Post by Jonny Fly on Jan 29, 2012 17:42:31 GMT -5
thedynastyjonnyfly.webs.com/fly4.htm
SCENE BEGINS
We are introduced to a board room. This is the former board room of Jack Ridder’s organization located in New York City. The room features one all glass wall with an entrance door cut out in the center. Above the door is a decal that now reads ‘The Russo Organization.’ Inside the room is a large wooden table with around 15 seats set up around it. In each chair sits a man. We scan to the head of the table and immediately spot Anthony Russo. Russo is the former right hand man of John Ridder and the organization's 'enforcer.' He was introduced to us last week as the man who kidnapped Jonny Fly from Sunday Slam and was last seen firing a bullet into Fly’s chest in a shipping crate at the Philadelphia docks. Our scene begins as he talks to those in the room with him.
Anthony Russo: I want you all to know exactly why you are here today. I want you all to understand how we have got to this point. Allow me the privilege of taking you back to nearly six years ago…
Six years ago all of you were all board members of Jack Ridder’s Organization. You, me, all of us...we owned this city. This organization was bringing in over $300 million dollars a year with our drug, gambling, and money laundering businesses. We had the backing of the most powerful criminal organization on this continent, La Casa Nostro. Then old Jack decided it was time to start ceding power to his son, John. You all know John, rest his soul. He was one of my best friends. John came in with all of these big ideas on how to spread our influence even further. One of those ideas was to create a ‘Cash Loans’ arm of the organization.
The thought was somewhat brilliant, I must admit. John wanted to create this company that would give out loans at an absurdly, absolutely illegal, high interest rate. This company would be marketed by our drug pushers on the streets and our gambling firms. If someone didn’t have the cash to feed their addictions, no problem, go to our loan company and you can get the money, no questions asked. If they didn’t pay back the money, well, you all know how we handle that. We got our money one way or another. Profit soared during the first three quarters of business. We were on track for a $500 million dollar year. Then, Jonny Fly entered our lives.
Fly, as you all know, was a professional wrestler. He was in the midst of accusations that he had shot and killed three men outside of the Key Arena in Seattle, Washington. On top of it, he was facing charges here in New York City due to a cache of weapons found at his mansion, and was also under investigation for the sudden death of a former TNT Wrestling Commissioner, Rian Calloway. Fly needed money for his legal fees. He needed $3 million dollars, to be exact. John loaned him the money, after all, our motto was no questions asked, right? However, Jonny wasn’t our normal type of lendee. He wasn’t into drugs and he wasn’t a compulsive gambler.
Worse, Fly did everything he was supposed to do. He paid back the full sum of the money he borrowed from us in two months. That’s when he was informed that had an outstanding balance of another $3 million dollars; interest on the loan he took out. John never did any background on Fly, and it wasn’t until then did they find out exactly who he was. Fly is, or should I say was, a street-bred narcissist. In fact, he was the biggest narcissist I’ve ever encountered. Please realize, narcissism isn’t always what it’s portrayed in movies and television shows. Fly’s narcissism was, actually, healthy. He had high self-confidence, he enjoyed power, he has values, and always carried through with his plans. There was only one trait he shared with destructive narcissists. Unfortunately for us, Fly lacked all inhibitions. There were no lines he wouldn’t cross to pursue his self-righteousness.
Fly refused to pay back the interest. He gave us only one offer. He told John in their first meeting that he would only pay $100,000 of the interest he owed. He encouraged John to take the money and told him that he would never get a dollar more. John saw this as his first confrontation since his father had ceded him power, and he decided to take it personal. He wanted to make a point, to all of you sitting here today, that he wouldn’t be pushed around, that he was worthy of his position at the top of the organization. John began sending some of our enforcers to check up on Fly, promising physical harm if he didn’t pay. Then he told those same people to rough up Fly, only to watch them get roughed up themselves. Then he hired a wrestler to infiltrate TNT wrestling and feed information back to the organization. Information that we would then use to blackmail Fly into giving us the money. Fly thwarted every attempt...and then started fighting back.
The first thing he did was go public on just who we were. Profits plummeted, so John then decided to hire hitmen to solve the problem. The hitmen failed miserably. They were all killed by Kent Strong, Fly’s longtime manager. Then John got to Kent, turned him, and made Kent take out Fly. Fly killed Kent, instead. Then John got to Mark Vincent, a long-time wrestling partner of Fly’s, had Mark attempt to kill Fly. Fly killed Vincent instead. It was at this time Fly ceded power to TNT Wrestling. He became too paranoid to show up at shows. Everywhere he went, we were there. Everyone he knew, we tried to turn against him. So Fly went to the FBI and made a deal. In exchange for his testimony against each and every one of us, Fly wouldn’t serve jail time for his crimes. He was ushered into witness protection until an investigation was concluded against us.
