Post by Johnny Reb on Nov 14, 2010 23:38:54 GMT -5
A glittering white beach stretches in an endless curve, as far as the eye can see. The ocean, impossibly blue, meets a sky of the same shade, only the distant line of the horizon separating them. Multicolored beach umbrellas stand in staggered lines like sentries. Oversized towels and blankets dot the sand; children play noisily in the surf, while parents watch from the shore. Seated on the trunk of a palm tree growing at an angle, far from the chaos, Johnny Reb takes a surreptitious hit from a joint and passes it to his manager. Behind them, tropical plants – broad-leafed and colorful – form a paradisiacal backdrop.
Yet even in this serene setting, there is no peace for the Inveterate Confederate. He looks to the camera, his bruised face intent.
Johnny: Doc Henry…
His voice is soft, full of quiet fury.
Johnny: You have gone too far this time, sir.
Reb hesitates, gathering his thoughts.
Johnny: This has been personal, right from the start…but I gotta wonder where it all began. At what point did you decide it wasn’t enough to be a member of quite possibly the most renowned tag team the WCF has ever known? When did you determine that our friendship – our brotherhood – meant so little to you that you would throw it all away?
A deep furrow creases his brow.
Johnny: An’ for what? You already had it all: championship gold an’ a partner you could count on, no matter the odds. Oh, sure, I know you got it in your head somehow that you were the one carryin’ all the weight… an’ I let ya hang onto that little delusion, just to keep the peace. Maybe I shoulda corrected ya sooner; or maybe this was simply inevitable. Fact is, at Helloween – in spite of the way you stacked the deck in your favor – I proved you wrong in front of the thousands in attendance an’ the millions watchin’ at home. An every last one, down to a man, was cheerin’ me – not you.
What I don’t get is why you had to go an’ involve Dixie; why you paid her off to come back an’ feign interest in me. That, Mr. Henry, mighta been the dirtiest trick of all.
Exceptin’, of course, for the little stunt you pulled this Monday past.
The Inveterate Confederate pauses again, his expression granite-hard.
Johnny: What’s the matter, Doc? Afraid to face me all on your lonesome? You gotta ambush me in the dark?
I always thought you were better’n that.
For the first time, Johnny presents a grim smile to the camera, and his voice is heavy with derision.
Johnny: My mistake.
But now that I know what you really are, I’ll save ya some trouble: I’m done with ya. I ain’t gonna come lookin’ for revenge, so you can rest easy. I already beat you. I won. There’s nothin’ else to it. Once again, I’m gonna show ya I’m the bigger man, an’ let it go.
The smile fades.
Johnny: You come after me like that again, though – so help me, I will make you sorry. Deo vindice.
The tension in Johnny’s features eases.
Johnny: Now that bit of unpleasantness is outta the way… Mr. Dangerous, don’t think I’ve forgotten ya.
Last time, we stood in the ring as partners, shoulder to shoulder. I saw your drive, you potential; an’ you earned my respect.
This time, we stand opposed. Our match this week – chosen by Fate, no less – may only be the opening contest, but by God, I expect you to bring everythin’ ya got. An’ I’m gonna do the same.
We got no bad blood between us, just the purity of competition. No matter which of us walks out the victor, at least we both will know we gave our best, an’ that’s all any man can ask.
Good luck, Mr. Dangerous; an’ may the best man win.
See ya at Slam…
As a confident grin asserts itself on Johnny’s face, the scene fades out.
Yet even in this serene setting, there is no peace for the Inveterate Confederate. He looks to the camera, his bruised face intent.
Johnny: Doc Henry…
His voice is soft, full of quiet fury.
Johnny: You have gone too far this time, sir.
Reb hesitates, gathering his thoughts.
Johnny: This has been personal, right from the start…but I gotta wonder where it all began. At what point did you decide it wasn’t enough to be a member of quite possibly the most renowned tag team the WCF has ever known? When did you determine that our friendship – our brotherhood – meant so little to you that you would throw it all away?
A deep furrow creases his brow.
Johnny: An’ for what? You already had it all: championship gold an’ a partner you could count on, no matter the odds. Oh, sure, I know you got it in your head somehow that you were the one carryin’ all the weight… an’ I let ya hang onto that little delusion, just to keep the peace. Maybe I shoulda corrected ya sooner; or maybe this was simply inevitable. Fact is, at Helloween – in spite of the way you stacked the deck in your favor – I proved you wrong in front of the thousands in attendance an’ the millions watchin’ at home. An every last one, down to a man, was cheerin’ me – not you.
What I don’t get is why you had to go an’ involve Dixie; why you paid her off to come back an’ feign interest in me. That, Mr. Henry, mighta been the dirtiest trick of all.
Exceptin’, of course, for the little stunt you pulled this Monday past.
The Inveterate Confederate pauses again, his expression granite-hard.
Johnny: What’s the matter, Doc? Afraid to face me all on your lonesome? You gotta ambush me in the dark?
I always thought you were better’n that.
For the first time, Johnny presents a grim smile to the camera, and his voice is heavy with derision.
Johnny: My mistake.
But now that I know what you really are, I’ll save ya some trouble: I’m done with ya. I ain’t gonna come lookin’ for revenge, so you can rest easy. I already beat you. I won. There’s nothin’ else to it. Once again, I’m gonna show ya I’m the bigger man, an’ let it go.
The smile fades.
Johnny: You come after me like that again, though – so help me, I will make you sorry. Deo vindice.
The tension in Johnny’s features eases.
Johnny: Now that bit of unpleasantness is outta the way… Mr. Dangerous, don’t think I’ve forgotten ya.
Last time, we stood in the ring as partners, shoulder to shoulder. I saw your drive, you potential; an’ you earned my respect.
This time, we stand opposed. Our match this week – chosen by Fate, no less – may only be the opening contest, but by God, I expect you to bring everythin’ ya got. An’ I’m gonna do the same.
We got no bad blood between us, just the purity of competition. No matter which of us walks out the victor, at least we both will know we gave our best, an’ that’s all any man can ask.
Good luck, Mr. Dangerous; an’ may the best man win.
See ya at Slam…
As a confident grin asserts itself on Johnny’s face, the scene fades out.
