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[Joey Flash]

Overheard in the WCF locker room before WAR:

“He got us” The WCF locker room said of Joey Flash’s appearance in the WAR match "That fucking Flash doomed us"
Bonnie Blue added, “When do I get my shot?” repeating it four times.
Stephen Singh then said he wanted to add Joey Flash to the list of people he wanted to be banned this autumn.

Hazy silhouetted darkness. A figure. The feeling of oncoming dread in the pits of the stomachs of everybody signed to a WCF contract heading into the tail end of September when you realise the inevitable is happening once again. Tick follows tock. A voice; quiet and metronomical but refreshing. The first autumnal raindrops after a scorching summer.

“At every point in a person’s life there is a time where you think to yourself: I could be the baddest motherfucker in the world. I’ll start training amateur grappling. I’ll start boxing. I’ll learn jiu-jitsu. I’ll join the army, or the marines, or even the SAS. You learn of a match where you can find out for yourself. It’s a mythical match, where the best combat athletes in the world come together and compete in the most gruelling conditions for the right to be called the baddest motherfucker in the world.

War.

The roster here probably feel that way too. It’s natural. This is your chance to finally prove to yourself your worth as a fighter. Then this match happened, and at the whim of one person they crush every single hope and thought you ever had about those wistful daydreams. In a way, this is liberating. You no longer has to worry about trying to be the baddest motherfucker in the world.”

A beam of light hits the charcoal Versace two piece, the sheen of the Ricci tan brogues, the wild black hair, the picture perfect smile that seems to emit caustic venom from the radiance.

Joey Flash.

“The position is taken."




One week earlier…


“So...what’s my motivation?”

Joseph Malignaggi sat on the old leather couch that had been his emotional pacifier in his shrink, Doctor Charles Edwards’ office for the past three years. The doctor appraised Joseph and removed the thick rimmed glasses adorning his face, placing them gently onto the table that separated the pair. A man pushing his late fifties, Edwards had taken many intriguing clients before; users, abusers, psychopaths, sociopaths but none of them had caught his attention and excited his passion for work more than the man in front of him. When Joseph Malignaggi first stepped through his door as a gaunt spectre of a man who was a walking maelstrom of pain and fury it felt like a classic case of neglected, abused gifted child becomes abuser, neglecting themselves and using their gifts to further their own misery; all the while living life with a middle finger to who they could have been if the circumstances were different. As the layers peeled off through their sessions, the scared young man who had a reservoir of love and compassion that had been well and truly poisoned through his adolescence was getting purified. Drop by drop.

The pupae that had walked through his doors had metamorphosed into the man sat across from him now. Through all the loss and tragedy, both given and received - he had made it out the other side. A man full of life, whose smile was no longer a defence mechanism but spread across his face with genuine warmth. This was a man who no longer needed his ‘Joey Flash’ mask to be happy.

Edwards: Is that a rhetorical question or do you want my genuine opinion? I can give you that, if you’d like.

Joseph shrugged and ran a hand through his wild black mane that now hung halfway down his back.

Joey: I dunno. It’s just...there’s an itch.

Edwards whispered ‘rhetorical’ under his breath.

Joey: I have an open ended seven figure contract regardless of whether I make any appearances. I’m good. I’m fuckin’ gravy man. I don’t need to step into another wrestling ring as a competitor ever again, I’m good with what I’ve achieved. I’m living life, I’m travelling, I’m not putting my body through shit. I get to spend time with Lucia and Alessandra, like actual time: not ‘Daddy’s tired’ time, y’know? I’m actually there now, I was even there for my daughter’s first word - fucking madness right?

Hey, guess what it was by the way?

Edwards: I don’t-

Joey: Go on, guess!

Edwards: I don’t know, Grime?

Joey’s face froze in a Keanu Reeves ‘Whoa’ transcendental revelatory moment.

Joey: HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GUESS?!

