Hardcore Series: Come Fly With Me
Jan 5, 2014 12:26:18 GMT -5
Jonny Fly, Steve Orbit, and 3 more like this
Post by Logan on Jan 5, 2014 12:26:18 GMT -5
Note: This televised promo was produced and written by Logan for the sole entertainment of WCF's fans. Hired actors portray different roles, the promo itself is mostly scripted, special effects along with cutting edge CGI are also on display, and no one is ever seriously hurt... or killed.
Right out of the brush and into the camera came our hardcore victor. His psychic healthy and durable, having not exhausted more than an ounce of effort in his successful defense against former friend and current traitorous pig, FPV. He calmly approached the lens. The moonlight that covered the ground and himself providing enough for the viewer to observe his surroundings; a street, a sidewalk, a blue collar residential neighborhood. Without a soul in sight other than himself, he patiently waited by the curb, realizing it was time for him to give the viewers his direct attention.
Logan: You aren't that surprised? Neither am I. FPV made for a brilliant back stabber. That he did. As for a wrestler? Not the case. This is usually where I would dabble and taunt over my victory and rub it in like salt over a freshly opened wound. And believe me, I do, and it's always fun. It's never failed not to be. However, FPV simply does not measure up to anything that is worth my time, and I happen to treasure my time. You see, my time is better off spent in the now, and the now is Jonny Fly.
His head crooked down the sidewalks path to catch sight of a stray dog doing his business on a young tree.
Logan: Of course... he isn't alone is he?
The mutt trotted back off into a yard and vanished behind a column of rose bushes. Logan lost interest and regained it back into the lens.
Logan: No. Jonny Fly is randomly paired up, much like everyone else, and the result is a three on three. Well, perhaps it isn't quite that random. I could say Oblivion and I have our differences, what with me taking his title and all. The others seem to share animosity as well.
He idly lifted a phone from his pocket to check the time. A twinkle of excitement danced over his pupils and his phone found itself back into it's lien home.
Logan: Jonny Fly? He's a gem. Once upon a time Seth Lerch threw us into the pit to do battle. It was unexpected, surprising, and down right uncalled for. It never quite felt right from the get go, and I knew, eventually, my beloved Seth Lerch would come running down to the ring and throw Fly's leg on the ropes, take down a referee, or sink in my skull with a chair. And once again, your Face of Treachery would be the one receiving all the treachery. However... after hitting Fly with a Connector - I looked for Seth, I looked for distractions, and they never came. Isn't that strange? What was even more bizarre was that Jonny Fly kicked out. I understand that happens. The Connector isn't the end all, be all. People kick out from time to time. It's rare but never impossible. I wasn't horrified with shock. I put aside the surprise and gave Jonny Fly another Connector. Once more, no Seth Lerch to betray me, no one running to the ring in Fly's aid, just a downed Fly, and a referee ready to count. It was too much reality for me to handle. You mean to tell me a sudden called in Jonny Fly versus Logan had no ulterior motives? That this was not a ploy for Seth to join Pantheon and bask in my betrayed blood? Then what is this, a simple exhibition? Get out. I'm offended.
His phone returned to his eyes once more to take note of the time.
Logan: That was when it hit me. Seth Lerch, our faithful boss, and his faithful everlasting theme song, "Master of Puppets". Had my only and greatest friend reduced me to one his personal puppets? I believed we went deeper than that. And then it hit me again, it came in waves you see; waves of epiphany. I was a tool. A joke. A jester used for entertainment. I felt betrayed by my friend, and so I left Jonny in the ring and walked away from him. And let me tell you, I'll be the first to admit that I wasn't all there at the time when I told Seth Lerch I couldn't defeat Jonny Fly. I couldn't beat Jonny Fly, not for me, but I couldn't beat him for Seth.
The corners of his mouth perked to develop a small grin.
Logan: Sounds like a quote taken from things that losers say doesn't it? Because it was. You see, the feeling of disappointment that I gave Seth... it soothed me. The sadness of seeing your home grown star admit defeat to a new generation and walk away in the sunset may've brought tears of sadness to Seth, it may have, but for me? Tears of joy. I liked the depression. I liked the failure. I bathed in it. And that's the day I wiped my hands of it all. No longer did the WCF require Logan. No more pressure or expectations to live up to. No more weight of the world to being THE guy. Because that's all it was; it was Jonny Fly, you may be World Champion, but you never beat Logan.
He checked the time again, remaining calm, not a spick of impatience showing.
Logan: You no longer hear that today do you? You no longer hear that you're no one until you've beaten THE guy. That's good. I am no longer the tool - or as some have put it... the measuring stick. Why wouldn't I want a prestigious presence? Go on, try it out for yourself. You get back to me after the thirty zillion mystery attacks, the blankets of paranoia, the good stuff, the real stuff that adds up and loosens the grip on reality. Before you know it you'll be questioning the loyalty of your own Mother.
He continued on with it, as if he were speaking to only himself.
Logan: You're no longer the paranoid. You're no longer a victim of success. You are... free.
His phone rang. The way he answered one would assume he expected it to ring.
Logan: Evening, Otto. How is she? Oh. Please tell me she hasn't suffered. She did? Without me?! How dare you. No, no. Keep her feisty. And clothed. I'll be there soon.
He hung it up and dropped the phone back to its domain. He addressed the camera again, ignoring his phone conversation for the time being.
