One Punch Man

[Joey Flash]

In the countless interviews the greatest champions have given over the past hundred years of professional sports we have tried to discern what makes a “champion”. Hard work? God given talent? What goes through the minds of these great men when asked about their paths to success?

“I hated every minute of training, but I said, ‘Don’t quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.” – Muhammad Ali

“I've missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.” – Michael Jordan

“It's not whether you get knocked down; it's whether you get up.” – Vince Lombardi

“You miss 100 percent of the shots you don’t take” – Wayne Gretzky

“It’s pretty easy; I’m just fuckin better than everybody.” – Joey Flash




Retrograde - 2/27/16

John Colletti was the man’s name. To Joey Flash he had been an upstart punk trying to muscle in on his business, hustling on his corner, spitting in the face of Joey’s reputation, to the rest of the Cosa Nostra in the North East, he was the son and heir to the most influential boss in New Jersey Vincent Colletti. Joey handed the keys to his Mercedes Benz to the valet as he began his walk through the cark park at The Four Seasons Hotel. Last week John Colletti was slain in what was being called a ‘gang related execution’ and a meeting between the big two families in the Tri-State area for the first time in half a year. The last of such happening after the ‘Red Wedding’ massacre of Joseph Malignaggi’s wedding to Alessandra Allegri. The Colletti’s of New Jersey and the Montolivo’s out of Connecticut. The other participant of the meeting is the one that made Joseph at first feel his heart jump from his chest, and second felt it sinking straight into the pit of his gut.

The Facchetti’s would be the representative of New York City. He had heard growing news lately of the growing resurgence of the once destroyed organisation that Joey himself had left a smouldering wreck. Their new boss had worked wonders in the past six months and nearly quadrupled the earning power, business coverage and manpower, whatever had happened had occurred while Joey had been laid up in a hospital bed and rehabbing his ailments. This was the first time the Facchetti boss was going to be seen in public. Was it a nephew, a friend of his old mentor Robert? This person was just as like to kill Joey on sight than let the meeting go off without a hitch. In a sick way, along with the tension and nervous Joey was excited. Whoever, whatever the Facchetti’s had in store…Joseph was going to try to bury the hatchet once and for all in this meeting. There had been enough bloodshed.

The meeting was being overseen by the capo di tutti from the homeland, Joseph’s father in law, Bernardo Allegri. Joseph had been invited as a ‘guest’ given first his Capo status within the Allegri family and of the fact the murder had been committed on the corner outside his nightclub La Societa. This was like the prey walking voluntarily into the lion’s den, maybe there was some suspicion on him after all. He took a deep breath as the elevator rose toward the conference room they had booked for the night. Joey looked himself over in the elevator mirror; his coarse black hair was tied up in a man-bun, the straggles of hair falling just short of his suit collar. He had opted for all black tonight with only a red tie to offset the funeral attire. This was going to be an interesting meeting, he couldn’t help but give himself a grin, this is going to be a meeting about finding John’s killer…when he is going to be right next to them all along.

As the elevator doors opened he was greeted immediately by two suited and booted goons who looked him up and down.

Goon One: Mr Malignaggi, you’re the last to arrive.

Goon Two: It’s not wise to keep Mr Colletti waiting, he is angry enough as it is.

Joey gave a curt nod.

Joey: Indeed, lead on gentlemen.

They took him to a set of wooden double doors and with a knock on the door they pushed the left hand door open.

Goon One: Have fun.

Joey brushed past him and stepped inside the conference room. Situated in the middle was one long oaken table, it looked as solid as the trunk of whatever tree, or from the size of it, trees, it was crafted from. The table seated four people already, at the extreme left sat Alessio Montolivo, a man in his mid-thirties with a swoosh of brown hair, thin stubble and a hook nose who was reclined backward holding his hands over his head in a show of boredom for the wait. To the extreme right sat Vincent Colletti, he looked every bit the doppleganger of the man Joey had killed last week, short hair, bulbous frog like eyes and every bit the ‘good life’ gut, this man’s face showed nothing but stoicism and focus. Each of the bosses had two associates stood behind them in the shadows of the faint atmospheric light of the conference room.

In the extreme middle sat the last two figures. The overpowering figure of Bernardo Allegri radiated an aura of control and presence, his warm smile and happy eyes had transformed into a flat line of non-committal and cold pools of ice blue. He didn’t even so much as meet Joey’s glance as he entered. Sat next to Bernardo was the sight that made Joey audibly gasp out loud. The boss of the uprising Facchetti’s exuded a presence almost double that of the man next to them, in a room full of criminals, thieves and killers this is the only person who made Joey’s blood run cold. They shared the same eyes as Bernardo; the eyes that were usually bright and happy were as cold as the deepest ocean floor right now, the usually heart melting smile spread across their face like that of a great white.

