Post by Joey Flash on Mar 9, 2015 5:16:39 GMT -5
Car Boot Confessions
February 25th – 23:35.
They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die like God himself is making a connection to welcome your soul into the next world, Joey never believed that. Some chemicals flooding into your brain is all, numbness to pain and fear. This was a very interesting experience for Joey Flash; this wasn’t just ‘chemical bullshit’. He felt himself transported almost out of his own body as his time was ending, he could almost visualise the car moving with the haste of something carrying a ticking time bomb through the city. He had been bound, hogtied and gagged before being stuffed into the trunk of the BMW he had come so regally to work today. Joey’s mind flashed to the president of ‘GRIME TIME’ he had sent to the same fate earlier that day, he felt sympathy, he felt remorse and if he could tell the man ‘Sorry’ he fucking would. Maybe you’ll get to in the next life eh Joseph? Then almost in a response he heard a small, light voice speak.
Voice: You are pitiful.
What? What was this? Who was it?
Voice: Close your eyes.
Joey had a hard time telling whether his eyes were open or closed with the lack of light and the blindfold, but pulled his eyelids shut. Projected in his mind’s eye was a man sat cross legged on a chair. The voice became clearer the more the person grew into focus, in front of him was the figure of Robert Facchetti, a thin smile on his face. He began to laugh.
Robert: What a position for you Joseph. You’re going to die like a punk.
Joey spoke to him, it, the dream whatever the fuck it was through his thoughts.
Joey: Robert…
Robert: Is this really how stupid you are? I can’t believe it. You were everything that a perfect leader was going to be. You were smart, you were strong, you had charisma, and you were a prodigy. Behind your eyes you held knowledge and wisdom far beyond your years; you were made for this I thought to myself. Same way your wrestling coach knew the moment he saw you what you could become I saw the same. You were my successor, you could have been anything you wanted in this world, but instead you are going to be a footnote in the paper ‘Joseph Malignaggi, Dead at 26’. You were almost; you were so close to perfection. You had one flaw, and that’s the same flaw that’s going to kill you tonight.
Joey: I’m sorry.
Robert: You’re sorry? What for?
Joey: For…
Blood began to drip from the head of Robert on to his shirt; Robert reached a hand up to feel a clean single bullet wound in his forehead.
Robert: You’re sorry?
Robert began laughing again.
Robert: I tried to kill you Joseph, and you’re sorry? I saw that the prodigy was becoming something more than I had the ability to contain, Frankenstein had lost the ability to control his monster and so I did the only thing I could. End things.
Joey: But-
Robert: Want to know what I would have done in your position Joseph?
Joey: …yes.
Robert: First I would have killed your friends, and then I would have taken you, chopped your hands and feet off and made you watch as I butchered everyone you ever loved in front of you. I would have fucked your mother’s still warm cadaver in front of you before putting a bullet between your fucking eyes.
Joey: But I-
Robert: You’re not me. You never were.
Joey: Your wife…the…the girls…
Robert: You think-
Robert began laughing again.
Robert: You think that was you? Is this why you are so stubbornly walking a tightrope with a lit fuse at the other end just wanting your death? You really are pathetic Joseph. Do you have any memories of killing any innocents; do you have any memories of organising any deaths that weren’t merited? You honestly have convinced yourself that you ordered the death of my family from what, inside your prison cell? You can convince yourself about your nature, your motives all you want; you can try to cover everything you’ve ever done with a shroud of intoxication and inebriation but at the end of it all the fact is simple. It is why you have failed so often in your miserable life; it’s why you could never ever be perfect, it’s why you could never survive in this world that you ended up in…
…you’re…too…soft.
Roberts’s laughter made Joey’s head throb with pain as the vision subsided and Joey felt himself returning back to full capacity and control of his body. A vision before death, life flashing before your eyes huh? Joey didn’t know why, he didn’t know what had just happened but he felt tears streaming down his cheeks and one overwhelming desire took hold more than anything in his mind, body or soul.
‘I want to live.’
Angel of Death
February 25th – 23:48.
Joey slammed hard against the top of the trunk as it ground to a sudden halt. The time was here then, Joey wondered where he was going to be given his sentence, where would be your final resting place Joey? He heard the trunk pop open and was being carried by two men; Vincenzo and Harris were strong enough to carry him alone. He could hear no traffic noise, no streetlights filtered through his blindfold, the only sensory information that gave him any sense of placement was the sweet fresh smell of cut grass. A jangle of keys quickly changed that, as a door opened and Joey was carried presumably inside somewhere. He knew where he was now.
It had been only a week since Joey had been last, Eddie his dealer, the man with whom he concocted a plan to trap Vincenzo. The plan was to get Vincenzo in this very building and have him die in the fashion he wanted Joey to go down, well I guess things didn’t work out too well Joseph huh? He wondered what had happened to Eddie and felt a twang of sorrow for another person who he by proxy had gotten hurt. The twang of sorrow was quickly turned into a bolt of rage when he heard a voice speak up some ten feet away. Eddie.
Eddie: Put the sap down there.
What was this? ‘Betray your friends and employer month’? He was dragged by his hair toward the floor, to which Joey blindly stumbled before hitting his head on a wall. He could feel a throbbing in his head followed by a warm sensation and the taste of iron in his mouth. His blood was dripping through the blindfold. Someone had grabbed his arms and snapped some handcuffs on, he tried struggling and wriggling away but found himself cuffed to the wall somehow, likely a radiator.
Vincenzo: Okay, take it off.
Light slammed into Joseph’s eyes for the first time in hours and he struggled through blindness as he blinked rapidly to adjust to the room. Three figures stood looking over him, as they came into focus he saw Vincenzo, Eddie and Harris staring down at him.
Harris: Should we take the gag off?
Vincenzo: Go ahead.
Eddie approached him and ripped the gag free.
Joey: You cocksuckers.
He spoke so flatly and without anger it took them back. Almost in a resigned ‘yep, you got me’. Vincenzo laughed.
Vincenzo: What’s the matter Joseph? Not feeling so bold anymore?
Joey: Considering I’m chained up with the express intent of likely ending my life with two people I trusted stood over me I’m still feeling pretty fuckin bold.
Eddie: Thems the breaks Joseph. It wasn’t personal.
Joey: Not personal? I helped you get this fuckin place, when you were down and out I helped, I-
Eddie shrugged.
Eddie: What have you done for me lately?
Joey spat blood on the floor.
Eddie: See, Vincenzo here was kind enough to help me explore further avenues to take my business-
Joey: Business?! Selling dope out ya fuckin garage?
Vincenzo: See, you mock him Joseph, but it’s not him in the bad position.
Joey: and you…
He looks at his doorman James Harris.
Harris: I’m a businessman Mr Flash, nothing personal. I have watered my garden long enough, time to harvest and sit in that big office upstairs.
Joey: You…you want my club?!
Joey laughs.
Joey: What are you two thinking? I think you’re going to learn a bad lesson in trust from Uncle Vin-
Vincenzo kicks Joey in the face.
Vincenzo: Do you not understand your position? The pair of you, go make me a coffee.
They look at each other.
Vincenzo: Now.
Eddie and Harris slink from the room toward the kitchen.
Vincenzo: You have lost.
Vincenzo gets on his haunches and lightly slaps Joey round the face.
Vincenzo: How does it feel? You’ve been caught in the web we have been spinning for months.
Vincenzo laughs
Vincenzo: I can hear the cogs whirring and I can hear you questioning how and why? Why do you think you got that invite to Sicily? Who exactly do you think delivered the letter? Do you think for one second we would be sloppy enough to let a little rat sneaking about in the house listen in to a conversation we didn’t want them to hear? Everything has led toward this moment Joseph. Do you know that your life is worth two million dollars? I’m taking your head tonight and all that comes with it. Wanna know what Alessandra told me before I left? She said ‘I can’t wait for him to be dead, he is nothing to me.’ She’s planning on buying a new condo with the money. I’ll enjoying sharing a drink with her over your sad demise you faggot.
Joey’s head was spinning; he didn’t know what the truth was anymore. His trust in anyone had been well and truly shattered, it made sense, it all made sense. Alessandra was cold and distant; she was out at crazy hours and had such ridiculous reasons. He should have stuck with his gut and cut ties with her right then and there when he thought it was her doing. Trust your fucking judgement Joe. How could someone like that love someone like him? He couldn’t even keep people he considered friends to stay by his side. He gazed at Vincenzo with a half lidded bloodied stare.
Joey: Make it a nice red wine. She likes that most.
Vincenzo: Oh I know. We’ve enjoyed it plenty of times while you’ve been…’wrestling’.
A smile crosses Vincenzo’s lips.
Vincenzo: I think it’s hilarious how you honestly believed she could love you, how we laughed. I’m going to deliver the happy news; maybe I’ll give her a call so you can hear her one last time before you die? Would you like that?
He laughed. This was what torture was like huh? This man was going to take away every sliver of hope and happiness he had experienced for the past five years and turn it into mush. Joey couldn’t even bare to look at Vincenzo anymore, he was defeated.
Joey: Just kill me.
Vincenzo: What? Speak up.
Joey: Kill me, I don’t want to-
Vincenzo: Oh no, we’re going to enjoy this, but first…
He gags Joey once more.
Vincenzo: Wouldn’t want you being overly screamy or beggy, she doesn’t like that.
Joey watched on in sad disgusted horror as Vincenzo pushed the phone and put it on loudspeaker for Joey to hear, Eddie and Harris returned to the room with coffees.
Eddie: Who ya callin?
Vincenzo: Miss Allegri
Harris: Phew, poor Joey, haven’t you done enough?
Vincenzo: Nah, time to clamp down on the weasel trap.
Eddie and Harris slumped onto the sofa as Vincenzo stood proudly in the middle of the room holding the phone out. It began to ring…almost instantly Joey could hear a faint buzzing sound followed by the familiar strains of ‘Bolero’ by Ravel begins floating majestically through the airwaves, Joey would recognise that anywhere…it was Alessandra’s ring tone.
Vincenzo: Huh?
The phone kept ringing as the sound of the clarinets intensified, louder and louder. Vincenzo followed the sound; it led him out from the room and toward the front door. As he turned the handle to exit the house the song stopped and a voice was heard by all in the house.
Alessandra: Vincenzo…
He pushed the door open to find the person on the other end of the phone stood face to face, his phone fell from his hand in shock and terror as he found himself staring down the angel of death, a pistol aimed squarely between his eyes. The look on her face reduced him to nothingness.
Alessandra: You have made a big, big mistake.
Vincenzo backed up into the house. She motioned with the gun to move into the next room, he held his hands up and backed away.
Vincenzo: Miss Allegri come quick, I’ve found Joseph!
Alessandra lowered the gun slightly and motioned once more.
Alessandra: In there.
He led the way into the next room where Alessandra found Eddie and Harris sat on the sofa opposite a beaten, bloody and half dead Joey Flash, his face a mask of crimson.
Vincenzo: Yes, yes he’s in here! Look…look, these two thugs betrayed him.
Joey wanted to scream out for her to leave, he didn’t know why she was here…but he felt his time was well and truly up. She had come to watch him die. He looked for the kind, sweet, beautiful gentle woman he fell in love with and saw an emotionless demon staring back. She regarded him for a few moments.
Alessandra: These two?
She turned toward Eddie and Harris.
Vincenzo: Yes madam.
Eddie: What?! No, we’ve been set up, Vincenzo you co-
Before Eddie could finish the word a bullet had already torn the bottom half of his jaw from his face. Joey looked on in horror as he watched Alessandra fire a second bullet straight into his forehead. His brain matter dripped pitifully to the floor as he slumped forward. She turned immediately to Harris.
Alessandra: Don’t move.
