Post by CD's Old Account on Sept 14, 2013 16:18:50 GMT -5
Black screen. Only audio from a phone call taking place between Jonny Fly and Corey Black is heard.
Jonny Fly: Black?
Black: Fly? Holy shit. It’s been a while.
Fly: I want in.
Black: Great. In what, exactly?
Fly: XIII. I want Jay Price.
Black: Aren’t you retired?
Fly: Price versus Fly at XIII. You make the match and I’ll be there.
Black: Okay man, consider it done.
Two week later. Another black screen, another phone call.
Black: Fly?
Fly: Creeping Death. What’s up?
Black: Sooo….Jay Price is out. He’s hurt or something.
Fly: Are you kidding me? Are you FUCKING kidding me?
Black: Yeah, there’s nothing I can do about it. I mean, of course, other than switch you into a match against
Nathan von Liebert.
Fly: Not interested. I’ve thrown him around more times than I can count. I have nothing to prove to that dude.
Black: You had something to prove to Price?
Fly: At XIII, yeah.
Black: He’s the World Champion. You don’t want a match against the World Champion?
Fly: Nope, I’m retired.
Black: May I remind you that you’ve never won at XIII?
Fly: …
Black: You could beat the World Champion AND end that streak all in the same night. Are you still out?
Fly: Fuck you, Black. I’ll be there.
---
Jonny Fly’s Jaguar XK pulls into a random gas station just outside of Minneapolis. Fly promptly exits the vehicle. He straightens out his more-expensive-than-your-yearly salary suit and walks into the station. Upon entering he looks around, finds the counter, and approaches. An older, disheveled man greets the three-time WCF World Champion as he steps toward the counter.
Man: E-yellow! What can I do you for dere, sir?
Fly scrunches his face and scowls at the man.
Fly: What is that accent you have?
Man: Doh-ent know whatcha mean.
Fly: Uh…right. I guess that’s probably normal in this shit-hole. Look, I need some directions. I’m trying to get to The Myth.
Man: Don’t-be-knowin’ what that is, sir.
Fly: I probably should have figured that. You don’t look like city-folk. It’s in St. Paul.
Man: Oh, you tryin’ to get downtown? Lotsa weird folks down-dere.
Fly: This is what it must have felt like if you were the guy filming Fargo.
Man: What?
Fly: I said considering where I’m at right now, I’ll take my chances.
Man: Well you bedder head nort. Take a right out-a da station and go up dat der road aboot tdree (not a spelling mistake, that’s how they talk!) miles and catch Interstate 35 inna da big city.
Fly just stares blankly across the counter. He didn’t understand a word that dude just said.
Man: Hey, wait, dat fancy car there doh-ent have no GPS?
Fly: I’m really surprised you even know what that is. Anyway, it’s all fucked up. I don’t think Jaguar’s normally venture into Minnesota so it’s lost.
A door behind the counter opens and a kid, no more than ten years old, steps out from the back. He runs toward
the station attendant.
Kid: Dad!
Man: Hey dere Timmy!
As the kid finishes hugging his dad’s leg he looks up and sees THE Jonny Fly across the counter staring down at
him.
Kid: Whoa! Dad, dun-chya-no who that is?
Man: Well, ispoze another travler’ looking to get into da city.
Kid: That’s Jonny Fly! He’s a professional wrestler.
Fly: That’s not true. I’m retired.
Kid: Corey Black’s XIII is in St. Paul and you’re here at our station. Is that a coincidence?
Fly cocks his head slightly to the side as a smile curls onto his lips.
Fly: You’re very astute, kid.
Fly leans forward with his upper body now hanging over the counter. He speaks softly downward staring intently into the little boy’s eyes.
Fly: However, if you tell anyone that I…will…murder…you.
Fly gives the kid a wicked wink and stands back up straight. He looks back to the attendant with a cold expression on his face.
Fly: That goes for you too old man. Not a word. Nobody is going to see this coming, and I’m not going to let some quasi-French fucks ruin it.
