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Post by Shaun Hart on Sept 5, 2022 20:19:13 GMT
(After months of uncertainty around the IIW World Championship and a controversial finish we will finally crown a new Champion when The One-Man Dynasty John Cavanagh looks to capture the IIW World Championship finally, but a highly motivated and focused Chris Chronic Page stands in his way. Who will when these two Icons collide?)
Main Event
IIW World Championship Match
Chris Page v John Cavanagh
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Post by The Celtic Club on Sept 11, 2022 1:25:21 GMT
City of Gods, Part I Pine Barrens
Wading River, New York
Unknown Date, Unknown TimeThe scene opens to the sound of crickets chirping, quite the stark contrast to the environment we are usually greeted to on IIW’s Netflix channel. The darkness engulfed the scenery making it nearly impossible to view anything other than the silhouette of a variety of trees. A dim light can be seen approaching from the opposing direction of the camera, the illuminated space slowly growing larger exposing a dirt path, grass, varying forms of vegetation and above all the bark of a cluster of pine trees. The light halts its encroachment and the slight hum of a running car engine can be heard in the distance. The lights remain on as the engine dies, allowing the crickets to once again take over the scene. A door is heard opening and shutting, then another, footsteps follow and a trunk can be heard popping open. The silence is broken when one of the unidentified people begins speaking in a harsh raspy voice.Raspy Man: You sure this is a good enough spot?The man’s raspy voice, a prize won from decades of chain smoking Lucky Strikes, blends in perfectly in the nearly silent woodlands. The face and body of the man still unidentified, the viewer is left with only the illuminated area and their imagination to piece together the situation.Unidentified Man: Fugghedaboutit! We drove all this fucking way and you’re asking me now if this is a good enough spot? Pull the miserable shit out!The second voice, another male, was much deeper and pronounced. His voice seemed to command a level of respect with the authority it possessed. It traveled in the woods, almost echoing as if the two men were standing in a cave. As if the man was God himself the crickets seemed to silence, as if even the insects of nature knew this was a man not to be trifled with. The raspy voice man can be heard off camera, huffing and puffing, a clunking noise is heard as if the man is trying to move something–the question became what was this “something”?Unidentified Man: How long is this gonna take you stoonad? Come on, move this piece of shit!The raspy voice man chimes in nearly out of breath; there is a pause between each word muttered.
Raspy Voice: Hey…th…this…it’s…dead…weii…weight, ya know?A thunderous thud is heard, that something the raspy voiced man had found himself struggling with must have just hit against the Earth.
Unidentified Man: Hey, good thing that mutt ain’t fragile, huh?The deep voiced man laughed at his own joke, a faint laugh was then produced by the raspy voice man but it was clear that the laugh was not a natural one–it was clear this man was a subordinate who was doing everything he could to be “in good” with his boss.Unidentified Man: You wouldn’t be struggling so much if it wasn’t for them Luckys you’re always smoking.Whatever the “something” is, it was clear it was on the move as sound was being produced and it sounded as if something was creating friction by sliding across the dirt. The huffing and puffing continued, then it paused for a moment. The raspy voice man was heard taking a deep breath before his voice was heard again, only this time, it was a bit louder as if he had moved closer to the camera.Raspy Voice: What can I say, it’s how I got my name, right?Unidentified Man: Yeah, you seem to be really fucking Lucky right now.
Lucky: Fughedaboutit! That’s The Life.The sliding sound continued, only for a few more moments before a diminutive man, maybe five foot seven, stepped into frame. His face was unidentified as it was turned to the camera but his narrow shoulders only helped to further accentuate his small stature. That’s when it happened, that’s when the “something” came into view. The large black bag thudded down from the side held by the raspy voiced man. The small man casually walked off of camera prior to exposing his face. He could be heard breathing heavily, then the sound of a Bic lighter being flicked was heard.
Lucky: Now that’s the fucking stuff. Let’s get back home, I wanna stop by my goomah’s after all this shit.Unidentified Man: I hear that, Luck.The footsteps pick up as the camera focuses on the black bag that was partially visible to the camera. The sounds of car doors opening and closing repeated and the engine fired up shortly after. The lights began to slowly disappear, less and less of the woodlands were shown but before they could disappear completely two racoons could be seen prancing towards the black bag, they began to claw at it as the scene cut. John Cavanagh’s Apartment
Hell’s Kitchen, New York
Wednesday morning, September 7thA blonde haired woman stood in front of a stove, her hair up in a bun, a tight yet faded shirt across her torso leading down to workout shorts on her lower half. There stood the lovely Shannon Riley, by far the most attractive member of the quartet known as The Celtic Club, spatula in hand and a frying pan filled with scrambled eggs. To her side stood her man, “The One Man Dynasty” himself, John Cavanagh. John yawned and tried to shake off the morning tiredness, I guess that’s something that happens to affect everyone. The blonde haired Irishman stared down towards the coffee pot that was completing its daily brew. He looked over to his woman and smiled.
John Cavanagh: It’s good to be back home, babe, I really gotta soak some of this up before I make that trip to Red Alert.Shannon Riley: Yeah, soak it up but make sure you keep doing what you have to do to get yourself ready. I don’t want to deal with another reign of terror like the last time you had a World Title match.John smirked, Shannon always knew she could be as blunt as she wanted with John. They were a team, a team that needed to make sure they had their game plan together. Shannon was doing her part, she always had, supportive as could be and always willing to take care of John’s wounds–whether they be physical or mental. John Cavanagh: I mean, if Page is serious about keeping this a straight up singles match and he leaves his little gang of misfits in the back, I don’t see Fred Debonair getting involved.Shannon shot a look at John as if she was saying “stop with your bullshit”. She shook her head and motioned towards the cabinet. John opened it up to grab two plates, he handed them to Shannon and then grabbed two cups for the coffee.Shannon Riley: Hey, asshole, don’t play around like you only went on that run because of Fred getting involved. If Fred got involved but you still beat Jake E. Dangerously I’m sure there would have been quite a bit less hell raised afterwards.John began to pour the coffee into the two cups as Shannon began scraping the eggs onto the two plates. John chuckled a bit at Shannon’s comment, he knew she was right, but he also knew that hell would have still been raised. Fred had been a thorn in his side before, he became one again and believe it or not, somehow, he is connected to the new thorn in John’s side–Chris Page.John Cavanagh: I should have ended Fred’s career back in Fearless Championship Wrestling and then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.Shannon winked at John.Shannon Riley: Shoulda, coulda, woulda babe…you didn’t.John shook his head and rolled his eyes, even power couples can’t always agree on everything. Shannon Riley: I’m serious, I know you’ve been busting your ass in the gym and watching any matches of Page’s that you can find but you really need to make sure you bring the belt back this time. I don’t want to have to make sure you don’t kill someone…again.
Kill? That’s all John heard because his attention had been snatched away from the dime piece that sat next to him at their kitchen table. His face drew a bit confused as he stared off into the television in the background. It was a news station, a middle aged male reporter in a gray suit with a piss poor job of a combover to hide his bald spot stood with a News 12 microphone in front of his face. The text beneath the man read “Body of Manhattan Gangster Found in Long Island”. Cavanagh quickly reached for the remote on the table and turned up the volume. Shannon looked a little annoyed but rather than arguing she rolled her eyes.
Shannon Riley: Eat your eggs before they get cold! Don’t make me act like a mom.John didn’t register her comment, he heard Shannon but had no idea what she said.John Cavanagh: Yeah, yeah, ok, love you.
Shannon looked confused until she took a gander at the look of bewilderment present on the face of Johnnie Cav. She looked towards the television and read the headline displayed at the bottom of the screen, now she understood. The reporter's voice could now be heard.News Reporter: Yes, it’s quite the gruesome scene out here in Wading River. A quiet, affluent town on the East End of Long Island has been rocked to its foundation this morning. Locals have been complaining for months regarding illegal dumping in the protected preserve called the Pine Barrens. This has been a major issue and Suffolk County Sheriff’s Office has stated that they are working on catching those responsible, however, this morning things took a major turn for the worst. A local man went out hiking early this morning and made the disturbing discovery of a ripped open garbage bag…containing the corpse of a New York gangster.A photo flashed in the upper right hand corner of the television screen, an immaculately dressed man with a clean shaven face, slicked back dirty blonde hair “Patrick O’Shea” written beneath the picture.News Reporter: This is Patrick O’Shea, better known to the criminal underworld as “Paddy Knuckles” from his years spent as an amateur boxer. Mr. O’Shea’s career was cut short due to an ACL injury and fell in with the wrong crowd. O’Shea was a resident of Clinton, New York, a neighborhood that had previously been called Hell’s Kitchen. Authorities from the 10th Precinct stated that O’Shea was a throwback to the area’s past, one of only a handful of thugs remaining from the neighborhood’s gorey past. Authorities stated that “Paddy Knuckles” was known to frequent Kline’s Gym and The Blarney Stone Pub & Grill, two establishments that authorities say are “the remnants of the New York Irish Mob”. The television screen goes black, the camera pans back to John and Shannon. John’s puzzled expression has yet to completely disappear but it is clear that anger is overcoming the confusion. His mind was racing a million miles a minute, one hundred questions raced through his brain with each passing second–why Paddy? Who did it? Why did they do it? How? What do we have to do now? Is Trig ok? Is Andy safe? Are they after me? Shannon rubbed him on his back, she had a sixth sense for knowing when he was having a problem but this expression was so blatantly obvious that someone as idiotic as Chris Page could even interpret it correctly.Shannon Riley: Babe, it’s ok, focus…John Cavanagh: OK? I WENT TO FUCKING SCHOOL WITH HIM!Shannon Riley: John, I know, I’m sorry, I should have said it differently. It’s not ok, but, you just, you just…John Cavanagh: Need to focus?! I need to focus on getting my ass ready to knock Chris Page’s teeth down his goddamn throat, now I gotta focus on helping get this poor asshole’s funeral and wake together and figure out who the hell did all this! Yeah, I’d say I’m gonna have to hit the pavement running and focus…that’s for shit sure.Shannon took a deep breath. Her mother always warned her getting involved with one of the Cavanagh sons wasn’t going to be an easy life. Their father was a neighborhood legend among anyone who was around for his reign, those who remained loved John partially due to his father. The thing was, Shannon knew she was cut out for it, she was strong enough for this.Shannon Riley: Just, please, don’t do anything stupid. You know Paddy would want you clear headed.John picked up his coffee, the steam still rising from the elixir of the gods. John chugged part of the cup, picked up a fork and took a few quick bites of the eggs then chugged the rest of the coffee. Johnnie nodded his head up and down with Shannon’s previous statement taking the forefront.John Cavanagh: I won’t, don’t worry. I gotta go babe, work calls. If something happens to me, you know who to get in touch with, right?Shannon shook her head.Shannon Riley: Don’t say that kind of shit, you know I know and you know I hate when you talk like that!The Irishman sprung up from his chair after shrugging his shoulders and walked towards the door, grabbing his keys from the counter in a hurry.Shannon Riley: Love you, babe.John paused as he opened the door, he looked at Shannon before he left. He might not ever tell her, but he was fully aware that each time he left that apartment–it could be the last time he sees her.John Cavanagh: Love you, too.The door swung open, John walked out and the door shut swiftly behind him. Shannon sat there at the table, a nervous look on her face. She knew what she signed up for alright, but that doesn’t mean she was enamored with every waking moment of it. Like her mother said, this was a tough life…in and out of the ring. Shannon shook off her nerves as the scene cut to static.
The Docks
Hell’s Kitchen, New York
Wednesday afternoon, September 7th
The scene reopens to the caw of seagulls that can be seen flying across the Hudson River until the USS Intrepid comes into view in the far off background, closer to the frame stood the blonde haired, blue eyed Irishman that grew up in this very neighborhood.
The overcast sky only added to the gloomy mood that John currently found himself in. He had to confront the reality of his life at the moment–he had two very big, yet very different problems. The newer conundrum had creeped into John’s life earlier this morning but the first problem had been festering for months. That problem was multifaceted but the primary part of it was a man named Chris Page. John leaned up against a guardrail, leaving his back to the Hudson. John took a breath and began to speak.John Cavanagh: We all have a beginning. Funny to think that the world’s greatest power started as thirteen small colonies of the previous greatest power. A bit ironic that one of those thirteen colonies’ birth was heavily facilitated by the river to my back. That colony was called New Amsterdam by the Dutch and would later be renamed to New York by the British. For the less knowledgeable New York would grow to become the financial capital of the world and one of the reasons why the United States is such a powerhouse. New York is, well, for lack of a better term it's a bitch. This City is beautiful, it has everything in the world to offer its inhabitants but at the same time, it’s an AIDS infested whore, harboring all of the dangers that can lead you to destroy yourself. The City where a young John Cavanagh grew into the man you see before you today. All of the good and bad, every triumph and each tragedy have shaped and molded me into the vicious bastard that will be fighting for the most prestigious prize in all of professional wrestling, the IIW World Heavyweight Championship, in about a week and a half at Red Alert. Every decision that I have had the pleasure of making during my lifetime has taught me all of the lessons that have led me to this very spot in the history of the IIW. Every step I walked, breath I took, adversary I hurt–they have led me to this night. The night when good old Johnnie Cav walks into an IIW show with an opportunity to hold the most prestigious prize in our business as my own. The night when the IIW’s final boss finally has his moment to shine. The night that I told the world was guaranteed to happen the moment Osh Vaughan signed me to a contract–John Cavanagh, the new IIW World Heavyweight Champion. Now that right there? That is some serious music to my ears. In the same breath, it must sound like a living nightmare to Chris Page and the rest of his little latchkeys that follow him around like they’re rabbits and he’s got a carrot falling out of his ass. I wonder, what will truly happen regarding Chris Page and his little band of traveling misfits after next Sunday night? Will Chris and his buddies be able to bounce back and catch their balance? Will they land standing on their feet? Please don’t take the time to answer those rhetorical questions, Chris, not only do I not want to hear that wretched sound produced by those vocal chords of yours but your answers are of little to no importance. Why in the blue hell should I give a fiddling fuck about your opinion? In what upside down, otherside of the Milky Way type of world do the thoughts produced in your putrid mind hold any weight to Johnnie Cav? What, you think because no one before me left you laying on your back that I’m supposed to be impressed? Or is this air of douchebag you walk around with because no one has defeated you here in the IIW? You think you come with a gang of shitheads loyal to their one true “god” Chris Page and I’m going to fall and cower? Hm, buddy, you’ve got no idea the type of individual you’re taking a gander at. You haven’t the slightest idea the amount of senseless acts of violence this sick little puppy is able to commit. You don’t fully comprehend what the drive and determination of a street kid from the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple can accomplish. For all of your Big Billy Badass talk, it seems as if you are walking into this battle of the titans with one eye open and one eyed closed. I swear, it’s almost as if “Chronic” Chris Page swears on his mother’s soul that he’s got this match in the bag at Red Alert.The One Man Dynasty shrugged his shoulders and took a breath while he turned his head slightly to the right, taking in the side view of the Hudson momentarily John thought about the lunacy of anyone having a match “in the bag” when their opponent was Johnnie Cav. There was only one logical explanation…John Cavanagh: Chris Page claims that he wants this one to be a straight up one on one wrestling match. He wants to prove he can beat me when it matters the most without help and that sounds so goddamn noble that it makes my stomach turn! Then I remember that it’s all a bullshit vail, some narrative that Chris Page and Shaun Hart are doing their absolute best to control. A story that these two partners in crime are dying to see play out. They were so close, they could taste it, they were able to feel their story at the tip of their fingers and then all of a sudden this big bad potato eating mick from Hell’s Kitchen came back to the yard from solitary and the shit started to hit the fan, didn’t it? All of a sudden, everything started to look not so certain to our fearless interim leader and his lap dog–or do I have those roles reversed? Doesn’t matter, I give zero fucks. The heist of the century, and with us almost being a quarter of the way through it nowadays that statement is actually beginning to carry a significant amount of weight. The night The Welcoming Committee was meant to put a silk hat on a pig and hand the IIW World Championship to an undeserving schmuck by the name of Justin York, everybody’s favorite shithead Shaun Hart even proceeded to book himself as the special guest referee. All of this in an attempt to ensure that it would be Chris Page and Justin York for the IIW World Championship next Sunday night at Red Alert. On paper, it’s something to admire, really, especially when you’re talking to a guy from my kind of background. If it all would have worked out for you mutts you could almost consider it on par with Henry Hill, Jimmy Burke and the Lufthansa Heist but unfortunately for you twat waffles that just ain’t an option now. Walking around this place like your shit don’t stink, claiming your superiority even when it's painfully obvious that you are not, all of that shit ends next Sunday at Red Alert. You have been sitting around here, bouncing your plans for IIW dominance off of your buddies during one of your post-show circle jerks for long enough, buddy. All of us, from the tippity top of this promotion all the way to the newest pups have been cursed with hearing your wretched refuse for long enough. It’s time for the Irishman to take the garbage down to the curb and let somebody pick that shit up and put it in a dump…the perfect spot for Chris Page…a garbage dump on Staten Island or maybe a car compactor out in Dirty Jerz. Whatever the final resting spot may be, that is the place this prick truly belongs–not here in the IIW. Chris Page, Shaun Hart, Fred Debonair, the entire goddamn gang might think that they’re smarter than this Irishman but I’m not so easy to outsmart.The leader of The Celtic Club pointed to his temple, it had been a way of referencing your mental capabilities for centuries, however, it could also have another meaning–a target. John had joined the IIW after First Class Pro Wrestling shut its doors. Johnnie Cav wasn’t exactly the type of guy to rely on past accomplishments and what he did in other promotions to toot his horn, but, seeing as how it had become a calling card of the Enterprise…he figured why the hell not bring it up. If the past accomplishments of this douchebag mattered, so should his.John Cavanagh: Now, while you and your miscreants have been trying to figure out a way to monopolize all of the championship gold in this promotion, I’ve had a little bit of time to do some reflecting. Now, Chris Page built up his brand that he’s so proud of and did what exactly? Ding ding ding!!! That’s right, we’ve got a goddamn winner…he brought himself and his brand to the IIW. OK, not a bad idea, move yourself away from the little pricks you’ve already dominated and make an attempt to dominate another promotion. Can’t blame you on that one, it's something that I’ve done plenty of times in my career. As a matter of fact, since all of a sudden what people did elsewhere is viewed as interesting to some of our IIW viewers, I’ll give this Mo Mo a little bit of a rundown…don’t worry it will be the SparkNotes version as I might actually have a few others things to attend to in life rather than “building my brand”. While Chris Page was off gassing up some other promoter, Johnnie Cav was running the show in First Class Pro Wrestling. Do you give a shit? Probably not. Have you ever heard of it? I don’t give a shit, because guess what, I never heard of your bitchass until you decided to stick your nose in my business. But do you know who heard about First Class Pro Wrestling? This guy named Jonny C, maybe you’ve heard of him he is kind of a former IIW World Champion–a title you seem to have wet dreams to on a nightly basis. Some other guy named Osh Vaughan? Yeah, he heard of it too…he even gave it a go there but some guy named Andy Donahue Pillmanized his ankle. Jonny C? One of the legends around this place…he did everything he could to take the crown off of my head over there and, ya know what, he failed. A few other members of the IIW roster also found their way to the FCPW, they signed contracts, had a match or two and then all of a sudden, Osh came back to buy the promotion. With that being said, that’s when the bidding war began. That’s when Osh Vaughan opened up his checkbook and mortgaged his family’s future to make sure he had the absolute BEST talent that this sport had to offer as close to Day One as possible. Now, Chris, where the fuck where you when Osh was assembling his army of wrestlers? Oh yeah, you were too busy keying up your next Tweet or recording your pompous ass in some bullshit Podcast to build up the Chris Page brand. This guy has an ego the size of Russia, he needs the approval of the masses, he needs to know that people know his name even if they never shared a locker room with him and the sad part about it all? He doesn’t even realize that the only people that give a shit about him and his miserable opinions are the same people he surrounds himself with. And, if y’all didn’t notice it yet because you’re either living under a rock or you need to wear headphones to remind you to breathe, Chris Page is extremely well versed in surrounding himself with stand up guys. Ya know, the type of guys who don’t just up and leave once they realize how tough the competition is in their new home. Chris Page only encircles himself with the type of athletes that know how to get the job done…they’d never run away from a problem…hell, they’d never be the cause of the problem. Now, before Christopher starts to feel an erection build in his pants that someone actually recognizes his skill–I just wanted to inform you that there was a little, of to hell with it, there was a whole lot of sarcasm in those statements. Not a soul living, other than your bastardized version of The Four Horsemen, holds you in high esteem. Sure, you can maintain your little online following, but, let’s face it, the jerk offs who follow your ass and listen to your rambles religiously–they’re all the same type of person. You ever seen the photo of that dude that takes extremely awkward photos with women like Becky Lynch? Wait, actually, I forgot, IIW has a graphics department, so, guys in the truck…can you toss that image up on the screen for us all…
The blue eyed Irishman began to rub the palms of his hands back and forth, the friction reminding him of the heat that had been simmering between Page and himself since the moment John returned to the IIW. It wasn’t direct, but it was pretty damn clear that these two behemoths of wrestling were on a collision course since day one. John Cavanagh: I’ve been here before Chris, twice to be exact. I’m sure you are very knowledgeable about what happened at the conclusion of the Elimination Chamber–a whole lot of smelly shit went down there, and I’m pretty sure everyone with two brain cells to rub together knows that Johnnie Cav should be holding the IIW World Championship at this very moment. Now, what you may be a wee bit less privy to…your buddy Fred screwed me out of my first opportunity at the World Championship. I was taking the IIW Legend Jake E. Dangerously and making him look like a goddamn amateur when it came to the squared circle, a little hiccup from Fred Debonair and all of that momentum went right out the window. Johnnie Cav was forced to watch that beautiful championship belt walk back up the ramp with the other guy. That’s a feeling that I haven’t quite yet become accustomed to yet in my career. Sure I’ve won championships, I’ve lost some as well, but that is a feeling you just never get used to, that is if you’re actually a competitor, of course. No matter how many times that happens, it's the same damn feeling in the pit of your stomach–that you just didn’t have what it took to get the job done on that given day. When it comes to someone with career accomplishments like Jake, you can accept it a little more than what happened thanks to you, Shaun and Justin at the Elimination Chamber. Now, what’s more is we all get the comical turn of events that came with that outcome. It’s funny how shortly after I was screwed out of the World Championship, your number two guy miraculously disappears and drops the International Championship. It’s makes you laugh but at the same time it makes you ponder a bit, ya know? I can’t help but think back to my days running the streets of New York City and learning all of the hardest lessons that life had to throw at me, way before I should have. One of those lessons that life taught me, it’s also an old expression that you’ve probably heard, “birds of a feather, flock together”. It doesn’t take a genius to see that myself, Trigger and Andy Boy all have a few things in common. Those shared similarities and experiences, those are the mortar that holds The Celtic Club together. That take no shit, never give up, I’m a bigger, badder you know what than you are…that entire attitude that makes people love us or hate us…it’s what makes people know we are a cohesive unit. It’s also what lets people know that if you cross Andy, you deal with the Cavanaghs, and if you cross Johnnie you deal with Andy and Trig. Those icy blue eyes in John’s skull starred a laser beam through the camera, the viewer could feel the intensity in John’s face and you could hear it in his voice. This was no longer the time for games, John knew that he had to use every trick in his bag to make sure that there was no third strike when it came to Johnnie Cav and the IIW World Championship. Johnnie had been everywhere, and everywhere he went he had held championship gold including here in the IIW but this belt, the only World Championship that means something, this was the crown jewel that had escaped his crown for far too long.
John Cavanagh: Now, as far as I can tell when it comes to The Welcoming Committee or “Chronic” Chris Page Enterprises or the Podcast Pussies or whatever it is you call yourselves nowadays, I don’t see that kind of fortitude. Don’t get me wrong, I see plenty of traits that each one of you share, but it ain’t the type of trait that are going to make people respect you, fear you or love you. They’re the type of traits that make everyone regret the fact that your father shot you out of his nut sack into your whore mother’s gaping snatch! You and Justin York linked up, I don’t care when it happened or where it happened, facts like that are trivial. The fact of the matter is that Chris Page and Justin York where running mates, it’s like you two were what we would call “crimeys” in New York. You two were ride or die, right? He was the International Champion, he was the number two in your little hierarchy. For people a little more street literate, that makes Justin York kind of like Chris Page’s underboss. Justin York is Sammy Gravano and Chris Page thinks he’s John Gotti. So what happened? Have you ever learned from history? Justin York is in the wind like Sammy Gravano was in the Witness Protection Program and now Chris Page is left out to dry. Chris Page is the one left to deal with the fallout, the repercussions and in the end…Chris Page and his little Enterprise, will suffer the same fate as John Gotti and the Gambinos. Gotti gets defeated in court, just like Chris Page is fixing to be defeated by Johnnie Cav inside of the ring at Red Alert. The Gambino Family crumbles into a shell of its former self, just like CCPE will after I expose their leader for exactly what he is. A deep breath was heard coming from The One Man Dynasty. He had been doing his best to remain patient when it came to Chris Page and his cronies, the problem was, there was only so much patience a guy like John Cavanagh had and it was safe to assume he was running on E.