This enraged John. He was far past the point of no return, he wanted blood. He wanted Fly eliminated. He used every single resource our organization had to find Fly, and we never did. Finally, he was able to turn an FBI agent and had him convince his superiors that Fly was the person that should be investigated. Those protecting Fly were removed from the investigation and the powers that be in the FBI decided to just let Fly rot where he was. John wanted blood, but he settled for isolation. More importantly, John began focusing once again on making this organization profitable. It was like old times for us, we had power, we were feared, and we were making money. Then, Jonny Fly escaped from witness protection.
Fly immediately came back to New York City seeking justice. Somehow, that motherfucker figured out what we had done to him. Within weeks our beloved Jack Ridder was found dead. Days later Fly ended the saga by killing John Ridder, with the help of the very same FBI agent we hired to turn the investigation into the Ridder’s. The old organization died that day. We all went our separate ways. We all struggled, fighting each other for business. It made me sick. Fly went back to his wrestling career, and we all went broke. That’s not acceptable.
My son Michael and I began looking into ways to make our situation better. The answer was simple. We needed to form our own organization. More importantly, we needed to punish Jonny Fly for what he’s done to us. I’m happy to report, that’s been done. Jonny Fly is dead.
There are shuffling sounds as everyone looks back and forth at each other. The individuals sitting in the seats around the table lean in as Russo continues talking.
If there is one good thing that can come from his death, it’s that we are all back here in this room. We are united once again. Today, I’m asking for all of you to join me, to join Michael. Let’s get back to doing what we do best.
As Russo has been talking there has been a folder sitting on the table in front of him. He slides the folder into the middle of the table.
Inside that folder are your contracts. Take a look at them.
The men slowly converge on the folder, each man taking a piece of paper out to read. As they read, Russo continues talking.
Profit is shared equally between all of us. That includes me, and that includes Michael. We won’t take a penny more than any of you. As has always been the case, the organization simply serves as a legislative body between the members, provides security and protection, and creates a strategic plan. Gentleman, this is what you want. This is what you need. Sign the contract.
The people in the office look at Russo, then around the room. Finally, one man reaches for one of the pens sitting on the table and signs the contract. Slowly, others follow suit until everyone in the room has signed the contract and set it back in the folder. Russo smiles.
We should celebrate tonight. This is a new beginning for us.
Suddenly, a loud click is heard. A man has pushed through the crowd in the back of the room. He holds out a tape recorder. Russo looks at him in a confused manner, before speaking.
What is this?
The man answers.
This is commonly referred to as a set-up.
As the man issues his remark the sound of footsteps click-clacking on the tile floor are heard from outside of the office. Russo and those in the room look through the glass to notice a line of armed FBI agents converging on the conference room. There are upwards of fifteen FBI agents now in the conference room and they begin to circle the table, surrounding it with their weapons drawn. Lastly, one more man enters the room. This man is familiar to us as Agent Robert Dawkins, scene before in ‘Can’t Escape the Past.’ It’s been explained to us previously that Dawkins has been specially appointed by the Director of the FBI to lead a task force into shutting down organized crime in New York City. Dawkins stares around the room with a smile on his face before setting his eyes on Anthony Russo at the head of the table.
Russo. It is great to see you!
Russo stares at Dawkins but doesn’t comment.
It looks like I’m interrupting a pretty important meeting. I saw the sign on the door there, looks like you’ve raised your status in the world a little bit.
Again, Anthony Russo says nothing. The man with the tape recorder walks toward Russo and hands it to him.
Ah, that pesky thing called evidence.
Dawkins walks toward the table and picks up the folder. He sorts through the papers and the looks around the room. He smiles, and then tucks the folder away in his jacket. Finally, Russo breaks his silence.
You can't take that!
Dawkins walks over toward Russo.
I can take whatever I want. This is evidence. All of you are under arrest.
All you have is intent; we’ll plead out and be right back in this room in six months.
What I have is a criminal organization, and the documentation in my jacket and on this tape recorder to prove it. I can charge every single one of you with the same crime. Furthermore, my unit has been putting together a case on each and every person in this room since 2003.
Russo laughs.
The same crime, you say? Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the crime?
The kidnapping and murder of Jonny Fly.
Russo’s face turns blank. You can almost see his thoughts appear…how does he know…? Russo turns away from Dawkins and takes a seat in his chair. He looks back up at Dawkins.
You’ll have to prove that. There is nothing on your tape that incriminates me.
Don't you worry about that. I'll prove it.
Russo cocks his head to the side, wondering what Agent Dawkins means. Suddenly, footsteps are heard again outside of the room. Everyone turns to see a familiar face enter the room.
Jonny Fly.
Fly enters the room looking as smug as we’ve ever seen him. He’s grinning from ear to ear and begins clapping his hands. He begins walking around the table making eye contact with every single person sitting down. He stops next to Russo.
I am one hard motherfucker to kill, right?
Fly proceeds to take off his shirt revealing one fairly dark circle in his chest with a reddish ring around it. We can clearly see stitching in the wound. Fly turns so that everyone in the room can see before turning back to Russo.