Silence fills the room. Fly smiles again, turns, and exits the gas station. He gets back into his car and drives away. Next stop, The Myth, the location of his first wrestling match in months.
---
Underneath the winged logo of The Myth in St. Paul, Minnesota Jonny Fly enters through the glass entry-doors of the nightclub. Wearing the same attire as seen in the previous scene, Fly takes a moment at the entrance to soak in the scene of the band playing on the stage in front of him. Despite it being Wednesday, there’s still a few hundred people crowding the stage, enjoying the music, and partying. Finishing his pause, Fly makes eye-contact with the bar area and immediately proceeds toward it. He moves through the crowd and as he approaches the bar he comes across a familiar face. With a beer in hand, Corey Black is seen leaning against the bar watching the band.
Fly: Well, well…
Black turns to see Fly.
Black: Hey, you look like a guy I used to know!
There’s a longer pause after the previous statement. Fly nods his head slowly and stretches out his hand to his former tag-team partner and stable mate. Black grasps it in return.
Black: It’s good to see you.
Fly: Same.
Black: What brings you to The Myth on a Wednesday night?
Fly: I figured I would find you here.
Fly turns away from Black momentarily to order a beer of his own. As he’s served, Fly turns back to one his few friends in the wrestling industry.
Fly: So tell me, what the fuck is Cryogenix?
Black: Uh…yeah.
Fly: It seems like nothing has really changed for you, Black. Still part-time, hanging out under the umbrella of a different stable trying to save the world.
Black: You sound like you think that’s a bad thing.
Fly: I’ve learned over the last few months that the world, even just the wrestling world, isn’t worth saving.
It’s much more fun to be on the other end of the fence.
Black: So, that’s what you’ve been up to?
Fly: More or less. I’ve been doing my thing in New York.
Black: You’ve missed a lot.
Fly: I could really care less.
Black: If you’re so apathetic about wrestling, why did you accept my match?
Fly pauses for a second, not to contemplate his answer, but almost contemplating whether to answer at all.
Fly: Well…I think back at Nathan’s history. I think back to the man who won the One Invitational against nobody worth a shit, and proclaimed that he was going to be the next WCF World Champion. I think back to the man who followed up that proclamation by laying an egg in the title match that followed.
As the man who won that match, Black nods his head approvingly.
Fly: I think back to the man who afterward was sent back to the midcard where he was more comfortable and succeeded me as Television Champion. He actually thought he was going to be the next Jonny Fly or some shit after that. I think back about the proverbial thorn in the side he was to Pantheon, and the things he did to The Polar Phantasm and Nightmare. I think back on the Church of Dark Saints, and the laughable catastrophe they were. I think back to the MANY times I’ve beaten Nathan, the multi-time Flyjobber that he is. I remember distinctly the comments he made after each one, the excuses, the non-acknowledgement, and his refusal to accept that we are not equals in a wrestling ring. Most vividly, I remember the last time we faced.
Black: Why was that so special?
Fly: It was the Torneo Cibernetico match last December. Twelve people started the match, and the finals consisted of only two men – Jonny Fly and Nathan von Liebert. I won that match, of course. I pinned Nathan and sent him on his way. What stuck with me, though, were the things Nathan said leading up to that match. He tried his hardest to portray our previous entanglements as inconsequential. He said that even though I won those matches, I had never pinned him. He said that I was jealous of him, and wasn’t the wrestling GOD that I portray myself as. It was these comments, followed by my victory, which led me to give Nathan a new nickname. He’s the right hand of fucking delusion…and he wasn’t done with the insanity just yet.
Fly pauses briefly and turns toward the bar. He orders a beer for himself and returns his attention to Corey Black.
Fly: You’ve heard the quote that insanity can be defined as doing the same act over and over again and expecting a different result. In the realm of insanity, Nathan never disappoints. After that match, after his comments beforehand and the loss that ensued, Nathan was back at it. He still saw himself fit to declare that even though he lost, he was still the best wrestler in the company. He said that I ‘struggled’ to beat him. He mentioned that he kicked out of a Fly Swatter, that we had some back and forth during the match, so…now he was better than me. What. A. Fucking. Idiot.