John Cavanagh: I’m sure you’re all dying to find out exactly what Chris Page is so why don’t I cut to the chase a little bit. Chris Page, is the same thing that his little road dogg Justin York turned out to be–a snake. Chris Page plays political games and tries to play the locker room like a popularity contest, bring his buddies in, get them in positions where they have an opportunity to steal the show away from those of us who built this goddamn promotion! You said yourself you’ve been around for five or six months while I’ve been here going on two years. Sorry I couldn’t have the Championship for you to challenge me when you got here but Johnnie Cav was off tending to business. Sorry that for damn near a year prior I was helping shape this promotion and defending the International Championship against anyone who wanted to step up to the plate. Sorry that people like me made it so that you had a new playground to test. That’s exactly what this all is for you–a test. Chris Page is going to come out and test the waters here in the IIW, get his big toe a little wet before he makes that final plunge. Johnnie Cav came here and knew that this was home, he knew that this was THE place to be. You on the other hand? You had other places to be, you had other promotions to conquer to build your brand, your image, whatever the hell it is you want to call it. You’ve claimed to be known around the world, claimed that you’re “the man”, you’ve gone around shooting your mouth off to anyone willing to give you the time of day but let’s ask the million dollar question, if you’re such hot shit in every other corner of the world why in the blue hell did you bring your ass here? I’ll answer that for you. You came to the IIW because you knew that until you climbed into one of these rings and proved yourself in THIS promotion that you were just a fraud, a pompous asshole spewing half truths regarding his own self-inflated greatness. And why is THIS promotion the absolute pinnacle of this sport?Cavanagh now had his hand raised high above his head, symbolizing the height of the promotion he found himself representing. John wasn’t ignorant, he was well aware of all of the other promotions in this business, he had helped build plenty and competed in plenty more–he just wasn’t sure if Chris Page fully understood that he had been a big fish in a little pond that had managed to meander its way to the wide open ocean. It’s a lesson that everyone has to learn at some point in their lifetime, why not at Red Alert.John Cavanagh: It’s because the talent that was here to lay the foundation for smug little pricks like yourself we focused on building THE brand. I know you’re the type of human being who needs to have the last word, it makes you feel like your dick is a couple of inches longer so I permitted you to have it on Monday Night Mayhem. You think I’m stupid because I didn’t do what you did? I think you need to open your goddamn eyes and realize the asinine nature of your statement. You decided to go out and build the Chris Page brand, because you think that you’re more important than the industry that puts the food in your stomach. You decided to focus on yourself and your brand because you knew that if you show up somewhere with enough people and find a weak despot, you’ll have that moron wrapped around your little finger quicker than a stripper with a young virgin. Chris Page felt the need to build his brand because he didn’t have enough confidence in himself to go into a promotion, build his name and the promotion and then gain his following. Why haven’t I been World Champion? I got screwed…then when I got screwed, I decided it was best for OUR business to keep doing what I was doing. Kicking ass and defending the International Championship. All the time, I was focusing on doing what was best for our business, I was helping to build the brand that you now call home and guess what Chris? Johnnie doesn't need a cell phone and Twitter to have his name ring bells in this industry, but you do. Your brand is here now, you think that matters to the bottom line of this promotion but in the end it's a teardrop in a bucket the size of the Pacific Ocean. IIW was here before the Chris Page-Shaun Hart era and once I’m done with you, and once I’m come for your little bitch ass Shaun, and permanently end this little game you two have been playing, IIW will preserve, IIW will continue to thrive because of people like ME who helped to build this brand. If it wasn’t for people like me, like Jake E and like Jonny C you’d be trying to convince some other shithead that you’re the hottest thing since sliced bread.The IIW’s final boss shook his head, rolled his eyes and peered upward as if he were asking some higher power to help him understand why it had to be HIS job to take care of business this time around. Taking care of business when the time called for it was something the Irishman had become accustomed to in his lifetime–but not when that business had to deal with helping the other members of the locker room. This was a situation he never envisioned when he joined Team Osh, he had always been viewed as the asshole, the villain or the bad guy everywhere he had traveled including the IIW. But yet, the cheers had begun to swell and Johnnie wasn’t exactly hating it anymore. John chuckled and brought his eyes back to the camera. John Cavanagh: Now, I leave, you and you show up right around the same time? I guess that can be painted as a coincidence but it seems a bit deeper than that. You can label me a conspiracy theorist with a tinfoil hat if you want and pay for some graphics in your next promo about me but it seems to me as if Chris Page and the CCPE felt they found the perfect time to sign on the dotted line and take some of Osh Vaughan’s money by way of Shaun Hart’s stupidity. Everyone around here knew that Johnnie Cav had to take a little break, maybe you did and figured you’d have the place under your thumb before I came back or maybe you thought I was gone, up top as a guest of the State, doesn’t matter. We are where we are on the timeline, Chris Page had a few months without the baddest son of a bitch walking around that locker to get the job done and he couldn’t get it done. Chris Page had Shaun Hart in his goddamn pocket, the man calling the shots, and he STILL couldn’t get the job done! Hell’s Kitchen’s Favorite Son chuckled under his breath. It really was pathetic as far as he was concerned, for someone who was able to cultivate such a following and apparently politic his way into so much success elsewhere in his career…he wasn’t able to accomplish anything more than a Tag Title run with all of that help. Yeah, he had a World Title opportunity, but there was a rather large John Cavanagh sized roadblock in the way.John Cavanagh: Ya know what, what’s even sadder than all of that Chris? It’s the simple fact that you decided to focus on yourself and find other hopeless talents like yourself who need people around them to feel powerful. The fact I am saying that, speaks volumes. Ask your buddy Fred or go dig up Jonny C from whatever titty bar he finds himself in today–they’ve all claimed the same thing about me just to find out that just because Johnnie has the soldiers to get any job done, doesn’t mean he’s going to employ them. People said that about me and I’ve got two people. You’ve got yourself a little mini-army over there it seems. You’ve got your arrogant ass, the blinded leader of the IIW, your long lost Arnold Schwarzenneger to your Danny DeVito Fred Debonair, and current member of the Lightning in a Bottle Club Montuori. Let’s not forget that you also had Shaun’s play toy so I’m sure he’s still in your back pocket somewhere, and at your own admission you’ve got even more people who you “represent”. Well, let me borrow a little something that has been trending lately–since that’s the world you and your brand exist in–you don’t need no army, you just need three bad motherfuckers. Andy might not be the International Champion at the moment, that’s fine, I already did more with that belt than you or anyone you represent ever will. The CCPE boys have already shown that when the going gets tough, they go on and hit that dusty old trail…so there it is, Chris, the cat is most definitely out of the bag. You CCPE birds, flying together in a flock, Justin already ran away like the cowardly piece of shit I called him out to be prior to the Elimination Chamber. Now, well I think it’s pretty obvious what the next step in this great, big plan that the Universe has in store for all of us in the IIW locker room. That’s the moment that I compress your head into your spine with a Hell’s Kitchen’s Drop for a three count. Or maybe I choke the life out of you with my patented Celtic Deathlock. I really don’t give a rat’s ass which of those two endings the world witnesses at Red Alert because in the end, it leads us all to the same exact place. The spot where we were all meant to be from the moment Johnnie Cav stepped foot into this goddamn promotion and that is with The One Man Dynasty as the IIW World Champion! Johnnie Cav began motioning his hands back and forth around his waist to symbolize himself strapping the World Championship around his waist. He had helped to build the promotion since its re-opening, he had run amuck as the International Champion and had come within mere moments of holding the World Championship on two separate occassions--he wasn't about to let this third opportunity go to waste. Unfortunately for Chris Page, he was going up against the most determined version of John Cavanagh yet to challenge for the game's most prestigious prize.John Cavanagh: The fucked up part about all of this though, Chris? It's that you look at the World Championship as a want, a desire. If you go back to twelfth grade Economics class you'll understand that every economic decision is based off of wants and needs. A want is something that you would like to have, I'm sure you already knew that but figured I could spell it out in case I'm giving you're childish mind a bit too much credit. Some examples of a want include the latest iPhone, the newest generation video game console, the freshest pair of Jordans on the block, a brand new car, and for you Chris Page a major want is the IIW World Championship. You want it because you need that other feather in your cap to make yourself feel good about yourself. You know damn well that if you fumble the ball next Sunday at Red Alert there is going to be a major problem for the little skid mark of a brand you hold so near and dear to your Grinch sized heart. You'll be starting to resemble a guy named Papa Doc in the movie 8 Mile real goddamn quick. You won't know what to say on your next Podcast...you'll freeze if you even decide to show up to the following addition of Monday Night Mayhem. I can see you right now, staring into the camera or microphone just trying to figure out how you'd weasel your way out of admitting that not only where you defeated but that you had finally bit off quite a bit more than you were capable of chewing. Now, before I get off on a major tangent about the comedy gold that will come out of you once you realize you're nothing more than a drop of jizz on the floor of a strip club, I should probably also explain what a need is. According to the basic principles of economics a need is something that we, as human beings, need to survive. See, that is where the difference comes to play. Chris Page WANTS the championship, Mr. I Got My Own Brand of Feminine Hygiene Products WANTS people to feel he is important when it comes to IIW lore. Johnnie Cav? Well, this sick son of a bitch NEEDS that championship. I came into this promotion barking my head off and saying what I would do...I said three things: beat the ever loving piss out of Tyler Debonair, bring the International Championship to heights it had never seen and win the IIW World Heavyweight Championship. Check, check, no check. That's a bitch when you look down at your "To Do List" and see that only two-thirds of the bastard has been finished. The need I have to complete my destiny and accomplish the goal that I set out to achieve will far outweigh the want you have to belong, Chris. That's it, right there, I finally hit the nail on the head. Chris Page is just yearning to belong--he's gotten all of his followers but just like a fat kid that ate all of his cake he still feels empty in side. He still isn't quite sure what his worth is even though he constantly shouts from the mountain tops and claims his own arrogant greatness. It will be so satisfying to watch you fall from your high horse and hit your head when you finally come crash down like Humpty Dumpty.John began to laugh. He knew that it wasn't exactly a nursery rhyme type of moment but he did enjoy the vision of Chris Page falling to the ground and splitting his near hallow head open for all to witness the peanut sized processing factory that he calls a brain. What was even better was that Shaun Hart could be the king...Fred and Montuori could be the men and try to put "Chronic" Chris Page back together again.John Cavanagh: So, my question to you now is, where will it be next for Chris Page and CCPE? After Chris Page is made to look like an inept fool when he steps foot into the squared circle with one of the greatest to ever lace up a pair of boots, after I defeat him and take the World Championship that should be mine at this very moment and after “Chronic” sticks his tail between his legs and runs his little bitch ass back to whatever backwater promotion it is that he came from…what will happen to the others? Will your new flavor of the week follow you out of here? Will Fred Debonair finally concede that he’s a spineless coward? Will Shaun Hart actually man up and prove he’s got the cojones to admit his thought process wasn’t exactly in the best interest of the IIW? I’m not really sure, but one thing I know for certain is that Chris Page, the CCPE brand and whatever little bullshit aura you think you’ve developed around yourself…it ain’t ever gonna be the same once I’m done with you at Red Alert. Now, Christopher, be sure to listen extremely carefully because I want you to know exactly how little I think about you as both a professional wrestler and as a human being. When we face off at Red Alert, I fully plan on hammering your face over and over with my closed fist, this is a standard match so I will gleefully employ the one legal weapon I have, my body. Now, after I break each and every single bone in your face, after you feel the tears swell in your eyes and that blood and mucus mix runs from your nostrils, touching your lips and some of it making its way to your taste buds…after I leave you with a few missing teeth and an eyeball hanging from the socket…I want you to know that I will, finally, be satisfied. After I’ve destroyed the image you have portrayed, the brand that you have established, once I’ve exposed you as a the talentless, useless, egotistical, conniving pile of steaming dog shit that you truly are to the entire IIW audience…that is when I will finally show mercy. At that moment, when the world sees poor little Chris Page in the fetal position, shown to be an athlete on an inferior level to myself, that is when I will finally end the match. It will take full redemption on my part and full penance on your part, then and only then, will The One Man Dynasty take his spot at the pinnacle of this sport, rising above the summit of the unconquerable mountain that is the IIW. I can’t wait, Chris, I hope you feel the same way.
With that being said John reached into his black leather jacket and pulled out a silver cigarette case. Cavanagh opened the case, pulled out a joint and began fumbling around in his jeans pockets for his lighter but then everyone’s favorite default Apple ringtone was heard. John reached into the pocket inside of his jacket and placed the cell phone to his ear.John Cavanagh: Yeah?The Irishman waited for a moment, he was taking in the words that he was being told by whomever the caller was on the other side of the line. John’s face grew more serious as he arched his eyebrows and seemed to stare off into the abyss. Almost as quickly as the arched brows and serious look had appeared, they vanished, Cavanagh’s face grew a slight smirk at the right corner of his mouth.John Cavanagh: Well, that explains why he was out on the Island that night. John paused for a moment as the voice on the other side of the cell phone continued. Cavanagh bobbed his head up and down as if he were agreeing with whatever this mystery caller had to say. John Cavanagh: Nah, don’t worry about it. Thanks for the info. I’ll hop in the whip and take the hike out there.
Cavanagh removed his iPhone from his ear, looked down at the screen and ended the call, placing it back into his interior pocket. John resumed fumbling for his lighter and walked off as the scene cut to static.The Valkyrie’s Den
Bay Shore, New York
Wednesday night/Thursday morning, September 7th/September 8th (exact time unknown)The static was abruptly terminated by the sound of an engine stopping. The camera panned out to see the chrome rims, the black paint was exposed and shortly thereafter the lines of a 1996 Chevrolet Impala SS began to come into the frame. The driver side door exploded outward and the world was greeted by a pair of wheat Timberland boots. The camera panned up to show us Chris Page’s favorite “fan favorite”, Johnnie Cav. Cavanagh walked towards the camera before the view changed to his back, he was in front of a building of storefronts. There was a 7-11, a small liquor store, a barber shop and a small bar all the way to the right hand side of the mini strip mall. The Irishman began a slow, yet purposeful, waltz towards the bar, he walked past a group of a dozen Harley Davidson motorcycles on his way to the overhang above the entryway of the bar. John looked to the sign, revealing the name of this not so fine looking establishment to be The Valkyrie’s Den. John Cavanagh: Well, this is the spot. Fuck it.John shrugged his shoulders, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure what kind of situation he was walking into in all reality. He had never been to The Valkyrie’s Den, hell he never even heard of the place before he got off the phone with whoever it was that called him while he was near the Intrepid in Hell’s Kitchen. What Johnnie Boy was fully aware of however was the reputation of the men that he might encounter on the interior of the edifice. John went into the small of his back, he produced a small revolver that he had been known to keep in the small of his back. It was a six shot. There were way more than six bikers in there…was this actually the best idea or should he have sent someone? Too late to turn back now.The One Man Dynasty swung open the door and a cloud of smoke began to bellow out from the interior of the building. John took a step towards the inside as “All Summer Long” by Kid Rock began playing in the background. The camera panned to show a beat down bar with wall paper peeling off of the walls. The bar itself looked as if it hadn’t been wiped down in years. A woman with large, yet extremely fat, breasts stood behind the corner with long brown curly hair, her face said she was sixty-five even though she was probably in her early forties, this woman had seen a lot in her day. She wore a low cut shirt that drew attention to her large bosoms as well as her revolting gut. The men in the bar turned around to see who had entered, it wasn’t often that this bar was frequented by much more than The Club and occasionally law enforcement. John stuck out like a sore thumb…these men were clad in denim all with matching cut off jackets and a matching 1% logo near their right shoulders. The men had their eyes glued on three women, one overweight but not as large as the bartender, she was surrounded by two much thinner women who all looked as if they had been up on a three day bender. The three women continued to dance to the music as one exposed her breasts for the male crowd to see. It was as if these girls were in a trance, they barely realized that all of the attention had shifted towards the random outsider who had just walked into this bar as if he owned it. One of the larger bikers stood up, his chest the size of John’s, his arms possibly bigger yet all covered in horribly done prison tattoos. Unidentified Biker: Who the fuck are you?John was surprised, that wasn’t the welcome he was expecting from the patrons of such an inviting establishment. Cavanagh’s eyebrows elevated on his forehead as a sign of confusion, he was truly taken aback by this man’s attitude.John Cavanagh: My name is John fucking Cavanagh, you must be nobody...I heard a friend of mine stopped by here a week or so ago.The large biker took a deep breath–which of the randoms that waltzed in was he referring to? There had been a few college punks that saw their monthly dental expenses skyrocket due to The Club, was this guy here for one of them? There had been a few women called down to the Den and shared by the boys, could he be their pimp? Or was this shithead some cop fishing for some information, hoping one of the brothers would do something stupid or say something incriminating while he stood in the bar.John Cavanagh: Look guy, I don’t know why the fuck I’m here. All I know is I got a phone call from a friend of mine who said a guy named Titan called him and said my buddy was here not too long ago. The big biker looked confused. He spit out the first thing that came to his mouth.Unidentified Biker: Titan?! Why the fuck didn’t you say something! You might have got your ass kicked by all of us if you didn’t man. John rolled his eyes, he knew the odds were against him so the guy was probably right–that didn’t change the fact that Johnnie Cav wasn’t going to go down without a fight and was entirely capable and willing to take six of those fuckers with him if need be. Before the tension could increase or decrease a towering man, standing about six feet, seven inches tall with arms that could crack a watermelon like Bobby Lashley walked out from a back room with yet another woman, this one covered in ink was clearly the pick of the litter in this place–and that wasn’t exactly saying much. The woman grabbed the towering man’s arm just to be flung off to another man.Woman: Daddy?!
The woman cried out to the tall man as a much older, much more decrepit man began to pull at her breasts. The towering biker looked down at the woman before barking his latest insult.Titan: I ain’t your Daddy you dumb bitch! Make sure you drain the old man’s sack tonight!
The elder biker seemed very pleased, yet the drugged out woman looked as if her life couldn’t get any worse. This was the life of a one percent club member, and this was the hell that awaited many impressionable women who thought that one of these men loved them. Sure, they all had Old Ladies they were in more committed, serious relationships with but they also made sure there were always enough strung out bimbos around to make sure everybody got laid on the regular…as long as you didn’t mind what the female might look like. The towering man looked to John and spoke.
Titan: You must be John Cavanagh, Paddy was telling me about you. Let’s get out back and have a talk.The man nodded towards the back door and began to walk. It was clear to John that this man must be the guy that this “friend of mine” referred to as “Titan”. John followed the man and got a perfect shot of the back of the man’s cut as the followed him to the back.
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Post by Chris Page on Sept 11, 2022 18:48:14 GMT
To get to the present we must first address the mountain of bullshit that has transpired in the past that has led me down the path to get to the point where I can establish the IIW World Heavyweight Championship in ways that none of you could dream of. For the better part of five months, I’ve been lurking around dominating each and every one of you that has tempted fate by getting into the ring with me. I have legitimately walked into this company and turned it upside down by making it a destination versus a hole in the wall. Over these last few months not only have I run circles around all of you but I have made it look easy because it has been. Nobody has been able to push me, nobody has been able to test me, nobody has taken me to my limits but everyone has fallen victim to not only Chris Page but to CCPE as well. Within my tenure, I showed up and snuffed out the unstoppable Team Friendship while taking the Tag Titles, I’ve put down your resident poster boy in Crush, I bitch slapped Justin York, made Scotty Adams hang his shit up, helped Fred Debonair see the light, and have brought some of my clients on over to give this federation a much-needed credibility boost to the whining and crying from the gutless turds that would rather run their mouths behind closed doors than be men and try their hands at getting in the ring with me. When I walked through the doors and saw the lack of competition, the lack of REAL talent, the lack of ANYTHING of substance I knew this would be easier than taking candy from a baby. I was right.
I knew it wasn’t a matter of if I would be pushed toward the World Title it was a matter of when, and from the day I stepped foot in this company there has been nothing but a revolving door of talent that has occupied that spot and none of them have been worth the toilet paper I wipe my ass with. Let’s start with you, Jonny. The single biggest poser on this roster, the guy that desperately wants to be acknowledged as a GREAT professional wrestler yet wouldn’t even know where to check a fucking box on his resume. This dude paraded around with the strap and ducked me at all costs while putting up a front that he WANTED me in the ring. I made challenges, and he accepted but claimed he didn’t hold a pencil. News Flash turdmonkey, you don’t have to hold a pencil to go to the brass and tell them you wanted to do this, I mean it’s not like you haven’t done it before but instead, you built your lack of credibility by losing to El Landerson like a dumb fucking cuck.
I waited for you to grow some nuts and man up.
I would have gladly just mopped the mat with your face on principal alone over taking away your precious title but you even ran from that like a Crush runs from defending his title against anyone that isn’t PG-13; which side note, can that shit just end now so other people get an opportunity over two egomaniacs playing grab ass that died two months ago? It’s bad enough you can’t even tell the two fuckers apart from the words they speak to how they cut a promo… it’s almost like they’re the same person sharing the same brain but what do I know, right? It’s not like I haven’t pegged all of you a mile away.
I digress.
I waited for you to back up that oversized cock sucker of yours to the sound of crickets, and you know why? Because the great Jonny Crybaby wasn’t going to survive being raked over the flaming hot coals that I would have drug you over because I can and you’re a fucking mark for yourself that can’t and won’t stop me. It was funnier to see you show back up looking for York but when York bounces you aren’t anywhere to be seen in the Battle Royal for the International strap; irony. You’ve elected to sit your ass on the sidelines not because you’re hurt; well, maybe those feelings are hurt with all the tissues you’ve gone through, but because you know deep down inside that the Jonny C show ended the day Chris Page walked through the front doors of the IIW, walked through the living room and into the kitchen where I opened that fridge and snatched the last beer without giving a flying fuck when he came to who owned it.
This isn’t a ploy to get you in the ring now.
You’ve already established that you’re not worth my time outside of me smacking you around verbally like the two-bit bitch you are and to also remind you that there is a reason you can only find success in ONE place unless you’re being carried by a more talented Johnny where I find it EVERYWHERE. When I go ahead and take that World Title and you get that wild hair up your ass to “walk out” on television allow me to go ahead and do unto you that you did unto me. Let’s see how you react to being cast aside week after week after week after week with excuse after excuse after excuse after excuse as to why the powers that be won’t book it. I guarantee you I’ll make it more entertaining than anything your lame ass can come up with.
Try me. I dare you.
The Title gets passed over to Russell Wayne next for what, a month? That shit made a lot of sense, but unlike Jonny at least Russell MIGHT have given me a test, and while I understand you can’t control injuries you left a void that shouldn’t have been a void, to begin with, had I gotten the match I was promised following War Games. Instead, I had to sit on the sidelines while yet another Wayne/Jonny dance played out that was upstaged at every turn. I fault you both for that because it was obvious the fucks given weren’t there, and yet both of you claim to give a crap about the IIW? Sure. With Russell in the equation, I just knew that we would be able to deliver some quality stuff on television… and then the bone snapped. My world drastically changed one more time; which seems to be the norm within the IIW, the final Hail Mary was locking six of the “top guys” inside an Elimination Chamber. On paper, this looked like a smart idea because surely one of the six would emerge as the placeholder for me. You would have thought that this would have brought an end to it… but nah, logic doesn’t seem to be a strong suit because a double pin later we are still without a World Champion. I’m not going to get into the how or the why’s because ONE thing that did come out of it was one of your homegrowns becoming my final victim on this LONG road to a place I should have been on day three.
Day one is more accurate but I wanted to be a little humble.
My purpose in bringing this up is to illustrate that while shit has been going crazy in the World Title scene I’ve been sitting here patiently waiting to solve that problem. You don’t have to like me to respect me, you don’t have to kiss my ass to acknowledge that when it comes to Professional Wrestling there aren’t that many bigger names in the industry than Chris Page, you don’t have to agree with my actions to acknowledge that I am the single biggest attraction the IIW has had since the first day I graced you with my presence; yeah GRACED YOU with my presence, you fucking heard me. All of this could have been put to bed months ago and we could be headed into a Pay-Per-View Main Event that has meaning behind it over something that has been slapped together out of circumstances that could have been avoided. Finally, the wait is officially over and the IIW is on the verge of the single biggest change that it has desperately needed for now someone worthy of wearing the crown stands before you ready to take what belongs to him but also shatter records from yesteryears in the process. I’ve made it perfectly clear that I didn’t come here to make friends, I’m not here to pat you on the back while saying “atta boy” because I am here to continue my legacy at your expense. It’s been about two years since I have been a World or Universal Champion; largely by choice, but two years since I have elected to strap a company on my back and carry it to the promised land. The IIW has just begun to tour worldwide, so now more than ever when your product takes on an undertaking such as this you need a reliable talent at the forefront. The reality is none of you are ready for that; especially you, John Cavanagh.
You epitomize everything that has been wrong with the IIW until here lately as the winds of change have blown in bringing in talents that are flat our superior to you, and while you haven’t whined as much as the rest you’ve still done your share of politicking now, haven’t you? Don’t be bashful now, go ahead and own up to it now because I’m a man that doesn’t throw allegations around unless I’ve got the power to back it up and in this instance, I have it in spades. You, like so many others on this roster, seem to pick and choose when you give a fuck versus when you don’t. It’s evident when you flip that camera on and try to cut a promo the level of inconsistencies that course through your veins. One week you’re on screen for a few minutes, the next week for a few hours depending on who is standing on the other side of the ring from you. Talk about it being the amateur hour at its finest. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again because truer words haven’t ever been spoken; those aren’t actions of someone that belongs on top, those are the actions that lead you to where you’ve seemed to land… always the bridesmaid, never the bride.
Over the next few days, I’m going to give you a browbeating of a lifetime.
Over the next few days, I’m going to do unto the IIW talent as they’ve done unto everyone else by making you wait for me to speak, I’ve made you wait to see how I’m going to play it, I’ve made you wait and wait but unlike you and the rest of the baggers, I’m going to entertain you while also making you rethink if professional wrestling is where you really belong. Enjoy this moment, John, because it’s not every day that you stand in the ring with someone such as myself… and I assure you that it’s going to be the last time you’re going to want to as well. _____________________ CONTINUED FROM: iiwefed.boards.net/thread/1373/welcoming-committee-celtic-club_____________________ Chris hung up the phone as he shifted his gaze back toward Candice Wolf-Page as he stands in the bedroom at the Velvet Rabbit in Manhattan, New York as he states. CHRIS PAGE: I got J Mont to replace Justin. I still can’t believe he asked for his release. I’m not going to lie… I don’t miss Justin. Being wishy-washy isn’t my cup of tea. It’s probably best for him not only to ask for his release here but also with CCPE. The business isn’t for everyone.
I know you’ve been lurking around waiting to see what I’d say, I hope I didn’t disappoint. CANDICE WOLF-PAGE: That’s great news even if it’s Joe.
CHRIS PAGE: Your sure I was dreaming? It was all so real to me. CANDICE WOLF-PAGE: Yeah babe. Candice then states. CANDICE WOLF-PAGE: Yeah babe. Confusion graces Chris’s face as he looks at Candice as he notices some inconsistencies with his wife. CANDICE WOLF-PAGE: What’s the matter? Chris starts looking around his bedroom until his eyes reach his bedroom door which glitches quickly causing Chris to cock his right eyebrow. CHRIS PAGE: Hmmm. Something isn’t right. Chris starts to take a few reluctant steps toward his closed bedroom door. The panels on the door start to switch positions causing Chris to point as he directs his attention toward Candice who stares off with a blank expression on her face. CANDICE WOLF-PAGE: I don’t feel so good, babe. Candice's body starts to lightly twitch. Chris pivots from the doorway and toward his wife taking notice of the twitching that is coming more and more severe as the seconds pass. CHRIS PAGE: Babe? Chris rushes to Candice’s side where he takes her by the hand, he walks her around the bed where he lays her down. CANDICE WOLF-PAGE: I don’t know what’s going on. Chris darts toward the bathroom as he is heard saying while disappearing into the pisser. CHRIS PAGE: Let me check your temperature. Chris returns to the bedside where a thermometer and a cool towel. He places the thermometer under the tongue of Candice and rests the cool cloth on her forehead. There is a loud growl heard coming from the other side of the bedroom door that catches Chris’s attention. He walks over opening the door that leads out into Candice’s office with a kitchen off the office on the other side of the room. CHRIS PAGE: Hello? Chris reluctantly starts to seek out the origin of the growl while tiptoeing across the floor of Candice’s office and toward the kitchen. There’s a carton of a dozen eggs on the counter that pops open right in front of Chris. CHRIS PAGE: What the hell? The eggs start to rattle in the container before one of the eggs jumps out of the container and cracks itself open on the countertop! It starts cooking itself followed by another egg, and then another egg! Chris backs away from the counter as there’s another loud growl coming from the fridge. CHRIS PAGE: CANDICE? Fading back into the bedroom Candice starts to levitate above the bed in a prone laying position when suddenly popping up through the mattress are the arms of an unknown creature that wraps them around the levitating Candice Wolf-Page and pulls her down into the mattress. We cut back out to the kitchen where Chris Page reaches out to grab the handle of the fridge. He slowly cracks open the fridge expecting to see the contents only to see a bright shining Triangle with two beastly-looking dogs that each echo the name… “CAV!” Chris slams the refrigerator door shut and explodes across the office floor back toward the bedroom where he stops in his tracks and screams out at the top of his lungs. CHRIS PAGE: CANDICE!! We get inside the bedroom just as the floor-to-ceiling mirror shatters into thousands of pieces Chris looks upon the bed that has a giant hole in the center of it… Suddenly emerging from the center of the bed…  CHRIS PAGE: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! _______________________ The scene fades in as Chris Page is standing outside the Weaver Hall Department of Psychology. Chris looks down at the attire he’s dressed in before looking around at the various people around him. CHRIS PAGE: Here goes nothing. Chris walks up the steps toward the main entrance. He opens the door entering Weaver Hall passing by some students that are on the way out. He makes his way to a building directory on the wall where he analyzes looking for a specific name, yet it’s not there. “Can I help you find something?” The voice of Candice is heard coming from behind him. Chris spins around expecting to see his lovely wife, or maybe not so much given current circumstances, bride. Standing before him is…  CHRIS PAGE: I’m sorry, you are? “The name is Janine, I used to work here.” She states with a thick New York accent while smacking on some chewing gum. CHRIS PAGE: I’m looking for Dr. Venkman, Dr. Fred Venkman. I was told he had an office here but I can’t seem to find his name on the directory. JANINE: That’s because he’s not here anymore. I’m his secretary, we lost our funding and had to move locations. Are you experiencing something paranormal? Chris darts his head around making sure nobody heard her before taking her by the arm and walking her over to a private corner of the building as he states. CHRIS PAGE: I don’t know what I’m experiencing. The IIW World Heavyweight Championship.
The Holy Grail of everything that my counterpart has feverishly attempted to attain and yet has failed at every turn. It’s cute to me that you blamed Shaun for your shortcoming because it’s a hell of a lot easier to admit he screwed you than admitting that you weren’t good enough. You had the opportune moment to silence the critics, you had the chance to rise to the occasion with your back against the wall, and you had the chance to leave your stamp on the IIW after what? Years? Decades?
You failed.
Back on Mayhem, I looked across that ring and into your eyes. I told you that in my eyes that you were the better man, perhaps the uncrowned Champion. I extended an olive branch of respect that you shat on faster than a school girl after a night of Taco Bell. What you failed to even comprehend was that it didn’t matter if it were you or Sean Raines for that matter who left with the strap, it was coming to me regardless. To be honest I am kind of shocked that you bothered to show up at all knowing that you’ve got the undaunted task of doing what nobody has been able to do…
Beat me.
It was cute that you claim that I’m but a gimmick.
I’m sure you’ll further elaborate while you put me to sleep over the next few weeks because the last thing you are is entertaining. There’s nothing more creative than speaking like a robot on crack rattling on and on and on without taking a breath. CHRIS PAGE: Can you please help me? I need to see Dr. Venkman. Janine nods her head. JANINE: Come with me. ____________________ The scene fades in…  Janine and Chris cross the street as cabs honk at them. Jaywalking is a bitch in New York. Chris flips off the driver as they safely reach the curbside in front of the three-story building. CHRIS PAGE: An old firehouse? JANINE: Don’t get picky. She states with sassiness in her tone while walking up to the door, she opens it for Chris who steps into the building with Janine coming in behind him where she walks past him toward the reception area bypassing a Ghostmobile with the hood open and someone working on the engine. She takes her seat at her desk as Chris follows. CHRIS PAGE: Is Dr. Venkman here? Janine screams out. JANINE: FRED! Fred’s name echoes throughout the old Firehouse when suddenly sliding down a pole that leads up to the second floor is none other than…  JANINE: We have a client. Chris turns around to see what is almost a mirror image of himself. CHRIS PAGE: Dr. Venkman?
FRED VENKMAN: Call me Fred. They shake hands before Fred states.’ FRED VENKMAN: Are you my doppelganger? Before Chris can answer Fred Venkman smirks and motions for Chris to come with him. CHRIS PAGE: You’re fatter. Dr. Venkman rolls his eyes before responding. FRED VENKMAN: Come with me. Fred leads Chris through the reception area and into a back office. He motions for Chris to have a seat while he closes the door behind them. Fred walks around his desk where he takes a seat.
FRED VENKMAN: Tell me, what seems to be the problem? CHRIS PAGE: It’s my wife. FRED VENKMAN: Oh we don’t do couples counseling here. Chris rolls his eyes as he states. CHRIS PAGE: It’s not couples counseling that’s needed. She turned into some kind of dog person and took off! Let’s not get started on eggs popping out of a container and cooking on the kitchen counter, or the loud growling from the refrigerator. Fred interjects. FRED VENKMAN: What? CHRIS PAGE: You heard me, eggs cooking on the kitchen counter. I mean, I know I’m a stoner but not even I can get that high to imagine all of this.
FRED VENKMAN: You also said the fridge was growling? CHRIS PAGE: Yeah, but when I opened it there was a loud voice that said “Cav”. The name catches the interest of Dr. Venkman. FRED VENKMAN: That’s impossible. He states. CHRIS PAGE: How so?
FRED VENKMAN: I’ve come across this once before, and if it’s the same kind of situation we’re going to be in for a long ride. Let’s be fair It wasn’t until his name landed across from mine for this impending Red Alert that Cav meant anything. Let’s take a trip back in time, shall we? Let’s go back to War Games in which the owner of this three-ring circus came to ME and made me his leader, his captain if you will. This chode was so slow that he legitimately assumed it was his show when I was the only man who promised anything in the event we left with a win. I didn’t have to score the fall, I didn’t have to do anything but show up, devise the plan, and execute it. Sure, John. You got that fall that WON me this very opportunity, so I find it kind of fitting that your also going to be the guy that I defeat for the very Championship that has eluded you your entire IIW career.
Essentially I used you as my pawn, and you played that role to perfection.
I’m sure you’ll spend hours trying to convince us that you were the reason victory was had, but the truth is everyone’s favorite ankle biter is what led to the decision, do yourself a favor and don’t take the cred for something YOU weren’t responsible for. Seems pretty Busch league to me, but then again so do most of you that have been here for years and couldn’t make this place a blip on the radar while I show up and do more for YOUR HOUSE in six months. Jesus, that’s gotta suck to be guys like you, John. A guy that preaches how they’re the best of the best yet if you walk outside of the IIW doors nobody knows your name.
How does that work out for you?
I really want to know.
Because from where I’m standing; on top of the profession, you don’t strike me as the Main Event contender, and after being in the ring with you a month ago SUCCESSFULLY defending the Tag Straps DEFEATING you and your ragtag partner that feeling was solidified. I can only wonder how much bitching you are going to do when you come up short… again.
CHRIS PAGE: All I want is my wife back. Chris takes his seat across from Dr. Venkman who places the framed article on his desk and directs his attention to Chris. FRED VENKMAN: I don’t think that’s possible. CHRIS PAGE: What does that even mean? You’re supposed to specialize in stuff just like this. I can’t believe this is even happening. I want everyone to go back and take a look at ole Cav’s promotional packages over the last several weeks. Take a look at ALL the time and energy he puts into things under “special” occasions versus a standard showing and tell me what YOU see. Fuck, this dude spent more time talking about me on his road to the elimination chamber that you’d think my name was Dick as much as it was coming out of his mouth, AND I WASN’T EVEN IN THE FUCKING MATCH! Who would do something so remedial as to speak on me knowing that there’s a chance you’re going to have to do it again?
