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Post by Devlin Knight. on Aug 6, 2022 22:19:59 GMT
Monday, July 25th, 2022 - Sydney Australia. Qudos Bank Arena parking lot.
Fred Debonair strolls through the parking lot, dressed in a pair of black sneakers, black jeans and a white hooded top, he has a kit back slung over his shoulder and a smirk on his face as he spots her standing by his rental, Aurora. He unlocks the car with the key-fob and she opens the door allowing him to throw his kit bag in the back. He stands and opens his arms as if to “present” himself.
Aurora: ”So, this is who you are, eh? Wrestling magnifico extraordinaire…?”
Fred: ”So wait, when you said you didn’t know who I was, or what I did you were being genuine?”
Aurora: ”Of course I didn’t. I actually just figured you were a hired goon for the Moran’s or something…”
Fred grins as he now opens the passenger side door, for Aurora and she climbs inside as Fred walks around to the drivers door, opens it and jumps inside. He starts the car and they begin to pull away from the arena.
Fred: ”Wouldn’t quite say hired goon, we’re working together I suppose you could say… But no this is who and what I am. So do you live far from here, I can drop you off before going back to my hotel?”
Aurora: ”Well I’m definitely not ready to sleep yet, I know a nice little bar around the corner that’s NOT Jezebel, we could go chat a little more right?”
Fred: ”I’m game, just tell me where I need to go?”
Fred pumps the gas on the car as Aurora directs him toward the city, before the scene begins to descend into darkness…
…When we reopen, Fred and Aurora are in a booth at one of the hottest clubs in Sydney, the MVP Nightclub. The DJ is playing some modern day Hip-Hop and there are people dancing around the booth as they drink their drinks. Having to shout a little to be heard.
Aurora: So that guy, the one who’s eyes you raked and then smacked in the bollocks, that was -“
Fred: ”My son, Tyler, yeah…”
Aurora: ”So what’s the situation? Shouldn’t you guys be on the same side or something?”
Fred: ”Long story short, no. The boy is a psychopath. I don’t expect you to know the situation but he cost me a lot growing up, including my wife and marriage… Yes I was married before, before you begin to ask, but it was a long while back we’re since divorced and I didn’t even see her during the proceedings. Is, that gonna be an issue?”
Aurora: ”An issue for what, exactly?”
Fred: ”Oh, nothing at all, just people tend to get a bit funny when I mention having once been married.”
Aurora: ”People, or girls?”
Fred smirks through his bottle that has been brought to the table. He rolls his eyes as Aurora laughs.
Fred: ”Both actually, haven’t you seen that guy eyeing me up by the bar?”
Aurora: ”Which guy? Oh, the cute one who looks completely out of place here?”
Fred: ”Yep, that’s the one.”
Aurora: ”The one with the wavy fringe and suit?”
Fred: ”The very same, why you bothered?”
Aurora: ”Oh I’m not bothered, he’s just walking this way.”
Fred: ”He’s what?!”
Fred spins around and sees the guy in the suit that he and Aurora are speaking about, standing right in front of him and sticks out his hand.
Suit: ”Hi, excuse me are you… Fred Debonair?”
Fred: ”Yes, yes I am… What can I do you for, champ?”
Fred sticks his own hand out to shake the guys. The suits other hand comes out of his pocket and the envelope slaps Fred’s palm.
Suit: ”You’ve been served. Have a good night.”
The man turns to walk, leaving Fred and Aurora just sitting there staring at the envelope. Fred’s head snaps up.
Fred: ”Hey buddy! That was an American accent I heard. Did you legit travel all the way over here to serve me this?!”
Suit: ”I did indeed…”
Fred: ”…Touché, kudos!”
Fred smirks and raises his bottle at the somewhat confused process server, who turns and exits the club. Aurora watches him confused as he rips open the envelope and begins to read the papers.
Fred: ”Son of a bitch!”
Aurora: ”What? What is it?”
Fred: ”It’s my old partner, Eddie…”
Aurora: ”Munson?!”
Fred: ”Eh? No?”
Aurora: ”The Eagle?”