Fly is served his beer at the bar and immediately takes a long sip before continuing his rant.
Fly: That’s one hell of a stretch, right? Of course, we’re talking about the right hand of delusion, he’s not known for carrying himself with any level of rationality. Common sense for Nathan von Liebert, is not common at all. It could be by design, it fit into his ‘persona,’ but for a man so quick to think others are jealous of him he’s doing a damn fine job of showing his own jealousy with his refusal to accept reality. Nathan tries to prey off the weakness of others, yet, he’s too damn prideful to admit his failures, to take ownership of his losses. He’s not a man to be feared, no, he’s a man to be parodied. He’s a fuckin’ clown with a shelf-life that’s going to last…two more days.
Black: Oh yeah?
Fly: I don’t know what’s happened since I left. Nathan came out of the shadows, succeeded me as the Ultimate Showdown winner, went on to beat Steve Orbit for the World Title, which is no easy task. I guess this is part where I’m supposed to act like I respect his accomplishments, or act like he’s improved from the run of the mill midcarder who sat in my shadow for the last…howeverthefuck long he’s been employed with WCF.
Black: Actually, EPPW.
Fly: …
Black: I told you a lot has changed.
Fly: Anyway, the ruse is about to end for Nathan. When you brought up the fact that Price bitched out and that you wanted me to face Nathan, I thought back to something he once said to me. Nathan told me after Torneo Cibernetico that he wanted me one on one. Then and only then, would he accept that fact that I am better than him. It never meant much to me at the time. After all, as you know, when you’re the fuckin’ king of professional wrestler there is an endless supply of jobbers chomping at the bit to face you. I never distinguished Nathan from that group…until now.
As Fly pauses, Black takes that time to order and receive another beer. Fly continues.
Fly: The industry will never have a shortage of guys who spend forever telling people how great they are, without the resume to back it up. Nathan was always in that class of wrestler, always. Until Ultimate Showdown his biggest win was still that One Invitational tournament two years ago. How fuckin’ pathetic is that? In the last two months, though, he’s won Showdown, he’s won the World Title, and this month he has a chance to win War. That would be the trifecta of all fuckin’ trifectas. Still…even if that comes to pass, he’s going to have one humbling moment mixed in. He’s still going to lose to me at XIII. I’m bigger, stronger, faster, more decorated, and even despite his sociopathic personality, in a wrestling ring, I’m more feared than Nathan von Liebert. Nathan can go on to become a twenty-time World Champion for all I care, but there will always be one motherfucker he will never beat, and that’s me. After this match, maybe then he’ll finally come to peace with that.
Corey Black smiles and quickly finishes his beer. He sets it on the bar and slaps Fly on the back.
Black: I’m just looking forward to the buy-rates.
Fly: Are you out of here?
Black: Yeah, this band isn’t even that good. I’ll catch up with you on Friday.
Fly nods his head and Black takes off toward the exit. He watches as Black proceeds through the glass doors to the outside before turning back to the bar. Fly finishes his beer and promptly orders another. As the bartender serves him, he receives a tap on the shoulder. Fly spins around to see an extremely attractive brunette staring and smiling at him.
Fly: Well, hello.
Woman: You want to buy me a drink?
Fly: Maybe. First things first, say the word ‘about.’
Woman: About.
Fly: Good, no accent. I’m not sure I could have faked listening to you talk if you had the eskimo accent the
rest of these motherfuckers do.
Woman: Who said we were going to talk?
…boom. Let’s end this right there.
Six Hours Later
The scene begins in Jonny Fly’s penthouse suite at The Saint Paul Hotel in, you guessed it, St. Paul, Minnesota. Its three o’clock in the morning and not a creature was stirring except for…Jonny Fly. We’re in the suite’s bedroom and despite the fact that the outline of a very shapely figure is seen in the bed, Jonny Fly himself is not. Fly has set-up a camcorder on a tripod next to the bed. The lens is directed toward a sofa in which Fly is sitting. A green light emerges on the camcorder and as Fly begins to speak our scene morphs into a first-person view of the man himself from the lens of the camcorder.