Three shots, one bullet wound. Did I just blow your mind?
Fly moves in towards Russo, who has absolutely no movement, no expression, just a blank stare looking out at nobody in particular. Fly whispers into Russo’s ear.
What did I tell you? I…will…never…lose.
Fly smiles, and then moves away from Russo and turns his attention back to the group in the room.
You stubborn fucks should have got this through your head years ago; I’m Jonny Fly. I'm everlasting, indestructible, hell, I may be borderline immortal! You guys are in for a treat, though. I still have one more magic trick to show you.
All of a sudden another sound of footsteps are heard click-clacking outside the room. The group of FBI agents in front of the door move to the side allowing us to see who has just entered the room.
He doesn’t need an introduction to this group, but since I’m fuckin’ on fire right now…Ladies and Gentleman, I introduce to you your old boss…Jack Ridder…alive and in the flesh!
Ridder stands in the doorway wearing a suit and a brimmed hat. The older godfather of the Ridder organization scans the room looking at his former members. He rests his eyes on Anthony Russo and then looks toward Agent Dawkins. Agent Dawkins looks horrified at the sight of both Fly and Jack Ridder alive. Fly looks over at Dawkins.
This is bullshit, isn’t it?! NOBODY is dead around here! We can’t have that, can we?
Fly reaches behind him, underneath his shirt, and pulls out a gun. He quickly aims it at Agent Dawkins and shoots. Dawkins is hit right between the eyes and falls to the floor. Fly then moves the gun over to Anthony Russo and shoots again. Russo is hit in the forehead and goes tumbling backwards in the chair. Red blood splatter sprays onto the wall behind him. The FBI agents in the room immediately pull their guns and aim them at Fly. One of them yells for Fly to drop his gun. Fly responds…
Those two men deserved what they got.
Jack Ridder walks toward the table and finally speaks.
Men, I’ll explain everything to you in due time. Right now, there are FBI agents in our conference room. I don’t see that they are being treated with the respect that they deserve.
The men sitting around the table nod their head and in unison stand up. Each of them pull out their guns and take aim at the closest FBI agent. Fly smiles at the sight. He speaks to everyone in the room.
This was my set-up. When I came back to New York City the first person I came to see was Jack Ridder. I had every intent to kill him for what his family had done to me. Jack told me that John was out of control. He wanted him eliminated but didn’t have the heart to do it himself. He didn't want to die for his son's actions and offered me something to spare his life.
Fly pauses to allow for suspense.
He promised me control of the organization.
The men in the room become wide-eyed. They stare at Fly, then toward Jack Ridder.
It’s true. John was destroying everything I created. He was obsessed with killing Fly. I wasn’t going to die for his personal vendettas, and I wasn’t going to let any of you suffer for his mistakes any longer. I created this organization. I will decide who runs it.
Jack Ridder's sharp words pierce through his audience.
I found out awhile ago that Agent Dawkins was planted by La Casa Nostro in the FBI over 25 years ago. From his position he had been monitoring our activities for nearly a decade. The public incidents with Fly embarrassed them. They wanted the organization completely destroyed so that La Casa could start anew in New York City underneath Dawkins. He reached out to Jonny last month and made a deal for his help in getting you all off the streets. Fly knew who Agent Dawkins actually was, obliged with the request, and then put this plan in motion to eliminate him on my behalf. He fed the information he was getting from Dawkins to me.
Russo, he was just collateral damage, caught in the middle of a bigger performance. He wouldn't have been able to co-exist in our new organization. He kidnapped Fly, but what he didn't know is that the two men with him are under my control. Other than Jonny, they were the only people who knew I was alive. Along with Russo, they took Fly to the docks in Philadelphia, sat him in a shipping container, and watched as Russo shot him. For appearance sake my men fired blanks. The next morning they reported to Russo that the men on site told them the container had been crushed with Fly's body still inside. That, obviously, wasn't the case at all. We had to go through these theatrics for this meeting today to take place. It was the only way to eliminate Dawkins.
Fly walks over to the body of Agent Robert Dawkins and takes out the folder that holds the contracts the men around the table signed earlier.
These contracts are still valid, men. I will uphold everything in them. This is our organization, OUR organization, not mine. However, as your new boss I do have to require one thing.
All eyes in the room are directed toward Fly.
Get rid of these FBI agents. Now!
…..for those of you who want to choose to not go quietly, remember, I have full immunity granted by the Director of the FBI. You can’t touch me. There’s no reason for this to end violently.
The members of now Jonny Fly’s organization move individually toward members of the FBI team in the room. The agents, one by one, set their guns in their holster and put their hands up. As a group they are corralled and moved toward the door and escorted out of the conference room. This leaves only Fly and Jack Ridder inside. Fly walks over to Ridder and the two men shake hands.
Any word on Michael Russo?
My men intercepted him twenty minutes ago. He's dead. The organization is in your hands. Go take back our city.
