Post by Jonny Fly on Sept 24, 2013 9:59:16 GMT -5
July 8th, 2013
Its three minutes past midnight on the Williamsburg Bridge, just east of Manhattan. A dark colored van slowly pulls over to the side of the empty road and flicks off its lights. The side door is opened and a man in restraints is pushed out onto the sidewalk. Two larger men follow him out of the van and corral the other, pushing him toward the edge of the bridge.
Please…no…I have children…
Sorry. Bosses orders.
No!
The man’s pleas are cut short as the other two men pick him up and quickly dump him over the side of the bridge. Seconds later a splash is heard. The lights of the van flick back on and the men retreat back inside. The van peels out and continues down the road.
-----
July 9th, 2013
Do you know why I enjoy throwing people off the bridge?
The sentence is spoken by Jonny Fly. Fly stands in the center of a circular conference table surrounded by his support team within The Society, Fly’s not so creatively renamed New York City criminal enterprise. Side note, it’s obvious that name is eventually going to have to morph into The Flyciety. Stay tuned for that. Anyways, the drones around the table look intently at Fly, waiting for him to continue.
Fly: Why not use a bullet? Or a knife? Fuck, why not torture them? Who doesn’t love to see people beg and squeal, right? Why the bridge? What satisfaction can I truly get out of their death when I can’t even see the last expression on their face?
One man raises his hand to answer.
Fly: Yes, Tom…
The gentleman who has raised his hand, Tom Salemone, is sitting to Fly’s direct right. He’s a large man, nearly as tall as Fly with a more muscular build that's awkwardly been stuffed into a suit for this meeting. Salemone is Fly’s right-hand man, a remnant of the criminal enterprise Fly had run previously and a longtime colleague of Fly’s in his double-life in the New York City criminal underworld. Tom stands to answer the question.
Tom: Not only will the height of the fall surely kill the individual, it disposes of the body at the same time.
Fly smiles and nods his head.
Fly: Precisely. Efficiency, it’s the hallmark of what we do here. Everything that we do, we do efficiently… and effectively. That’s the message that I charge each and every one of you to carry out. This is not personal for you. Nothing that you do is personal. This is business. If you let your personal feelings get in the way of business, my business, then…
Fly pauses and pulls a string from the sleeve of his suit. He smiles almost sadistically as he releases the string toward the ground. He watches it fall all the way to the floor before finishing his comment.
Fly: …you get the bridge.
Fly stops and takes a long look at the men in the room, turning his body slightly to make eye contact with each and every one of them. Satisfied that his message has been received, he concludes the meeting.
Fly: Meeting dismissed.
The men around the table get up and file out of the room, with the exception of Tom who is still standing. Fly notices and looks over questioningly at Tom. Salemone waits for the room to empty before addressing Fly.
Tom: Nice speech, boss.
Fly takes in a deep sigh, almost dejectedly.
Fly: It seems like it’s the same message every week. We’re engaged in petty battles all over the city with cops, feds, gangs, anyone and everyone. We’re supposed to live in the shadows but everyone wants to go out there and wage war like they’re fuckin’ Al Capone or Mickey Cohen.
Tom: Civilized criminals, it’s a tough dynamic to mold.
Fly: Civilized? Fuck no, I want smart criminals. I want controlled criminals. I want them to be level-headed. They need to put their pride aside. I have more pride than anyone in the world, but I’ve never let it get the best of me.
Tom: I mean no disrespect, but I know some people who might disagree with that.
-----
People thought Jonny Fly had lost it. They thought he was showing his true colors when he called Jeff Purse out for accusing Eric Price of hitting him with a car without evidence. People looked on in shock as Fly openly chastised Purse for his relationship with Sarah Twilight and nearly split Pantheon in two over his disgust of Purse and his actions.
They called him a tyrant for his challenge to Steve Orbit to step out from the shadows of Sarah Twilight and Genesis and see the light, or be left without a job. His actions were repeatedly second-guessed and criticized from all corners of the locker room. Groups formed and individuals came out of the woodwork, all in an effort to rid WCF of Pantheon, Fly, and his reign as Chief Executive Officer of the Wrestling Championship Federation.
They were all wrong.
As it turned out, Jonny Fly was serving as the barrier between good and evil in the WCF. Unfortunately, the only person who knew that seemed to be Fly himself. The wrestlers masquerading as revisionist historians will tell you that Fly was manipulated to sell WCF to Eric Price, but is that really the truth? Jonny Fly…manipulated? Does that sound right? All we know is that Fly gave up his fight.
He quit, plain and simple.
One could speculate that Fly realized that the company was beyond saving. He realized that his work was all for nothing. Even his good friends in Pantheon were openly questioning his motives, so, he gave everyone something to question. He sold his majority stake in the company to Eric Price, setting the stage for the various events that has taken place since.
Twilight exposed herself not only as the person behind Purse’s injury, but as raving power-hungry nutcase in cahoots with Eric Price and his group of merry-men, before turning on him. Unlike the last time WCF was under tyrannical rule, Fly wasn’t there to fight for the company. He was gone. Happily retired, and enjoying his renaissance in the shadows of New York City’s criminal underworld.
However, this story’s ending hasn’t yet been told.
…and the call to wrestle never goes away quietly.
-----
We return to the previous scene.
Fly: If you’re referring to how I left WCF and my wrestling career, don’t. That’s ancient history. That wasn’t about pride. That was a realization that I no longer wanted to live that life - that I no longer HAD to live that life. Wrestling was always a tool for other things; wealth, power, and so on. There was no need for it anymore. I don’t need to get into a ring to inflict my ungodly wrath over grown men and women. I can now make a phone call from my office to get the same effect. It’s more, well, it’s more efficient.
Fly smiles at his comment, tying it back to his speech earlier.
Tom: What about the loose ends? You teach, WE teach to never leave loose ends.
Fly: What are you talking about?
Tom: You were betrayed, were you not? Bobby Cario?
A glint of hatred comes over Fly’s eyes, but just momentarily. We can tell that a nerve has been plucked. However, true to his words earlier, Fly puts aside his pride. Instead, he smiles and poignantly mutters…
Fly: Betrayal is a tool used by those who aren’t strong enough to TAKE what they want through confrontation. Remember that.
Tom: Fair point.
Fly: So, how is our boy holding up?
Tom: Find out for yourself. You have dinner with him this evening.
Fly: I almost forgot. I think it’s time to turn up the heat.
Fly begins to walk away, but quickly turns back to Tom.
Fly: Also, I think it’s time to bring you in the loop on where this Carrion business is heading…
-----
Flashback – May 27th, 2013
Fly: Let me ask you a question, Adalfo…
Context clues, baby. The identity of the man in this scene has been revealed. Jonny Fly is speaking with Adalfo Carrion Jr., who is currently running for Mayor of New York City.
Fly: …what do you think your campaign would be willing to do for 30 million dollars?
Fly smirks as Carrion leans back in his chair, his expression one of shock.
Carrion: Is that what you’re offering?
Fly: Perhaps. There’s really no ‘politically correct’ way to put this, but I’m shopping that money around to the candidate that I feel would be interested in a partnership with me.
Carrion: A partnership with you? Regarding what?
Fly: What does the word morals mean to you, Adalfo? Are your morals and beliefs stronger to you than your chance to become Mayor of New York City?
Carrion: I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at.
Fly: I’m telling you that you have a choice to make. I want a seat at the table, that’s what I’m asking for. I want you to do my bidding while in office. You can be the Mayor, but I want to be the guy behind the scenes pulling the strings. Is that clear enough?
Carrion: What kind of things are we talking about? What sort of wrestler involves themselves in politics, anyway?
Fly leans in once again.
Fly: The sort of wrestler who uses wrestling as a front for much, much more fulfilling things.
Carrion: Are these things…criminal?
Without hesitation…
Fly: Yes.
Carrion: Jesus Christ. I…I can’t….
Fly: Let me warn you, if you don’t agree to this I WILL put my support behind another candidate. You can tell me no, but what are the chances the other candidates will do the same? Do you know what they will be able to do with that money? Do you even comprehend the underground influence I can have on this election? I will bury you, Adalfo. I have no moral code. In this world, I only know how to do one thing…and that’s win. Do you want to win?
Carrion: I…I…
Before Carrion can get the words out, Fly reaches into his suit jacket and hands him a check written out for thirty millions dollars. He sets it on the table in front of him.
Fly: Everyone wants to win. Take the check and put it to good use. I’ll be in touch.
Fly gets up from his seat and walks away leaving Adalfo Carrion Jr. by himself. Carrion stares blankly at the check before making the only decision he can make. He stuffs the check into his pocket. Jonny Fly has just successfully bought a New York City politician.
