Post by Joey Flash on Feb 18, 2016 14:38:04 GMT -5
Go tell all your friends that this is the end.
A storm was coming. The dark clouds swirled over the rooftop garden of La Societa, what was once a beautiful floral display had been reduced into a sad droopy mass of mulch through the winter frost of the New York nights. Stood looking over his kingdom once more was the Lord of all he surveyed. It had been weeks, nay, months since he had even so much as stepped through the door of his once thriving social club. Glancing around his garden it made his chest tighten and stomach knot with a hollow sadness. It was as if the club itself had imbibed the mental state of its owner, the bloom and happiness had given way to the cold reality of death.
Flash watched as the city lived out its life beneath him, he watched as the little dots in the hunks of metal sped past. Each of those hunks of metal contained its own story, contained its own set of hardships, its losses and its victories, its happiness and its success. He reached a hand down as if to touch a car that had pulled up at a red light. He wondered what tale was inside that one. Maybe a young couple driving somewhere quiet to fuck away from prying parental eyes, maybe a man on his way home from a hard day’s work making sure to stop off at the liquor store on the way, maybe a former WCF World Champion slowly trying to rebuild himself. He closed his eyes as he pictured the last one and felt a smile cross his lips, then the heavens opened.
A crack of thunder so powerful it felt like the sky itself was ripping asunder bellowed across the sky, Joey opened his eyes at the exact moment a fork of lighting lit the sky up like a thousand ‘Happy New Year’ firework displays. The New York skyline was alight with electricity; Joey held his arms out and looked skyward as the droplets began to pound down upon him. Within a matter of seconds Joey was soaked through to the skin, but to him in this moment it didn’t matter at all. This was beautiful. The cool, hard droplets of rain were refreshing, were revitalising. He held his arms out and embraced the storm as another thunderclap rang out; he stood like the statue of Christ above Rio de Janeiro looking down as his cities protector, as his cities deity. His godhood was broken by a voice from behind him.
Voice: I hate the rain.
Flash turned round, instinctively on guard at the sound of the voice. Stood before him in a large hooded cloak was his former nemesis, the man with whom he had spent the best part of a year going to war with. They had traded injuries, wins, losses, casualties, sadness and heartbreak. Now under the tempest of the early Spring sky they stood as allies. Dune pulled the hood further over his head and approached Joey.
Dune: It’s not a pleasant sensation.
Joey: I disagree.
The two men leant over the balcony next to each other.
Dune: You would.
Another crack of lighting spread across the sky before being chased by the thunder. Joey and Dune shared a glance.
Joey: How did we get here?
Dune: I don’t know about you but I used the elevator.
The big man with the mechanical mandible suppressed a chuckle.
Dune: But, yeah. I get you. It’s almost surreal. My body still has the desire to hurt you, my bones still feel the pain, my muscles still have the memory of everything we did.
Joey: Good.
Dune: Good?
Joey: I thought I was weird for having the same feelings.
Dune: No. You don’t erase what happened between us. Joey I’m so-
Joey: Don’t speak. I know.
Joey rests his hand on Dune’s shoulder and the two lock eyes.
Joey: I’ve run through this moment about two hundred times in my mind. What I will say to you, how you’ll react, what you’ll say to me and how I’ll react. The things that happened…Pinky, Chief…
Dune: Christian.
Joey winced at the name.
Joey: Christian. This shit was-
Dune: Taken care of. The Jackal is gone.
Dune didn’t finish his thought path that would have added the words ‘for now’ at the end of that sentence.
Dune: We were pawns.
Joey winced again.
Dune: You are a proud man, it is hard to admit. You conquered it Joey. You got revenge for Christian, for Pinky, for everyone.
Joey: WE got revenge.
The two men faced each other.
Joey: For all the hatred and venom, for all the wars outside the ring when we stood across from each other and first exchanged blows it was then I realised it was true. You know how like you hear stories about great samurai and shit who when they crossed swords with another skilled opponent that you show your heart and soul, your warrior spirit, to one another? Bullshit right. But when I fought you, when I felt a knee rip up my insides, when I felt my fists chisel away at your ribcage…when we were carted off to the hospital almost side by side it wasn’t anger I felt, it wasn’t hatred, even through everything we had done to each other. It was-
Dune: Serenity.
Joey snapped his fingers.
Joey: Serenity. You are the best wrestler I have ever fought, unquestionably. You are the only one to ever push me to my limits. You-
Dune: What is this, suck Dune’s dick day? What’s gotten into you? HELLO IS THE REAL JOEY HERE? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HIM?!
Joey: Look you fucking bitch I was trying to be nice.
Dune: That’s more like it.
Joey: Look, what I’m trying to tell you is out of the people I’ve faced since I’ve been here there are only two who have ever managed to drag that final ten percent of Joey Flash out of me. One is you, the other is John. Bullshit right? To think I’d someday be sharing a ring as team mates with you both, it’s mindboggling. The things that have happened between Joey Flash and The Sentinels and here I am going to be standing next to you on Slam and we’ll be defending the Trios Titles together. Surreal doesn’t even fucking cover it.
Know this much Dune, I am not a Sentinel. I never will be. I will never stand under that banner and be talked of as a hero, as a protector. Your ideals?
"We won’t be cast aside. There are powerhouses in this company that are going to engage in an all-out war and we won’t play the part of the rubble their destruction leaves behind...”
I AM that powerhouse.
...As Sentinels we will stand when they demand us to fall and we will sing when they demand silence"
I AM that silence.
I will never be a Sentinel…but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let us lose this match. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let us lose any match. I am going to give my all in this match. I am going to give my everything. For everything I have done to the pair of you, for everything that led us to this point…I am going to give you both that last ten percent.
The two men stood in rainy silence for a moment, the cacophony of the downpour their soundtrack. Dune turned and brushed past Flash, pulling his hood further over his head and pressing the button on the elevator. After a few moments the door opened and Dune turned to face Flash once more.
Dune: You’re wrong. Remember, when fighting you I found out more about you in those two bouts than anyone could ever need. Want to know what I found out? That last ten percent you’re talking about? I think you’re kidding yourself. That’s just a drop in the ocean of the potential you have. Seeing you at full flight and being able to do absolutely nothing about it, it was short, but it was there. You make me angry because you don’t even understand the power you have.
Joey: Is it Joey Flash dick sucking time now? HELLO? WHERE IS THE REAL DU-
Dune: Secondly…
Dune stepped inside the elevator and pushed the button for the ground floor.
Dune: …you’re more of a Sentinel than you know.
Laugh at Mr Sharks
He toweled his wild black hair down as he entered his rooftop office. The rain was still pounding away at the roof; it felt like the horsemen of the apocalypse were galloping across the sky in his honour. He pulled his sodden hoodie over his head and deposited it on the floor, following it were his jogging pants and sneakers, the set of clothing was made complete by his socks and underpants. Flash stretched as he looked out across his garden once more before placing his wet clothing on the radiator behind his desk. He would have to wait at least an hour or two before he had anything arid enough to wear on the way back to the house. He might as well wait out the storm.
He opened the laptop that he kept on his desk and fired it up. Better time than any he thought. He adjusted the webcam to film only his upper torso. He remembered the summer days of perpetual nakedness in the WCF Tinychat room and wistfully brushed his hair behind his ears. A *ping* from the speakers rang out and an email popped up.
Joey clicked the attachment, the picture showed a bloody and battered Joey Flash laying on the canvas at Fifteen, stood over him was Jared Holmes and Thursday Kerrigan, a grinning Thursday looking into the camera and flashing a ‘peace’ sign for the selfie.
He sent a reply.
He stood up for a moment and angled the webcam south, snapping a picture of his flaccid Sicilian sausage, making sure to flash a ‘peace’ sign next to it.
Joey: Fuck my life.
He brushed his hair back again and angled the camera back toward his face, opening his video recording software and pressed that big ol’ record button. He gives a wave, then begins his favourite pastime: ethering #BeachKrew.