Naturally, Joey thought to himself, all of the scenarios he had run through and this is the only one he hadn’t expected. Joseph had fallen asleep many nights as a youth rising up the ranks alongside Robert one day dreaming that a Malignaggi would be sat at the head of the table as boss of the Facchetti family, King of all New York. Well, congratulations Joey, dream come true.

Alessandra Malignaggi looked every bit the Queen. Her flowing raven hair was crimped and curled at the ends and fell in place on either side of her chest, Joey’s eyes devoured her body as the tight black dress accentuated every single curve, a golden shawl sat across her shoulders as his eyes traced back upward and locked with hers. They held the look for what felt like an eternity until Bernardo’s voice finally broke them apart.

Bernardo: Welcome Mr Malignaggi.

Joey approached the table and reached his hand across to take Bernardo’s as he leant forward to kiss it. Releasing the hand he addressed Bernardo.

Joey: Good evening Mr Allegri.

He turned to Alessio and gave a nod of the head.

Joey: Mr Montolivo.

Alessio gave a dismissive wave.

Alessio: Can we get this done?

Quite. Joey turned to Vincent who was staring a hole completely through him.

Vincent: Was it you?

Joey was taken aback.

Joey: I beg your pa-

Vincent Colletti rose to his feet and pointed an accusatory finger in Joey’s direction.

Vincent: You heard good and well, was it you? Did you kill my son?

Alessio Montolivo chuckled to himself.

Alessio: Right off the bat huh Vinny?

Vincent shot him a look of disgust.

Vincent: Shut it. Malignaggi, look at me…look at me, punk.

Vincent took a step toward Joey before a voice stop him in his tracks.

Alessandra: Not another step Vincent.

He turned toward Alessandra.

Vincent: What do you-

Alessandra: You are to sit down, and you are to address him cordially.

Vincent: This-

Bernardo: This is not a trial. This is a…gathering of friends. Please, take a seat.

Vincent: A gathering of friends huh? Funny, because from where I’m sitting…

He sat back down and pointed at Joey, Alessandra and Bernardo in turn.

Vincent: This seems more like a family gathering.

Bernardo: We all came here today to give our condolences for your loss Vincent, and, more importantly to discuss what we are going to do about. Anyone who hurts anyone else in this room by proxy hurts me as well. I do not take kindly to being hurt Vincent, so we are going to do everything in our…considerable power to exact the revenge you seek.

Vincent seemed to relax as his posture dropped from hostility to secure in a matter of seconds.

Vincent: Right.

Bernardo: What do we know? Alessandra?

She shifted her elegant posture and turned to Vincent.

Alessandra: Your son-

Vincent: John.

Alessandra: Sorry, John. Was found with his arm broken and single gunshot wound to the head.

Vincent gave a nod.

Vincent: They didn’t even give him a chance.

Didn’t give him a chance? Joey thought, yeah so the scuffle where I snapped his arm and gave him chance to get the fuck away from my club wasn’t a ‘chance’.

Vincent: They slaughtered him like an animal. For what reason? They took only his wallet.

His wallet? Joey felt his heart sink. Oh fuck. Joey casually brushed his hand across the pocket of his suit jacket to find the biggest and stupidest mistake he had made for some time. He was wearing the same jacket from that night. The wallet was still resting safely and happily, ID and all in his pocket. Fuck.

Alessio: So, a robbery then? Case closed, hey Joe, your club has CCTV outside right? We just go back and have a look see of the people around that night, we put some feet to the ground to check up on cocksuckers and we get it done, boom.

There would have been CCTV, Joey had even watched the moment of the killing on the monitor in his office after the fact, there was nothing criminally incriminating as it happened well beyond the range of the entrance camera but in the kangaroo court here? Anything was admissible. He hadn’t deleted it, his rationale being that the police would find the missing film a trillion times more suspicious than the proprietor entering and exiting the building. The police hadn’t come to check and now he wished more than anything to have hit that delete button.

Vincent snapped his fingers and nodded.

Vincent: Good, good. I’m going to flay the motherfucker, I don’t care, I’m going to take his skin off strip by strip and then cauterise his pain with a slow salt massage.

Bernardo: We also believe the murder weapon was his own pistol, the bullet is the same calibre that John used as his main firearm.

Vincent: But how did they get it off him? I still don’t understand, he was no small man, he could handle himself.

Alessio: Simple, he was attacked by someone with extensive combat experience.

Alessio shot a smile at Joey.

Alessio: Say Joey, you’re an expert in this sort of stuff aren’t you? How about we get your expert opinion? How would you disarm a man and take his gun from him?

Joey paused for a moment, but before he could respond Alessio had begun again.

Alessio: Oh-

He slaps his hand on his head.

Alessio: That reminds me, isn’t one of your signature moves an arm bar? Tell me Joe, would that be able to break a man’s arm? Just in your expert opinion of course.

Joey felt his stomach sink. So, it was a trial after all.

Alessio: I gotta say Joe. You’re looking awfully warm? Feeling okay? Do you need to take a little break?