She knelt down before him, Joey could see the once brave beefcake of a doorman James Harris was a quivering mess in front of a 130lb woman, his urine was pooling by his feet as she pressed the gun into his stomach. Joey screamed a muffled ‘No!’ that was quickly deafened by the thunderous rattle of gunfire. James Harris groaned as he tried to stand up, holding his gut with his hand he tried to stagger forward toward Alessandra who nimbly sidestepped him as he collapsed to the floor. James and Joey shared a look of resignation and fear until the light of life in Harris’ eyes was extinguished with a second bullet to the back of the head.
Vincenzo: Good job Miss Allegri, I could have handled them alone.
Alessandra: I gave you explicit orders and yet-
Vincenzo: Yes, let’s take care of that now okay?
Joey felt his world shattered in front of him, what was going on here? It was like everything he known and understood about his life had been turned straight on its fucking head. The thing he knew as Alessandra crouched down in front of him. He screamed muffled pleas through the gag, she raised her hand toward his cheek and held it there for a moment.
Alessandra: Just be quiet and close your eyes. It will be over soon, I promise.
This was really happening, this was really happening. She hadn’t an ounce of the love, compassion and care he saw in her eyes when he last saw her this morning. If this is a nightmare, he would damn sure love to be waking up with a jolt right now. The pain, the fear, the emotional hurt and trauma told him everything to the contrary.
Alessandra: Close your eyes.
Fine. This was how it was going to end, betrayed by everyone you ever trusted. The mother of his child was going to be the end of his life. Odd that at the end of his life all Joey could think of even now, wasn’t anger, wasn’t hate, it was him simply hoping that Alessandra and Christian would have a good life. Fucking madness, you’re too soft, too soft by half, and it’s the end of you. Joey Flash closed his eyes and awaited his judgement.
Vincenzo: Good job miss.
A gunshot crack bellowed through the room, then a second; what followed were screams. Joey opened his eyes to see Vincenzo crawling on the floor, blood seeping from his lower half. He had been kneecapped.
Vincenzo: Ah fuck, FUCK, w-why? I did what you-
Alessandra: I don’t want you to watch this Joseph.
Vincenzo: What?! What the fuck are you doing, please, I didn’t…
She levelled the pistol toward him once more.
Alessandra: If you so much as move a muscle or make another sound I’m not even going to give you a chance Vincenzo.
Vincenzo froze like a deer in the headlights, or a zebra facing down the matriarch of a pack of lions. Alessandra approached Joey and pulled his gag off.
Joey: W-w-what-
Alessandra reached into Vincenzo’s pocket and removed the keys for the handcuffs, before unlocking Joey from the radiator. He flopped to the floor, his muscles tired and weak before climbing back to his feet. He stared at Alessandra, then at Vincenzo.
Joey: You cocksucker.
He kicked Vincenzo in the head, releasing months of pent up hatred in a single shot to the chin. A tooth or two skittered across the floor accompanied by a splash of blood.
Vincenzo: Miss Allegri-
Alessandra turned to Joey, for the first time in five minutes she looked human. She looked like the Alessandra he knew, the woman he loved.
Alessandra: Joseph…I
Joey ripped the gun from her hand, he didn’t know how she got here, how she found out or how she managed to do what she did here today but he didn’t care, he was alive, and Vincenzo was laid prone and beaten.
Joey: I don’t want you to watch this Alessandra.
She rested a hand on his shoulder.
Alessandra: That’s not how this works, Vincenzo, I trusted you. I sat on your knee as a little girl and you read me stories, you told me I was a little princess of a grand kingdom who would one day be Queen. How do I look to you now Uncle? Do I look ready to wear my crown?
Vincenzo: You bitch-
Alessandra: Temper temper. It looks to me like you expected to get one over on me, kill Joseph here tonight and come back with stories about how you found him dead in this trap house. It looks to me like you expected to be an idiot, not research, not probe, just to sit home and do nothing when my family is being threatened? You thought you could do that under my roof because I’m still a little girl? You forgot I am the next in line to be the head of the Allegri, I am my father’s daughter and for that you are a dead man.
She turned to Joey.
Alessandra: This is one bullet you don’t have to lose any sleep over. Kill him.
This situation was like something out of the twilight zone, his loving kind amazing fiancée just spoke the words ‘Kill him’. His loving kind amazing fiancée had just butchered two men in front of him, crippled a third and spoke the words…’Kill him’. Joey took a deep breath, he needed absolutely no encouragement.
Vincenzo: WAIT, WAIT, PLEASE!!! ALESSANDRA, JOEY, I can tell you who Sam i-
Joey: FUCK!
Joey regretted pulling the trigger a split second after Vincenzo’s head was reduced to mush and his brains hung like hash browns and ketchup from the back of his head. Vincenzo slumped lifeless to the floor. Now there’s no knowing who Sam was. All that was left was silence. Joey scanned the room watching the carnage, always were a lucky one eh? He looked at Alessandra, who was removing personal belongings from the pockets of each of the dead men.
Joey: What are you doing?
Alessandra looked at him with a wry smile.
Alessandra: You’re not very good at this are you Joseph?
She approached him and gave him a hug.
Alessandra: I’m sorry.
Joey: W-what?
Alessandra: I’ll get the mess cleaned, let’s go home.
Alessandra pulled her phone out and held it in one hand talking to someone about ‘cleanup crew’ and reporting the death of Vincenzo, in the other hand she took Joey’s hand and they walked from the building. Joey was in a haze, he staggered alongside her from the building. It was night time, they walked half a block before getting to where Alessandra’s car was parked.
Joey: My- my car…
Alessandra: It will be cleaned and in our drive tomorrow. Don’t worry.
She clicked to unlock the car and opened the driver’s door. Sat in the back of the car like nothing had happened was Christian.
Christian: Daddy!
Joey opened the back door and hugged his son.
Alessandra: See, I told you he had just gone to the shop, we picked him up together didn’t we? It was a little mission! Don't worry about Daddy, he just had a little fall while out, silly Daddy!
Christian: Yeah!
Joey climbed into the seat next to Alessandra. They looked at each other and both broke into a smile, she mouthed the words ‘I love you’. The quietest, most understated those words had ever been spoken in this turbulent and fucked up relationship, but they were the words that hit Joey the hardest, for the first time in his pathetic miserable existence, his time of being a leech and a parasite, a bum a junkie and a thug, through everything good and bad, unconditionally. He knew now what it truly felt to be loved.
Lucky XIII
March 9th - 08:03
A completely pitch black room. A voice.
“I know what you’re thinking.
We got on so well without him here.
Things are much more bearable without his toxic presence.
What was once a brewing dynastic presence that was going to tear up everything in its wake; an undefeated, unbeatable monster ripping the heads off all comers has become nothing more than a footnote in the memory of all the fans...
...that’s the thing about certain memories, you can push them to the back of your mind most of the time, but every so often when you’re drifting off to sleep. They roll back again and haunt your sleep. These memories never fade.”
“And neither do the scars”
Light. The room is illuminated, Joey Flash, alone. He takes a deep breath, soaking in the smell.
Joey: Welcome back Joey Flash. The King without a crown addresses you now, WCF faithful it’s been an interesting time. The champions fall and new ones rise to take their place, the champions are thrown to the dogs and treated as leftovers, new people take their place and life goes on as it always did. Joey Flash though? That doesn’t happen to him, no siree Joey Flash doesn’t lose, Joey Flash will be here for us forever, and he’ll be the one shining light to carry us through the boggy mire of mediocrity forever more. For millions the one certainty in their lives was being able to sit down in front of their television and know for sure that they would be able to see a wrestling clinic and the one man stood triumphant yet again.
It didn’t matter if they hated or they loved, they watched, they fucking watched. How many wrestlers on the roster can say every time they appear on television they have the viewers in the palm of their fuckin hand?
Then at Slam, poof out of nowhere it’s like someone pulled a George RR Martin on the WCF script and the fans were stood aghast and in stony silence as their constant was just…ended. The people didn’t know whether to cheer or to cry, they wondered and thought ‘Hey this is all a joke right? Joey is playing? Huh huh Momma Joey’s playing right?!’ The bell rings and that is that. The reign is over, the era is over and the undefeatable aura is blown away like a grain of sand in a gale.
Joey leans forward.
I lost. I fucking lost.
He begins clapping.
What did you all think was going to happen when it eventually happened? Did you expect me to take my ball and disappear? Did you expect me to get in angry huff and lash out at anything? True, I got angry and took my frustrations out after the match, I blasted Grime in the head and I cost him his one moment of crowning glory. It’s not becoming of a champion on my part. Do you expect me to make up some excuses about the match? Do you want me to tell you I had trouble outside the ring that translated to the performance? Oh I know, that old classic ‘I didn’t get pinned and I didn’t submit!’ You really expect me to be running around spouting that shit?
I lost, end of discussion. Doesn’t matter how, doesn’t matter why, it’s a blemish on the record and a night unable to sleep wondering what you could have done differently. It’s that sadness you feel when you’re looking at the bottom of a bottle and realise that for that one second, that one moment in time and in history you weren’t the man, you were just a loser.
Psyche, right? That’s what you’re thinking, Joey’s gonna go all kinds of honey glazed ham now and he’s gonna hit that beastmode button? Sorry for the disappointment, not this time. I can tell you right now how I’m gonna handle my business from hereon. The words ‘sloppy’ and ‘careless’ are gone and fucking removed from my vocabulary, I got the ‘quit’ and the ‘lazy’ beaten out of me and all that is left is single minded domination.
Joey smiles.
This is what Zen feels like and shit right? You saw something amazing the last three plus months of my existence here, something that will never ever be replicated here and that’s mine, I can store that in my achievement cupboard and be proud of it. I entrust my belt to the man who is the ‘1’ in 13-1, Grime, you won, end of discussion. Just do it proud, I beg you do this shit proud, if I find the man who has ended this streak and is to carry the Television Title into a new era loses or shirks in his duty I’m going to bodybag you worse than you could get anywhere else in this federation. You have a buzz now, but where will that go, what will you do? If the answer is ‘failure’ I’m going to annihilate you. This is the last thing I’m going to say about this situation, ain’t gonna be no retaliation, ain’t gonna be no feud, ain’t gonna be no badmouthing or shit talking on my end, just a friendly warning. If we are ever face to face at opposite sides of that ring again, if you ever have the bad luck to match up with me again I’m going to eviscerate every fibre of your being, I’m going to beat you and humiliate you so badly it’s going to make what you did to me look like a tickling contest between five year olds. Just…don’t push things Grime, I don’t want this any more than you do.
So onwards and upwards is it? Where should Joey Flash go from here? Right now I’m nothing more than a rudderless ship, I have no goals and I have no plans. I’m not concocting a big elaborate plan to say ‘Fuck you’ to Seth or anyone else, I’m not going to return back to ‘default Joey’ mode and attack Occulo, fuck that, I made my bed and I’m lying in it. What do I do about this though, do I let this first loss get to me in a way it destroys me or do I harness the pain and the hurt into positive energy and plow on forward taking control of my course once more?
The answer is fuck all these hypothetical ridiculous questions I’m asking myself, regardless of what you saw on Sunday night I am still the best wrestler in the entire company. No more arrogance, no more jokes, no more bullshit, one slip up doesn’t change that. All it does it double my focus and make me more driven to kill shit in a way only I can.