Fly: I can’t sleep.
Pause.
Fly: I’m here in St. Paul on the verge of my first wrestling match in months and…I’m actually excited. I think about the reaction from the crowd when my music will hit. Whether they boo or cheer, I don’t give a shit, they will be surprised. I think about the reaction of my opponent, Nathan von Liebert. The wheels in his psychotic head have to be turning. He has to be thinking, contemplating, wondering who this ‘mystery opponent’ is going to be. Am I even on the radar? What’s his reaction going to be when he sees me? Can he hide his emotions in such a small, cozy atmosphere, or am I going to see the fear in his eyes?
Another pause.
Fly: When I retired, I meant it. It surprises even me that I’m sitting here less than 48 hours away from facing the World Champion at XIII. If it surprises me, it’s going to surprise everyone. Coming back to wrestle at XIII interested me because…fuck Jay Price, that’s why. Don’t get me wrong, I respect Jay. I brought him into Pantheon and I enjoyed our run together. However, I’ll never forget the last XIII, the match against Jay, and the World Title that slipped through my fingers. I won’t get retribution this time, but one day…one day Jay Price and I are going to have a rematch at XIII. Until then, I’m stuck with Nathan von Liebert.
Fly runs his hand through his hair. His company adjusts in the bed and Fly quickly looks over to make sure she hasn’t awoken. Satisfied, he continues in a more hushed and direct tone.
Fly: The competitor in me relishes this opportunity. You’re not a competitor if you can’t ‘get up’ for the World Champion, no matter how you think of him. The veteran wrestler in me, the one with eight career World Titles, could give a fuck less. While he won’t know it until I’m standing in front of him, Nathan has everything to gain in this match. What do I have to gain from beating him again? I’m not going to become the World Champion. I’m not going to achieve some feat I haven’t already.
Fly takes another pause, a much longer pause. He stares intently into the camera.
Fly: But…I’m still going to destroy that motherfucker. I’m going to humiliate him for the fuckin’ sport of it. I’m going to win this match for the pure unadulterated fun of it. I’m going to walk into The Myth on Friday and before I leave I’m going to send the entire industry a message. That message being your best still isn’t good enough. It will NEVER be good enough.
Pause.
Fly: Nathan, I want you to know that not everyone gets this. I don’t direct my attention to just anyone. Not all are guaranteed the full ‘experience’ that comes with facing THE Jonny Fly in a wrestling ring. In that regard, you should be humbled. You’ve floated around during your entire career being an annoying and loud-mouthed little fuck. Yet, here we are with me leaving retirement to drive to fuckin’ Minnesota just to slap you around one more time. Listen to me, hear what I’m saying; you are not ‘World Champion.’ You are the flavor of the month. You define mediocrity. Pinning Nathan von Liebert is not a headline generating news item. Pinning Nathan von Liebert is common practice, performed by many mindless hacks the world over. On the other hand, pinning Jonny Fly is a career-defining moment. It’s an event with a guest-list that includes just two very lucky people, and it elevated both of them into World Champions.
Pause.
Fly: I am the most dominant wrestler in the history of this company. Past or present, I can step into the ring with any individual who has ever graced a wrestling ring and win. You’re not at that level. You’ve always wanted to be where I’m at, for as long as I’ve known you. I’m going to show you what it takes to be ‘the man’ in this company, and this industry. When this match is over, the excuses are over with it. I don’t want to hear any more of your insecurities coming to light on Twitter. No more of the ‘I almost beat you’ bullshit rhetoric. It’ll be tough, but you will need to embrace what the world already knows. Nathan von Liebert, you are not better than me. You never will be. You are a false World Champion. The king is still Jonny Fly.
Another drawn out pause.
Fly: …and that will never, ever, change.