Fly smiles and nods his head.
First things first, I gotta go whoop some ass in Philly. I'm late.
Fly pats Ridder on the back and brushes past him and exits the room. The scene fades out from New York City.
SCENE ENDS
BEGIN AUDIO DIARY ENTRY
Oh, Roy Speede.
You simple minded little fuck. I know that you can't see this right now, but I want you to know that I'm laughing at you, Roy. Somewhere deep inside I know that you think you can win our match tonight at Payback. That's what's funny. That's the joke. That's the punch line. You, Roy Speede,..can't..beat..me.
This whole thing is ridiculous. You, riding your little righteous high, trying to win the Television Title because Kaylyn James Evans couldn't. The whole plot of this match is degrading to Kaylyn. Trying to defend Kaylyn James Evans honor? She's better than you, Roy. It's an absolute mockery of her abilities that you think you can do what she couldn't. Don't get me wrong, this is one substandard wrestler trying to avenge another. I'm not here to glorify Kaylyn, that's not what I'm about. I'm simply remarking; If this was a television show it would be played 24/7 on Comedy Central. This is another waste of my fucking time.
Am I really supposed to give a shit about you, Roy, trying to get some ass from Kaylyn James Evans? What's the master plan? You going to win this lowly ass Television Title and present it to her as a gift in return for a little play? Obviously, the more relevant question here is what is going to happen when you lose? Are you going to ask her to comfort you? You guys going to cuddle in bed, suck each other's clits, eat ice cream, and gossip about how much you hate me?
I've told this to Kaylyn, Roy, and I'll say it to you. Beating me takes a certain type of individual. Kaylyn had no killer instinct, neither do you. She didn't know how to win against someone like me. She just sat on her ass and told me I was too cocky and gave me a list of people in this company not to fuck with. Interestingly, you weren't on that list Roy. Your own would-be girlfriend doesn't respect you, but I'm supposed to? What a fucking joke. I look at you, Roy, and I see nothing. I see someone who has accomplished nothing. You don't want this match, but you've backed yourself into it to try and impress Kaylyn. This isn't where you belong Speede. This isn't your league. You should be in the People's Title match against Switches, Gannon, and Bankmanship, the other Jonny Fly rejects.
That's not such a bad group, Roy. Don't sell them short. Life is good for the likes of Gannon and Bankmanship. They get to run around say whatever they want about me, make excuses for their losses, and think they're still relevant in my world. More importantly, they don't have to face me and get the shit smacked out of them again. If that group doesn't suit you, you can always go further down the card where Jay Price is. There you can talk about me in disguise and act like I should give a fuck. Life isn't so bad underneath me in the hierarchy, Roy. It's the people above me that have to worry.
You're not above me. You're Roy Speede. The end. You're not going to win the Television Title off of me. Don't take that personally. Nobody is going to. Let me tell you a story, Roy; In 2003 Creeping Death, our old friend, was the Television Title holder. While holding the belt he won the World Title and the belts unified. That's where this road ends, Speede. This is so much bigger than you and Kaylyn. You're running around dreaming of the Television Title, dreaming of Kaylyn's vagina, and dreaming of becoming relevant. I'm not dreaming about anything. I don't have to dream, Roy. My skill, my dominance, makes dreams a reality. Corey Black can tell this company whatever he wants; I'm the best in the business. At the end of the day, I can't be stopped. I've shown this over and over again since I signed my contract.
Last week not only did I beat Bankmanship, I was selected by Black to soften Nathan Von Liebert up before his match this week. Without so much as breaking a sweat, I destroyed the number one contender for the World Title. The man was undefeated until he fell at my feet. Roy, this is what I do. I have yet to be pinned in a match in the WCF. Are you really the person to stop that streak?
Here's a spoiler alert; no, you're not capable.
It's Sunday. I'm on my way to the arena right now. It's time to end this charade, Speede. It's time for our paths to merge for a few moments, and then split, forever. This is your moment. This is all you get. This is all anyone gets. For a few minutes we will be figurative equals. Then, you'll have to spend the rest of your career watching me from below...watching as I go on the most dominant run in the history of this company. Maybe I'll even let Kaylyn valet for me; what do you think Roy?
Hopefully, this conversation crystallizes what you're actually fighting for today. You're not fighting for Kaylyn, that angle is fucking stupid. You're not fighting for the Television Title. Face it, even if you could win this title, you won't hold it very long. What's the point, then? It's not the fuckin' World Title, Roy, it has very little significance in the big picture. That is, however, what you're fighting for. The big picture. You're fighting me; the man who nobody else can beat; the man who is taking over WCF. You're fighting for everyone backstage who isn't capable of stopping me. You're fighting to slow down the..spread..of my era. You're fighting for your place in the heirachy of the company that I am spinning on its proverbial head. All of a sudden getting some pussy doesn't look so fuckin' important, does it?
It's time to do this, Speede.