Edwards: I just thought of your most commonly used phrases and words during our sessions and picked the one I’ve heard you mention most.

Joey: That’s...uhhh...yeah. I lied to Al and said it was ‘Flash’ though, oh well.

Edwards: How are the two of you getting along by the way?

Joey: Me ‘n Al? She seems happy, but what the fuck do I know? If she wanted me to think she was happy, I would think she was happy. Does she even know what happy is? I mean I ask myself that whenever her laugh breaks through the clouds of a shitty day. Man, I should get her in front of you some time.

Edwards: I wouldn’t be able to disclose what was discussed with you.

Joey: How about if I gave you a gift of a thousand bucks? Just for being so good to me over these years and-

Edwards: I’m going to ignore the fact that you just offered me a bribe to break confidentiality and disclose another patient’s personal information to you. You are deflecting. ‘There is an itch…’ Continue.

Joey: Yeah. So, let me talk for a bit. Not that I haven’t, but y’know. So...I hate wrestling.

Edwards: ...but?

Joey: No but. I fucking despise it. It takes time away from my family, from me growing as a person, I hate the schedule, the pressure, the media. It’s not me, not any more. It turns me into someone I don’t like, someone I don’t want to be any more. Fuck it, but...but...I fucking miss it. It’s like there is a gnawing feeling in the back of my head urging me, driving me to lace my boots up again. I thought fighting Rabid a couple of months ago would quiet the voice, so I could forget this shit entirely; rather than quiet the voice all it did was turn the whisper into a non-stop murmur. There is a match coming up, it’s called War, do you remember me telling you about that shit before?

Edwards nods.

Joey: So, you win this match you’re the fucking man. Like top of the food chain, nuts hanging low busting your load over everyone else’s hard work and letting them know it never really mattered.

Joseph ran his tongue across his top lip before sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. That murmur was starting to turn into a scream.

Joey: It’s making me scared Doc.

Edwards: Whether or not you will win if you fight?

Joseph began to laugh before cutting himself off mid chuckle, burying his head in his hands.

Joey: My problem isn’t whether or not I win the match.

He raises his gaze towards Doctor Edwards. The look on Joseph’s face froze Charles Edwards in place and a chilling touch seemed to play the piano up his spinal cord.

Joey: It’s what happens when I do.




Present day…


The iridescent Joey Flash begins stalking back and forth in the now illuminated room.

Joey: I would like to start off by apologising to the Wrestling Championship Federation roster. I’m sorry that your hard work this year and all your in depth rivalries, character development and successes are going to be ruined by that one nasty, but devilishly handsome man once again. Just like two years ago, I’m taking all this time off to prepare and recuperate while you have been putting your work in tirelessly...and just like two years ago I’m going to bury every single fucking one of you and there isn’t a thing that anyone in this match can do to stop it.

War is a simple binary equation, if Joey Flash is in this match - you don’t win the match.

It wouldn’t matter what the lineup for this match was, you take every Hall of Famer in their prime and teleport them to Toronto on the 30th and the odds would be the same, the outcome would be the same. Now I know there will be backlash, it’s always polemic when it comes to Joey Flash but if anything I am doing the WCF a favour. The main event of One is the most prestigious honour in this business. No if’s and’s or but’s.

What narrative works for the main event?

‘Fat retard gets World Title shot?’ - Sorry Alex, not this year. Or any year you stupid fat ugly twat. How do you still exist? Alex Richards is the perennial token ‘let’s laugh at the funny stupid fat man’ of every big match. Go find your typing wand and fuck off back to the internet division you irrelevant, overbooked weirdo. The Guardians are also as shit as The Pack. Just...die off already. Thank you.

‘Gimmick flip flopping self-doubting faux-luchador finally goes over!’- Teddy, Teddy bro you still with me? Go fucka yaself! You always have an always ever will be a lower mid-card nobody. I don’t care how hard you work or which of the three rotating gimmicks you are rolling with this week. Each one of them is shit, because, guess what? You are shit. I loved when Dune beat you when you got your big shot buddy. I bet you cried, I hope you cried.