-----
The scene begins at the Blue Fin Restaurant in Times Square. We proceed through the all-glass entryway and continue straight past the hostess into the restaurant's seating area. As we walk forward a flight of stairs appears on our right and we turn and ascend the staircase into the private second floor dining area. We immediately spot Jonny Fly sitting alone on a U-shaped booth. About a minute later his dinner guest, Adolfo Carrion Jr. joins him at the table. As Carrion takes a seat on the opposite end of the U shaped booth, Fly lifts his suit sleeve up to look at his watch.
Fly: Look at that, right on time. I like a man who shows up on time.
Carrion: Really? This is the first time you’ve been on-time for one of our meetings in three months.
Fly: What can I say? I’m a busy man. This meeting is extra important though, so I made sure to clear my schedule.
Carrion: Why is that?
Fly: You’ve slipped in the poll numbers.
Carrion: It’s the ebb and flow of any campaign. The numbers go up and down every time a commercial comes on television. I’m not worried about it.
Fly: It’s more than that. The people of New York City don’t like you. That’s a big problem.
Carrion: My stance in favor of commercial casinos in downtown New York City isn’t helping.
Fly smiles, a subtle hint that the aforementioned stance of Carrion’s is one of Fly’s doing. Before Fly responds the waiter approaches the table and passes out two menus.
Waiter: Ah, Mr. Carrion. Good to see you this evening. Would you care for a drink?
Carrion: Nothing for me, thanks.
The waiter turns toward Fly.
Fly: Tom Collins on the rocks. Make it a double. Also by double, I mean triple.
The waiters nods and disappears.
Fly: Well, at least our waiter likes you. That’s one vote. Though I suppose spending sixty million dollars on one vote isn’t a good use of my money.
Fly smirks, but Carrion sits stone-faced in his chair unwilling to respond to Fly’s snide remark.
Fly: I’m going to level with you. Your campaign is floundering. I’ve done nothing but inject money into it without even the faintest glint of hope that you’re actually going to win.
Carrion: It’s still early-
Fly cuts him off by banging his fist loudly on the table. The noise draws the attention of several surrounding tables but Fly ignores their stares and proceeds with a hushed, but stern, voice.
Fly: I. DONT. WANT. EXCUSES. I don't lose. I’m not sure you fully understand what I meant when I said that.
Fly reaches into his suit jacket pocket and pulls out a folded picture. He unfolds it and sets it on the table in front of Carrion. Carrion stares wide-eyed at the picture as the color leaves his face.
Carrion: My…my kids…how do you have that? WHY do you have that?
Fly: I need you to understand how serious this is. I need your complete focus. We’re going to win this election, or bad things are going to happen to good people.
As Fly makes his last statement he glances briefly at the picture on the table.
Carrion: You fucking monster. Don’t you even think about it…
Fly: Hey! Focus. I don’t want to. Trust me. But, you have one single job to do, and I’ve made that job very easy. All you have to do is win this election and I’m giving you a blank check to make it happen. How hard can it be? This doesn’t have to play out like this.
Carrion: You’re forcing me to take stances that are unpopular! The people of New York City don’t want legalized gambling, prostitution, and drugs. What else can I do?
Fly: You’re the politician. Figure it out.
Carrion: My success as a politician comes from honesty. The perception was that I was authentic and trustworthy. It’s a pretty simple formula. Now, being honest is what’s hurting my numbers. You can’t make a city of eight and half million people change their stance on drugs, prostitution, and gambling overnight, no matter how much money you throw at it. Not to mention, my opponent is feasting on it. Do you know him, by the way?
Fly: I do not.
Carrion: That’s surprising, considering you and he…
Once again Fly cuts Carrion off. He holds his hand up in a ‘stop’ motion. He reaches back into his suit jacket pocket and pulls out a check and sets it on the table. He grabs the picture of Carrion’s kids and places it back into his pocket.
Fly: Thirty million more and here is what you’re going to do with it: You’re going to buy a reputable economist and have him forge a study showing the amount of tax dollars legalized gambling, prostitution, and drugs will create for this city. Go a step further, show what that means for each families pocketbook. Show them how much they will save. Then, work on breaking the stereotypes; show them examples like Portugal and their success in decriminalizing drugs. Create your own information that backs up your political stance and make that information work for you. Show yourself as progressive, the candidate that is thinking outside of the box to fix all that ails this city.
Carrion looks down at the check and takes in a sigh.
Carrion: You’re a real fucking bastard. I should have never taken that first check.
Fly: Face it Adalfo, we’re in this together. I’m invested in this as much as you are. Our destinies are intertwined. We’ll either rule this city together, or I’ll be out of money and you’ll be planning the funeral for your children. I happen to believe my plight would be worse.
Carrion: That’s because you’re not a father.
Fly smirks.
Fly: How would you even know? You don't know anything about me.
A silence comes over the table. After an extended awkward pause, Carrion reaches onto the table and takes possession of the check.
Carrion: Since we’re going to be acting like friends for the foreseeable future, perhaps there is something that your…skills…could be useful for. I have a problem.
Fly: What type of problem?
Carrion reaches into his pocket and pulls out a playing card with the picture of a Galapagos tortoise on it. Fly picks up the card and turns it over, seeing nothing on the other side.
Fly: I don’t understand.
Carrion: Someone is sleeping with my wife. Whoever that someone is, he seems to think it’s funny to leave his calling card on my bed when he’s done.
Fly: That seems like a stretch…
Carrion: It’s not. If this were to come out, it would look pretty bad too. How can I run a city when I can’t even keep control my own home?
Fly: I see. So you want me to find this…turtle…person?
Carrion: Don’t you think that would be in both of our best interests?
Fly smiles and nods his head slowly. He grabs hold of his drink and down it in one large gulp. He grabs his wallet of our of his back pocket and sets a twenty dollar bill on the table before rising out of his seat.
Fly: I’m on it. I’ll see you soon.
With that, Fly turns and leaves the table. He walks back downstairs and makes way toward the front exit of the restaurant. Upon arriving outside on the sidewalk we see two large men in black suits waiting for him. They walk up to Fly who is busy scanning through the crowd on the street. Softly, as to not he heard, Fly gives instructions to his men.
Fly: Grab his children. You have three hours. Stash them in the safehouse, give them a sedative so they don't remember anything, and put someone in charge of taking care of them.
The men nod and shuffle off obediently. Fly watches them leave before reaching for his cell phone. He dials a number with one hand while holding the card with the Galapagos tortoise in the other. As the phone is answered, Fly speaks.
Fly: You couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you?
The scene fades out.
July 10th, 2013
Our scene begins at The Society’s operations center, a warehouse in Brooklyn on the East River with a direct view of Manhattan. Adolfo Carrion Jr. enters the warehouse through the front entrance on the ground floor. We follow up him as he moves to the right and grabs the steel wrap-around staircase that leads to the second floor catwalk the leads toward Jonny Fly’s glass encased office. As we approach we see Fly on the phone. He notices Carrion approaching and quickly hangs up the call as the mayoral candidate enters his office.
Fly: This is a surprise visit.
Without any hesitation, Carrion bolts toward Fly and tries to jump over the desk and tackle him. Using the instincts that made him a decorated wrestler, Fly is able to grab hold of Carrion’s head as he lunges over the desk and slams it violently onto the desktop. Carrion lets out a yelp and rolls off the desk to the ground. A small stream of blood begins to trickle out of his nose. Fly casually gets up from his seat and walks over to Carrion and stands over him.
Fly: What the fuck has gotten into you? I could kill you right now.
There’s hate in Carrion’s eyes. He wipes the blood from underneath his nose and pops back up to his feet in defiance.
Carrion: Where are my kids!? Where have you taken them?
Fly goes silent momentarily. He lets out a soft sigh before turning and returning to his chair. He looks back toward Carrion.
Fly: Sit, please.
We can tell that Carrion doesn’t want to sit, but he obliges anyway. As he sits down Fly passes over a few Kleenex for him to wipe off.
Fly: First off, there is only one thing that has changed in your kid’s lives. They will not be seeing their dad on an everyday basis. Other than that, their lives will remain the same. My people will take care of them as if they were their own. Most importantly, they’re safe. That’s all you need to know. Second off…
Carrion: NO. Absolutely not. Tell me where they are or I’ll end this right now.
Fly scoffs at the comment and opens the middle desk drawer beneath him. He pulls a pistol from the drawer and slides it over to Carrion.
Fly: Try it. Go ahead. End it.