This was going to be a week off me, I was gonna kick back and take stock of things in the federation. Discuss with my managers and agents the next move in my career here and get a future planned out, let my niggling injuries heal up and come back with a bang in a couple of weeks. I’ve been fighting nonstop since I arrived, no weeks off, no days off, just constant grind. I can do that shit, yeah, but it takes a toll on your body and your mind, so when I got a call from Jayson Price I answered that shit expecting a drunken tirade and the offer of hookers but what I got was an offer for a match. I explicitly said no at first, but then I got that itch, that itch that only performing in front of tens of thousands of people can scratch. I didn’t need the names of the opponents, I just needed the where and when. XIII was failing, Occulo bailed; Jayson’s little Pantheon showcase match wasn’t looking so hot, so he thought I might be an easy mark, that’s a main attraction, Joey Flash on a losing streak let’s get him under the lights once more asap! He wanted a circus attraction; instead he’s got a hired fuckin assassin. His Pantheon brothers ain’t gonna be happy, ‘I know what will make this an easier showcase for my team, let’s add the best wrestler in the company to face them!’ Yeah, that will work.
Instead of a showcase of Pantheon, this is a showcase of Joey Flash. From not wanting to fight at all I’m now taking on two matches and five men in the space of three nights. This is what separates me from everyone else in this federation, when I’m needed I step up. Fuck that, I WANT to step up, I thrive on it. This isn’t going to be a losing streak; this is Joey Flash showing his heart, his grit and his fortitude as I compete in one of the most dangerous matches in WCF on Friday followed by a main event triple threat on Sunday. This is unprecedented, well when it comes to Joey Flash it’s…expected.
This match has a wealth of talent, there’s someone amazing every way you turn, we have Hall of Famers, future Hall of Famers, former World Champions, current champions, the most talented man in the business…and Seth. Funny that the one person I have a problem with is on my team, fuckin beautiful. Don’t worry Seth I won’t take this as an opportunity to beat your brains to mush, why? Because we’re gonna fucking win. I’ve never met Odin before, and Seth is a dork, so if I have to carry them by their boot strings to glory I’m gonna do it, I’m going into this match with the mentality of a 3v1…and those odds are like a layup for me. Team work? Can there be such a thing in this match? I don’t play well with others; well I haven’t in the past and its cost me. It had cost me opportunities, chances and fuck it, friends. What it isn’t going to cost me is a win, so we’re going to be coming full force, united with the sole purpose of beating the fuck out of you three clowns.
Let’s get it.
The lights go out and the room is enveloped in darkness once more.
Hall of Pantheon
March 9th - 09:00
Joey wanders through the hallways of the WCF HQ passing framed classic photographs of modern legends such as Torture, Slickie T and Bobby Cairo. He stops before a wall which shows the current champions in front of replica belts. He looks at the Television Title belt, ignoring the canvas image of Grime hanging behind it.
Joey: Don’t worry, Daddy’s here
He pats the Television title on walking until he reaches a section reciting the history of Pantheon. He occasionally glances up and lets out a few amused chuckles.
Joey: It’s odd that they celebrate legends and the incredible things they have achieved, then a few yards away they have what equates to a children’s section by putting up a comic book panel about some guys called Pantheon. Ruins the ambience really. Never mind. I guess they had to include something to entertain people with simple minds and lack of great wrestling knowledge. What better to pander to this crowd than images of Pantheon?
I noticed an empty room earlier with a high ceiling which I can only imagine is for my eventual statue, soon enough anyway. So guys, there hasn’t been much of a reaction to the reforming has there? Bit of a damp squib if you ask me. But what do you expect considering the members? They’ve clearly just squeezed out the guys they could find who are too stupid to disagree with any decisions made. The best wrestlers in this federation would tell you exactly where to shove your old boys club, you’re a joke.
Expect the best to show you in this match just how much of a circus Pantheon really is. Who’s ring leader? Well that’s going to be a closer match than the tag match at XIII.
Enough of this meandering warbling, so without further ado let’s get straight to the motherfucking bodybags. Scarecrow, bodybag. Jeff Purse, bodybag. Corey Black I’ll put your bodybag in a bodybag.
Joey wanders the exhibition until he reaches the pedestal of the current WCF People’s Champion.
Scarecrow, before we get this shit started, we’re gonna get some things clear, the main thing being how much of a massive fucking ridiculous hypocrite you are. The whole supreme lone wolf rebel shit becoming nothing more than a hand fed dog at the drop of a name…we’ll get to that, the whole crusade to be a great man and save people but really becoming now nothing but a bit part player in a script of everlasting blandness…we’ll get to that. That ain’t even what I’m mad at, in one five minute speech at the last Slam you single handedly took a shit on everything both you and Pantheon supposedly stand for. You said, actual quotes here people, okay?
“Why do this? Why join Pantheon? To save lives.”
Okay Scarecrow, noble. Then not seconds later the very same guy, Cory Scarecrow, the People’s champion, it’s the same guy people, says this:
“I am King Murder”
…what? WHAT?! Let me rewind that, I need ya’ll to grasp it. The guy said.
“Why join Pantheon? To save lives.”
Then the SAME GUY, SECONDS LATER…
“I am King Murder”
What in holy mother of fuck? Oh I get it because you murder those who cause harm right? Because those nasty men who might use a low blow in a wrestling match or interfere in someone’s title defence deserve to be FUCKING MURDERED?! Jesus if I attack a member of Pantheon with a chair will you shoot me in the face? What? There are a lot of straight up idiots in this federation, I thought you’d maybe give a nice rallying speech to keep the masses at bay, but instead you diffuse anything you’d said before with such a head scratching piece of nonsense. You fight for justice and peace. If you tried to join the Police and they asked you to fill in an application form and wrote:
Surname: Scarecrow
Forename: Cory
Other names: KING MURDER
How do you think the application would go? I think the application would be ripped up and a call to the closest psych ward would be in the offing. See man, this is a microcosm of your character, how are we supposed to know what you fight for and what you believe in? Mr Mixed Signals. You’re like a girl at the bar, giving you the eyes, writing her number down on a napkin and then coming over and kicking you in the shins and saying ‘I’LL CALL THE COPS IF YOU LOOK AT ME AGAIN’, also known as a Corey Black Friday night.
So Mr Murder, you went and did it. You joined Pantheon.
Joey claps.
Joey: I enjoyed your little speech, though the more you talked the more your supposedly altruistic motives became hollow in front of our very eyes. The ideals of ‘looking after the integrity of the fed’ and ‘fair competition’ are the very same as ‘Protect and Serve’. How’s that working out? You strike me as the cop who hides behind the badge while giving it to the little black kid with your nightstick, spraying him with mace and writing it in the report as ‘He attacked me’ when he just came to ask you what time it was. You’re there for the name and the rights it supposedly gives you and nothing more. You are coward and weakling who couldn’t do it on his own, you knew you couldn’t hang with the top tier in this federation and you went scurrying off under the first flying banner you could find. That’s the core difference between a pretender, you; and a contender, me. I do it myself, I’ve never needed or asked for anyone’s help here, I’ve actively distanced myself from every single wrestler in this federation, why? Pride and professional honour, two things you chucked in the waste the moment you started fighting under Pantheon colours.
I’m going to do things myself here, I’m going to be World Champion by years end and I will have done it by myself, no shortcuts, no helping hands. It will legitimize everything I do in that ring, you? You’ll hang about in the mid card being held back by the likes of Omega and Price; you think you’re competing for top honours while these people are around? The amount of arrogance and self-entitlement in your stable from those two alone is noxious, where does the little Scarecrow fit into this? I get it, you’re here for the good fight, and you don’t care about titles, right? Give me a fucking break, you’d be fighting in a ditch somewhere if that were the case and not plying your trade in a sport of athletic competition. It makes me laugh, for such an introverted loner such as you were it was always bubbling under the surface. The need for recognition and to be looked at and people to say ‘Hey it’s Scarecrow I know him!’ rather than ‘Ugh get that weirdo off TV Mom!’
There is a clear difference between us Scarecrow, I know what I am, I know my means haven’t been the best, the most honourable but at least I’ve done it with all that I am. I know what I’m doing, I believe what I’m doing will give me the results I desire. You? You’re an arrogant little child playing at ‘wrestling’. So joining Pantheon? I guess that’s the next step for someone who has no clue of self-improvement or progression. Everything I’ve done is of my own making, every achievement and every opportunity of born from my talent and my skill alone, you? Nu-uh, see one thing I’ve never done to make my claim as the best in this federation is dick ride a bigger name to make a name for myself.
It’s sickening what’s happened to you, I used to have a sliver of respect for you. You were your own man and you did things your own man, this man, the very man who joined Pantheon, a group that, again, we’re quoting here. Scarecrow, Mr Murder said these words shortly before Christmas:
“I have no higher authority to answer to, no dark lord to blow before, no round table to pick scapes from. I am the Scarecrow. I stand on the field of battle, alone. I bear the burden of responsibility for my actions, alone. I don’t outsource them to Romans or Kings. I don’t wear the colors of an army, or stand to attention to the bugle call.”
Honourable, I LIKE it, that’s fire motherfucker, that’s the killer instinct you need to survive in this croc pool, great! Then yet again Mr Murder I almost fell out my fuckin chair, cos at Slam you, the very same guy who spoke those last words, gave us this fuckin gem:
“Signing up with Pantheon takes my name off the board. You all need to know the truth. Because the truth of it all is easy to understand; nobody fucks with Pantheon. We are an army now; we are dedicated and we are tenacious. You mess with one? You mess with all. And that, is something nobody can survive.”
Wow. Just…wow. Do I even need to CRITICALLY ANALYSE this shit?! You’ve abandoned your code, your pride and everything that made you, you. Fuck you Scarecrow, a straw man with a straw backbone yeah you might have a brain but you sure as shit don’t have the heart. You’re maddening, you’re someone completely different, it seems on the flight to last Slam when joining Pantheon you touched down and changed into a complete different character like in GTA 5.
We’ve been in this federation together for months now and never once have we stepped inside a ring with each other. Maybe it’s just bad luck on my part that I haven’t got to beat you senseless yet, I guess everything happens for a reason though right? You were on the straight and narrow, following the goals and ideals you set yourself, then the second you compromise who you are BAM there’s Joey Flash across the ring from you and you’re three seconds away from having some humility beaten into you.
You’ve been embroiled in this shit with Odin Balfore for how long now? One month? Two? Let me ask you man, who is Odin hurting here? What is he doing that is so egregious to your moral code? He’s a retired wrestler who simply made a couple of comments about your wack ass; wanna know what you’re supposed to do when a legend addresses you? Take the smack, the criticism or the praise and move the fuck on. No, not Mr Murder, you have to get the last word, you always have to look strong, and no one looks down on you, right? Your ego is carrying you into your own grave and you don’t even realise it. I’m not sucking anyone's THICK here, Odin Balfore is better than you, simple. He always was, he always will be, I want to body Jonny Fly, I’ve said as much many times, but am I harassing him at every turn? Am I guiding my entire purpose to try fighting a wrestler who is fucking retired? You have a wealth of challenges here so why you think it’s okay to do what you’re doing is a slap in the face to real competition here. So Odin man, I’ll deal with this for you not cos of friendship or of teamwork, but cos of simple professional fuckin courtesy. When I pitch down with you Scarecrow, you ain’t getting a free pass to walk to Balfore.
You’ve become both a liability to yourself and a disappointment, at the end of the day it’s going to be Cory looking back at you in the mirror and you’ve disappointed him massively. You have allowed yourself to be transformed from a real presence, a man wandering the apocalyptic landscape fending off anyone who tries to stop him. A man writing his own book of chronicles that will one day be part of WCF Legend entitled “The Book of Scarecrow” and anyone who wanted to play the lone wolf card would read it like the manual on how to do it better than anyone has ever done before. But now, you’ve gone from the protagonist of a great leather back first edition tome of knowledge to just another page in the cheaply and mass manufactured catalogue of Pantheon. Forgettable. Unicorn hair to plastic spoon, it would be sad if it wasn’t so pathetic.