Put on your big boy pants and get ready to face superiority.
END AUDIO
SCENE BEGINS
We are introduced to a board room. This is the former board room of Jack Ridder’s organization located in New York City. The room features one all glass wall with an entrance door cut out in the center. Above the door is a decal that now reads ‘The Russo Organization.’ Inside the room is a large wooden table with around 15 seats set up around it. In each chair sits a man. We scan to the head of the table and immediately spot Anthony Russo. Russo is the former right hand man of John Ridder and the organization's 'enforcer.' He was introduced to us last week as the man who kidnapped Jonny Fly from Sunday Slam and was last seen firing a bullet into Fly’s chest in a shipping crate at the Philadelphia docks. Our scene begins as he talks to those in the room with him.
Anthony Russo: I want you all to know exactly why you are here today. I want you all to understand how we have got to this point. Allow me the privilege of taking you back to nearly six years ago…
Six years ago all of you were all board members of Jack Ridder’s Organization. You, me, all of us...we owned this city. This organization was bringing in over $300 million dollars a year with our drug, gambling, and money laundering businesses. We had the backing of the most powerful criminal organization on this continent, La Casa Nostro. Then old Jack decided it was time to start ceding power to his son, John. You all know John, rest his soul. He was one of my best friends. John came in with all of these big ideas on how to spread our influence even further. One of those ideas was to create a ‘Cash Loans’ arm of the organization.
The thought was somewhat brilliant, I must admit. John wanted to create this company that would give out loans at an absurdly, absolutely illegal, high interest rate. This company would be marketed by our drug pushers on the streets and our gambling firms. If someone didn’t have the cash to feed their addictions, no problem, go to our loan company and you can get the money, no questions asked. If they didn’t pay back the money, well, you all know how we handle that. We got our money one way or another. Profit soared during the first three quarters of business. We were on track for a $500 million dollar year. Then, Jonny Fly entered our lives.
Fly, as you all know, was a professional wrestler. He was in the midst of accusations that he had shot and killed three men outside of the Key Arena in Seattle, Washington. On top of it, he was facing charges here in New York City due to a cache of weapons found at his mansion, and was also under investigation for the sudden death of a former TNT Wrestling Commissioner, Rian Calloway. Fly needed money for his legal fees. He needed $3 million dollars, to be exact. John loaned him the money, after all, our motto was no questions asked, right? However, Jonny wasn’t our normal type of lendee. He wasn’t into drugs and he wasn’t a compulsive gambler.
Worse, Fly did everything he was supposed to do. He paid back the full sum of the money he borrowed from us in two months. That’s when he was informed that had an outstanding balance of another $3 million dollars; interest on the loan he took out. John never did any background on Fly, and it wasn’t until then did they find out exactly who he was. Fly is, or should I say was, a street-bred narcissist. In fact, he was the biggest narcissist I’ve ever encountered. Please realize, narcissism isn’t always what it’s portrayed in movies and television shows. Fly’s narcissism was, actually, healthy. He had high self-confidence, he enjoyed power, he has values, and always carried through with his plans. There was only one trait he shared with destructive narcissists. Unfortunately for us, Fly lacked all inhibitions. There were no lines he wouldn’t cross to pursue his self-righteousness.
Fly refused to pay back the interest. He gave us only one offer. He told John in their first meeting that he would only pay $100,000 of the interest he owed. He encouraged John to take the money and told him that he would never get a dollar more. John saw this as his first confrontation since his father had ceded him power, and he decided to take it personal. He wanted to make a point, to all of you sitting here today, that he wouldn’t be pushed around, that he was worthy of his position at the top of the organization. John began sending some of our enforcers to check up on Fly, promising physical harm if he didn’t pay. Then he told those same people to rough up Fly, only to watch them get roughed up themselves. Then he hired a wrestler to infiltrate TNT wrestling and feed information back to the organization. Information that we would then use to blackmail Fly into giving us the money. Fly thwarted every attempt...and then started fighting back.
The first thing he did was go public on just who we were. Profits plummeted, so John then decided to hire hitmen to solve the problem. The hitmen failed miserably. They were all killed by Kent Strong, Fly’s longtime manager. Then John got to Kent, turned him, and made Kent take out Fly. Fly killed Kent, instead. Then John got to Mark Vincent, a long-time wrestling partner of Fly’s, had Mark attempt to kill Fly. Fly killed Vincent instead. It was at this time Fly ceded power to TNT Wrestling. He became too paranoid to show up at shows. Everywhere he went, we were there. Everyone he knew, we tried to turn against him. So Fly went to the FBI and made a deal. In exchange for his testimony against each and every one of us, Fly wouldn’t serve jail time for his crimes. He was ushered into witness protection until an investigation was concluded against us.