Logan: I wish Fly the best. Obviously, this match doesn't interest me as much as a personal one on one encounter with Jonny would. However, we'll still share the ring, and maybe even a few blows. I'd like that. Speaking of blows, it's good to see Waylon still sucking on natures cock. Where he finds the time to fit in wrestling and remain in acceptable shape struggling a munchies habit and hacky sack tournaments is beyond me. I can not speak for Waylon, but if you lit me one up before Slam I'd end up in the audience, watching the show nonchalantly and wondering why everyone was waiting for me to get into the ring while I'm simply just trying to enjoy the pleasure of popcorn and the sight of a good wrestling match. Oh wait, I'm the one who is wrestling? Oh crap. That's today? You see, Waylon, you're one rolled up ticket away from becoming Freddy Whoa's mainstay. Why you were even considered to be a part of a Slam main event is baffling. Maybe Sarah Twilight got a hold of your stash when she booked you. And let's clear the air, Waylon. You stated after your victory of D-Day, that you ended the career of a 'legend'. We're really throwing that word around these days aren't we? Okay. I'll play. Let's consider that in some bizarre stoner universe you have ended the career of a quote on quote 'legend'. You did, in reality, end Donald's career, yes. That happened. Will he return in a few months time running around in a mask for another year or so? More than likely. But is he a legend? A legendary jackass, perhaps.
An urgent shriek sounded in the house behind him. He frowned to acknowledge the noise, yet continued with the camera once silence returned.
Logan: You've always claimed that my sole purpose is attention, Waylon. Attention to detail, yes, but Lilith-like attention? Incorrect. Wasn't it you that moaned a few years before when DoT wrecked a main event? Wasn't it you a few months ago that cheered when S-PAC wrecked a main event - taking away the ring in the process? You're not only wrong about me craving attention but you're also a hypocrite. You're telling me that wasn't a plea of attention in itself to remove the events ring just so you could say... hey... look at me. I don't need to remove rings, Waylon. I'll remove your teeth from your mouth.
The background cries erupted once again, startling the cameraman enough to give the viewers a second or two of a shaky cam. Logan ignored them, remaining quiet until the screams also quieted.
Logan: Of course... I owe all my recent success to our 60's television show Batman writer, Oblivion. You have WHAMMED and CRACKED and POWED your way into my heart. Why do you hate me, Oblivion? I don't hate you. I actually like you and enjoy your company. What wrong have I done you? I didn't put your Hardcore title on the line in our match. I didn't ask for this belt. I simply won it, fair and square, and do carry it much better than you ever did if you don't mind me saying. You can't fault me for being a better champion, a better wrestler, or a better person. It's simply who I am. That's like telling the lion not to eat the helpless little doe. It's only a baby. Don't eat it. But I have to... I'm starving. It's all nature, Oblivion. You can't expect me to lay down and starve for you when I am purely the greater presence. It wouldn't make sense, not that much ever does with you, but at least you should be able to understand that I'm just doing what I have to do with all personal feelings aside. Because it never was personal with you, Oblivion. You're just below me on the chain. If I don't beat you people will suspect the lion has gone soft and went vegetarian.
And without further ado he waved the camera man off in a shooing manner.
Logan: That'll do pig.
The Hardcore Champion turned to the house that held screams of panic from earlier. It was a complete surprise that none of these neighbors had picked up the phone and notified local authorities. Maybe they suspected it was just another night of a wife getting a good lesson in how to properly be a wife. The way women were these days - they needed a good beating or four. Of course, Logan couldn't imagine an entire neighborhood cold enough to ignore a woman's death rattling plea. Perhaps they were too occupied with facebook to hear it, or simply... never heard it. It was 2AM. Not a lot of family filled middle classers were typically awake at this hour on a Tuesday. Not unless they were sitting at the edge of their child's bed with a shotgun in their hands, comprehending whom to do off first. The thought alone of hearing sudden gunfire accompanied with the shriek of a child gave Logan enough pep in his lips to stretch a smile.
Logan: Oh, camera guy. I'm paying you aren't I? Yes. Silly me. You better tag along so I can get my moneys worth.
The cameraman regained his pursuit of Logan, following him up the pave way leading to the house that Logan had waited in front of for the duration of their time together tonight. The front door opened once within Logan's reach, and a short man with a hideous lump on his back greeted Logan. They seemed familiar with one another.
Otto: Welcome back, Boss.
Logan: I heard screams.
Otto: She's a fighter, Boss.
Logan: I know. But I thought we agreed to cut out her tongue.
A tongueless person could not emit the level of screams Logan had heard earlier in the night. No. Only adorable muffled whimpers. Of course, the screams could have been a result of her actually having her tongue removed. That's a thought.
Otto: She wanted to speak with you first, Boss. Said it was important.
Logan: Oh.
The man, Otto, if that's what he once was; was the sight of a monstrous hunchback. His posture was bent, like God had taken his spine and tried to form a 'C' whenever releasing this poor soul into the world. He lost most of his hair, all that remained on his bald skull was a few splinters of black here and there, one even dangling down and dancing over his forehead when he moved. And his movement, despite his hunched disadvantages, were typically average. He could hold his own at a Walmart on Black Friday. Otto had been a poor man all his life, not metaphorically, literally. He was raised in a small town in Germany. Single child. Once his Mother died he moved in and out of orphanages, but was never truly adopted due to his bitter appearance. He was never easy on the eyes, even as a child. This man, Otto, found himself in the States in search of the big dream; the American Dream. What he found instead was ten years of dreams behind bars for sexually molesting an underage boy.
