Post by Jonny Fly on Dec 11, 2011 16:08:40 GMT -5
[Flashback]
We need to talk.
These words are spoken as the scene fades in. We are in New York City in August, 2010. It’s a busy morning on the streets of the biggest city in the United States. Cars are seemingly endlessly backed up from streetlights, and patrons walking on the street are scurrying about at a busy pace; except one man. This man is staring into the backseat of a black Lincoln Town Car parked on the curb. We fade in on this scene as the man reaches for the door handle to the car, and enters the backseat. Our scene re-emerges inside the car.
Inside the car is a driver, a middle aged man wearing black sunglasses and a black suit. There is one identically dressed man in the backseat and he is sitting with the man we just seen enter the car from the street. Our camera angle would lead us to believe that there is nobody sitting in the passenger seat of the car. The car begins to move from the curb where it was parked into the endless New York City traffic. The man we seen on the street begins the conversation.
Agent Gregory, what do I owe this pleasure?
We can clearly tell now that the man in the backseat dressed in a black suit with black sunglasses is Agent Gregory, last seen in The Bigger Threat at Jonny Fly’s witness protection house.
Jonny Fly has escaped.
These words seem to take the man from the street aback. He scoffs at Agent Gregory, folds his hands, and responds.
What the hell do I pay you for?
I’ve done everything your family has asked. I redirected the investigation into your family, and turned my superiors against Fly. He escaped witness protection while under 24 hour surveillance.
How does a man escape 24 hour surveillance?
We had cars parked down the street and at all exit points from the house. He just...disappeared.
The man opposite of Agent Gregory leans in and mutters:
Men don’t just disappear. The problem is he was just smarter than you. You’ve put my whole family in jeopardy. Do you have any idea where he is?
We don’t know where he is, but we can assume he’ll be heading back to New York.
The man leans back in his seat shaking his head.
This is a problem, Agent Gregory. It’s your problem to fix. If you fail, you know exactly what is going to happen to you. Find Fly and end this forever. You have the resources of the entire FBI at your disposal. There are no excuses for failure. Now, let me out of this car.
The car pulls over. The man reaches for the handle to the car and opens the door. He steps outside and before closing the door comments one last time to Agent Gregory.
I better see an obituary for Jonny Fly in my morning paper in 48 hours.
The man closes the door and the car pulls back onto the street and drives away in the distance. The camera stays with the man who has exited the car and watches as he takes out his cell phone. He dials a number and then waits for the other end to answer. We zoom in so that we can hear the voice on the other end of the line.
Hello?
It’s John Ridder, please patch me through to my father.
The man, John Ridder, begins to walk down the street; we follow along. There is a long pause on the other end of the line and finally a voice comes over the phone. The voice isn’t that of John Ridder’s father, Jack Ridder, one of New York’s most brutal crime lords, it’s that of someone else..
Hello, John. It’s been too long.
John Ridder stops dead in his tracks and yells out..
No! NO!
Yes, John. Yes.
Listen to me, motherfucker…
No! You listen to me. Your father is at my knees right now begging for mercy, crying like the little bitch he is. You’re never going to see him alive again, John. That’s the first thing you need to come to grips with. It’s up to you how he dies.
Goddammit, Fly, I’m going to rip you apart..
You’re not focused, John. Focus. Your father is depending on it. I need to know exactly who in the FBI your family has paid off. Your dad doesn’t know, unfortunately. He has estimated it as less than ten agents, which is interesting because that’s the exact number of fingers he has.
What? What are you talking about?
For every name you give me you spare your dad one finger.
You fucking ignorant nothing. There is nowhere you can run from me. My family owns this city. You’ll be dead before you step foot on the street outside if you touch him.
John, I’m beginning to worry you’re not going to be able to come through for your dad. Do you really want the man who built your empire to be seen on the front page of the newspaper without any fingers, toes, ears, lips, nose, or eyes. That’s how this is going to work. I need information. Now, focus, who have you paid off?