‘Fake Dune’ - Who in the holy fuck even is this person? What type of shitty management has allowed a cosplaying fan to even become part of the roster? Price makes Seff look like Steve Jobs.

‘Collection of strange overly sexual inbred weirdos shock world with self-mastabatory orgy in PPV main event! -  If I wanted that, I would watch Action Wrestling.

‘Private investigator uncovers the reason behind dip in ratings: finds own push’ A private investigator who is a taekwondo master is currently undefeated in this federation. I don’t even think I need to say any more about the state this place is in. I mean what in holy fuck?

‘Joey Flash personal nutrag wins!!’ Daddy is not mad with how badly you’ve progressed Stephen. He’s just disappointed.

‘No name, most likely lesbian jobber surprises world, wins War.’Why are half the roster random interchangeable lesbians?

These are all terrible. Not terrible, borderline abhorrent to my sensibilities as a performer - no fuck that, my sensibilities as a fan of this sport. Let’s be real here. There is only one narrative that works to elevate the company out of the doldrums it finds itself in right now.

‘The best wrestler in the world wins War, dominates champion at One’

Logically.
Thematically.
Inevitably.

Joey Flash wins this match. Let’s get it started. Everyone in this match can suck my dick. This is the worst roster I have ever seen since I’ve been involved with this company, half of the wrestlers are indy nobodies who are filling roster positions and the other half are mid-carders masquerading as top talent. Just look at your World Champion. Odin Balfore was an also-ran who would be good for one or two high points in a year but otherwise a bit part background player, but he ain’t an idiot; Odin Balfore saw the wasteland that the WCF had become and all but solidified himself as a Hall of Famer by sweeping, what, three World Title reigns in the space of like half a year? It’s brilliant on his part, but it’s blasphemous the rest of you fucking fruits let something like that happen. What happened here? Did Action Wrestling really neuter this place this much? I’ve watched Slam maybe a handful of times this past year and every fucking thing I see is mediocrity. Back slapping and hand shaking, holding hands and placating. You are like newborn sheep just presenting your throats to a non-existent wolf, well I’m here to let you know in no uncertain terms - I am coming for your throats in this match. I don’t give a fuck about your life, your livelihood, your wife, your kids or your dead retarded brother. I’m not going to shake your hands after the match, you’re not going to get a picture with me, you’re not going to congratulate me on Twitter after the match. You are going to hate me and detest what I do. You’ve never seen something like this before. You hate what you don’t understand. Serial winner with a killer instinct, let War be my fucking thesis on the subject.

‘But Joey you bully it ain’t gonna be like tha-’

Yes it is.

For the people who haven’t seen me before, if anything you’re actually coming into this match with an advantage. It’s the people who know me, who have stepped through the ropes with me that this is going have breaking out into the cold sweats and bringing those palpitations back. Funnily enough it’s the person who is the odds on betting favourite heading into this match that this is going to have the worst effect on. Hello Steven. You were Steven when you challenged me, weren’t you? Do you want to tell the world how the ‘best wrestler in the company’ got treated when you fought Joey Flash? Your name tells the story really, you got fucked so hard I even took your ‘v’ in the ring - Stephen. Fucking idiot somehow ISN’T World Champion in the sea of shit that you’ve been floating in this past year? You are an embarrassment. I was right to put Adrian Archer as a higher threat than you the last War we entered together. Two time World Champion, all sorts of accolades: loses to a FUCKING DETECTIVE IN HIS LIKE SECOND PROFESSIONAL FIGHT. You are a joke, your career is a joke; yet another cherry picker in a weak era. I pray you make it to the end of this match with me just so I can get my nut as I put you down once more and crush your hopes of having a blow off to your snoozefest of a feud with Balfore in what I’m sure you are already hyping in your own mind as an ‘epic’. The Bonnie vs Flash main event will sure be something won’t it?