For the rest of the time in your career here you’ll hear the chants of Pan-the-on! Pan-the-on! Pan-the-on! But the words your subconscious will be speaking to you in those dark moments will be ‘Sell out, Sell out, Sell out!’ One of those will last longer than the other, one will make you momentarily happy and medicated for the rest of your career but the other will leave you hollow for the rest of your life. You can tell me then if all of this was worth it.
He continues wandering the Pantheon section of the display, finding, tucked away in a corner somewhere a small tribute to retired ex World Champion Jeff Purse. Doesn’t he look cute holding that belt?
Joey: We take this time from the serious shit for a brief interlude; I call this section of the telecast ‘Comic relief involving a worthless idiot called Jeff Purse’, and no Jeff you can’t use that for your autobiography title. Lemme start by addressing the main problem I’m having with you, why the fuck are you even in this match? I’m here on a whim, but you? You thought it would be a good idea to step back into the ring after such a hiatus in such a highly dangerous, high leverage match? What are you thinking? Well no matter. The last we saw of you, you got your ass beat by Eric Price and then fucked off away again. What does that say about A) Your talent level and B) Your compete level? What it says to me is that you have neither of these in the stratosphere needed to step into a match anywhere near Joey Flash. You might have been able to luck into a good performance, shit maybe even a win against someone else, but to be thrust into this match with me across the ring is something I wouldn’t even wish on you. You are rusty, out of shape and out of touch and I’m gonna fuckin light you up.
This is an interesting scenario for you, when you left you hated Pantheon and now you’re back you suddenly like them and are teaming with them again, how exactly does that work? How did you even join their ranks in the first place? Did they feel sorry for ‘the little weird OCD kid’ and kept you around as a janitor? Maybe Jonny Fly needed someone to laugh at, boss about and keep as a servant? You’re the little nerdy kid in the corner of every school that the jocks laugh at but give high fives as an inside joke for them to enjoy you thinking you’re part of something.
You have had an interesting life for someone so dull Jeff.
BMX rider >>> OCD Suffering Wrestler >>> Wins World Title/gets run over >>> Listens to a puppet.
That’s like five different Stephen King novels in one, you’ve lived the dream. Which Jeff Purse are we going to get at XIII? Mat Hoffman? Rain Man? Stone Cold Steve Austin? Fuckin Gepetto? I don’t think it matters, each one is a let-down and each one is a walkover. You are the wildcard of this matchup, cos I have no idea what you’re coming with, only thing I know is it’s gonna be soft as baby wipes. If I spent my time going at you as a person I’d be here all fuckin day, so how about we go all in with how you’re such a bonafide, A-Class, jobba motherfucker in that squared circle.
You were World Champion, yet never beat a World Champion for their belt. That’s a blow to your professional pride right there, fuck if I’m counting a win in free for all clusterfuck of a match as a legitimate title victory, you fluked your way to winning War and became champ, cool. What did Jeff Purse do with this boon? He defended the title successfully once. Once…against some fucker called Synn and ADAM fucking YOUNG are you kidding me? Is this a joke? I had to make sure so I went and watched this shit, yep that match happened, and you won. That is your one title defence, good fucking god. Next time you’re up with the title on the line ya get crushed by Eric Price who is just as terrible as you are. So, let’s think about this for a second okay? He never defeats a World Champion for their belt in a high leverage match, he defeats Adam Young in his one title defence and then loses the biggest match of his life main eventing One. Not only that, but he comes back for last One in a rematch of his biggest and most disgraceful defeat against Eric Price…and LOSES AGAIN.
You’re ‘The Future’? You’re barely the fucking past. You are everything that was wrong with this federation, a lower tier talent who rode the ‘Pantheon’ train into a spot they didn’t earn nor deserve. My problem isn’t fear or hatred for Pantheon, it’s because I’m not, it’s because I’m categorically not going to allow another Jeff Purse to happen in my era here. Talent and skill with win through every time now Joey Flash is patrolling his ring. You start at the bottom and you work your way up with guts, skill and hard work. For all my bravado that’s exactly what I’ve done, it’s why I took this match, it’s why I’ll win this match and it’s why I’m proving week after week I’m just as good as I say I am.
For you Jeff, this is probably a one off, you thought you’d hop back into the ring and enjoy a nice fun little scrap before hopping back out. You’re hopping no fucking where after I’m done; you’re taking a trip on a fuckin stretcher instead. Enjoy your stint in hospital and the lengthy rehab; it’s worth it I’m sure. Part timers don’t belong anywhere near the ring of a honed wrestling machine, so fuck off back to whatever little hovel you were residing in you Gepetto ass mothafucka and don’t disgrace our screens with your presence ever again. I will shut you down like massive organ failure.
Your career has been nothing but a mix of luck and losing and getting beaten the fuck up by Eric Price. Almost every other member of the old Pantheon is a multiple time World Champion; you got such as a ‘thanks for competing’ award. So whether you come down riding a fuckin bike, adjusting everyone’s hat brim or with a fucking puppet telling you what to do it doesn’t matter in the slightest, because at the end of the day you are still Jeff Purse, perennial loser and butt of every inside joke and I am Joey Flash, the best wrestler in the company.
Joey continues on his trip, stopping at the single largest display in the entire area, a large poster of Corey Black hangs, with multiple plaques detailing his illustrious…fuckin very illustrious career in the WCF.
Joey: I think I’m getting tingles, I can feel the hair on the back of my neck begin to rise, my cockles are well and truly warmed, cos guess what guys? Joey Flash is taking on his first ever bonafide Hall of fucking Famer in this match, what a treat for the Joey Flash fan(s) worldwide. Standing opposite me is the founder of the legendary Pantheon, many time WCF World Champion, Mr Corey Black. Well hello sir, please to be meeting you, I got excited when I was told your credentials, facing someone of importance, of decoration and of respect. So I rushed to watch the back catalogue of your matches, all your classics were in there. I went from:
Excited to Expectant to Puzzled to Baffled to Angered to Disgusted.
Want to know what I learned in my research? The five minutes I spent watching a tape of you told me everything I needed to know about facing you. I learned you are, absolutely, positively, without question a no doubt in question a terrible, terrible wrestler. It’s like when you go back and watch 60’s QB’s fuckin noodle arms, Tim Tebow would have been the GOAT back then. I’ve seen more talent in Adam Young matches than in the garbage you call a back catalogue…aight maybe not, you ain’t that bad. You wanna do the same of me, check out my special DVD ‘The Best of WCF’ it’s called.
So Corey, is being called Corey a good way to gain entry to Pantheon nowadays? If Corey Young, Coreyhazard and Ultimate Corey applied would they get fast tracked entry? Yeah you brought lil Cory Scarecrow into your club, if you had a ‘No Cor(e)y’s!’ sign outside ya clubhouse you’d get considerably better. Scarecrow reminds you of you thirteen years ago, cute, so in thirteen years will he be an old relic who could just about hang in his own era yet tries to cling onto relevance by bringing in some worthless lackeys to do his work for him while he sits about twiddling his thumbs thinking ‘Oh if I were in my prime…’ if you were in your prime nothing. You’re out of your prime and now you’re well and truly out of your depth, you’re a toddler dropped in the deep end of the pool. Huh, I guess the comparison is quite apt eh?
Now what do I possibly have to say to you man? We’ve never had a single interaction, you’ve never mentioned my name and I’ve never mentioned yours. You’re not an enemy, you’re not a friend, you’re just a nice guy who has spent over a decade slaving and working hard to make his way in the wrestling business, and you’ve conquered championship after championship. Your trophy cabinet is the most impressive of any wrestler in this company’s history. You’re a lot like me bro, minus the looks, the skills, the charm, the wit and the wrestling ability. Aside from that it’s like looking in a mirror. What can I say to denigrate your performances?
I could tell you that I admire your guts and determination, and that in another life we’d be sharing a beer and that knowing glow of friendship, but I suppose if I’m really truthful I could say that you are a pathetic dinosaur of a long lost era of wrestling, clinging to his lost dreams like a delusional, and as soon as you retire, likely fat, piece of shit.
You saw how the federation was progressing without you, things were going fine and dandy, the place was in good hands, the new generation had everything under control, fan viewership was up, and the talent roster wide was astounding. The problem for you Corey is with the rise of Joey Flash, Occulo, DVS, Jay Omega, Scarecrow and Fenix people didn’t care about you anymore. You’re that WWE segment where Hulk Hogan appears to a collective sigh, you’re good for one thing ‘brother’ and that’s ‘Pantheon’. That one word can keep you relevant; can keep people who had forgotten your past glories interested in finding out who the hell you are. So rather than doing the thing a true professional, a man with a fighting heart would do and take on these challenges, would tell Joey Flash ‘This is my ring, I’ll beat you up and throw you out of it’ like a five time champion should do, like a fucking one time champion should do what did you do instead? You took four of the biggest talents in the federation and pulled them into your little cabal. Shit, that’s four people you won’t have to face again isn’t it Corey? You’ve done well. If anyone tries to come after you well shit that’s four human shields.
Joey smiles and shakes his head.
Joey: It’s a great idea Corey; I salute you for it, really. But you’ve made one fatal error in all your calculations here. You’ve got all your misconceptions about the landscape in the WCF right now, somehow that bringing six solid wrestlers together will what? Make you the all-powerful force here? You seem to have gravely ignored one Joseph fucking Flash. No one will attack Pantheon? You may be right, but I’m going at your fucking pride that’s for sure. Weak willed, weak minded fools.
What you’re doing now smacks of desperation. Wanna know what all your ridiculous belts and trophies mean to me? Wanna know what they’ll mean to you when you’re in the ring with me? You tell me, what is the gold on your wall going to do to help when you’re getting your face beat in, getting out wrestled, getting out skilled, when you are getting humiliated in the very ring that you have ruled for over ten fucking years.
The way this match has been booked is sickening, in a straight up wrestling match this is a triple homicide, murder in the first degree with a fuckin beat down from yours truly, but now no one will have to see what happens to you when you fight a prodigy at his own game. But I guess your own pride of being embarrassed is more than the pain you are willing to take when I’m smacking you round your ugly mush with a crowbar.
Your formula cannot beat me, behoove you to try Corey, you need something to spark ya bro. You can’t beat me with your mediocre skills and your outdated tactics. Times change, wrestling changes, you need to do the same. Although no need bring age into this, this fight would happen the same any era we wrestled, so it’s not like I’m going to be aiming to beat 2015’s wrestling style round your head. I’ll beat your own style over your head just to make sure you know your place.
No titles on the line in this match, my first time in three months that ain’t the case so I can really let loose on you, ‘UNDEFEATED AT XIII!!!’ would be impressive if there were more than like five fuckin events of it in its history. That shits gonna change up right quick, this is your show, this is your time to shine, where Mr Black is at home, only fitting he gets suited up for his final meal before he gets strapped down and got rid of for good, time for Creeping Death to Ride the Lightning.
Joey sighs and wanders back through the halls, taking in the remaining displays.
Joey: It comes down to this, all petty rivalries, histories, title wins, accolades aside, the fact still remains that the best wrestler in this match is Joey Flash. All your hopes, dreams and histories are reduced to ash in the face of such a being. Over the past few months I’ve been down paths so dark even my shadow wouldn’t follow me, for the first time in my WCF career the breaking of the sunlight is breaking through the clouds and falling across Joey Flash. This breaking dawn will be the twilight for all of you motherfuckers…shit that was corny, rewind…Joey Flash is going to beat the fuck out of all of you, good, that was better. I reign over this federation with such dominance that what happens to you at XIII is entirely up to me; I can take or save lives like a surgeon’s knife. Finally I get to eat something of sustenance, my talent and my hunger for competition has been starving to death and finally I get a warm meal.
So Pantheon, old and new I ain’t giving out these bodybags for free at XIII no no, you motherfuckers are going to earn it.