The grinning Alessio Montolivo leant forward.

Alessio: You don’t mind we check the CCTV do you? Hey Joe, do you?

Flash shook his head.

Alessio: Good! Hey did you hear that Vince? We might find the man who killed your son before the night is out. I think it’s time for a drink to celebrate!

Bernardo: Indeed, gentlemen, remain in your seats.

He asked Alessandra if she wanted a drink and she gave a shake of her head before Bernardo reached a hand across the table to pick the glass decanter of light brown fluid and spun four glasses the right way up before beginning the slow pour. He passed one to Alessio, then to Vincent.

Bernardo: How about it Joseph? Brandy?

Joey gave a nod. Yet another night, yet another potential last drink, might as well make it worthwhile. He scanned Bernardo, Alessio and Vincenzo to see them sipping their first taste of the drink before he once more locked eyes with Alessandra. She was studying him intently. She gave nothing away, let no emotional expression across that beautiful face. Then, her rouge lips silently mouthed two words:

‘Did you?’

He took a sip of his brandy. He hadn’t told her, as much as she was a part of him, a part of this, he still stupidly held to one simple idea. ‘I want you to protect you from this’. Well isn’t that funny, now it’s the other way round, and the one who needed the protecting was him, yet again.

He nodded an affirmative. Alessandra didn’t as much as blink, but simply began adjusting her hair back to its pristine placement across her chest.

Bernardo: Right gentlemen. It’s settled. We will reconvene at La Societa in approximately one hour, agreed?

Vincent: Indeed.

Alessio: Of course.

Alessandra gave a nod.

Bernardo walked around the table and passed Joey, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Bernardo: Don’t worry son, it’s just formalities, you understand.

He turned to address the room.

Bernardo: I have something to take care of. Ciao for now gentlemen.

With that, the man with all the power in the room left. Sat down at the table, Vincent Colletti and Alessio Montolivo were enjoying their drink and Alessandra was sitting pensively in between them, the two men flanking each of Colletti and Montolivo remained steadfast as well. The door slammed shut to signify the exit of the King. However the *click* that followed signified something entirely different.

Joey span to see the two goons from earlier stood directly behind him barring the doorway.

Alessandra: What is the meaning of this?

The voice rang out with power and authority, but this time no one was listening.

Vincent: Please, we only placated you out of respect for your father. Why you’re even here I still don’t fucking understand? What is Bernardo thinking, breaking years of tradition by letting a…a woman at this table. Let alone to be running the Facchetti family. Robert would be turning in his grave. It’s a disgrace. So do us a favour and just shut up and listen while the men talk you spoiled bitch.

Six…eight men, all likely armed, all laughing at that remark. It didn’t matter anymore, they could disparage him, belittle him, they could flay him alive and pour salt in his wounds. Good, maybe he deserved it. That was a cross Joey could bare every day of his life. One thing they would never do, one thing Joey would never forgive, they insulted his wife.



Mind of a Champion - 2/25/16



It had been nearly a year since Joey’s last interview. The smug, annoying face of Hank Brown flashed a smile as he approached Joey Flash.



Here is Hank Brown; he bears a striking resemblance to HBO boxing announcer and analyst Max Kellerman. This is now canon. It’s a World Championship promo; of course we make big moves here. Along with his rarely appearing cameraman Lionel you knew it marked a special occasion in WCF history whenever these two bumbling bastards appeared alongside the World Champion Emeritus. The two entered the studio to find Joey Flash already waiting inside for them, the beautiful olive skinned Adonis perched on top of one of the two stools situated in the middle of the lighting and audio set up.

Lionel: See, told you we shouldn’t have stopped to get that Vulgar interview.

Hank’s weasly, Jared Holmes-esque rat face sneered at his cameraman.

Hank: It was worth it.

Lionel: Yeah, it’s not often you catch someone masturbating with a cheese grater in the middle of Seth’s office and then cumming blood infused semen all over the desk. You’re right.

Hank: Howdy Joe! Long-time no see.

Here is where Joey Flash would usually reply with venom laced snark, perhaps a dismissive arrogant riposte. This time though we are going to take you a little deeper. The mind of a champion is so vast even Jules Verne couldn’t write shit that deep. Every little moment in Joey Flash’s life is studied and ruminated on before the outcome is actioned. You know the ‘little voices in your head’? well for one Joseph Malignaggi this occurred on a constant basis. Here, we find out for real: ‘What makes a champion?’

The mind of Joey Flash is a kingdom divided, the internal war between emotions raged as heavily as his body fought the wars each week both inside the ring and out. Inside Joey’s brain the voice of Hank Brown echoed next to the visual projection of that smarmy face.

‘Howdy Joe! Long-time no see. How ya been?’

The first voice that spoke inside Joey’s mind was guttural and coarse in its tone.

I am Joseph’s Anger: WHY THE FUCK DOES IT MATTER YOU RAT FACED CUNT, GET ON WITH THE INTERVIEW, AND WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE?