Fred: ”The guy with the big goggles? No! Okay, his name was Eddie Suavero and he was someone I grew up with in New York and when I had my family and moved out to LA, he joined me and we started a business together. It was called Suave and Debonair Enterprises he also co-owned a Wrestling Promotion with me called the New York Wrestling Alliance. One year we got into it and he “left” the company and the Promotion but now he’s saying he’s suing me for half the company?!”
Aurora: ”Oh wow, that’s some story! Can he do that though?”
Fred: ”I mean, the company coming solely to me was completely above board and the Wrestling Promotion was mine on paper and in name anyway, but I’ve got to go to a hearing about it in a couple of weeks…”
Aurora: ”So do you th…-“
Fred: ”I’m sorry Aurora I really don’t wanna talk about it…”
Aurora: ”Do you wanna just come back to mine and exorcise that frustration then?”
Fred: ”Yes, yes I do.”
Fred downs what’s left of this drink and the two get up, leaving the club quite quickly as the scene dissolves…
The moonlight shining through the room casts a shadow on Aurora as she stands at her balcony wearing nothing but a pair of silk panties and a thin silk sheet that had been used as the duvet draped around her slender form. She’s smoking what appears to be a blunt and as the smell enters the room and the bed behind her, it triggers something in a sleeping Fred Debonair that arouses him awake. He rolls over wearing just a pair of black Calvin Kelin boxers and squints.
Fred: ”Ahh, now I recognise you a little better.”
Aurora: ”Oh haha, your material is running a little dry, Mr. Debonair.”
She smirks as Fred sits up in the bed and rolls over toward her and the window, standing up and wrapping his arms around her waist as she directs the smoke towards him, he takes the roach end between his teeth.
Fred: ”Well alright, if you’re not ready to come back to bed I can definitely join you and partake in a little bit of recreation… What’s the time by the way?”
Aurora: ”Erm, six twenty… Ahh, what time’s your flight?”
Fred: ”It’s in five hours but I’ve got to get to the airport in less than three.”
Aurora: ”I see…”
Fred: ”Listen, I don’t tend to fly commercial I’ve got my own jet…”
Aurora: ”You do realise we’ve already slept together right?… Like, three times tonight.”
Fred: ”No, what I’m saying is, we wouldn’t have to get you another ticket, just grab your passport…”
Aurora: ”And what? Come with you?”
Fred takes one more toke on the blunt, before handing it back to Aurora and walking into the bathroom. After a minute or two the toilet flushes and he steps out now fully dressed, ruffling his hair.
Fred: ”Why not? What else are you gonna do here? Serve beer and hot wings to perves dressed in panties, high heels and a smile?”
Aurora: ”Youve got a fair point, but the Mor-“
Fred: ”I’ll speak to the Moran brothers. I mean it’s not like you’re going into Witness Protection is it? Look, I’ve got a shipment they want me running to Canada, so I’ll just tell them I’m taking you with me and we’ll work out the rest when we’re there…”
Aurora stands there looking at Fred intently, before she backs away from him but keeping eyes on him. She slowly reaches into a bedside drawer as Fred raises an eyebrow. Slowly her mouth turns upwards into a smirk as she produces her Passport. Fred chuckles and shakes his head as he watches her grab a bag from underneath the bed and beginning to pack, as the scene fades…
Tuesday, July 26th, 2022 - Toronto, Ontario, Canada. A Diner about half a mile from York’s Casino & Resort.
It’s late at night and inside the “Browns 24hr Bar and Grill” (which is really a converted delux caravan), the fluorescent lighting is shading only two patrons. Aurora and Fred Debonair. Aurora is dipping some homemade fries into mayonnaise which came out in some fancy miniature bucket, whilst Fred has his mouth completely surrounding a burger that is full of melted Havarti, smoked bacon jam and truffle and black pepper aioli, all in a brioche bun. He looks up at Aurora smiling.
Fred: ”What?”
Aurora: ”Nothing, I just love seeing a guy enjoy his food, that’s all.”
Fred: ”Then you’re going to fall in love because I can tell you now, there’s never a time I don’t enjoy eating…”
Aurora: ”Is that so? I’ll have to remember that. But anyway, what time’s this meet supposed to be happening?”
Fred looks at his watch, then at the clear night sky above their heads.