CUT
February 25th – 23:35.
They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die like God himself is making a connection to welcome your soul into the next world, Joey never believed that. Some chemicals flooding into your brain is all, numbness to pain and fear. This was a very interesting experience for Joey Flash; this wasn’t just ‘chemical bullshit’. He felt himself transported almost out of his own body as his time was ending, he could almost visualise the car moving with the haste of something carrying a ticking time bomb through the city. He had been bound, hogtied and gagged before being stuffed into the trunk of the BMW he had come so regally to work today. Joey’s mind flashed to the president of ‘GRIME TIME’ he had sent to the same fate earlier that day, he felt sympathy, he felt remorse and if he could tell the man ‘Sorry’ he fucking would. Maybe you’ll get to in the next life eh Joseph? Then almost in a response he heard a small, light voice speak.
Voice: You are pitiful.
What? What was this? Who was it?
Voice: Close your eyes.
Joey had a hard time telling whether his eyes were open or closed with the lack of light and the blindfold, but pulled his eyelids shut. Projected in his mind’s eye was a man sat cross legged on a chair. The voice became clearer the more the person grew into focus, in front of him was the figure of Robert Facchetti, a thin smile on his face. He began to laugh.
Robert: What a position for you Joseph. You’re going to die like a punk.
Joey spoke to him, it, the dream whatever the fuck it was through his thoughts.
Joey: Robert…
Robert: Is this really how stupid you are? I can’t believe it. You were everything that a perfect leader was going to be. You were smart, you were strong, you had charisma, and you were a prodigy. Behind your eyes you held knowledge and wisdom far beyond your years; you were made for this I thought to myself. Same way your wrestling coach knew the moment he saw you what you could become I saw the same. You were my successor, you could have been anything you wanted in this world, but instead you are going to be a footnote in the paper ‘Joseph Malignaggi, Dead at 26’. You were almost; you were so close to perfection. You had one flaw, and that’s the same flaw that’s going to kill you tonight.
Joey: I’m sorry.
Robert: You’re sorry? What for?
Joey: For…
Blood began to drip from the head of Robert on to his shirt; Robert reached a hand up to feel a clean single bullet wound in his forehead.
Robert: You’re sorry?
Robert began laughing again.
Robert: I tried to kill you Joseph, and you’re sorry? I saw that the prodigy was becoming something more than I had the ability to contain, Frankenstein had lost the ability to control his monster and so I did the only thing I could. End things.
Joey: But-
Robert: Want to know what I would have done in your position Joseph?
Joey: …yes.
Robert: First I would have killed your friends, and then I would have taken you, chopped your hands and feet off and made you watch as I butchered everyone you ever loved in front of you. I would have fucked your mother’s still warm cadaver in front of you before putting a bullet between your fucking eyes.
Joey: But I-
Robert: You’re not me. You never were.
Joey: Your wife…the…the girls…
Robert: You think-
Robert began laughing again.
Robert: You think that was you? Is this why you are so stubbornly walking a tightrope with a lit fuse at the other end just wanting your death? You really are pathetic Joseph. Do you have any memories of killing any innocents; do you have any memories of organising any deaths that weren’t merited? You honestly have convinced yourself that you ordered the death of my family from what, inside your prison cell? You can convince yourself about your nature, your motives all you want; you can try to cover everything you’ve ever done with a shroud of intoxication and inebriation but at the end of it all the fact is simple. It is why you have failed so often in your miserable life; it’s why you could never ever be perfect, it’s why you could never survive in this world that you ended up in…
…you’re…too…soft.
Roberts’s laughter made Joey’s head throb with pain as the vision subsided and Joey felt himself returning back to full capacity and control of his body. A vision before death, life flashing before your eyes huh? Joey didn’t know why, he didn’t know what had just happened but he felt tears streaming down his cheeks and one overwhelming desire took hold more than anything in his mind, body or soul.
‘I want to live.’
Angel of Death
February 25th – 23:48.
Joey slammed hard against the top of the trunk as it ground to a sudden halt. The time was here then, Joey wondered where he was going to be given his sentence, where would be your final resting place Joey? He heard the trunk pop open and was being carried by two men; Vincenzo and Harris were strong enough to carry him alone. He could hear no traffic noise, no streetlights filtered through his blindfold, the only sensory information that gave him any sense of placement was the sweet fresh smell of cut grass. A jangle of keys quickly changed that, as a door opened and Joey was carried presumably inside somewhere. He knew where he was now.
It had been only a week since Joey had been last, Eddie his dealer, the man with whom he concocted a plan to trap Vincenzo. The plan was to get Vincenzo in this very building and have him die in the fashion he wanted Joey to go down, well I guess things didn’t work out too well Joseph huh? He wondered what had happened to Eddie and felt a twang of sorrow for another person who he by proxy had gotten hurt. The twang of sorrow was quickly turned into a bolt of rage when he heard a voice speak up some ten feet away. Eddie.
Eddie: Put the sap down there.
What was this? ‘Betray your friends and employer month’? He was dragged by his hair toward the floor, to which Joey blindly stumbled before hitting his head on a wall. He could feel a throbbing in his head followed by a warm sensation and the taste of iron in his mouth. His blood was dripping through the blindfold. Someone had grabbed his arms and snapped some handcuffs on, he tried struggling and wriggling away but found himself cuffed to the wall somehow, likely a radiator.
Vincenzo: Okay, take it off.
Light slammed into Joseph’s eyes for the first time in hours and he struggled through blindness as he blinked rapidly to adjust to the room. Three figures stood looking over him, as they came into focus he saw Vincenzo, Eddie and Harris staring down at him.
Harris: Should we take the gag off?
Vincenzo: Go ahead.
Eddie approached him and ripped the gag free.
Joey: You cocksuckers.
He spoke so flatly and without anger it took them back. Almost in a resigned ‘yep, you got me’. Vincenzo laughed.
Vincenzo: What’s the matter Joseph? Not feeling so bold anymore?
Joey: Considering I’m chained up with the express intent of likely ending my life with two people I trusted stood over me I’m still feeling pretty fuckin bold.
Eddie: Thems the breaks Joseph. It wasn’t personal.
Joey: Not personal? I helped you get this fuckin place, when you were down and out I helped, I-
Eddie shrugged.
Eddie: What have you done for me lately?
Joey spat blood on the floor.
Eddie: See, Vincenzo here was kind enough to help me explore further avenues to take my business-
Joey: Business?! Selling dope out ya fuckin garage?
Vincenzo: See, you mock him Joseph, but it’s not him in the bad position.
Joey: and you…
He looks at his doorman James Harris.
Harris: I’m a businessman Mr Flash, nothing personal. I have watered my garden long enough, time to harvest and sit in that big office upstairs.
Joey: You…you want my club?!
Joey laughs.
Joey: What are you two thinking? I think you’re going to learn a bad lesson in trust from Uncle Vin-
Vincenzo kicks Joey in the face.
Vincenzo: Do you not understand your position? The pair of you, go make me a coffee.
They look at each other.
Vincenzo: Now.
Eddie and Harris slink from the room toward the kitchen.
Vincenzo: You have lost.
Vincenzo gets on his haunches and lightly slaps Joey round the face.
Vincenzo: How does it feel? You’ve been caught in the web we have been spinning for months.
Vincenzo laughs
Vincenzo: I can hear the cogs whirring and I can hear you questioning how and why? Why do you think you got that invite to Sicily? Who exactly do you think delivered the letter? Do you think for one second we would be sloppy enough to let a little rat sneaking about in the house listen in to a conversation we didn’t want them to hear? Everything has led toward this moment Joseph. Do you know that your life is worth two million dollars? I’m taking your head tonight and all that comes with it. Wanna know what Alessandra told me before I left? She said ‘I can’t wait for him to be dead, he is nothing to me.’ She’s planning on buying a new condo with the money. I’ll enjoying sharing a drink with her over your sad demise you faggot.
Joey’s head was spinning; he didn’t know what the truth was anymore. His trust in anyone had been well and truly shattered, it made sense, it all made sense. Alessandra was cold and distant; she was out at crazy hours and had such ridiculous reasons. He should have stuck with his gut and cut ties with her right then and there when he thought it was her doing. Trust your fucking judgement Joe. How could someone like that love someone like him? He couldn’t even keep people he considered friends to stay by his side. He gazed at Vincenzo with a half lidded bloodied stare.
Joey: Make it a nice red wine. She likes that most.
Vincenzo: Oh I know. We’ve enjoyed it plenty of times while you’ve been…’wrestling’.
A smile crosses Vincenzo’s lips.
Vincenzo: I think it’s hilarious how you honestly believed she could love you, how we laughed. I’m going to deliver the happy news; maybe I’ll give her a call so you can hear her one last time before you die? Would you like that?
He laughed. This was what torture was like huh? This man was going to take away every sliver of hope and happiness he had experienced for the past five years and turn it into mush. Joey couldn’t even bare to look at Vincenzo anymore, he was defeated.
Joey: Just kill me.
Vincenzo: What? Speak up.
Joey: Kill me, I don’t want to-
Vincenzo: Oh no, we’re going to enjoy this, but first…
He gags Joey once more.
Vincenzo: Wouldn’t want you being overly screamy or beggy, she doesn’t like that.
Joey watched on in sad disgusted horror as Vincenzo pushed the phone and put it on loudspeaker for Joey to hear, Eddie and Harris returned to the room with coffees.
Eddie: Who ya callin?
Vincenzo: Miss Allegri
Harris: Phew, poor Joey, haven’t you done enough?
Vincenzo: Nah, time to clamp down on the weasel trap.
Eddie and Harris slumped onto the sofa as Vincenzo stood proudly in the middle of the room holding the phone out. It began to ring…almost instantly Joey could hear a faint buzzing sound followed by the familiar strains of ‘Bolero’ by Ravel begins floating majestically through the airwaves, Joey would recognise that anywhere…it was Alessandra’s ring tone.
Vincenzo: Huh?
The phone kept ringing as the sound of the clarinets intensified, louder and louder. Vincenzo followed the sound; it led him out from the room and toward the front door. As he turned the handle to exit the house the song stopped and a voice was heard by all in the house.
Alessandra: Vincenzo…
He pushed the door open to find the person on the other end of the phone stood face to face, his phone fell from his hand in shock and terror as he found himself staring down the angel of death, a pistol aimed squarely between his eyes. The look on her face reduced him to nothingness.
Alessandra: You have made a big, big mistake.
Vincenzo backed up into the house. She motioned with the gun to move into the next room, he held his hands up and backed away.
Vincenzo: Miss Allegri come quick, I’ve found Joseph!
Alessandra lowered the gun slightly and motioned once more.
Alessandra: In there.
He led the way into the next room where Alessandra found Eddie and Harris sat on the sofa opposite a beaten, bloody and half dead Joey Flash, his face a mask of crimson.
Vincenzo: Yes, yes he’s in here! Look…look, these two thugs betrayed him.
Joey wanted to scream out for her to leave, he didn’t know why she was here…but he felt his time was well and truly up. She had come to watch him die. He looked for the kind, sweet, beautiful gentle woman he fell in love with and saw an emotionless demon staring back. She regarded him for a few moments.
Alessandra: These two?
She turned toward Eddie and Harris.
Vincenzo: Yes madam.
Eddie: What?! No, we’ve been set up, Vincenzo you co-
Before Eddie could finish the word a bullet had already torn the bottom half of his jaw from his face. Joey looked on in horror as he watched Alessandra fire a second bullet straight into his forehead. His brain matter dripped pitifully to the floor as he slumped forward. She turned immediately to Harris.
Alessandra: Don’t move.