Flash takes a moment, removing his suit jacket and tossing it nonchalantly to one side where it lay in a crumpled heap of expense. Unbuttoning his cufflinks before rolling his shirt up, Flash gives a smile to the camera.

Joey: Sorry. I am getting off track. I’m not going to go on a meandering list of shooting on the people in this match, fish in a barrel as it might be. It’s counterproductive to me. This match isn’t about why you won’t win, it’s about why Joey Flash will.

Let’s see how many of you fulfil the categories needed to be successful in War. You need at least one of these to even have a chance. Score yourself, see how you do.


1. Past accomplishments and accolades

There are seven world title reigns in this match and three former World Champions.

Joey Flash x3
Singh x2
Price x2

This alone renders the rest of the ‘talent’, notice the air quotes you untalented fucks, irrelevant. Any other former main eventer and legit top talent wants to step in as a surprise, sure, go to top of the list of ‘also rans to Joey Flash in this match’. The point I’m making is this: these people know how to win big matches on the biggest stage.


2. A current hot streak

No one else has even come close to having the taste of an opportunity and a match on this scale, there is no ‘big story’ like the LGBT community pushing influencing the weak minded Lerch who stacked the deck in Sidney J Warwick’s favour before the tranny annihilated John Rabid at One in a completely legit unbiased, correctly officiated match. The person coming in hottest is fuckin’ Columbo, Singh you really are a retard - you’re the only World Champion who would start a fight with Hercule Poirot and get knocked the fuck out. Kurt Navarro has the hot streak, however sadly for him he didn’t use to have a vagina. He also doesn’t have a dick or a set of nuts either, fuckin’ Ken doll ass mothafucka.


3. The longevity award aka ‘The Mikey eXtreme World Title win’

This is where a long tenured member of the federation manages to finally put the pieces together and win the big one, usually it’s a person who is an underappreciated stalwart who hasn’t held the big belt before. This one is a bit difficult this time cos Teddy got his shot against Dune and lost as usual. Richards is a fat waste of space so doesn’t deserve anything near. Will Mikey himself come back and give it a shot? None of these people fit this category, except probably fuckin Price - but I’m going to personally cave that drunk fuckers head in.


4. Be Logan.

Or any form of sexual predator really here is your chance Q-Ball!


5. Learn that this whole list was a waste of time because it doesn’t matter anyway and you just wasted your time scoring your chances on a non-existent criteria spectrum that means nothing when you are stood across the ring from Joey Flash at War. I’ve got all of you beaten on talent, on accomplishments and big match experience at this point.

I also have one big executioners axe hanging over this match that no one else currently announced for the match has.

I’ve won War.

This is my event. I won my first World Title here as my irresistible force met the immovable object of Dune’s run then followed that up the next year by winning the biggest War match in history. That match had the largest turnout, the highest quality and concentration of talent in history and still I stop imperious and unblemished at the top of the mountain. What is going to stop me in this match from doing the same? I mean fuck I could tear my ACL walking to the ring and still probably beat the shit out of everyone in this match, sure as shit ain’t gonna be anyone fighting me that can take me out. Even if like fifteen of you tried to eliminate me I’m too quick, too skilled, too damn good to even so much as lose a hair out of place. If you fuckers manage to get my hair out of my man bun during War consider that a victory, cos it’s the only positive you’re going have from the match. Unless you swap bodily fluids with any of that ridiculous Mustache family, then you’ll have a whole different set of positives to deal with.

Only one other man in the seventeen year history of this company has won this match more than once. Logan. I would find it an honour to be on the same list as that man. Not so much the sex offenders list that cunt has to register with though.

Joey grins.