Fred: ”Should be now, they’ll be here though don’t worry.”
Aurora: ”So, you’re defending your Tag-Team belts this Monday right? You and Chris…?”
Fred: ”Page, that’s right. We’re taking on some team called The Excellence. I’m guessing Osh, that’s the owner of the promotion, couldn’t find anyone in the tag division worthy so these two new jacks got thrown in. That’s okay though because Chris and myself, we’ll break them off and dismantle them.”
Aurora: ”You said they’re new? They not been around long then?”
Fred: ”Nah, their debut in IIW was against some other newcomers, a British group known as the Hamilton Establishment… They beat them too, but that was more like a debutants dance, then they faced another new group called Supah Sound and won that but honestly? They haven’t had any true challenges like The Welcoming Committee… This week though will show them what getting thrown to the Wolves is all about.”
Aurora puts another fry in her mouth as both of them watch a red pickup truck stop in the parking lot. A couple of men looking like hunters or loggers jump out and Fred shakes his head indicating that’s definitely not who he’s waiting for and grabs his giant cup of Code Red, sucking the straw and licking his lips.
Fred: ”I mean we did kind of already show them what it was about last week when Chris took on Zabian Wells, that’s one of their members, in a one-on-one match, but I’m talking about going whole hog tag action. Them against us, no excuses with everything being left right there in the ring. I mean they really didn’t take Chris’ words serious the other week when he told Zabian that TWC we’re gonna step into the ring this week and shake them off before moving on, to our next challenge. They took us as blaggers and look where it got them…”
Fred fires up his phone and hands it over to Aurora, already clipped onto Chris Page Vs. Zabian Wells from last Mayhem.
Aurora: ”Wow, I was genuinely never a wrestling fan, but the more I watch you guys, the more impressive it becomes!”
Fred: ”Yeah, no opponent is easy but Chris made Wells pay for taking us as comedians and this Monday we’re about to do the same again, collectively. You’ll be there, front row to see it too.”
Aurora: ”Can’t wait… Hey erm, Fred. There’s a guy by the door who got out of that grey Sedan about two minutes ago and he seems to be burning a hole in your back…”
Fred slowly shuffles himself around to look at the man who scarily resembles Christopher Walken. He raises his eyebrows at Fred and tilts his head to the side indicating the outside of the diner. Fred jumps up and looks at Aurora.
Fred: ”This is us, wait here and I’ll come grab you when I’m done.”
Aurora: ”Stuff that, I’m coming with you… People like him don’t concern me…”
Fred begins to walk towards the man, who in turn exits the Diner. Aurora follows him out as we disintegrate into darkness…
…The scene reopens with Fred and Aurora sitting in his rental, the windows down and the smoke floating around the car, as though they’re caught in fog. Fred has his seat back slightly as he tips his head back and sideways toward Aurora in the passenger seat and passes her, a joint.
Fred: ”And that’s basically what happened. The kid was so mentally messed up, none of us could keep him in check. He was becoming more and more paranoid, accusing us all of plotting against him…”
Aurora: ”Wow, that must have been so awkward for you guys…”
Fred: ”Well let me see, I quit wrestling, my wife left me, I opened up a wrestling school but still wasn’t the same… This was all because of Tyler and his behaviour.”
Aurora: ”So you had to stick him in a psychiatric hospital?”
Fred: ”No, not at all… He did that all himself! And this is something he wasn’t able to understand. You see, he genuinely believed that the hospital was some kind of apartment complex and he was moving himself in there. I tried to stop him, to explain but no, he didn’t want to know.”
Aurora: ”Wow… That’s messed up.”
Fred: ”Yeah that ain’t the half of it. When he was discharged they said he was desperate to wrestle, that it was “therapy”. So I got him signed up to IIW and basically once again sacrificed my own career so he could have one and look at the little jerk now, got a World Title shot whilst I’m here battering ease’s for the sake of it…”
Aurora: ”And which is the better of the two?”
Fred: ”Oh this, this by far…”
He laughs as he takes the joint back from Aurora and sits the seat in the upright position.
Aurora: ”So, how did you get involved with the Morans? What’s the John Dory there?”