This enraged John. He was far past the point of no return, he wanted blood. He wanted Fly eliminated. He used every single resource our organization had to find Fly, and we never did. Finally, he was able to turn an FBI agent and had him convince his superiors that Fly was the person that should be investigated. Those protecting Fly were removed from the investigation and the powers that be in the FBI decided to just let Fly rot where he was. John wanted blood, but he settled for isolation. More importantly, John began focusing once again on making this organization profitable. It was like old times for us, we had power, we were feared, and we were making money. Then, Jonny Fly escaped from witness protection.
Fly immediately came back to New York City seeking justice. Somehow, that motherfucker figured out what we had done to him. Within weeks our beloved Jack Ridder was found dead. Days later Fly ended the saga by killing John Ridder, with the help of the very same FBI agent we hired to turn the investigation into the Ridder’s. The old organization died that day. We all went our separate ways. We all struggled, fighting each other for business. It made me sick. Fly went back to his wrestling career, and we all went broke. That’s not acceptable.
My son Michael and I began looking into ways to make our situation better. The answer was simple. We needed to form our own organization. More importantly, we needed to punish Jonny Fly for what he’s done to us. I’m happy to report, that’s been done. Jonny Fly is dead.
There are shuffling sounds as everyone looks back and forth at each other. The individuals sitting in the seats around the table lean in as Russo continues talking.
If there is one good thing that can come from his death, it’s that we are all back here in this room. We are united once again. Today, I’m asking for all of you to join me, to join Michael. Let’s get back to doing what we do best.
As Russo has been talking there has been a folder sitting on the table in front of him. He slides the folder into the middle of the table.
Inside that folder are your contracts. Take a look at them.
The men slowly converge on the folder, each man taking a piece of paper out to read. As they read, Russo continues talking.
Profit is shared equally between all of us. That includes me, and that includes Michael. We won’t take a penny more than any of you. As has always been the case, the organization simply serves as a legislative body between the members, provides security and protection, and creates a strategic plan. Gentleman, this is what you want. This is what you need. Sign the contract.
The people in the office look at Russo, then around the room. Finally, one man reaches for one of the pens sitting on the table and signs the contract. Slowly, others follow suit until everyone in the room has signed the contract and set it back in the folder. Russo smiles.
We should celebrate tonight. This is a new beginning for us.
Suddenly, a loud click is heard. A man has pushed through the crowd in the back of the room. He holds out a tape recorder. Russo looks at him in a confused manner, before speaking.
What is this?
The man answers.
This is commonly referred to as a set-up.
As the man issues his remark the sound of footsteps click-clacking on the tile floor are heard from outside of the office. Russo and those in the room look through the glass to notice a line of armed FBI agents converging on the conference room. There are upwards of fifteen FBI agents now in the conference room and they begin to circle the table, surrounding it with their weapons drawn. Lastly, one more man enters the room. This man is familiar to us as Agent Robert Dawkins, scene before in ‘Can’t Escape the Past.’ It’s been explained to us previously that Dawkins has been specially appointed by the Director of the FBI to lead a task force into shutting down organized crime in New York City. Dawkins stares around the room with a smile on his face before setting his eyes on Anthony Russo at the head of the table.
Russo. It is great to see you!
Russo stares at Dawkins but doesn’t comment.
It looks like I’m interrupting a pretty important meeting. I saw the sign on the door there, looks like you’ve raised your status in the world a little bit.
Again, Anthony Russo says nothing. The man with the tape recorder walks toward Russo and hands it to him.
Ah, that pesky thing called evidence.
Dawkins walks toward the table and picks up the folder. He sorts through the papers and the looks around the room. He smiles, and then tucks the folder away in his jacket. Finally, Russo breaks his silence.
You can't take that!
Dawkins walks over toward Russo.
I can take whatever I want. This is evidence. All of you are under arrest.
All you have is intent; we’ll plead out and be right back in this room in six months.
What I have is a criminal organization, and the documentation in my jacket and on this tape recorder to prove it. I can charge every single one of you with the same crime. Furthermore, my unit has been putting together a case on each and every person in this room since 2003.
Russo laughs.
The same crime, you say? Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the crime?
The kidnapping and murder of Jonny Fly.
Russo’s face turns blank. You can almost see his thoughts appear…how does he know…? Russo turns away from Dawkins and takes a seat in his chair. He looks back up at Dawkins.
You’ll have to prove that. There is nothing on your tape that incriminates me.
Don't you worry about that. I'll prove it.
Russo cocks his head to the side, wondering what Agent Dawkins means. Suddenly, footsteps are heard again outside of the room. Everyone turns to see a familiar face enter the room.
Jonny Fly.
Fly enters the room looking as smug as we’ve ever seen him. He’s grinning from ear to ear and begins clapping his hands. He begins walking around the table making eye contact with every single person sitting down. He stops next to Russo.
I am one hard motherfucker to kill, right?
Fly proceeds to take off his shirt revealing one fairly dark circle in his chest with a reddish ring around it. We can clearly see stitching in the wound. Fly turns so that everyone in the room can see before turning back to Russo.