I bet you a grand that our buddy here can’t go three promos without repeating something he said six weeks ago.
Trust me, I’m watching.
And when you do I’ll be right there to nail you on it because the times of me giving a fuck about any of you have officially come and gone. You guys first cry about how I use my outside projects here to promote that I am every bit as good as I claim to be yet you allow someone else to walk around promoting a company that’s probably a bunch of Crush clones so he can stroke his dick for being nothing but sub-fucking-par. Are we picking and choosing who can use their outside adventures? Nah, that dog doesn’t hunt. While you’ve been here with your thumb up your ass I’ve been running and gunning per usual by knocking off yet another Legend from another acronym that pushed me to my limits because NONE OF YOU CAN!
I know that tickles your taint but I don’t care.
It’s not even slaughtering higher levels of competition elsewhere that’s the bragging point; it’s knowing that I’ve been staying crisp and performance ready while you've been resting on your laurels licking your wounds while desperately trying to figure out how you’re going to crack the code that’s rarely cracked. I could go ahead and tell you that this is a losing battle for you because while you’ve been waiting YEARS for this moment there are those talents that are good enough to make it to the dance and there are those that ARE the dance. You don’t get to stand in front of the camera and rattle on for hours upon hours when one of the FIRST gripes thrown my direction is how lengthy my camera time is.
Again with the picking and choosing.
It’s becoming a trend. FRED VENKMAN: Explain to me what happened, exactly. CHRIS PAGE: I woke up from a nap, something didn’t feel right. Something was off with her, and literally, she started repeatedly twitching, I laid her down on the bed and grabbed a thermometer and a cool towel. Chris states. CHRIS PAGE: I checked her temperature but that was when I heard a growl from the office. So, I went and checked it out. The eggs started popping, and the fridge growled, I heard the name Cav before returning to the bedroom where the windows shattered before this dog-looking creature popped out from the mattress and took off. There is a loud pounding on the closed door of Dr. Fred Venkman. FRED VENKMAN: YEAH! The door is opened by… FRED VENKMAN: Ah, Bam Stantz.  A cigarette hangs from Bam’s lip as he walks into the office. Chris stands up and extends his hand. Bam Stantz shakes the hand rather aggressively, and when he pulls his hand away Chris looks down at his right hand which has some sort of black substance. FRED VENKMAN: Stantz, this is… I’m sorry, what’s your name? CHRIS PAGE: You can call me Chris. A nod from Fred as his eyes pivot toward Bam. FRED VENKMAN: Bam, this is Chris. Bam Stantz hands Chris a white towel to wipe his hands with before taking notice of the article on the desk of Dr. Venkman. BAM STANTZ: Is he back? Chris wipes his hands as he takes his seat while the question sinks in. CHRIS PAGE: So you have dealt with him. FRED VENKMAN: I never said I hadn’t. CHRIS PAGE: Who is he? FRED VENKMAN: He’s the one that got away. The office door swings open once more and entering is… FRED VENKMAN: Ah, Mr. Splangler…  FRED VENKMAN: Joe Spangler please meet Chris. Joe nods at Chris as he states. JOE SPANGLER: I couldn’t help but overhear while eavesdropping that he’s back. Is this true? Dr. Venkman lets out a deep sigh. FRED VENKMAN: It’s possible. We’re going to have to investigate the claim. CHRIS PAGE: Investigate? What the hell do you guys do? Fred, Bam, and Joe in unison then state. “We’re the Ghostbusters.” CHRIS PAGE: The what? FRED VENKMAN: Ghostbusters. That’s why you’re here, right? CHRIS PAGE: I mean, I guess. I’m actually here for the one thing that I’ve been patiently waiting on, the IIW World Heavyweight Championship. This is the moment that we’ve all been waiting for because finally, someone with credibility to his name across the globe is about to take the reigns of this federation, and inject something other than boredom into its veins. The sad fact when it comes down to you, Cav, rests with one specific point… You’re just not good enough to be occupying the spot you’re holding right now, and if ole someone didn’t go a little cray-cray you wouldn’t even be in the conversation. You couldn’t get the job done inside the Chamber regardless if you were the better person or not. It makes me question my own initial thoughts because if you were the better man you wouldn’t have a fistful of excuses for entering this party empty fucking handed; which coincidentally is exactly how you’re going to be leaving.
You had an opportunity several weeks back to take my Tag Titles, what happened? You failed much like you’ve failed twice at capturing the belt that matters, but what I’d like to point out one more time is how your effort just wasn’t there like it was prior. Why is that? Why can’t you be consistent with anything you do outside of waking up in the morning to take a piss? You claim that you’ve been overlooked, that Osh doesn’t see the value in you but yet when you are given an opportunity you trip over your own feet to squander it. It’s cute that you really think you stand a chance when that bell rings come Red Alert because unlike you, I turn up the volume every time I step through those ropes… which is yet another reason why I am getting more opportunities like this in a matter of months versus you who has to wait years.  Right now at this exact moment, I am rocking your tag titles, I’m about to snag the IIW World Title, and as seen above it’s not too far away from taking a Multiversal Championship and adding it to my collection. You talk about my outside endeavors like they don’t matter, yet I don’t see John Cavanagh’s name on any other show on the planet. Why is that? Don’t feed me the horseshit of I don’t have to do all that when in reality THIS is the biggest match of YOUR career while to me it’s just another Sunday because anyone with half a brain can see the writing on the wall that you are being served up to me on a silver platter. I can’t help those outside companies hit my line, I can’t help that I am so adaptable that I can show up anywhere around the world and find success while you’re too busy sniffing the IIW jockstrap while finding little to no success in the process. Maybe you should do yourself a favor and just quit now and save yourself the embarrassment that is about to follow. There’s not going to be any question as to who the better man is within this equation regardless of how many Irish Bombs you toss back to give yourself some liquid courage to take this ass whipping that is coming your way.FRED VENKMAN: Where is your wife now? CHRIS PAGE: You ask me as I hung around after she turned into a dog. The teeth on that thing alone were enough to make me dribble in my shorts. Bam Stantz puts out his cigarette in an ashtray on the corner of Fred’s desk. BAM STANZ: Where do you live? CHRIS PAGE: Manhattan, have you heard of the Velvet Rabbit? Joe Spangler spouts off. JOE SPANGLER: Bastards won’t let me in their Empire Room. All heads in the room turn toward Joe who quietly steps back into the corner of the office as Fred then states. FRED VENKMAN: Is it possible for us to see the space where this haunting happened? CHRIS PAGE: Of course. Fred directs his attention toward Joe Spangler as he then states. FRED VENKMAN: Get us some toys together. A smirk comes across the face of Bam Stantz causing Fred to snap his fingers and point at Bam. FRED VENKMAN: No bricks. BAM STANTZ: Dude! ____________________ We open back up as Chris Page stands in front of the Penthouse Apartment door on the top floor of the skyscraper known as The Velvet Rabbit Manhattan. JOE SPANGLER: I’m so envious that you get to live here. Joe states as he stands a few feet behind Chris while Fred Venkman lightly smacks him on the right shoulder. CHRIS PAGE: It’s a part-time thing. Chris responds as he holds the key to the front door in his right hand which trembles slightly as he draws it near the door. He places the key in the lock and turns. The door creaks eerily while it opens up into the office of Candice Wolf-Page. Chris lets out a deep sigh before stepping across the threshold where the temperature seemingly drops ten degrees giving Chris a light chill across his body. Dr. Venkman leads Bam Stantz and Joe Spangler as they all observe the room. Joe reaches into a black medical bag and procures a PKE Meter. The cooked eggs are still on the kitchen counter which takes attention of Fred.  CHRIS PAGE: I told you. The eggs just popped out of the containers and fried in place. Fred and Bam start to investigate the kitchen counter while Joe is sweeping the office area. FRED VENKMAN: Well, the good news is you’re not stoned out of your mind. Joe begins an initial sweep of the kitchen while Chris motions for Fred and Bam to follow him. CHRIS PAGE: The bedroom is back here, and it’s where everything else happened. Bam Stantz is followed by Fred Venkman as they follow Chris past the desk of Candice to a side door. He opens the door to an empty bedroom, the floor-to-ceiling window on the far side of the room still blown out and a king-sized mattress with a huge hole in the center of it. CHRIS PAGE: The windows just shattered before the creature emerged from the mattress. BAM STANTZ: Has anything strange or unusual happened that you can remember outside of today? Chris ponders for a moment before he states. CHRIS PAGE: Does beating Death at Battleship count? Because if so then yeah, and now that I think about it HE was there in all kinds of variants too! Bam Stantz walks in front of the bed toward the shattered floor-to-ceiling windows that hear the glass cracking under the soles of his black combat boots. He kneels down inspecting the window framing while Dr. Venkman asks.
FRED VENKMAN: Wait, so this isn’t the first time you’ve seen it? How many times, including today? CHRIS PAGE: I don’t know, like five? We hear Joe Spangler call out from the other room. JOE SPANGLER: Venkman! You need to see this! Fred joined by Bam starts to walk back into the office that has a small kitchen off the other side of the room followed by Chris. FRED VENKMAN: What do you got? Fred asks as Joe has the PKE meter directly in front of the refrigerator. The wings on the detector are fully extended out on both sides as the little red lights are a full tilt. Chris leans in over the shoulder of Bam. CHRIS PAGE: What’s that? BAM STANTZ: That’s a PKE detector. It’s used to track down paranormal activity. Fred then asks Joe. FRED VENKMAN: Have you opened it? JOE SPANGLER: Not yet. Fred turns his attention towards Bam. BAM STANTZ: Not it! Fred lets out a deep sigh while Joe turns off the P.K.E detector. JOE SPANGLER: Something is going on here. FRED VENKMAN: Fine… I’ll do it. Fred steps to the front of the line. He reaches for the handle of the fridge and as he takes hold of the handle he looks over at Joe and then back at Bam where both men give him a nod of their heads. Fred pulls the door to the fridge open… Fred slams the refrigerator shut quickly while turning around putting his back against the double doors of the stainless-steel refrigerator. FRED VENKMAN: Guys… it’s him. He’s back. It’s interesting to me that here we are on the cusp of destiny being fulfilled and yet I’m not sensing the challenge. We know what we’re going to get out of you, John. It’s the same we get out of you whenever you suddenly give a shit; three hours of drivel that dumber people have said. While you THINK this is your time in the sun you’re only here because I’ve allowed it. Something that you need to think long and hard about is a piece of this equation that you might not even know. We are walking into Detroit, Michigan… We are walking into my hometown; did you get that CRUSH? The same hometown where I’ve cut my teeth in this business in. Throughout my thirty-year career there’s been one man to beat me in my own backyard, and you sure as hell aren’t him.
Fuck man, you can’t even lead the Celtic Club to anything tangible so what makes you think you can lead yourself?
Take me for example; not only am I running circles around you as we speak but I am managing 13 pieces of talent within CCPE… Successfully. Maybe you should start taking some notes on how to be relevant within our industry cause you might learn something as opposed to shitting all over someone that is just better than you in every sense of the word. It takes a BIG time deal to pull anything that would be considered World Title level when all it takes for me is to have my name on the card.
Consistency is key.
Something nobody around here outside of Fred, Bam, and as you’ll soon see with Mr. Montouri is that you don’t have to question if we’re going to show up, you don’t have to question if we are going to give you everything we got where most of you will phone it in; which side note, talk about being disrespectful to any opponent when you refuse to give them your best from promotional work through stepping between those ropes to turn in a performance that you BOTH can be proud of. If you need any more clarification on what delivering consistently brings you to look no further than the Red Alert card itself and you’ll see four out of the last five matches on the entire show are built around CCPE. Says way more about us than it does any of you if you ask me… but again, what do I know? I’ve just been a veteran of the business that has taken it by storm while MAKING it my own. I don’t ask permission, I show up and take what I want.
… and in this instance, I want the IIW World Heavyweight Championship.
As much as most of you despise me you’ve not even bothered to get to know me. I’m not such a bad guy if you understand my intentions. Put yourself in my shoes for just a moment; you show up answering a call from a federation that threw out an open challenge for the Tag Titles. Now, I can’t speak for any of you but I can speak from PERSONAL EXPERIENCES that anytime a federation tosses out the infamous “open challenge” means they’re struggling. Facts are facts.
I showed up and honestly laughed my ass off at what I saw around here.
I questioned how IIW was in business.
I had a long conversation with Shaun Hart who explained the nature of the federation; how it was lacking real direction with the same group of mediocre talents that couldn’t go mainstream if their lives depended on it. The reigning Champion was a poser; fuck, the only credible champion at that time was Russell Wayne as a single following the defeat of the Best Friends because I instantly elevated the tag straps on name value alone. Shaun continued on about the vision that he is trying to execute but he lacked that one blasting cap that would cause the explosion that will catapult the IIW from the minor leagues to the majors.
Challenge accepted.
Do you know who else was overlooked?
You, John.
You’ve overpromised and underdelivered your entire miserable existence.
I digress.
What have I done since I’ve been here? Does anyone want to tell me? Oh yeah, I’ve risen to the occasion every time I’ve stepped through those ropes, I’m delivered primetime performances, I’ve burdened myself with taking a bland product with deflated lungs and breathing fresh breath into them inflating them back out because I’m that guy that can do it to perfection without breaking a sweat. I could take credit for the resurgence of talent coming through the doors but that’s just a no-brainer. It only took ONE name in the industry that carries weight, but instead of thanking me for saving your small pond, you condemn me because you can’t touch me.
Let me tell you what’s about to happen come Red Alert.
We walk into Ford Field in Detroit where I will restore order and respect to a Championship that hasn’t had it for almost a year. I am going to do more with it than any Champion prior because unlike you guys I’m going to defend it not just here but across the Supershow Circuit as well, but not to appease my ego that’s the size of Texas, but to put more light on this federation which is something ANY of you could have done but ELECTED not too.
John Cavanagh isn’t that man.
He’s transitional.
The reality is I could be standing in the ring with El Landerson and make him a goddamn rockstar.
Just watch as I make you all get behind John, I suspend the belief that he’s going to FINALLY grab the brass ring before I snatch that hope away and replace it with reality, ya know, where I live… and in the real world, John, I’m going to blister you like a red-headed stepchild. When this battle is done and I am standing above you with that IIW World Title in my hands I’ll take it on a run that will bring this Jake that I’ve heard so much about back into the fold as I close in on his record-breaking run on top.
The days of laziness amidst the roster have come and gone.
The days of undeserving sacks of shit occupying positions they’ve got zero business in have come and gone.
The days of complacency within the IIW are done.
I’m going to leave you with this closing thought that I am going to ask you to ponder. Many of you have made my outside schedule a point of contention like it makes me look less than because I have a stronger desire than IIW. Effective last Sunday after smoking another company’s legend I’ve put the brakes on outside competition and made the IIW my new home. What’s that look like? Allow me to tell you; that up until this point, my time has been split across multiple federations, winning gold, slaying legends, and firmly establishing why I am one of the best in the industry. Even with my time divided I’m too much for guys like Cav to contend with, so imagine how much more difficult this mountain is going to be to climb when his attention in the ring is solely wrapped around the IIW. If you ask me that’s a scary fucking thought because if you despise me now you’re going to loathe me later for there isn’t anything to take my attention away from showing each and every one of you that NONE OF YOU can be first… a whole bunch of you can be next. BAM STANTZ: Are you sure?? Bam states as he magically has a brick in hand looking around the room as a hint of paranoia sets in. Fred turns toward Joe Spangler who asks. JOE SPANGLER: It can’t be. Dr. Fred Venkman nods his head every so slightly before seeing Bam Stantz peaking around a corner of the office with his brick at the ready in his right hand. FRED VENKMAN: Really dude! Fred walks over smacking Bam in the back of the head. FRED VENKMAN: NO BRICKS! For god's sake is anyone a professional anymore? A dejected Bam mutters under his breath. BAM MILLER: Sorry. Fred, Bam. and Joe all look over at Chris who stands clearly confused by the entire situation. Chris gathers his thoughts and then asks. CHRIS PAGE: Does anyone want to enlighten me on what the hell is going on? ____________________
Just as I suspected, ole John Cavanagh comes out and bores us to death with a bunch of shit slapped together to give off the impression that he CARES. Get the fuck out here with that Dr. Roboto nonsense because you’re not impressing anyone because in order to do that you have to perform at a level longer than a week, or so that’s my view on it. Now, keep in mind I haven’t bothered to watch it yet but if you’ve done anything I haven’t already predicted I’d be impressed.
Nothing about you screams out top guy.
Nothing about you says anything but a walk in the park.
Personally, I don’t give two shits about you. You epitomize why the IIW has never been a prominent place in our industry, and as much as you want to be looked at as a leader you’re the biggest follower behind that curtain. Aren’t you one of the fucks that pitched a bitch over my time in front of a camera only to turn right around and do the same thing? It’s like complaining about outside adventures yet acknowledging another World Title on our program, that dog doesn’t hunt. The harsh reality for you and everyone else for that matter is that you don’t know how to deal with me.
You can’t just talk a bunch of nonsense under this delusion that it matters.
It doesn’t.
Why?
Because your dumbass can’t do it consistently, and CONSISTENCY is key. The only thing that you’ve been consistent at is bricking when it matters. You can cast your wide net as far and as deep as you like but it doesn’t change that there’s a reason why you’ve never hit the mountain top here in the IIW, there’s a reason why you’ve played circle jerk with guys like Crush and Jonny C, there’s a reason why the Celtic Club hasn’t done shit, there’s a reason why YOU failed to get the job done inside the Elimination Chamber. That reason has nothing to do with Shaun, nothing to do with Justin, nothing to do with anyone or anything other than YOUR lack of ability to rise to the occasion and take control of the narrative. You choose to be a bitch, I choose to be the man. There’s not a lot left for you when it comes to being the World Heavyweight Champion because that is the single biggest pipe dream I’ve ever heard anyone mutter with conviction behind it. You’re not capable, you’re not able, and you’re just not good enough to capture the brass ring let alone defend it.
This isn’t the International Title division.
This isn’t the United Kingdom division, thank God. Three defenses in seven months are a joke.
This is about bringing the limelight to an organization that YOU have been a part of for years and suddenly give a shit about because I am standing across the ring from you. It’s pathetic when you sit back and really think about it. It’s asinine to think you can stand in front of a camera and TALK for so long without taking a breath. Do you even know how to cut a promotional package? Just curious because of what I’ve seen I sure as shit can’t tell. What I can tell is the signs of a desperate man that knows just bad his ass is in a sling, what I can tell is a dude that doesn’t stand the slimmest of chances, what I do see is a guy that’s going to whine and cry a second time because he isn’t capable of beating a Chris Page knock-off let alone the real fucking thing. I am going to enjoy being the guy that solidifies you as an underachiever. Let this be a lesson over the next week or so that not even you are anywhere close to my level. ____________________
BAM STANTZ: The man you saw, it’s not the first time we’ve dealt with him. He’s a boil on the ass of the paranormal. You can try to capture him but he just finds a way to slip away and wreak havoc on the city. Chris then states. CHRIS PAGE: Why does he have a fascination with my wife? It’s not like we’ve done anything to warrant such a petty attack. JOE SPANGLER: Usually when we’ve had to deal with him it comes because you either have something he wants and in this case, you’re a professional wrestler, right? CHRIS PAGE: Amongst other things. Dr. Venkman chimes in. FRED VENKMAN: That could be something because he was a professional wrestler too. Chris then questions. CHRIS PAGE: He was? Chris thinks to himself before he continues.
CHRIS PAGE: I’ve been in that industry for over thirty years, you’d think I’d know who he is. FRED VENKMAN: Don’t worry about all that because there aren’t many people that do know about him or know who he is. BAM STANTZ: Yeah, he liked to prop up behind other stars in the organization he was competing in. JOE SPANGLER: He even wanted to be one of us, a Ghostbuster, but when we tried to give him a chance he ended up screwing himself. Now that’s something that tracks. How many times has my opponent had opportunities that he’s squandered? Hell, just a month ago I gave him a crack at the Tag titles… anyone wants to tell me how that one panned out because last time I checked those tag titles are still on my mantle. Can anyone tell me the last time he’s remotely been relevant, like at all?CHRIS PAGE: It’s just that, I mean I know just about any relevant name in the industry; James Raven. Centurion, Warstein, Dickie, Knox, any of the Staders, the list goes on and on yet I haven’t seen that face anywhere until the last six weeks or so. FRED VENKMAN: If we are going to go hunting him we have to be prepared. He’s a slippery, slimy little bastard that we cannot afford to take lightly. Bam leans in. BAM STANTZ: Are you sure I can’t use the brick? Fred cuts his eyes at Bam before lightly shaking his head from right to left. Fred reaches into a bag that’s over the shoulder of Joe Spangler. He retrieves an EMF Detector.  Fred clicks it on getting a zero baseline. CHRIS PAGE: What’s that? FRED VENKMAN: It’s an EMF detector, it detects Electro Magnetic Fields. It’s something ghosts are known to emit when they’re trying to manifest themselves. Chris then asks. CHRIS PAGE: See, that’s something else I don’t understand. JOE SPANGLER: There is a lot you’re not going to understand unless you allow yourself to. The world of the paranormal isn’t like any other world you’re going to ever want to see. There are some situations, some entities that we just can’t begin to understand because the science isn’t there. BAM STANTZ: But what is here is the fact that you have something that he wants, and he’s not going to stop at anything until he gets it. I understand that I live a life that most of you will never attain. I call myself the face of professional wrestling because you either want me or you want to talk about me. The one thing that I do better than anyone else and that causes me to stand out from a pack is eliciting a response in some form or fashion. Cav might know that if he had common sense, but clearly as he’s already shown us intelligence isn’t his strong suit as you’re all going to see come the close of this war of the words. Not only has Cav been set up but so has everyone else that thinks they have the first clue on how to handle someone of my stature. I’ve stated several times that a group of guys that love to talk about my outside ventures are the same group of guys that know they can’t hack it anywhere but their current locations.
Who does that?
The IIW old guard because apparently, they like things better when there isn’t a lot of competition to be had so that they may play hide the salami with each other while keeping their spots safe. Those days are in the rearview. Shaun Hart has promised a new era for this company and I’m the handpicked guy to lead it. I can’t help that most of you wouldn’t know your head from your ass when it comes to being a credible talent in the business that your own management team had to reach out to me to save you from yourselves. This place would be a dead-fed if it wasn’t for Shaun’s tireless dedication where people like Bob and Jenny failed, and yes, even the fearless leader in Osh.
It seems to me that Osh needs to be reminded of who the geese laying all the golden eggs because without us there isn’t an IIW for anyone.
Bold words, yeah I know.
That is what makes them true.
I understand that some of you will oppose this change, some of you will quit in protest, and some of you may even elect to see the error of your ways and join us as we change the game once again. I can’t make your choices for you, but I can offer you stardom as you’ve never seen before. Up until now, I’ve been talking about it and now that I control my own destiny I’m going to procure the IIW World Heavyweight Championship.
Don’t fool yourselves into thinking this is over.
This is just Act One.BAM STANTZ: I want to grab a reading from the bedroom. Bam starts to head back to the bedroom followed by Chris Page. He enters through the door and walks around the bed to the side of the bed with the rather large hole. The EMF meter is turned on as both Fred and Joe pop in. Bam starts to sweep the detector over the mattress where he starts getting incredibly large spikes. Bam glances over at Fred. BAM STANTZ: I don’t think he’s lying. … to be continued. |
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Post by Chris Page on Sept 13, 2022 11:32:11 GMT
Tick tock, tick tock Johnny.
Can you feel this slipping through your fingertips yet? Has the sense of just how screwed you are started to sink in because thus far I haven’t done anything but toy around with you while you’re throwing everything but the kitchen sink against the wall to see what sticks. I can smell that foul stretch of your desperation mirrors that of Crush when he tries to convince people that 3 title defenses over what… six… seven months make him a legit powerhouse to anyone other than himself.
Enough about someone that isn’t even involved in this contest, the last thing I want people to think is this is a rehash of your promotional packages back at the Chamber where my name should have been dick with how many times it came out of your mouth why you SHOULD have been focused on your opponents; probably why you wasn’t smart enough to raise your goddamn shoulder up off the mat.
Can we talk about that for just a second?
Of COURSE we can because this is my time and you’re all on my clock.
How does a man that’s the freshest in the Chamber not in better shape than outlasting a dude that started first? Who do you think you’re kidding? Like, seriously? All you had to do was roll a shoulder and whatever validation you seek comes true… but you bricked! It’s insane to me that I have to pretend that someone of your stature belongs in the same ring as me but I guess that’s one of the reasons whenever any federation gets their ass in a crack that call the man with the Midas touch to bail them out… I don’t hear your phone ringing.
And yeah I get it, you don’t care. Whoopie DOO!
Let me pretend like I haven’t heard that one spouted off by literally everyone that can’t hang with me. I am not content until not only I have made my point when it comes to this industry. Respect is what I’m going to beat into you in front of a massive house drawn on my back because I am the only Clydesdale on this roster that welcomes the pressure of not only putting those asses in those seats but draws more eyes to YOU just like I’ve done to every other member that has sat on the sidelines pretending to be this larger than life star.
Talk is fucking cheap when it comes ninety-nine percent of you.
I digressed from my point, apologies. I’ll try to stick to the task at hand; so back to it. How was it you couldn’t kick out? Lack of energy? Dehydration? No wait… it was Shaun Hart, right? Because Shaun Hart controls what your body does, right? Get the fuck out of here with ALL of those excuses brother because excuses are like assholes… we all got them, and they all stink. You should probably stop casting blame on others for your shortcomings. Just man up and admit that you are the punchline of the joke because you are the IIW’s biggest choke artist on the roster. New Flash buttercup, that ain’t changing at Red Alert. You are walking into the house that Page built where I am going to thoroughly enjoy exposing you as the nothing happing chode that you’ve always been. Your job is to simply show up prepared to eat a hard loss clean and clear in the middle of the ring by my hands. There isn’t going to be any room for error, my man. The last thing I’m coming to Detroit to do is pussyfoot around just how much I am salivating at the opportunity to squash another homegrown under the sole of my boot. You won’t be able to blame Shaun for your shortcomings, you won’t be able to do a damn thing but take your broken down ass back to your hotel room so you can curl up in a fetal position in a corner and cry about being subpar within an industry that’s passed you by. I get it, man, it’s easier to blame others as opposed to taking ownership of your actions and in this case, your actions of being a weak bitch are on firm display for me to further exploit on our road to Red Alert. Management didn’t even put a poster together for this event. Do you know why? Because they didn’t have to, I sold this stadium out and had they put out that I was wasting my time with a talentless chode I’m not so sure that even I would have been able to have saved the ticket sales. Can anyone tell me the last time Cav drew a house for this federation? I’ll wait.  ___________________ Continued from: iiwefed.boards.net/thread/1421/world-championship-match-chris-page “It’s a long story.” The scene opens back at the Ghostbusters Headquarters as we are back in the office of Dr. Fred Venkman where we find Dr. Venkman standing with his back to Chris Page, Bam Stantz, and Joe Spangler with the framed article in his hand. Fred turns around facing his team and his client. FRED VENKMAN: The man’s name you heard is a guy that was once one of us. Chris chimes in. CHRIS PAGE: He was a Ghostbuster? Fred shakes off Chris’s question. FRED VENKMAN: He was in training to become one of us. CHRIS PAGE: What happened? FRED VENKMAN: I’m trying to tell you if you stop asking questions. Growing up in our industry I was raised on asking questions. In this instance, a question that I’ll pose is how someone like John Cavanagh can stake claim to anything other than being a charity case. The dude hasn’t done a damn thing but led a failing faction over the last eight months while I’ve ascended to the top of the mountain. How can a guy that’s done literally nothing suddenly have the gumption to think he can stand in the ring and box with God? I mean, don’t get me wrong… it’s cute and all if you live in a fantasy world. I’ve sat through his piss poor attempts at trying to throw the proverbial “fire” in my direction that brought a chuckle from me because you can’t try to tell me that I’m nothing when I’m the guy that has kicked the IIW in the nuts since day one let alone my laundry list of accomplishments that exceed this acronym. FRED VENKMAN: When you walked into my office and mentioned the name Cav I wanted you to be wrong. It’s the name of one of the biggest underachievers walking the planet. Bam chimes in. BAM STANTZ: What we do isn’t easy and people will try to pretend that anyone can do it. CHRIS PAGE: How did it happen? Joe then responds. JOE SPANGLER: We carry a lot of equipment that hasn’t been regulated by any authorities; one of our items is a proton pack. The biggest rule with the Proton Packs is that… JOE SPANGLER: He crossed the streams and spontaneously combusted. What we don’t know is if he’s dead or if he crossed over into some other alternate reality. CHRIS PAGE: None of this makes sense. BAM STANTZ: It’s not something easy to completely comprehend as an outsider looking in. There are things in this world that aren’t even going to be understood, phenomena that goes on around us every day that nobody pays attention to. FRED VENKMAN: If there is an alternate reality there might be a chance that he can be saved. For some reason, he’s elected to use your wife as a way to come back through to our world. Chris sits with a look of befuddlement etched on his face. FRED VENKMAN: It’s not easy to understand that ghosts are real, alternate realities are real, and sometimes the universes meet for what will be a monumental clash. That clash for you John is right here, right now. You have had a tendency to write a lot of checks your ass can’t cash and this chance encounter isn’t any different. I could have named any stipulation I chose but I want you in an environment where you have to rely on yourself. The finger-pointing, the blaming others for your own imperfections isn’t going to be in the equation. Your back is against the wall while you are on the defensive, already rebuttal the bitter truths about your level of suckiness. You’d think by now that you would understand the more you try to tell me something I’ve said isn’t true the more you are validating that it actually is if you’re not displaying any evidence that supports you. No offense, but your word doesn’t mean shit… side note, neither do you.
FRED VENKMAN: This could be that clash. Before anything further can be said a loud bell starts ringing causing Fred, Bam, and Joe to spring into action as they all hurry through a side door to Dr. Venkman’s office prompting Chris to ask.