Carrion pauses, debating on whether or not to pick up the gun.
Fly: This exact moment…right now…this is the difference between the two of us. If I was in your seat I would have already killed me. Your threats are empty. You don’t have the stomach to do anything about this. That’s why you need me. I do the dirty work for you. I’m the muscle behind your campaign, the motherfucker who gets shit done.
Carrion: No, you’re a thug and this city is better off without you.
Fly: What are you going to do about it? You can’t go to the authorities, you’ll disgrace yourself. What would your children think of you if they knew that you were nothing more than a crooked politician getting in cahoots with some ‘thug’? Plus, what would my people do with your kids if they knew their daddy betrayed us?
That’s the motivation Carrion needed. He picks up the gun and instantly pulls the trigger. …nothing happens. The gun is empty.
Fly: My turn.
Unbeknown to us, Fly has been holding his pistol on his lap the entire time. He lifts it and shoots, purposely missing Carrion and instead shattering the glass wall behind him. Fly keeps the gun fixed on Carrion as he shields himself from the glass crumbing on top of him and holding his ears from the sound. Fly rises to his feet and circles around the desk and positions himself behind Carrion. He leans down and whispers into his ear.
Fly: Listen very carefully. The next time you threaten me, your right, this will be over. It will be over for you and your entire family. You will do nothing but what I tell you, when I tell you, from now on. You have lost all of your freedom to act in any form or fashion without my permission. Consider your children as incentive. If you want to see them again, you’re going to move your entire campaign into this building where I can keep my eye on you.
Carrion: You didn’t need to go this far.
Fly: When are you going to wake up? This isn’t about you. You’re a pawn in a much larger game. All I’m asking you to do is act like it. I have more at stake here than you can even comprehend, and I’m not the type of man that will sit idly by and let my fate be decided by others. Until the election is over, your children are my children and you’re my bitch. Do we understand one another?
There is no response. Carrion can’t bring himself to agree to this, even if on the inside he already has.
Fly: I’ll take your silence as a yes. You’re dismissed. I’ll have your office set-up downstairs immediately.
Silently and dejectedly, Carrion gets up. He brushes by Fly to walk out of the office but Fly quickly grabs him and stops him.
Fly: One more thing, about your wife. I have a team following her. So far, nothing has happened. I’ll keep you posted. Also, you may want to tell her your kids are on a little vacation.
Carrion nods and without another word exits the office. Fly stands in his doorway and watches as Carrion walks back down the catwalk. The scene slowly dissolves to black.
July 18th, 2013
Jonny Fly and his top associate, Tome Salemone, are seen inside of Fly’s Jaguar XK. Fly is driving in downtown Manhattan with Tom in the passenger seat. A phone rings and Fly presses a button on his steering wheel to answer the call and direct it through the car’s speakers.
Fly: Former world's greatest wrestler speaking.
“Jonny, it’s Steve Anderson at Gallup. The latest poll numbers just came in. Carrion is still trailing by 8 points.”
Without an answer, Fly hangs up the call.
Fly: Jesus fuckin’ christ.
Tom: That’s not that bad. He’s two points up from last week and there’s still plenty of...
Fly: Don’t even finish that thought. I don’t want to hear it.
A silence ensues. You can sense Fly’s frustration just in the way he’s driving. He’s swerving in and out of the lanes and aggressively tailgating the drivers in front of him.
Tom: You need an outlet for your frustrations.
Fly: That’s why the world gave us hookers.
Tom: I was thinking of something more...familiar to you.
Fly: Don’t even say it.
Tom: Come on, there has to be some part of you that misses the competition.
Fly: You just want me to give you more control while I’m out travelling to whothefuckknowswhere every week.
Tom: We operate in the shadows. What’s a bigger shadow than a decorated and highly public career as a professional wrestler? Your biggest contribution to this organization is always going to be deflecting attention off of it using your own notoriety and image.
Fly: I’m done with that part of my life. There’s nothing left there for me.
Tom: How is it possible to achieve EVERYTHING you ever wanted? There has to be something out there for you, some unfinished business, something…
Fly: I don’t know. Maybe. Still, that’s not what drives me anymore.
Tom: Tell me this, what are you going to do when your man is in office and you have this city at your fingertips? When the new mayor enacts our proposals, what’s left for us to do? The money will be rolling in on its own.
Fly: There’s always something to do.
Fly’s response forces silence from Tom. The two continue driving silently for close to a minute before a flash of blue strobe in the rearview mirror catches Fly’s attention.
Fly: What the fuck?
Tom turns around and looks out the back window as Fly stares into the rearview mirror.
Tom: Cops?
Fly: Worse. Black Ford Explorer, that means Feds.
Fly begins to slow down and pulls off onto the shoulder of the road. He puts the car in park and expectantly rolls down his window.
Fly: Don’t say anything.
Just as he finishes his statement, a middle-aged and stoic looking female FBI agent appears in his window. As she takes off her sunglasses and stares into the car, Fly does what Jonny Fly does, and checks her out in her black suit, pencil skirt, and heels.
Fly: This must be a mistake; my birthday isn’t for another two months.
The agent stares stone-faced at Fly, ignoring the quip.
Agent: License and registration please.
Fly: There’s no need for that. I’m Jonny Fly. I assume you knew that already before you decided to pull me over and waste my time.
Agent: Actually, I didn’t. There’s a bulletin out for this car. It appears it was reported stolen just three minutes ago.
Fly: What?
The female agent finally shows some emotion, cracking a small smile. Always sharp, Fly immediately pieces together what is going on.
Fly: You bitch! You can’t do that.
Agent: Do what? Stop a suspect I believe to be driving a stolen car? I can certainly do that, in fact, it happens to be my job. If you could, Mr. Fly, step out of the car for me.
Fly looks over to Tom.
Fly: Drive the car to Federal Plaza. I’ll be out in an hour.
Fly opens the driver’s door and steps out of the car. He’s immediately led by the FBI agent back to her car. The scene fades away.
July 18th, 2013
The new scene begins in your standard interrogation room. It’s a square room with three blank walls, one mirrored wall, and a table with two chairs placed in the middle of the room. Jonny Fly sits in one chair facing the mirrored wall while the female FBI agent from the previous scene is situated in a chair across from him. The two are in the middle of a conversation.
Agent: Well, Mr. Fly, I do apologize for the mix-up regarding your vehicle. I’ll be sure to remove the bulletin and clear this up…as soon as this meeting is done.
Fly: This meeting is done, Agent Williams
Agent Williams: Not quite. I mean, after all, you are here so we might as well make this productive. What can you tell me about Adalfo Carrion Jr.?
Fly pauses momentarily, clearly unsure of how to proceed. Does she know of Fly’s involvement with the mayoral candidate?
Fly: He’s the guy running for Mayor, yes?
Agent Williams: Let’s not act like you two don’t know one another, Jonny. Have a little more respect for me than that. You know exactly who he is.
Fly: Then perhaps you would like to be more specific in what you’re asking.
Agent Williams: Okay, how about this. Carrion’s wife has reported their children as missing. One day earlier a witness puts you in a restaurant having an argument with him. Do you want to explain?
Fly: He wanted my autograph. I told him he had to pay for it like everyone else. He got upset, talked about how he was going to be mayor and how special he was. It was quite embarrassing. He’s like a five year old when he doesn’t get his way.
Agent Williams: You really expect me to believe that?
Fly: My past…dealings…with the FBI lead me to believe that you are seekers of the truth. Feel free to verify that information with Adalfo himself. I could care less.
Agent Williams: Yes, your past dealings with the bureau are something. You’re one of the few individuals in our history to be given immunity for crimes committed, even despite the fact that there’s a contingent of the bureau that blames you for the murder of one of our agents just last year.
Fly: I remember that. Then you guys pinned it on my boss, Seth Lerch. It was really a low point for you guys, wasn’t it? Then again, what should I expect from an organization that makes up fake stolen car reports just to bring someone in for a chat. Don’t you have a file somewhere that would have told you I would come in and chat just for the simple price of a titty flash?
Agent Williams: Once again, Jonny, and also for the last time…I would urge you to show some respect. I’m nothing like the other agents you’ve dealt with.
Fly: I agree. I wouldn’t sleep with the others. Too manly. That’s not my style. I like my partners submissive.
Wink.
Agent Williams: Well, since we’ve broken the ice. How about I just come home with you? Call it a warranted search of your premises for the purpose of an official investigation against you into the whereabouts of Selena and Melinda Carrion?
The female agent smiles as she delivers the previous response. Equally quick with the quip, Fly responds.