Otto: Should I have proceeded with her tongue anyway, Boss?
Logan: Next time... yes.
Otto: My apologies, Boss.
Why Otto, the disturbed inside and out, through and through, was a accomplice of Logan, much less calling him 'Boss', was all a debt he believed he owed to Logan. Life before Logan picked him up onto his feet was tragic, a cold night away from not finding warmth and a half eaten thrown out sandwich, a cold night away from a lonely death. Logan welcomed Otto to his home, paid him an allowance, and let him roam free to do whatever he wished in exchange for his loyalty. Otto happily obliged. And loyal he was - a trait that is so difficult to come by these days. The pair stepped into the house with the cameraman not far behind.
Logan: Is she ready for the big reveal?
Otto: Just like you requested, Boss.
Within the living room contained a red velvet curtain, underneath the lining of the curtain poked out two bare feet - women's feet. The curtain was set up like one you would see around a tub placed in the middle of a bathroom, it circled whomever was contained within it. Logan approached a corner of the curtain, grasping at it's velvet with one hand, and using his other hand to welcome the cameraman.
Logan: Ladies and gentlemen!
His antics turned dramatic extremely quick, nearly bowing with applause as he prepared to rip back the curtain.
Logan: I present to you...
Logan: The Mother of Jonny Fly!
He jerked the curtain back to reveal a woman helplessly taped at the mouth and to a chair. She appeared to be a little young to be Fly's mother. Maybe somewhere in her early twenties. Her clothes were ripped and worn, stained with drops of sweat and blood, highlighting her struggles with Otto. Her eyes were wide with fright, looking desperately at the camera for someone or something to help her. Logan nodded, as if accepting an award, not before drawing the curtain back over the bound woman to hide her once more.
Logan: We're not finished yet.
He again ripped the curtain back as if the reveal was brand new all over. The woman once again stared out with confusion and fright, the tape muffling her pleas.
Logan: The Sister of Waylon Cash!
He rinsed and repeated. Hiding her presence with the curtain and then dramatically ripping it back and bowing into the camera.
Logan: The Daughter of Oblivion!
Standing in the background, making sure not to ruin his Boss's moment, Otto happily admired Logan with a silent tear rolling off his lash.
Logan: You see, the generic standard of bad guy mannerisms in WCF is to kidnap your opponents loved one. And then, perhaps, have them beaten... or even raped. If you haven't seen a certain red heads latest entertainment I suggest you do not, and save yourself the time that will inevitably bore you. This is the WCF blue print for villains you see today. A simple path to follow isn't it?
Otto: Very simple, Boss.
Logan: I have a reputation to uphold. It's my duty as a 'bad guy' to make sure I'm keeping up with the times and remaining relevant with what all the evil kids are doing. But this? This is tasteless. I suggest we differ from the tried and blue.
Otto: That's a fine idea, Boss.
Logan: A kidnapping to get under your opponents skin is the current bar, and Otto, we're breaking the bar. It's high time we classed this whole kidnapping business up a bit.
Otto: It needs it, Boss. Very much.
Logan: You bet. Hit it, Otto.
His hunchbacked friend eagerly hovered over the bound, gagged, and weeping woman, his hands reaching for her throat. The screens turned black and filled with the beginning intro of Frank Sinatra's "Come Fly With Me". A lonesome stage filtered through the black screen, eventually revealing itself in its full dim lighted entirety. An audience of people sat a front the empty stage, all properly dressed for a ball in tuxedos and expensive dresses. Otto emerged onto the stage, pushing a wooden podium in front of him. He centered it to the middle of the stage, obsessively making sure it fell in a proper placement. "Come Fly With Me" intro's continued to loop, never once beginning the vocals. Logan appeared from the side of the stage, fully sported in a jet black tuxedo, and with his hair slicked back. Otto catered Logan, bending down on all fours and letting Logan step and stand behind the podium on Otto's back.
Logan: I dedicate this song to my dear friend, Jonny Fly.
He coughed into the microphone, not before stepping off Otto's back and nodding to him. Otto climbed up from the stage floor, and began to push the podium back off the stage. The podium seemed to be too much for a bent over and wheezing Otto to handle at first, but he managed. Not a moment sooner, Otto returned carrying the woman they had held earlier. She was either dead or unconscious. Either way she showed no signs of life but she was certainly dressed lovely. Logan happily took the lifeless woman into his arms, holding hands with hers and assuming a classical dance posture. "Come Fly With Me" kicked into full gear and he provided the vocals.
Logan: Come fly with me, let's float down to Peru. In jobber land there's a one man band and he'll toot his flute for you.
He recklessly slung the dead or either unconscious woman around with him. It was difficult to tell her vitals given she did not show any. Logan, with his hands in hers, kicked back and forth over the stage. He was the happiest man you had ever seen.
Logan: Once I get you up there where the air is rarified, we'll just glide, all starry eyed. Once I get you up theeereee... I'll be holding your neck so near.
Hanging her forward off his chest to insert a romantic smooch, Logan accidentally dropped her and she fell flat onto the back of her head. The sound of skull bouncing off tile echoes throughout the room. Some of the audience gasped. Logan froze. Otto waddled out quickly onto the stage, bent forward in all his hunchback glory, and scooped up the lifeless woman placing her back into Logan's stance. Logan nervously laughed, yet continued on the song and dance with her despite blood now leaking from the back of her head.