She knelt down before him, Joey could see the once brave beefcake of a doorman James Harris was a quivering mess in front of a 130lb woman, his urine was pooling by his feet as she pressed the gun into his stomach. Joey screamed a muffled ‘No!’ that was quickly deafened by the thunderous rattle of gunfire. James Harris groaned as he tried to stand up, holding his gut with his hand he tried to stagger forward toward Alessandra who nimbly sidestepped him as he collapsed to the floor. James and Joey shared a look of resignation and fear until the light of life in Harris’ eyes was extinguished with a second bullet to the back of the head.
Vincenzo: Good job Miss Allegri, I could have handled them alone.
Alessandra: I gave you explicit orders and yet-
Vincenzo: Yes, let’s take care of that now okay?
Joey felt his world shattered in front of him, what was going on here? It was like everything he known and understood about his life had been turned straight on its fucking head. The thing he knew as Alessandra crouched down in front of him. He screamed muffled pleas through the gag, she raised her hand toward his cheek and held it there for a moment.
Alessandra: Just be quiet and close your eyes. It will be over soon, I promise.
This was really happening, this was really happening. She hadn’t an ounce of the love, compassion and care he saw in her eyes when he last saw her this morning. If this is a nightmare, he would damn sure love to be waking up with a jolt right now. The pain, the fear, the emotional hurt and trauma told him everything to the contrary.
Alessandra: Close your eyes.
Fine. This was how it was going to end, betrayed by everyone you ever trusted. The mother of his child was going to be the end of his life. Odd that at the end of his life all Joey could think of even now, wasn’t anger, wasn’t hate, it was him simply hoping that Alessandra and Christian would have a good life. Fucking madness, you’re too soft, too soft by half, and it’s the end of you. Joey Flash closed his eyes and awaited his judgement.
Vincenzo: Good job miss.
A gunshot crack bellowed through the room, then a second; what followed were screams. Joey opened his eyes to see Vincenzo crawling on the floor, blood seeping from his lower half. He had been kneecapped.
Vincenzo: Ah fuck, FUCK, w-why? I did what you-
Alessandra: I don’t want you to watch this Joseph.
Vincenzo: What?! What the fuck are you doing, please, I didn’t…
She levelled the pistol toward him once more.
Alessandra: If you so much as move a muscle or make another sound I’m not even going to give you a chance Vincenzo.
Vincenzo froze like a deer in the headlights, or a zebra facing down the matriarch of a pack of lions. Alessandra approached Joey and pulled his gag off.
Joey: W-w-what-
Alessandra reached into Vincenzo’s pocket and removed the keys for the handcuffs, before unlocking Joey from the radiator. He flopped to the floor, his muscles tired and weak before climbing back to his feet. He stared at Alessandra, then at Vincenzo.
Joey: You cocksucker.
He kicked Vincenzo in the head, releasing months of pent up hatred in a single shot to the chin. A tooth or two skittered across the floor accompanied by a splash of blood.
Vincenzo: Miss Allegri-
Alessandra turned to Joey, for the first time in five minutes she looked human. She looked like the Alessandra he knew, the woman he loved.
Alessandra: Joseph…I
Joey ripped the gun from her hand, he didn’t know how she got here, how she found out or how she managed to do what she did here today but he didn’t care, he was alive, and Vincenzo was laid prone and beaten.
Joey: I don’t want you to watch this Alessandra.
She rested a hand on his shoulder.
Alessandra: That’s not how this works, Vincenzo, I trusted you. I sat on your knee as a little girl and you read me stories, you told me I was a little princess of a grand kingdom who would one day be Queen. How do I look to you now Uncle? Do I look ready to wear my crown?
Vincenzo: You bitch-
Alessandra: Temper temper. It looks to me like you expected to get one over on me, kill Joseph here tonight and come back with stories about how you found him dead in this trap house. It looks to me like you expected to be an idiot, not research, not probe, just to sit home and do nothing when my family is being threatened? You thought you could do that under my roof because I’m still a little girl? You forgot I am the next in line to be the head of the Allegri, I am my father’s daughter and for that you are a dead man.
She turned to Joey.
Alessandra: This is one bullet you don’t have to lose any sleep over. Kill him.
This situation was like something out of the twilight zone, his loving kind amazing fiancée just spoke the words ‘Kill him’. His loving kind amazing fiancée had just butchered two men in front of him, crippled a third and spoke the words…’Kill him’. Joey took a deep breath, he needed absolutely no encouragement.
Vincenzo: WAIT, WAIT, PLEASE!!! ALESSANDRA, JOEY, I can tell you who Sam i-
Joey: FUCK!
Joey regretted pulling the trigger a split second after Vincenzo’s head was reduced to mush and his brains hung like hash browns and ketchup from the back of his head. Vincenzo slumped lifeless to the floor. Now there’s no knowing who Sam was. All that was left was silence. Joey scanned the room watching the carnage, always were a lucky one eh? He looked at Alessandra, who was removing personal belongings from the pockets of each of the dead men.
Joey: What are you doing?
Alessandra looked at him with a wry smile.
Alessandra: You’re not very good at this are you Joseph?
She approached him and gave him a hug.
Alessandra: I’m sorry.
Joey: W-what?
Alessandra: I’ll get the mess cleaned, let’s go home.
Alessandra pulled her phone out and held it in one hand talking to someone about ‘cleanup crew’ and reporting the death of Vincenzo, in the other hand she took Joey’s hand and they walked from the building. Joey was in a haze, he staggered alongside her from the building. It was night time, they walked half a block before getting to where Alessandra’s car was parked.
Joey: My- my car…
Alessandra: It will be cleaned and in our drive tomorrow. Don’t worry.
She clicked to unlock the car and opened the driver’s door. Sat in the back of the car like nothing had happened was Christian.
Christian: Daddy!
Joey opened the back door and hugged his son.
Alessandra: See, I told you he had just gone to the shop, we picked him up together didn’t we? It was a little mission! Don't worry about Daddy, he just had a little fall while out, silly Daddy!
Christian: Yeah!
Joey climbed into the seat next to Alessandra. They looked at each other and both broke into a smile, she mouthed the words ‘I love you’. The quietest, most understated those words had ever been spoken in this turbulent and fucked up relationship, but they were the words that hit Joey the hardest, for the first time in his pathetic miserable existence, his time of being a leech and a parasite, a bum a junkie and a thug, through everything good and bad, unconditionally. He knew now what it truly felt to be loved.
Lucky XIII
March 9th - 08:03
A completely pitch black room. A voice.
“I know what you’re thinking.
We got on so well without him here.
Things are much more bearable without his toxic presence.
What was once a brewing dynastic presence that was going to tear up everything in its wake; an undefeated, unbeatable monster ripping the heads off all comers has become nothing more than a footnote in the memory of all the fans...
...that’s the thing about certain memories, you can push them to the back of your mind most of the time, but every so often when you’re drifting off to sleep. They roll back again and haunt your sleep. These memories never fade.”
“And neither do the scars”
Light. The room is illuminated, Joey Flash, alone. He takes a deep breath, soaking in the smell.
Joey: Welcome back Joey Flash. The King without a crown addresses you now, WCF faithful it’s been an interesting time. The champions fall and new ones rise to take their place, the champions are thrown to the dogs and treated as leftovers, new people take their place and life goes on as it always did. Joey Flash though? That doesn’t happen to him, no siree Joey Flash doesn’t lose, Joey Flash will be here for us forever, and he’ll be the one shining light to carry us through the boggy mire of mediocrity forever more. For millions the one certainty in their lives was being able to sit down in front of their television and know for sure that they would be able to see a wrestling clinic and the one man stood triumphant yet again.
It didn’t matter if they hated or they loved, they watched, they fucking watched. How many wrestlers on the roster can say every time they appear on television they have the viewers in the palm of their fuckin hand?
Then at Slam, poof out of nowhere it’s like someone pulled a George RR Martin on the WCF script and the fans were stood aghast and in stony silence as their constant was just…ended. The people didn’t know whether to cheer or to cry, they wondered and thought ‘Hey this is all a joke right? Joey is playing? Huh huh Momma Joey’s playing right?!’ The bell rings and that is that. The reign is over, the era is over and the undefeatable aura is blown away like a grain of sand in a gale.
Joey leans forward.
I lost. I fucking lost.
He begins clapping.
What did you all think was going to happen when it eventually happened? Did you expect me to take my ball and disappear? Did you expect me to get in angry huff and lash out at anything? True, I got angry and took my frustrations out after the match, I blasted Grime in the head and I cost him his one moment of crowning glory. It’s not becoming of a champion on my part. Do you expect me to make up some excuses about the match? Do you want me to tell you I had trouble outside the ring that translated to the performance? Oh I know, that old classic ‘I didn’t get pinned and I didn’t submit!’ You really expect me to be running around spouting that shit?
I lost, end of discussion. Doesn’t matter how, doesn’t matter why, it’s a blemish on the record and a night unable to sleep wondering what you could have done differently. It’s that sadness you feel when you’re looking at the bottom of a bottle and realise that for that one second, that one moment in time and in history you weren’t the man, you were just a loser.
Psyche, right? That’s what you’re thinking, Joey’s gonna go all kinds of honey glazed ham now and he’s gonna hit that beastmode button? Sorry for the disappointment, not this time. I can tell you right now how I’m gonna handle my business from hereon. The words ‘sloppy’ and ‘careless’ are gone and fucking removed from my vocabulary, I got the ‘quit’ and the ‘lazy’ beaten out of me and all that is left is single minded domination.
Joey smiles.
This is what Zen feels like and shit right? You saw something amazing the last three plus months of my existence here, something that will never ever be replicated here and that’s mine, I can store that in my achievement cupboard and be proud of it. I entrust my belt to the man who is the ‘1’ in 13-1, Grime, you won, end of discussion. Just do it proud, I beg you do this shit proud, if I find the man who has ended this streak and is to carry the Television Title into a new era loses or shirks in his duty I’m going to bodybag you worse than you could get anywhere else in this federation. You have a buzz now, but where will that go, what will you do? If the answer is ‘failure’ I’m going to annihilate you. This is the last thing I’m going to say about this situation, ain’t gonna be no retaliation, ain’t gonna be no feud, ain’t gonna be no badmouthing or shit talking on my end, just a friendly warning. If we are ever face to face at opposite sides of that ring again, if you ever have the bad luck to match up with me again I’m going to eviscerate every fibre of your being, I’m going to beat you and humiliate you so badly it’s going to make what you did to me look like a tickling contest between five year olds. Just…don’t push things Grime, I don’t want this any more than you do.
So onwards and upwards is it? Where should Joey Flash go from here? Right now I’m nothing more than a rudderless ship, I have no goals and I have no plans. I’m not concocting a big elaborate plan to say ‘Fuck you’ to Seth or anyone else, I’m not going to return back to ‘default Joey’ mode and attack Occulo, fuck that, I made my bed and I’m lying in it. What do I do about this though, do I let this first loss get to me in a way it destroys me or do I harness the pain and the hurt into positive energy and plow on forward taking control of my course once more?
The answer is fuck all these hypothetical ridiculous questions I’m asking myself, regardless of what you saw on Sunday night I am still the best wrestler in the entire company. No more arrogance, no more jokes, no more bullshit, one slip up doesn’t change that. All it does it double my focus and make me more driven to kill shit in a way only I can.