CHRIS PAGE: What the hell is that? Seconds pass before stepping back out from the side room all in brown coveralls are the Ghostbusters. JOE SPANGLER: It’s one thing to talk about it… Meanwhile, we fade out into the reception area where we find Janine is seen sitting at her desk filing her nails without a care in the world until the phone rings at her desk. Bam Stantz flips a light switch that illuminates a light over… BAM STANTZ: My baby. Bam states with a sly smirk on his face as all four gazes at the sheer beauty that is the GhostMobile. CHRIS PAGE: Whoa. BAM STANTZ: I know. FRED VENKMAN: Let’s roll! Bam comes around the car's hood to the driver’s side while Joe Spangler opens the passenger side door. He gets into the car closing the door behind him while Fred opens the back passenger side door. He turns his head back toward Chris. FRED VENKMAN: You coming? A split second of hesitation before Chris Page gets into the supped-up station wagon followed by Fred who closes the door behind them. Bam starts up the car flipping a switch that kickstarts and the infamous sound is known all throughout Manhattan. Joe, Bam, and Fred are the first out of the car where they reach the back of the GhostMobile where the door is opened by Spangler, and a large conveyor is pulled out revealing four proton packs. Fred grabs one, Bam grabs one, Joe grabs one as Chris gets out of the car. The Ghostbusters strap on their packs before storming through the doors of The Sedgewick Hotel with Fred taking the lead, Bam Stantz to his left, and Joe Spangler to his right. FRED VENKMAN: ANYONE SEEN SOME GHOSTS!?! The busy lobby isn’t appeased as the hotel manager hurries over in a black tuxedo as Chris walks in through the double doors last. MANAGER: If we could keep our voices down Mr.?? FRED VENKMAN: Venkman, Doctor Venkman. MANAGER: Please come with me. The manager of the Sedgewick leads the team through the lobby getting strange looks from the guests in the lobby toward the elevator. MANAGER: The guests are starting to ask questions and I am running out of excuses. JOE SPANGLER: What’s going on? MANAGER: Most of the employees know about the issues on the 12th Floor but the owners don’t like to address them. FRED VENKMAN: Has anyone reported it? MANAGER: Heaven’s no. BAM SPANTZ: Pfft, rather keep it quiet than soiling your reputation. MANAGER: I hope we can handle this discreetly. They reach the elevator where a guest is waiting, smoking a cigar. GUEST: What are you supposed to be? FRED VENKMAN: We’re exterminators, someone saw a rat on twelve. The guest eyes up the three of them and then Chris who just shrugs. GUEST: That’s some rat. The elevator dings before the doors open. FRED VENKMAN: Bite your head off man. Bam, Joe, and Chris step onto the elevator followed by Fred. Chris leans back out asking the guest, CHRIS PAGE: Going up? GUEST: I’ll wait. You and I are past discretion, aren’t we John? While this is just another Sunday, what entices me to walk all over you is to continue skull fucking all of my haters at every turn. When you are looked at as the tippy top of the business you tend to have the masses gunning for you professionally as well as personally. It comes with the territory, and it’s something that I’ve been dealing with for the majority of my career. What makes this important to me has nothing to do with my opponent and everything to do with leaving as YOUR World Heavyweight Champion.
Can anyone tell me who is more fitting to wear that crown?
Who has made more of an impact than me?
Who has dropped everyone that has been placed in front of him, including the man standing across from me come Red Alert?
That would be me.
Who has maintained a solid work rate?
Who continues to strive to PUSH others to elevate their game?
Oh shit, that’s me, again.
Who has been patient enough to wait this long for this one moment in time where everything will be right with the world?
Chris Page.
Do you know what else makes me better than you, John? I don’t have to waste my time saying the name of Justin York twelve times in my promotional packages to try and make the dumbest of fucking points. You did the EXACT same thing with me when you tried to tell the world that the title was just going to be given to me. Now, why is it you would willingly waste so much time on a mother fucker that was fired, or so says the bio?
I’ll tell you!
Window dressing.
The big bad wolf one Cavanagh DESPERATELY wants everyone to believe he is actually isn’t comfortable enough in his own abilities to cut a freaking promo that he HAS to involve other people that aren’t here to push his narrative while I’m here slapping you around like you stole my money; and well, technically you have every time I am forced to watch you compete. Now, you throw out how I am here thinking this is a forgone conclusion…
It is.
You can occupy four times the TV time trying to convince the world you belong but you’ve already started spitting the same shit from months back through as recent as the package you put out LOSING the tag title opportunity. You’d think you’d be smart enough to learn from your mistakes but yet here you are making the same ones over and over and over again. No wonder you’ve not amounted to anything more than a jobber to the stars. The elevator door opens up on the 12th Floor. CHRIS PAGE: Now what? Dr. Venkman takes the lead as he points down one side of a long hallway. FRED VENKMAN: Bam, Joe… you guys go that way. Chris, you come with me. Bam and Joe head down one side of the hallway while Fred and Chris head in the opposite direction. CHRIS PAGE: You guys really think you can stop this if it’s as serious as you think? FRED VENKMAN: Chris, I can’t tell you either way. You’ve been targeted for a reason, and it’s up to us to help you find out what that is. Joe Spangler has the PKE meter out and is seen taking it around a door frame as we fade to the other side of the hotel. Bam turns the corner where he comes face to face with…  Bam comes back around the corner where he whispers loudly. BAM STANTZ: Venkman! VENKMAN! There’s nothing heard coming from the hallway as Bam continues to watch this slimer creature eat from a room service cart. BAM STANTZ: I guess it’s up to me. Bam takes the trigger of the Proton Pack from its holster. He clicks it on before taking aim at the green blob. He hits the trigger shooting an explosive ray from the barrel of the trigger toward the green blob! He hits the cart itself sending the green blob hightailing it down the hallway to the end where it smacks and disappears. We cut back to the other side of the hotel on the twelfth floor to find Fred and Chris turning a corner. It’s at the end of the hall the green blurb rests staring back at both Fred and Page. CHRIS PAGE: Call me crazy, but that’s NOT what I saw. FRED VENKMAN: I know. CHRIS PAGE: What do we do? FRED VENKMAN: Don’t move. Suddenly Chris sneezes which in turn rattles the green blob which starts shooting toward them at an increasingly fast rate! FRED VENKMAN: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Chris shoves Fred Venkman out of the way causing the green blob to smash into Page before smashing into the wall and disappearing once again leaving Chris laying covered in some sort of mucus. It’s not the first time I’ve been put on my back even if those times are few and far between. Cav, you should be patting yourself on the back for being the only man to gain any kind of upper hand on me. Unfortunately for you, it’s crystal clear that is a one-and-done because everyone can get lucky, once. It’s just a shame you weren’t able to get lucky when it mattered. Now, considering you are a walking contradiction if there ever was one and have done everything I said you’d do now it’s my time to bury you using your own words.
How hard is it for you to pay attention?
I ask because I’ve made it clear my intention of calling this a standard singles match. It has nothing to do with any of the bullshit you WANT it to and everything to do with not leaving you an excuse for your next big failure. How hard is that to comprehend? I thought about many different avenues to take but this one here is pretty foil-proof when it comes to a dude that couldn’t kick out of a fucking German Suplex. You give yourself way too much credibility without credentials to back it. Just because you’re from Hell’s Kitchen doesn’t make you a badass; it makes you a fruitcake.
A REAL MAN can kick out of a German.  Once again, since you are dumb enough to continue harping on it like it’s some point of content, it didn’t matter WHO left with the World Title at the Elimination Chamber because the title is coming to daddy in just a matter of days. Again, do I need to speak slower for you to understand? I know the education system in Hell’s Kitchen isn’t a benchmark by any means. Listening to you go on and on and on about stuff that has NO MERIT on anything is a complete waste of yours and my time let alone the people that are unfortunate enough to have to sit through one of your tirades about fucking nothing.
The filler material is what I like to call it.
Masks the fact that you don’t have anything substantial to say while giving off the illusion that you do. That shit works for the lower card, which I know, is where you’re accustomed to being; but here at the grown folk's table, you have to at least give off the impression you belong here. Thus far you’ve not proven that you belong anywhere BUT the kiddie table. I’ll go grab you a high chair.
I mean if you couldn’t get any dumber you legit tried to tell me that I have a superiority complex and that my shit doesn’t stink.
Last time I checked I am undefeated.
Last time I checked I’ve slaughtered everyone which means something here.
Last time I checked YOU haven’t amounted to anything more than a punchline. So yeah, allow me to congratulate you on POINTING OUT THE OBVIOUS! Someone get this guy a cookie because he can reiterate my own point, I mean how many times have I openly called out my own fucking ego? And I didn’t have to waste five minutes setting it up to call it. So, now that we can agree that I am better than you; because ya know, by YOU statement implies that your shit does stink by default means YOU agree that I’m the cat’s meow, what’s that say about you? It’s cute to see that you have put so much thought into how you wanted to regurgitate your previous statements but now is where I’m going to make you choke on them.
I don’t have to outsmart you, bud.
I do that when I wake up in the morning and open my eyes.
I just wonder how you’re going to feel when you wake up Monday morning to an empty house while I will be waking up with the IIW World Heavyweight Championship on my nightstand. Order is going to be restored to the top of the mountain by my hands. An Irishman doesn’t beat a Page; not in this story or any other. FRED VENKMAN: I can’t believe your sacrificed yourself for me! Bam Stantz comes running around the corner to find Chris laying on the floor covered in a slimy substance as Fred kneels beside him helping Chris up off the floor. BAM STANTZ: I saw the green slimer… Bam takes full notice of the slime dripping off Chris Page. BAM STANTZ: Oh. Bam glances over at Fred. BAM STANTZ: You saw it too. FRED VENKMAN: Of course I did. Bam starts looking around taking notice that Joe Spangler isn’t anywhere in sight. BAM STANTZ: Has anyone seen Joe? Just then over a walkie-talkie is the voice of Joe Spangler breaking through. JOE SPANGLER: Guys you have to get down here, it just went into one of the ballrooms… and it’s not alone. Bam takes his walkie off his hip and responds. BAM STANTZ: Joe you’re not going to believe it! Page got slimed! Joe responds. JOE SPANGLER: Save me a sample. Chris flings his arms sending slime sailing around him. Bro, did you seriously try to take things in a direction that the IIW is the most prestigious place on the planet? Of course, you did! Dude, let’s cut the shit because the narrative that this place was anything but subpar before my arrival isn’t exaggerated statements. CCPE is a GLOBAL force that runs roughshod over many organizations that are greater than the IIW. I’m sorry to burst that bubble; but since you saw fit to bring it up can you explain to me what YOU’VE done to make this company mean anything?
I see no social media presence.
I see no promoting the brand.
I see you doing NOTHING.
Not only you, my man, all the homegrowns. WHY THE FUCK DO YOU THINK THEY CALLED ME!?!?!?! How many times do we have to cover this before reality sinks in over the imaginary horseshit you want to throw out for the masses?
Correct me if I am wrong- but didn’t you also tout the fact you were running as the man in First Class? Let me give you a round of applause for pulling rank in an organization that doesn’t exist anymore, but you’re right… I don’t give a fuck about what you’ve done elsewhere YEARS ago because anything that I tout out is CURRENT information. Like when I tell you I kicked the shit out of an SCW Legend last fucking Sunday, I kicked the shit out of him last Sunday. You got it all wrong, color me surprised, but this isn’t about what YOU’VE accomplished in First Class my man, and everything to do with what you’ve accomplished in the IIW.
Have you won the World Title?
Nope.
Did you kick out of a German?
Nope.
Have you done anything recently that labels you as a threat to anyone but yourself?
Nope.
But anyway… wasn’t First Class the chick brand? No wait, Osh purchased the rights to the name so you fucks could look back on your younger years in the sport… and it died, again! Good job fuck boy, next time you try to talk about your past maybe you do so with relevant shit and open organizations. You’re so trying to be me it’s beyond funny. If Justin was the third rate Chris Page you’re not even a fifth rate. No wonder he was pissed that he didn’t get that win. You are completely worthless.
Continuing on with the mounds of drivel; you asked me where was I when Osh started writing checks? I’ll need you to be a little more specific because while your attempts at being a smart ass are noted; they failed, much like you’ve done trying to replicate a history lesson. If I need to run my resume I was busy winning World Titles EVERYWHERE I’ve been while you have been busy playing second fiddle to the same Jonny C that “couldn’t beat you in First Class.”. What the fuck is this? I thought I was supposed to have some competition but instead yall serving me up another bitch ass rook? … and bro, clearly you know nothing about me. Podcasting has only been a thing for a year or two on my side of the coin, and I’m pretty sure Osh has been writing checks way longer than that. Did you just Crush yourself by rattling off anything that sounds clever inside that noodle of yours because the logic of the statement alone makes about as much sense as a two-year-old reading Oliver Twist?
So the question is- every year there’s a top 100 list that goes out.
Not that you would know ANYTHING about it but allow me to enlighten you as it further solidifies how much shit you’re full of. It’s a poll that’s voted on by EVERY wrestler that chooses to vote. Last year was the first year that I elected to take part and I took 22 out of 100- so, if the only people that give a shit about me are the worthless ones I surround myself with then it’s pretty safe to say there isn’t enough worthless to rack up that vote count; better question, where were you on that list? Oh yeah, not there. Go fucking figure. You talk as if it’s a BAD thing to promote yourself. For a guy that’s been around as long as you have you’d think you would know a thing or two about creating that buzz. Then again… you have wasted the first piece of your promo time talking about anything and everything BUT Red Alert while I’ll just continue making you my bitch using your own words.
This deflection game you got going is the weakest of the weak homie.
This is about the World Heavyweight Championship and you’re out trying to make about anything BUT your shortcomings with opportunities that you’ve been presented with. Now take a look at me; take a look at what I’ve done with mine. The opportunity to walk in and win a championship.
Check.
The opportunity to step into the ring with the IIW’s own unstoppable monster. Beat him.
Check.
The opportunity to carry a War Games team on my back to get Osh control of his company back?
Check.
The same cannot be said for you my man because you’re nothing more than a glorified fuck up. You can’t take that fact to spin class, you can’t change that narrative regardless of how many times you try. But do you know what the kicker is with you when you try to tell me who cares and who doesn’t? Do you think I value the opinion of a talentless chode that wouldn’t know how to keep himself on top if your life depended on it?
Remember dude, German suplex.
I loved your picture display, although you look like you’ve packed on a few pounds… and who is the fat guy hugging you? Now, I was going to save this one for you but since you wanted to try me let’s go there now. It doesn’t matter how you slice it my man this is what you WANT the world to see when they think of John Cavanagh…
 … but this is what we actually see.  ___________________ We fade downstairs into the lobby just outside of a set of double doors where we find The Ghostbusters and Chris Page with the hotel manager. BAM STANTZ: Keep everyone clear. Bam states to the hotel manager as they open the door to the ballroom and step into the room. We fade inside where at least sixty white-skirted oval tables and chairs can be seen. There’s a small platform stage with a long-skirted table. Fred peers in through a curtain with a strange pair of goggles covering his eyes. FRED VENKMAN: I don’t see anything. Fred glances up to a huge chandelier that hangs over the center of the room where the green slimer is circling the top of it. FRED VENKMAN: I got him. CHRIS PAGE: Didn’t Joe say he wasn’t alone? Joe chimes in. JOE SPANGLER: There are two of them. Just as Joe makes that statement a second slimer emerges and circles the chandelier before absorbing into one bigger entity. FRED VENKMAN: He’s a bigger boy now. Are we still talking about my fan base through the eyes of John Cavanagh? Apparently so because that seems to be a thing for him. I could easily continue discrediting his own opinion with backable facts but at this point, it’s getting old and played out, so now I’ll only focus on the most egregious of bullshit from a dude that wishes so desperately to be me. That’s right Johnny, you hate me so much because I am everything that you’re not. I am known around the world, and I am looked at as one the greatest to step into the ring, I make more money in one podcast than you make in a month.
There is a lot to be jealous about, and not only do I not blame you but I expect it.
I can call you a dime a dozen because you are. You’ve legit said the same shit so many others have said, and all of them think they’re breaking ground when the truth is you’re hiding behind your insecurities. Unfortunately for you, I don’t hate you, I don’t care enough about you to hate you because that would give you some sort of power… you know, like you’ve given me by just opening your mouth. I honestly can’t believe how much of my time you wasted with that first piece of crap you call a promotional package. It was like watching the dumbest kid on the short bus trying to complete a sentence. JOE SPANGLER: Let’s take him down, but remember… don’t cross the streams. Joe and Bam tiptoe through the curtain followed by Fred. They fan out and remove their proton triggers from the holsters. You hear them power up while Fred removes the goggles from his eyes. FRED VENKMAN: THROW EM’ They hit the triggers dispersing energy out from the triggers smashing into the chandelier causing it to fall from the ceiling and shatter down onto the ground! The Slimer flies at Bam who dives out of the way knocking over a table. You can hear the havoc being wrecked outside as hotel guests start to crowd around while several hotel employees are standing guard at the door. JOE SPANGLER: OVER THERE! Fred throws his proton flare in the direction of the slimer where it wraps around its body. Bam and Joe throw there as well. We see Chris grab a trap off the waist of Spangler as he throws it under the slimer and engages it! A bright light illuminates from the trap as Fred, Bam, and Joe lower the Slimer down into the trap before Page stomps on the clicker causing it to close up. CHRIS PAGE: Holy shit! The Ghostbusters power down their proton packs and put the triggers back into the holsters. FRED VENKMAN: Those were some pretty quick reflexes. CHRIS PAGE: I saw an opportunity to help, and I took it. Bam reaches down picking up the smokey trap. BAM STANTZ: It’s in there. FRED VENKMAN: Yeah it is! Joe takes a good long look around at the mess they’ve created while capturing the creature. He shakes his head when we suddenly fade outside the ballroom where the Sedgewick manager is calming some guests. The doors to the ballroom open from the inside. FRED VENKMAN: We came, we saw, we kicked its ass! That sounds exactly like what I’m doing with you, Cav. What I’ve gathered from you thus far; let's run the list. You’ve attacked my fan base, you’ve attacked CCPE, you’ve used Justin York, you’ve given a history lesson about you from federations that aren’t around anymore, and you’ve clearly not listened to the words I’ve said as you seem to think you’re smarter than a fifth grader yet clearly you didn’t pass that test… but you haven’t come at me.
Why?
Oh yeah because you can’t dispute facts. You can’t mask the facts, and you sure as shit can’t deny them either. For a guy that spent SOOOOOOO much time trying to pretend to be me you have GOT to do better when it comes to talking that trash because this is amateur hour at best when it comes to you. Did I ever say the IIW locker room would come to your aid? Nope. So why try to incorporate that into your narrative surrounding a singles match? Oh yeah, because you don’t want to answer why the fuck has it taken the great and powerful John Cav THIS long to get to the Main Event within IIW? The man that ran, what was it called again? Oh yeah, First Class, or what was that other acronym that isn’t in business either? Not important, but for a man that’s run two organizations you’d think you could kick out of a German-fucking-Suplex.
I dunno what’s funnier.
The fact that you’ve played right into my hands like a good little boy, or the words you’ve thrown at me IS the best you’ve got. I don’t have to know the whole hell of a lot about you to know that you don’t get stronger as we go you only get weaker. You did it in the Chamber, you’re going to repeat your actions here with me while I continue to smack you around like I’m taking candy from a baby. You do understand you can’t play a badass or expect people to take you for one when you have no credibility in the IIW, right? Hell’s Kitchen birthed IIW’s biggest bitch when you popped out of your mama’s loose cooter. You might as well have Peppermint Patty cutting your promo for you because legit you could be twins. Bro the next time you want to try me you REALLY need to stop with the lies. They’re so easy to dispute- I give you just a nugget of bait and you swallow it like you’re sucking on the tip of a cock at a climax.
I don’t know what’s dumber; what you’ve produced here or a kid pulling on a door that says push.
I’m for real when I say this shit sounds like it was produced by a toddler.MANAGER: Did you get it? Bam Stantz holds up the trap displaying even more smoke coming from the inside. BAM STANTZ: We did, a real nasty one too. Joe can be seen writing up something on a receipt book. He tears it from the book and hands it to the manager who takes one look at the number and states.
MANAGER: That’s ridiculous, I won’t pay it. FRED VENKMAN: We’re just going to go put it back where we got it. MANAGER: No! No! I’ll pay for it! __________________ Returning to the Ghostbusters headquarters we find Bam, Joe, Fred, and Chris as they are headed downstairs to the basement level of the building. CHRIS PAGE: What do you do with them once they’re caught? JOE SPANGLER: We’re about to show you our containment unit. Bam leads the way with the trap in hand. He walks over to a massive wall-mounted unit.  BAM STANTZ: The containment unit is right here. You take the trap and slide it into the unit. Bam opens the trap holder and slides the trap inside. Closes the trap holder causing the red light to come on. He flips a side switch causing the red light to go green. JOE SPANGLER: The light is green, the trap is clean. Chris looks on before stating. CHRIS PAGE: Nice! Fred pats Chris on the back as he states. FRED VENKMAN: Follow me to my office, I want to ask you something, privately. Fred motions back upstairs as he starts to head up followed by Chris Page. They reach the top of the stairs and into the office of Dr. Venkman. Fred takes a seat behind his desk while motioning for Chris to take a seat which he does. FRED VENKMAN: While we were out I had Janine pull some research on your wife’s business. Come to find out it was built upon a paranormal hotspot for decades. Her bedroom is at its peak which might explain why all of a sudden some activity started happening. CHRIS PAGE: That doesn’t explain hearing the name Cav. We both heard it, so what does that mean?
FRED VENKMAN: I had her pull some more research on that as well. Now, you said you are a professional wrestler by trade? So was he. For the first time, Dr. Venkman shows Chris a picture of Cav. FRED VENKMAN: He never really amounted to a whole lot in his later years and was always a guy that resorted to his past accomplishments from yesteryears because in his later years he just seems to lose a step or two. Dr. Venkman then continues. FRED VENKMAN: He eventually passed on after a brain bleeds following his failure to procure the IIW World Heavyweight Championship. Apparently, he cried so much about not being able to kick out of a German Suplex he just couldn’t take it anymore. Chris then states. CHRIS PAGE: That might be why I am not familiar with him, I associate with successes in the industry over the talentless hacks that are better suited in dark matches. Or those that try to profess the Celtic Club is some dominant force after they got smacked by yours truly for the Tag Titles not even a month ago. You do understand that it’s hard to force feed that bullshits to anyone that HAS paid any attention to you, right? It’s like you’re so desperate to make all these moot points that facts easily bury.
Again, I thought this was going to be a challenge.
This has turned into the easiest slaughter of the modern era.
I don’t have to rely on propping myself up on my reputation from federations that don’t exist anymore or are out of business, I don’t have to tell the world that CCPE holds Championships in six organizations, I don’t have to shout from the rooftops that I matter… I just have to show up. Can you say the same thing? Of course you can’t because you to busy focusing on what I WANT you to focus on rather than what you NEED to be focused on.
One day you’ll pull your head out of your ass, it’s just not going to be as the IIW World Champion. FRED VENKMAN: He may be targeting you because of your reputation, because of your stature, and because you are everything that he is not… Successful. CHRIS PAGE: Well, I mean I do have a lot of irons in the fire within my industry, and it would make sense for a bitter and jaded has been to get jealous over my longevity within the business. FRED VENKMAN: He’s planning something, remember I said we’ve dealt with this before. CHRIS PAGE: Yeah. FRED VENKMAN: If we are going to bust this ghost we’re going to need your help. It’s not going to be easy, and as you’ve witnessed tonight that this line of work comes with its own dangers. This isn’t easy by any means. Fred pauses for just a moment before asking. FRED VENKMAN: You’ve proven that you aren’t one to crack under pressure, and I wouldn’t be asking you this if it wasn’t imperative to our success. So, will join us to catch this ghost. Chris responds. CHRIS PAGE: If it means getting Candice back then the answer is a resounding yes. Chris extends his hand out over Fred’s desk. Dr. Venkman smiles as he shakes Chris’s hand. CHRIS PAGE: When do we start? FRED VENKAMN: We already have. Whoever is feeding you lines needs to be shot because only an idiot would make these kinds of statements. Are you pulling another Crush? Yep. What makes me better than you is the fact I CAN kick out of a German Suplex, what makes me better than you is I HAVE defeated you and your Celtic Club, what makes me better than you is, I dunno, I am undefeated in YOUR HOUSE while you wouldn’t know a substantial win if it slapped you in the face. Damn dude, I even beat the dude that YOU COULDN’T beat at the Chamber; so yeah, keep showing that ignorance because it’s far from bliss. You got more holes in your approach than Swiss Cheese.
Ultimately you can keep pretending that you stand a chance.
You can keep pretending that your name means something.
You can keep pretending that you are going to FINALLY claim your first World Title in years…
… and I’ll continue living in the real world where the only way you leave with that strap is over my dead body. Last time I checked, Hell’s Kitchen boys aren’t capable of handling that responsibility but it does beg to question, where was all this a few weeks ago? Where was all this confidence with the Celtic Club? You know, the group that I can’t touch but ALREADY BEATEN? Maybe if you displayed it back then it would hold some weight now. Oh… and for the record… I’ve beaten you, have you beaten me?
Nah… I didn’t think so either.
JOE SPANGLER: VENKMAN!! We hear Joe’s voice carrying through the office of Dr. Venkman. Both Fred and Chris get up as they hear more voices arguing coming from downstairs in the basement. Fred and Chris start back down the stairs to find an NYPD officer, an electrician in a hard hat, and a guy in a suit…  FRED VENKMAN: What’s going on here! Joe and Bam hold a position in front of the containment unit as the man introduces himself. “Are you the leader of this?” Fred nods his head. “My name is William Osh, and I represent the Environmental Protection Agency, and you men are in violation of more than half a dozen environmental sanctions. Shut all this off.” William Osh barks out at utility work. FRED VENKMAN: If you shut that off we aren’t going to be held responsible. WILLIAM OSH: Oh we’re going to see about that. Chris Page speaks out from the stairs. CHRIS PAGE: What the fuck is your problem? These guys are here making a difference in the bigger picture, not that I’d expect someone like you to comprehend it. WILLIAM OSH: You shut your mouth! CHRIS PAGE: Or? Whatcha going to do? Tell me I’m a loser or worthless? Try to convince me that you’re better than me? Bruh, it’s easy to talk from down there with a badge by your side. Let’s step outside and see if that mouth is smart then. William cuts his attention toward the police officer. WILLIAM OSH: I’m through listening to all this crap. I have the court order. Exercise it! The police officer spouts back out. POLICE OFFICER: You do your job and I’ll do mine. William Osh steps to the side allowing the Utility worker to come forth. WILLIAM OSH: Turn it off. Fred attempts one last plea. FRED VENKMAN: This is the last thing you want to do. WILLIAM OSH: I’ll be the judge of that. William gives a head nod to the utility worker who lets out a deep exhale and makes his way to the breaker box. BAM STANTZ: Don’t do it. As the Utility worker nears the breaker box we see Joe and Bam ease their way closer to the staircase leading upstairs. The Utility worker opens the box and flips off the breakers. Within seconds the containment unit starts rumbling and shaking, and white smoke starts to bellow out from the container. CHRIS PAGE: RUN! With quickness The Ghostbuster haul ass up the stairs followed by the police officer, William Osh, and the Utility worker. Up the stairs and toward the front door with everyone narrowly escaping before the Containment unit explodes sending a ray of energy shattering the third-story ceiling into the skies above. Let’s start taking exerts now from Mr. Cav, shall we?
“You’re the type of punk to play that bullshit political game behind the curtains.”
Do you know what is funny about that? I’m not the one that threatened to quit over not being able to KICK OUT of a German Suplex, and I play politics? Correct me if I’m wrong but wasn’t there a group of you hamming it up behind the curtain comparing us to the Mean Girls? Buddy the last thing I HAVE TO DO is play politics, the last thing I HAVE to do is brown nose an owner yet it’s crystal fucking clear that while you’re hurling that at me perhaps you’re thinking more about yourself. But since you want to go there let’s go! You’re the type of prick that makes baseless allegations to cover up for being nothing more than the bitch that everyone’s dick has been inside of on more than one occasion, you’re the guy that WILL run off and quit when you’re defeated by my hands. The reality is I might not be looked at as the odd’s on favorite when it comes down to the popularity contest that takes place behind a closed door. It’s because of that contest that you are even here to begin with.
Explain to me how I play politics?
Was it political when I stepped on Crush’s nuts?
Was it political when I punted an ankle-biter?
Was it political when I did what YOU couldn’t and beat Team Friendship?
Nah, it wasn’t.
It’s sure as hell not going to be political when I leave my own backyard carrying something that you’ve not been good enough carrying for years- a World Heavyweight Championship. I know you’re a little butt-hurt, my podcasts draw more viewers than ANYTHING you put out. It’s okay though, maybe one day you’ll be as over as you think and they wouldn’t have had to call me, to begin with.
Fuck man, this is EASY!
I’ve never seen someone say so much while not saying anything at all. What the fuck do my podcasts have to do with this? What does CCPE have to do with this? What does Justin York have to do with this other than YOU not being able to beat him either? I find irony in your approach to this because you’ve thrown everything you could at me that has jack and shit to do with US. It’s eye-rolling, truly it is. Now, we both know the only reason you occupied that much television time is because you had four weeks to produce it, and we also know that you’ve not said anything that you haven’t said before for those who actually go back and look at your past. You’re the king of the broken record.
One more reason why you’ll never be on my level.
It’s insane how far you’ve gone this far to try and save some face, and while I nodded off a few times throughout your release I can’t help but think you had a five-year-old feeding you lines because that’s how remedial you sound trying to spit out so much easily disprovable nonsense. It’s like you subscribe to Jonny C Weekly or some shit. Oh wait, you probably do. You’ve already screwed yourself.
… and it’s only going to get worse from here.
Question for ya.
Is this a drug trip? I mean you seem to think so, right? Good, that’s going to be the nail in your coffin when you speak on things you have no concept of. Remember that little lamb because you’re only leading yourself to slaughter. Here is something else that’s just so mind-boggling with you and EVERYTHING you had to say. How many times did you speak on the SAME shit? Dude, you could have at least put it all together appropriately instead of coming across like some weak inferior with attention deficit disorder. With so much time to work on it, it’s incredible that you can’t see the errors of your ways. It’s a cool story to attack my outside accomplishments while being one of the ones behind that curtain to bitch about them being used. It’s a cool story to see you bounce around like a ping pong ball making zero points throughout all those words you elected to speak.
There’s no denying that you WANT to be me.
Who doesn’t?
Who doesn’t want to have the admiration and respect of industry over a cingular federation? Who doesn’t want to employ thirteen talents and occupy championships throughout multiple CREDIBLE federations THAT ARE OPEN? Jesus dude, it truly must suck to be you with the desperation sweating out from your pours. You do realize just how easy you’re making this, right? Of course, you don’t because you think you can spout off anything and that makes it real. It makes about as much sense as Crush pretending to be a “good guy” while acting like a “bad guy”. It makes about as much sense as Jonny C accepting my challenge many months back and making excuses for not going to Osh to make it happen. Do you see where we’re going with this? Of course, you don’t because your dumbass can’t punch yourself out of a wet paper sack let alone stand toe to toe, move for move, word for word with someone like me who is just flat out better than you.