You know I’m not going to give you that information.
I wish you were seeing this, John.
All of a sudden a loud scream is heard. Muffled shouting is all that can be heard for ten seconds before the other end goes silent.
Do you know what I did for four years in witness protection, John? I read. I read a lot. I learned a lot. In 2009 the swine flu epidemic hit this country, and come to find out the shot that we gave to prevent people from getting the flu, yea, a certain strand of it actually caused paralysis. Imagine being awake, being able to feel everything, and not being able to move.
What are you talking about you sick fuck?
I can’t have your father screaming for mercy every time I cut off one of his fingers, you know? He’s going to attract too much attention. So, you will be thrilled to know that your father has now been injected with that vaccine and he is currently doing his best interpretation of a real-life vegetable. This will allow us to continue without interruption.
I swear to god, Jonny, the pain you think you’re causing him will be nothing compared to what I do to you. Don’t forget that you’re the one who went into hiding. We could have finished our affairs out like men.
Like men? Your operation is run by a 70 year old man who has spent the last 30 minutes slobbering over my shoes, crying for my forgiveness. Now, GIVE...ME…WHAT…I…WANT!
He wouldn’t want me to.
I’m not so sure.
A cracking sound is heard.
8 fingers left, and he doesn’t look very happy about it.
You’re not the only one with leverage here, Jonny. I know what burns inside of you. I know the real reason you went to the FBI. I know why you are back here in New York. You want your life back, you want to wrestle again. You want your fame and fortune. I’ll make you a one-time offer. I’ll leave you alone forever, just let him go. You can have it all back, and you know I can make that happen.
There is a long pause on the other end of the phone before Fly states…
I’m sorry, what did you say? I was too busy cutting Jack here’s hand down to a nub. It’s actually kind of funny to look at. One hand with 5 fingers, one hand with zero.
That’s it, Fly. I’m done with this conversation. Do your worst with him, he was never under any impression he was going to go out glamorously. That’s the life we choose to live. I’ll have my revenge, though. I'm coming for you.
The man on the street throws his phone to the ground, stomps on it, and then begins walking down the street out of the view of the scene.
[End Flashback]
[Present Day]
Dressed in a suit and tie, Jonny Fly sits silently in his locker room in the backstage area of a WCF dark show. The door to Fly’s locker room is opened, and a staffer walks inside. Fly looks up to greet him.
Jonny, you’re up.
Fly smiles, gets up from his seat, and exits the room. Our scene reemerges inside the arena. The ring is empty, and the crowd is anxiously awaiting the next act. The lights in the arena suddenly go out. Blackness is all that prevails around as the crowd begins to cheer. After a few seconds, blue strobes emerge around the stage zooming around in no particular pattern. The strobes center themselves onto the stage illuminating the silhouette of a man.
“The Champ” begins playing and the crowd explodes from their seats. The lights flicker in conjunction with pyros shooting upward. The lights come on and Jonny Fly is seen standing of the stage. Fly smiles out at the crowd and begins walking down the ramp slapping hands with fans all the way down to the ring area. He uses the ring steps to elevate himself into the ring. The WCF ring announcer hands him a microphone and then exits the ring. Fly walks around the ring looking out to the crowd before pausing and bringing the microphone to his lips.
Hello, WCF.
Fly, a longtime favorite of wrestling fans, receives a “Jonny – Fly, Jonny –Fly” chant. Fly waves his hand for the fans to calm down.
Since I’ve begun here with WCF I haven’t had a chance to come out here and talk. This used to be my favorite aspect of being a wrestler, the ability to just come out here in front of all of you and talk about what’s on my mind.
The crowd picks up its chant again. Fly continues.
A wrestler once told me that all I needed to win matches was desire.
The crowd begins to quiet down a bit. Fly pauses as he walks around the ring looking out at the thousands in attendance. He smiles, and then continues.