Joey: Hey what’s up? Hello! Well this is an interesting one isn’t it guys? I wasn’t on Slam last Sunday guys, wanna know why? Because I got attacked by #BeachKrew, amazing isn’t it? Those little rapscallions, they sure showed the federation that they mean business at Fifteen. They attacked poor little Joey Flash who was celebrating his win, what scoundrels. Savages, horrible people, what will they do next? They really are some geniuses I admit, I wonder what goes on in big bad Six God’s mind when he spent months of machinations ruminating on his return. *ding* on goes light bulb.
‘UHHHH WE ATTACK THE BIGGEST NAME IN THE FEDERATION!!!!!!!!!!!!’
That’s some Pantheon-esque work there. Congratulations. That college education done paid off right there! I’m staggered. But wait, who is with the great Six God? It’s lower card jobber Andre Aquarius and Flashjobber John Gable who we now HAVE to be convinced have gone through some kind of power up because they’re wearing like spooky masks and shit. I’m intimidated.
These two guys look like they’ve just hopped out of an episode of Goosebumps and jumped in the ring. Give…me…a…fucking…break.
So here comes the return of Mr Cheap Shot, Mr Cheap Heat, Mr Never won an important major match in his whole career. Los Tiburones has arrived folks, all #BeachKrew’s worries are gone, the LEADER is back. Let’s see how inspirational the return of Mr Sharks is?
Kyle Kemp…oh he got the win. What amazing leadership, the man truly knows the business.
Dustin Beaver…oh well, tough luck, we lost a title but have lots of chances coming!
Johnny Rabid…lost to Logan. I don’t need to go any further. Great leadership sport, you did a great job rallying the troops to get bodied by washed up nobodies, well your World Champion best friend is fighting Jayson Price another washed up nobody, surely he cant…
Wade Moor…oh-uh..ah. He got dominated and absolutely fuckin whitewashed.
Well done Jared you fucking goof, Rome wasn’t built in a day but you went and destroyed it in a single night. Welcome to the trust fund baby blues, with this guy in charge what can possibly go wrong? How these guys even put up with listening to this faggot is absolutely beyond me. Almost every single member of the faction is a) better than him and b) more accomplished him. Any leader would hop in and nurture the success, instead he hops in and destroys it, why? Simple: The success didn’t make him look good, didn’t put him over. #BeachKrew is HIS baby, HIS brainchild; this is meant to be HIS show. How dare anyone else in the group take HIS spot? You are not supposed to succeed, you are supposed to be the pieces around him that make him succeed, this is supposed to be the Jared Holmes proves he is one of the best in the federation show, just take your orders, support him in his goals and-
Protect the patch
Always stay true to the MC
Brothers fore/#ver.
#HelpJaredGoOverNoMatterWhat
#JaredBatesThomasHolmes
…damn what’s this…
Joey smiles.
Joey: I’m getting that Dark Knight Feeling.
He holds a finger up to the camera.
Joey: We pause. Jared. You know that one guy you fuck with that you realise quickly you should NOT have fucked with? No. Of course you don’t. Well for you, this is that one guy. Sheltered bitch, you’ve spent a life doing shots, I’ve spent my life taking shots, you’ve spent a life at frat houses, I’ve spent a life at trap houses, you’ve spent a life watching Raw, Rock, Chyna and Smackdown, I’ve spent a life dealing with the raw rock, china and pushing the smack out. My body count is higher than your mongoloid slut mother the night she made the decision not to swallow you. What I’m saying is this, you’re stepping into The Matrix, one call is all it takes and you’ll disappear.
Flash grins.
Joey: But, why so serious? Fuck boy, ya butt moist. Wipe the perspiration up Jared, relax. It’s not going to come to that. On Sunday it’s pretty simple, I’m going to beat the shit out of you, then boot it back in you. You will lay there like a subservient faggot as I smash the deluded sense of self-entitlement out of you. We exist in two different worlds both in ring and out, I could take an axe to your family tree and wipe you completely off the map or I could just embarrass you in the ring and send you scampering back to your place in the midcard losing to Teo Del Sol and getting eliminated from War by Spencer Adams.
Enough of Jared I think-
N-n-n-n-neverending shoot.
Wait your turn Jared, sorry, just like every gangbang in your life you’re going to hit last. You can enjoy the spunky, torn up, crying for daddy remnants of the ethered #BeachKrew cunt.
John Gable is back guys!
Whilst I was getting my head caved in by your attack, nearing unconsciousness, my brain bleeding, my face busted up and my happy moment ruined by #BeachKrew, I even then had only one thought in mind. There was only one thing I noticed, John Gable is back. As I was about to be rushed to hospital and made to take a week away from competition, as I would have to spend time away from my wife, I still had only one reaction.
What was your last act as a member of the Wrestling Championship Federation again? Lemme try to remember this shit. I think I forgot. Oh yeah.
Joey Flash defeats John Gable via pinfall.
Welcome back John, you spent all this time away contemplating your return and your revenge on yours truly. Your whole mindset is around finally defeating the greatest TV Champion of all time (it’s me by the way, you fucking suck) and righting the wrongs of our last clash. Well surprise surprise, yet another guy who is only going dig themselves deeper and deeper in a bad count. You’re finna be 0-2 by the time Sunday is finished.
Pussy ass bitch, you flip flop about fighting more than Jared’s cock flip flops about his disgusting childlike sket of a ‘woman’, that faggot stay fucking her with his eyes closed and thinking of the 6/10 that talked to him in a bar wondering what it’s like to fuck her instead. You’re not a born fighter Gable, you are a fake. You are a fucking golem. You have been given all the tools to do the job, no, you’ve been given MORE than enough tools but what can you do with it? Only what you’ve been taught. There is no instinct inside. I’d be Vlad Guerrero and I’m swinging at anything and everything, you? It could be first and second, 3-0, no outs and you STILL wouldn’t swing. This has shown out in every possible facet of our careers here. In one year I’ve eclipsed you so thoroughly you are to be forever behind me, it’s like you’re an ant walking in the shadow of Gaia.
I’ve influenced everyone who had come after, from David Sanchez to your own fuckboy Jared. They saw the blueprint I used to take over; these people take every little bit of my style and try to turn into success but look how it goes, these clones still ain’t doing shit yet what’s this? Joey Flash is one week away from being World Champion again. I guess some things never change.
You, the great actor to wrestler, what have you done? Who have you inspired? Yep. Kit fucking Harington.
Well done Gable, clap it up you magnificent bastard. Let’s get this in the clear; you are the worst ‘good wrestler’ in the federation. You’ve got an incredible win loss record (by usual standards, certainly by the 5-7 or whatever Jared’s standards bahaha) that makes people think ‘Wow this Gable guy is pretty amazing’ he’s got to be something special. Yet, why can this guy with the amazing record, with all the hype, with all the recognition from the fans just not manage to take the next step? I’ve shared a ring with you and I can tell you why. You are simply not good enough.
Fucking Golem. Your punches are weak, your heart is weak. You brittle bitch, you can overcome 90% of the roster with your mechanized lumbering generic shit but you absolutely cannot step to the likes of Joey Flash. Not yesterday, not today, not any day. It takes transcendence to even make me TRY to beat you. SPOILER ALERT: I’m not going to try with you Gable. You are pure unadulterated filler dogshit. Little bit of advice for you champ, if after three or four years of not progressing beyond the Television Title…it’s not going to happen. Let me remind you, we have legitimately had:
Jay LOLmega
Wade Moor
Jayson Price
Hold the World Championship within the last year, and yet the name John Gable still isn’t there. Good…fucking…god. Why are you even back at this point? You think by riding the coat tails of a group you have no prior association with, making a thin connection through a film no fucker even watched (except me, *Ebert Mode Activated* it fuccin sucked lmfao) but no, lil old Jared’s producer pop helped with your film so of course you’re going to get on both knees take his member deep. That makes perfect sense…if you’re a fucking lunatic.
#BeachKrew, the place where failures reside.
Beaver, failure as a musician.
Rabid, failure as a ‘leader’
Wade, failure as a World Champion.
Gable, failure as an actor.
Kemp, failure as a ball player.
Jared, failure at trying to be a credible threat in the upper midcard scene.
Oddly, you’re also failures as wrestlers, go fucking figure. You are the Raggydolls of the WCF.