Logan: Come fly with me. Let's fly, let's fly away.
The music slowly faded out. Logan, along with his lifeless dancing partner, bowed, and Logan forced her bow along with his. The audience roared in excitement and applause, throwing roses and hotdog's down at Logan's feet.
Otto: That was very classy, Boss.
Later after the event, Otto paid compliments to his Boss for the splendid show. Otto spoke from the front seat, while Roy and Logan sat in the back. The three traveled by Otto's excellent driving ability behind the helm of the wheel.
Roy: I haven't heard anything out of FPV. That boudle hit me with a chair after the match - a match which I called fair.
Logan: Just a sore loser being sore.
Roy: Figures. Thanks for the ride, Dad. You hired a driver?
He nodded to Otto.
Logan: More or less.
Roy: And he calls you Boss?
Logan: He does.
Roy: That's good service!
The car pulled curbside to a hotdog joint. Roy exited the cab, but held the door open with hesitation to look at his Father.
Roy: Thanks again. See you later.
He nodded with a grin to his Son, and Roy closed the door.
Otto: Where to now, Boss?
Logan: I'm not entirely sure.
Otto: Take your time, Boss.
Logan: I will. I have nothing but time; time to not only address those who stand against us, but the ones who stand with us... or.. are forced to stand with us. We have a man that just became a victim of the Flygina trap and is now considered a Flyjobber. Yes, Steve Orbit. Steve and I have a history... or so they say. A history I for one do not even remember. Or do I? Heh. It's a treat to be in Steve's company once again. I'm sure he'll say the same of me. All jokes NOT aside - Steve Orbit is a tremendous wrestler. He has a ability unlike anything I have ever seen, a unique person. No, no, no... I'm serious. Steve Orbit is a serious threat in this company!
From the front Otto tried to muffle laughs, covering his mouth.
Logan: At least someone appreciates a good joke. Moving on, we have our former Television champion. Chello Black Armstrong. I'll never get used to seeing a woman lifting a man off his feet or psychically over powering a man in general. However I do keep an open mind and I'm sure she has her ways of getting around the ring. Being a woman, perhaps she can find herself in the venues kitchen after our match and whip me up a victory sandwich.
Otto: Woman do make good sandwiches, Boss.
Logan: Maybe I shouldn't be insulting the help.
Otto: Insulting? I see only truth being told, Boss.
Logan: You're exactly right. What am I saying? I'd be lying if I didn't say Jonny Fly interested me the most. He's the World Champion... of course he interests me. He has everyone's interest right now. World Champions usually do. Jonny Fly once questioned why I myself wasn't after him or his title. Why I was engaged with Hardcore titles, or ridiculous play time with Lilith. What? A guy can't have a little fun? Patience comes to those who wait, Fly. It'll be much sweeter after I've disposed of this entire roster just to get to you. And if that day comes it will not be a thrown together mess like it was once before. You'll have my complete attention, Jonny. You couldn't play this fiddle, not like you did with Orbit. At the end of day though our encounter this Sunday is expected to be brief. We could technically lose or win this match without ever once clashing. It's possible. But is it likely? Not when I want to break off a ticket in the Flygina. And who could blame me? Who doesn't want a piece of Fly? Even the lowest of low, the Freddy Whoa delinquents, the Internet bashers and trashers all want a piece of him. Does it make me weak that I'm not jumping on the bandwagon along with them? No, Fly. When I have you... it'll be my way. I understand you're World Champion and by logic I should naturally be clawing and kicking into your direction. But what makes you think I'm not already - just because I don't jump on your twitter every day like everyone else does? Heh. The truth is, Fly. I've been here long enough to enjoy the ride. And that's exactly what I'm doing... enjoying it. Why rush us, Jonny? You know you and I could really amount to something special. You just be Jonny Fly. Continue dominating, and one day when the time is right we'll get there. If that's next week, next month, a year from now... the point is I'll be there, Jonny, and I'll be there just for you. And I know you think you'll be ready for me when that day comes, but you won't.
He stopped for a moment to let the goose bumps reside.
Otto: You okay, Boss?
Logan: All this talk about Jonny Fly has put me in the mood for Hot Fries.
Otto: Hot Fries, Boss?
Logan: Yes. Let's go.
The car went into gear and pushed forward. Logan quietly remained seated, staring out the window and watching the passings.
Logan: Fly, Cash, Oblivion. I can't help but finding my interest focused more so with Fly. Don't get me wrong, Oblivion is fun, and Waylon Cash is just one big fat joke away from becoming a big fat joke. Jonny Fly though? Is it his shiny World Title on the waist? I'm not so sure. Even when he was starting out and holding the Television belt, even then I was drawn to dismantling his face and picking off his limbs like - you guessed it - Fly wings. I never said a word about him. Why didn't I? With Jonny, I saw the potential for an ultimate encounter. A warriors battle. Yet when that time came I became distracted. The 'great' fight never happened. And still, after all this time, after all these other fights and mind games and blood feuds... World Champion or not, Jonny Fly always remained in the back of my mind. A what if? A what if we ever became tangled in a war? I wouldn't acknowledge it now if we weren't sharing the ring at Slam. It cannot be helped. Jonny finally deserves my direct attention. Should I commit to this day forward becoming the thorn in his side or stand aside and let everyone else do just what they've been doing - Flyjobbing. It's a tough choice. I hate to force anything. It's like telling someone you love them, too early and it can be awkward or ruin the relationship - too late and they're already gone. So, maybe I should just take a leap of faith and say it. Jonny Fly, I love you.