Fly: But, I don’t even know your first name. I have standards; I don’t just bring everyone home with me. They have to be a special sort.
The agent smiles and rises to her feet.
Agent Williams: I don’t know what you’re up to, not yet, but I will figure it out in due time. Consider that your only notice. You’re free to go.
Fly nods his head approvingly and rises to his feet as well. He pushes in his chair and begins to make his way toward the door.
Agent Williams: One last thing, who are you voting for mayor?
Fly stops dead and turns back toward the agent. He approaches her with a look of confusion on his face.
Fly: Why do you ask that?
Agent Williams: Carrion, there’s just something about him that I’m not sure I can…trust.
Fly spends the next few seconds staring into the agent’s eyes, looking for some clue as to the reasoning for her questions. Getting nothing, he simply turns and leaves the room without another word spoken.
August 4th, 2013
It’s the unlikeliest of meetings. We’re at a Penn State Wrestling Federation house show in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. A door with the nameplate ‘Gravedigger’ stands in front of us. We open the door to reveal a sight that would shock most of the WCF faithful. Long-time rivals Jonny Fly and Gravedigger talking peacefully in the PSWF owner’s office. Digger sits behind his desk looking rather intrigued as Fly, dressed in a suit, stands in front of his desk talking.
Fly: …I promise I will cut you and MS-13 in on the profits. The plan is flawless. I came up with it, of course it’s flawless.
Gravedigger folds his hands in front of him and leans back in his chair as he contemplates whatever offer he’s just been presented.
Gravedigger: So, this is what you’ve been up to since you retired?
Fly: I’m not here as a wrestler. I’m here as a businessman.
Gravedigger: I’m here as a businessman too, and my business right now is wrestling. So, I have a proposition of my own. The PSWF World Champion, Keynan Isara, is in the ring right now for a scheduled promo. I want you to go interrupt him and challenge him to a match. If you win, we have a deal.
Fly shakes his head ‘no.’
Fly: Absolutely not. I’m retired. I don’t wrestle anymore.
Gravedigger shrugs his shoulders.
Gravedigger: Then I guess we have nothing left to discuss, Jonny.
Fly doesn’t move. He seems to be frozen in thought. After a few more moments he takes in a deep sigh.
Fly: Fine.
Gravedigger: What’s that?
Fly: I’ll wrestle him. You have a deal.
Gravedigger smiles and rises to his feet to extend his hand, which Fly grasps to solidify the agreement. Fly turns and exits Gravedigger’s office. Upon leaving he takes a right and walks quickly down a hallway to the backstage area. He scales a small flight of steel steps onto the stage. A staffer in charge of the sound system immediately approaches.
Staffer: What is your music?
Fly looks at the staffer and doesn’t have to answer that question.
Staffer: Oh…whoa! Jonny Fly? What are you….nevermind, I’ll have you que’d up in thirty seconds.
The staffer hurriedly leaves Fly to himself. Fly takes a few steps forward and now stands directly behind the curtain. He takes off his suit jacket and tosses it to the floor, unbuttons and rolls up his sleeves, and finally loosens the top button on his dress shirt. He lowers his head and looks at the ground. Ten seconds later, “300 Violin Orchestra” hits over the PSWF sound system.
Fly raises his head.
The instrumental sounds of his theme song entrancing and confusing the crowd.
…and then, for the first time in months, Jonny Fly pushes his way through the curtain.
We continue our scene from Fly’s perspective. The crowd has exploded upon his presence on the stage. Looking down the ramp, Keynan Isara is at the front of the ring looking up at Fly with a thoroughly confused expression on his face. Fly could care less about the crowd, or the confusion of his upcoming opponent. He’s here for business, and business stipulates that he has to get back into the wrestling ring.
So, he begins the walk.
Slowly, confidently, Jonny Fly makes his way down the ramp to ringside. With the help of the steel ring steps, he elevates himself into the ring. Inside the ring Fly slowly approaches Isara. The PSWF World Champion mouths a few comments asking Fly why he’s interrupting him. Fly responds with a smile and takes a moment to look around at the capacity crowd, almost all of whom are standing and watching the movements of the self-proclaimed ‘most dominant wrestler in WCF history’ with curiosity. After scanning through the crowd Fly returns his gaze to Isara. Without a moment’s notice…he strikes.
Fly connects with a brutal right hook to the side of Isara’s face. Then another. Then another. Isara stumbles backwards against the ropes. Fly grabs his arm and violently whips him across the ring. Isara hits the ropes and almost immediately upon bouncing off is destroyed with a clothesline. Fly stops, and takes a moment to look down at his fallen opponent…the crowd almost urging him to continue his assault.
Instead, Fly smirks. It’s that unmistakable smug and arrogant look that defines his personality. The face of a man that’s never more at home than when he’s throwing around an opponent in a wrestling ring. The camera zooms in on Fly’s face, and then slowly fades away.
Present Day
Jonny Fly sits in his living room. He’s relaxing comfortably on a love seat while WCF interviewing extraordinaire Hank Brown sits directly across from him on a couch. A tripod camera emblazed with the WCF logo is fixed directly behind the couch and pointed toward Fly. We catch this scene mid-interview.
Fly: It’s the pull, Hank. It’s tough to resist.
As Fly says the previous statement he reaches to his left and takes a sip from a mixed drink that’s sitting on an end table. As Fly sets the drink back down, he continues.
Fly: Think about the power of being able to say you’re the best in the world at something. It doesn’t matter what it is, it could be anything. Think about the world and its seven billion inhabitants. Most are satisfied with being good at something, but good has never been enough for me. That’s why in a wrestling ring there is only one Jonny Fly, and I’m surrounded by seven billion other jobbers.
Brown: While you’ve been gone, several other wrestlers have stepped forward and laid claim to the top spot in this industry. Why do you think you’re still the best in the world?
Fly: Who are these individuals you’re speaking of?
Brown: Have you not been following?
Fly: Not very closely.
A surprised looks comes over Hank Brown’s face. He quickly regroups.
Hank: Well, obviously Eric Price. Sarah Twilight. Steve Orbit. Nathan von Liebert is the current World Champion.
Fly: Good wrestlers. Every one of them.
Hank’s look of surprise returns.
Hank: I’m not sure you’ve…ever…referred to a rival wrestler as ‘good.’
Fly: They’re good wrestlers Hank, but they’re not me. At this time one year ago I was the WCF World Champion and the undisputed king of WCF. I wasn’t scheduled to appear in the War match. I was instead focused on a triple-threat title defense against Waylon Cash and FPV. It was a ‘gimmie’ match. Just prior to my defense I was arrested in a plot cooked up by Seth Lerch to remove me from the company. I never made that title defense. I lost the World Title, but not because I was beaten. I look at what could have been. What if it was me who went to One as the World Champion? Eric Price, and the personality that he displayed over the last few months, that would have never existed. His scheme with Sarah Twilight would have never been allowed to come to fruition. Those two certainly wouldn’t have been fighting over World Titles, and Bravado would absolutely not exist. Would Steve Orbit have been World Champion? Maybe. Nathan von Liebert? Maybe. Let’s be perfectly clear though, I’m the absolute ONLY person in this industry who has ever been able to tame Nathan. Ask him who’s the one motherfucker he can’t get past. Like so many others, the answer is Jonny Fly. My influence on the past and current events of this company, and the wrestlers within it, is undeniable. As I sit here today, I don’t see that I’ve ever rightfully lost the top spot in this industry.
Brown: Yet, here we are on the verge of War once again, and you’re going to have to get past every one of those men and women to win War. It’s a tough road for anyone to travel. It’s the toughest match for any wrestler to win.
Fly: I’m not worried about it. I trust my ability. For the first time in a long while I went into a wrestling ring last month and destroyed some whoeverthefuck who proudly proclaimed himself as a ‘World Champion.’ Forget that a wrestling minor league shouldn't be allowed to name their highest title as such, this was an individual who thousands of rabid Philadelphian wrestling fans were foaming at their mouths to watch. He was the apex wrestler of the Penn State Wrestling Federation, and I slapped him around like a piñata. Then, I went into XIII and enforced my dominance over another ‘World Champion.’ I made Nathan von Liebert look like a fuckin’ child. II’ve made hundreds, if not THOUSANDS, of wrestlers look the same way. What are 30 some more to a man like me?
Brown: You mentioned that you just went into a wrestling ring for the first time in a long time last month during an impromptu match for the Penn State Wrestling Federation. As you mentioned, you also faced Nathan von Liebert at XIII. What else have you been up to since we last saw you?
A twinkle is seen in Fly’s eyes. He doesn’t respond initially to the question, he just smiles.