This was going to be a week off me, I was gonna kick back and take stock of things in the federation. Discuss with my managers and agents the next move in my career here and get a future planned out, let my niggling injuries heal up and come back with a bang in a couple of weeks. I’ve been fighting nonstop since I arrived, no weeks off, no days off, just constant grind. I can do that shit, yeah, but it takes a toll on your body and your mind, so when I got a call from Jayson Price I answered that shit expecting a drunken tirade and the offer of hookers but what I got was an offer for a match. I explicitly said no at first, but then I got that itch, that itch that only performing in front of tens of thousands of people can scratch. I didn’t need the names of the opponents, I just needed the where and when. XIII was failing, Occulo bailed; Jayson’s little Pantheon showcase match wasn’t looking so hot, so he thought I might be an easy mark, that’s a main attraction, Joey Flash on a losing streak let’s get him under the lights once more asap! He wanted a circus attraction; instead he’s got a hired fuckin assassin. His Pantheon brothers ain’t gonna be happy, ‘I know what will make this an easier showcase for my team, let’s add the best wrestler in the company to face them!’ Yeah, that will work.
Instead of a showcase of Pantheon, this is a showcase of Joey Flash. From not wanting to fight at all I’m now taking on two matches and five men in the space of three nights. This is what separates me from everyone else in this federation, when I’m needed I step up. Fuck that, I WANT to step up, I thrive on it. This isn’t going to be a losing streak; this is Joey Flash showing his heart, his grit and his fortitude as I compete in one of the most dangerous matches in WCF on Friday followed by a main event triple threat on Sunday. This is unprecedented, well when it comes to Joey Flash it’s…expected.
This match has a wealth of talent, there’s someone amazing every way you turn, we have Hall of Famers, future Hall of Famers, former World Champions, current champions, the most talented man in the business…and Seth. Funny that the one person I have a problem with is on my team, fuckin beautiful. Don’t worry Seth I won’t take this as an opportunity to beat your brains to mush, why? Because we’re gonna fucking win. I’ve never met Odin before, and Seth is a dork, so if I have to carry them by their boot strings to glory I’m gonna do it, I’m going into this match with the mentality of a 3v1…and those odds are like a layup for me. Team work? Can there be such a thing in this match? I don’t play well with others; well I haven’t in the past and its cost me. It had cost me opportunities, chances and fuck it, friends. What it isn’t going to cost me is a win, so we’re going to be coming full force, united with the sole purpose of beating the fuck out of you three clowns.
Let’s get it.
The lights go out and the room is enveloped in darkness once more.
Hall of Pantheon
March 9th - 09:00
Joey wanders through the hallways of the WCF HQ passing framed classic photographs of modern legends such as Torture, Slickie T and Bobby Cairo. He stops before a wall which shows the current champions in front of replica belts. He looks at the Television Title belt, ignoring the canvas image of Grime hanging behind it.
Joey: Don’t worry, Daddy’s here
He pats the Television title on walking until he reaches a section reciting the history of Pantheon. He occasionally glances up and lets out a few amused chuckles.
Joey: It’s odd that they celebrate legends and the incredible things they have achieved, then a few yards away they have what equates to a children’s section by putting up a comic book panel about some guys called Pantheon. Ruins the ambience really. Never mind. I guess they had to include something to entertain people with simple minds and lack of great wrestling knowledge. What better to pander to this crowd than images of Pantheon?
I noticed an empty room earlier with a high ceiling which I can only imagine is for my eventual statue, soon enough anyway. So guys, there hasn’t been much of a reaction to the reforming has there? Bit of a damp squib if you ask me. But what do you expect considering the members? They’ve clearly just squeezed out the guys they could find who are too stupid to disagree with any decisions made. The best wrestlers in this federation would tell you exactly where to shove your old boys club, you’re a joke.
Expect the best to show you in this match just how much of a circus Pantheon really is. Who’s ring leader? Well that’s going to be a closer match than the tag match at XIII.
Enough of this meandering warbling, so without further ado let’s get straight to the motherfucking bodybags. Scarecrow, bodybag. Jeff Purse, bodybag. Corey Black I’ll put your bodybag in a bodybag.
Joey wanders the exhibition until he reaches the pedestal of the current WCF People’s Champion.
Scarecrow, before we get this shit started, we’re gonna get some things clear, the main thing being how much of a massive fucking ridiculous hypocrite you are. The whole supreme lone wolf rebel shit becoming nothing more than a hand fed dog at the drop of a name…we’ll get to that, the whole crusade to be a great man and save people but really becoming now nothing but a bit part player in a script of everlasting blandness…we’ll get to that. That ain’t even what I’m mad at, in one five minute speech at the last Slam you single handedly took a shit on everything both you and Pantheon supposedly stand for. You said, actual quotes here people, okay?
“Why do this? Why join Pantheon? To save lives.”
Okay Scarecrow, noble. Then not seconds later the very same guy, Cory Scarecrow, the People’s champion, it’s the same guy people, says this:
“I am King Murder”
…what? WHAT?! Let me rewind that, I need ya’ll to grasp it. The guy said.
“Why join Pantheon? To save lives.”
Then the SAME GUY, SECONDS LATER…
“I am King Murder”
What in holy mother of fuck? Oh I get it because you murder those who cause harm right? Because those nasty men who might use a low blow in a wrestling match or interfere in someone’s title defence deserve to be FUCKING MURDERED?! Jesus if I attack a member of Pantheon with a chair will you shoot me in the face? What? There are a lot of straight up idiots in this federation, I thought you’d maybe give a nice rallying speech to keep the masses at bay, but instead you diffuse anything you’d said before with such a head scratching piece of nonsense. You fight for justice and peace. If you tried to join the Police and they asked you to fill in an application form and wrote:
Surname: Scarecrow
Forename: Cory
Other names: KING MURDER
How do you think the application would go? I think the application would be ripped up and a call to the closest psych ward would be in the offing. See man, this is a microcosm of your character, how are we supposed to know what you fight for and what you believe in? Mr Mixed Signals. You’re like a girl at the bar, giving you the eyes, writing her number down on a napkin and then coming over and kicking you in the shins and saying ‘I’LL CALL THE COPS IF YOU LOOK AT ME AGAIN’, also known as a Corey Black Friday night.
So Mr Murder, you went and did it. You joined Pantheon.
Joey claps.
Joey: I enjoyed your little speech, though the more you talked the more your supposedly altruistic motives became hollow in front of our very eyes. The ideals of ‘looking after the integrity of the fed’ and ‘fair competition’ are the very same as ‘Protect and Serve’. How’s that working out? You strike me as the cop who hides behind the badge while giving it to the little black kid with your nightstick, spraying him with mace and writing it in the report as ‘He attacked me’ when he just came to ask you what time it was. You’re there for the name and the rights it supposedly gives you and nothing more. You are coward and weakling who couldn’t do it on his own, you knew you couldn’t hang with the top tier in this federation and you went scurrying off under the first flying banner you could find. That’s the core difference between a pretender, you; and a contender, me. I do it myself, I’ve never needed or asked for anyone’s help here, I’ve actively distanced myself from every single wrestler in this federation, why? Pride and professional honour, two things you chucked in the waste the moment you started fighting under Pantheon colours.
I’m going to do things myself here, I’m going to be World Champion by years end and I will have done it by myself, no shortcuts, no helping hands. It will legitimize everything I do in that ring, you? You’ll hang about in the mid card being held back by the likes of Omega and Price; you think you’re competing for top honours while these people are around? The amount of arrogance and self-entitlement in your stable from those two alone is noxious, where does the little Scarecrow fit into this? I get it, you’re here for the good fight, and you don’t care about titles, right? Give me a fucking break, you’d be fighting in a ditch somewhere if that were the case and not plying your trade in a sport of athletic competition. It makes me laugh, for such an introverted loner such as you were it was always bubbling under the surface. The need for recognition and to be looked at and people to say ‘Hey it’s Scarecrow I know him!’ rather than ‘Ugh get that weirdo off TV Mom!’
There is a clear difference between us Scarecrow, I know what I am, I know my means haven’t been the best, the most honourable but at least I’ve done it with all that I am. I know what I’m doing, I believe what I’m doing will give me the results I desire. You? You’re an arrogant little child playing at ‘wrestling’. So joining Pantheon? I guess that’s the next step for someone who has no clue of self-improvement or progression. Everything I’ve done is of my own making, every achievement and every opportunity of born from my talent and my skill alone, you? Nu-uh, see one thing I’ve never done to make my claim as the best in this federation is dick ride a bigger name to make a name for myself.
It’s sickening what’s happened to you, I used to have a sliver of respect for you. You were your own man and you did things your own man, this man, the very man who joined Pantheon, a group that, again, we’re quoting here. Scarecrow, Mr Murder said these words shortly before Christmas:
“I have no higher authority to answer to, no dark lord to blow before, no round table to pick scapes from. I am the Scarecrow. I stand on the field of battle, alone. I bear the burden of responsibility for my actions, alone. I don’t outsource them to Romans or Kings. I don’t wear the colors of an army, or stand to attention to the bugle call.”
Honourable, I LIKE it, that’s fire motherfucker, that’s the killer instinct you need to survive in this croc pool, great! Then yet again Mr Murder I almost fell out my fuckin chair, cos at Slam you, the very same guy who spoke those last words, gave us this fuckin gem:
“Signing up with Pantheon takes my name off the board. You all need to know the truth. Because the truth of it all is easy to understand; nobody fucks with Pantheon. We are an army now; we are dedicated and we are tenacious. You mess with one? You mess with all. And that, is something nobody can survive.”
Wow. Just…wow. Do I even need to CRITICALLY ANALYSE this shit?! You’ve abandoned your code, your pride and everything that made you, you. Fuck you Scarecrow, a straw man with a straw backbone yeah you might have a brain but you sure as shit don’t have the heart. You’re maddening, you’re someone completely different, it seems on the flight to last Slam when joining Pantheon you touched down and changed into a complete different character like in GTA 5.
We’ve been in this federation together for months now and never once have we stepped inside a ring with each other. Maybe it’s just bad luck on my part that I haven’t got to beat you senseless yet, I guess everything happens for a reason though right? You were on the straight and narrow, following the goals and ideals you set yourself, then the second you compromise who you are BAM there’s Joey Flash across the ring from you and you’re three seconds away from having some humility beaten into you.
You’ve been embroiled in this shit with Odin Balfore for how long now? One month? Two? Let me ask you man, who is Odin hurting here? What is he doing that is so egregious to your moral code? He’s a retired wrestler who simply made a couple of comments about your wack ass; wanna know what you’re supposed to do when a legend addresses you? Take the smack, the criticism or the praise and move the fuck on. No, not Mr Murder, you have to get the last word, you always have to look strong, and no one looks down on you, right? Your ego is carrying you into your own grave and you don’t even realise it. I’m not sucking anyone's THICK here, Odin Balfore is better than you, simple. He always was, he always will be, I want to body Jonny Fly, I’ve said as much many times, but am I harassing him at every turn? Am I guiding my entire purpose to try fighting a wrestler who is fucking retired? You have a wealth of challenges here so why you think it’s okay to do what you’re doing is a slap in the face to real competition here. So Odin man, I’ll deal with this for you not cos of friendship or of teamwork, but cos of simple professional fuckin courtesy. When I pitch down with you Scarecrow, you ain’t getting a free pass to walk to Balfore.
You’ve become both a liability to yourself and a disappointment, at the end of the day it’s going to be Cory looking back at you in the mirror and you’ve disappointed him massively. You have allowed yourself to be transformed from a real presence, a man wandering the apocalyptic landscape fending off anyone who tries to stop him. A man writing his own book of chronicles that will one day be part of WCF Legend entitled “The Book of Scarecrow” and anyone who wanted to play the lone wolf card would read it like the manual on how to do it better than anyone has ever done before. But now, you’ve gone from the protagonist of a great leather back first edition tome of knowledge to just another page in the cheaply and mass manufactured catalogue of Pantheon. Forgettable. Unicorn hair to plastic spoon, it would be sad if it wasn’t so pathetic.