Of course, this particular wrestler was an older guy, hanging on to the last moments of his career. Like so many he thought he could just will himself to victory. All he had to do was…want it.
Fly scoffs and shakes his head.
If you’ve brought kids here today to the show, now would be the time to implement the earmuffs technique....
…….I don’t win because of desire. I win because of skill, and I dominate because of a purpose. Desire is for bitches. I can beat the desire out of you. Usually when I’m done with someone in the ring, they don’t want to see me again. You can’t fuck with skill, you can’t fuck with someone who wrestles for a purpose. I wrestle to be the best. I’m wrestling now to take back my spot on top of this industry.
I’ve wrestled in three matches so far in the WCF, and as no surprise, I’ve won them all, beating five absolutely horrendous wrestlers in the process. As if it wasn’t a foregone conclusion, I’m coming off a win against Buzzsaw Bundy and Vic for a shot at the Television Title at One. Where I come from the Television Title is nothing but a gimmick; a way for some low-carder to feel important. I guess that’s where we get to Aaron Miles.
I’ve taken the last few days to look back at Aaron’s career here, and…I’m not impressed. Apparently One is the biggest event of the year for WCF, and I’m going into it facing this nameless fuck who thinks the Television Title is worth a damn. The reason he’s so proud of his title? That’s likely to be the highlight of his entire worthless career. That title would be nothing more than a footnote on my long list of accomplishments…
Fly pauses. The crowd begins to cheer again.
Nevermind. I don’t think I even consider it an accomplishment. At this point Miles might as well just hand over the belt to the WCF engravers so they can prep it for me. Someone make sure to tell them it’s Jonny, without an ‘h.’ I haven’t faced a wrestler here yet who is even close to my skill level, hence the confidence. Aaron Miles is going to tell me he’s different, but he’s not. I’m already forced to plea to the WCF management, give me more competition.
This..
Is..
Too..
Easy..
The crowd begins to cheer. Chants start again and Fly takes a second to take them in before continuing.
Step up the competition WCF. I’m already bored. Oh, and no, this fuckin’ battle royal doesn’t cut it. A battle royal against Hunter, Ryan Blake, Jam Willy Jesus, Vic, Switches the Clown, and Aaron Miles? The winner gets a Hardcore Title shot at One? Isn’t that a fuckin’ joke! I’ve already beat Hunter, Blake, and Vic. Switches the Clown got his ass beat before I had a chance to do it last week. Don’t know Jam Willy, sounds a nobody to me. That leaves Aaron Miles, who we’ve already discussed.
This is my competition? THIS!?
This match is a who’s who of the irrelevant stiffs of the WCF. How do these guys even earn a salary? A better question; how many belts do they want me to take at one show? How many blowouts is it going to take to earn a real match? This match does nothing for me. It’s a chance to do more of the same. I figure I might as well use the opportunity to soften Aaron Miles up, as if that’s going to a struggle.
Are you ready for this, Aaron? I’m merciless, unforgiving, and as brutal of a man as you’ll ever come across. I don’t just like to win, I like to make a statement every single time I get into a ring. This is going to hurt, Aaron. I thrive in causing punishment. I don’t know why the powers that be decided to let you into a ring with me before One, but I don’t they’ll allow this to happen again when I’m done with you.
The crowd begins to cheer loudly for Fly, who brings the microphone down to his side. He looks out at the fans and continues talking.
In a few months Aaron Miles will be looking back at these next few weeks, and wondering what happened to him. Right now he’s on a little winning streak, he got his first title, everything is right in the world of Aaron Miles. This is as far as the road goes for him. He’s met the dead end. He’s met me, and it’s all downhill from here.
Fly drops the microphone. The crowd in unison begins to stand and cheer. Fly smiles, ducks under the top rope and jumps down to the outside ring area. He turns and looks up to the skywalk, where a ‘ONE’ countdown is hanging. Fly points at it and nods his head. He turns and begins walking up the ramp. The scene fades out as he reaches the stage and exits to the backstage area.