This most base of emotions was the hardest for the rest of Joseph’s mind to regulate, he took up the most room, shouted the loudest and was the most vocal part of lil Joe. A second voice spoke up sounding completely monotone and distanced from Anger.

I am Joseph’s Apathy: Who cares? It’s not like-

This was cut off by a panic stricken voice.

I am Joseph’s Anxiety: Who cares?! This is massive national Television exposure before the biggest match of the year so far, I just hope that he doesn’t mess this up by insulting homosexuals or Negros…we don’t want a repeat of last week.

A voice as smooth as honey flowed through the mind palace.

I am Joseph’s Confidence: We’re looking beautiful today, let’s just relax, this is just an interview. He can probably reduce Jayson Price to a crying wreck with this interview alone. We got this.

The final voice spoke with a charming sarcastic rhythm.

I am Joseph’s Wit: Oh I don’t know Hank, my child was brutally murdered in front of my eyes, I won the World Title for about five seconds, then was left side lined with a brain injury that we’re only just recovering from. What a fucking Christmas I had. Ho Ho Ho.

Joey smiled at Hank.

Joey: Good thanks; I’m looking forward to the big one-

I am Joseph’s Wit: That’s what she said.

Joey: -but shit I’m not going to lie to you: this match is so fucking boring to me I feel like shooting myself in the face than compete on Sunday.

Hank: Ahem, well we’ll get into that. You ready to go live?

I am Joseph’s Anger: NO I’VE BEEN SAT HERE FOR FIVE MINUTES BECAUSE I LIKE THE FUCKING AMBIENCE HERE. START THE FUCKING INTERVIEW YOU SPUNK KNUCKLED CUNT.

Joey: Let’s roll.

Hank signalled to Lionel and with a thumbs up from the cameraman the filming goes live.

Hank: Hello ladies and gentlemen and welcome to a special edition of the WCF Pod- Uhh, sorry cut can I start over?

I am Joseph’s Wit: Your mother probably wishes the same; she’d start her pregnancy with a coat hanger.

I am Joseph’s Anxiety: Oh jeez, he’s messed up already this isn’t good, don’t get flustered Joe-Joe!

Lionel: We’re live.

Hank: Oh uhh, haha! Well here I am with #1 Contender for the WCF World Championship Joey Flash, following his victory over Grayson Pierce it sets him up for a blockbuster clash with reigning Champion Jayson Price. What are your initial thoughts going into this match with a massive chance to regain the World Championship?

I am Joseph’s Apathy: Who cares? I didn’t want this shot, I don’t want to fight Jayson Price, the only reason this travesty ever happened was because I had to fight my walking punching bag Grayson Pierce.

Joey: My initial thoughts? Apathy.

I am Joseph’s Apathy: YES! HE PICKED ME!

I am Joseph’s Anger: SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Joey: Everyone already knows what this match is; this is the least hyped, least anticipated, least entertaining World Title match in recent history. This is a history that had Wade Moor as champion. This is not a contest of top level athletes; this is not a match of two similarly talented wrestlers at the height of their powers squaring off in an epic war for the biggest prize in the game. This is a piece of shit bum ass wrestler wiping his taint from the throne and telling me ‘I kept the seat warm for you sir’.

I am Joseph’s Confidence: Go in!!!

I am Joseph’s Anxiety: Oh lord, it begins, he’s starting to talk like he’s a king already, if he starts trotting out the ‘God’ analogies I think I’m going to have a seizure.

Joey: This match is a mismatch. Not a mismatch that I talk about on the weekly when I’m fighting wrestlers worse than me but a true to god mismatch. The odds makers on this at Vegas are tinted with nostalgia goggles, they have this as nearly an even money fight.

Joey Flash vs. Jayson Price
Joey Flash – 4/5 / Jayson Price - 6/4

Bullshit right? I’m dropping my entire fucking fortune on myself here.

I am Joseph’s Anxiety: You did that on the Vapor Kings to win Trios last year and we ended up broke for a whole month, don’t do it again Joseph I beseech thee!

I am Joseph’s Confidence: I might even have to re-mortgage multiple of my properties for this one, this is the closest thing to easy money I can imagine.

Joey: Let me put it in simpler terms for you, the #1 contendership match was a tougher match for me than this one…and I’ve killed Gemwire more times than I can even count. Joey Flash vs ‘Random Opponent’ on Slam is a tougher assignment for me than this one, every week I go out there and dominate against better competition than the guy I’m facing this week. This is a walk in the fucking park, I can feel the sunshine on my face and the belt around my waist already.

I am Joseph’s Confidence: GO IN!!!!!!!

Hank: I’m not one to question your question you-

I am Joseph’s Wit: But you likely will with an inane inaccurate observation.

Hank: But you are selling Jayson Price short. The guy is a 100% guaranteed Hall of Famer; he’s won more titles, and more high leverage matches than almost anyone in the company. He is the current World Champion for god sakes. I’ve never seen you this dismissive of an opponent before.