For the rest of the time in your career here you’ll hear the chants of Pan-the-on! Pan-the-on! Pan-the-on! But the words your subconscious will be speaking to you in those dark moments will be ‘Sell out, Sell out, Sell out!’ One of those will last longer than the other, one will make you momentarily happy and medicated for the rest of your career but the other will leave you hollow for the rest of your life. You can tell me then if all of this was worth it.
He continues wandering the Pantheon section of the display, finding, tucked away in a corner somewhere a small tribute to retired ex World Champion Jeff Purse. Doesn’t he look cute holding that belt?
Joey: We take this time from the serious shit for a brief interlude; I call this section of the telecast ‘Comic relief involving a worthless idiot called Jeff Purse’, and no Jeff you can’t use that for your autobiography title. Lemme start by addressing the main problem I’m having with you, why the fuck are you even in this match? I’m here on a whim, but you? You thought it would be a good idea to step back into the ring after such a hiatus in such a highly dangerous, high leverage match? What are you thinking? Well no matter. The last we saw of you, you got your ass beat by Eric Price and then fucked off away again. What does that say about A) Your talent level and B) Your compete level? What it says to me is that you have neither of these in the stratosphere needed to step into a match anywhere near Joey Flash. You might have been able to luck into a good performance, shit maybe even a win against someone else, but to be thrust into this match with me across the ring is something I wouldn’t even wish on you. You are rusty, out of shape and out of touch and I’m gonna fuckin light you up.
This is an interesting scenario for you, when you left you hated Pantheon and now you’re back you suddenly like them and are teaming with them again, how exactly does that work? How did you even join their ranks in the first place? Did they feel sorry for ‘the little weird OCD kid’ and kept you around as a janitor? Maybe Jonny Fly needed someone to laugh at, boss about and keep as a servant? You’re the little nerdy kid in the corner of every school that the jocks laugh at but give high fives as an inside joke for them to enjoy you thinking you’re part of something.
You have had an interesting life for someone so dull Jeff.
BMX rider >>> OCD Suffering Wrestler >>> Wins World Title/gets run over >>> Listens to a puppet.
That’s like five different Stephen King novels in one, you’ve lived the dream. Which Jeff Purse are we going to get at XIII? Mat Hoffman? Rain Man? Stone Cold Steve Austin? Fuckin Gepetto? I don’t think it matters, each one is a let-down and each one is a walkover. You are the wildcard of this matchup, cos I have no idea what you’re coming with, only thing I know is it’s gonna be soft as baby wipes. If I spent my time going at you as a person I’d be here all fuckin day, so how about we go all in with how you’re such a bonafide, A-Class, jobba motherfucker in that squared circle.
You were World Champion, yet never beat a World Champion for their belt. That’s a blow to your professional pride right there, fuck if I’m counting a win in free for all clusterfuck of a match as a legitimate title victory, you fluked your way to winning War and became champ, cool. What did Jeff Purse do with this boon? He defended the title successfully once. Once…against some fucker called Synn and ADAM fucking YOUNG are you kidding me? Is this a joke? I had to make sure so I went and watched this shit, yep that match happened, and you won. That is your one title defence, good fucking god. Next time you’re up with the title on the line ya get crushed by Eric Price who is just as terrible as you are. So, let’s think about this for a second okay? He never defeats a World Champion for their belt in a high leverage match, he defeats Adam Young in his one title defence and then loses the biggest match of his life main eventing One. Not only that, but he comes back for last One in a rematch of his biggest and most disgraceful defeat against Eric Price…and LOSES AGAIN.
You’re ‘The Future’? You’re barely the fucking past. You are everything that was wrong with this federation, a lower tier talent who rode the ‘Pantheon’ train into a spot they didn’t earn nor deserve. My problem isn’t fear or hatred for Pantheon, it’s because I’m not, it’s because I’m categorically not going to allow another Jeff Purse to happen in my era here. Talent and skill with win through every time now Joey Flash is patrolling his ring. You start at the bottom and you work your way up with guts, skill and hard work. For all my bravado that’s exactly what I’ve done, it’s why I took this match, it’s why I’ll win this match and it’s why I’m proving week after week I’m just as good as I say I am.
For you Jeff, this is probably a one off, you thought you’d hop back into the ring and enjoy a nice fun little scrap before hopping back out. You’re hopping no fucking where after I’m done; you’re taking a trip on a fuckin stretcher instead. Enjoy your stint in hospital and the lengthy rehab; it’s worth it I’m sure. Part timers don’t belong anywhere near the ring of a honed wrestling machine, so fuck off back to whatever little hovel you were residing in you Gepetto ass mothafucka and don’t disgrace our screens with your presence ever again. I will shut you down like massive organ failure.
Your career has been nothing but a mix of luck and losing and getting beaten the fuck up by Eric Price. Almost every other member of the old Pantheon is a multiple time World Champion; you got such as a ‘thanks for competing’ award. So whether you come down riding a fuckin bike, adjusting everyone’s hat brim or with a fucking puppet telling you what to do it doesn’t matter in the slightest, because at the end of the day you are still Jeff Purse, perennial loser and butt of every inside joke and I am Joey Flash, the best wrestler in the company.
Joey continues on his trip, stopping at the single largest display in the entire area, a large poster of Corey Black hangs, with multiple plaques detailing his illustrious…fuckin very illustrious career in the WCF.
Joey: I think I’m getting tingles, I can feel the hair on the back of my neck begin to rise, my cockles are well and truly warmed, cos guess what guys? Joey Flash is taking on his first ever bonafide Hall of fucking Famer in this match, what a treat for the Joey Flash fan(s) worldwide. Standing opposite me is the founder of the legendary Pantheon, many time WCF World Champion, Mr Corey Black. Well hello sir, please to be meeting you, I got excited when I was told your credentials, facing someone of importance, of decoration and of respect. So I rushed to watch the back catalogue of your matches, all your classics were in there. I went from:
Excited to Expectant to Puzzled to Baffled to Angered to Disgusted.
Want to know what I learned in my research? The five minutes I spent watching a tape of you told me everything I needed to know about facing you. I learned you are, absolutely, positively, without question a no doubt in question a terrible, terrible wrestler. It’s like when you go back and watch 60’s QB’s fuckin noodle arms, Tim Tebow would have been the GOAT back then. I’ve seen more talent in Adam Young matches than in the garbage you call a back catalogue…aight maybe not, you ain’t that bad. You wanna do the same of me, check out my special DVD ‘The Best of WCF’ it’s called.
So Corey, is being called Corey a good way to gain entry to Pantheon nowadays? If Corey Young, Coreyhazard and Ultimate Corey applied would they get fast tracked entry? Yeah you brought lil Cory Scarecrow into your club, if you had a ‘No Cor(e)y’s!’ sign outside ya clubhouse you’d get considerably better. Scarecrow reminds you of you thirteen years ago, cute, so in thirteen years will he be an old relic who could just about hang in his own era yet tries to cling onto relevance by bringing in some worthless lackeys to do his work for him while he sits about twiddling his thumbs thinking ‘Oh if I were in my prime…’ if you were in your prime nothing. You’re out of your prime and now you’re well and truly out of your depth, you’re a toddler dropped in the deep end of the pool. Huh, I guess the comparison is quite apt eh?
Now what do I possibly have to say to you man? We’ve never had a single interaction, you’ve never mentioned my name and I’ve never mentioned yours. You’re not an enemy, you’re not a friend, you’re just a nice guy who has spent over a decade slaving and working hard to make his way in the wrestling business, and you’ve conquered championship after championship. Your trophy cabinet is the most impressive of any wrestler in this company’s history. You’re a lot like me bro, minus the looks, the skills, the charm, the wit and the wrestling ability. Aside from that it’s like looking in a mirror. What can I say to denigrate your performances?
I could tell you that I admire your guts and determination, and that in another life we’d be sharing a beer and that knowing glow of friendship, but I suppose if I’m really truthful I could say that you are a pathetic dinosaur of a long lost era of wrestling, clinging to his lost dreams like a delusional, and as soon as you retire, likely fat, piece of shit.
You saw how the federation was progressing without you, things were going fine and dandy, the place was in good hands, the new generation had everything under control, fan viewership was up, and the talent roster wide was astounding. The problem for you Corey is with the rise of Joey Flash, Occulo, DVS, Jay Omega, Scarecrow and Fenix people didn’t care about you anymore. You’re that WWE segment where Hulk Hogan appears to a collective sigh, you’re good for one thing ‘brother’ and that’s ‘Pantheon’. That one word can keep you relevant; can keep people who had forgotten your past glories interested in finding out who the hell you are. So rather than doing the thing a true professional, a man with a fighting heart would do and take on these challenges, would tell Joey Flash ‘This is my ring, I’ll beat you up and throw you out of it’ like a five time champion should do, like a fucking one time champion should do what did you do instead? You took four of the biggest talents in the federation and pulled them into your little cabal. Shit, that’s four people you won’t have to face again isn’t it Corey? You’ve done well. If anyone tries to come after you well shit that’s four human shields.
Joey smiles and shakes his head.
Joey: It’s a great idea Corey; I salute you for it, really. But you’ve made one fatal error in all your calculations here. You’ve got all your misconceptions about the landscape in the WCF right now, somehow that bringing six solid wrestlers together will what? Make you the all-powerful force here? You seem to have gravely ignored one Joseph fucking Flash. No one will attack Pantheon? You may be right, but I’m going at your fucking pride that’s for sure. Weak willed, weak minded fools.
What you’re doing now smacks of desperation. Wanna know what all your ridiculous belts and trophies mean to me? Wanna know what they’ll mean to you when you’re in the ring with me? You tell me, what is the gold on your wall going to do to help when you’re getting your face beat in, getting out wrestled, getting out skilled, when you are getting humiliated in the very ring that you have ruled for over ten fucking years.
The way this match has been booked is sickening, in a straight up wrestling match this is a triple homicide, murder in the first degree with a fuckin beat down from yours truly, but now no one will have to see what happens to you when you fight a prodigy at his own game. But I guess your own pride of being embarrassed is more than the pain you are willing to take when I’m smacking you round your ugly mush with a crowbar.
Your formula cannot beat me, behoove you to try Corey, you need something to spark ya bro. You can’t beat me with your mediocre skills and your outdated tactics. Times change, wrestling changes, you need to do the same. Although no need bring age into this, this fight would happen the same any era we wrestled, so it’s not like I’m going to be aiming to beat 2015’s wrestling style round your head. I’ll beat your own style over your head just to make sure you know your place.
No titles on the line in this match, my first time in three months that ain’t the case so I can really let loose on you, ‘UNDEFEATED AT XIII!!!’ would be impressive if there were more than like five fuckin events of it in its history. That shits gonna change up right quick, this is your show, this is your time to shine, where Mr Black is at home, only fitting he gets suited up for his final meal before he gets strapped down and got rid of for good, time for Creeping Death to Ride the Lightning.
Joey sighs and wanders back through the halls, taking in the remaining displays.
Joey: It comes down to this, all petty rivalries, histories, title wins, accolades aside, the fact still remains that the best wrestler in this match is Joey Flash. All your hopes, dreams and histories are reduced to ash in the face of such a being. Over the past few months I’ve been down paths so dark even my shadow wouldn’t follow me, for the first time in my WCF career the breaking of the sunlight is breaking through the clouds and falling across Joey Flash. This breaking dawn will be the twilight for all of you motherfuckers…shit that was corny, rewind…Joey Flash is going to beat the fuck out of all of you, good, that was better. I reign over this federation with such dominance that what happens to you at XIII is entirely up to me; I can take or save lives like a surgeon’s knife. Finally I get to eat something of sustenance, my talent and my hunger for competition has been starving to death and finally I get a warm meal.
So Pantheon, old and new I ain’t giving out these bodybags for free at XIII no no, you motherfuckers are going to earn it.
CUT