Fred: ”The… What? Nevermind. To make a long story short, I was born and raised in Hell’s Kitchen, New York. It’s more commonly known as Clinton and is a neighbourhood in Manhattan… It’s full of people like the Morans, Alameddine’s, Hamzy’s and so on and I just grew into that life…”
Aurora: ”So, when did it stop?”
Fred: ”Look around you, doll…”
Aurora: ”Oops, fair point.”
Fred: ”Well, when I got married and had kids I physically removed myself; but you can never stay out honestly…”
Fred passes the blunt back and looks through his phone, he turns to Aurora as he puts it back on the dashboard.
Fred: ”So, according to my phone, there’s a place to crash about ten minutes down the road here, a motel. We’ve got just over a day and a half drive to get back to L.A so probably best we rest up and head off tomorrow morning.”
Aurora: ”That’s fine by me, I could do with some sleep after the jetlag!”
Fred takes a huge draw on the blunt, handing it back to Aurora as he kicks the car into gear and begins to pull back onto the road. The scene slowly begins to dissipate…
Friday, August 5th, 2022 - Los Angeles, CA. Fred Debonair’s $9m mansion in Bel-Air.
The sun is beating down on a lavish swimming pool that is currently occupied by the beautiful Aurora. On a lounger beside the pool sits Fred Debonair, nursing a killer hangover from his night at The Viper Room with his tag partner, Chris Page, the night before. He’s wearing a pair of swim shorts and shades over his eyes and on a table beside him sits a glass of some weird concoction Aurora has made to sedate the headache and nausea, however whether it works or not he doesn’t know, as even the thought of tasting it is making his oesophagus shudder. He tips his head to the side and sits up, as Aurora swims to the poolside, smiling.
Aurora: ”So how you feeling?”
Fred: ”Awful but not as bad as The Excellence are going to feel Monday night, believe me. Man… I cannot believe this is what a few Jamesons, some Jack, Henny and a big fat bong will do to you the next day! I used to be able to rip through that shit like it was water…”
Aurora: ”Well, I mean you are getting on a bit, aren’t ya?”
Fred: ”Hey! You’ve not known me long enough, to be making the old jokes!”
Aurora: ”Oh sweetheart, after some of the things we’ve done together, I think we’re way past that now don’t you?”
Fred: ”Fair point.”
Fred shrugs and smirks as Aurora gets out of the pool. He stands, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her, kissing her on the lips and smacks her ass as she walks by and off toward the house.
Fred: ”Anyway what did you do while I was gone?”
Aurora: ”Honestly? Not much. Used your gym, sauna, jacuzzi… Then watched a chick flick in your cinema downstairs. Oh and made some long distance calls home, that ok?”
Fred: ”Fine by me, this house has had no use since I moved to England for IIW, to be honest…”
Aurora: ”I'm going to make a salad for lunch that sound good?”
Fred nods and gives a thumbs up as Aurora turns to leave. He pulls his shades off, dumping them onto the lounger before diving into the pool. He comes up and runs his hands over his face, before swimming to the opposite side of the pool which has an amazing aesthetic overlooking Los Angeles.
Fred: ”You know this week, I’ve got a very big match, that is to say that Chris Page and myself have a very big match. Okay I can’t lie, I kind of feel like Shaun Hart has done a little bit of damage control here by sticking The Excellence into a match against us for the IIW Tag-Team titles, otherwise it would’ve been another case of bringing in formidable opposition from outside the promotion. The tag division is clearly not what it could be here, and it sucks. But hey The Excellence now have a great opportunity of getting their name on a poster and their reputation is going to rise magnificently just like Zabian Wells’ did last week, because they’re going against me and Page.
Before I talk about how we are going to once again make the tag division prominent, I need to vent some frustration about another title that is currently being degraded and depleted more and more because its “Champion” is not a fighting or defending champion! I am indeed talking about the IIW United Kingdom Championship, yep! Crush is a fraud! I mean I can’t even remember when he won that belt, or who he took it off and I bet if you ask him, he can either.
The point I’m trying to make is, being as The Welcoming Committee are now in charge here, we have an issue with titles going undefended. Now don’t get me wrong, Crush can play skip to my Lou, chasing his gal pal PG-13 around the yard all he wants… But sooner or later that belt is going up for grabs, and he will finally get an opponent that will give him what he deserves. But I am digressing.
