Post by Johnny Reb on Feb 11, 2012 11:13:05 GMT -5
A hazy image begins to resolve itself into focus. The sense of an enclosed space well lit; a Confederate battle standard serves as backdrop. Another moment or two of tinkering with the camera, and Johnny Reb walks into view to take a seat on the steel folding chair in front of the flag. His eyes are fixed on the camera with unwavering intensity.
Reb: Doc Henry… it’s on. You spent the last several months meddlin’ in my life, tryin’ to make me crazy, tryin’ to drive me over the edge. It don’t work like that, y’know. All ya done is piss me off over an’ over an’ over again. Last week – that was the final straw. Things is gonna get real diff’rent from here on out, Doc.
Now, I dunno where ya got the idea that ya got any right to the New Confederacy name an’ trademarks, let alone the right to choose the composition of the team. The New Confederacy was my creation, my responsibility, my… magnum opus, if ya will. I’m the one who carried us to vict’ry, time an’ time again, includin’ three tag title reigns. An’ you, Doc… ya never quite pulled your weight. I was patient with ya. Figured you’d step up one day to shoulder your share of the responsibility. But that never happened. An’ now ya reckon, somehow, you’re entitled to take ownership of a tag team I created – an’ retired.
It was only ever s’posed to be you an’ me, the New Confederacy. Equal partners, fifty-fifty. After ya turned on me, that was it. It was over, done. But ya had to go an’ revive it just to get under my skin. Ya couldn’t be content with that. Had to take it a step further an’ force me into workin’ with ya. Sidelined my career as a singles competitor. Then, ya had to go an’ pull that little stunt at Payback.
Johnny shakes his head in disappointment.
Reb: Doc Henry, you are a liar, a cheat, an’ a scoundrel. Ya picked the wrong profession. Shoulda been a lawyer, or a politician. That’s beside the point, though. Point is, Doc… I’m takin’ back what’s mine, startin’ this Sunday. Gonna get me a little payback of my own.
See, this time, I got a partner I know I can rely on. Me an’ Mr. Black have had our differences in the past, but it ain’t never been personal. He may not like me much; might not even respect me. That don’t matter. We’re united in a common goal – that goal bein’ to win, pure an’ simple. Nevermind the fact that he’s the World Champion, an’ that I still have my sites set on that belt myself. This week, that’s completely irrelevant.
At any rate, it ain’t Corey Black ya gotta worry about. He’s got business of his own to conduct with your partner. Now, I’ll admit, I don’t really know enough about Jonny Fly to say much in regard to him. He must be quite the talent to have risen to main event status so quickly. Sorta strikes me as the self-centered type, though. Wouldn’t count on him to have your back, Doc. He’s gonna be lookin’ for that spotlight, the way guys like him always do.
Johnny shrugs.
Reb: Also irrelevant. The only thing ya gotta concern y’self with this week is me, Doc. Ya kept on pushin’, pilin’ up the wrongs, an’ now you’re gonna get what ya claim ya want. There’s a sayin’… “Be careful what ya wish for, ‘cause ya just might get it.”
Yeah. Ya keep on tellin’ anyone who’ll listen that I ain’t the Inveterate Confederate no more – ‘cause I respect the rules; ‘cause I don’t feel a need to start poundin’ on every rookie as soon as the ink’s dry on their contracts; ‘cause I don’t go after veterans I’ve already subdued… That ain’t what I’m about, Doc. I’ve proven myself time an’ time after time – an’ all without takin’ cheap shots or hittin’ my opponents with chairs.
He gazes at the camera for a moment, his expression troubled.
Reb: But for you, Doc… Just for you, I’m gonna make an exception. Ya really wanna see the darker side of the Inveterate Confederate? Wanna let that beast out of its cage again? All right. I don’t like doin’ it…don’t like that part of me. An’ it’s gonna be damn near impossible to put it back on its leash. Ya asked for it, Doc. For your sake, I hope it’s worth it. See ya tomorrow night.
Johnny reaches forward and turns off the camera; everything goes black.
Reb: Doc Henry… it’s on. You spent the last several months meddlin’ in my life, tryin’ to make me crazy, tryin’ to drive me over the edge. It don’t work like that, y’know. All ya done is piss me off over an’ over an’ over again. Last week – that was the final straw. Things is gonna get real diff’rent from here on out, Doc.
Now, I dunno where ya got the idea that ya got any right to the New Confederacy name an’ trademarks, let alone the right to choose the composition of the team. The New Confederacy was my creation, my responsibility, my… magnum opus, if ya will. I’m the one who carried us to vict’ry, time an’ time again, includin’ three tag title reigns. An’ you, Doc… ya never quite pulled your weight. I was patient with ya. Figured you’d step up one day to shoulder your share of the responsibility. But that never happened. An’ now ya reckon, somehow, you’re entitled to take ownership of a tag team I created – an’ retired.
It was only ever s’posed to be you an’ me, the New Confederacy. Equal partners, fifty-fifty. After ya turned on me, that was it. It was over, done. But ya had to go an’ revive it just to get under my skin. Ya couldn’t be content with that. Had to take it a step further an’ force me into workin’ with ya. Sidelined my career as a singles competitor. Then, ya had to go an’ pull that little stunt at Payback.
Johnny shakes his head in disappointment.
Reb: Doc Henry, you are a liar, a cheat, an’ a scoundrel. Ya picked the wrong profession. Shoulda been a lawyer, or a politician. That’s beside the point, though. Point is, Doc… I’m takin’ back what’s mine, startin’ this Sunday. Gonna get me a little payback of my own.
See, this time, I got a partner I know I can rely on. Me an’ Mr. Black have had our differences in the past, but it ain’t never been personal. He may not like me much; might not even respect me. That don’t matter. We’re united in a common goal – that goal bein’ to win, pure an’ simple. Nevermind the fact that he’s the World Champion, an’ that I still have my sites set on that belt myself. This week, that’s completely irrelevant.
At any rate, it ain’t Corey Black ya gotta worry about. He’s got business of his own to conduct with your partner. Now, I’ll admit, I don’t really know enough about Jonny Fly to say much in regard to him. He must be quite the talent to have risen to main event status so quickly. Sorta strikes me as the self-centered type, though. Wouldn’t count on him to have your back, Doc. He’s gonna be lookin’ for that spotlight, the way guys like him always do.
Johnny shrugs.
Reb: Also irrelevant. The only thing ya gotta concern y’self with this week is me, Doc. Ya kept on pushin’, pilin’ up the wrongs, an’ now you’re gonna get what ya claim ya want. There’s a sayin’… “Be careful what ya wish for, ‘cause ya just might get it.”
Yeah. Ya keep on tellin’ anyone who’ll listen that I ain’t the Inveterate Confederate no more – ‘cause I respect the rules; ‘cause I don’t feel a need to start poundin’ on every rookie as soon as the ink’s dry on their contracts; ‘cause I don’t go after veterans I’ve already subdued… That ain’t what I’m about, Doc. I’ve proven myself time an’ time after time – an’ all without takin’ cheap shots or hittin’ my opponents with chairs.
He gazes at the camera for a moment, his expression troubled.
Reb: But for you, Doc… Just for you, I’m gonna make an exception. Ya really wanna see the darker side of the Inveterate Confederate? Wanna let that beast out of its cage again? All right. I don’t like doin’ it…don’t like that part of me. An’ it’s gonna be damn near impossible to put it back on its leash. Ya asked for it, Doc. For your sake, I hope it’s worth it. See ya tomorrow night.
Johnny reaches forward and turns off the camera; everything goes black.