The scene quickly dissolves.
Its three minutes past midnight on the Williamsburg Bridge, just east of Manhattan. A dark colored van slowly pulls over to the side of the empty road and flicks off its lights. The side door is opened and a man in restraints is pushed out onto the sidewalk. Two larger men follow him out of the van and corral the other, pushing him toward the edge of the bridge.
Please…no…I have children…
Sorry. Bosses orders.
No!
The man’s pleas are cut short as the other two men pick him up and quickly dump him over the side of the bridge. Seconds later a splash is heard. The lights of the van flick back on and the men retreat back inside. The van peels out and continues down the road.
-----
July 9th, 2013
Do you know why I enjoy throwing people off the bridge?
The sentence is spoken by Jonny Fly. Fly stands in the center of a circular conference table surrounded by his support team within The Society, Fly’s not so creatively renamed New York City criminal enterprise. Side note, it’s obvious that name is eventually going to have to morph into The Flyciety. Stay tuned for that. Anyways, the drones around the table look intently at Fly, waiting for him to continue.
Fly: Why not use a bullet? Or a knife? Fuck, why not torture them? Who doesn’t love to see people beg and squeal, right? Why the bridge? What satisfaction can I truly get out of their death when I can’t even see the last expression on their face?
One man raises his hand to answer.
Fly: Yes, Tom…
The gentleman who has raised his hand, Tom Salemone, is sitting to Fly’s direct right. He’s a large man, nearly as tall as Fly with a more muscular build that's awkwardly been stuffed into a suit for this meeting. Salemone is Fly’s right-hand man, a remnant of the criminal enterprise Fly had run previously and a longtime colleague of Fly’s in his double-life in the New York City criminal underworld. Tom stands to answer the question.
Tom: Not only will the height of the fall surely kill the individual, it disposes of the body at the same time.
Fly smiles and nods his head.
Fly: Precisely. Efficiency, it’s the hallmark of what we do here. Everything that we do, we do efficiently… and effectively. That’s the message that I charge each and every one of you to carry out. This is not personal for you. Nothing that you do is personal. This is business. If you let your personal feelings get in the way of business, my business, then…
Fly pauses and pulls a string from the sleeve of his suit. He smiles almost sadistically as he releases the string toward the ground. He watches it fall all the way to the floor before finishing his comment.
Fly: …you get the bridge.
Fly stops and takes a long look at the men in the room, turning his body slightly to make eye contact with each and every one of them. Satisfied that his message has been received, he concludes the meeting.
Fly: Meeting dismissed.
The men around the table get up and file out of the room, with the exception of Tom who is still standing. Fly notices and looks over questioningly at Tom. Salemone waits for the room to empty before addressing Fly.
Tom: Nice speech, boss.
Fly takes in a deep sigh, almost dejectedly.
Fly: It seems like it’s the same message every week. We’re engaged in petty battles all over the city with cops, feds, gangs, anyone and everyone. We’re supposed to live in the shadows but everyone wants to go out there and wage war like they’re fuckin’ Al Capone or Mickey Cohen.
Tom: Civilized criminals, it’s a tough dynamic to mold.
Fly: Civilized? Fuck no, I want smart criminals. I want controlled criminals. I want them to be level-headed. They need to put their pride aside. I have more pride than anyone in the world, but I’ve never let it get the best of me.
Tom: I mean no disrespect, but I know some people who might disagree with that.
-----
People thought Jonny Fly had lost it. They thought he was showing his true colors when he called Jeff Purse out for accusing Eric Price of hitting him with a car without evidence. People looked on in shock as Fly openly chastised Purse for his relationship with Sarah Twilight and nearly split Pantheon in two over his disgust of Purse and his actions.
They called him a tyrant for his challenge to Steve Orbit to step out from the shadows of Sarah Twilight and Genesis and see the light, or be left without a job. His actions were repeatedly second-guessed and criticized from all corners of the locker room. Groups formed and individuals came out of the woodwork, all in an effort to rid WCF of Pantheon, Fly, and his reign as Chief Executive Officer of the Wrestling Championship Federation.
They were all wrong.
As it turned out, Jonny Fly was serving as the barrier between good and evil in the WCF. Unfortunately, the only person who knew that seemed to be Fly himself. The wrestlers masquerading as revisionist historians will tell you that Fly was manipulated to sell WCF to Eric Price, but is that really the truth? Jonny Fly…manipulated? Does that sound right? All we know is that Fly gave up his fight.
He quit, plain and simple.
One could speculate that Fly realized that the company was beyond saving. He realized that his work was all for nothing. Even his good friends in Pantheon were openly questioning his motives, so, he gave everyone something to question. He sold his majority stake in the company to Eric Price, setting the stage for the various events that has taken place since.
Twilight exposed herself not only as the person behind Purse’s injury, but as raving power-hungry nutcase in cahoots with Eric Price and his group of merry-men, before turning on him. Unlike the last time WCF was under tyrannical rule, Fly wasn’t there to fight for the company. He was gone. Happily retired, and enjoying his renaissance in the shadows of New York City’s criminal underworld.
However, this story’s ending hasn’t yet been told.
…and the call to wrestle never goes away quietly.
-----
We return to the previous scene.
Fly: If you’re referring to how I left WCF and my wrestling career, don’t. That’s ancient history. That wasn’t about pride. That was a realization that I no longer wanted to live that life - that I no longer HAD to live that life. Wrestling was always a tool for other things; wealth, power, and so on. There was no need for it anymore. I don’t need to get into a ring to inflict my ungodly wrath over grown men and women. I can now make a phone call from my office to get the same effect. It’s more, well, it’s more efficient.
Fly smiles at his comment, tying it back to his speech earlier.
Tom: What about the loose ends? You teach, WE teach to never leave loose ends.
Fly: What are you talking about?
Tom: You were betrayed, were you not? Bobby Cario?
A glint of hatred comes over Fly’s eyes, but just momentarily. We can tell that a nerve has been plucked. However, true to his words earlier, Fly puts aside his pride. Instead, he smiles and poignantly mutters…
Fly: Betrayal is a tool used by those who aren’t strong enough to TAKE what they want through confrontation. Remember that.
Tom: Fair point.
Fly: So, how is our boy holding up?
Tom: Find out for yourself. You have dinner with him this evening.
Fly: I almost forgot. I think it’s time to turn up the heat.
Fly begins to walk away, but quickly turns back to Tom.
Fly: Also, I think it’s time to bring you in the loop on where this Carrion business is heading…
-----
Flashback – May 27th, 2013
Fly: Let me ask you a question, Adalfo…
Context clues, baby. The identity of the man in this scene has been revealed. Jonny Fly is speaking with Adalfo Carrion Jr., who is currently running for Mayor of New York City.
Fly: …what do you think your campaign would be willing to do for 30 million dollars?
Fly smirks as Carrion leans back in his chair, his expression one of shock.
Carrion: Is that what you’re offering?
Fly: Perhaps. There’s really no ‘politically correct’ way to put this, but I’m shopping that money around to the candidate that I feel would be interested in a partnership with me.
Carrion: A partnership with you? Regarding what?
Fly: What does the word morals mean to you, Adalfo? Are your morals and beliefs stronger to you than your chance to become Mayor of New York City?
Carrion: I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at.
Fly: I’m telling you that you have a choice to make. I want a seat at the table, that’s what I’m asking for. I want you to do my bidding while in office. You can be the Mayor, but I want to be the guy behind the scenes pulling the strings. Is that clear enough?
Carrion: What kind of things are we talking about? What sort of wrestler involves themselves in politics, anyway?
Fly leans in once again.
Fly: The sort of wrestler who uses wrestling as a front for much, much more fulfilling things.
Carrion: Are these things…criminal?
Without hesitation…
Fly: Yes.
Carrion: Jesus Christ. I…I can’t….
Fly: Let me warn you, if you don’t agree to this I WILL put my support behind another candidate. You can tell me no, but what are the chances the other candidates will do the same? Do you know what they will be able to do with that money? Do you even comprehend the underground influence I can have on this election? I will bury you, Adalfo. I have no moral code. In this world, I only know how to do one thing…and that’s win. Do you want to win?
Carrion: I…I…
Before Carrion can get the words out, Fly reaches into his suit jacket and hands him a check written out for thirty millions dollars. He sets it on the table in front of him.
Fly: Everyone wants to win. Take the check and put it to good use. I’ll be in touch.
Fly gets up from his seat and walks away leaving Adalfo Carrion Jr. by himself. Carrion stares blankly at the check before making the only decision he can make. He stuffs the check into his pocket. Jonny Fly has just successfully bought a New York City politician.