Fly stares into the screen for a few moments before standing up and approaching the camcorder. He turns off the lens and scene goes to black.
Jonny Fly: Black?
Black: Fly? Holy shit. It’s been a while.
Fly: I want in.
Black: Great. In what, exactly?
Fly: XIII. I want Jay Price.
Black: Aren’t you retired?
Fly: Price versus Fly at XIII. You make the match and I’ll be there.
Black: Okay man, consider it done.
Two week later. Another black screen, another phone call.
Black: Fly?
Fly: Creeping Death. What’s up?
Black: Sooo….Jay Price is out. He’s hurt or something.
Fly: Are you kidding me? Are you FUCKING kidding me?
Black: Yeah, there’s nothing I can do about it. I mean, of course, other than switch you into a match against
Nathan von Liebert.
Fly: Not interested. I’ve thrown him around more times than I can count. I have nothing to prove to that dude.
Black: You had something to prove to Price?
Fly: At XIII, yeah.
Black: He’s the World Champion. You don’t want a match against the World Champion?
Fly: Nope, I’m retired.
Black: May I remind you that you’ve never won at XIII?
Fly: …
Black: You could beat the World Champion AND end that streak all in the same night. Are you still out?
Fly: Fuck you, Black. I’ll be there.
---
Jonny Fly’s Jaguar XK pulls into a random gas station just outside of Minneapolis. Fly promptly exits the vehicle. He straightens out his more-expensive-than-your-yearly salary suit and walks into the station. Upon entering he looks around, finds the counter, and approaches. An older, disheveled man greets the three-time WCF World Champion as he steps toward the counter.
Man: E-yellow! What can I do you for dere, sir?
Fly scrunches his face and scowls at the man.
Fly: What is that accent you have?
Man: Doh-ent know whatcha mean.
Fly: Uh…right. I guess that’s probably normal in this shit-hole. Look, I need some directions. I’m trying to get to The Myth.
Man: Don’t-be-knowin’ what that is, sir.
Fly: I probably should have figured that. You don’t look like city-folk. It’s in St. Paul.
Man: Oh, you tryin’ to get downtown? Lotsa weird folks down-dere.
Fly: This is what it must have felt like if you were the guy filming Fargo.
Man: What?
Fly: I said considering where I’m at right now, I’ll take my chances.
Man: Well you bedder head nort. Take a right out-a da station and go up dat der road aboot tdree (not a spelling mistake, that’s how they talk!) miles and catch Interstate 35 inna da big city.
Fly just stares blankly across the counter. He didn’t understand a word that dude just said.
Man: Hey, wait, dat fancy car there doh-ent have no GPS?
Fly: I’m really surprised you even know what that is. Anyway, it’s all fucked up. I don’t think Jaguar’s normally venture into Minnesota so it’s lost.
A door behind the counter opens and a kid, no more than ten years old, steps out from the back. He runs toward
the station attendant.
Kid: Dad!
Man: Hey dere Timmy!
As the kid finishes hugging his dad’s leg he looks up and sees THE Jonny Fly across the counter staring down at
him.
Kid: Whoa! Dad, dun-chya-no who that is?
Man: Well, ispoze another travler’ looking to get into da city.
Kid: That’s Jonny Fly! He’s a professional wrestler.
Fly: That’s not true. I’m retired.
Kid: Corey Black’s XIII is in St. Paul and you’re here at our station. Is that a coincidence?
Fly cocks his head slightly to the side as a smile curls onto his lips.
Fly: You’re very astute, kid.
Fly leans forward with his upper body now hanging over the counter. He speaks softly downward staring intently into the little boy’s eyes.
Fly: However, if you tell anyone that I…will…murder…you.
Fly gives the kid a wicked wink and stands back up straight. He looks back to the attendant with a cold expression on his face.
Fly: That goes for you too old man. Not a word. Nobody is going to see this coming, and I’m not going to let some quasi-French fucks ruin it.
Silence fills the room. Fly smiles again, turns, and exits the gas station. He gets back into his car and drives away. Next stop, The Myth, the location of his first wrestling match in months.