END
We need to talk.
These words are spoken as the scene fades in. We are in New York City in August, 2010. It’s a busy morning on the streets of the biggest city in the United States. Cars are seemingly endlessly backed up from streetlights, and patrons walking on the street are scurrying about at a busy pace; except one man. This man is staring into the backseat of a black Lincoln Town Car parked on the curb. We fade in on this scene as the man reaches for the door handle to the car, and enters the backseat. Our scene re-emerges inside the car.
Inside the car is a driver, a middle aged man wearing black sunglasses and a black suit. There is one identically dressed man in the backseat and he is sitting with the man we just seen enter the car from the street. Our camera angle would lead us to believe that there is nobody sitting in the passenger seat of the car. The car begins to move from the curb where it was parked into the endless New York City traffic. The man we seen on the street begins the conversation.
Agent Gregory, what do I owe this pleasure?
We can clearly tell now that the man in the backseat dressed in a black suit with black sunglasses is Agent Gregory, last seen in The Bigger Threat at Jonny Fly’s witness protection house.
Jonny Fly has escaped.
These words seem to take the man from the street aback. He scoffs at Agent Gregory, folds his hands, and responds.
What the hell do I pay you for?
I’ve done everything your family has asked. I redirected the investigation into your family, and turned my superiors against Fly. He escaped witness protection while under 24 hour surveillance.
How does a man escape 24 hour surveillance?
We had cars parked down the street and at all exit points from the house. He just...disappeared.
The man opposite of Agent Gregory leans in and mutters:
Men don’t just disappear. The problem is he was just smarter than you. You’ve put my whole family in jeopardy. Do you have any idea where he is?
We don’t know where he is, but we can assume he’ll be heading back to New York.
The man leans back in his seat shaking his head.
This is a problem, Agent Gregory. It’s your problem to fix. If you fail, you know exactly what is going to happen to you. Find Fly and end this forever. You have the resources of the entire FBI at your disposal. There are no excuses for failure. Now, let me out of this car.
The car pulls over. The man reaches for the handle to the car and opens the door. He steps outside and before closing the door comments one last time to Agent Gregory.
I better see an obituary for Jonny Fly in my morning paper in 48 hours.
The man closes the door and the car pulls back onto the street and drives away in the distance. The camera stays with the man who has exited the car and watches as he takes out his cell phone. He dials a number and then waits for the other end to answer. We zoom in so that we can hear the voice on the other end of the line.
Hello?
It’s John Ridder, please patch me through to my father.
The man, John Ridder, begins to walk down the street; we follow along. There is a long pause on the other end of the line and finally a voice comes over the phone. The voice isn’t that of John Ridder’s father, Jack Ridder, one of New York’s most brutal crime lords, it’s that of someone else..
Hello, John. It’s been too long.
John Ridder stops dead in his tracks and yells out..
No! NO!
Yes, John. Yes.
Listen to me, motherfucker…
No! You listen to me. Your father is at my knees right now begging for mercy, crying like the little bitch he is. You’re never going to see him alive again, John. That’s the first thing you need to come to grips with. It’s up to you how he dies.
Goddammit, Fly, I’m going to rip you apart..
You’re not focused, John. Focus. Your father is depending on it. I need to know exactly who in the FBI your family has paid off. Your dad doesn’t know, unfortunately. He has estimated it as less than ten agents, which is interesting because that’s the exact number of fingers he has.
What? What are you talking about?
For every name you give me you spare your dad one finger.
You fucking ignorant nothing. There is nowhere you can run from me. My family owns this city. You’ll be dead before you step foot on the street outside if you touch him.
John, I’m beginning to worry you’re not going to be able to come through for your dad. Do you really want the man who built your empire to be seen on the front page of the newspaper without any fingers, toes, ears, lips, nose, or eyes. That’s how this is going to work. I need information. Now, focus, who have you paid off?