John Gable, the world’s smallest violin is playing your song now. The song, you might know it well is the theme of your spot of ‘worthless jobber addition that will add nothing to the stable and promote nothing but mediocrity, doesn’t at all belong in the group and it’s a push at best whether half the members were even considered when Jared brought your wack ass into the fold’.
Ooooh watch me whip
Oooh watch me Nae Nae
Go take that Nae Nae’ing faggot Oblivion and fuck off together to JobberHell.
You take this shit so seriously Gable, you’re chasing me on some Gemini Battle shit. It’s funny that after everything I’m the reason you stepped back in the ring and once I’m through with you on Sunday I’m going to be the reason you fuck off again.
*ping* Joey’s email lit up again.
Delightful! You do care < 33333
Joey couldn’t help but hit that bitch with the “: |” face straight back.
Joey: Out of absolutely nowhere I’ve got the urge for a roasting session.
Hello Andre Aquarius! We haven’t met before. I am your idol, I can already taste the slob on my nuts but please there is no need for such a personal introduction. My introduction is thus:
I had the most lucrative, accolade laden stunning debut year in WCF’s history and already nearly a lock for the Hall of Fame. You are 1-5 or some shit.
What in the holy fuck is this? Where did they find you? How are you in this match? Serious question, who the fuck is this guy? To try find out about this guy I Googled Andre Aquarius, the results said ‘Why?’ You are a drunken, generic, over sexed, bland racial stereotype. You are one of the statistically worst ‘serious’ wrestlers in the entire company, you’re a midget with no real combat experience and yet we are supposed to be taking you credible as a serious threat? This shit is like sickle cell my African-American friend, I just don’t get it.
You appeal to the lowest common denominator; you are D’Angelo if he took things seriously. You are Jared Holmes in blackface; you perpetuate everything stereotypically negative about African-Americans in society today. It makes me sad that someone like yourself can get such promotion that…
Ah fuck I just can’t do it. I hope you get that Trayvon treatment ya faggot. Let me give you some skittles, maybe you can run into Dag or Bates on a dark night with ya hood pulled up and become another martyr to black society. Yay, go Andre. He was such a sweet guy; he did well in school and was loved by everyone!
Oh cheap heat, how I love it. It’s so cute seeing my clones try and copy me, they say imitation is the biggest form of flattery but seeing it done in such a bastardised, uncreative way it’s the biggest insult possible.
***INCOMING VIA JARED HOLMES AND ANDRE AQUARIUS PROMOS: NURSE WE NEED THOSE DEAD BABY JOKES, STAT!***
I guess I have to show you jobbers once more how it’s supposed to be done.
With a smirk, a smile and shake of his head Joey continues ending #PrinceLightSkin’s budding career.
Joey: Fuck being a martyr, you’re probably the one guy whose death Al Sharpton would actually celebrate. Rather than riots, there would be parties in every street in every town. Oh cheap heat. I love it. Andre, since you’ve returned you’re rocking this tough guy swag like you’re invincible, with a swag that says ‘I can’t bleed’ but you have a face that says ‘I can’t read.’ It’s like when God created you he threw darts blindly to create your personality and hit the bullseye on every personality flaw a person could fuckin have. You fuckin swaggot.
You are probably the first black guy to think he is a cast member on ‘Jersey Shore’, I mean shit you’re the closest thing I’ve ever met - and that’s coming from a fucking Italian. I don’t know how out of all #BeachKrew you are the only one like this. The rest of you can be pretty erudite Machiavellian schemers but this fuckin guy? You are a ‘Tapout’ shirt away from being a walking Jaegarbomb.
Your catchphrase is legitimately: #LightSkinIsTheRightSkin
The last famous black guy who thought that ended up owning a monkey, a ranch named after Peter Pan and molesting some children.
You think that this rebranding is somehow going to put you at the forefront of people’s minds? That simply by strapping a mask on your face and acting like you were a badass all along is going to suddenly make people forget the five months of mediocrity that came before? Well shit, Jared is trying to do it too! Nope, not forgotten that guy’s mediocrity either. Must be the craze for you #BeachKrew kids. Bitch, no one has forgotten about how absolutely terrible you are Andre, there is absolutely nothing you can do from here on that will make you a credible threat on any scene. Except maybe the fresh coast gay scene. You’re suddenly more aggressive and tough, I am fucking quaking. Bitch you’re about as gangster as PaRappa the Rapper.
It boils down to one simple thing for you. In this match you are facing Occulo, one of the most talented men on the whole roster (psst, he’s better than you), you are facing Dune, DUNE ANDRE, do you even understand what this means? The most dominant World Champion of recent memory. (psst hey wake up fuckboy, guess what? He’s better than you too!) If that’s not enough it’s time for the M-M-M-M-MONSTERKILL, you’re facing Joey Flash the greatest wrestler in the World today. There is no scenario where you win this match Andre, there is no scenario where you are even remotely competitive. You are the worst member of your team, comprehensively so, and that’s saying something given the dreck that is being served up alongside you.
So you pathetic hipster Blaxploitation reject, I’m doing this for all the African-Americans who get angry every time your bucket hat wearing, smug, smarmy, ignorant, stereotypical negative representation self steps through the ropes. I’m going to pick you apart so easily and so methodically, I will batter you fucking senseless and when I’m done with you they will love me in the hood like it’s the first and fuckin fifteenth.
Let me just make something clear before I move on, I am absolutely, positively NOT racist. It hurts me anyone would think that. Please. I own at least three DVD's starring Morgan Freeman. Now is the part where we end the roast and we get to bodying something.
He switches his posture in the chair and reclines backward with a smile.
Joey: That cunt is sloppy and torn up Jared. Your turn! I wonder what goes on in your mind when you think this shit up. I can just picture you phoning your little college buddies and being all like
I found it mindboggling that you decided to get at Dag Riddik the other week…MOTHERFUCKER LOOK IN THE MIRROR. Yes Jared, you are a spotty, ugly, virginal pseudo-intellectual who tries to push his (terrible) ideas, ideals, tastes in music/art/culture on every fucker else. No, people can’t have opinions while this guy is around. P.S. Tool are better than *insert generic vaporwave artist* in every single facet.
I couldn’t believe when I watched that shit the other week. Shooting at your fucking self without even knowing it, damn you fucking suck. But shit, it’s successful right? Maybe I’ll do it to next opponent a narcissistic, over-emotional, over-compensating idiot who gets by on inflammatory remarks damn I fuckin ethered Jewy Flesh…oh wait.
Joey smiles.
Joey: That’s you too! Wow. It really does work! Well except the emotion part, you’re as one dimensional as it comes. The only thing that falls flatter than your personality is your fucking wrestling career. You prop yourself on a pedestal like you belong in the upper echelon of the federation yet what have you done?
Have you won a meaningful match?
Have you won a meaningful title?
No, you eliminated Six people in a match I’d have won without so much as blinking. Well done sport, gold star. This is how mediocre a career you have Holmes, you gave yourself a nickname from a performance in a match you FUCKING LOST.
That would be like if I suddenly changed my name to ‘Grime Lord’ Joey Flash.
You paint yourself like a great man, a great tactician versed in the human psyche, that you’re able to control, manipulate and dominate situations with so much as a wave of your hand. Yep Jared, we get it, you read The Art of War and The Prince in college. Good lord. You’re so rudimentary and basic it pains me watching you try to bumble around the federation trying to work your way into a dominant position. You’re the type of bitch to say some shit like ‘They are playing checkers where as I, the Six God have been playing…chess!!!!’ Calm your shit down. You think attacking me will get into my head and make me sloppy this week? Any week? You think you’re manipulating me to fall straight into your web where you will consume Joey Flash and take his spot as the dominant alpha male in the federation? You are child’s play to me. I’m already ten steps ahead of you…like you when you’re walking with your ugly eyesore of a girlfriend.
You are the weakest guy with the biggest undeserved rep I have ever seen in this federation, you are butterflies in a sun drenched field of flowers, you are baby bottom Charmin soft. You pose absolutely no threat to me, in any way. Outside of the ring? Please. You’re so soft that I could leave my wife for a night alone with you; you could make her pop a molly and shower with you. That’s the level of comfort I have around the likes of you Jared. I cannot take you seriously when the most famous thing a ‘Jared’ has ever done is eat sandwiches and masturbate over children.