Otto: What's going on back there, Boss?
Logan: That didn't sound right did it?
The cameras faded.
Right out of the brush and into the camera came our hardcore victor. His psychic healthy and durable, having not exhausted more than an ounce of effort in his successful defense against former friend and current traitorous pig, FPV. He calmly approached the lens. The moonlight that covered the ground and himself providing enough for the viewer to observe his surroundings; a street, a sidewalk, a blue collar residential neighborhood. Without a soul in sight other than himself, he patiently waited by the curb, realizing it was time for him to give the viewers his direct attention.
Logan: You aren't that surprised? Neither am I. FPV made for a brilliant back stabber. That he did. As for a wrestler? Not the case. This is usually where I would dabble and taunt over my victory and rub it in like salt over a freshly opened wound. And believe me, I do, and it's always fun. It's never failed not to be. However, FPV simply does not measure up to anything that is worth my time, and I happen to treasure my time. You see, my time is better off spent in the now, and the now is Jonny Fly.
His head crooked down the sidewalks path to catch sight of a stray dog doing his business on a young tree.
Logan: Of course... he isn't alone is he?
The mutt trotted back off into a yard and vanished behind a column of rose bushes. Logan lost interest and regained it back into the lens.
Logan: No. Jonny Fly is randomly paired up, much like everyone else, and the result is a three on three. Well, perhaps it isn't quite that random. I could say Oblivion and I have our differences, what with me taking his title and all. The others seem to share animosity as well.
He idly lifted a phone from his pocket to check the time. A twinkle of excitement danced over his pupils and his phone found itself back into it's lien home.
Logan: Jonny Fly? He's a gem. Once upon a time Seth Lerch threw us into the pit to do battle. It was unexpected, surprising, and down right uncalled for. It never quite felt right from the get go, and I knew, eventually, my beloved Seth Lerch would come running down to the ring and throw Fly's leg on the ropes, take down a referee, or sink in my skull with a chair. And once again, your Face of Treachery would be the one receiving all the treachery. However... after hitting Fly with a Connector - I looked for Seth, I looked for distractions, and they never came. Isn't that strange? What was even more bizarre was that Jonny Fly kicked out. I understand that happens. The Connector isn't the end all, be all. People kick out from time to time. It's rare but never impossible. I wasn't horrified with shock. I put aside the surprise and gave Jonny Fly another Connector. Once more, no Seth Lerch to betray me, no one running to the ring in Fly's aid, just a downed Fly, and a referee ready to count. It was too much reality for me to handle. You mean to tell me a sudden called in Jonny Fly versus Logan had no ulterior motives? That this was not a ploy for Seth to join Pantheon and bask in my betrayed blood? Then what is this, a simple exhibition? Get out. I'm offended.
His phone returned to his eyes once more to take note of the time.
Logan: That was when it hit me. Seth Lerch, our faithful boss, and his faithful everlasting theme song, "Master of Puppets". Had my only and greatest friend reduced me to one his personal puppets? I believed we went deeper than that. And then it hit me again, it came in waves you see; waves of epiphany. I was a tool. A joke. A jester used for entertainment. I felt betrayed by my friend, and so I left Jonny in the ring and walked away from him. And let me tell you, I'll be the first to admit that I wasn't all there at the time when I told Seth Lerch I couldn't defeat Jonny Fly. I couldn't beat Jonny Fly, not for me, but I couldn't beat him for Seth.
The corners of his mouth perked to develop a small grin.
Logan: Sounds like a quote taken from things that losers say doesn't it? Because it was. You see, the feeling of disappointment that I gave Seth... it soothed me. The sadness of seeing your home grown star admit defeat to a new generation and walk away in the sunset may've brought tears of sadness to Seth, it may have, but for me? Tears of joy. I liked the depression. I liked the failure. I bathed in it. And that's the day I wiped my hands of it all. No longer did the WCF require Logan. No more pressure or expectations to live up to. No more weight of the world to being THE guy. Because that's all it was; it was Jonny Fly, you may be World Champion, but you never beat Logan.
He checked the time again, remaining calm, not a spick of impatience showing.
Logan: You no longer hear that today do you? You no longer hear that you're no one until you've beaten THE guy. That's good. I am no longer the tool - or as some have put it... the measuring stick. Why wouldn't I want a prestigious presence? Go on, try it out for yourself. You get back to me after the thirty zillion mystery attacks, the blankets of paranoia, the good stuff, the real stuff that adds up and loosens the grip on reality. Before you know it you'll be questioning the loyalty of your own Mother.
He continued on with it, as if he were speaking to only himself.
Logan: You're no longer the paranoid. You're no longer a victim of success. You are... free.
His phone rang. The way he answered one would assume he expected it to ring.
Logan: Evening, Otto. How is she? Oh. Please tell me she hasn't suffered. She did? Without me?! How dare you. No, no. Keep her feisty. And clothed. I'll be there soon.
He hung it up and dropped the phone back to its domain. He addressed the camera again, ignoring his phone conversation for the time being.