Joey: You talk like I’m not a future Hall of Famer already Hank. Look-

I am Joseph’s Anxiety: Oh no here comes the long winding boring spiel about how great you are, just promise me one thing, don’t mention your record Joe.

I am Joseph’s Confidence: 38-5 baby!

Joey: -I’m not even going to use the ‘you’re washed up, old and a relic of the past’ blandness. I don’t give a fuck about that. This isn’t about legacies, this isn’t about who has the better record-

I am Joseph’s Anxiety: Yay!

Joey: This isn’t about who has the most fans, sells the most merchandise, who has done the most for the company. This is about Sunday the 28th of February 2016 and who is the better wrestler. Anything else, you can have that. This is the time where we get to chopping the ‘Jayson Price’ fable. This is going to be the biggest big match exposure of a champion since Dune washed ICE. The sad thing about this for you Price is EVERYONE knows it; there is not a soul in this company that even thinks this match is close. Even Camerman Stu is probably dropping money on me at this point. Shit, the unassailable confidence of Jay Price is probably shaking and feeling weakened by now and I haven’t even started cooking him yet.

I am Joseph’s Confidence: Yum yum mothafucka, cook this dude!

I am Joseph’s Anger: I WANT A FUCKING PIZZA. FORZA ITALIA!

I am Joseph’s Wit: Calm it down you mad bastard, you’re probably the type of idiot who would claim he’s ‘part-Italian’ because he ordered a Venti at Starbucks.

I am Joseph’s Anger: COSTA COFFEE FOR LIFE YOU FUCKING WANKSTAIN.

I am Joseph’s Apathy: I don’t even like hot drinks. I want a glass of milk.

Joey: I don’t even know why we’re having this interview Hank; you’re going to ask the same stock questions that attempt to set up a set of benign answers that don’t hit home with the fans or resonate on every level. Do you want a generic Jayson Price/Cameraman Stu two hander where every step is choreographed in a specific manner to put over the points Price wants to say but a) isn’t smart enough or b) creative enough to find a way to flow and segway his promos in a hard hitting enough manner?

I am Joseph’s Anxiety: No no no! This is not what needs to happen here, be diplomatic, be kind…

I am Joseph’s Confidence: Give in. Just don’t fight it.

I am Joseph’s Wit: Said Jayson Price to every sexual partner ever.

Joey flashes his grin.

Joey: So how do you want it? I’m going to let the fans decide.

Joey reaches into his pocket and extends his hands out for the camera to see. In his left hand is a gelatinous blue pill and in his right, a red pill.

I am Joseph’s Anxiety: Now he’s plagiarising The Matrix too, someone kill me now.

I am Joseph’s Anger: GLADLY.

I am Joseph’s Apathy: I didn’t really like The Matrix films, I don’t like many films I don’t-

Joey: Two choices. I’ll allow you, the WCF Universe to decide which way this match goes.

Blue Pill (The Jayson Price Pill)

I take the blue pill and we continue in this terrible, forced, archaic, predictable, promo-by-numbers interview where I simply proclaim how good I am, how bad the opponent is, I’ll put over all my strengths, I put over some of my opponents weaknesses, we end with a mind numbing comedy skit and then go about our daily business. Completely empty and unsatisfied.

I am Joseph’s Wit: Said every sexual partner to Jayson Price ever.

Red Pill (The Joey Flash Pill)

I take the red pill…and I show Jayson Price just how deep this hole he has dug for himself is. I surgically dismantle one of the most decorated wrestlers in the history of the company, I break this sideshow bum down and eviscerate the last shreds of his self-respect, I flush the last bit of his confidence down the drain to join his drawing power and relevance. I show Jayson Price the difference between legendary and godhood.

I am Joseph’s Anxiety: There it is! He can’t even last five minutes of an interview without comparing himself to a deity, now he’s alienating religious people.

I am Joseph’s Wit: Join the club, blacks, gays and women have been here a long time already.

Joey: I’m waiting WCF Universe. You have ten minutes.

Hank: Uhh, this is highly irregular…but I’ll go with it. We’re opening a poll on WCF, you have-

Joey: Ten minutes. I already said.

Hank: Ten minutes to vote. How do you want this promo to go!?

Ten minutes later.

Hank: The results are in…and uhh:



Hank: What does this mean for me?

Joey: With all due respect Hank, it means-

I am Joseph’s Anxiety: Please don’t leave, we need something to temper Joey’s rambling rage, we don’t want him to get in trouble again.

I am Joseph’s Apathy: Who cares?

I am Joseph’s Confidence: I care, please depart, more time for Joey Flash to ether this poor fool Price.

I am Joseph’s Wit: It means-

I am Joseph’s Anger: IT MEANS FUCK OFF YOU WOBBLY MOUTHED CUNT.

Joey: Make like a tree, and fuck off.