-----
The scene begins at the Blue Fin Restaurant in Times Square. We proceed through the all-glass entryway and continue straight past the hostess into the restaurant's seating area. As we walk forward a flight of stairs appears on our right and we turn and ascend the staircase into the private second floor dining area. We immediately spot Jonny Fly sitting alone on a U-shaped booth. About a minute later his dinner guest, Adolfo Carrion Jr. joins him at the table. As Carrion takes a seat on the opposite end of the U shaped booth, Fly lifts his suit sleeve up to look at his watch.
Fly: Look at that, right on time. I like a man who shows up on time.
Carrion: Really? This is the first time you’ve been on-time for one of our meetings in three months.
Fly: What can I say? I’m a busy man. This meeting is extra important though, so I made sure to clear my schedule.
Carrion: Why is that?
Fly: You’ve slipped in the poll numbers.
Carrion: It’s the ebb and flow of any campaign. The numbers go up and down every time a commercial comes on television. I’m not worried about it.
Fly: It’s more than that. The people of New York City don’t like you. That’s a big problem.
Carrion: My stance in favor of commercial casinos in downtown New York City isn’t helping.
Fly smiles, a subtle hint that the aforementioned stance of Carrion’s is one of Fly’s doing. Before Fly responds the waiter approaches the table and passes out two menus.
Waiter: Ah, Mr. Carrion. Good to see you this evening. Would you care for a drink?
Carrion: Nothing for me, thanks.
The waiter turns toward Fly.
Fly: Tom Collins on the rocks. Make it a double. Also by double, I mean triple.
The waiters nods and disappears.
Fly: Well, at least our waiter likes you. That’s one vote. Though I suppose spending sixty million dollars on one vote isn’t a good use of my money.
Fly smirks, but Carrion sits stone-faced in his chair unwilling to respond to Fly’s snide remark.
Fly: I’m going to level with you. Your campaign is floundering. I’ve done nothing but inject money into it without even the faintest glint of hope that you’re actually going to win.
Carrion: It’s still early-
Fly cuts him off by banging his fist loudly on the table. The noise draws the attention of several surrounding tables but Fly ignores their stares and proceeds with a hushed, but stern, voice.
Fly: I. DONT. WANT. EXCUSES. I don't lose. I’m not sure you fully understand what I meant when I said that.
Fly reaches into his suit jacket pocket and pulls out a folded picture. He unfolds it and sets it on the table in front of Carrion. Carrion stares wide-eyed at the picture as the color leaves his face.
Carrion: My…my kids…how do you have that? WHY do you have that?
Fly: I need you to understand how serious this is. I need your complete focus. We’re going to win this election, or bad things are going to happen to good people.
As Fly makes his last statement he glances briefly at the picture on the table.
Carrion: You fucking monster. Don’t you even think about it…
Fly: Hey! Focus. I don’t want to. Trust me. But, you have one single job to do, and I’ve made that job very easy. All you have to do is win this election and I’m giving you a blank check to make it happen. How hard can it be? This doesn’t have to play out like this.
Carrion: You’re forcing me to take stances that are unpopular! The people of New York City don’t want legalized gambling, prostitution, and drugs. What else can I do?
Fly: You’re the politician. Figure it out.
Carrion: My success as a politician comes from honesty. The perception was that I was authentic and trustworthy. It’s a pretty simple formula. Now, being honest is what’s hurting my numbers. You can’t make a city of eight and half million people change their stance on drugs, prostitution, and gambling overnight, no matter how much money you throw at it. Not to mention, my opponent is feasting on it. Do you know him, by the way?
Fly: I do not.
Carrion: That’s surprising, considering you and he…
Once again Fly cuts Carrion off. He holds his hand up in a ‘stop’ motion. He reaches back into his suit jacket pocket and pulls out a check and sets it on the table. He grabs the picture of Carrion’s kids and places it back into his pocket.
Fly: Thirty million more and here is what you’re going to do with it: You’re going to buy a reputable economist and have him forge a study showing the amount of tax dollars legalized gambling, prostitution, and drugs will create for this city. Go a step further, show what that means for each families pocketbook. Show them how much they will save. Then, work on breaking the stereotypes; show them examples like Portugal and their success in decriminalizing drugs. Create your own information that backs up your political stance and make that information work for you. Show yourself as progressive, the candidate that is thinking outside of the box to fix all that ails this city.
Carrion looks down at the check and takes in a sigh.
Carrion: You’re a real fucking bastard. I should have never taken that first check.
Fly: Face it Adalfo, we’re in this together. I’m invested in this as much as you are. Our destinies are intertwined. We’ll either rule this city together, or I’ll be out of money and you’ll be planning the funeral for your children. I happen to believe my plight would be worse.
Carrion: That’s because you’re not a father.
Fly smirks.
Fly: How would you even know? You don't know anything about me.
A silence comes over the table. After an extended awkward pause, Carrion reaches onto the table and takes possession of the check.
Carrion: Since we’re going to be acting like friends for the foreseeable future, perhaps there is something that your…skills…could be useful for. I have a problem.
Fly: What type of problem?
Carrion reaches into his pocket and pulls out a playing card with the picture of a Galapagos tortoise on it. Fly picks up the card and turns it over, seeing nothing on the other side.
Fly: I don’t understand.
Carrion: Someone is sleeping with my wife. Whoever that someone is, he seems to think it’s funny to leave his calling card on my bed when he’s done.
Fly: That seems like a stretch…
Carrion: It’s not. If this were to come out, it would look pretty bad too. How can I run a city when I can’t even keep control my own home?
Fly: I see. So you want me to find this…turtle…person?
Carrion: Don’t you think that would be in both of our best interests?
Fly smiles and nods his head slowly. He grabs hold of his drink and down it in one large gulp. He grabs his wallet of our of his back pocket and sets a twenty dollar bill on the table before rising out of his seat.
Fly: I’m on it. I’ll see you soon.
With that, Fly turns and leaves the table. He walks back downstairs and makes way toward the front exit of the restaurant. Upon arriving outside on the sidewalk we see two large men in black suits waiting for him. They walk up to Fly who is busy scanning through the crowd on the street. Softly, as to not he heard, Fly gives instructions to his men.
Fly: Grab his children. You have three hours. Stash them in the safehouse, give them a sedative so they don't remember anything, and put someone in charge of taking care of them.
The men nod and shuffle off obediently. Fly watches them leave before reaching for his cell phone. He dials a number with one hand while holding the card with the Galapagos tortoise in the other. As the phone is answered, Fly speaks.
Fly: You couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you?
The scene fades out.
July 10th, 2013
Our scene begins at The Society’s operations center, a warehouse in Brooklyn on the East River with a direct view of Manhattan. Adolfo Carrion Jr. enters the warehouse through the front entrance on the ground floor. We follow up him as he moves to the right and grabs the steel wrap-around staircase that leads to the second floor catwalk the leads toward Jonny Fly’s glass encased office. As we approach we see Fly on the phone. He notices Carrion approaching and quickly hangs up the call as the mayoral candidate enters his office.
Fly: This is a surprise visit.
Without any hesitation, Carrion bolts toward Fly and tries to jump over the desk and tackle him. Using the instincts that made him a decorated wrestler, Fly is able to grab hold of Carrion’s head as he lunges over the desk and slams it violently onto the desktop. Carrion lets out a yelp and rolls off the desk to the ground. A small stream of blood begins to trickle out of his nose. Fly casually gets up from his seat and walks over to Carrion and stands over him.
Fly: What the fuck has gotten into you? I could kill you right now.
There’s hate in Carrion’s eyes. He wipes the blood from underneath his nose and pops back up to his feet in defiance.
Carrion: Where are my kids!? Where have you taken them?
Fly goes silent momentarily. He lets out a soft sigh before turning and returning to his chair. He looks back toward Carrion.
Fly: Sit, please.
We can tell that Carrion doesn’t want to sit, but he obliges anyway. As he sits down Fly passes over a few Kleenex for him to wipe off.
Fly: First off, there is only one thing that has changed in your kid’s lives. They will not be seeing their dad on an everyday basis. Other than that, their lives will remain the same. My people will take care of them as if they were their own. Most importantly, they’re safe. That’s all you need to know. Second off…
Carrion: NO. Absolutely not. Tell me where they are or I’ll end this right now.
Fly scoffs at the comment and opens the middle desk drawer beneath him. He pulls a pistol from the drawer and slides it over to Carrion.
Fly: Try it. Go ahead. End it.
Carrion pauses, debating on whether or not to pick up the gun.