It’s okay to admit it, John.
What really sucks for you is the lowest member on the CCPE totem pole is MORE successful than you have been. Talk about a loser.  If you loaded me up this much with your first flawed attempt I can’t wait to see what you do next because the nails are already being driven into that oversized coffin of yours. At the end of the day, you can deflect as much as you’d like and I’ll be right here to set you straight and further expose why you don’t belong here. I’ll continue to make you look like a fifth-class performer because nothing you’ve managed to say takes away from these facts.
Chris Page and CCPE have defeated the Celtic Club.
Chris Page has defeated everyone that’s been put in the ring with him here in the IIW.
Chris Page has taken a federation that was DYING and turned it around because Shaun Hart was smart enough to call the one man that COULD be a difference maker. I get it, you got overlooked, but based on what you’ve done over the last six weeks I don’t blame the powers that be overlooking you. I do want you to enjoy the time you have in the spotlight, I do want you to continue trying to put forth what you’ll call your best, and while this might be your best it’s simply not good enough not only in the IIW but any other INTERNET WRESTLING deal on the market.
By the way…
What is Internet Wrestling?
I don’t live in a fantasy world, I live in the real one, and here in the real world, you’re being laughed out of the profession.
I’ve never seen someone with this kind of opportunity squander it as you have thus far.
Then again I shouldn’t be surprised by it. Fading outside the Ghostbuster’s headquarters the dust settles from the explosion as the ray of energy continues shooting up into the air with hundreds of onlookers taking note. We find Chris, Fred, Bam, and Joe trying to get to the Ghostmobile parked streetside as police cars start pulling up to the scene. WILLIAM OSH: I want those men arrested! Chris Page makes a break for William Osh only to be pulled back by the rest of the team. JOE SPANGLER: Whoa, whoa, whoa! The scene now fades into a New York City jail cell where we find the Ghostbusters surrounded by various people in a large holding tank. CHRIS PAGE: I just don’t get it! How the hell are we going to save my wife locked inside this cell. FRED DEBONAIR: Let’s talk about what we know. JOE SPANGLER: We know that the Velvet Rabbit sits on unholy ground, and it appears Candice’s office is the hottest spot in the building. We know that Cav is lurking around because he wants something you have. Chris chimes in. CHRIS PAGE: Like a career? Let’s be fair at this point in the game I’m starting to leave Cav in the rearview. He’s punched himself out with useless information that exposes him as a filler kind of guy over a factual and intelligent one. The last thing he’s got is a wrestling career when I’m done tanning his hide.
BAM STANTZ: Not even you can help him out there. CHRIS PAGE: Good point. JOE SPANGLER: Not even you. Only a moron implies I roll with losers when in your own house we’re rocking the Tag and International Titles with the World and the United Kingdom on the way. I’m sure it made sense in that walnut brain of yours but then again you are the same person that truly believes his own hype when nobody but your friends or people in defunct organizations know your fucking name.
FRED VENKMAN: When we get out of here we have to end this once and for all, there’s no telling how powerful Cav is going to be with the forces that have been unleashed with the containment unit being shut off. I have a feeling that we are going to be in for a long, long few days. CHRIS PAGE: It all has to track back to the Velvet Rabbit. We had to have missed something along the way, and now that you guys have a fourth, collectively we stand a better shot at capturing the mysterious Cav because his time occupying my refrigerator is coming to an end. BAM STANTZ: The first place we have to go is back to the original scene. FRED VENKMAN: I completely agree. Suddenly a voice from off-screen is heard. “Ghostbusters, the Mayor wants to see you.” A police officer emerges on screen unlocking the holding cell… … to be continued. ____________________ Well if this hasn’t turned into a runaway at this point then I don’t know what to tell ya. I can only make a guy look completely and utterly stupid for so long before I grow bored, and that’s about where we are finding ourselves. It’s one thing to attack someone with facts; such as myself to you John, but it’s something completely different to misdirect away from YOUR shortcomings because there’s no way a dude that can’t kick out of a German Suplex is going to leave Red Alert with the “richest” prize in the IIW. Now more than ever the federation needs a beacon of hope after the last set of failures to hold the gold. Now more than ever the federation needs a credible talent occupying the top spot and not some whiny bitch that’s soiling his depends every time he gets his ass handed to him.
I asked for competition and I found myself at amateur hour.
This dude wouldn’t know how to cut an accurate promo if his life depended on it because you literally do the same thing over and over and over again. Go back to the Elimination Chamber, you were too busy talking about me; which you conveniently rehashed here, and not keeping your eyes on the prize, or MAYBE you would be standing here as the World Champion and not looking for your third attempt at it.
Unlike you, I don’t need multiple attempts to attain my goals.
I do it on the first shot.
I’ve sat back waiting for this opportunity and the only thing that I can ask myself is where the fuck is Russell Wayne is when I need him because he’s the only fuckwad on this roster that MIGHT be able to defeat me but he ran away knowing that I was on deck for him. You’d think that most of you would learn from the mistakes of others that have found themselves in the same position standing across the ring from me versus making their same mistakes… but then again this is the IIW, the only federation in town that COULDN’T go global until I arrived on the scene.
Yup, one more thing I’ll take credit for much like I’ll take credit for doing my part to rebuild a dead organization.
The truth when it comes to guys like Cav or the mainstays that have been here for years is that they fear change. They fear an influx in the roster because it’s their spots that are in jeopardy, it’s their spots that are lost because they’ve been too busy playing in the same goddamn sandbox that they’ve allowed themselves to become obsolete in a profession that’s constantly evolving while leaving them in the dark ages. I appreciate your history lesson about your successes in dead federations, I love your attempts at bringing Justin back into this equation, I adore how you rip my podcasts (or try) when they garner higher numbers than any success you’ve managed to taste, I am flattered that you troll a fanbase according to John, and I can’t get over how lame it is to tell me I associate with losers yet we run all the reputable federations, I love the mentions of politics when you’re the one behind closed doors screaming like an infant hungry for the teet...
But what about the FACTS, John?
Did you or did you not have a chance to take the tag titles and fail? Yes.
Did you spend far less time wasting OUR time with promotional material? Yes.
Have you ever done anything of merit over the last eight months I’ve been on the roster? No.
Have I? Yes.
Are you the dude that was the FRESHEST in the chamber that couldn’t beat Justin York? Yes.
These facts don’t lie. John does.
You can continue to skirt the issues, you can continue to pretend that if you leave the IIW tomorrow that some huge void has to be filled when the truth of the matter is when you leave, much like First Class and whatever other hole in the wall you found success in the only void that will be needed to be filled is that of the jobber to the stars. Unlike you, I know why I’m here, and while I might not have the popular vote from the true Mean Girls behind that curtain I never asked for it because unlike you… I don’t need it.
You can continue on this “shoot” trail but I assure you it doesn’t end well for you because all you’ve shown me thus far is that you’ve got no clue what the hell you’re talking about.
All I’m going to do is walk into my hometown in front of a soldout Ford Field to secure my nineteenth World Heavyweight Championship at your expense. You asked me what’s next for me? Well, my calendar is filled with Multiversal Title shots, and the relaunching of my organization, but perhaps the most relevant to the IIW is moving on and not only defending but retaining the IIW World Heavyweight Championship at the biggest Pay-Per-View of the Year why you sit in your locker room crying to whoever will listen that you got screwed.
Fun Fact- only bitches to do that.
Don’t you worry, don’t you fret because being a charitable man I’ve already had the liberty of stocking your locker room with boxes upon boxes of kleenex for you to wipe those crocodile tears away with.
You got two more shots at this, bud.
Don’t fuck them up as you’ve done with the first one.  |
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Post by The Celtic Club on Sept 14, 2022 3:09:07 GMT
City of Gods, Part II The Valkyrie’s Den
Wednesday night/Thursday morning, September 7th/8th
Bay Shore, New YorkThe scene opened to a solitary heavy metal door in the back parking lot to The Valkyrie’s Den in Bay Shore, New York. The silence of the suburban night echoed by the hum of cars passing by on Sunrise Highway and the occasional chirp of a cricket. The large door swung open as the large, towering man with a Pagan’s MC cut, now known to us all as Titan, is seen walking out from the bar with John Cavanagh following a few steps behind him. Johnnie stepped outside as the much taller Titan walked towards a parked motorcycle. Titan reached down into the saddle bag as John’s hand reached for the small of his back–if Titan had something planned, Johnnie was beating him to the punch just as he planned to do with Chris Page this Sunday at Red Alert. Titan looked up to Cavanagh as he pulled a red and white pack of Marlboro cigarettes from the iron horse's side. Titan looked at John and smiled.Titan: So, um, I guess this is where we make friends…right?John took his hand away from the small of his back. He processed Titan’s words and realized that this was Titan’s way of laughing off the fact that he knew he had been made and if he produced something other than a pack of cigarettes out of that saddle bag–he would probably be the latest Pagan President to find himself oozing blood after a few bullets pierced his hardened exterior. John nodded in approval of Titan’s stated “idea”.Titan: Good, not to be a dick or nothin’ but if you popped that piece, there’s no way you get back to Hell’s Kitchen alive.John smiled, he was fully aware of that. It was a possibility he came to grips with before he ever entered The Valkyrie’s Den. In areas like this, John Cavanagh and Chris Page were complete polar opposites. Not only would Chris Page not have had the cojones to step foot into The Valkyrie’s Den after a recently murdered close friend and business associate was last seen in that area but, let’s face it, men like the Pagan’s MC would eat a fake tough guy like Chris Page for breakfast without a moments hesitation.John Cavanagh: Yeah, kinda figured that, but, we would both be waiting on that same line for eternal damnation. Not only that, Titan, but I’ve made it out of a Chamber that I was promised to be carried out on a stretcher before…so…I gotta like my chances.Titan laughed as he took a deep drag from his cigarette. These were two men that were cut from the same cloth, Titan’s father may have been German and Polish but his mother was a potato eater like Cav. It was a long running joke on Long Island that the closest thing to an Irish Mob still remaining was, in fact, the Pagan’s Motorcycle Club as many members, at least on this Island, happened to be predominantly Irish. Titan: Yeah, Paddy told me you were one crazy fuck, hard to handle and hard to control. If you got out on two wheels there might be a cut for ya.John rolled his eyes. What? Way to stereotype every person that calls one of New York City’s five burros home.John Cavanagh: What makes you think I don’t? I used to pop wheelies with a dirt bike up and down the streets in the Kitchen. Got me a scoot Upstate on a little piece of property. Wish I got up there to put around a bit more frequently, but, ya take what ya can get.
Titan’s eyes grew to double the size. This old school Irish gangster rode a Harley? Titan and his club had been expanding, they called it the Blue Wave. The Club’s membership had nearly doubled in the last five years and they had opened charters in states they had previously never stepped foot in. Titan might have had the right idea, just the wrong person….Titan: Why don’t you fly our colors? Prospect for us. Open a New York City charter and have it out with those Maggots.
Maggots. John knew the term, if you were anyone worth your salt in the complex criminal underworld of New York, you knew what it meant. It would be like walking around Bedford Stuyvesant and not knowing that a “crab” was a derogatory term for the Crips. When Titan stated the word “Maggots” it was meant as a derogatory term for the Hell’s Angels Motorcycle Club, a club that had been the de facto head of the one percent world in New York City.
John Cavanagh: Maggots? Cute. I’m not interested in listening to anyone’s orders but my own. Titan didn’t look too thrilled with Johnnie Boy’s response. While the majority of sane people would never opt to join any criminal organization, even the majority of people who lived a criminal lifestyle wanted nothing to do with a motorcycle club. It took a special kind of crazy to want to ride around on an Iron Horse and get shot at or shoot off of said motorcycle. Titan’s face grew tense, but it slowly faded away. Titan had a moment to think, why would someone in charge of his own non-motorcycle oriented organization make the switch? Didn’t make sense. Either way, he thought, we can make money.Titan: Ok, let’s cut the horse shit and get to the point. Paddy told me you guys are always looking for parts, we’re always coming across cars and bikes, figured I’d hear from Paddy but I’ve been calling and calling, he hasn’t called back.John looked confused, his eyebrows arched before he raised his right eyebrow as if to ask “what?”John Cavanagh: Paddy’s fuckin’ dead. I just sent money over to his widow to plan the funeral a few hours ago.Titan looked as if the world had hit him right in the gut. Now he understood why John came locked and loaded, ready for war. Titan: You’re fucking joking, right?John Cavanagh: No, afraid not. They found him out in the Pine Barrens…Wading River. You’re on Long Island, how the hell didn’t you hear about it?Titan: That’s who that was? I knew the guy was named Paddy Knuckles but I figured that was just some coincidence that they were both named Paddy.
The Hell’s Kitchen Irishman chuckled for a moment. He thought to himself, “yeah it’s possible but they even said Manhattan and Irish Mob you dumb fuck. Shit, they said Kline’s Gym and The Blarney Stone, one of them had to be the number Titan dialed to reach Andy who reached out to me.”John Cavanagh: There ain’t many coincidences in this world Titan. One Paddy is dead, the Paddy you know ain’t picking up his phone. I got screwed out of a World Championship, the boss is practically sleeping with the guy who made sure I was screwed even though he won’t admit it. Life is a bitch like that, my man.
Titan: So, we can still work this out, right?Cavanagh nodded his head up and down. What the hell, Paddy was working on the deal anyway…can never hurt to have another stream of income to keep you and the troops happy. There was one question that kept nagging at John though, he had told Titan yes but that was about to be put to the test.John Cavanagh: If you didn’t know Paddy got clipped, and Paddy left here with air in his lungs which I’m assuming is true…you had a business plan worked out with the guy…where the fuck did he go after this?Titan: Cafe Ecstacy, he said there was this black bitch he liked to see there whenever he came out to the Island.
John nodded his head up and down once more as he processed the information. Black bitch? That must be the girl Monique that Paddy said could suck a golfball through a garden hose. That’s one hell of a talented girl he thought to himself, eh, best not to test the waters…he did have Shannon waiting for him at home after all.John Cavanagh: Thanks. I gotta get going, take a ride over.Before John could turn Titan mounted his motorcycle and kicked the stand up. He looked at John, no helmet and a shit eating grin that spread from ear to ear.Titan: Let me show you what me and my boys bring to the table for you. I’ll see you over there, it’s only a fifteen minute ride.Titan started the engine of his motorcycle. He revved the engine before pulling in the clutch, downshifting to first gear and opening up the throttle and quickly disappearing around the corner of the building towards the front. John looked at his phone, he typed in the name of the strip club…Cafe Ecstacy…John Cavanagh: Bay Shore to Calverton? Fifteen minutes? GPS says thirty. What the fuck is your bike on meth too? The scene cut to static as John began to walk around the side of the building.Cafe Ecstacy
Thursday Morning, September 8th
Calverton, New YorkOur scene reopened to the clean grill of a 1996 Chevrolet Impala SS pulling up, the engine and lights were killed almost immediately. The door swung open and John Cavanagh emerged from the vehicle with a nearly finished joint in his hand. He looked to his right and nodded his head. The camera panned and the giant Pagan only known to us as Titan was seen with a smile and a large wooden ax handle in his right hand. John looked down at it, he found himself in a situation where he felt a question was warranted.John Cavanagh: Now just what in the fuck is that for?Titan looked down to his handy weapon of choice and smiled.
Titan: On the back of my cut there’s a red guy. That man was a Norse fire giant named Surtr. When it was time for Ragnarok Surtr fooled all of the gods by sitting down and making himself look small. When he rose, they realized his giant stature. He took his big wooden stick and killed the gods, then he set the world aflame. This baby is my Maggot Beating Stick but tonight, it’s gonna be an Anybody Beating Stick.John nodded his head up and down, he was a bit surprised at how eloquently Titan explained the meaning behind his stick. John knew that red devil looking guy had something to do with Norse mythology, he just never gave enough of a shit to think about it.John Cavanagh: Well, shit, learn something new everyday. I don’t think we’re going to be needing it though.Titan shrugged, his organization was the type to go in guns blazing and ask questions later.
Titan: That don’t make sense but whatever, I’ll fuck ‘em up with my fists.John turned his back to Titan and began to walk towards the overhang of Cafe Ecstacy. A large, African-American bouncer stood by the door. He looked at the two men and figured why bother to check their ID then he saw what it said on Titan’s shirt “1%er” patches were a dead giveaway that this dude could cause trouble.Bouncer: Hey man, we ain’t in here looking for no problems right?Titan laughed and continued following John into the establishment. As the men entered the thump of a subwoofer could be heard, lights flashed in green, purple and blue, a naked woman danced on the stage as thirsty customers vied for her attention while throwing fistfulls of George Washingtons her way. If only the Father of the Country knew he would be stuffed between bras and G-strings by his American descendents…you’ve got to wonder if he would be proud or upset. John and Titan stood next to one another, helping to hold up the wall as they scanned the crowd. The woman on the stage was a young Latina, definitely not the Monique that Paddy had mentioned previously. Titan nudged John with his elbow and pointed, there she was, an exquisite work of art. A lovely, long-legged, light-skinned African-American woman with curves in all of the right places came walking from the back, following her was a portly man with olive skin and slicked back black hair. The man’s diamond encrusted pinky ring and Rolex signified that, at least in his mind, he was a man of wealth and importance. The portly man slapped Monique’s ass, she turned and smiled as the portly man handed her some money. He signaled to the bartender to bring him a drink, he didn’t order verbally, it was clear this guy was not only a regular but someone that everyone in this establishment knew.Titan: Who’s the fat whop?
Titan, ever so politically correct in the twenty-first century, pointed towards the portly man that accompanied Monique from the private rooms. Cavanagh stared at the man, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure who this half-assed wiseguy was but he had a feeling it was a question that begged to be answered. John shrugged his shoulders and motioned to the bar.John Cavanagh: Might as well get a Jameson while we try and figure this out.Titan: I don’t pay for drinks, I take ‘em.John laughed, what a novel concept, getting wasted for free–a sure fire way to save money while also nurturing alcoholism. John Cavanagh: First rounds on me, we’ll see if we need a second one.John and Titan waltzed to the bar, they pulled out the barstools and the slender, blonde-haired bartender made her way to the two men.
Bartender: How can I help y’all?John Cavanagh: Let me get two double shots of Jameson, one for me and one for my buddy over here. The bartender smiled and nodded her head, she walked back to where she had come from with John and Titan’s eyes following her in her fishnet stockings with a barely there pair of shorts at the top. Within a few moments she had returned with two glasses in hand, she sat them down in front of John and Titan. Before she could get the price out John tossed a Franklin on the bar. She went to grab it and John gently took her hand, putting it in his own and covering it with another.John Cavanagh: Don’t be scared, nothing is going to happen. I got this thing for black girls, I don’t know why but I do, you guys got a pretty black girl?
The bartender smiled and motioned her head towards Monique who had found a vacant seat at the bar and buried her lovely face in her cell phone.
John Cavanagh: Maybe you should tell her to come over here for me.
John removed his hands and the bartender found another one hundred dollar note in the palm of her hands. She smiled and nodded her head, she disappeared with a haste to get Monique. Titan: Must be nice to have hundreds to just chuck around like that.John Cavanagh: It ain’t something I normally would do…but for Paddy…it’s a minimal cost.
John and Titan began to sip on their whiskey for a few moments, neither man uttering a word but both watching the entertainment provided until Monique began to rub on John’s shoulders.Monique: Hey suge, I heard you looking for a little fun tonight and you got a thing for sisters. John smiled, it wasn’t that he didn’t find her attractive he could think of plenty of fun ideas that he could partake in with her, but, when you’ve got Shannon Riley waiting for you at home, you’re not about to risk that–regardless of how drop dead gorgeous Monique looked in, well, nearly nothing. John knew in the end he had to get information about Paddy and something in his gut told him that fat little wiseguy at the bar had something to do with Paddy, his eyes had been following Monique ever since. So, John did what any logical man would do in this situation–there was a fat ass next to him, he had money in his pocket. THWACK! John’s hand smacked across Monique’s ass, Monique couldn’t help but giggle.
Monique: Yeah daddy, that’s what I’m talking about.
John Cavanagh: Let me buy you a drink.Monique: I don’t drink at work.John’s first plan backfired, the idea was to get her to sit down with John and Titan to see how the portly man reacted, so, John had the next best idea.
John Cavanagh: Alright, but you sit on laps right?John pulled his chair out as Monique kindly obliged. She sat down and started rocking back and forth. Titan couldn’t help but notice the rather large bosoms moving up and down as she moved her body.Titan: What the fuck, this guy gets a free show?
Monique smiled and laughed.Monique: Momma gotta work for her tips, don’t she. I’m about to make your friend over here take me in the back and pay my rent.
Monique laughed, John did as well but he was laughing because he knew she didn’t have a chance at that happening. John moved his hand north, cupping one of her breasts, she smiled at Titan and grabbed his hand and did the same.Monique: Or you can both pay my rent, daddies.
Then it happened. The portly man, who had been watching Monique the entire time, violently slammed his drink on the bar after finishing it off and began to approach the two men groping his favorite female. The portly man stood next to the two men and stared at Monique.Portly Man: You guys need to get your hands off of her tits.John looked at Titan, they both looked somewhat puzzled but John’s look told Titan that this was all part of the plan. John Cavanagh: Last I checked this is a strip club, she’s a stripper and I’m a customer, so unless she wants us to stop milking her then you can go fuck off.
The Portly Man didn’t take kindly to John’s response. The Portly Man motioned for one of the members of his security team to come over.
Portly Man: You fucked up now kids, you know who the fuck I am?John and Titan saw two security guards beginning to walk in their general direction. John picked up his Jameson and chugged it down, Titan followed suit. It was clear that business was just seconds away from picking up.John Cavanagh: No, I don’t know who the fuck you are, but do you know who the fuck I am?
Portly Man: I don’t give a shit who you are! This is my bitch, this is my bar and you two pieces of shit are about to die.
His bar? John thought to himself for a moment, what half-assed wiseguy owns a strip club all the way in Calverton? He was sure it was great business during the summer, it was the closest gentleman's club to the touristy and affluent East End. Then he remembered….
John Cavanagh: Oh, this is your place, I think I did hear about you. They call you Pegs or something like that, right?
The Portly Man looked a little confused, this guy had gone from not knowing who the hell he was to knowing part of his street name within the blink of an eye.
Pags: No, they call me Pags wiseguy. How the fuck you even get that close anyway?
The Irishman smiled as Titan looked at the portly man called “Pags” with murderous intent, his eyes never not having Pags within his sights, save from a momentary blind. The security guards had to Titan’s side, another stood behind John.
John Cavanagh: I know because my name is John Cavanagh and I happen to be a friend of Vinny Abruzzo. Maybe you heard of him?
The look on Pags’ face changed. Pags may have been a made guy, he might have a few associates that worked for him and he might mean something to anyone connected on the East End of Long Island but to someone in New York City, the heart of it all, to them Pags was a nobody. Vinny Abruzzo on the other hand, a Capo in the Genovese Family, the Capo of the largest crew in America’s strongest Mafia family, that man was a man to not only be known but feared.
Pags: Vinny. Fugheddabouti! Vinny is good people, I was with him the other day.
Cavanagh chuckled, he was sure the only way Pags was “with” Vinny was if they happened to be at the same social function or both happened to be dropping an envelope to their Don at the same time. The likelihood of Vinny conversing with Pags was slim to none other than a polite “how ya doin’?” Pags looked down at Monique, his secret love, she was doing what she was supposed to be doing–enticing clientele to purchase a lap dance.
John Cavanagh: Yeah, about that, I called him on the way over here. This ain’t your bar Cristoforo, it’s your father’s. And this ain’t ya bitch, she’s a fucking stripper. I throw enough money at her, I'm sure she’ll do something strange for some change all night long.
Cavanagh had played dumb, his conversation with his close friend Vinny filled him in on all he needed to know. Cristoforo “Pags” Pagliarulo was the son of a semi-retired wiseguy who was living out his golden years in Tampa. Cristoforo was one of those second generation wiseguys who got their button because of who their father was and nothing more. This kid claimed to be of some importance, yet, in reality, he hadn’t proven a thing to anyone. Pags olive skin had begun to turn a bright red as he grabbed Monique by the arm and ripped her off of John’s lap.
Cristoforo Pagliarulo: I said now!A spoiled little brat, he wanted what he wanted when he wanted it and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Johnnie had tested the waters and learned what he needed to know about Pags. He nudged Titan and the two men got to their feet.
John Cavanagh: Well, I came here for some brown sugar tonight…I guess it ain’t happenin’.Titan: I was enjoying them titties…shame I gotta go.
Cav and Titan turned to exit the bar. Cristoforo, face flush with blood due to the lack of respect these two had shown decided he only had one move left.
Cristoforo: You fucks ain’t leaving!A large security guard who had been stationed by the door appeared. He walked towards the two men as two others walked across the bar as the few patrons that had frequented the bar this Wednesday night looked on in awe. Some may have known that this bar was owned by a Mafioso but none of them would have thought the forthcoming events would ever transpire.
Cristoforo pulled Monique to the back of the bar, walking back towards the private rooms, as the large Caucasian security guard went to grab Titan but was brushed off and thrown across the bartop knocking over a few drinks and bottles of liquor along the way. The bartender ran for the back room at the sight of chaos. The two men who approached from the opposite direction, wearing street clothes rather than a security shirt, helped pick up the security guard. The three men bum rushed Cavanagh and Titan. Cavanagh leaped and speared the security guard to the ground and begin to whale away with right hands while he sat on top. Titan grabbed one of the smaller men and tossed him through the plexiglass partition to the DJ area. The second small man laid in a punch to Titan’s gut but it didn’t faze the big biker in the slightest. Titan grabbed him by the head and tossed him through the glass door to the outside of the club. Titan: Well, shit, looks like I found us a way out, huh?Cavanagh was still beating the security guard, the man’s face had grown bloody as had Cavanagh’s knuckles. Titan walked over to Cavanagh and began to laugh.
Titan: You really should be a 1%er, what the fuck kill that motherfucker!
Cavanagh’s concentration was broken when he saw a light swing open and a short man with a black fedora, beige sweater and black slacks exited from the back area where the bartender had run. The man had a Lucky Strike cigarette in his mouth and a pistol with a silencer extended. Cavanagh instantly reached for his back and produced his revolver. The two men stared one another down, guns drawn, Titan looked on.
Titan: Well, what the fuck you cowboys waiting for? It's High Noon at the O.K. Coral boys!
John Cavanagh: Go for it greaseball.
The man in the fedora responded in a raspy voice, this was the man that the newly identified Cristoforo “Pags” Pagliarulo had identified as “Lucky”.
Lucky: Now is that nice? I can end your life and you call me a name like that?
John Cavanagh: So pull it.Lucky: You got balls, huh? I heard about you. Hell’s Kitchen Irish, right?John Cavanagh: Look at me, world fucking famous. And who are you?
Lucky: My mother named me Benedetto, but everybody calls me Lucky. I used to work for Crisy’s dad. A little light work, little heavy work.
John Cavanagh: Yeah, I work for me. A little light work, a little heavy work.
Titan: Are either of you guys gonna shoot? Or is this some kind of cock tease? Get that bitch back on stage!
John Cavanagh: We’re gonna leave now, Titan, Lucky. I think that might be the best course of action for everyone involved.
Lucky: I don’t like it, but you’re right.
Cavanagh maintained his aim as he and Titan began to walk backwards towards the door. Lucky kept his pistol following John every inch of the voyage. John and Titan got to the door, pushed it open and left Cafe Ecstacy as the scene briefly cut to static.
The Blarney Stone
Hell’s Kitchen, New York
Thursday night, September 8thThe scene reopened to John Cavanagh seated in The Blarney Stone Irish Pub in Hell’s Kitchen, New York. Cavanagh was accompanied by two of his favorite recreational enhancers–a blunt and a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey.Cavanagh knocked back a shot of whiskey and looked up to the camera. We had an emotionally charged, ready to fight, high and drunk Irishman from Hell’s Kitchen…what could possibly go wrong?
John Cavanagh: Three hundred sixty-five. That’s quite the number ain’t it. Three hundred sixty-five days between one on one opportunities to become the IIW World Heavyweight Champion. That’s twelve months, that’s an entire calendar year. Ain’t that about a bitch. Sure, you’ve got an Elimination Chamber that was rigged so piss poorly that the desired outcome was botched in between there but that one we’ll just revisit in a little while…again, as if I’m not already sick and tired of speaking about it. That’s three hundred sixty-five times I had to wake up and look myself in the face after that failure. Three hundred sixty-five different reminders that Jake E. Dangerously, on that night, at that Red Alert, could claim that he was better than John Cavanagh regardless of the circumstances surrounding the end of the match. Three hundred sixty-five different reasons for me the get right back to the same spot–a match for the IIW World Championship. A match that many wrestlers are lucky to receive one of throughout the course of their career. A match that means more than any other match I’ve been in since I signed the contract that Osh Vaughan presented me with. A match that has the ability to be a shit show or an instant classic. A match that could make a legacy while simultaneously destroying another. The stake’s are never higher than the IIW World Championship but when it’s all said and done, when the history books are written ladies and gentlemen, the main event of Red Alert 2022, may have had higher stakes than any other match in the history of this goddamn promotion! Not only is the most prestigious prize in the game on the line but the very soul of the IIW will be up for grabs in this battle of good versus evil. The evil of “Chronic” Chris Page Enterprises, and the, good of, well, I wouldn’t exactly call myself “good” but we will say the quasi better from a moral perspective of “The One Man Dynasty” John Cavanagh. Notice, I haven’t made this about his crew and my crew. His crew deserves mentioning though, not due to their skill, why would it ever be something like that it would make far too much sense, but due to their mere existence. Nobody asked them to be here, yet they walk around as if they’re God’s gift to the IIW. How fitting that IIW’s resident devil would be the one to reign down hellfire on their little parade. Andy and Trig, love ‘em to death, but Johnnie Boy ain’t gonna need them for this. I can do better than Chris Page’s mediocre, at best, skill level all by myself…thank you very much.The Irishman looked over to the green bottle, the only spirit he ever reached for. He tilted the already opened bottle over and poured the amber liquid into his shot glass.