Hank: Oh, ah. Well…good luck with your match Joey.

Joey: Less talking, more fucking off.

Hank: Fucking off, commencing!

He gathers his notes and departs the studio, leaving Joey alone with Lionel the cameraman.

Joey: Hey Lionel.

Lionel: Waddup.

Joey: I have one request.

Lionel: Yeah?

Joey: Just…shut up, focus the camera on me and record. My left side is my good side. Look at that. Zoom in, look how chiselled and manly that shit is. Anyway, I think it’s time we put an end to this queer show, it’s time to get back to what the fuck I’m here for.

Look at this, do you understand now? Take some fucking notes Price, I’ve not even got started on you yet and this match is already over and done with. When I got booked against Grayson Pierce for the #1 Contendership for this belt wanna know what my first thought was?

‘Meh’.

Fucking ‘meh’, I legitimately said, out loud the word ‘meh’ to myself. Do you realise how fucking stupid that is? This is how ridiculous this shit is. For the un-initiated, for the stupid, for the ignorant in this federation let me lay out the hierarchy in this federation, there are many tiers, many levels, many ‘scenes’ for different belts, but let’s make it quite clear right now, before I make it clear in the ring on Sunday. There is the ‘Main Event’ tier of great talented wrestlers, there are five or six guys who can go hard and dominate every week against any given opponent, hats off. Yet, through all of this there has for almost a year now been a tier even beyond that. To the point where it has started become part of WCF lore, there are main eventers, there are World Champions but then way up in the heavens looking down on everyone else there is Dune and Joey Flash.

We had a shift in the WCF, #BeachKrew emerged while I was injured, they dominated, they swept up almost every title there was. It was stunning stuff. I was watching at home captivated. They were dominant, they were amazing. They ran train on the WCF like it was nothing, so I come back, I’m slowly working my way back into fighting shape and I say to myself ‘Fuck it, let’s just kill these guys for the fuck of it. I’ve got my Levesque shovel all ready for this played out, boring one dimensional group of jobbers’ so Joey Flash decides on a whim to bury the relevance and dominance of #BeachKrew.

They throw every member at me, Oblivion, Kemp, Beaver, Rabid...they all get summarily ethered. But no, #BeachKrew can’t have this chump coming back and beating them with ease, let’s send our A-Team against him…and let’s get fucking killed as well.

Aquarius, Jared, they even recruited a completely random dude in Gable to try and take me down and it STILL didn’t even make a dent in my ethereal armour. Hey Gable, Jared promised you your revenge over me and surprise surprise, ratboy couldn’t deliver. My point? I took the ‘biggest thing in the WCF’ and I shut it down with a click of my fingers.

Let’s make something perfectly clear. The only reason I am not champion right now is a simple one, because I had no desire to be such. If anything I’ve spent my career here so far actively avoiding title shots, actively avoiding titles, a ‘title shot’ to Joey Flash is a layup in a warm up drill, it’s fucking automatic. So when I get booked against Grayson Pierce what am I to do? Do I sandbag the shit and let him get another World Title shot? Stupid right, want to know what made me decide to win the match? Because as a fan I didn’t want to be bored to fucking death by Jayson Price vs Grayson Pierce. So it was then I decided to meet you this coming Sunday.

For my first year in this place I was so consumed by the title, so driven by the title that is almost overwhelmed me. I saw people one tier, two tiers below my level hold the title and be regarded as the best in the company while I had to sit around the lower card and watch as the shit they put out there every week trickle down the federation…then I caught the dragon. I won the World Title, it was then, that five second period holding the biggest prize in the game that I realised, after all that, it didn’t mean a damn thing.

Nothing had changed; I didn’t suddenly collect eat a tin of spinach and become a fuckin superman. No, I was Joey Flash before the match, and I was Joey Flash after the match. A clump of metal around your waist doesn’t change who you are at the core of things. It doesn’t change the fact that since I arrived in this company I have been THE dominant force in the WCF, it doesn’t change the fact that I have been competing at a level that no one ever has before me. Just like it doesn’t change that you, Jayson Price, are the single most overachieving, overrated, simplistic, boring, repetitive piece of shit in WCF history. You are successful for one reason: era and opportunity.

If ‘Jayson Price’ popped up as a new wrestler today want to know what he would be? Raymond Hatcher. A drunken inconsistent faggot who one week can put out something slightly decent, but every other week it’s nothing but disappointing sludge. No fuck that, that’s a disservice to Hatcher, he would fucking WASH you. I mean fuck, half the entire roster at this point would absolute wipe the floor with you, no fuck THAT three quarters of the federation would be going balls deep inside you at this point.