Joey: Look, I’m not just doing this for legacy. I mean sure, is it a huge thing for me? Fuck yeah it is. For my name to not be listed in the Hall of Fame galls me as much as it does Price, to not have an ‘Infinity Stone’ whatever those ridiculous pop culture flavour of the month bullshit things are named after me is an insult. For me to not be considered as the first monument erected on the WCF Mount Rushmore is a spit in the face to my talent. So am I doing this for legacy? Sure. As much as any fucker is in this match. You think everyone in this match wouldn’t break down in tears and hail the win as the crowning glory of their career? This is how important War is, this is why it’s considered the greatest match in every calendar year. This is the reason there are ‘surprises’ and ‘returns’ - it’s not a gimmick. This is the real deal. Winning War twice? That’s a feather in the cap. I could quit right after the match and be done, happy with all my accomplishments. Happy with my legacy.

...but I am not doing this for legacy. Not in the slightest.

See this is where my mindset differs from everyone else. I would not be breaking down in tears winning this match. War is a huge achievement for sure, but for me it’s not the end, it’s not my crowning glory. It’s the first step on my journey to ripping the head off whoever is champion at One. This is what I’m fighting for. It’s all I’ve ever fought for. I’ve sacrificed things none of you could even begin to fathom to capture that belt.

Joseph flinches for a second and lets out a wince of pain, static begins to fill the screen as if a television is skipping to find the next analogue signal. Stuttering. Stuttering. A whisper leaves Joseph’s lips.

‘ ...the monster inside me has grown so big.’

The static fades and light returns to the screen. His gaze returns back to the camera, eyes frantic and fervent before focusing once more.

Joey: Even now it’s calling to me. It wants to return home. I intend to give it a first class ride back to Daddy’s waist. Doesn’t matter who the champion is at the time, the champion is essentially only going to be known to me as ‘placeholder’. At War the wheel begins turning again and a whole new chapter in WCF history begins. Yet another one written by my fair hand, my fair hand with a vice like iron grip of the title ‘best in the world’.

World Championship or nothing.

I have to win this match, it’s not just the burning desire. Not just my need to conquer, dominate and win. I mean fuck, if I lose, what is there for me in the business anymore? I lose, that’s it for me. I have my pride, you’re not going to see me fighting every Slam and travelling week to week fighting for some Infinity Stones that don’t mean shit but a shiny colour on my profile at WCFWrestling.com. You ain’t seeing my fighting for any of these second tier shit-tier belts. This match is it for me. Win or go home, shit or get off the pot. If Joey Flash doesn’t win this match his disappears not to be heard of again until the next XIII. If you pin my shoulders 1...2...3 in that ring on Sunday, you retire Joey Flash.


Flash pauses for a moment - his face solemn, then a wide toothy grin begins creeping across his Roman features.

Joey: ...but I’ve been putting my career on the line every time I step through the ropes. I am the single biggest scalp a person can get in professional wrestling. I’ve lost one on one heads up twice in my whole career. A triumph over me is the professional wrestling Holy Grail, my record is the best in history, I exist on a plane that no other wrestler has ever touched. Now is your chance, the War win would be sweet but that pin on Joey Flash would be even fucking sweeter.

Can any of you do it? I’m putting everything I have on the answer being ‘no’.

Prestige.
Respect.
Making your family proud.
Making yourself proud.
A large winners bonus.
Sponsorship deals.
Adulation.
Adoration.
Mainstream media coverage.
Pop culture fame.
Winning War.
Becoming the #1 contender for the WCF title.
Main eventing One.

The only thing standing in the way of that?

Joey flourishes his arms.

Joey: Is this motherfucker right here.

There is nothing like this in professional wrestling. So let me introduce you to the Joey Flash experience. Please, come at me with your whole collective wrath. For the times I’ve belittled you, bullied you, made you feel weak and small and powerless, for the potential winnings, earnings and prestige that you will get from beating me.

You have everything to gain and I have everything to lose; so how do I stand before you right now unwavering in my confidence?