John Cavanagh: He thought he was smart. He thought he was clever. He thought he had an entire army of soldiers ready to ride for his cause. Chris Page sat there over all of these months plotting and planning and he is only a singular cunt hair closer to his goal than he originally was when he started. Sure, Chris, I’m sure you would like to point out how you’ve run circles around the competition that you’ve found here in the IIW…albeit when the three heaviest hitters this promotion ever had to offer were basically nowhere to be found. A few wise cracks about how all of us old heads, the old guard, the veterans, the people that built this goddamn place that your vile heart seeks to destroy don’t want competition. Man, you’re a fucking moron if you ever thought something like that was the truth. What in the blue hell is the point of this sport we call professional wrestling if there isn’t a little bit of competition? You think I’m running from competition? Really cute, shithead, kind of like all of the little jokes you like to play throughout your promos as if you’re some Martin Scorcese-esque director filming your next classic.
John reached for his shot and took the gulp. The fire from the water of life warmed his torso. He reached for his blunt but before the quasi-intoxicated Irish don could light it up, his brain waves started functioning.John Cavanagh: Listen, you couldn’t even make yourself a cult classic let alone a cinematic masterpiece. You think that you’re the type of competition the IIW needs? You’re sadly mistaken. I watched from the sidelines while I was out healing wounds and ya know what I saw? Some piece of shit who wanted to be the numero uno tough guy but could barely fight his way out of a paper bag. I witnessed Chris Page was able to assemble his team of merry assmunchers to do his dirty work for him because not only does he lack the testicular fortitude to get the job done but he also lacks the prerequisite skill set. Chris Page can sit on his throne of bullshit and expect the entire world to believe his little voiceovers, thoughts, whatever it is he likes to disguise himself as all he wants–the truth is the truth. Chris Page is not on the same level as Johnnie Cav, Chris Page is not the man to lead the IIW moving forward, hell, Chris Page will be lucky if his bitch ass ever has the opportunity to be THE MAN here in the IIW. I bet you didn’t think this would happen, Chris, but after I beat you…I ain’t going anywhere. I don’t give a shit if I have to charter private jets to fly me from one corner of God’s green Earth to another. I don’t give a damn if I have to leave Trig and Andy to take care of things back home in the neighborhood. Hell, I don’t give a rat’s ass if I’m forced to have more interactions with Curtis either, why? Because unlike Chris Page, Johnnie Cav has been and will continue to be part of the IIW for the long haul.The One Man Dynasty produced a lighter from his pocket, he held his blunt in front of him and got the lighting process started before moving it to his mouth and taking his first hit, little did he know…it would also be his last one for a while.
John Cavanagh: You speak about five or six months of dominance, I commend you for it. Regardless of how vile I find you to be, regardless of how much I’d love to see your body flung from a high rise building with a couple dozen stab wounds leaking blood, I can’t take away the strides you’ve made. I wouldn’t go as far to call what you’ve accomplished dominant but you were able to win the Tag Team Championships with doppelganger Debonair. Oh, yeah, cute little jokes…as usual…everything is a game to the keyboard warrior. The guy who thinks he made this place the destination, hey shithead, I don’t know if you listened to a word I had to say but if you just regurgitate what I say…and claim it as your own…it kind of kills all sense of credibility and originality you’re going for. See, you think you made this place when the fact of the matter remains that you wouldn’t have bothered coming here if it weren’t a destination. You’re not into building a brand unless it’s your own. You’re not the type of team player that would be needed to bring the IIW to that next level. Am I? Shit, I wouldn’t assume so, then again, Osh Vaughan doesn’t have us traded publicly on the stock market so I guess he doesn’t have to answer to investors when the world is wondering why a felon is the number one guy in a multi-million dollar corporation. The funny part about that entire situation, Chris? I never wanted to be the number one guy for the company–I always just wanted the title for the paychecks–but nowadays I’m feeling a bit different. I’ve been the bastard that sold tickets because the fans wanted to see me get my ass kicked. Now I’m the son of a bitch the fans want to pay to see. I’ve been the man who has carried a promotion on his back because he dominated the show by breaking every rule in the book and using every dirty play in the playbook. Those times were all sweet, they were actually great and I savored every single moment, but now, it’s time for a little something different from The One Man Dynasty. It’s time for good old Johnnie Cav to be the guy to pick up the ball, toss the entire goddamn promotion on his back and run for the end zone. It’s time for John Cavanagh to be the face of the promotion not because he stole a championship or used some underhanded tactic to win the championship like Chris Page’s cowardly ass will still try to do at Red Alert, but because he genuinely earned it. If the crowd wants to chant “you deserve it”, so be it, if they decide to greet me with a chorus of boos all over again then fuck them too. I have busted my ass for my entire career, I’ve sacrificed my body, my freedom and my livelihood for this business in one way or another and I’ll be damned if some jerkoff that thinks he’s bigger than it makes a mockery of the one championship in this business that still has a glimmer of prestige remaining because God knows you and your little political bullshit already destroyed all the good I did for the International Championship. So, that’s what it comes down to I guess…the two evils that the IIW has competing for the most divine prize this sport has. It’s almost biblical. On one hand, you’ve got the man who has taken the banner and decided that he, of all the miserable bastards to ever lace up a pair of boots, was going to lead the charge and defend the integrity of the IIW.The leader of The Celtic Club looked down at his blunt, the cherry had disappeared. “Really?” He thought to himself. He wanted the blunt, so like any logical person he reached for the bottle of whiskey. Holding Ireland’s national beverage in his hand he began to speak.
John Cavanagh: Meanwhile, the other option is you, the cancer running rampant attempting to kill the body. Now, remember boys and girls, Chris Page has spent years building his brand. He’s spent all of this time building a false reality and spreading his false narrative about how important he is when it comes to the sport of professional wrestling. He pours all of his time and energy into trying to convince people of it from the comfort of his computer screen, his cell phone and from behind a microphone. You helped Fred Debonair’s paint chip Cheerio eating ass see the light? Good for you. I’m sure one day he will be whispering sweet little nothings into your ear while tickling your gooch before stabbing you in the back. Right in the goddamn spine!! See, that’s the thing, that big fat head of yours is too far up your goddamn ass for you to see that you’ve got a snake in the grass lurking amongst you and you actually trusted him as a teammate. You want to brag about beating Crush? Please, my guy, like who the fuck hasn’t defeated Crush? I’m pretty sure the only guy who hasn’t defeated Crush yet is his mentally challenged brother, PG-13. You bitch slapped Justin York? Pretty easy to bitch slap a bitch–a bitch that you basically coddled may I add. I’m sure poor Justin had a fair fight, that little pussy was probably too busy sucking Shaun Hart’s dick for him to even notice that you were raw dogging him from behind the entire time he was part of The Welcoming Committee. Scotty Adams hung them up? Nobody noticed, and those who did notice, didn’t give a shit. So, good job with that feather in your cap. Johnnie Cav took a moment to refill his shot glass. There were things that Chris Page liked, building his brand, and then there were the more important things like enjoying yourself, living your life and imbibing a little bit of whiskey.John Cavanagh: You stood here and called out Jonny C when he was walking around as World Champion? Sounds like the last person affiliated with “Chronic” Chris Page Enterprises that I tossed around…wasn’t your little butt buddy Justin York bitching and moaning for a match with Jake E. Dangerously? Let me explain something to you that I attempted to explain to your former sidekick. Just like it would have done nothing for Jake to answer his challenges, it would have been moronic for Jonny to give you what you wanted, even if he wanted to make an example out of you. Why the hell let some new pup have a World Championship opportunity? Why give the new guy the rub of a lifetime? Why because Chris Page came out and said he would mop the floor with Jonny C? That’s neither here nor there, see, an intelligent champion would let you bark and bark all night long, get the pigs to come for the noise disturbance because I’m leaving you outside barking until you run out of stamina. You don’t waltz into a promotion and start calling out the top dog and actually expect the match to happen. What the hell kind of ass backwards promotion does CCPE actually work with anyway? I get it, you must go around to little shit feds that run shows in small venues and they really need the rub of Chris Page and all of the other Cherry Grove, Fire Islanders that he represents. You may believe that you’ve been able to peg people like myself, like Jonny, and the other members of the “old guard” from a mile away but that’s just your arrogance. That’s just you being a bit less intelligent than you like to fancy yourself. It really is just Chris Page being his own worst enemy and getting in his own damn way.
He attempted to hold it off for as long as he could, he really did. The problem was it was in his veins, in his very DNA. His predecessors descended from the home of this shit and it was just sitting in front of him. Batten down the hatches, here goes another shot for Johnnie Cav before he returned to the camera.
John Cavanagh: The man may claim he speaks the truth but we all know that almost everything is just a whole bunch of hot air. Almost every syllable that comes from your mouth is a waste of oxygen, a waste of our time and, if I’m being completely blunt which the entire locker room knows is the only way that Johnnie Cav ever is, a waste of our brain cells trying to navigate through all of the bullshit. I mean, really, your world changed drastically because Russell Wayne snapped a bone? Oh boo fucking hoo! Poor wittle bay-bee did ya need a band-aid and mommy to tell you that you’re her special big boy to make you feel better? You didn’t give a shit about Russell Wayne then and you don’t give a shit about Russell Wayne now. It’s just more of your nonsense to spin this narrative you’re building. This fantasyland where Chris Page came into the IIW and the entire roster ran from him. This wet dream of Jonny C avoiding him, Russell’s injury being a curveball that uprooted civilization itself and then the Elimination Chamber? You’re really going to get started on that shit show?! You’re actually going to sit there and pretend like your brown nosing, scrotum munching, political game playing douchery isn’t the reason why there was a double pin? Trust me, young boy, if you could bitch slap Justin York like you do in your dreams then I was banishing him to some alternate dimension in the Chamber. You know damn well you, Justin, Shaun Hart, Fred Debonair and whatever other crooked shitheads are trying to pull strings are the only reason you’re not facing off against the IIW World Champion at Red Alert rather than facing me to crown a new champion. See, the cancer is so obvious to anyone without rose colored glasses. Your fluffer Justin York gets the International Championship, gets his ass beat by Johnnie Cav and leaves, then your new teacher’s pet wins it. Yeah, that title means jack shit now. The IIW World Championship, the title you claim you can bring to some unknown level that none of us could ever imagine, that championship is only holding onto its dignity because of the work of Jake E. Dangerously and Jonny C put in to establish it as the premiere championship in our sport today. You think you can do a better job than them? I’m sorry if it hurts your fragile sense of self worth but that just ain’t possible, homie. You ain’t built like that, quite frankly, you’re not that guy. You’re not the Hulk Hogan of the 1980s or “Stone Cold” Steve Austin of the 1990s who is going to put some respect on that championship and carry the torch. I can see right through you, you’re a coward, you’re spineless, you’re the type to run when the going gets tough just like Justin York and just like Fred Debonair. Spineless people don’t have the ability to carry anything to any heights. Spineless people like you only have the ability to fein importance, as long as they have a few people standing behind them to prop them up. Oh, luckily for your spineless ass you have the new International Champion, your doppelganger and the guy who runs around like it’s his name at the bottom of the checks and not Osh Vaughan.Johnnie finally realized that if he wanted to get THC into his system, he had to light that blunt at some point. Lighter in hand John got himself started back up. He inhaled and blew the smoke back out before taking another hit.John Cavanagh: Chris Page wants to act cute and claim he was deserving of the World Championship on day one, I mean excuse me, day three because he’s a man of modest and humble origins. If that were the case, why win it in the first place? Are you saying you’re not worthy of winning a prestigious championship or are you saying the IIW World Championship isn’t worthy of you? See, that’s where the line becomes a bit fuzzy. Chris Page thinks he’s such hot shit that he thinks he’s bigger than this entire promotion when there is a bigger, badder mother you know what waiting to put him down in less than a week at Red Alert. While you inflate your own worth or deflate the value of the championship you fight for, let us take a look at the clusterfuck that we have all been forced to witness over the last few months. A travesty that your paint thinner huffing ass was even able to point out–the poor championship has been thrown into a shit storm like none other hasn’t it? Jonny drops the gold to Russell, Russell breaks some bones, Elimination Chamber…thanks for that by the way asshole…and you claim to be the answer the entire time? You really think all of these events are coincidences? It’s like Chris Page came and a black cloud formed over the IIW. What the hell happened while Johnnie Boy took his much needed rest after help carry the weight of this fucking place on my back?! Did you and Shaun Hart whack out Montague? Did he cast a curse upon the house that you two peas in a pod share? Did your very recruitment put the writing on the wall that this whole place was going to burn down? Are you the third Antichrist that Nostrodomus predicted in his quatrains? Alright, my bad, I got a little ahead of myself…but it’s all in good fun…just like the bullshit you make up, at least mine is a little more entertaining. John looked to his blunt, it was no longer lit. He had a penchant for doing this, especially once he was drunk and going on a rant. John lived on his soap box, and although he knew Chris Page wasn’t capable of it, he was willing to die on it. John put the blunt in the ashtray for safe keeping.John Cavanagh: See, that’s what happens when you actually had to prove yourself your entire life, you develop a bit of a swagger, a bit of charisma, and what’s more is it kind of just flows off of you naturally. It’s not fake, you can’t teach it, you have to refine your edges from years upon years, decades even of the constant grind of pitting yourself against someone else and constantly finding a way to come out on top. Sure, we all have our roadblocks but it’s how we respond to those roadblocks that define the man, or woman, that we become. See, a guy like me, a street kid from Hell’s Kitchen, I’ve been through the ringer man. I lived a life you could write a book on that molded me long before I stepped between the ropes. You? Does anybody even know? I mean, you’re the only schmuck on the IIW Website who doesn’t even have a biography…I guess you expect us all to take our time and pay attention to your redundant, self fulfilling, give ZzzzQuil a run for their money Podcasts to learn the boring facts of Chris Page’s life. For someone who gives a damn about his brand you would think that you would have all of that shit front and center for the world to see at every chance you got. We all know that’s the type of obnoxious son of a bitch you are anyway, so why not embrace it? Oh yeah, you need clicks and streams and all of that bullshit to continue to feed your own ego. Why? I think the answer is blatantly clear, it’s right in front of us for the entire locker room and management to see. Chris Page isn’t the messiah some thought he was, if the IIW was the military, he’s not a general, he’s one of the poor shitheads working at the regional recruitment center trying to find the next guy he can convince to join the cause. Actually, I’m giving you too much credit again, if this was the military buddy I doubt you make the cut. The military has much higher standards than the almighty Shaun Hart seems to have. Cav ran his hand through his blonde hair while he continued to gather his thoughts. He had a lot to say about this entire situation, he knew the past few months of this company and Chris Page’s sudden “rise to dominance” were nothing more than a farce. A flash in the pan that he was about to end.
John Cavanagh: You can sit there and say you extended an olive branch to me but what good is that? You want to say I shat on it, yeah you’re fucking right I did. In the world I came up in, the only reason to ever offer an olive branch was if it made sense from a business standpoint. What good does accepting your bullshit olive branch and your tongue in cheek compliments do for me? Did you expect me to kick back a few shots of Jameson with you afterwards? Do you think we were going to roll up a fat blunt and bullshit about all of the different wrestlers that we’ve both left in the dust throughout our careers? I hate to break it to you Chris, you might look in the mirror and want to make sweet love to yourself but I ain’t the one man, I don’t play for that team and at the same time I’m not a narcissistic assclown like yourself. Not that there’s anything wrong with that…the play for the other team part…ya know, gotta make sure we don’t get canceled nowadays with people like Chris Page making their life’s goal to control their small niche of the airwaves. There is, however, something inherently wrong with being a narcissist…and Chris Page’s arrogance and ego should be Exhibits A and B as far as why someone should never get too full of themselves.
John looked at the bottle of Jameson as if it were calling out to him. He poured himself another shot. Then the entire mental process heated back up.
John Cavanagh: Let me ask you something though, maybe you can help me out in my other line of work actually. Who the fuck is your weedman? Who is the guy who sells you these fire flowers that makes it so that you have such funky ass dream scenarios man? I mean, I know, I get it, we all like to party a bit…I’ve been known to puff quite a bit of that magically dragon myself from time to time but Jeeeeeezzzzuuuuuuus Christ my man, your shit must be from another dimension to get you as high as you need to be to concoct your little Ghostbusters fantasies. I mean, I guess you would probably think I should feel honored. Yeah, that’s it, maybe this is your pathetic attempt at gassing me up before our match so that I think you’re sweet. You’ve got Johnnie Cav all on your mind like a virgin looking at their date on prom night. Am I the reason you wake up to morning wood too? Dreaming that I’ve done something to that cum bucket of a wife of yours, that there is some kind of ghost or poltergeist bullshit that I’ve summoned to mess with your brain. I don’t know man, maybe it’s not the Buddha after all. Maybe the truth of the matter is that Chris Page needs to seek a psychiatric evaluation in order to examine that cabeza of his. Maybe it’s actually some kind of pharmaceuticals that you need to dream up such a crack pipe scenario with absolutely zero substance. I know, you’ve built yourself up as if you’re some sort of creative genius but I’ve got to say man…I’m not really seeing the hype. The best one liner you could even come up with was just reusing material that I tossed out about you over a month ago. I guess that really hurt didn’t it? Me calling a spade a spade. It’s not my fault that your mother let Fred Debonair’s father fill her up and then convince your miserable piece of shit father that you were his offspring. That poor guy must be really hurting right now after taking care of you this entire time while you’ve been using his Internet to record your Podcasts in his basement. I’m sure he’s proud of the fact that you’ve made a quasi-name for yourself in your profession based off of all of his years of hard work at being the neighborhood’s favorite cuckold. John began to laugh before grabbing his latest beverage and knocking it down. He shook his head and came back tp focus.
John Cavanagh: Shit, maybe I should be a little easier on you and that pathetic excuse of a gene pool you come from. I’m not one hundred percent sure if it makes sense for me to continually talk shit about you guys. I can tell that you’re the type to over evaluate their own skill level and think a bit more highly of yourself than you probably should. It would be an absolute crime against humanity if someone were to prove your beliefs to be incorrect. If some big, bad bastard like Johnnie Cav came around and shattered all of your dreams like a car flying through a storefront window…how would Chris Page continue to move forward? How in the ever loving hell would this overinflated, confident for no reason, never has been, wannabe rockstar looking coward continue to live? How would he be able to explain his way out of being defeated by a far superior athlete? Chris, you’ve been doing your absolute best these last five or six months to prove to everyone that you should be the World Champion, that you should be the face of the franchise but the reality is…this ain’t no political campaign. I don’t give a shit if you’re a Republican or a Democrat but it's pretty clear to me that the battle lines have been drawn just like the politics of this country. It’s pretty obvious that there are two camps here in IIW–the camp that wants to maintain integrity and the camp that wants to hand Chris Page the world on a silver platter. You remind me of those affluent kids from the Upper East Side. Every summer us West Side boys would have our run ins with those little rich twats. Why do I compare you to them? Well, it's quite simple really. Just like the average American child born with a little bit of dinero in the bank account, you feel entitled. You feel that the “work” you put in on social media should trump the work that the REAL talent put in between these ropes. I’m not fully discrediting your ability to perform inside of the ring, that would be asinine, what the hell kind of fun is it to defeat someone when you are already one hundred percent aware who the better man is? I don’t want that. I’m not Chris Page, I don’t shout from the mountain tops that the “old guard” of IIW is afraid of competition…bitch we are the goddamn competition!!!! You came here for a reason and it ain’t because you liked the initials IIW. I can say it until I’m blue in the face but your entire logic that you spew from your mouth makes no sense. Your theories of your greatness are riddled with more holes than Bonnie and Clyde after the FBI had their way with them. As a matter of fact, you’re entire promo you cut about me, it’s starting to look a hell of a lot like Swiss Cheese right about now. So many holes that we can all see right through all of your bullshit and witness the true Chris Page. The clickbait happy piece of shit who is only in the IIW to continue ue peddling the lies that all of the Becky Lynch huggers continue to believe. The man who worships himself the way a Roman Emperor viewed themselves as divine–the problem is, just like Rome, Chris Page too must fall. Ya know how Rome fell, Chris? Barbarians. Huns, Vandals, Franks, et cetera, they all came down on the mighty, infallible Roman Empire making it crumble to the ground, rattling Europe’s greatest empire at its very foundation. The Romans, they were just like you, they thought their shit don't stink, they felt as if they were gods on Earth and they were superior to all other cultures they encountered. Ever heard of Romanization? That was the practice of trying to turn every corner of the Empire into a Roman enclave that spoke Latin, wore Roman clothing and worshiped the pantheon of Roman gods, that is until Christianity took over. They sound very similar to Chris Page, a man who thinks he’s better because well, he said so, a man who thinks his brand or Empire is superior to the one he interacts with on a daily basis, hell, you’re even trying to turn the IIW into the next offshoot of “Chronic” Chris Page Enterprises. You know what they say though, if you spread yourself too thin you’re guaranteed to fail. Ask the Romans what happened when they attempted to move north of Hadrian’s Wall in Scotland, what happened when they made their failed attempt at invading the Emerald Isle where my forefathers lived…just remember, that is your fate. The end of Chris Page, the end of CCPE, the termination of you and everyone else who feels you’re worthy of their attention. That and only that will end my carnage, stop the mayhem that I will unleash upon you next Sunday night at Red Alert. Oh, what a beautiful site it will be, I can’t wait. I hope you feel the same way buddy, because the competition is here and the competition is coming to kick your ass.Cavanagh looked down and grabbed his blunt once more, he lit it up and took a deep drag.
John Cavanagh: Now, in all honesty, I’m smashed. I’m gonna get laid. You keep building your brand or whatever the fuck it is you’re useful for. See you at Red Alert, I can’t fucking wait.Cavanagh took another hit from his blunt and walked off as the scene momentarily cut to static before reopening to darkness. The darkness was greeted with silence for about five seconds before the most annoying sound ever, the ring of an iPhone, is heard. A large hand begins to slam away on the nightstand where the cell phones is located. The hand acquires the item and fumbles to answer. The subtle light from the phone exposing the face of Johnnie Cav.John Cavanagh: Yeah?A muffled voice is heard echoing from the other side of the line. John rubs his temple as he looks over to the non-visible Shannon Riley.
John Cavanagh: What you mean, Vinny?The muffled voice continued.
John Cavanagh: I’ll see you later then.John hung the phone up as the scene cut to static. |
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Post by Chris Page on Sept 16, 2022 22:40:02 GMT
I can’t speak for you, but I am having a blast at making ole Cav look like the complete and utter fool. Every village has an idiot, and we’ve found ours. Who else tries to call a man that’s owned the IIW a loser including smacking around his own team? Who else tries to make this about outside adventures over expressing how much it means to be the guy representing this company? Who else had a ready-made redemption story all but served up to him only to shit the bed? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; you don’t have the acknowledge the facts for them to be facts. There isn’t any amount of spin class lessons or having friends in your ear that can take away from those.
What you don’t understand just yet; but will in short order, is that I’ve always had you right where I want you.
… In the palm of my hands.
After seeing your first outing the last thing I am is impressed. Talking like a robot on end isn’t impressive when the context you’re delivering defies logic. You can’t detract from how unstoppable I have become, and to further illustrate that when you are looking up at those lights suffering failure for the third time maybe then you’ll realize that while at one time you MIGHT have been a top dog but around these parts you’re nothing more than a little pup that’s about to learn his place within the pecking order when it comes to this yard. As cliche as it’s going to sound there’s only one dog that runs this yard… and it ain’t John Cavanagh. What I will say is I can’t think of a better bubble to burst than that of the village idiot from Hell’s Kitchen, I mean all it’s going to take is a German Suplex.
I don’t have to outfight you, although I could.
All I have to do is outwrestle you.
I can do that with my eyes closed.
Your biggest problem thus far is you’ve not grasped just who you’re dealing with. It’s never about how you start, it’s about how you finish. You’ve punched the fuck out of rip and will now spend your time trying to deflect the harsh truths that have been cast upon you; the biggest of which is when it comes to overrated your picture is beside the word. The harsh reality is you don’t belong here, ya never did. You’ve tasted success in two companies while I’ve tasted success everywhere I’ve been, IIW included. Unlike you, I’m on the cusp of tasting the biggest piece of success at your expense. You and I are going to step in front of over 80,000 people that have paid their hard-earned money to see their boy snuff out whoever was walking in as the World Champion. The good news is you failed at that so this determines who is going to have the power, who is going to be in control, and who holds the future of the IIW in their hands.
Given your history on top, the LAST thing that needs to happen is for hell to freeze over and you defeat me because I’d imagine the hourglass on the closure of the IIW would flip over allowing the sands to start running out. Thankfully for the IIW, they’ve put their money where their mouths are by throwing down that money to get me under a short-term contract so that we don’t have to endure another Cavanagh brick. For the record I’m not doubting that you were once something within the business, I’m saying that currently, you pack as much of a punch as a corpse. Time isn’t on your side, bud. While you’re running on fumes I’m just getting started. You can’t keep up with someone of my stature, and now as we’re closing in on the bottom of the ninth I don’t need to call for the bullpen, I don’t need a closer. I’ll just pitch this no-hitter and move on to bigger and better things.
You should be thankful that I’m on the other side of the ring.
Not just anyone can carry your deadweight to a show-stealing performance.
You’re welcome.
Now do yourself a favor and the next time you want to put up a front do so within your box because thinking outside of it doesn’t appear to be your jam. What I will tell you is that unlike the Chamber you’re not going to have Shaun to blame, you’re going to have yourself to blame.
Now pick your jaw up off the floor because we ain’t there yet.
_____________________
… Continued from:
“Excuse me, sir, the Ghostbusters are here.”
We fade into the Mayor of New York’s Office where the Chief of Police, the Fire Chief, and the Mayor himself are present…
MAYOR SHAUN: Ghostbusters? Bring them in. Where’s that Osh guy.
The mayor’s assistant leads in Chris, Fred, Bam, and Joe with several police officers surrounding them.
WILLIAM OSH: I am William Osh and I’m prepared to make a detailed report. These men constantly think they’re better than anyone else or that rules don’t apply. They’re con artists and frauds. They put out some type of nerve gas to bring on hallucinations to the degree that people think they’re seeing ghosts.
Chris Page can be seen yawning as William Osh continues.
WILLIAM OSH: They’re not only lying the to general public they’re responsible for the explosion earlier today.
Chris Page chimes in.
CHRIS PAGE: Everything was fine until shit for brains shut off the containment grid.
Mayor Shaun cuts his eyes toward Fred.
MAYOR SHAUN: Is this true?
Fred starts to nod.
FRED VENKMAN: Yes, it’s true, this man has shit for brains.
There’s a grunt from William Osh while he lunges over at Fred only to have Police step in separating them while a commotion ensures while Bam Stantz can be seen pulling a brick out from his jumpsuit. William Osh is pulled away far enough for Bam to put the brick back in his jumpsuit.
MAYOR SHAUN: What am I going to do here guys? We’re in the middle of a crisis of monumental proportions.
The Chief of Police breaks his silence.
CHIEF of POLICE: All I know is what we saw this morning wasn’t a light show.
Chris Page steps forward.
CHRIS PAGE: If I may. Listen, I’ve only been working with these guys for a day, and this shit is real! My wife turned into some kind of creature, we’ve got an angry prick that won’t understand that he sucks a dick, I’ve been slimed by some nasty green thing.
Fred steps forward.
FRED VENKMAN: You can believe shit for brains or you can believe us when we say that this city is headed for a catastrophe of biblical proportions.
Bam Stantz steps forward.
BAM STANTZ: Wrath of God type stuff.
Joe Spangler then states.
JOE SPANGLER: Mass hysteria.
MAYOR SHAUN: I get it! Alright!
The mayor states while coming around his desk looking at all four men.
MAYOR SHAUN: What if you’re wrong?
CHRIS PAGE: If we’re wrong nothing happens and we go to jail, and you can throw away the key.
William Osh leans into the frame as the mayor appears to be pondering his options.
WILLIAM OSH: I can’t believe you’re seriously considering this.
The Mayor’s eyes dart over at William Osh and then back over to the Ghostbusters before he states.
MAYOR SHAUN: Get him outta here.
William Osh completely loses his shit as he lunges toward the Ghostbusters one more time but is pulled back by the Police who then kindly show him the exit while Chris sarcastically spouts out.
CHRIS PAGE: I am not going to miss him.
The mayor steps back around his desk taking his seat at his desk.
MAYOR SHAUN: So, what’s the plan here?
Fred speaks up.
FRED VENKMAN: The way I see it, sir, we’ve got to do our thing.
CHRIS PAGE: There are only four people that have the tools necessary to stop this bleeding, and with all due respect… you’re looking at them. We show up to work every day and give it more than one hundred percent. Do we stumble? Yes. Do we fall? Yes. But we get back up and keep on keeping on because that is what’s embedded into our cores.
This isn’t something we can say about lame dick Cavanagh. I’ve said it before but it bears repeating for the argument's sake. If the IIW was the tippy top of the food chain when it comes to professional wrestling if the level of talent is so superior to that of the rest of the world as you want me to believe… WHY THE FUCK DID THEY CALL US? Oh yeah, that’s right… it’s because guys like YOU aren’t worthy to carry your brand.
We in CCPE not only carry the weight of this organization but several others. It’s kind of our thing, it’s what we do because pieces of shit like you that think they’re the be-all-end-all can’t hold out jocks.
It’s not the first time we’ve been called to save organizations because the homegrowns have grown stale and boring. Now, instead of bitching about it you had the opportunity to do something about it, and yet for the last seven months, I haven’t seen you jumping to the front of the line to try and take me or my loser friends that outshine you down? If it BOTHERED you that much you’d think you would have been jumping at the chance… and yet, crickets. Isn’t that a little interesting? I mean, I’ve got one of the loudest mouths in the industry and have made no qualms about getting in the ring with anyone which included you. So why has it taken you so long for a guy that’s had sooooooo much to say?
Don’t worry bud it’s a rhetorical question because I am certainly going to tell you.
It’s because you knew that the end result is Chris Page standing over John Cavanagh. Well, now you are on the cusp of finding out why I not only talk the talk but I walk the walk. Your attempts thus far don’t even put you on El Landerson status… and that’s saying something. You should probably direct your hostilities toward yourself because you are the one that’s responsible for being on the outside looking in.
CHRIS PAGE: We don’t fail, your honor. We are your only hope to bring peace and sanity back to this city.
MAYOR SHAUN: If you guys fail there isn’t going to be any mercy taken on your souls.
Chris rolls his eyes.
CHRIS PAGE: You wouldn’t have called for us if you didn’t think we were capable.
MAYOR SHAUN: Wait a second…
The Mayor looks up and down at Chris Page before asking.
MAYOR SHAUN: I’ve seen you somewhere before.
Chris immediately responds.
CHRIS PAGE: I’ve been known to do some Pro Wrestling a time or two.
The Mayor claps his hands together from his seat.
MAYOR SHAUN: That’s it! You’re the Chris Page. You’re one of the elites of the wrestling business.