Logan: I wish Fly the best. Obviously, this match doesn't interest me as much as a personal one on one encounter with Jonny would. However, we'll still share the ring, and maybe even a few blows. I'd like that. Speaking of blows, it's good to see Waylon still sucking on natures cock. Where he finds the time to fit in wrestling and remain in acceptable shape struggling a munchies habit and hacky sack tournaments is beyond me. I can not speak for Waylon, but if you lit me one up before Slam I'd end up in the audience, watching the show nonchalantly and wondering why everyone was waiting for me to get into the ring while I'm simply just trying to enjoy the pleasure of popcorn and the sight of a good wrestling match. Oh wait, I'm the one who is wrestling? Oh crap. That's today? You see, Waylon, you're one rolled up ticket away from becoming Freddy Whoa's mainstay. Why you were even considered to be a part of a Slam main event is baffling. Maybe Sarah Twilight got a hold of your stash when she booked you. And let's clear the air, Waylon. You stated after your victory of D-Day, that you ended the career of a 'legend'. We're really throwing that word around these days aren't we? Okay. I'll play. Let's consider that in some bizarre stoner universe you have ended the career of a quote on quote 'legend'. You did, in reality, end Donald's career, yes. That happened. Will he return in a few months time running around in a mask for another year or so? More than likely. But is he a legend? A legendary jackass, perhaps.
An urgent shriek sounded in the house behind him. He frowned to acknowledge the noise, yet continued with the camera once silence returned.
Logan: You've always claimed that my sole purpose is attention, Waylon. Attention to detail, yes, but Lilith-like attention? Incorrect. Wasn't it you that moaned a few years before when DoT wrecked a main event? Wasn't it you a few months ago that cheered when S-PAC wrecked a main event - taking away the ring in the process? You're not only wrong about me craving attention but you're also a hypocrite. You're telling me that wasn't a plea of attention in itself to remove the events ring just so you could say... hey... look at me. I don't need to remove rings, Waylon. I'll remove your teeth from your mouth.
The background cries erupted once again, startling the cameraman enough to give the viewers a second or two of a shaky cam. Logan ignored them, remaining quiet until the screams also quieted.
Logan: Of course... I owe all my recent success to our 60's television show Batman writer, Oblivion. You have WHAMMED and CRACKED and POWED your way into my heart. Why do you hate me, Oblivion? I don't hate you. I actually like you and enjoy your company. What wrong have I done you? I didn't put your Hardcore title on the line in our match. I didn't ask for this belt. I simply won it, fair and square, and do carry it much better than you ever did if you don't mind me saying. You can't fault me for being a better champion, a better wrestler, or a better person. It's simply who I am. That's like telling the lion not to eat the helpless little doe. It's only a baby. Don't eat it. But I have to... I'm starving. It's all nature, Oblivion. You can't expect me to lay down and starve for you when I am purely the greater presence. It wouldn't make sense, not that much ever does with you, but at least you should be able to understand that I'm just doing what I have to do with all personal feelings aside. Because it never was personal with you, Oblivion. You're just below me on the chain. If I don't beat you people will suspect the lion has gone soft and went vegetarian.
And without further ado he waved the camera man off in a shooing manner.
Logan: That'll do pig.
The Hardcore Champion turned to the house that held screams of panic from earlier. It was a complete surprise that none of these neighbors had picked up the phone and notified local authorities. Maybe they suspected it was just another night of a wife getting a good lesson in how to properly be a wife. The way women were these days - they needed a good beating or four. Of course, Logan couldn't imagine an entire neighborhood cold enough to ignore a woman's death rattling plea. Perhaps they were too occupied with facebook to hear it, or simply... never heard it. It was 2AM. Not a lot of family filled middle classers were typically awake at this hour on a Tuesday. Not unless they were sitting at the edge of their child's bed with a shotgun in their hands, comprehending whom to do off first. The thought alone of hearing sudden gunfire accompanied with the shriek of a child gave Logan enough pep in his lips to stretch a smile.
Logan: Oh, camera guy. I'm paying you aren't I? Yes. Silly me. You better tag along so I can get my moneys worth.
The cameraman regained his pursuit of Logan, following him up the pave way leading to the house that Logan had waited in front of for the duration of their time together tonight. The front door opened once within Logan's reach, and a short man with a hideous lump on his back greeted Logan. They seemed familiar with one another.
Otto: Welcome back, Boss.
Logan: I heard screams.
Otto: She's a fighter, Boss.
Logan: I know. But I thought we agreed to cut out her tongue.
A tongueless person could not emit the level of screams Logan had heard earlier in the night. No. Only adorable muffled whimpers. Of course, the screams could have been a result of her actually having her tongue removed. That's a thought.
Otto: She wanted to speak with you first, Boss. Said it was important.
Logan: Oh.
The man, Otto, if that's what he once was; was the sight of a monstrous hunchback. His posture was bent, like God had taken his spine and tried to form a 'C' whenever releasing this poor soul into the world. He lost most of his hair, all that remained on his bald skull was a few splinters of black here and there, one even dangling down and dancing over his forehead when he moved. And his movement, despite his hunched disadvantages, were typically average. He could hold his own at a Walmart on Black Friday. Otto had been a poor man all his life, not metaphorically, literally. He was raised in a small town in Germany. Single child. Once his Mother died he moved in and out of orphanages, but was never truly adopted due to his bitter appearance. He was never easy on the eyes, even as a child. This man, Otto, found himself in the States in search of the big dream; the American Dream. What he found instead was ten years of dreams behind bars for sexually molesting an underage boy.
Otto: Should I have proceeded with her tongue anyway, Boss?
Logan: Next time... yes.
Otto: My apologies, Boss.