---
Underneath the winged logo of The Myth in St. Paul, Minnesota Jonny Fly enters through the glass entry-doors of the nightclub. Wearing the same attire as seen in the previous scene, Fly takes a moment at the entrance to soak in the scene of the band playing on the stage in front of him. Despite it being Wednesday, there’s still a few hundred people crowding the stage, enjoying the music, and partying. Finishing his pause, Fly makes eye-contact with the bar area and immediately proceeds toward it. He moves through the crowd and as he approaches the bar he comes across a familiar face. With a beer in hand, Corey Black is seen leaning against the bar watching the band.
Fly: Well, well…
Black turns to see Fly.
Black: Hey, you look like a guy I used to know!
There’s a longer pause after the previous statement. Fly nods his head slowly and stretches out his hand to his former tag-team partner and stable mate. Black grasps it in return.
Black: It’s good to see you.
Fly: Same.
Black: What brings you to The Myth on a Wednesday night?
Fly: I figured I would find you here.
Fly turns away from Black momentarily to order a beer of his own. As he’s served, Fly turns back to one his few friends in the wrestling industry.
Fly: So tell me, what the fuck is Cryogenix?
Black: Uh…yeah.
Fly: It seems like nothing has really changed for you, Black. Still part-time, hanging out under the umbrella of a different stable trying to save the world.
Black: You sound like you think that’s a bad thing.
Fly: I’ve learned over the last few months that the world, even just the wrestling world, isn’t worth saving.
It’s much more fun to be on the other end of the fence.
Black: So, that’s what you’ve been up to?
Fly: More or less. I’ve been doing my thing in New York.
Black: You’ve missed a lot.
Fly: I could really care less.
Black: If you’re so apathetic about wrestling, why did you accept my match?
Fly pauses for a second, not to contemplate his answer, but almost contemplating whether to answer at all.
Fly: Well…I think back at Nathan’s history. I think back to the man who won the One Invitational against nobody worth a shit, and proclaimed that he was going to be the next WCF World Champion. I think back to the man who followed up that proclamation by laying an egg in the title match that followed.
As the man who won that match, Black nods his head approvingly.
Fly: I think back to the man who afterward was sent back to the midcard where he was more comfortable and succeeded me as Television Champion. He actually thought he was going to be the next Jonny Fly or some shit after that. I think back about the proverbial thorn in the side he was to Pantheon, and the things he did to The Polar Phantasm and Nightmare. I think back on the Church of Dark Saints, and the laughable catastrophe they were. I think back to the MANY times I’ve beaten Nathan, the multi-time Flyjobber that he is. I remember distinctly the comments he made after each one, the excuses, the non-acknowledgement, and his refusal to accept that we are not equals in a wrestling ring. Most vividly, I remember the last time we faced.
Black: Why was that so special?
Fly: It was the Torneo Cibernetico match last December. Twelve people started the match, and the finals consisted of only two men – Jonny Fly and Nathan von Liebert. I won that match, of course. I pinned Nathan and sent him on his way. What stuck with me, though, were the things Nathan said leading up to that match. He tried his hardest to portray our previous entanglements as inconsequential. He said that even though I won those matches, I had never pinned him. He said that I was jealous of him, and wasn’t the wrestling GOD that I portray myself as. It was these comments, followed by my victory, which led me to give Nathan a new nickname. He’s the right hand of fucking delusion…and he wasn’t done with the insanity just yet.
Fly pauses briefly and turns toward the bar. He orders a beer for himself and returns his attention to Corey Black.
Fly: You’ve heard the quote that insanity can be defined as doing the same act over and over again and expecting a different result. In the realm of insanity, Nathan never disappoints. After that match, after his comments beforehand and the loss that ensued, Nathan was back at it. He still saw himself fit to declare that even though he lost, he was still the best wrestler in the company. He said that I ‘struggled’ to beat him. He mentioned that he kicked out of a Fly Swatter, that we had some back and forth during the match, so…now he was better than me. What. A. Fucking. Idiot.