Fly: This exact moment…right now…this is the difference between the two of us. If I was in your seat I would have already killed me. Your threats are empty. You don’t have the stomach to do anything about this. That’s why you need me. I do the dirty work for you. I’m the muscle behind your campaign, the motherfucker who gets shit done.
Carrion: No, you’re a thug and this city is better off without you.
Fly: What are you going to do about it? You can’t go to the authorities, you’ll disgrace yourself. What would your children think of you if they knew that you were nothing more than a crooked politician getting in cahoots with some ‘thug’? Plus, what would my people do with your kids if they knew their daddy betrayed us?
That’s the motivation Carrion needed. He picks up the gun and instantly pulls the trigger. …nothing happens. The gun is empty.
Fly: My turn.
Unbeknown to us, Fly has been holding his pistol on his lap the entire time. He lifts it and shoots, purposely missing Carrion and instead shattering the glass wall behind him. Fly keeps the gun fixed on Carrion as he shields himself from the glass crumbing on top of him and holding his ears from the sound. Fly rises to his feet and circles around the desk and positions himself behind Carrion. He leans down and whispers into his ear.
Fly: Listen very carefully. The next time you threaten me, your right, this will be over. It will be over for you and your entire family. You will do nothing but what I tell you, when I tell you, from now on. You have lost all of your freedom to act in any form or fashion without my permission. Consider your children as incentive. If you want to see them again, you’re going to move your entire campaign into this building where I can keep my eye on you.
Carrion: You didn’t need to go this far.
Fly: When are you going to wake up? This isn’t about you. You’re a pawn in a much larger game. All I’m asking you to do is act like it. I have more at stake here than you can even comprehend, and I’m not the type of man that will sit idly by and let my fate be decided by others. Until the election is over, your children are my children and you’re my bitch. Do we understand one another?
There is no response. Carrion can’t bring himself to agree to this, even if on the inside he already has.
Fly: I’ll take your silence as a yes. You’re dismissed. I’ll have your office set-up downstairs immediately.
Silently and dejectedly, Carrion gets up. He brushes by Fly to walk out of the office but Fly quickly grabs him and stops him.
Fly: One more thing, about your wife. I have a team following her. So far, nothing has happened. I’ll keep you posted. Also, you may want to tell her your kids are on a little vacation.
Carrion nods and without another word exits the office. Fly stands in his doorway and watches as Carrion walks back down the catwalk. The scene slowly dissolves to black.
July 18th, 2013
Jonny Fly and his top associate, Tome Salemone, are seen inside of Fly’s Jaguar XK. Fly is driving in downtown Manhattan with Tom in the passenger seat. A phone rings and Fly presses a button on his steering wheel to answer the call and direct it through the car’s speakers.
Fly: Former world's greatest wrestler speaking.
“Jonny, it’s Steve Anderson at Gallup. The latest poll numbers just came in. Carrion is still trailing by 8 points.”
Without an answer, Fly hangs up the call.
Fly: Jesus fuckin’ christ.
Tom: That’s not that bad. He’s two points up from last week and there’s still plenty of...
Fly: Don’t even finish that thought. I don’t want to hear it.
A silence ensues. You can sense Fly’s frustration just in the way he’s driving. He’s swerving in and out of the lanes and aggressively tailgating the drivers in front of him.
Tom: You need an outlet for your frustrations.
Fly: That’s why the world gave us hookers.
Tom: I was thinking of something more...familiar to you.
Fly: Don’t even say it.
Tom: Come on, there has to be some part of you that misses the competition.
Fly: You just want me to give you more control while I’m out travelling to whothefuckknowswhere every week.
Tom: We operate in the shadows. What’s a bigger shadow than a decorated and highly public career as a professional wrestler? Your biggest contribution to this organization is always going to be deflecting attention off of it using your own notoriety and image.
Fly: I’m done with that part of my life. There’s nothing left there for me.
Tom: How is it possible to achieve EVERYTHING you ever wanted? There has to be something out there for you, some unfinished business, something…
Fly: I don’t know. Maybe. Still, that’s not what drives me anymore.
Tom: Tell me this, what are you going to do when your man is in office and you have this city at your fingertips? When the new mayor enacts our proposals, what’s left for us to do? The money will be rolling in on its own.
Fly: There’s always something to do.
Fly’s response forces silence from Tom. The two continue driving silently for close to a minute before a flash of blue strobe in the rearview mirror catches Fly’s attention.
Fly: What the fuck?
Tom turns around and looks out the back window as Fly stares into the rearview mirror.
Tom: Cops?
Fly: Worse. Black Ford Explorer, that means Feds.
Fly begins to slow down and pulls off onto the shoulder of the road. He puts the car in park and expectantly rolls down his window.
Fly: Don’t say anything.
Just as he finishes his statement, a middle-aged and stoic looking female FBI agent appears in his window. As she takes off her sunglasses and stares into the car, Fly does what Jonny Fly does, and checks her out in her black suit, pencil skirt, and heels.
Fly: This must be a mistake; my birthday isn’t for another two months.
The agent stares stone-faced at Fly, ignoring the quip.
Agent: License and registration please.
Fly: There’s no need for that. I’m Jonny Fly. I assume you knew that already before you decided to pull me over and waste my time.
Agent: Actually, I didn’t. There’s a bulletin out for this car. It appears it was reported stolen just three minutes ago.
Fly: What?
The female agent finally shows some emotion, cracking a small smile. Always sharp, Fly immediately pieces together what is going on.
Fly: You bitch! You can’t do that.
Agent: Do what? Stop a suspect I believe to be driving a stolen car? I can certainly do that, in fact, it happens to be my job. If you could, Mr. Fly, step out of the car for me.
Fly looks over to Tom.
Fly: Drive the car to Federal Plaza. I’ll be out in an hour.
Fly opens the driver’s door and steps out of the car. He’s immediately led by the FBI agent back to her car. The scene fades away.
July 18th, 2013
The new scene begins in your standard interrogation room. It’s a square room with three blank walls, one mirrored wall, and a table with two chairs placed in the middle of the room. Jonny Fly sits in one chair facing the mirrored wall while the female FBI agent from the previous scene is situated in a chair across from him. The two are in the middle of a conversation.
Agent: Well, Mr. Fly, I do apologize for the mix-up regarding your vehicle. I’ll be sure to remove the bulletin and clear this up…as soon as this meeting is done.
Fly: This meeting is done, Agent Williams
Agent Williams: Not quite. I mean, after all, you are here so we might as well make this productive. What can you tell me about Adalfo Carrion Jr.?
Fly pauses momentarily, clearly unsure of how to proceed. Does she know of Fly’s involvement with the mayoral candidate?
Fly: He’s the guy running for Mayor, yes?
Agent Williams: Let’s not act like you two don’t know one another, Jonny. Have a little more respect for me than that. You know exactly who he is.
Fly: Then perhaps you would like to be more specific in what you’re asking.
Agent Williams: Okay, how about this. Carrion’s wife has reported their children as missing. One day earlier a witness puts you in a restaurant having an argument with him. Do you want to explain?
Fly: He wanted my autograph. I told him he had to pay for it like everyone else. He got upset, talked about how he was going to be mayor and how special he was. It was quite embarrassing. He’s like a five year old when he doesn’t get his way.
Agent Williams: You really expect me to believe that?
Fly: My past…dealings…with the FBI lead me to believe that you are seekers of the truth. Feel free to verify that information with Adalfo himself. I could care less.
Agent Williams: Yes, your past dealings with the bureau are something. You’re one of the few individuals in our history to be given immunity for crimes committed, even despite the fact that there’s a contingent of the bureau that blames you for the murder of one of our agents just last year.
Fly: I remember that. Then you guys pinned it on my boss, Seth Lerch. It was really a low point for you guys, wasn’t it? Then again, what should I expect from an organization that makes up fake stolen car reports just to bring someone in for a chat. Don’t you have a file somewhere that would have told you I would come in and chat just for the simple price of a titty flash?
Agent Williams: Once again, Jonny, and also for the last time…I would urge you to show some respect. I’m nothing like the other agents you’ve dealt with.
Fly: I agree. I wouldn’t sleep with the others. Too manly. That’s not my style. I like my partners submissive.
Wink.
Agent Williams: Well, since we’ve broken the ice. How about I just come home with you? Call it a warranted search of your premises for the purpose of an official investigation against you into the whereabouts of Selena and Melinda Carrion?
The female agent smiles as she delivers the previous response. Equally quick with the quip, Fly responds.
Fly: But, I don’t even know your first name. I have standards; I don’t just bring everyone home with me. They have to be a special sort.