CHRIS PAGE: It’s true. It’s true.
MAYOR SHAUN: How did you end up with these guys? Never mind, wife, creature, I remember.
CHRIS PAGE: I stepped up when they needed me. It’s kind of what I do.
I don’t sit around and pull a Cav waiting for the opportunity to present itself, instead I create my own by beating the breaks off little pissants like him. Now, remember his first round as he cast his thoughts on my outside endeavors while trying to compare himself to me when let’s face it, there’s no comparison when I exceed him in every sense of the word. Maybe it would help if you were just remotely a little creative. What generic fuck thinks it’s a cool idea to cut a promo from a bar?
John Cavanagh.
Let’s pretend for three seconds that we haven’t seen that a time or two, eh? John, are you running out of places to go and pretend to be a professional wrestler, or are you just not wanted anywhere else because it’s an easy place to drown those sorrows after the verbal ass-kicking that I’ve been giving you since we started this thing? No wonder your shit makes no sense, but the whiskey down and focus, it’s not a complicated task… well, maybe for you.
Secondly, that’s for clarifying that 365 days is in fact a year.
I am pretty sure that’s groundbreaking news for anyone that isn’t in elementary school.
365 days since you’ve had a one-on-one opportunity for the title, is that right? Why? Aren’t you this legendary icon? Aren’t you this big bad wolf that’s blowing houses down? Aren’t you the man that’s supposed to be the savior of the IIW? Nah, do you know why you haven't had another shot? You’re a glorified failure. You’ve been handed countless opportunities and you’ve fucked them all up. It’s not rocket science, we’re not splitting atoms when it comes down to this science, and based on what I’ve seen out of you the last several months I completely understand WHY you’ve not been afforded another shot since. Fuck man, your performance here thus far solidifies that you don’t belong with all the inconsistencies you’ve been spitting that make absolutely no sense coming from a dude that couldn’t kick out of a German Suplex. How many times are you going to continue making excuses for FAILING inside the Chamber, oh fearless badass who we should be worshipping the ground he walks on?
If you were half as good as you profess to be there wouldn’t be excuses for your shortcomings flowing from that Hell’s Kitchen cock sucker of yours, oh no. You’d admit where YOU dropped the ball and you’d figure out how to correct it… but to admit that YOU fucked up is not hard for you to comprehend let alone admit that it makes making excuses the easy way out. Taking the easy way out isn’t what Champions are built on, bud. There lies the difference between you and me because I don’t need to rely on excuses for failures, I don’t need to point the finger at anyone other than myself when things don’t go my way because part of being a man is owning up when you fuck up.
… I suppose Mama Cav didn’t instill that into you.
Probably because she had a dick in her mouth, vag, and ass simultaneously upon your conception. I hear from Vinnie on the block that she was quite the slut puppy back in the day and that everyone had a turn. Don’t get me wrong, who am I to say how someone earns their money or how they don’t. I find it fitting that you’ll both earn it the same way… on your backs. Speaking of backs- why are you backing up from your previous statements? How the fuck are you going to stand in front of me and tell me you haven’t spoken on my crew when you LITERALLY called everyone I associate with losers? Hit that bottle one more time Johnny because the ONLY thing you’ve done since you opened that whore mouth of yours is make this about ANYTHING other than you and me for the Championship, and I get it because I’ve been in the industry longer than you, I’ve tasted more success than you, and I’ve seen these actions of yours a million times before which is why it’s been so easy to make you look like the court jester you fucking clown.
Who the fuck is this guy?
Somebody call Justin back because he was more of a challenge than this fuckboy.
At this point, we’re just going to start calling out all the bullshit, like this.
____
John Cavanagh- “Sure, Chris, I’m sure you would like to point out how you’ve run circles around the competition that you’ve found here in the IIW…albeit when the three heaviest hitters this promotion ever had to offer were basically nowhere to be found.”
Way to downgrade yourself in one sentence. Way to take away any credibility YOU had going for yourself by not including yourself as a heavy hitter. I mean, I get why you wouldn’t put yourself in that category because it’s another Cav False Fact, but furthermore, Jonny C was running around on top of the mountain and he avoided me like the plague; you know, the same guy that YOU brought up on the first go around, the guy that you built up as IIW’s unstoppable and how he couldn’t touch you years ago, or some bullshit. When you open your mouth and make stupid statements like that you’ve taken away from YOUR own message you dumb cunt.
Let the record show yet another contradictory statement by the Cav man that takes fuel out of his own “fire”. Only a moron does that. New flash, if your “heavies” were here they’d suffer the same fate as everyone else before you and after, defeat. You see John, at this point I don’t expect anything intelligent from you because your back is against the wall, you’re reacting, you’re allowing your emotions to get involved which is leading you down this rabbit hole that you’re not going to be able to come out of.
____
John Cavanagh- “A few wisecracks about how all of us old heads, the old guard, the veterans, the people that built this goddamn place that your vile heart seeks to destroy don’t want competition. Man, you’re a fucking moron if you ever thought something like that was the truth. What in the blue hell is the point of this sport we call professional wrestling if there isn’t a little bit of competition? You think I’m running from competition?”
Here we go again, Captain Dumbfuck trying to spin a statement when the context was crystal clear. So, allow me to dumb this down, let me speak slow enough so that you can comprehend the words in which I’m speaking. I never said you are running from the competition, I asked a simple question for a man that’s full of piss and vinegar, for a man that claims to be the be-all-end-all, for a man that’s stood on top of the mountain in DEAD FEDS why haven’t you amounted to anything other than a jobber to the stars? Why haven’t you put yourself on that list of “heavies” you previously mentioned? You portray yourself as this temperamental badass, you’d like for me to believe that you’re on my level yet YOU have been here for years and haven’t tasted much success. You’ve allowed yourself to be overshadowed by ME in a matter of months when if you were half as good as you want me to believe you’d been to the top, you’d be in the conversation, you’d be more than just a “good hand”.
Don’t you dare try and stand before me being the unoriginal sack of monkey crap that I’ve exposed you as and continue on this route of sheer nonsense? ____
John Cavanagh: Listen, you couldn’t even make yourself a cult classic let alone a cinematic masterpiece. Do you think that you’re the type of competition the IIW needs? You’re sadly mistaken. I watched from the sidelines while I was out healing wounds and ya know what I saw? Some piece of shit who wanted to be the numero uno tough guy but could barely fight his way out of a paper bag.
They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, didn’t I just use the wet paper sack on you in my last promotional release? Why the fuck are you copying me? Oh yeah, because originality doesn’t run through those veins, More importantly, how could you be watching from the sidelines healing imaginary wounds when you’ve been booked over the last seven months?
Are you guys sure he’s World Title material?
It sounds like he’s grasping at the shortest of straws to make it through a second promo while I’ve been coasting and continuing my path of dominance. Let’s talk about the beginning of that statement because here you go again contradicting yourself. You just said all the heavies are gone which means there isn’t any competition, or that was the consensus you were drawing, right? That was the jab you tried to throw, so are you saying that the man that has beaten the unbeatable, that at one point in time defeated every Champion that matters isn’t competition for anyone? Yeah, that makes about as much sense as not being able to do things on your own without having people whispering in your ears trying to help you on your quest. Let’s be perfectly frank, this isn’t Chris Page versus John Cavanagh, this is Chris Page versus The Homegrowns.
I am walking into this battle fighting for everything that all of you fear.
Change.
You can’t cast aside that whatever you boys were doing here before my arrival wasn’t working or else I wouldn’t have had to come and give you some credibility. My arrival opened the doors for the talent boom you see before you here today. I assure you they’re not here for you, they’re not here for your boys, they’re here to get in the ring with me… and to take it a step further the moment I am awarded that IIW World Heavyweight Championship even more top names throughout the world of professional wrestling are going to show up because unlike YOU my name carries clout outside of this disaster you call a federation.
How does it feel to be my own personal punching bag? You’ve made this shit easier than Crush did.
CHRIS PAGE: Mr. Mayor, these guys are great on their own because I’ve seen them in action, but if you put me with them with my guts, my heart, my determination we are going to save this city, and we’re going save the world.
MAYOR SHAUN: You seem to think highly of yourself. You do understand what you’re asking, right?
CHRIS PAGE: I’m telling you in front of the team and your advisors that when you give me the ball, I don’t fuck it up. Everyone has that one intersecting moment, this is yours.
Chris steps back away from the desk.
FRED VENKMAN: Mr. Mayor thinks about this, when we do this you will have saved the lives of millions of registered voters.
A sly smirk etches on the face of Mayor Shaun before he pushes himself away from his desk and gets out of his chair. The mayor lets out a deep sigh before glancing over at the Chiefs of Police and Fire who collectively shrug their shoulders before he shifts his gaze back to the Ghostbusters.
MAYOR SHAUN: Don’t fuck it up.
CHRIS PAGE: Who do you think we are, Cav?
MAYOR SHAUN: Who?
CHRIS PAGE: Exactly!
Chris winks at the Mayor.
Are we ready for a little more?
____
John Cavanagh- "I witnessed Chris Page was able to assemble his team of merry assmunchers to do his dirty work for him because not only does he lack the testicular fortitude to get the job done but he also lacks the prerequisite skill set."
Okay, let’s talk about it since you’ve made this a point of content in your first release and now your second I’m seeing a trend that you don’t know how to come up with anything on your own or something you literally said back at the Chamber, back when your little girl's club got beat for the tag titles, back earlier this week, and now here again. You continue to harp on CCPE yet show me ONE time where they’ve interjected themselves in my matches, show me where they’ve gotten involved in my affairs… You can’t.
Why?
Because I’ve handled my business on my own.
How fucking stupid are you, dude? I could see that statement-making some sort of sense if I had help if they somehow got involved in the finishes of my matches and yet they haven’t. So nah, I don’t need anyone to do my dirty work but if you’re referring to the night I left you laying you’ll see that I haven’t made a point to speak on that piece of YOUR biggest flop to date at the Elimination Chamber. Do you know why? Because no one would hear me over the tantrum you’ve been throwing about it. So yeah, if that is the ONE instance you’re basing that bullshit statement on you need to do better bro but that ship you’re riding is sinking faster than the Titanic.
Crush- beaten clean.
Scotty- beaten clean.
The Excellence dude that isn’t around- beaten clean.
The Excellence tag team- beaten clean
The Celtic Club- beaten clean.
I’m sure there are one or two more I’m missing but the name that matters; at least for this one night. is this one.
John Cavanagh- beaten clean.
What pisses you off is that deep down inside I am everything that you want to be. I’m dominant throughout many spectrums of the sport, I can travel from federation to federation taking on their “heavies” and leave them in the dust while you barely muster up enough energy to compete here in the IIW. You want to cast your propaganda, hurl your insults that have been written by kindergartens, but deep down inside you know that you’re nowhere near half the man I am when it comes to dishing out devastation to this sport. My name is constantly in the headlines, it’s mentioned hundreds of times a day by different people for different reasons because I transcend Professional Wrestling. Don’t get mad at me because you don’t have the chops to go on tour, don’t cast your insecurities for being sub-par at best upon me because you aren’t capable of creating that name for yourself outside the waters in which you swim because in those deeper waters that you aren’t capable of going there are far bigger fish that will swallow you hole as I’ve done off jump street. I’m just getting started with pointing out your crap. When I’m done exposing you you’re going to run and hide while recovering from “injuries” to that pride of yours knowing that you got beaten by not only the better man but the superior athlete!
Here’s my favorite thus far.
Guys and gals, I don’t want to tell you how to be or anything… but let me point out you don’t waste so much time dragging someone down, trying to convince YOU that I am just another name that’s coming in to strike while the iron is hot, that I’m a loser and associate with nothing but the worst people on the planet, or to elude that I need other people to find success.
____
John Cavanagh: You speak about five or six months of dominance, I commend you for it. Regardless of how vile I find you to be, regardless of how much I’d love to see your body flung from a high-rise building with a couple dozen stab wounds leaking blood, I can’t take away the strides you’ve made. I wouldn’t go as far as to call what you’ve accomplished dominant but you were able to win the Tag Team Championships with doppelganger Debonair.
YOU DON’T GIVE THEM CREDIBILITY!
Cav, you’re supposed to be this legend? Why the fuck did you spend so much time half-assed trying to break me down only to INVALIDATE your own words by turning right around and giving me credit? Once again, every village has an idiot. Since you wouldn’t consider my resume thus far as dominant let me show you how you effectively spin stupidity back onto the perpetrator. I touched on part of it earlier so we can hammer it on home here. Where have you been while I was beating every “top” talent on this federations roster?
In your own words, you’re on the sidelines.
Interesting.
I would consider my one win over Crush, who at that time was the handpicked chosen one superseding ANYTHING you’ve done throughout this calendar year. That one victory makes me more dominant than you and that’s the point that you failed to grasp. I love when dumb fucks like you take general bait statements and turn them into what you think is gold only to be taught that you’re never too old to learn new lessons against BETTER men than you. I appreciate you being dumb enough to invalidate yourself and your promotional materials because after that fuck up there isn’t really any going back.
The sirens are blaring outside City Hall as we find The Ghostbusters heading to the Ghostmobile as a massive crowd is gathered. Bam gets in the driver's seat while Fred takes the passenger leaving Chris and Joe to get in the backseat. The Ghostmobile is surrounded by police cars with sirens blaring.
They take off to a roar from the crowd.
Police barriers are set up streetside outside of the Velvet Rabbit where some sort of vortex seems to be opening amid the dark skies above the Rabbit. The Ghostmobile comes to a stop in the middle of the street with two police cars in front and two cars behind. There’s a huge crowd of onlookers, and some priests in a group praying.
The Ghostbusters get out of the car to a loud round of applause.
The foursome looks up at the massive skyscraper of an establishment.
CHRIS PAGE: This fuckwad is going to pay.
The Ghostbusters huddle outside the main entrance.
FRED VENKMAN: I don’t want to put any unnecessary pressure on our shoulders or anything, but uh, if we fail there is no coming back.
JOE SPANGLER: I don’t know about you guys… but I can’t think of a place I’d rather be than here with you. The only thing we can do is stick together.
BAM STANTZ: I’m just here to chew bubble gum and throw some bricks… and I’m all out of bubble gum.
All heads turn toward Bam.
FRED VENKMAN: Wrong fucking movie!
Bam responds with…
Chris then speaks.
CHRIS PAGE: I know I’m the new guy to this kilq, but I want all of you to know that whatever we are about to walk into that I’ve got your backs.
They all nod before breaking the huddle and heading to the back of the Ghostmobile. The truck is opened and they pull out the proton packs. Joe Spangler takes one and helps Chris put it on.
CHRIS PAGE: Anything I need to know about this?
As Joe finishes helping him he turns Chris around and responds.
JOE SPANGLER: Don’t cross the streams.
CHRIS PAGE: Fair enough.
I’ve always professed that leadership is by example when recruiting my talents in CCPE because I teach it daily. It’s easy for guys to be the top dogs in one organization, it’s easy to spout out that you’re the best and that nobody can touch you, and it’s easy to write checks that deep down inside you know your ass can’t cash. Walking into this opportunity to take the top prize of the IIW while SAVING it from the carnage that has already fallen upon it is something that I take incredibly seriously. The last time I bothered to challenge for any top prize was January 2020 when I claimed the XWF Universal Championship at fifty years old making me the oldest Universal Champion in that company's year nonstop history. I defended that title successfully seven times before having it taken away with a cash-in of a briefcase.
Don’t get me wrong I’ve had countless federations want me in that position but it was declined because at that time it wasn’t about the titles for me more than it was proving my worth to an industry that doubted me.
When I won number seventeen I won it on the first challenge, same with sixteen, fifteen, and fourteen.
I bring this up to make a very valid point that actually makes sense.
Every time I’ve been challenged for any major World Title over the last four years I’ve won it on the first try.
The IIW World Title isn’t going to fall under different circumstances, John.
Your lack of attention, your inferiority with this gift of gab, your lack of real creative drive to produce anything that isn’t just dull or bland like standing by a lake or as overused as a bar. It’s laziness, bud, and it’s exactly what I’ve been pointing out not just about you but about everyone that I have steamrolled on my tracks to getting back to the top of the mountain, and you’re dumber than you look if you think that some spoiled little baby is going to stop me from attaining that goal in front of eighty thousand of my closest friends and family! I’ve literally embarrassed you with your own views, I’ve pointed out your inconsistencies, and I’ve shown where you’ve made the rookie mistakes when dealing with someone greater than you could dare to dream of being. If this was a court of law you would have been laughed out by now with your sheer lack of connecting and making an effective point. I wish I could be as lame as that but I have standards when I grace a company with my time or energy.
FRED VENKMAN: It’s time to go to work.
The crowd explodes loudly as it quickly went from hundreds to thousands as the foursome started to head up the stairs and enter The Velvet Rabbit Manhattan. Upon fading inside the massive building the lights are flickering and dimming, and the usually busy first floor is empty without a soul in sight. Chris walks over across the lobby and hits the elevator button only to see nothing happen. He mutters the word.
CHRIS PAGE: Fuck.
JOE SPANGLER: What’s the matter?
Chris turns around facing the team.
CHRIS PAGE: Elevators down… it looks like we’re taking the stairs.
They all roll their eyes and head to the entrance to the staircase.
Here we go again, folks.
____
John Cavanagh- "The guy who thinks he made this place the destination, hey shithead, I don’t know if you listened to a word I had to say but if you just regurgitate what I say…and claim it as your own…it kind of kills all sense of credibility and originality you’re going for. See, you think you made this place when the fact of the matter remains that you wouldn’t have bothered coming here if it weren’t a destination.
The answer to the first piece is no, I don’t listen to the ramblings of a child that couldn’t kick out of a German Suplex, and as for the regurgitation please see above with the paper sack comment because once again you’ve opened that mouth and inserted that foot. I don’t know how many times I need to cover this information that not only Shaun Hart but your owner Osh has already stamped as true.
Shaun Hart put out an open challenge for any team to come to take on Team Friendship.
Federations do that when they’re running thin.
I called Shaun upon seeing the open challenge, and we talked about it, I came in. You’re dumb fucking logic doesn’t work when once again here we are explaining to a two-year-old how this works. Take note of the date real quick so I can continue to make the fool dance to the beat of my drum.
February 2022.
Does that ring a bell to you?
Probably not because you’ve got your head so far up your own ass you won’t bother to see the light of day. Why is that day important? It’s the day this company elected GO MAINSTREAM. Now, allow me to further illustrate my point for the dumbest of the dumb. THIS YEAR is the first year that the IIW elected to promote themselves outside of the homegrowns! How remedial can you be!! A destination?!?! Late February 2022 the tweet is out LOOKING for COMPETITION by your own fucking company! A DESTINATION?? Who could find it when it’s advertised? Oh yeah, that’s right, within this delusional world that you live in EVERYONE knows about you and EVERYONE knows about the legacy of an organization that’s been around for over a decade but only THIS YEAR started promoting it.
Before going mainstream, this roster was deflated.
After going mainstream the federation explodes with new and fresh talent.
Regardless if you elect to give me the credit for that or not doesn’t change that your argument is a lost cause when FACTS trump them every step of the way. If you want to seriously try to convince the world this place was anything BUT and unknown before this year I wish you luck because I don’t see another idiot other than yourself buying those bill of goods. The IIW is a STEP DOWN for me, you are THREE STEPS down for me, the fact that I’m entertaining this level of ignorance is beyond me but since you’ve elected to speak on the SAME THING yet again for the FIFTH time rather than bring something substantial to the table only further establishes why your spot in this company is where it’s always been.
On the sidelines.
But why is this even a topic of conversation? Why have you elected to draw back to the repeated subjects continuously like your logic makes sense to anyone with half a brain?
Creativity isn’t your thing.
Check.
Picked that up two months ago when you continued to sound like a broken record on your road to FAILING to kick out of a German!
We catch up with the Ghostbuster on their way up the staircase coming up on the twenty-second floor.
BAM STANTZ: Are we there yet?
Bam asks while puffing on a cigarette while Joe, Fred, and Chris trailing behind him.
CHRIS PAGE: What floor are we on?
BAM STANTZ: Twenty-Two.
CHRIS PAGE: Thirty-eight more to go.
Joe finally lashes out.
JOE SPANGLER: If I’m climbing thirty-eight more flights of stairs I’m going into the damn Empire Room!
CHRIS PAGE: Well, I tell you what… we get through this, we save Candice, and we rid the world of Cav I give you my word not only will you get into the Empire Room, I’ll get you a pass.
JOE SPANGLER: I’m holding you to that.
Fred chimes in as they continue to climb the staircases.
FRED VENKMAN: Did she have to build sixty floors?
Chris answers.
CHRIS PAGE: What can I say, she’s got big dreams, aspirations, and a work ethic like no other. It’s something that we share in common. We’re both individuals that refuse to take no for an answer when it comes to something we want. Right now, I want to restore order to the City, save her, and show Cav that just because you talk a big game doesn’t mean you’re unbeatable.
BAM STANTZ: Did we ever find out what Cav’s hard-on with Chris is?
Joe responds.
JOE SPANGLER: I was able to do some research and the only thing I can say conclusively is that he wants to be Chris Page. It seems to get his panties in a wad that he never amounted to the wrestling star that Page is.
CHRIS PAGE: I wish I could say that didn’t track but truth be told it’s something I’m met with regularly from the bottom feeders of the industry, the guys that think their organization is not only the only organization that matters but that what they’ve done or NOT done in their tenure means anything when they’re continuously overshadowed by yours truly.
JOE SPANGLER: With the wrestling, the television series, the movies that you’ve done it wouldn’t surprise me that he wants what he never could attain. I figure his way to you was through your wife, and now we’re on the cusp of figuring out if we’re right or if we’re wrong.
Fred then states.
FRED VENKMAN: Do people seriously hate you that much?
Chris smirks as he stops walking and directs his attention directly to the lens of the camera.
CHRIS PAGE: You tell me.
Chris turns his head straight ahead and continues heading up the staircase behind Fred.
FRED VENKMAN: Shocking.
CHRIS PAGE: It’s not my fault that I am more entertaining, more charismatic, and genuinely just not a dull, boring sack of Hell’s Kitchen shit that lives in a hole-in-the-wall apartment cuddling up next to a fiery redhead at a meet and greets.
Aw shucks Cav, I knew you were a fan.
Nailed it.
CHRIS PAGE: I was just born better.
___
John Cavanah- It’s time for good old Johnnie Cav to be the guy to pick up the ball, toss the entire goddamn promotion on his back and run for the end zone. It’s time for John Cavanagh to be the face of the promotion not because he stole a championship or used some underhanded tactics to win the championship like Chris Page’s cowardly ass will still try to do at Red Alert, but because he genuinely earned it.
OOOHHHHHHHH really? Since when did you wake up and decide you wanted to compete the way I see it is you haven’t been about jack or shit for eight months and the only reason you’re here is that you won a fucking qualifying match. Where has this fire been for the last two years, John? You don’t get to wake up and suddenly give a fuck and expect the lacklusterness of your career in the IIW to be overlooked. If you REALLY wanted to be the man you wouldn’t have failed at the Chamber, you wouldn’t have failed against Jake just like you’re going to fail against me… again. Now, the second part of this makes me giggle, you imply that I need to resort to shady tactics to beat you?
Dude… and I mean this with all my heart.
Don’t flatter yourself.
All I need is a German Suplex, HEEEEYYYOOOOO!
Explain to me how a guy sitting on the sidelines; your words, EARN the IIW World Heavyweight Championship? This isn’t even fun anymore taking all of your words and smacking you with them because that’s what the hell you deserve, and the last thing is to be standing in this spotlight with me… thank God I can make chicken salad out of chicken shit.
____
John Cavanah- I’ll be damned if some jerkoff that thinks he’s bigger than it makes a mockery of the one championship in this business that still has a glimmer of prestige remaining because God knows you and your little political bullshit already destroyed all the good I did for the International Championship.
What is the deal with politics? You act like I have the power to book this fucking program when my only stroke is collecting sizeable paychecks for making guys like you relevant even if for a smattering of time. How is J Mont winning a Battle Royale political? Wasn’t that open to ANYONE? I mean, you’d know if you paid attention to the promotion the company does. Joe showed up just like many others answering the OPEN CALL from the IIW. I didn’t compete on Joe’s behalf, I didn’t have anything to do with him winning… he won because he’s one of those LOSERS that according to you I associate with.
Remember?
Stop trying to lay the foundation for your defeat.
There isn’t anything political about me knocking your dick in the dirt. It’s purely business on my end, because like I’ve said many times before I’ll remind you now that it doesn’t matter who was standing across the ring from me come Red Alert the end result is Chris Page leaving with the IIW Championship. Order will be restored. The company will only get stronger and you can go back to sitting with your thumb up your ass.
You might have sacrificed a lot within your career.
News Flash.
So has everybody that laces a pair of boots, cry me another river. Guys like you aren’t part of the solution, you are the problem. Hi John, I’m the problem solver and I’ve been solving them since the day I graced you with my presence. You’re so quick to point the finger at me for being gracious enough with my time to make the IIW a better organization, better competition, and opening the doors for so many others to venture over and find instant success while guys like you get all pissy in your panties because your spot on the roster starts bumping further and further down the card.
It’s not my fault you didn’t give two shits before it mattered.
I can’t help that your work ethic is contingent on WHAT is at stake before you suddenly try to play billy badass; poorly, mind you when you should be giving a crap every time you’re in the ring against ANY opponent regardless of the level of talent or if there’s a strap of gold at stake. Now, do yourself a favor and run back through all the promotional packages I’ve released under the IIW umbrella, and show me where I’ve phoned anything in against any opponent. Keep in mind the rumblings amongst the real political powerhouses upon my arrival was the length I elected to occupy in front of the camera, and yet here you are trying desperately to match me minute for a minute while nothing is being uttered about it. So it’s cute when you throw the political word around in my direction, perhaps you weren’t ever informed that anytime you point a finger at someone you’ve got THREE pointed back at you.
Let that one marinate.
____
John Cavanagh: Meanwhile, the other option is you, the cancer running rampant attempting to kill the body. Now, remember boys and girls, Chris Page has spent years building his brand. He’s spent all of this time building a false reality and spreading his false narrative about how important he is when it comes to the sport of professional wrestling.
Do you make a point to come off like a complete caveman with these flawed thoughts? See kids, this is what happens when people open their mouths without any concept of what they’re talking about. Do you even interact with the outside world? False narrative? Bruh, grow up and come to grips with the notion that the IIW isn’t the only place on the market. That’s a false narrative. Do yourself a favor, open a Twitter account, pay attention to the world around you and take notice of how many people speak my name. That’s not a false narrative. Denzel Porter, the premiere journalist in our industry has named me as one of the best in 2022, that’s not a false narrative, my podcasts average more clicks than anything your name is attached to, that’s not a false narrative I’ll drop the numbers if it makes you feel better.
Do you have companies coming to you asking you to partake in their premier events? Nah.
I have wrestled more matches since being HERE in the IIW than you have all fucking year let alone counting my outside adventures that were once harped on by the political powers as being “not IIW” related and here you are wasting YOUR time talking about them. It’s awesome to see how hypocritical you’re showing yourself to be.
… and then it hit me.
You don’t have a choice but to attack the outside life of Chris Page because the IIW life of Chris Page is un-FUCKING-blemished! It’s kinda hard to attack perfection, isn’t it? What your dumbass has once again failed to understand is there are two sides to this sport; the physical side of the coin, the in-ring aspect of what we do. I’m very successful there. The second side of that coin, the side I find equally if not more important… the mental game. It’s the piece of the equation that dictates more than anyone will truly ever know. While you are all riled up trying to convince yourself that you belong, while you continue to lash out with inconsistent ramblings of a buffoon from the stone age I’ll keep on trucking on my way to fulfilling destiny.
I can’t wait to hear the excuses you try to make this time.
JOE SPANGLER: Do we knock?
Joe asks as they reach the top floor of the Velvet Rabbit.
CHRIS PAGE: I’m pretty sure they know we’re coming.
Chris responds while reaching out and opening the door leading into the office of Candice Wolf-Page. A shot of the kitchen is shown, the eggs still fried on the counter with the carton sitting open beside it. The attention of the Ghostbusters can be seen in the hallway leading to the bedroom door that’s swung open with winds barrelling in their direction.
FRED VENKMAN: I think we’re in the right place!
Bam nudes Chris to be the first to walk into the bedroom. Chris pivots his attention toward Bam.
BAM STANTZ: You’re the new guy.
Chris responds.
CHRIS PAGE: Ah, so we’re hazing, of all times now?
BAM STANTZ: It seems like the best time.
Chris simply shakes his head as he pulls the trigger from his proton pack out from its holster. Chris looks it over trying to figure out how to turn it on. Joe reaches over flipping the switch on the handler.
[youtube src]www.youtube.com/watch?v=DzVGDdXnxd4[/youtube]
CHRIS PAGE: Good looking out.
Joe nods before shooing Chris toward the bedroom door.
CHRIS PAGE: Wow.
Chris turns around starting to walk toward the door with the crew following closely behind him. He steps into the bedroom with his attention taken to the floor-to-ceiling windows that remain shattered with the dark skies looming. Flashes of lightning followed by loud rumblings are seen and heard. Bam Stantz wanders off toward the door that once led to the bathroom where he finds a staircase. He turns toward the room and asks.
BAM STANTZ: Where do these stairs go?
Fred Venkman enters the frame looking at the stairs and then at Bam.
FRED VENKMAN: They go up.
Chris walks over and steps between the two before taking the lead as he begins to head up the stairs. The Ghostbusters reach the top of the stairs where they find.
____
John Cavanah- See, that’s the thing, that big fat head of yours is too far up your goddamn ass for you to see that you’ve got a snake in the grass lurking amongst you and you actually trusted him as a teammate. Do you want to brag about beating Crush? Please, my guy, who the fuck hasn’t defeated Crush? I’m pretty sure the only guy who hasn’t defeated Crush yet is his mentally challenged brother, PG-13
Where is your win over him? You do know that he has three losses on his record, the first by me, a loss in the Chamber, and a loss to PG-13. Do you even fucking watch your own product you claim you’re ready to lead? You not only haven’t beaten him you were conveniently nowhere to be found while he was racking up his first seven wins now where ya? If that statement alone doesn’t establish your entire building blocks for this one “epic” contest build on whatever your delusional mind can conjure up to occupy a little more TV time but trust me when I tell you that you’re shit out of masks to hide behind while showing everyone that while you claim that you’re ready for the burden that comes with carrying an organization that you’d end up being more of an embarrassment than if El Landerson ACTUALLY won the World Title.
You contradict yourself at every turn.
