’ those areas and stopping the crime within them is all political bullshit. Nobody does a god damn thing in this world that doesn’t personally benefit them. This is strictly about your career, you want the notoriety of being the guy who ‘ends’ the Ridder’s and La Casa. You want to be the fucking hero; and you want to use me to get there. You’re going to have to do a lot better than the threat of jail time for me to be your little monkey.
What’s it going to take, Fly? What do you want from me?
Agent Gregory betrayed the bureau. That’s not on me. I’m the fuckin’ victim here. He’s the one who sabotaged the investigation into the Ridder’s. Everything that happened after that was a result of his action, an FBI employee, one of you! I trusted you guys to do your job, and instead, I was betrayed. Now you want me to help you? Go..to..hell.
Fly stands up, towering over the table and glaring down at Agent Dawkins.
I came here voluntarily, and I’m leaving voluntarily. This conversation is over, and you better think long and hard about whether you want to carry this out any further. Know this, I’ll never go quietly, and I’m a brutal motherfucker.
Fly begins walking toward the door of the room when Dawkins stands up.
I’m prepared to offer you full immunity. Complete protection from any crimes you may have committed in the past…ever. This truly is the way to end what you have gone through. It’s the…only way.
Fly stops and turns around slowly. He glares at Dawkins who makes a motion toward the mirror behind him. Quickly afterward the door opens and another agent walks in with a folder, hands it to Fly, and exits the room.
Inside is the paperwork, already filled out with my signature and the signature of the Director of the FBI. Take a look yourself. I understand it may be hard to trust me, Fly, but I want to work with you on this. I don’t want to go down any other road, but I have bosses who won’t allow otherwise. I’m putting all the cards on the table for you. Our only leverage is the ability to have you locked up forever...and I’m throwing that away here. You are the one person who can unify what is left of the Ridder’s organization. This could be your greatest moment, or you downfall. You can finally start doing something good with your….talents.
Fly walks back over to the table and sets the folder down. He opens it up and begins looking through the paperwork. He takes a few minutes inspecting over every document inside without saying a word. Eventually he looks back up at Agent Dawkins.
How exactly do you propose I go about this?
That’s for you to decide. Whatever you do, you will have the backing and support of my unit behind you. We expect communication back and forth, other than that, you know the job. Those guys want you dead. It shouldn’t be too hard to unify them behind that mission. We’ll act as big brother and protect you.
Fly looks back down at the papers, and then holds out his hand. Dawkins responds by handing him a pen. Fly flips through each paper in the folder and signs his name where provided on each sheet. He closes the folder and hands it, with the pen, back to Agent Dawkins.
I’ll do it. This IS the end, though. I swear to you, if this isn't legitimate, I will end you all. Think about this…you’re not the only one with people on tape.
Fly reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tape recorder. He clicks the ‘off’ button on it and smiles.
I also have one of these with Agent Gregory as the star. I’ll organize what is left of Ridder’s organization, and then I don’t ever want to see one of you suits again for the rest of my life...or I leak this tape. Do you understand?
I do. Thank you, Jonny. You’re doing a bigger service than you know.
Fly stares at Agent Dawkins, expressionless. He doesn’t respond, and instead moves toward the door and exits the room. The scene fades out as the door closes.
[END]