Inside the ring though? This is where we separate ‘Six God’. This is where your coddling is going to get you absolutely well and truly snuffed the fuck out. You’re stepping into a realm you know nothing about against athletes so far above of your calibre it’s not even funny. You are a midcard card filler fighting against a bonafide killer. This is a fucking embarrassment on your end, no Jared, you aren’t going to get the upset win this week, no Jared you aren’t going to make a name off my back this week, no Jared you’re not going to establish any momentum heading into the Trilogy Cup because I will end it before it even begins. Side note, you’re not winning the Trilogy Cup. Jared dunno if you can count but that’s three matches in a row you need to win, I don’t think you’ve even fuckin managed two in a row your entire career.
What you want so badly to be your big coming out party, the time where those two guys Joey Flash and Dune learn that the might of the Six God is beyond even them is going to be nothing more than what happens every week. Joey Flash and Dune win…again. You want your big shot so bad right now; well I’m giving you it.
How does it feel? I bet little Jared’s soul is damn near leaving his body right now. He’s thanking the heavens that it’s not a singles match right now. This? Just tip of the iceberg hombre, this is me going light on you so I don’t destroy your spirits too bad. I could do with a laugh watching your delusional self-aggrandising psyche being shattered when you fall in like the Trilogy Cup semi-finals or some shit.
‘I WUZ ROBBED’
~LAUGH AT MR SHARKS~
This week though? I’m going to beat you and humiliate you so badly that you’ll probably end up deciding to throw the Trilogy Cup anyway, why would you want to step back into the ring at the end of it with the man who emasculated and bullied you the last time they were together? Well, shit, I guess it’s a trait all submissive controlled bitches share.
This match is fucking child’s play. This is me toying with a kill before I snap the neck. I fear that the past few months of myself and Dan fighting each other that people have started to forget a little bit about what the true top tier of the federation looks like. It’s not Jayson Price, it’s not Wade Moor, it’s not Jared Holmes. There are two men who dominate this federation with such consummate ease that it’s as if they exist in a complete other realm to everyone else. Congratulations #BeachKrew you get to enjoy being the first team to see what happens when Joey Flash and Dune step down to fight you bums…Occulo will also be there. People have success in this federation for one simple reason: we allow it. This time though? We’re hitting the kill switch on #BeachKrew. You don’t get success this week.
This match on paper might look like a classic, a match of the top talent in the federation. It’s not even close to that. This is no classic, this is Joey Flash leaving with three heads in a fucking basket. You might not have understood before, but you will know this Sunday why I am the most feared wrestler in the world, my record is not padded, my wins are not cheap. I am the dominant force in this business. Time for #BeachKrew to learn that lesson for good. I've dismantled every other team you've sent me, time to finally kill the snake this week. It's off with their heads.
You are a tune up fight, Price. You get to watch first hand this Sunday, and you will be as much of a spectator next week when I absolutely fucking wash you. Shine my title, prepare those handsome Joey Flash decals before you hand it to me. Thankya.
We're done here...incoming tag line...Bodybags on deck, lets get it.
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of
As he stepped out of the elevator into the ground floor of La Societa he found himself confronted with the cold reality of his life once more. The once bouncing club would be full of life no matter the night, if not the main dance floors at least the first floor with the four conference rooms would have bookings. Now he was lucky if he got one booking a week and the club’s downstairs only ran open on the weekends. This was in a microcosm what had happened to Joey Flash, upcoming mogul, the youngest Cosa Nostra capo in the tri-state area had become a relic at twenty six. He kept the money kicking upward so there was never any problem, the Allegri’s had helped with the hunt of Dune but were quick to withdraw their helping hand once things got too hot.
Is this what I have become? He approached the bar and picked a half drunken cocktail from it, with a sniff he discerned Gin and then took a sip. Then a gulp. It was quickly dispatched. He pulled his hood up and pushed the door open to be greeted by the sub-zero Brooklyn night. Before he could even take a step he heard a voice shouting from his left.
Voice: Hey motherfucker, this is my corner. You need to get the fuck out of here.
Joey turned immediately and saw himself five feet or so away from a man. The man was about his height, about his age, a quick scan appraised his clothes, good, well dressed. He was Italian. Joey didn’t know whether to smile or explode. He chose the former.
Joey: Who are you? What are you doing?
Man: What the fuck you think I’m doin’? If you ain’t buying then keep moving punk.
Joey: Your name.
Joey took a step toward him; the man brushed his jacked aside and revealed a pistol tucked into his belt.
Man: That’s my name. Now…fuck off.
Joey bit his lip. This guy was pushing on HIS corner, in front of HIS club. This is how the families see him now? Joseph Malignaggi, couldn’t protect himself, couldn’t protect his family, couldn’t protect his son, now he can’t even hold his own club. Joey stepped toward him once more.
Man: Listen mothafucka don’t make me blast you, don’t-
Joey: Do you know who I am?
Man: A dead man.
Joey: That is no way to talk to me.
The man went to draw his weapon and in one sudden movement was thrown to the floor, Joey wrenched his arm free of his body and stomped a foot clean across the forearm snapping it instantly. The man screamed in pain as Joey fished in the writhing man’s pockets, pulling out a wallet and then removing the pistol. He flipped the wallet open, grabbing the couple of hundred collected and stuffed it into his hoodie. He read the driver’s license.
Joey: John Coletti.
The man writhed some more, still moaning in agony.
John: You’re going to pay for this; you have no idea who you’re fucking with.
Joey: First point, never go into the field with any identification on your person. Second point, never be so conspicuous; Gucci on a corner? Really John? Come on John. Keep up John.
John: Fuck you.
Joey: Fuck me. Indeed fuck me. Third point…
He pulled his hood down and let his hair flop onto his shoulders, for the first time in the cool twilight sky the moonlight began to sneak through the clouds and bathe the pair in its radiance. Joey pointed the pistol toward John who even with the broken arm seemed to understand the gravity of his situation.
Joey: You know that one person in life that you just wish you shouldn’t have fucked with? That’s me.
Joey flicked the safety off and with one squeeze of his index finger sent John Coletti into oblivion. The shot rang just as loud as the thunder earlier. It didn’t ring hollow, it rang full, it rang passion, and it rang power. Just like that time it felt calm, it felt comforting to Joey. He looked down at the lifeless body of John Coletti, he had to get some men out to clean this immediately. He took a step backward and looked at the exterior of La Societa and then out toward the vast sprawling concrete jungle that lay before him.
Joey: Thanks Coletti. Let the bells ring, let the world know. This is MY corner. This is MY club. This is MY street…this is MY city.
The moon shone clear and bright now. An orb of hope and clarity in the sky. He was no Sentinel, no matter what Dune said. He was ruthless, heartless, power hungry and he was every bit a killer. This was how he had lived, this was how he had thrived. This week would mark the first step of his reclamation project.
First New York.
A storm was coming. The dark clouds swirled over the rooftop garden of La Societa, what was once a beautiful floral display had been reduced into a sad droopy mass of mulch through the winter frost of the New York nights. Stood looking over his kingdom once more was the Lord of all he surveyed. It had been weeks, nay, months since he had even so much as stepped through the door of his once thriving social club. Glancing around his garden it made his chest tighten and stomach knot with a hollow sadness. It was as if the club itself had imbibed the mental state of its owner, the bloom and happiness had given way to the cold reality of death.
Flash watched as the city lived out its life beneath him, he watched as the little dots in the hunks of metal sped past. Each of those hunks of metal contained its own story, contained its own set of hardships, its losses and its victories, its happiness and its success. He reached a hand down as if to touch a car that had pulled up at a red light. He wondered what tale was inside that one. Maybe a young couple driving somewhere quiet to fuck away from prying parental eyes, maybe a man on his way home from a hard day’s work making sure to stop off at the liquor store on the way, maybe a former WCF World Champion slowly trying to rebuild himself. He closed his eyes as he pictured the last one and felt a smile cross his lips, then the heavens opened.