Why Otto, the disturbed inside and out, through and through, was a accomplice of Logan, much less calling him 'Boss', was all a debt he believed he owed to Logan. Life before Logan picked him up onto his feet was tragic, a cold night away from not finding warmth and a half eaten thrown out sandwich, a cold night away from a lonely death. Logan welcomed Otto to his home, paid him an allowance, and let him roam free to do whatever he wished in exchange for his loyalty. Otto happily obliged. And loyal he was - a trait that is so difficult to come by these days. The pair stepped into the house with the cameraman not far behind.
Logan: Is she ready for the big reveal?
Otto: Just like you requested, Boss.
Within the living room contained a red velvet curtain, underneath the lining of the curtain poked out two bare feet - women's feet. The curtain was set up like one you would see around a tub placed in the middle of a bathroom, it circled whomever was contained within it. Logan approached a corner of the curtain, grasping at it's velvet with one hand, and using his other hand to welcome the cameraman.
Logan: Ladies and gentlemen!
His antics turned dramatic extremely quick, nearly bowing with applause as he prepared to rip back the curtain.
Logan: I present to you...
COME FLY WITH ME
Logan: The Mother of Jonny Fly!
He jerked the curtain back to reveal a woman helplessly taped at the mouth and to a chair. She appeared to be a little young to be Fly's mother. Maybe somewhere in her early twenties. Her clothes were ripped and worn, stained with drops of sweat and blood, highlighting her struggles with Otto. Her eyes were wide with fright, looking desperately at the camera for someone or something to help her. Logan nodded, as if accepting an award, not before drawing the curtain back over the bound woman to hide her once more.
Logan: We're not finished yet.
He again ripped the curtain back as if the reveal was brand new all over. The woman once again stared out with confusion and fright, the tape muffling her pleas.
Logan: The Sister of Waylon Cash!
He rinsed and repeated. Hiding her presence with the curtain and then dramatically ripping it back and bowing into the camera.
Logan: The Daughter of Oblivion!
Standing in the background, making sure not to ruin his Boss's moment, Otto happily admired Logan with a silent tear rolling off his lash.
Logan: You see, the generic standard of bad guy mannerisms in WCF is to kidnap your opponents loved one. And then, perhaps, have them beaten... or even raped. If you haven't seen a certain red heads latest entertainment I suggest you do not, and save yourself the time that will inevitably bore you. This is the WCF blue print for villains you see today. A simple path to follow isn't it?
Otto: Very simple, Boss.
Logan: I have a reputation to uphold. It's my duty as a 'bad guy' to make sure I'm keeping up with the times and remaining relevant with what all the evil kids are doing. But this? This is tasteless. I suggest we differ from the tried and blue.
Otto: That's a fine idea, Boss.
Logan: A kidnapping to get under your opponents skin is the current bar, and Otto, we're breaking the bar. It's high time we classed this whole kidnapping business up a bit.
Otto: It needs it, Boss. Very much.
Logan: You bet. Hit it, Otto.
His hunchbacked friend eagerly hovered over the bound, gagged, and weeping woman, his hands reaching for her throat. The screens turned black and filled with the beginning intro of Frank Sinatra's "Come Fly With Me". A lonesome stage filtered through the black screen, eventually revealing itself in its full dim lighted entirety. An audience of people sat a front the empty stage, all properly dressed for a ball in tuxedos and expensive dresses. Otto emerged onto the stage, pushing a wooden podium in front of him. He centered it to the middle of the stage, obsessively making sure it fell in a proper placement. "Come Fly With Me" intro's continued to loop, never once beginning the vocals. Logan appeared from the side of the stage, fully sported in a jet black tuxedo, and with his hair slicked back. Otto catered Logan, bending down on all fours and letting Logan step and stand behind the podium on Otto's back.
Logan: I dedicate this song to my dear friend, Jonny Fly.
He coughed into the microphone, not before stepping off Otto's back and nodding to him. Otto climbed up from the stage floor, and began to push the podium back off the stage. The podium seemed to be too much for a bent over and wheezing Otto to handle at first, but he managed. Not a moment sooner, Otto returned carrying the woman they had held earlier. She was either dead or unconscious. Either way she showed no signs of life but she was certainly dressed lovely. Logan happily took the lifeless woman into his arms, holding hands with hers and assuming a classical dance posture. "Come Fly With Me" kicked into full gear and he provided the vocals.
Logan: Come fly with me, let's float down to Peru. In jobber land there's a one man band and he'll toot his flute for you.
He recklessly slung the dead or either unconscious woman around with him. It was difficult to tell her vitals given she did not show any. Logan, with his hands in hers, kicked back and forth over the stage. He was the happiest man you had ever seen.
Logan: Once I get you up there where the air is rarified, we'll just glide, all starry eyed. Once I get you up theeereee... I'll be holding your neck so near.
Hanging her forward off his chest to insert a romantic smooch, Logan accidentally dropped her and she fell flat onto the back of her head. The sound of skull bouncing off tile echoes throughout the room. Some of the audience gasped. Logan froze. Otto waddled out quickly onto the stage, bent forward in all his hunchback glory, and scooped up the lifeless woman placing her back into Logan's stance. Logan nervously laughed, yet continued on the song and dance with her despite blood now leaking from the back of her head.
Logan: Come fly with me. Let's fly, let's fly away.
The music slowly faded out. Logan, along with his lifeless dancing partner, bowed, and Logan forced her bow along with his. The audience roared in excitement and applause, throwing roses and hotdog's down at Logan's feet.