Fly is served his beer at the bar and immediately takes a long sip before continuing his rant.
Fly: That’s one hell of a stretch, right? Of course, we’re talking about the right hand of delusion, he’s not known for carrying himself with any level of rationality. Common sense for Nathan von Liebert, is not common at all. It could be by design, it fit into his ‘persona,’ but for a man so quick to think others are jealous of him he’s doing a damn fine job of showing his own jealousy with his refusal to accept reality. Nathan tries to prey off the weakness of others, yet, he’s too damn prideful to admit his failures, to take ownership of his losses. He’s not a man to be feared, no, he’s a man to be parodied. He’s a fuckin’ clown with a shelf-life that’s going to last…two more days.
Black: Oh yeah?
Fly: I don’t know what’s happened since I left. Nathan came out of the shadows, succeeded me as the Ultimate Showdown winner, went on to beat Steve Orbit for the World Title, which is no easy task. I guess this is part where I’m supposed to act like I respect his accomplishments, or act like he’s improved from the run of the mill midcarder who sat in my shadow for the last…howeverthefuck long he’s been employed with WCF.
Black: Actually, EPPW.
Fly: …
Black: I told you a lot has changed.
Fly: Anyway, the ruse is about to end for Nathan. When you brought up the fact that Price bitched out and that you wanted me to face Nathan, I thought back to something he once said to me. Nathan told me after Torneo Cibernetico that he wanted me one on one. Then and only then, would he accept that fact that I am better than him. It never meant much to me at the time. After all, as you know, when you’re the fuckin’ king of professional wrestler there is an endless supply of jobbers chomping at the bit to face you. I never distinguished Nathan from that group…until now.
As Fly pauses, Black takes that time to order and receive another beer. Fly continues.
Fly: The industry will never have a shortage of guys who spend forever telling people how great they are, without the resume to back it up. Nathan was always in that class of wrestler, always. Until Ultimate Showdown his biggest win was still that One Invitational tournament two years ago. How fuckin’ pathetic is that? In the last two months, though, he’s won Showdown, he’s won the World Title, and this month he has a chance to win War. That would be the trifecta of all fuckin’ trifectas. Still…even if that comes to pass, he’s going to have one humbling moment mixed in. He’s still going to lose to me at XIII. I’m bigger, stronger, faster, more decorated, and even despite his sociopathic personality, in a wrestling ring, I’m more feared than Nathan von Liebert. Nathan can go on to become a twenty-time World Champion for all I care, but there will always be one motherfucker he will never beat, and that’s me. After this match, maybe then he’ll finally come to peace with that.
Corey Black smiles and quickly finishes his beer. He sets it on the bar and slaps Fly on the back.
Black: I’m just looking forward to the buy-rates.
Fly: Are you out of here?
Black: Yeah, this band isn’t even that good. I’ll catch up with you on Friday.
Fly nods his head and Black takes off toward the exit. He watches as Black proceeds through the glass doors to the outside before turning back to the bar. Fly finishes his beer and promptly orders another. As the bartender serves him, he receives a tap on the shoulder. Fly spins around to see an extremely attractive brunette staring and smiling at him.
Fly: Well, hello.
Woman: You want to buy me a drink?
Fly: Maybe. First things first, say the word ‘about.’
Woman: About.
Fly: Good, no accent. I’m not sure I could have faked listening to you talk if you had the eskimo accent the
rest of these motherfuckers do.
Woman: Who said we were going to talk?
…boom. Let’s end this right there.
Six Hours Later
The scene begins in Jonny Fly’s penthouse suite at The Saint Paul Hotel in, you guessed it, St. Paul, Minnesota. Its three o’clock in the morning and not a creature was stirring except for…Jonny Fly. We’re in the suite’s bedroom and despite the fact that the outline of a very shapely figure is seen in the bed, Jonny Fly himself is not. Fly has set-up a camcorder on a tripod next to the bed. The lens is directed toward a sofa in which Fly is sitting. A green light emerges on the camcorder and as Fly begins to speak our scene morphs into a first-person view of the man himself from the lens of the camcorder.