A crack of thunder so powerful it felt like the sky itself was ripping asunder bellowed across the sky, Joey opened his eyes at the exact moment a fork of lighting lit the sky up like a thousand ‘Happy New Year’ firework displays. The New York skyline was alight with electricity; Joey held his arms out and looked skyward as the droplets began to pound down upon him. Within a matter of seconds Joey was soaked through to the skin, but to him in this moment it didn’t matter at all. This was beautiful. The cool, hard droplets of rain were refreshing, were revitalising. He held his arms out and embraced the storm as another thunderclap rang out; he stood like the statue of Christ above Rio de Janeiro looking down as his cities protector, as his cities deity. His godhood was broken by a voice from behind him.
Voice: I hate the rain.
Flash turned round, instinctively on guard at the sound of the voice. Stood before him in a large hooded cloak was his former nemesis, the man with whom he had spent the best part of a year going to war with. They had traded injuries, wins, losses, casualties, sadness and heartbreak. Now under the tempest of the early Spring sky they stood as allies. Dune pulled the hood further over his head and approached Joey.
Dune: It’s not a pleasant sensation.
Joey: I disagree.
The two men leant over the balcony next to each other.
Dune: You would.
Another crack of lighting spread across the sky before being chased by the thunder. Joey and Dune shared a glance.
Joey: How did we get here?
Dune: I don’t know about you but I used the elevator.
The big man with the mechanical mandible suppressed a chuckle.
Dune: But, yeah. I get you. It’s almost surreal. My body still has the desire to hurt you, my bones still feel the pain, my muscles still have the memory of everything we did.
Joey: Good.
Dune: Good?
Joey: I thought I was weird for having the same feelings.
Dune: No. You don’t erase what happened between us. Joey I’m so-
Joey: Don’t speak. I know.
Joey rests his hand on Dune’s shoulder and the two lock eyes.
Joey: I’ve run through this moment about two hundred times in my mind. What I will say to you, how you’ll react, what you’ll say to me and how I’ll react. The things that happened…Pinky, Chief…
Dune: Christian.
Joey winced at the name.
Joey: Christian. This shit was-
Dune: Taken care of. The Jackal is gone.
Dune didn’t finish his thought path that would have added the words ‘for now’ at the end of that sentence.
Dune: We were pawns.
Joey winced again.
Dune: You are a proud man, it is hard to admit. You conquered it Joey. You got revenge for Christian, for Pinky, for everyone.
Joey: WE got revenge.
The two men faced each other.
Joey: For all the hatred and venom, for all the wars outside the ring when we stood across from each other and first exchanged blows it was then I realised it was true. You know how like you hear stories about great samurai and shit who when they crossed swords with another skilled opponent that you show your heart and soul, your warrior spirit, to one another? Bullshit right. But when I fought you, when I felt a knee rip up my insides, when I felt my fists chisel away at your ribcage…when we were carted off to the hospital almost side by side it wasn’t anger I felt, it wasn’t hatred, even through everything we had done to each other. It was-
Dune: Serenity.
Joey snapped his fingers.
Joey: Serenity. You are the best wrestler I have ever fought, unquestionably. You are the only one to ever push me to my limits. You-
Dune: What is this, suck Dune’s dick day? What’s gotten into you? HELLO IS THE REAL JOEY HERE? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HIM?!
Joey: Look you fucking bitch I was trying to be nice.
Dune: That’s more like it.
Joey: Look, what I’m trying to tell you is out of the people I’ve faced since I’ve been here there are only two who have ever managed to drag that final ten percent of Joey Flash out of me. One is you, the other is John. Bullshit right? To think I’d someday be sharing a ring as team mates with you both, it’s mindboggling. The things that have happened between Joey Flash and The Sentinels and here I am going to be standing next to you on Slam and we’ll be defending the Trios Titles together. Surreal doesn’t even fucking cover it.
Know this much Dune, I am not a Sentinel. I never will be. I will never stand under that banner and be talked of as a hero, as a protector. Your ideals?
"We won’t be cast aside. There are powerhouses in this company that are going to engage in an all-out war and we won’t play the part of the rubble their destruction leaves behind...”
I AM that powerhouse.
...As Sentinels we will stand when they demand us to fall and we will sing when they demand silence"
I AM that silence.
I will never be a Sentinel…but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let us lose this match. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let us lose any match. I am going to give my all in this match. I am going to give my everything. For everything I have done to the pair of you, for everything that led us to this point…I am going to give you both that last ten percent.
The two men stood in rainy silence for a moment, the cacophony of the downpour their soundtrack. Dune turned and brushed past Flash, pulling his hood further over his head and pressing the button on the elevator. After a few moments the door opened and Dune turned to face Flash once more.
Dune: You’re wrong. Remember, when fighting you I found out more about you in those two bouts than anyone could ever need. Want to know what I found out? That last ten percent you’re talking about? I think you’re kidding yourself. That’s just a drop in the ocean of the potential you have. Seeing you at full flight and being able to do absolutely nothing about it, it was short, but it was there. You make me angry because you don’t even understand the power you have.
Joey: Is it Joey Flash dick sucking time now? HELLO? WHERE IS THE REAL DU-
Dune: Secondly…
Dune stepped inside the elevator and pushed the button for the ground floor.
Dune: …you’re more of a Sentinel than you know.
Laugh at Mr Sharks
He toweled his wild black hair down as he entered his rooftop office. The rain was still pounding away at the roof; it felt like the horsemen of the apocalypse were galloping across the sky in his honour. He pulled his sodden hoodie over his head and deposited it on the floor, following it were his jogging pants and sneakers, the set of clothing was made complete by his socks and underpants. Flash stretched as he looked out across his garden once more before placing his wet clothing on the radiator behind his desk. He would have to wait at least an hour or two before he had anything arid enough to wear on the way back to the house. He might as well wait out the storm.
He opened the laptop that he kept on his desk and fired it up. Better time than any he thought. He adjusted the webcam to film only his upper torso. He remembered the summer days of perpetual nakedness in the WCF Tinychat room and wistfully brushed his hair behind his ears. A *ping* from the speakers rang out and an email popped up.
From: QueenOfBlades@BK.com
To: J.Malignaggi@LaSocieta.com
Subject: Sea you Sunday <o/
To: J.Malignaggi@LaSocieta.com
Subject: Sea you Sunday <o/
Hiya J <3
So sorry for what we had to do to you at Fifteen, you know Jared was so sad we couldn’t spend more time with you. Maybe I’ll invite you over for dinner someday. *_*
Anyway, isn’t it amazing that I get to be ringside to watch you and Six God lock up, I think I’m getting a hot flush just writing this LOL D:
See you Sunday, I’ll adore peeling your belt off of you darling. Buckle. By. Buckle.
Love, Your Queen.
Xoxoxo
(PS, LOOK AT ATTACHMENT. IT’S MY FACEBOOK PROFILE PICTURE NOW!)
So sorry for what we had to do to you at Fifteen, you know Jared was so sad we couldn’t spend more time with you. Maybe I’ll invite you over for dinner someday. *_*
Anyway, isn’t it amazing that I get to be ringside to watch you and Six God lock up, I think I’m getting a hot flush just writing this LOL D:
See you Sunday, I’ll adore peeling your belt off of you darling. Buckle. By. Buckle.
Love, Your Queen.
Xoxoxo
(PS, LOOK AT ATTACHMENT. IT’S MY FACEBOOK PROFILE PICTURE NOW!)
Joey clicked the attachment, the picture showed a bloody and battered Joey Flash laying on the canvas at Fifteen, stood over him was Jared Holmes and Thursday Kerrigan, a grinning Thursday looking into the camera and flashing a ‘peace’ sign for the selfie.
He sent a reply.
From: J. Malignaggi@LaSocieta.com
To: QueenofBlades@BK.com
Subject: Re: Sea you Sunday <o/
To: QueenofBlades@BK.com
Subject: Re: Sea you Sunday <o/
dam this shit was “weird” as hell lmfao
see pic cuntbag
see pic cuntbag
He stood up for a moment and angled the webcam south, snapping a picture of his flaccid Sicilian sausage, making sure to flash a ‘peace’ sign next to it.
Joey: Fuck my life.