Fred swims around and floats on his back, looking up at the brilliant brightness of the sun, not into it of course… He sighs and takes a breath.
Fred: ”Excellence… Noun, the quality of being outstanding or extremely good. So first and foremost Zabian and Jermaine I’ve got you both for fraud! Fraud… Noun, a person or thing intended to deceive others, typically by unjustifiably claiming or being credited with accomplishments or qualities. Ding ding ding! I’ve just nailed you both to a tee! I mean if you guys really wanted to name yourselves something I guess realistic, you should have gone with something like “The Ehhh ok I guess” or “The just slightly above average”. You’re both very good athletes but neither of you are excellent, neither of you reach the levels that Chris Page and myself have touched and surpassed in our careers, gentlemen… And no matter how much you think you’re able to, you’re deceiving yourselves like you’re doing to everybody else with that name.
I said it the other week on Mayhem but the truth is simple and that is nobody can touch me. Nobody can touch The Welcoming Committee. We don’t follow the standards, we set the bar and just as you think you’re getting to our level, we raise that son of a bitch even further! And while we’re tapping that button with our hands you’re looking up, gasping for that one last intake of breath into your swollen lungs realising that we are just a collective mirage ahead of you and you’re never going to be able to keep up… I’ve been longing to be back where I belonged for the longest time and finally I’m there! Finally I’m being recognised for what I’ve done and what I’ve achieved and will continue to achieve in the years to come despite my bastard kid trying to ruin that for me, again!
You see Zabian, Jermaine, what you don’t seem to be calculating is just how easily you both got a shot at The Welcoming Committee and the IIW tag titles. Think about it for a moment okay? You have had two tag team matches and one solo against Page… Okay you won both of your tag matches but did you ever stop to think that just maybe, it was a little bit too easy? No because evidently your brains are not wired the way they ought to be. Let me just clue you in on something… Basically boys the Stadium on Monday, is the Zoo you two are, the meat… Whilst Chris Page and Fred Debonair, we are the Wolves! That’s right, have you not figured it out yet? You are sacrificial lambs, you are being fed directly to the tag-team champions. And whilst you’re sitting there in your little pad watching your previous matches on television or shooting hoops in the yard, you just think you did good, you just think you have earned the shot… Boy, I’m sorry gentlemen.”
Fred jumps up out of the pool and walks back to his lounger, sticking his shades on and wrapping a white cashmere bath robe around himself as he picks up a joint from a glass ashtray on the table. Before he lights it, he picks up Aurora’s awful looking hangover cure and knocks it back, he shudders a little bit shrugs and “hm”s as he realises it’s not all that bad. He lights the joint and takes one long hard drag, keeping it in for a bit, before grinning and allowing the smoke to escape.
Fred: ”There’s no easy way to say this guys, Chris when he spoke of this match before destroying Zabian, was correct. We are going into this match without a care in the world, ok that’s not strictly true, we just don’t care about you… We are going to go in, we are going to wipe the canvas with you, because we can and then we are going to leave. We are going to exit stage left with the belts draped over our shoulders once more and go looking for a fresh new challenge. Because the fact of the matter is this, there are no two people in the world that could take Page and myself on for these belts. There are no two people in the world that could take any combination of TWC members for these belts or otherwise as we are continually proving!
All you have to understand Zabian, Jermaine. All you have to realise, is that what’s gonna happen on Mayhem is you are going to get a warm official welcome to IIW, one that Jenny, Bob Mitchell and their little group, clearly negated to do. Although I would hasten to add it may not be as warm as it probably should be, but at least after that you will understand your place in this promotion. Remember once you’ve had your shot you go to the back of the queue! I hope you ladies are ready, because we are not the Hamilton establishment, we are not super sound. Zombie and you have already tasted what it’s like to be on the end of a welcome Monday night you boys will be put in your place… Get ready, or just stay home!”
Fred takes another drag of the joint as he hears Aurora shouting behind him from the Sun-room kitchen. He smiles as she holds up two salad bowls, stubbing the doobie into the ashtray and walking towards the house… /Fin.
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