‘Mister Every Title’ ‘Mister Double Grand Slam’ motherfucker this shit isn’t something to brag about, all this means is that you have won…then LOST a bunch of title matches. Let’s talk about your latest ‘success’ over Wade Moor. This was the most pathetic and underwhelming title match I have ever seen, literally, Katherine Phoenix would have beaten either of you that night, that is how bad your shit was. How do you even hold your head up and proud after that shit? You beat the most underwhelming performance from the most underwhelming champion possible *clap clap clap* give Jayson a cookie. It’s enough to cry yourself to sleep really Jayson, you get almost handed the World Title and then in your first real defence you have to put that shit on the line against Joey Flash?

Oh my gawd.

Motherfucker you do me the worst possible disservice, you’re just as worried about Logan as you are me. Hey Logan, hey Logan you watching this? CASH IN DURING THIS MATCH, I DARE YOU, I DOUBLE DOG DARE YOU, ya worthless cunt. I’ll beat you just as badly as I’m going to beat Price, I’ll smash that briefcase over your ugly noggin and make ‘Coop Soup’ with ya brain matter. Eat a dick ya stupid fuck, you had an easy mark with Jay Price; you should have used that shit straight away cos with me? Ain’t going to be a free week for you, ever.

It shows me immediately right there what you think of me, what you think of this match Price. Either you’re already resigned to your fate of crying and handing the belt to me after I dismantle you or, and this is the feeling I’m getting from you, you legitimately think you have a good chance in this match. That is the greatest disrespect I can think of. You’re not taking this match seriously. What? You don’t think I’m a worthy challenger? You don’t think I’m in your league? Which is it Price?

Joey smiles.

Joey: Please. The fact that you are even remotely looking past this match shows me that you don’t truly understand what’s in your way, what’s coming for you here. This is Joey Flash in a World Title match Jayson. I guess right now maybe you don’t understand what that means, and it’s okay I guess. My entire career I’ve been disrespected and looked down on those that came before me, ‘legends’ who think that this Flash guy can’t hang, ‘He ain’t no Slickie T, he ain’t no Fly…he’s a Flash in the pan!’ ain’t cos they’re being genuine, you wanna know what it is? They’re scared. They’re scared, just like you’re scared. Scared that a man has finally appeared with talent and skill so mind-bogglingly transcendent that it’s hard to even fathom, that a man who is that much better than everyone who ever came before is finally here in the Wrestling Championship Federation. I’m going to shatter every record, every legend this federation has.

I’m going to leave this match with absolutely no doubters, with absolutely no queries about my dominance in this game. There is not a man alive who can hang with me. Price, I’m not fighting you in this match, I’m fighting my own fucking legacy. Veterans doubt me.
What do my contemporaries say? ‘Joey Flash is the best’ ‘He’s a fucking animal’ ‘No one can match Joey’. See the difference is these are people who have been in the ring with me, these are people who understand, people who know what it’s like to play heads up with Joey Flash, and they understand after the match that they were drawing dead the moment the bell rang. You’ve been dealt off suit 2 and 8 and I’ve got pocket aces.

Joey holds a hand toward the camera.

Joey: This match right now is already over as a contest as you’re watching this. It’s okay Jay, you can weep into your pillow right about…

Joey looks at an imaginary watch on his wrist.

Joey: Now. But wait, hang on second. What happened to the complete evisceration Joey was talking about? Oh, I didn’t forget, don’t worry. Now, we asked the WCF Universe a question earlier, and so far I still haven’t fulfilled the wishes of the poll have I?

So what do you want? You want Joey Flash to press the killswitch on the career of Jayson Price, you want Joey Flash to show Jayson Price the difference in levels that we both share? You want to Joey Flash to show why he is the better wrestler with the better pedigree in this business? Well god damn, check those off the list. But fuck, we have a few things left on the checklist.

- Destroy the credibility and relevance of Jayson Price
- Humiliate and humble Price about what makes him a ‘wrestler’
- Humiliate and humble Price about what makes him a ‘man’
- Give everyone a clear benchmark of what it is to be World Champion in a world where Joey Flash exists, there is nothing close, there is nothing REMOTELY close.

This isn’t the match you wanted Price, I get it, you fluked the World Title under a series of bizarre circumstances and probably wanted to fight a few mediocre challengers to rack up a solid title reign to counteract the piece of shit champion you were last time you held the belt. This has been a warm up. Understand this, this is me going light, this is me going lighter than light. This is me giving my kill a final breath before I rip its throat clean out. Well Jay, lil buddy, let’s fire up the engine…

He raises his right hand with the red pill still cupped inside.

Joey: …and show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.

Joey knocks the pill back and gives a coarse swallowing sound as the pellet descends down his gullet. He tosses the blue pill to the side and smiles at the camera as we…

CUT!



Checkmate - 2/27/16

Time had slowed down as his lifespan was getting ripped to shreds. He spoke for the first time in what seemed an eternity.

Joey: I gots to ask Vincent, what WAS your son doing outside my club?

The laughter went silent. Vincent lowered his drank and spat back at Joey with vitriol.

Vincent: What?!