He brushed his hair back again and angled the camera back toward his face, opening his video recording software and pressed that big ol’ record button. He gives a wave, then begins his favourite pastime: ethering #BeachKrew.
Joey: Hey what’s up? Hello! Well this is an interesting one isn’t it guys? I wasn’t on Slam last Sunday guys, wanna know why? Because I got attacked by #BeachKrew, amazing isn’t it? Those little rapscallions, they sure showed the federation that they mean business at Fifteen. They attacked poor little Joey Flash who was celebrating his win, what scoundrels. Savages, horrible people, what will they do next? They really are some geniuses I admit, I wonder what goes on in big bad Six God’s mind when he spent months of machinations ruminating on his return. *ding* on goes light bulb.
‘UHHHH WE ATTACK THE BIGGEST NAME IN THE FEDERATION!!!!!!!!!!!!’
That’s some Pantheon-esque work there. Congratulations. That college education done paid off right there! I’m staggered. But wait, who is with the great Six God? It’s lower card jobber Andre Aquarius and Flashjobber John Gable who we now HAVE to be convinced have gone through some kind of power up because they’re wearing like spooky masks and shit. I’m intimidated.
These two guys look like they’ve just hopped out of an episode of Goosebumps and jumped in the ring. Give…me…a…fucking…break.
So here comes the return of Mr Cheap Shot, Mr Cheap Heat, Mr Never won an important major match in his whole career. Los Tiburones has arrived folks, all #BeachKrew’s worries are gone, the LEADER is back. Let’s see how inspirational the return of Mr Sharks is?
Kyle Kemp…oh he got the win. What amazing leadership, the man truly knows the business.
Dustin Beaver…oh well, tough luck, we lost a title but have lots of chances coming!
Johnny Rabid…lost to Logan. I don’t need to go any further. Great leadership sport, you did a great job rallying the troops to get bodied by washed up nobodies, well your World Champion best friend is fighting Jayson Price another washed up nobody, surely he cant…
Wade Moor…oh-uh..ah. He got dominated and absolutely fuckin whitewashed.
Well done Jared you fucking goof, Rome wasn’t built in a day but you went and destroyed it in a single night. Welcome to the trust fund baby blues, with this guy in charge what can possibly go wrong? How these guys even put up with listening to this faggot is absolutely beyond me. Almost every single member of the faction is a) better than him and b) more accomplished him. Any leader would hop in and nurture the success, instead he hops in and destroys it, why? Simple: The success didn’t make him look good, didn’t put him over. #BeachKrew is HIS baby, HIS brainchild; this is meant to be HIS show. How dare anyone else in the group take HIS spot? You are not supposed to succeed, you are supposed to be the pieces around him that make him succeed, this is supposed to be the Jared Holmes proves he is one of the best in the federation show, just take your orders, support him in his goals and-
Protect the patch
Always stay true to the MC
Brothers fore/#ver.
#HelpJaredGoOverNoMatterWhat
#JaredBatesThomasHolmes
…damn what’s this…
Joey smiles.
Joey: I’m getting that Dark Knight Feeling.
He holds a finger up to the camera.
Joey: We pause. Jared. You know that one guy you fuck with that you realise quickly you should NOT have fucked with? No. Of course you don’t. Well for you, this is that one guy. Sheltered bitch, you’ve spent a life doing shots, I’ve spent my life taking shots, you’ve spent a life at frat houses, I’ve spent a life at trap houses, you’ve spent a life watching Raw, Rock, Chyna and Smackdown, I’ve spent a life dealing with the raw rock, china and pushing the smack out. My body count is higher than your mongoloid slut mother the night she made the decision not to swallow you. What I’m saying is this, you’re stepping into The Matrix, one call is all it takes and you’ll disappear.
Flash grins.
Joey: But, why so serious? Fuck boy, ya butt moist. Wipe the perspiration up Jared, relax. It’s not going to come to that. On Sunday it’s pretty simple, I’m going to beat the shit out of you, then boot it back in you. You will lay there like a subservient faggot as I smash the deluded sense of self-entitlement out of you. We exist in two different worlds both in ring and out, I could take an axe to your family tree and wipe you completely off the map or I could just embarrass you in the ring and send you scampering back to your place in the midcard losing to Teo Del Sol and getting eliminated from War by Spencer Adams.
Enough of Jared I think-
N-n-n-n-neverending shoot.
Wait your turn Jared, sorry, just like every gangbang in your life you’re going to hit last. You can enjoy the spunky, torn up, crying for daddy remnants of the ethered #BeachKrew cunt.
John Gable is back guys!
Whilst I was getting my head caved in by your attack, nearing unconsciousness, my brain bleeding, my face busted up and my happy moment ruined by #BeachKrew, I even then had only one thought in mind. There was only one thing I noticed, John Gable is back. As I was about to be rushed to hospital and made to take a week away from competition, as I would have to spend time away from my wife, I still had only one reaction.
What was your last act as a member of the Wrestling Championship Federation again? Lemme try to remember this shit. I think I forgot. Oh yeah.
Joey Flash defeats John Gable via pinfall.
Welcome back John, you spent all this time away contemplating your return and your revenge on yours truly. Your whole mindset is around finally defeating the greatest TV Champion of all time (it’s me by the way, you fucking suck) and righting the wrongs of our last clash. Well surprise surprise, yet another guy who is only going dig themselves deeper and deeper in a bad count. You’re finna be 0-2 by the time Sunday is finished.
Pussy ass bitch, you flip flop about fighting more than Jared’s cock flip flops about his disgusting childlike sket of a ‘woman’, that faggot stay fucking her with his eyes closed and thinking of the 6/10 that talked to him in a bar wondering what it’s like to fuck her instead. You’re not a born fighter Gable, you are a fake. You are a fucking golem. You have been given all the tools to do the job, no, you’ve been given MORE than enough tools but what can you do with it? Only what you’ve been taught. There is no instinct inside. I’d be Vlad Guerrero and I’m swinging at anything and everything, you? It could be first and second, 3-0, no outs and you STILL wouldn’t swing. This has shown out in every possible facet of our careers here. In one year I’ve eclipsed you so thoroughly you are to be forever behind me, it’s like you’re an ant walking in the shadow of Gaia.
I’ve influenced everyone who had come after, from David Sanchez to your own fuckboy Jared. They saw the blueprint I used to take over; these people take every little bit of my style and try to turn into success but look how it goes, these clones still ain’t doing shit yet what’s this? Joey Flash is one week away from being World Champion again. I guess some things never change.
You, the great actor to wrestler, what have you done? Who have you inspired? Yep. Kit fucking Harington.
Well done Gable, clap it up you magnificent bastard. Let’s get this in the clear; you are the worst ‘good wrestler’ in the federation. You’ve got an incredible win loss record (by usual standards, certainly by the 5-7 or whatever Jared’s standards bahaha) that makes people think ‘Wow this Gable guy is pretty amazing’ he’s got to be something special. Yet, why can this guy with the amazing record, with all the hype, with all the recognition from the fans just not manage to take the next step? I’ve shared a ring with you and I can tell you why. You are simply not good enough.
Fucking Golem. Your punches are weak, your heart is weak. You brittle bitch, you can overcome 90% of the roster with your mechanized lumbering generic shit but you absolutely cannot step to the likes of Joey Flash. Not yesterday, not today, not any day. It takes transcendence to even make me TRY to beat you. SPOILER ALERT: I’m not going to try with you Gable. You are pure unadulterated filler dogshit. Little bit of advice for you champ, if after three or four years of not progressing beyond the Television Title…it’s not going to happen. Let me remind you, we have legitimately had:
Jay LOLmega
Wade Moor
Jayson Price
Hold the World Championship within the last year, and yet the name John Gable still isn’t there. Good…fucking…god. Why are you even back at this point? You think by riding the coat tails of a group you have no prior association with, making a thin connection through a film no fucker even watched (except me, *Ebert Mode Activated* it fuccin sucked lmfao) but no, lil old Jared’s producer pop helped with your film so of course you’re going to get on both knees take his member deep. That makes perfect sense…if you’re a fucking lunatic.
#BeachKrew, the place where failures reside.
Beaver, failure as a musician.