Otto: That was very classy, Boss.
Later after the event, Otto paid compliments to his Boss for the splendid show. Otto spoke from the front seat, while Roy and Logan sat in the back. The three traveled by Otto's excellent driving ability behind the helm of the wheel.
Roy: I haven't heard anything out of FPV. That boudle hit me with a chair after the match - a match which I called fair.
Logan: Just a sore loser being sore.
Roy: Figures. Thanks for the ride, Dad. You hired a driver?
He nodded to Otto.
Logan: More or less.
Roy: And he calls you Boss?
Logan: He does.
Roy: That's good service!
The car pulled curbside to a hotdog joint. Roy exited the cab, but held the door open with hesitation to look at his Father.
Roy: Thanks again. See you later.
He nodded with a grin to his Son, and Roy closed the door.
Otto: Where to now, Boss?
Logan: I'm not entirely sure.
Otto: Take your time, Boss.
Logan: I will. I have nothing but time; time to not only address those who stand against us, but the ones who stand with us... or.. are forced to stand with us. We have a man that just became a victim of the Flygina trap and is now considered a Flyjobber. Yes, Steve Orbit. Steve and I have a history... or so they say. A history I for one do not even remember. Or do I? Heh. It's a treat to be in Steve's company once again. I'm sure he'll say the same of me. All jokes NOT aside - Steve Orbit is a tremendous wrestler. He has a ability unlike anything I have ever seen, a unique person. No, no, no... I'm serious. Steve Orbit is a serious threat in this company!
From the front Otto tried to muffle laughs, covering his mouth.
Logan: At least someone appreciates a good joke. Moving on, we have our former Television champion. Chello Black Armstrong. I'll never get used to seeing a woman lifting a man off his feet or psychically over powering a man in general. However I do keep an open mind and I'm sure she has her ways of getting around the ring. Being a woman, perhaps she can find herself in the venues kitchen after our match and whip me up a victory sandwich.
Otto: Woman do make good sandwiches, Boss.
Logan: Maybe I shouldn't be insulting the help.
Otto: Insulting? I see only truth being told, Boss.
Logan: You're exactly right. What am I saying? I'd be lying if I didn't say Jonny Fly interested me the most. He's the World Champion... of course he interests me. He has everyone's interest right now. World Champions usually do. Jonny Fly once questioned why I myself wasn't after him or his title. Why I was engaged with Hardcore titles, or ridiculous play time with Lilith. What? A guy can't have a little fun? Patience comes to those who wait, Fly. It'll be much sweeter after I've disposed of this entire roster just to get to you. And if that day comes it will not be a thrown together mess like it was once before. You'll have my complete attention, Jonny. You couldn't play this fiddle, not like you did with Orbit. At the end of day though our encounter this Sunday is expected to be brief. We could technically lose or win this match without ever once clashing. It's possible. But is it likely? Not when I want to break off a ticket in the Flygina. And who could blame me? Who doesn't want a piece of Fly? Even the lowest of low, the Freddy Whoa delinquents, the Internet bashers and trashers all want a piece of him. Does it make me weak that I'm not jumping on the bandwagon along with them? No, Fly. When I have you... it'll be my way. I understand you're World Champion and by logic I should naturally be clawing and kicking into your direction. But what makes you think I'm not already - just because I don't jump on your twitter every day like everyone else does? Heh. The truth is, Fly. I've been here long enough to enjoy the ride. And that's exactly what I'm doing... enjoying it. Why rush us, Jonny? You know you and I could really amount to something special. You just be Jonny Fly. Continue dominating, and one day when the time is right we'll get there. If that's next week, next month, a year from now... the point is I'll be there, Jonny, and I'll be there just for you. And I know you think you'll be ready for me when that day comes, but you won't.
He stopped for a moment to let the goose bumps reside.
Otto: You okay, Boss?
Logan: All this talk about Jonny Fly has put me in the mood for Hot Fries.
Otto: Hot Fries, Boss?
Logan: Yes. Let's go.
The car went into gear and pushed forward. Logan quietly remained seated, staring out the window and watching the passings.
Logan: Fly, Cash, Oblivion. I can't help but finding my interest focused more so with Fly. Don't get me wrong, Oblivion is fun, and Waylon Cash is just one big fat joke away from becoming a big fat joke. Jonny Fly though? Is it his shiny World Title on the waist? I'm not so sure. Even when he was starting out and holding the Television belt, even then I was drawn to dismantling his face and picking off his limbs like - you guessed it - Fly wings. I never said a word about him. Why didn't I? With Jonny, I saw the potential for an ultimate encounter. A warriors battle. Yet when that time came I became distracted. The 'great' fight never happened. And still, after all this time, after all these other fights and mind games and blood feuds... World Champion or not, Jonny Fly always remained in the back of my mind. A what if? A what if we ever became tangled in a war? I wouldn't acknowledge it now if we weren't sharing the ring at Slam. It cannot be helped. Jonny finally deserves my direct attention. Should I commit to this day forward becoming the thorn in his side or stand aside and let everyone else do just what they've been doing - Flyjobbing. It's a tough choice. I hate to force anything. It's like telling someone you love them, too early and it can be awkward or ruin the relationship - too late and they're already gone. So, maybe I should just take a leap of faith and say it. Jonny Fly, I love you.
Otto: What's going on back there, Boss?
Logan: That didn't sound right did it?
The cameras faded.