You know I’m not going to give you that information.
I wish you were seeing this, John.
All of a sudden a loud scream is heard. Muffled shouting is all that can be heard for ten seconds before the other end goes silent.
Do you know what I did for four years in witness protection, John? I read. I read a lot. I learned a lot. In 2009 the swine flu epidemic hit this country, and come to find out the shot that we gave to prevent people from getting the flu, yea, a certain strand of it actually caused paralysis. Imagine being awake, being able to feel everything, and not being able to move.
What are you talking about you sick fuck?
I can’t have your father screaming for mercy every time I cut off one of his fingers, you know? He’s going to attract too much attention. So, you will be thrilled to know that your father has now been injected with that vaccine and he is currently doing his best interpretation of a real-life vegetable. This will allow us to continue without interruption.
I swear to god, Jonny, the pain you think you’re causing him will be nothing compared to what I do to you. Don’t forget that you’re the one who went into hiding. We could have finished our affairs out like men.
Like men? Your operation is run by a 70 year old man who has spent the last 30 minutes slobbering over my shoes, crying for my forgiveness. Now, GIVE...ME…WHAT…I…WANT!
He wouldn’t want me to.
I’m not so sure.
A cracking sound is heard.
8 fingers left, and he doesn’t look very happy about it.
You’re not the only one with leverage here, Jonny. I know what burns inside of you. I know the real reason you went to the FBI. I know why you are back here in New York. You want your life back, you want to wrestle again. You want your fame and fortune. I’ll make you a one-time offer. I’ll leave you alone forever, just let him go. You can have it all back, and you know I can make that happen.
There is a long pause on the other end of the phone before Fly states…
I’m sorry, what did you say? I was too busy cutting Jack here’s hand down to a nub. It’s actually kind of funny to look at. One hand with 5 fingers, one hand with zero.
That’s it, Fly. I’m done with this conversation. Do your worst with him, he was never under any impression he was going to go out glamorously. That’s the life we choose to live. I’ll have my revenge, though. I'm coming for you.
The man on the street throws his phone to the ground, stomps on it, and then begins walking down the street out of the view of the scene.
[End Flashback]
[Present Day]
Dressed in a suit and tie, Jonny Fly sits silently in his locker room in the backstage area of a WCF dark show. The door to Fly’s locker room is opened, and a staffer walks inside. Fly looks up to greet him.
Jonny, you’re up.
Fly smiles, gets up from his seat, and exits the room. Our scene reemerges inside the arena. The ring is empty, and the crowd is anxiously awaiting the next act. The lights in the arena suddenly go out. Blackness is all that prevails around as the crowd begins to cheer. After a few seconds, blue strobes emerge around the stage zooming around in no particular pattern. The strobes center themselves onto the stage illuminating the silhouette of a man.
“The Champ” begins playing and the crowd explodes from their seats. The lights flicker in conjunction with pyros shooting upward. The lights come on and Jonny Fly is seen standing of the stage. Fly smiles out at the crowd and begins walking down the ramp slapping hands with fans all the way down to the ring area. He uses the ring steps to elevate himself into the ring. The WCF ring announcer hands him a microphone and then exits the ring. Fly walks around the ring looking out to the crowd before pausing and bringing the microphone to his lips.
Hello, WCF.
Fly, a longtime favorite of wrestling fans, receives a “Jonny – Fly, Jonny –Fly” chant. Fly waves his hand for the fans to calm down.
Since I’ve begun here with WCF I haven’t had a chance to come out here and talk. This used to be my favorite aspect of being a wrestler, the ability to just come out here in front of all of you and talk about what’s on my mind.
The crowd picks up its chant again. Fly continues.
A wrestler once told me that all I needed to win matches was desire.
The crowd begins to quiet down a bit. Fly pauses as he walks around the ring looking out at the thousands in attendance. He smiles, and then continues.
Of course, this particular wrestler was an older guy, hanging on to the last moments of his career. Like so many he thought he could just will himself to victory. All he had to do was…want it.