Joey: I’m just wondering, you know. See, from where I’m sitting, pardon if I’ve misunderstood, but the five boroughs are expressly under my control and protection. So I’m just wondering what a captain from Newark is in my city, in my borough, on my street, on my corner, outside my club…selling narcotics.

Vincent: That’s my son you’re talking about.

Joey gave him a smile.

Joey: Was. Was your son. You’re going to need to get used to saying that.

Vincent: You motherfuc-

This was the only gambit he had left, there was no more hands left for him to use here. He fished into his pocket, felt the leather of the wallet in his hand and in one deft movement dropped it on the table in front of him. If this elicited the one response he wanted, he had a chance, a slim one, but a chance none the less.

Joey: You might want to have a look at that.

Vincent’s face flushed red as he stood and began stomping toward Joey. He picked the wallet up as he reached where Joey was stood. Pulling open the wallet he saw the unmistakable driver’s license that belonged to his son. He wheeled round to face Joey who smashed the palm of his hand into Vincent’s nose shattering it instantly, as Vincent screamed in pain Joey span around and grabbed him in a sleeper hold before backing them both toward the wall so the men behind him couldn’t get a free shot. The sight of guns being drawn across the room almost brought a smile to Joey’s face; this was the response he needed. Only Alessandra was sat now, still unmoving. A whimpering Vincent was struggling in his arms; Joey licked his lips and squeezed the choke a bit tighter before whispering in his ear.

Joey: That was the sound, right there. The sound your son made while in pain after I snapped his arm in two. It made a beautiful crunch.

He raised his voice to the room.

Joey: Guns down. Now, or I snap his neck.

Alessio Montolivo began laughing.

Alessio: Are you stupid? Do you not understand how this shit works?

He finally stood up and reached into his jacket producing a pistol his own.

Alessio: You are not at an advantage here.

He took a few steps and pressed the cold steel into the side of Alessandra Malignaggi’s head.

Alessio: I believe Joseph, this is what we call ‘checkmate’. Release him and we won’t touch her.

Joey let his grip slacken for a moment as Vincent sputtered for breath before tightening both it, and his resolve. He couldn’t let the only leverage he had here disappear. It was at this point Alessandra finally showed some emotion, a smile crossed her lips before a small giggle escaped, followed by a deep sigh.

Alessandra: ‘Checkmate?’ Do you not even understand the situation you’re in Alessio? Are YOU stupid?

Alessio: What?! You bitch.

He released the safety.

Alessandra: Joseph. Release him.

Joey looked at her in shock.

Joey: What?! If I let him go they’ll-

Alessandra: Do you trust me?

Joey: I-

Alessandra: Do you trust me?!

Alessio: Go on Joe, trust her, she just dragged you here to your funeral, but go ahead trust her.

His body answered for him as Vincent staggered forward, sagging to his knees as he gasped for breath. His gasps turned to a gargling laugh as he turned to face Joey.

Vincent: Flayed…flayed and more, you fucking cocksucker, you’re done-

Alessandra: No. You’re not going to be flaying him Vincent. You’re not going to so much harm a hair on his head.

Alessio smashed the butt of the pistol across her face, the blood began to drip onto her dress from a deep gash on her brow. She turned her head to look at Alessio Montolivo and as the blood dripped across her right eye and filtered down her face, across her mouth and drip…drip…dripped…she was smiling even wider now.

Alessandra: Oh darling. You’re making this so much more fun than it would have been.

Alessio: What are you-

Alessandra held a finger toward him as she smiled once.

Alessandra: ‘Checkmate’ you said.

She stood up and slid a step toward him, grabbing his gun by the barrel dragging it so the tip rested on her forehead.

Alessandra: Make your move. Go on. Shoot.

Joey: AL WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

He took a step toward her, but she simply held her left hand out in the ‘stop’ position. He did as told.

Alessandra: This is a game to you Alessio. This whole thing, this meet, this night, it was all a setup to get Joseph here, to prove to father and I that he was guilty without a doubt so if anything were to happen to him you would be within your rights to get a pass for it. You poor sweet man, ‘Checkmate’ indeed. You played the game and look, you’re so close to winning, and all it takes is one more pull of the trigger. Go on.

He did. Alessio squeezed the trigger and closed his eyes to avoid seeing the beautiful face of Alessandra Malignaggi reduced to a red clump of mush, rather than the ringing gunshot however, the only sound he heard was a hollow *click*. He opened his eyes to find a smiling Alessandra, she pointed with her right hand to her left, Alessio followed her direction, he saw the harrowing truth of the situation now, the two men by the door had holstered their guns. Her smile grew wider as she took a step backward, the two Colletti bodyguards had also holstered their weapons, he quickly span round to find his own men, the men he had fought with, earned with, laughed with…holstering their own weapons.

Alessandra: See what you don’t seem to realise…

She reached a delicate hand under the oaken table and produced a silenced pistol from underneath. Raising to the pistol to his forehead.

Alessandra: …is this game was rigged from the start.