Three shots, one bullet wound. Did I just blow your mind?
Fly moves in towards Russo, who has absolutely no movement, no expression, just a blank stare looking out at nobody in particular. Fly whispers into Russo’s ear.
What did I tell you? I…will…never…lose.
Fly smiles, and then moves away from Russo and turns his attention back to the group in the room.
You stubborn fucks should have got this through your head years ago; I’m Jonny Fly. I'm everlasting, indestructible, hell, I may be borderline immortal! You guys are in for a treat, though. I still have one more magic trick to show you.
All of a sudden another sound of footsteps are heard click-clacking outside the room. The group of FBI agents in front of the door move to the side allowing us to see who has just entered the room.
He doesn’t need an introduction to this group, but since I’m fuckin’ on fire right now…Ladies and Gentleman, I introduce to you your old boss…Jack Ridder…alive and in the flesh!
Ridder stands in the doorway wearing a suit and a brimmed hat. The older godfather of the Ridder organization scans the room looking at his former members. He rests his eyes on Anthony Russo and then looks toward Agent Dawkins. Agent Dawkins looks horrified at the sight of both Fly and Jack Ridder alive. Fly looks over at Dawkins.
This is bullshit, isn’t it?! NOBODY is dead around here! We can’t have that, can we?
Fly reaches behind him, underneath his shirt, and pulls out a gun. He quickly aims it at Agent Dawkins and shoots. Dawkins is hit right between the eyes and falls to the floor. Fly then moves the gun over to Anthony Russo and shoots again. Russo is hit in the forehead and goes tumbling backwards in the chair. Red blood splatter sprays onto the wall behind him. The FBI agents in the room immediately pull their guns and aim them at Fly. One of them yells for Fly to drop his gun. Fly responds…
Those two men deserved what they got.
Jack Ridder walks toward the table and finally speaks.
Men, I’ll explain everything to you in due time. Right now, there are FBI agents in our conference room. I don’t see that they are being treated with the respect that they deserve.
The men sitting around the table nod their head and in unison stand up. Each of them pull out their guns and take aim at the closest FBI agent. Fly smiles at the sight. He speaks to everyone in the room.
This was my set-up. When I came back to New York City the first person I came to see was Jack Ridder. I had every intent to kill him for what his family had done to me. Jack told me that John was out of control. He wanted him eliminated but didn’t have the heart to do it himself. He didn't want to die for his son's actions and offered me something to spare his life.
Fly pauses to allow for suspense.
He promised me control of the organization.
The men in the room become wide-eyed. They stare at Fly, then toward Jack Ridder.
It’s true. John was destroying everything I created. He was obsessed with killing Fly. I wasn’t going to die for his personal vendettas, and I wasn’t going to let any of you suffer for his mistakes any longer. I created this organization. I will decide who runs it.
Jack Ridder's sharp words pierce through his audience.
I found out awhile ago that Agent Dawkins was planted by La Casa Nostro in the FBI over 25 years ago. From his position he had been monitoring our activities for nearly a decade. The public incidents with Fly embarrassed them. They wanted the organization completely destroyed so that La Casa could start anew in New York City underneath Dawkins. He reached out to Jonny last month and made a deal for his help in getting you all off the streets. Fly knew who Agent Dawkins actually was, obliged with the request, and then put this plan in motion to eliminate him on my behalf. He fed the information he was getting from Dawkins to me.
Russo, he was just collateral damage, caught in the middle of a bigger performance. He wouldn't have been able to co-exist in our new organization. He kidnapped Fly, but what he didn't know is that the two men with him are under my control. Other than Jonny, they were the only people who knew I was alive. Along with Russo, they took Fly to the docks in Philadelphia, sat him in a shipping container, and watched as Russo shot him. For appearance sake my men fired blanks. The next morning they reported to Russo that the men on site told them the container had been crushed with Fly's body still inside. That, obviously, wasn't the case at all. We had to go through these theatrics for this meeting today to take place. It was the only way to eliminate Dawkins.
Fly walks over to the body of Agent Robert Dawkins and takes out the folder that holds the contracts the men around the table signed earlier.
These contracts are still valid, men. I will uphold everything in them. This is our organization, OUR organization, not mine. However, as your new boss I do have to require one thing.
All eyes in the room are directed toward Fly.
Get rid of these FBI agents. Now!
…..for those of you who want to choose to not go quietly, remember, I have full immunity granted by the Director of the FBI. You can’t touch me. There’s no reason for this to end violently.
The members of now Jonny Fly’s organization move individually toward members of the FBI team in the room. The agents, one by one, set their guns in their holster and put their hands up. As a group they are corralled and moved toward the door and escorted out of the conference room. This leaves only Fly and Jack Ridder inside. Fly walks over to Ridder and the two men shake hands.
Any word on Michael Russo?
My men intercepted him twenty minutes ago. He's dead. The organization is in your hands. Go take back our city.
Fly smiles and nods his head.