Because I know how this story ends. This is not a match where your chances increase or decrease based on the amount of bodies that step through the ropes. This isn’t even a quality vs quantity argument. This is not a toss up, this is not luck. This is the simple fact that your luck ran out the moment I put ink to paper for this match. Thirty seven people (if rumours are to believed) vs Joey Flash. You should fear those odds. For the first time in years I am not fighting because I have to, I’m not fighting because I have to meekly defend a title that I could hold for eternity if I chose. I’m fighting for something I want. Something I need.
Odin Balfore, you have something I’m going to be taking very shortly. Whether you still hold onto it after War is irrelevant. It doesn’t matter if you, Bonnie, or Random midcard faggot #3 hold what I want. I’m going to be taking the WCF World Championship at One. There is nothing anybody in this match can do to stop me. There is nothing anyone not in this match can do to stop me. I will win War. I will take on whichever goon holds the big belt. I will win. This is the most pathetic, weakest War lineup in the history of the WCF. I refuse to let this place fall to the dogs, I’m not going to stand by while such a prestigious event falls to be nothing but carrion to the starving for success vultures that circle it. I’m coming for you all. I’m coming for everything every single one of you hold dear and I am going to rend it from you.

That is how the story ends.

That is the how the story has always ended. From the moment I signed my first contract to even now. Joey Flash wins. It doesn’t matter how many, it doesn’t matter who, it doesn’t matter when, it doesn’t matter where. There is one gut punch of a certainty in professional wrestling. Joey Flash wins.

Because of course he does. Why would you even think it would end any differently?

Joey Flash always wins.

Bodybags on deck. You’re finished.




Promise me…(fifth tape)

Joseph Malignaggi adjusts the cape for his wrestling outfit, a garish oversized white wrestling robe as he prepares to make his entrance for War. Joseph Malignaggi flashes a smile toward the camera. Joseph Malignaggi shakes with tension, apprehension, excitement and fear. Joseph Malignaggi presses record.

Joey: I wasn’t even going to do this. I was going to talk myself out of it. It’s stupid. It won’t help. But fuck that. It’s not stupid, and I don’t give a fuck if it helps or not. I miss you as much now as I ever have. Please son, don’t think for one second that because I dunno, I’m not mentioning you on television all the time that you don’t matter or that I don’t care because that ain’t the case. That ain’t the case at all. I love you. I love you more than I ever thought I was capable of loving another person.

He pauses.

Joey: Fuck this is tough. I have so many things I want to talk to you about. I know this is something you won’t ever see so I guess to a point it’s selfish; but that’s me right? That’s dear old Dad. Selfish to the core. I suppose what I’m recording this for isn’t for penance. Isn’t for absolution. This is a father talking to his son.

Your mother is safe. Your mother is happy.
You have a sister now, she is safe. She is happy. I swear to fucking god I will make her happy. No matter what it takes.

I love you Christian. I understand that things might seem silly, ridiculous or downright inhuman how I have acted after what happened. I haven’t forgotten. I haven’t forgotten one tiny fucking bit.

Flash stares intently as his music begins to serenade the congregation of fans a world away in the arena beyond the curtain.

Joey: You never have once left my mind. I never step through these ropes without imagining your face at ringside, imagining your cheers for me. You are my motivation. You are my drive. You are the reason I’m evening entering this match. I’m going to do horrible things. As I told you before, I’m telling you now: this is not the way to live a nice happy life. But fuck...it’s the only way I know how. I’m going to show you the love your father had for you. The lengths I am willing to go to, the depths I am willing to travel. I am willing to break every bond I have, crush every friendship or following.

This is the most important match I’ve ever had in my career. I’m going to win Christian, I’m going to win War, and I’m going to give you the WCF World Title as an early Christmas gift. Maybe this wil actuallyl be the one…maybe then after everything I’ve done…

You really will be finally be proud to call me ‘Dad’.