Fly: I can’t sleep.
Pause.
Fly: I’m here in St. Paul on the verge of my first wrestling match in months and…I’m actually excited. I think about the reaction from the crowd when my music will hit. Whether they boo or cheer, I don’t give a shit, they will be surprised. I think about the reaction of my opponent, Nathan von Liebert. The wheels in his psychotic head have to be turning. He has to be thinking, contemplating, wondering who this ‘mystery opponent’ is going to be. Am I even on the radar? What’s his reaction going to be when he sees me? Can he hide his emotions in such a small, cozy atmosphere, or am I going to see the fear in his eyes?
Another pause.
Fly: When I retired, I meant it. It surprises even me that I’m sitting here less than 48 hours away from facing the World Champion at XIII. If it surprises me, it’s going to surprise everyone. Coming back to wrestle at XIII interested me because…fuck Jay Price, that’s why. Don’t get me wrong, I respect Jay. I brought him into Pantheon and I enjoyed our run together. However, I’ll never forget the last XIII, the match against Jay, and the World Title that slipped through my fingers. I won’t get retribution this time, but one day…one day Jay Price and I are going to have a rematch at XIII. Until then, I’m stuck with Nathan von Liebert.
Fly runs his hand through his hair. His company adjusts in the bed and Fly quickly looks over to make sure she hasn’t awoken. Satisfied, he continues in a more hushed and direct tone.
Fly: The competitor in me relishes this opportunity. You’re not a competitor if you can’t ‘get up’ for the World Champion, no matter how you think of him. The veteran wrestler in me, the one with eight career World Titles, could give a fuck less. While he won’t know it until I’m standing in front of him, Nathan has everything to gain in this match. What do I have to gain from beating him again? I’m not going to become the World Champion. I’m not going to achieve some feat I haven’t already.
Fly takes another pause, a much longer pause. He stares intently into the camera.
Fly: But…I’m still going to destroy that motherfucker. I’m going to humiliate him for the fuckin’ sport of it. I’m going to win this match for the pure unadulterated fun of it. I’m going to walk into The Myth on Friday and before I leave I’m going to send the entire industry a message. That message being your best still isn’t good enough. It will NEVER be good enough.
Pause.
Fly: Nathan, I want you to know that not everyone gets this. I don’t direct my attention to just anyone. Not all are guaranteed the full ‘experience’ that comes with facing THE Jonny Fly in a wrestling ring. In that regard, you should be humbled. You’ve floated around during your entire career being an annoying and loud-mouthed little fuck. Yet, here we are with me leaving retirement to drive to fuckin’ Minnesota just to slap you around one more time. Listen to me, hear what I’m saying; you are not ‘World Champion.’ You are the flavor of the month. You define mediocrity. Pinning Nathan von Liebert is not a headline generating news item. Pinning Nathan von Liebert is common practice, performed by many mindless hacks the world over. On the other hand, pinning Jonny Fly is a career-defining moment. It’s an event with a guest-list that includes just two very lucky people, and it elevated both of them into World Champions.
Pause.
Fly: I am the most dominant wrestler in the history of this company. Past or present, I can step into the ring with any individual who has ever graced a wrestling ring and win. You’re not at that level. You’ve always wanted to be where I’m at, for as long as I’ve known you. I’m going to show you what it takes to be ‘the man’ in this company, and this industry. When this match is over, the excuses are over with it. I don’t want to hear any more of your insecurities coming to light on Twitter. No more of the ‘I almost beat you’ bullshit rhetoric. It’ll be tough, but you will need to embrace what the world already knows. Nathan von Liebert, you are not better than me. You never will be. You are a false World Champion. The king is still Jonny Fly.
Another drawn out pause.
Fly: …and that will never, ever, change.
Fly stares into the screen for a few moments before standing up and approaching the camcorder. He turns off the lens and scene goes to black.