First things first, I gotta go whoop some ass in Philly. I'm late.
Fly pats Ridder on the back and brushes past him and exits the room. The scene fades out from New York City.
SCENE ENDS
BEGIN AUDIO DIARY ENTRY
Oh, Roy Speede.
You simple minded little fuck. I know that you can't see this right now, but I want you to know that I'm laughing at you, Roy. Somewhere deep inside I know that you think you can win our match tonight at Payback. That's what's funny. That's the joke. That's the punch line. You, Roy Speede,..can't..beat..me.
This whole thing is ridiculous. You, riding your little righteous high, trying to win the Television Title because Kaylyn James Evans couldn't. The whole plot of this match is degrading to Kaylyn. Trying to defend Kaylyn James Evans honor? She's better than you, Roy. It's an absolute mockery of her abilities that you think you can do what she couldn't. Don't get me wrong, this is one substandard wrestler trying to avenge another. I'm not here to glorify Kaylyn, that's not what I'm about. I'm simply remarking; If this was a television show it would be played 24/7 on Comedy Central. This is another waste of my fucking time.
Am I really supposed to give a shit about you, Roy, trying to get some ass from Kaylyn James Evans? What's the master plan? You going to win this lowly ass Television Title and present it to her as a gift in return for a little play? Obviously, the more relevant question here is what is going to happen when you lose? Are you going to ask her to comfort you? You guys going to cuddle in bed, suck each other's clits, eat ice cream, and gossip about how much you hate me?
I've told this to Kaylyn, Roy, and I'll say it to you. Beating me takes a certain type of individual. Kaylyn had no killer instinct, neither do you. She didn't know how to win against someone like me. She just sat on her ass and told me I was too cocky and gave me a list of people in this company not to fuck with. Interestingly, you weren't on that list Roy. Your own would-be girlfriend doesn't respect you, but I'm supposed to? What a fucking joke. I look at you, Roy, and I see nothing. I see someone who has accomplished nothing. You don't want this match, but you've backed yourself into it to try and impress Kaylyn. This isn't where you belong Speede. This isn't your league. You should be in the People's Title match against Switches, Gannon, and Bankmanship, the other Jonny Fly rejects.
That's not such a bad group, Roy. Don't sell them short. Life is good for the likes of Gannon and Bankmanship. They get to run around say whatever they want about me, make excuses for their losses, and think they're still relevant in my world. More importantly, they don't have to face me and get the shit smacked out of them again. If that group doesn't suit you, you can always go further down the card where Jay Price is. There you can talk about me in disguise and act like I should give a fuck. Life isn't so bad underneath me in the hierarchy, Roy. It's the people above me that have to worry.
You're not above me. You're Roy Speede. The end. You're not going to win the Television Title off of me. Don't take that personally. Nobody is going to. Let me tell you a story, Roy; In 2003 Creeping Death, our old friend, was the Television Title holder. While holding the belt he won the World Title and the belts unified. That's where this road ends, Speede. This is so much bigger than you and Kaylyn. You're running around dreaming of the Television Title, dreaming of Kaylyn's vagina, and dreaming of becoming relevant. I'm not dreaming about anything. I don't have to dream, Roy. My skill, my dominance, makes dreams a reality. Corey Black can tell this company whatever he wants; I'm the best in the business. At the end of the day, I can't be stopped. I've shown this over and over again since I signed my contract.
Last week not only did I beat Bankmanship, I was selected by Black to soften Nathan Von Liebert up before his match this week. Without so much as breaking a sweat, I destroyed the number one contender for the World Title. The man was undefeated until he fell at my feet. Roy, this is what I do. I have yet to be pinned in a match in the WCF. Are you really the person to stop that streak?
Here's a spoiler alert; no, you're not capable.
It's Sunday. I'm on my way to the arena right now. It's time to end this charade, Speede. It's time for our paths to merge for a few moments, and then split, forever. This is your moment. This is all you get. This is all anyone gets. For a few minutes we will be figurative equals. Then, you'll have to spend the rest of your career watching me from below...watching as I go on the most dominant run in the history of this company. Maybe I'll even let Kaylyn valet for me; what do you think Roy?
Hopefully, this conversation crystallizes what you're actually fighting for today. You're not fighting for Kaylyn, that angle is fucking stupid. You're not fighting for the Television Title. Face it, even if you could win this title, you won't hold it very long. What's the point, then? It's not the fuckin' World Title, Roy, it has very little significance in the big picture. That is, however, what you're fighting for. The big picture. You're fighting me; the man who nobody else can beat; the man who is taking over WCF. You're fighting for everyone backstage who isn't capable of stopping me. You're fighting to slow down the..spread..of my era. You're fighting for your place in the heirachy of the company that I am spinning on its proverbial head. All of a sudden getting some pussy doesn't look so fuckin' important, does it?
It's time to do this, Speede.
Put on your big boy pants and get ready to face superiority.
END AUDIO