Rabid, failure as a ‘leader’
Wade, failure as a World Champion.
Gable, failure as an actor.
Kemp, failure as a ball player.
Jared, failure at trying to be a credible threat in the upper midcard scene.
Oddly, you’re also failures as wrestlers, go fucking figure. You are the Raggydolls of the WCF.
John Gable, the world’s smallest violin is playing your song now. The song, you might know it well is the theme of your spot of ‘worthless jobber addition that will add nothing to the stable and promote nothing but mediocrity, doesn’t at all belong in the group and it’s a push at best whether half the members were even considered when Jared brought your wack ass into the fold’.
Ooooh watch me whip
Oooh watch me Nae Nae
Go take that Nae Nae’ing faggot Oblivion and fuck off together to JobberHell.
You take this shit so seriously Gable, you’re chasing me on some Gemini Battle shit. It’s funny that after everything I’m the reason you stepped back in the ring and once I’m through with you on Sunday I’m going to be the reason you fuck off again.
*ping* Joey’s email lit up again.
From: QueenOfBlades@BK.com
To: J.Malignaggi@LaSocieta.com
Subject: Re:Re: Sea you Sunday <o/
To: J.Malignaggi@LaSocieta.com
Subject: Re:Re: Sea you Sunday <o/
Delightful! You do care < 33333
Joey couldn’t help but hit that bitch with the “: |” face straight back.
Joey: Out of absolutely nowhere I’ve got the urge for a roasting session.
Hello Andre Aquarius! We haven’t met before. I am your idol, I can already taste the slob on my nuts but please there is no need for such a personal introduction. My introduction is thus:
I had the most lucrative, accolade laden stunning debut year in WCF’s history and already nearly a lock for the Hall of Fame. You are 1-5 or some shit.
What in the holy fuck is this? Where did they find you? How are you in this match? Serious question, who the fuck is this guy? To try find out about this guy I Googled Andre Aquarius, the results said ‘Why?’ You are a drunken, generic, over sexed, bland racial stereotype. You are one of the statistically worst ‘serious’ wrestlers in the entire company, you’re a midget with no real combat experience and yet we are supposed to be taking you credible as a serious threat? This shit is like sickle cell my African-American friend, I just don’t get it.
You appeal to the lowest common denominator; you are D’Angelo if he took things seriously. You are Jared Holmes in blackface; you perpetuate everything stereotypically negative about African-Americans in society today. It makes me sad that someone like yourself can get such promotion that…
Ah fuck I just can’t do it. I hope you get that Trayvon treatment ya faggot. Let me give you some skittles, maybe you can run into Dag or Bates on a dark night with ya hood pulled up and become another martyr to black society. Yay, go Andre. He was such a sweet guy; he did well in school and was loved by everyone!
Oh cheap heat, how I love it. It’s so cute seeing my clones try and copy me, they say imitation is the biggest form of flattery but seeing it done in such a bastardised, uncreative way it’s the biggest insult possible.
***INCOMING VIA JARED HOLMES AND ANDRE AQUARIUS PROMOS: NURSE WE NEED THOSE DEAD BABY JOKES, STAT!***
I guess I have to show you jobbers once more how it’s supposed to be done.
With a smirk, a smile and shake of his head Joey continues ending #PrinceLightSkin’s budding career.
Joey: Fuck being a martyr, you’re probably the one guy whose death Al Sharpton would actually celebrate. Rather than riots, there would be parties in every street in every town. Oh cheap heat. I love it. Andre, since you’ve returned you’re rocking this tough guy swag like you’re invincible, with a swag that says ‘I can’t bleed’ but you have a face that says ‘I can’t read.’ It’s like when God created you he threw darts blindly to create your personality and hit the bullseye on every personality flaw a person could fuckin have. You fuckin swaggot.
You are probably the first black guy to think he is a cast member on ‘Jersey Shore’, I mean shit you’re the closest thing I’ve ever met - and that’s coming from a fucking Italian. I don’t know how out of all #BeachKrew you are the only one like this. The rest of you can be pretty erudite Machiavellian schemers but this fuckin guy? You are a ‘Tapout’ shirt away from being a walking Jaegarbomb.
Your catchphrase is legitimately: #LightSkinIsTheRightSkin
The last famous black guy who thought that ended up owning a monkey, a ranch named after Peter Pan and molesting some children.
You think that this rebranding is somehow going to put you at the forefront of people’s minds? That simply by strapping a mask on your face and acting like you were a badass all along is going to suddenly make people forget the five months of mediocrity that came before? Well shit, Jared is trying to do it too! Nope, not forgotten that guy’s mediocrity either. Must be the craze for you #BeachKrew kids. Bitch, no one has forgotten about how absolutely terrible you are Andre, there is absolutely nothing you can do from here on that will make you a credible threat on any scene. Except maybe the fresh coast gay scene. You’re suddenly more aggressive and tough, I am fucking quaking. Bitch you’re about as gangster as PaRappa the Rapper.
It boils down to one simple thing for you. In this match you are facing Occulo, one of the most talented men on the whole roster (psst, he’s better than you), you are facing Dune, DUNE ANDRE, do you even understand what this means? The most dominant World Champion of recent memory. (psst hey wake up fuckboy, guess what? He’s better than you too!) If that’s not enough it’s time for the M-M-M-M-MONSTERKILL, you’re facing Joey Flash the greatest wrestler in the World today. There is no scenario where you win this match Andre, there is no scenario where you are even remotely competitive. You are the worst member of your team, comprehensively so, and that’s saying something given the dreck that is being served up alongside you.
So you pathetic hipster Blaxploitation reject, I’m doing this for all the African-Americans who get angry every time your bucket hat wearing, smug, smarmy, ignorant, stereotypical negative representation self steps through the ropes. I’m going to pick you apart so easily and so methodically, I will batter you fucking senseless and when I’m done with you they will love me in the hood like it’s the first and fuckin fifteenth.
Let me just make something clear before I move on, I am absolutely, positively NOT racist. It hurts me anyone would think that. Please. I own at least three DVD's starring Morgan Freeman. Now is the part where we end the roast and we get to bodying something.
He switches his posture in the chair and reclines backward with a smile.
Joey: That cunt is sloppy and torn up Jared. Your turn! I wonder what goes on in your mind when you think this shit up. I can just picture you phoning your little college buddies and being all like
‘Yo guys be round at mine at half six it’s fucking life changing!’
They turn up and you sit them down.
‘Right guys listen to this song…
*POPS ON IMMORTAL TECHNIQUE – DANCE WITH THE DEVIL*
‘…but just listen to the end oh my god. This is so #BeachKrew’
They turn up and you sit them down.
‘Right guys listen to this song…
*POPS ON IMMORTAL TECHNIQUE – DANCE WITH THE DEVIL*
‘…but just listen to the end oh my god. This is so #BeachKrew’
I found it mindboggling that you decided to get at Dag Riddik the other week…MOTHERFUCKER LOOK IN THE MIRROR. Yes Jared, you are a spotty, ugly, virginal pseudo-intellectual who tries to push his (terrible) ideas, ideals, tastes in music/art/culture on every fucker else. No, people can’t have opinions while this guy is around. P.S. Tool are better than *insert generic vaporwave artist* in every single facet.
L M F A O
I couldn’t believe when I watched that shit the other week. Shooting at your fucking self without even knowing it, damn you fucking suck. But shit, it’s successful right? Maybe I’ll do it to next opponent a narcissistic, over-emotional, over-compensating idiot who gets by on inflammatory remarks damn I fuckin ethered Jewy Flesh…oh wait.
Joey smiles.
Joey: That’s you too! Wow. It really does work! Well except the emotion part, you’re as one dimensional as it comes. The only thing that falls flatter than your personality is your fucking wrestling career. You prop yourself on a pedestal like you belong in the upper echelon of the federation yet what have you done?
Have you won a meaningful match?
Have you won a meaningful title?
No, you eliminated Six people in a match I’d have won without so much as blinking. Well done sport, gold star. This is how mediocre a career you have Holmes, you gave yourself a nickname from a performance in a match you FUCKING LOST.
That would be like if I suddenly changed my name to ‘Grime Lord’ Joey Flash.