Fly scoffs and shakes his head.
If you’ve brought kids here today to the show, now would be the time to implement the earmuffs technique....
…….I don’t win because of desire. I win because of skill, and I dominate because of a purpose. Desire is for bitches. I can beat the desire out of you. Usually when I’m done with someone in the ring, they don’t want to see me again. You can’t fuck with skill, you can’t fuck with someone who wrestles for a purpose. I wrestle to be the best. I’m wrestling now to take back my spot on top of this industry.
I’ve wrestled in three matches so far in the WCF, and as no surprise, I’ve won them all, beating five absolutely horrendous wrestlers in the process. As if it wasn’t a foregone conclusion, I’m coming off a win against Buzzsaw Bundy and Vic for a shot at the Television Title at One. Where I come from the Television Title is nothing but a gimmick; a way for some low-carder to feel important. I guess that’s where we get to Aaron Miles.
I’ve taken the last few days to look back at Aaron’s career here, and…I’m not impressed. Apparently One is the biggest event of the year for WCF, and I’m going into it facing this nameless fuck who thinks the Television Title is worth a damn. The reason he’s so proud of his title? That’s likely to be the highlight of his entire worthless career. That title would be nothing more than a footnote on my long list of accomplishments…
Fly pauses. The crowd begins to cheer again.
Nevermind. I don’t think I even consider it an accomplishment. At this point Miles might as well just hand over the belt to the WCF engravers so they can prep it for me. Someone make sure to tell them it’s Jonny, without an ‘h.’ I haven’t faced a wrestler here yet who is even close to my skill level, hence the confidence. Aaron Miles is going to tell me he’s different, but he’s not. I’m already forced to plea to the WCF management, give me more competition.
This..
Is..
Too..
Easy..
The crowd begins to cheer. Chants start again and Fly takes a second to take them in before continuing.
Step up the competition WCF. I’m already bored. Oh, and no, this fuckin’ battle royal doesn’t cut it. A battle royal against Hunter, Ryan Blake, Jam Willy Jesus, Vic, Switches the Clown, and Aaron Miles? The winner gets a Hardcore Title shot at One? Isn’t that a fuckin’ joke! I’ve already beat Hunter, Blake, and Vic. Switches the Clown got his ass beat before I had a chance to do it last week. Don’t know Jam Willy, sounds a nobody to me. That leaves Aaron Miles, who we’ve already discussed.
This is my competition? THIS!?
This match is a who’s who of the irrelevant stiffs of the WCF. How do these guys even earn a salary? A better question; how many belts do they want me to take at one show? How many blowouts is it going to take to earn a real match? This match does nothing for me. It’s a chance to do more of the same. I figure I might as well use the opportunity to soften Aaron Miles up, as if that’s going to a struggle.
Are you ready for this, Aaron? I’m merciless, unforgiving, and as brutal of a man as you’ll ever come across. I don’t just like to win, I like to make a statement every single time I get into a ring. This is going to hurt, Aaron. I thrive in causing punishment. I don’t know why the powers that be decided to let you into a ring with me before One, but I don’t they’ll allow this to happen again when I’m done with you.
The crowd begins to cheer loudly for Fly, who brings the microphone down to his side. He looks out at the fans and continues talking.
In a few months Aaron Miles will be looking back at these next few weeks, and wondering what happened to him. Right now he’s on a little winning streak, he got his first title, everything is right in the world of Aaron Miles. This is as far as the road goes for him. He’s met the dead end. He’s met me, and it’s all downhill from here.
Fly drops the microphone. The crowd in unison begins to stand and cheer. Fly smiles, ducks under the top rope and jumps down to the outside ring area. He turns and looks up to the skywalk, where a ‘ONE’ countdown is hanging. Fly points at it and nods his head. He turns and begins walking up the ramp. The scene fades out as he reaches the stage and exits to the backstage area.
END