The agent smiles and rises to her feet.
Agent Williams: I don’t know what you’re up to, not yet, but I will figure it out in due time. Consider that your only notice. You’re free to go.
Fly nods his head approvingly and rises to his feet as well. He pushes in his chair and begins to make his way toward the door.
Agent Williams: One last thing, who are you voting for mayor?
Fly stops dead and turns back toward the agent. He approaches her with a look of confusion on his face.
Fly: Why do you ask that?
Agent Williams: Carrion, there’s just something about him that I’m not sure I can…trust.
Fly spends the next few seconds staring into the agent’s eyes, looking for some clue as to the reasoning for her questions. Getting nothing, he simply turns and leaves the room without another word spoken.
August 4th, 2013
It’s the unlikeliest of meetings. We’re at a Penn State Wrestling Federation house show in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. A door with the nameplate ‘Gravedigger’ stands in front of us. We open the door to reveal a sight that would shock most of the WCF faithful. Long-time rivals Jonny Fly and Gravedigger talking peacefully in the PSWF owner’s office. Digger sits behind his desk looking rather intrigued as Fly, dressed in a suit, stands in front of his desk talking.
Fly: …I promise I will cut you and MS-13 in on the profits. The plan is flawless. I came up with it, of course it’s flawless.
Gravedigger folds his hands in front of him and leans back in his chair as he contemplates whatever offer he’s just been presented.
Gravedigger: So, this is what you’ve been up to since you retired?
Fly: I’m not here as a wrestler. I’m here as a businessman.
Gravedigger: I’m here as a businessman too, and my business right now is wrestling. So, I have a proposition of my own. The PSWF World Champion, Keynan Isara, is in the ring right now for a scheduled promo. I want you to go interrupt him and challenge him to a match. If you win, we have a deal.
Fly shakes his head ‘no.’
Fly: Absolutely not. I’m retired. I don’t wrestle anymore.
Gravedigger shrugs his shoulders.
Gravedigger: Then I guess we have nothing left to discuss, Jonny.
Fly doesn’t move. He seems to be frozen in thought. After a few more moments he takes in a deep sigh.
Fly: Fine.
Gravedigger: What’s that?
Fly: I’ll wrestle him. You have a deal.
Gravedigger smiles and rises to his feet to extend his hand, which Fly grasps to solidify the agreement. Fly turns and exits Gravedigger’s office. Upon leaving he takes a right and walks quickly down a hallway to the backstage area. He scales a small flight of steel steps onto the stage. A staffer in charge of the sound system immediately approaches.
Staffer: What is your music?
Fly looks at the staffer and doesn’t have to answer that question.
Staffer: Oh…whoa! Jonny Fly? What are you….nevermind, I’ll have you que’d up in thirty seconds.
The staffer hurriedly leaves Fly to himself. Fly takes a few steps forward and now stands directly behind the curtain. He takes off his suit jacket and tosses it to the floor, unbuttons and rolls up his sleeves, and finally loosens the top button on his dress shirt. He lowers his head and looks at the ground. Ten seconds later, “300 Violin Orchestra” hits over the PSWF sound system.
Fly raises his head.
The instrumental sounds of his theme song entrancing and confusing the crowd.
…and then, for the first time in months, Jonny Fly pushes his way through the curtain.
We continue our scene from Fly’s perspective. The crowd has exploded upon his presence on the stage. Looking down the ramp, Keynan Isara is at the front of the ring looking up at Fly with a thoroughly confused expression on his face. Fly could care less about the crowd, or the confusion of his upcoming opponent. He’s here for business, and business stipulates that he has to get back into the wrestling ring.
So, he begins the walk.
Slowly, confidently, Jonny Fly makes his way down the ramp to ringside. With the help of the steel ring steps, he elevates himself into the ring. Inside the ring Fly slowly approaches Isara. The PSWF World Champion mouths a few comments asking Fly why he’s interrupting him. Fly responds with a smile and takes a moment to look around at the capacity crowd, almost all of whom are standing and watching the movements of the self-proclaimed ‘most dominant wrestler in WCF history’ with curiosity. After scanning through the crowd Fly returns his gaze to Isara. Without a moment’s notice…he strikes.
Fly connects with a brutal right hook to the side of Isara’s face. Then another. Then another. Isara stumbles backwards against the ropes. Fly grabs his arm and violently whips him across the ring. Isara hits the ropes and almost immediately upon bouncing off is destroyed with a clothesline. Fly stops, and takes a moment to look down at his fallen opponent…the crowd almost urging him to continue his assault.
Instead, Fly smirks. It’s that unmistakable smug and arrogant look that defines his personality. The face of a man that’s never more at home than when he’s throwing around an opponent in a wrestling ring. The camera zooms in on Fly’s face, and then slowly fades away.
Present Day
Jonny Fly sits in his living room. He’s relaxing comfortably on a love seat while WCF interviewing extraordinaire Hank Brown sits directly across from him on a couch. A tripod camera emblazed with the WCF logo is fixed directly behind the couch and pointed toward Fly. We catch this scene mid-interview.
Fly: It’s the pull, Hank. It’s tough to resist.
As Fly says the previous statement he reaches to his left and takes a sip from a mixed drink that’s sitting on an end table. As Fly sets the drink back down, he continues.
Fly: Think about the power of being able to say you’re the best in the world at something. It doesn’t matter what it is, it could be anything. Think about the world and its seven billion inhabitants. Most are satisfied with being good at something, but good has never been enough for me. That’s why in a wrestling ring there is only one Jonny Fly, and I’m surrounded by seven billion other jobbers.
Brown: While you’ve been gone, several other wrestlers have stepped forward and laid claim to the top spot in this industry. Why do you think you’re still the best in the world?
Fly: Who are these individuals you’re speaking of?
Brown: Have you not been following?
Fly: Not very closely.
A surprised looks comes over Hank Brown’s face. He quickly regroups.
Hank: Well, obviously Eric Price. Sarah Twilight. Steve Orbit. Nathan von Liebert is the current World Champion.
Fly: Good wrestlers. Every one of them.
Hank’s look of surprise returns.
Hank: I’m not sure you’ve…ever…referred to a rival wrestler as ‘good.’
Fly: They’re good wrestlers Hank, but they’re not me. At this time one year ago I was the WCF World Champion and the undisputed king of WCF. I wasn’t scheduled to appear in the War match. I was instead focused on a triple-threat title defense against Waylon Cash and FPV. It was a ‘gimmie’ match. Just prior to my defense I was arrested in a plot cooked up by Seth Lerch to remove me from the company. I never made that title defense. I lost the World Title, but not because I was beaten. I look at what could have been. What if it was me who went to One as the World Champion? Eric Price, and the personality that he displayed over the last few months, that would have never existed. His scheme with Sarah Twilight would have never been allowed to come to fruition. Those two certainly wouldn’t have been fighting over World Titles, and Bravado would absolutely not exist. Would Steve Orbit have been World Champion? Maybe. Nathan von Liebert? Maybe. Let’s be perfectly clear though, I’m the absolute ONLY person in this industry who has ever been able to tame Nathan. Ask him who’s the one motherfucker he can’t get past. Like so many others, the answer is Jonny Fly. My influence on the past and current events of this company, and the wrestlers within it, is undeniable. As I sit here today, I don’t see that I’ve ever rightfully lost the top spot in this industry.
Brown: Yet, here we are on the verge of War once again, and you’re going to have to get past every one of those men and women to win War. It’s a tough road for anyone to travel. It’s the toughest match for any wrestler to win.
Fly: I’m not worried about it. I trust my ability. For the first time in a long while I went into a wrestling ring last month and destroyed some whoeverthefuck who proudly proclaimed himself as a ‘World Champion.’ Forget that a wrestling minor league shouldn't be allowed to name their highest title as such, this was an individual who thousands of rabid Philadelphian wrestling fans were foaming at their mouths to watch. He was the apex wrestler of the Penn State Wrestling Federation, and I slapped him around like a piñata. Then, I went into XIII and enforced my dominance over another ‘World Champion.’ I made Nathan von Liebert look like a fuckin’ child. II’ve made hundreds, if not THOUSANDS, of wrestlers look the same way. What are 30 some more to a man like me?
Brown: You mentioned that you just went into a wrestling ring for the first time in a long time last month during an impromptu match for the Penn State Wrestling Federation. As you mentioned, you also faced Nathan von Liebert at XIII. What else have you been up to since we last saw you?
A twinkle is seen in Fly’s eyes. He doesn’t respond initially to the question, he just smiles.
The scene quickly dissolves.