You paint yourself like a great man, a great tactician versed in the human psyche, that you’re able to control, manipulate and dominate situations with so much as a wave of your hand. Yep Jared, we get it, you read The Art of War and The Prince in college. Good lord. You’re so rudimentary and basic it pains me watching you try to bumble around the federation trying to work your way into a dominant position. You’re the type of bitch to say some shit like ‘They are playing checkers where as I, the Six God have been playing…chess!!!!’ Calm your shit down. You think attacking me will get into my head and make me sloppy this week? Any week? You think you’re manipulating me to fall straight into your web where you will consume Joey Flash and take his spot as the dominant alpha male in the federation? You are child’s play to me. I’m already ten steps ahead of you…like you when you’re walking with your ugly eyesore of a girlfriend.
You are the weakest guy with the biggest undeserved rep I have ever seen in this federation, you are butterflies in a sun drenched field of flowers, you are baby bottom Charmin soft. You pose absolutely no threat to me, in any way. Outside of the ring? Please. You’re so soft that I could leave my wife for a night alone with you; you could make her pop a molly and shower with you. That’s the level of comfort I have around the likes of you Jared. I cannot take you seriously when the most famous thing a ‘Jared’ has ever done is eat sandwiches and masturbate over children.
Inside the ring though? This is where we separate ‘Six God’. This is where your coddling is going to get you absolutely well and truly snuffed the fuck out. You’re stepping into a realm you know nothing about against athletes so far above of your calibre it’s not even funny. You are a midcard card filler fighting against a bonafide killer. This is a fucking embarrassment on your end, no Jared, you aren’t going to get the upset win this week, no Jared you aren’t going to make a name off my back this week, no Jared you’re not going to establish any momentum heading into the Trilogy Cup because I will end it before it even begins. Side note, you’re not winning the Trilogy Cup. Jared dunno if you can count but that’s three matches in a row you need to win, I don’t think you’ve even fuckin managed two in a row your entire career.
What you want so badly to be your big coming out party, the time where those two guys Joey Flash and Dune learn that the might of the Six God is beyond even them is going to be nothing more than what happens every week. Joey Flash and Dune win…again. You want your big shot so bad right now; well I’m giving you it.
How does it feel? I bet little Jared’s soul is damn near leaving his body right now. He’s thanking the heavens that it’s not a singles match right now. This? Just tip of the iceberg hombre, this is me going light on you so I don’t destroy your spirits too bad. I could do with a laugh watching your delusional self-aggrandising psyche being shattered when you fall in like the Trilogy Cup semi-finals or some shit.
‘I WUZ ROBBED’
~LAUGH AT MR SHARKS~
This week though? I’m going to beat you and humiliate you so badly that you’ll probably end up deciding to throw the Trilogy Cup anyway, why would you want to step back into the ring at the end of it with the man who emasculated and bullied you the last time they were together? Well, shit, I guess it’s a trait all submissive controlled bitches share.
This match is fucking child’s play. This is me toying with a kill before I snap the neck. I fear that the past few months of myself and Dan fighting each other that people have started to forget a little bit about what the true top tier of the federation looks like. It’s not Jayson Price, it’s not Wade Moor, it’s not Jared Holmes. There are two men who dominate this federation with such consummate ease that it’s as if they exist in a complete other realm to everyone else. Congratulations #BeachKrew you get to enjoy being the first team to see what happens when Joey Flash and Dune step down to fight you bums…Occulo will also be there. People have success in this federation for one simple reason: we allow it. This time though? We’re hitting the kill switch on #BeachKrew. You don’t get success this week.
This match on paper might look like a classic, a match of the top talent in the federation. It’s not even close to that. This is no classic, this is Joey Flash leaving with three heads in a fucking basket. You might not have understood before, but you will know this Sunday why I am the most feared wrestler in the world, my record is not padded, my wins are not cheap. I am the dominant force in this business. Time for #BeachKrew to learn that lesson for good. I've dismantled every other team you've sent me, time to finally kill the snake this week. It's off with their heads.
You are a tune up fight, Price. You get to watch first hand this Sunday, and you will be as much of a spectator next week when I absolutely fucking wash you. Shine my title, prepare those handsome Joey Flash decals before you hand it to me. Thankya.
We're done here...incoming tag line...Bodybags on deck, lets get it.
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of
As he stepped out of the elevator into the ground floor of La Societa he found himself confronted with the cold reality of his life once more. The once bouncing club would be full of life no matter the night, if not the main dance floors at least the first floor with the four conference rooms would have bookings. Now he was lucky if he got one booking a week and the club’s downstairs only ran open on the weekends. This was in a microcosm what had happened to Joey Flash, upcoming mogul, the youngest Cosa Nostra capo in the tri-state area had become a relic at twenty six. He kept the money kicking upward so there was never any problem, the Allegri’s had helped with the hunt of Dune but were quick to withdraw their helping hand once things got too hot.
Is this what I have become? He approached the bar and picked a half drunken cocktail from it, with a sniff he discerned Gin and then took a sip. Then a gulp. It was quickly dispatched. He pulled his hood up and pushed the door open to be greeted by the sub-zero Brooklyn night. Before he could even take a step he heard a voice shouting from his left.
Voice: Hey motherfucker, this is my corner. You need to get the fuck out of here.
Joey turned immediately and saw himself five feet or so away from a man. The man was about his height, about his age, a quick scan appraised his clothes, good, well dressed. He was Italian. Joey didn’t know whether to smile or explode. He chose the former.
Joey: Who are you? What are you doing?
Man: What the fuck you think I’m doin’? If you ain’t buying then keep moving punk.
Joey: Your name.
Joey took a step toward him; the man brushed his jacked aside and revealed a pistol tucked into his belt.
Man: That’s my name. Now…fuck off.
Joey bit his lip. This guy was pushing on HIS corner, in front of HIS club. This is how the families see him now? Joseph Malignaggi, couldn’t protect himself, couldn’t protect his family, couldn’t protect his son, now he can’t even hold his own club. Joey stepped toward him once more.
Man: Listen mothafucka don’t make me blast you, don’t-
Joey: Do you know who I am?
Man: A dead man.
Joey: That is no way to talk to me.
The man went to draw his weapon and in one sudden movement was thrown to the floor, Joey wrenched his arm free of his body and stomped a foot clean across the forearm snapping it instantly. The man screamed in pain as Joey fished in the writhing man’s pockets, pulling out a wallet and then removing the pistol. He flipped the wallet open, grabbing the couple of hundred collected and stuffed it into his hoodie. He read the driver’s license.
Joey: John Coletti.
The man writhed some more, still moaning in agony.
John: You’re going to pay for this; you have no idea who you’re fucking with.
Joey: First point, never go into the field with any identification on your person. Second point, never be so conspicuous; Gucci on a corner? Really John? Come on John. Keep up John.
John: Fuck you.
Joey: Fuck me. Indeed fuck me. Third point…
He pulled his hood down and let his hair flop onto his shoulders, for the first time in the cool twilight sky the moonlight began to sneak through the clouds and bathe the pair in its radiance. Joey pointed the pistol toward John who even with the broken arm seemed to understand the gravity of his situation.
Joey: You know that one person in life that you just wish you shouldn’t have fucked with? That’s me.
Joey flicked the safety off and with one squeeze of his index finger sent John Coletti into oblivion. The shot rang just as loud as the thunder earlier. It didn’t ring hollow, it rang full, it rang passion, and it rang power. Just like that time it felt calm, it felt comforting to Joey. He looked down at the lifeless body of John Coletti, he had to get some men out to clean this immediately. He took a step backward and looked at the exterior of La Societa and then out toward the vast sprawling concrete jungle that lay before him.
Joey: Thanks Coletti. Let the bells ring, let the world know. This is MY corner. This is MY club. This is MY street…this is MY city.
The moon shone clear and bright now. An orb of hope and clarity in the sky. He was no Sentinel, no matter what Dune said. He was ruthless, heartless, power hungry and he was every bit a killer. This was how he had lived, this was how he had thrived. This week would mark the first step of his reclamation project.
First New York.
…Jayson Price…
Then the world.
Then the world.