You’re showing me that with every word you speak just how much back peddling you’re having to do in order to try and keep the same generic points that carry zero weight in the first place. You haven’t convinced anyone why this is important versus making this a one-man crusade on my outside life; conveniently more entertaining than you in general.
____
John Cavanah-While you inflate your own worth or deflate the value of the championship you fight for, let us take a look at the clusterfuck that we have all been forced to witness over the last few months. A travesty that your paint thinner huffing ass was even able to point out–the poor championship has been thrown into a shit storm like none other hasn’t it? onny drops the gold to Russell, Russell breaks some bones, Elimination Chamber…thanks for that by the way asshole…
First of all, what's an onny? Not sure I've heard that one before.
Secondly, are you calling me the booker? This is your third time giving me credit for something that I have nothing to do with. As a matter of fact, I ASKED to take part in it when it was first being discussed but was told to hold off so we have something for Pay-Per-View. So, what the fuck do I have to do with the Chamber?
Osh, are you seeing this shit?
This dude is so out of touch he thinks I book this shit! Truth is if I did have that pencil I would have been on top months ago but the egos of your circle jerk made sure that shit didn’t happen. But now we are on the cusp of that history being rewritten at your expense. It’s just a shame that you actually believe this.
Hey Shaun, Bob, Jenny, Osh, you guys can all go home because I got this.
So since I call the shots here’s a spoiler and it’s something I’ve been professing for months. You have your eyes and ears locked on the man that is going to drive the future of this company. John has already shown us just how far stretched his imagination truly is, and while I’ll continue having a lot of fun at his expense exploiting idiocracy at its finest the rest of you who take what you do seriously should probably start taking notes when it comes to verbally sparring with God; take note of what twinkle tits have done on this road to Red Alert… and do the opposite.
Like not giving me MORE credit!
____
John Cavanagh: See, that’s what happens when you actually had to prove yourself your entire life, you develop a bit of a swagger, a bit of charisma, and what’s more is it kind of just flows off of you naturally. It’s not fake, you can’t teach it, you have to refine your edges from years upon years, decades even of the constant grind of pitting yourself against someone else and constantly finding a way to come out on top.
See, I knew you finally did some REAL homework instead of jerking yourself off. You’re one hundred percent right that I’ve put in the work, that I’ve proven myself as the hottest commodity in the industry today when I choose to be, but while you’re so busy talking about everything that doesn’t matter you seemed to have missed the part where I clearly stated that my time traveling to deal with outside projects in other organizations came to a close almost two weeks ago when I took down another “legend” in the house that he took credit for building. The IIW is my home kingdom that I will rule over with an iron fist. I welcome all comers to try and knock me off the throne because I’m a realist, and I know there is a day that Chris Page will be beaten in the IIW. When that happens whoever is man enough to do it is going to have something worth bragging about… that man or woman isn’t John Cavanagh.
… but I do appreciate the complete contradiction.
Did you see what I just did there? Do you see how easy it is to take something out of context and make it fit my narrative? Mental Game, Johnny, you’re a beaten man.
CHRIS PAGE: Candice?!?!
Chris asks as he looks at the triangle vortex where seated in front of it is…
Chris, Fred, Joe, and Bam stand at the bottom of the stairs when emerging out from the vortex is…
JOE SPANGLER: It’s him.
Chris responds.
CHRIS PAGE: That’s the little shit that’s causing all this drama?
FRED VENKMAN: What do we do now?
Bam speaks up.
BAM STANTZ: I got this!
Bam starts to walk up the stairs reaching the third step before he’s asked by Cav.
CAV: Are you a God?
Bam glances back down at his team seeing Fred encourage him to answer. He turns back toward Cav at the top of the stairs standing next to the Creature, petting it on the forehead.
BAM STANTZ: Uhhh… No.
Cav responds.
CAV: Then die!
Bam thinks quickly reaching into his jumpsuit and getting his brick! He hurls it at Cav who throws his hands at Bam sending a force of unknown energy that sends not only Bam tumbling down the stairs but the rest of the Ghostbusters sailing toward the side of the roof where Joe Spangler nearly falls off the edge.
The crowd below has quadrupled in size as they shockingly gasp.
Fred Venkman grabs him while Bam is there to help as well as they pull Joe back up onto the roof. They huddle up.
CHRIS PAGE: Bam, when someone asks if you’re a God you say YES!
Bam nods in understanding as they all help each other get back up to a vertical base. The Ghostbusters once again emerge to the foot of the steps looking up at Cav.
CHRIS PAGE: I got this guys.
Chris starts to walk up the stairs, and when he reaches the third step Cav once again asks.
CAV: Are you a God?
Without hesitation, Chris responds.
CHRIS PAGE: Duh.
Chris throws up his proton trigger firing at Cav who leaps high into the air flipping over The Ghostbusters and landing on a platform behind them. Chris spins around as do the rest of the Ghostbusters where we see Cav disappear into thin air.
JOE SPANGLER: What the hell?!?!
Chris comes down the stairs rejoining the team.
CHRIS PAGE: I knew he was a bitch.
BAM STANTZ: YEAH!!
Fred then exclaims.
FRED VENKMAN: We’ve done the impossible!
Chris states.
CHRIS PAGE: We’ve got the tools! We’ve got the talent!
BAM STANTZ: It’s MILLER TIME!
Loud clasps of thunder followed by energy bolts fire off into the air as the voice of Cav then speaks out from seemingly nowhere.
CAV: Thousands of creatures and Groziers the destructor the traveler has come! Choose and perish!
CHRIS PAGE: What’s the douche rambling on and on about now?
CAV: CHOOSE THE DESTRUCTOR!
Fred breaks in.
FRED VENKMAN: I get it! I get it! Choose, he wants us to choose. So if we think about a wicked witch Cav then a wicked witch Cav will appear… Clear your mind, don’t think about anything! We got one shot at this and we can end it before it goes any further.
Suddenly the voice of Cav echoes out.
CAV: The choice is made! The traveler has come!
CHRIS PAGE: WHOA! WHOA! WHOA!
FRED VENKMAN: Nobody said anything, nobody thought anything!
Fred glances toward Chris.
FRED VENKMAN: Did you think anything?
CHRIS PAGE: No.
Fred looks over at Joe.
FRED VENKMAN: Did you?
JOE SPANGLER: No.
All heads turn toward Bam Stantz.
BAM STANTZ: I couldn’t help it… I cleared my mind and it just popped in there.
CHRIS PAGE: What Bam? What popped into your head?
BAM STANTZ: It’s the Stay Puft Marshmallow Cav.
____
John Cavanagh: See, a guy like me, a street kid from Hell’s Kitchen, I’ve been through the ringer man. I lived a life you could write a book on that molded me long before I stepped between the ropes. You? Does anybody even know? I mean, you’re the only schmuck on the IIW Website who doesn’t even have a biography…
Jesus Christ is this we’re at? So low on information to try and attack a bio? Who the fuck does that because SOMEONE hasn’t checked up on anything recently, it’s not shocking… I mean the dude doesn’t even follow the product he claims to want to lead. You should have probably doubled checked that statement before you made it.
I see a bio clear as day so I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about other than talking out of your ass yet again. Damn dude, this is like fighting an elementary school kid on the playground at lunch with the sheer dumb shit you’ve elected to take into this match to build it up. The harsh reality regardless of how much hot air you continue to blow out about shit that doesn’t matter in the IIW; or at least according to the political powers that huddle up stroking themselves because this IS the only place they’re going to find success. Ask Jonny, I mean he did get carried to a set of Homicide titles in a land far away. I’m sure you might be asking yourself why am I bringing that up when it has no merit in this contest? I’ve asked myself about ninety percent of the garbage you’ve hurled in my direction as well.
You’re reaching about as hard as you’re reaching trying to convince the world that you matter.
Jesus dude, it’s gotta suck to be you right about now.
How many times have your brought up podcasts, bud? What’s your obsession with my outside adventures? Jealous that YOU can’t cut the schedule I cut? Bitter that I have everything you want? Which is it? Because again it has no merit on this here and now. I appreciate you being a fan though, for someone that has SO much to say about them you’ve gotta be listening, so thank you.
____
John Cavanagh: You can sit there and say you extended an olive branch to me but what good is that? You want to say I shat on it, yeah you’re fucking right I did. In the world I came up in, the only reason to ever offer an olive branch was if it made sense from a business standpoint
FINALLY, he got something right!
Ladies and gentlemen, it only took him four hours of promo time to hit the nail on the head. I extended that olive branch for the betterment of the business. I put you over because NOBODY else will. Fuck man, I had to at least make you sound credible even if for just a quick second to score those extra buy rates; something you wouldn’t have the first damn concept of. I’m sure you’ve got your kliq patting you on the back trying to rally you one as you’ll no doubt REPEAT yourself yet again for your third package you’ll hold out on for the final hour because a bitch knows when she’s getting smacked.
The truth is it didn’t matter what you had to say or what levels you were trying to stoop to.
I am not emotionally invested in you.
There’s literally nothing you can say that will GIVE You credibility in my eyes, and if you ask YOU that since I am booking the shows, making the decisions, and all that other good shit you can do yourself a favor and stay at home because you’re ending up on your back either way; show up in Detroit it’s by my hands, stay at home it’s going to be by the priest representing your burrow like the good ole days. I could attack you on being an ex-con or whatever the fuck you want me to believe but as we’ve already CLEARLY established you’re a liar, so I bet that fabricated backstory is equally as punch-through able.
It’s just got nothing to do with here and now.
I’m sorry that you can’t accept the truth. That’s not my cross to bear, but what I can do is further exploit the truth when defeating you, and FINALLY give credibility to a division that you wouldn’t know how to carry if your life depended on it. If you’re trying to convince the world you’re a steaming ten pounds of shit in a five-pound bag we all knew that coming in, so the fact you felt the need to remind us YET AGAIN is because you need that justification, you need that validation, you crave that attention… the only problem… you’re literally the only one that gives a fuck. Well, maybe those political powers you rub shoulders with while feverishly trying to convince the world I hold the keys to the IIW kingdom… I mean, I am better than you but then again for a guy that’s been in the federation for 2 years I’d expect more than ELEVEN singles matches! I’ve been here seven months and am walking into my sixth straight win opposite you. But you care SO much about being the World Champion.
Get the fuck out here with crap.
Actions speak louder than any words my man, and your actions do not dictate you as a champ, John, they dictate you as a chump.
A poser.
A wannabe.
If you gave two shits about anything regarding the IIW you wouldn’t be in the shadows stroking your cock to everyone else and would have, I don’t know, do something about it before a title is put in the mix. You talk about what you’ve earned, how you deserve this…
I mean if I had to waste my time convincing the world I mattered… oh wait… I don’t. I just have to walk outside in the morning. According to the narrative, you’re feverishly trying to push means that Apathy hasn’t been a success in three other organizations, that Joe Montouri hasn’t been a World Champion in other organizations, that your own Jonny C isn’t being carried right now elsewhere as a tag champion, that Eoin O'Rourke hasn’t carved a reputation elsewhere… the day you wake up from the fantasy world where IIW is the only place open for business is the day that you will finally find the liberation you’re looking for. Until then, crawl back under whatever rock you’ve crawled out from under and work on wrestling another eleven matches out of forty-eight shows.
Do the math.
JOE SPANGLER: Oh no.
FRED VENKMAN: Mother of God.
The massive sixty-story Stay Puft Marshmellow Man’s face transforms into that of John Cavanagh as he lets out a primal scream like a man that’s just failed to kick out of a German Suplex. The ground rumbles under the weight of his ego as Chris states.
CHRIS PAGE: Light him up!
The Ghostbusters are on the ready as they all four have their proton pack triggers in hand. They fire up the packs and unload upon Stay Puft Marshmallow Cav causing him to bust into flames in the areas across his massive body the rays of energy strike. Stay Puft Marshmallow Cav is driven back several feet before powering through the attack where he smashes his arms into the top of the Velvet Rabbit nearly caving in the entire roof.
The Ghostbusters back themselves up and out of harm’s way when Joe speaks up as he shifts his attention toward the vortex at the top of the stairs.
BAM STANTZ: Funny us going out like this. I would have expected it to be more climatic, but instead killed by a hundred-foot marshmallow man.
FRED VENKAMN: We’ve been going about this all wrong, this Mr. Marshmallow Man is an okay guy, he’s a sailor, he’s in New York, we get this guy the spotlight and attention he craves we won’t have any trouble.
The scene cuts to Stay Puft Marshmallow Cav climbing up the side of the Velvet Rabbit while the people below react shockingly to what’s unfolding in front of their eyes. Joe Spangler then states.
JOE SPANGLER: I have a radical idea.
All heads turn toward him.
JOE SPANGLER: The door to the vortex swings both ways we could reverse the particle through the gate.
Chris lashes out.
CHRIS PAGE: Look at the big brain on Joe!
Fred asks.
FRED VENKMAN: How?
JOE SPANGLER: We’ll cross the streams.
Bam immediately responds.
BAM STANTZ: Excuse me but I thought you said crossing the streams was bad.
Reluctantly Fred states.
FRED VENKMAN: Cross the streams…
BAM STANTZ: You’re going to endanger us…
Chris brings in some sarcasm.
CHRIS PAGE: Uh in case you haven’t noticed we’re already in some pretty serious danger.
BAM STANTZ: You’re going to endanger Chris’s wife, the nice lady before she became a dog.
Joe responds.
JOE SPANGLER: There’s definitely a very slim chance of survival.
The four men glance around at each other for several seconds before Chris breaks the silence.
CHRIS PAGE: I love this plan, and I’m excited to be a part of it. Let’s do it!
The Ghostbusters emerge from their huddle and take their positions at the bottom of the stairs while in the background Stay Puft Marshmellow Cav starts to rear his fat, ugly head over the top of the Velvet Rabbit.
FRED VENKMAN: See ya on the other side, Bam.
Fred shoots his proton ray at the vortex.
BAM STANTZ: It’s been an honor working with you.
Bam responds as he fires his ray into the vortex. Fred and Ray cross the streams intertwining them before Joe Spangler fires his ray into the vortex and crosses his stream with Fred and Bam’s. Chris Page turns around flipping off Stay Puft Marshmallow Cav before turning his attention toward the vortex…
Chris crosses his stream with Fred, Bam, and Joe’s shooting it into the vortex just as Stay Puft Marshmallow Man’s full head and upper body are climbing up on the roof. It sends a massive explosion of energy out from the vortex as the Ghostbusters dive out of the way in any direction! The energy causes Stay Puft Marshmallow Cav to spontaneously combust as he explodes sending a heavy rain of warm, gooey marshmallows covering the top of the Velvet Rabbit and down onto the streets of Manhattan.
The smoke clears and the dust settles to see the top of the Velvet Rabbit completely covered in white. There are no signs of life until we hear some growling followed by some movement within the white topping. A body starts sitting up followed by another one a few feet away. He wipes the marshmallow away from his face to reveal Chris Page and the man next to him is Fred Venkman.
CHRIS PAGE: Are you okay?
Fred responds.
FRED VENKMAN: Yeah, you?
CHRIS PAGE: I think so…
They start to get up when they each start calling out for the others.
CHRIS PAGE: BAM!
FRED VENKMAN: JOE!
Some more groaning can be heard off in the distance on the rooftop. Chris and Fred dart over as Bam is whipping the marshmallows from his face. Fred and Chris help him up before finally coming across Joe.
All of them are covered in white melted marshmallows as Fred states.
FRED VENKMAN: We did it! We did it!
BAM STANTZ: I can’t believe it!
JOE SPANGLER: Teamwork makes the dream work.
Chris kneels down running his hand across the melted marshmallow as his attention is diverted elsewhere.
BAM STANTZ: What’s that smell?
Bam sniffs the air around him as Chris stands back up.
BAM STANTZ: It smells like a burnt dog.
With a quickness Bam suddenly realizes… Candice. His attention swiftly directs toward Chris.
BAM STANTZ: Chris I’m sorry man, I totally forgot.
Joe then asks.
JOE SPANGLER: Does this mean I’m never getting into the Empire Room?
Fred smacks Joe in the back of the head while Chris looks up the stairs at what appears to be a burnt-in-place dog creature. A tear starts to accumulate under his left eye and roll down the side of his cheek. Fred and Bam each put a hand on each of Chris’s shoulders.
CHRIS PAGE: She would have sacrificed herself if it meant restoring order to the City. She was a badass like that.
Before Chris can go any further the front paw of the dog creature starts to twitch before a finger breaks through followed by the remaining three! Chris and the Ghostbusters rush up the stairs where he frantically starts beating down on the paw of the creature breaking it off and exposing the arm of Candice. The rest of the team starts pounding on other portions of the statuesque dog creature with various pieces crumbling and allowing Chris to break the head of the statue down the center.
Fred removes one side as Bam removes the other revealing…
The Ghostbusters help Candice out of the remaining statue while Chris supports her.
CANDICE WOLF-PAGE: Wha… What happened?
CHRIS PAGE: Don’t worry about any of that right now just know you’re safe.
Chris kisses Candice atop the Velvet Rabbit while in the background Fred screams out for all to hear.
FRED VENKMAN: I LOVE THIS TOWN!!!
[youtube src]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fe93CLbHjxQ[/youtube]
“Ghostbusters” starts to play as the credits start to roll.
CAST:
Chris Page … Himself
Candice Wolf-Page … Herself
Fred Venkman/Fred Debonair … Fred Debonair
Bam Stantz/Bam Miller … Bam Miller
Joe Spangler/Joe Montouri … Joe Montouri
Shaun Lennie … Shaun Hart
Janine … Annie Potts
William Osh … Scott Carl Rechsteiner
Anything Cav Related … Troy Martin
Lonnie Crybaby … Tyson Smith
Justin York … Samuel Elliot Guevara
Stacey York … Taynara Melo
Supporting Cast … Brian Christopher Button
Smash … Leati Joseph Anoaʻi
Death … Chuck De Nomolos
Rufus … CGI George Carlin
©2022 CCPE Productions Directed and Produced by Chris Page
The house lights draw up revealing a jam-packed theatre giving a standing ovation! The clapping, hooting, and hollering continue on before the audience starts standing directing their attention to a luxury box where Chris Page and Candice Wolf-Page can be found sitting with smiles on their faces. Candice nudges Chris encouraging him to stand up.
Upon standing the cheering and clapping only gets louder!
You’d think we’ve just finished viewing The Whale, or something.
Chris places his hands together taking a bow before waving at the sold-out house. Chris reaches down taking Candice by the hand and helps her get out of her comfy chair within the suit. He holds her tight. Candice leans up and whispers into Chris’s ear.
CANDICE WOLF-PAGE: Look who’s in the front row?
Chris looks over to where Candice is at the point to see someone sneaking out of the theater which brings a smirk to Chris’s face.
CANDICE WOLF-PAGE: This is going to make the media scrum a lot more interesting.
CHRIS PAGE: I knew he was a fanboy.
Candice leads Chris out of the suit where they’re surrounded by security as they are escorted to a private elevator and whisked away to the post-premiere media scrum.
CANDICE WOLF-PAGE: How did you think your directorial debut turned out?
Candice asks as she squeezes the hand of Chris before adjusting his black bowtie.
CHRIS PAGE: I mean it’s hard not to call it a success when dumb fucks buy into it.
Right, Cav?
CHRIS PAGE: This has been the easiest two weeks of my life… but I knew that coming in. The IIW is mine for the taking.
CANDICE WOLF-PAGE: I’ve seen some pretty dumb fuckers in my life, but the guy they’ve put up against you takes the cake.
Chris responds.
CHRIS PAGE: Cav?
CANDICE WOLF-PAGE: Who else would I be talking about?
She asks.
CHRIS PAGE: I mean it’s not like intelligence seems to be a strong suit with most in the IIW, to begin with, but when it comes to talking to hear yourself talk he does take things to a completely different level.
It baffles my mind just how low-grade Cav has turned out to be. Ya know, I heard rumors about “how close” this one is supposed to be. It makes me laugh to think that Osh is sitting back watching these promotional packages and listening to the blatant lies that have spewed out of your mouth about not only me; let’s face it, it’s not the first time guys have failed miserably when gunning for me but the lack of attention you’ve paid to your own product. Hey, I get sticking up for one of the few places you’ve competed in, I get getting pissed off for losing your spots to the higher caliber and more talented individuals, and I can even sympathize with you not being able to kick out of a german suplex… but I can’t have you disparage the name and record of Crush.
Fuck Johnny for a moment, let me talk to you Osh.
Your boy is dumb enough to literally accuse me of booking your programs, has no concept of the real world, and leaves me shrugging my shoulders with the amount of sewage he’s elected to spew. If you want me to put him over it’s going to cost ya triple because that dude is not only an embarrassment to the sport he’s an embarrassment to you and the IIW. If that’s what it takes for someone like that to feel remotely important I feel sorry for him but I also feel sorry for you because you employ him.
Thankfully for you, I’m here to save you from that.
You can’t fix stupid, boss… but I can fix your company.
It starts when I continue my path of dominance and destruction, so you can finally take a fresh breath knowing that your company is about to be in very good hands. I cannot allow the dumbest kid on the short bus to leave with your title; and since I apparently run your show, I book your matches, I dictate everything that goes on while not only you’ve been on vacation but well before that as well we can go ahead and call a spoiler.
AND NEW IIW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION… Chris Page.
At least you’ll have a guy on the top of the heap that has more intelligence than that mutt coming out of Hell’s Kitchen… but hey man, you are the same guy that didn’t take your decade-plus company until earlier this year.
We reopen inside the Empire Room at the Velvet Rabbit where a post-movie premiere media scrum is set up as we see a stage elevated about five feet off the floor where a CCPE backdrop can be seen with a table that has a black shirt. There’s a microphone resting in front of a single chair that displays a nameplate reading “Chris Page.”
A huge round of applause can be heard before appearing on the stage is the man himself.
Chris acknowledges the response as he walks to the end of the stage. He calls for the cameraman’s camera where he hoists it on his shoulder spinning it around on the jam-packed Empire Room showing the sea of reporters from various media outlets, recorders in hands pointed in the direction of the stage. Chris takes the camera off his shoulder spinning it around where he kisses the lens before passing it back down to the cameraman. Chris walks around the table where he takes his seat. He grabs the microphone and leans back into the back of the chair as the room starts to quiet down.
CHRIS PAGE: I’m going to make a brief statement before opening things up for questions.
You can hear the sounds of the cameras snapping off various pictures.
CHRIS PAGE: First I want to thank you all for attending this media scrum following the premiere of my first full-length feature film, the remake of the epic Ghostbusters. Secondly, I hope you enjoyed the film because it was a lot of fun to produce and direct. First question.
Chris points out to one of the reporters.
“Hey, Chris, just curious what was the motivation for the remake of such a cult classic?”
Chris responds.
CHRIS PAGE: There is a lot about the film that drove me to write, direct, and produce it. The film itself is a metaphorical piece that I drew the inspiration from while dealing with the World Title debacle that is occupying Intense International Wrestling while poking fun at the little boy that will be sharing the ring with me Sunday Night in Detroit.
“Can you elaborate?”
CHRIS PAGE: Not really.
____
John Cavanagh: Let me ask you something though, maybe you can help me out in my other line of work actually. Who the fuck is your weedman? Who is the guy who sells you these fire flowers that makes it so that you have such funky ass dream scenarios man? your shit must be from another dimension to get you as high as you need to be to concoct your little Ghostbusters fantasies. I mean, I guess you would probably think I should feel honored. Yeah, that’s it, maybe this is your pathetic attempt at gassing me up before our match so that I think you’re sweet. You’ve got Johnnie Cav all on your mind like a virgin looking at their date on prom night.
Man, you gotta feel like the TRUE dumb fuck within this equation. What drugs? What dream scenarios? Ghostbusters fantasies? Is Cav on the mind? Bro, I know you grew up in Hell’s Kitchen, and with all your homoerotic insinuations over the last week or so, are you sure you weren’t touched as a child? It’s not the first time a Catholic Priest played hide the salami with his altar boys.
… or maybe I was just releasing a CCPE Productions feature film.
Better question…
Get ready boys and girls because there is how you effectively bury some chode that thinks he’s smarter and better than yours truly.
You ready?
How would you know about my movie? The credits just rolled. Are you trying to tell me that was YOU I saw sneaking out of the theatre? YOU had to be there. Makes you rethink that the next time you want to comment on someone else’s promotional material, but then again you’ve said and done a lot of dumb shit over the last several weeks but this one is the final nail in the coffin of dumbest of the dumb.
CHRIS PAGE: Next question.
Chris points to someone else in the crowd of reporters.
“Did you know Ghostbuster was going to be the first feature CCPE would finance and produce, or if not what sealed it?”
CHRIS PAGE: I mean who didn’t grow up loving the Ghostbuster? I mean clearly, my opponent thought it was a flattering thing while believing I was taking him on a drug trip when instead he spoke on a movie as it was premiering.
CHRIS PAGE: If that doesn’t tell you who the fans are nothing will. Next question, you over there.
“It was pretty clear some shots were being taken at the IIW roster which leads me to ask how you cast the film?”
CHRIS PAGE: Everyone has a doppelganger, I found theirs. When it comes to taking shots at the roster that’s kind of my job. I’m not here to be liked, I’m not here to be respected, I’m here to win… it’s something that I do frequently, and something that I’ll do when I grace the squared circle this Sunday Night. Truth is, while I should be focusing on John Cavanagh he’s shown me that Pinocchio ain’t got nothin’ on him. Verbally sparing with him wasn’t challenging, so if I’m being honest I was bored and needed something tangible to do with my time.
Chris pauses for a moment before he continues on.
CHRIS PAGE: And let’s face it, that was a damn good remake.
I could have spoken to you all from something as original as a bar, I could have gone all out and spoken to you in front of a lake… but I gave you the entertainment value everyone needed after being put to sleep by Cav. The harsh truth when it comes to Cav is he’s just a bitter victim of circumstances when it comes to Red Alert, and while it’s been very fun establishing dominance the time for talking is rapidly coming to an end… most of you are probably ecstatic while I’ve given you quality and quantity leaving Cav is the dust a long, long time ago. Most might ask, why continue to drive the nails further and further into the coffin when it’s painfully obvious you’re dealing with an amateur that’s way over their head?
I’ll yell ya.
To make an example out of.
At times you have to prove the point. Now, I don’t give a fuck what he does after this match because it’s the only time I’ll have to deal with him for the foreseeable future. After all, he will disappear while I continue to lead you into the new era. The old guard that carried the flag here in the past aren’t here to tickle your taints, and if they were they’d be sucking on my nuts too.
CHRIS PAGE: Next question.
“When can we expect to see Ghostbusters being released nationwide?”
Chris starts to laugh into the microphone for several seconds before he composes himself.
CHRIS PAGE: Oh you thought I was playing when I said I made this film because I was bored? There’s not a full theatrical release, tonight was the only showing… because it was the only one I needed to lure an immature child out to play.
“You’re seriously not going to release it?”
CHRIS PAGE: Who knows.
There’s a pause from Page before he continues.
CHRIS PAGE: I just hope my biggest fan ole John Cavanagh enjoyed it. I know I did.
Chris blows a kiss at the camera and follows it up with a wink.
CHRIS PAGE: Next question.
“Hey Chris, I was just wondering with Red Alert coming up on Sunday and this being the first time in almost two years that you’ve even bothered to challenge for any major Championship, what’s running through your mind, and if this opponent you want to be in the ring with?”
CHRIS PAGE: Let’s answer the first part of the question first because you’re absolutely right when you talk about it being two years in January since I’ve been on top as a World or Universal Champion, and truth be told I have my reasons, the primary reason was once I claimed the XWF Universal Championship that was the last top title that I had challenged for but never won. My goals shifted, my priorities shifted away from being the top guy in ONE promotion to being the top guy in EVERY promotion.
Chris pauses briefly before continuing.
CHRIS PAGE: I had to break the news to everyone out there that is living in their own dream world but there’s only a handful of us that can go tour federation to federation and find the levels of success I have found, but my quest to establish my dominance wasn’t ever motivated by Championships it was fueled by shutting the mouths of all the haters; look, it’s not like I couldn’t have stood on top of the federations but what drove me was slapping the piss out of whatever homegrown they threw at me… and I did that in spades. I would tell Cav to go ask Denzel Porter but he probably has no fucking concept of who that is either.
There is a lot of mild laughter heard coming from the reporters before Chris continues.
CHRIS PAGE: In regards to the second part of that question about the opponent; I think it’s pretty safe to say that John's last name should be Doe over Cavanagh because nobody would be able to point and laugh at him. Look, he cries about losing the Elimination Chamber blaming Shaun Hart when all the douche had to do was roll a shoulder up off the mat, fucking lame. I can’t begin to tell you how many falsehoods have shot out of his mouth, and for what? Because he had NOTHING in the tank when it comes to dealing with me.
Everyone can try, and few of you will win.
I have nailed Cavanagh to the cross with his whoppers, and it’s not like Crush is learning his lesson either going off what I’ve seen him produce opposite Fred over the last week or so which takes me back around to the people that book this shit; why is this acceptable? You guys do understand this is the kind of ignorance you don’t want anywhere near the top of your organization, right? Ah, is talking logic what Cav considers playing politics? Well nutsack, at least I have the ball to do it in public then hiding behind that curtain circling up with the very people you claim to hate. Two people CAN play that game… I just choose not to while you’ve allowed yourself to get sucked into the game I wanted you to play, I mean for fucks sake you spoke on my movie THINKING it was real, and you spoke on the drug trip THINKING it was real. If I drew you in that easily with something so stupid as a parody of Ghostbusters the last thing you are is the smartest kid in the fucking room.
CHRIS PAGE: Now I’m not going to waste your time rehashing your recounting events because that’s something John’s done since the beginning of this party and that’s more his speed, instead I’m just going to show up in Detroit and smack him around like the redheaded stepchild just like this company has done for years. Do I wish it was someone else, anyone else? Sure, and before he continues to try to plagiarize me let me break it down a little further. John is like the dingleberry of the profession. He hides in the crevices of the asshairs of the business but eventually, that right piece of toilet paper comes along and snatches him out of the tangled hairs he’s woven before flushing it down the toilet. I say that to say I’ve plucked the dingleberry from my ass and at Red Alert I’m going to flush it in front of the world. Next question.
“Any thoughts on being labeled as a loser or that CCPE is a group of losers.”
Chris rolls his eyes.
CHRIS PAGE: Next question.
“Is there any truth to you cutting back on touring all the markets with different organizations?”
CHRIS PAGE: That is absolutely true. I’ve spent the last year or so smacking around the best of the best- Undefeated in Fight NYC, worked on top in Action Wrestling, Sin City Wrestling, UGWC, Level Up, Uprising, 5BW, and countless supershows booked by various companies or people in the wrestling business; conveniently for a man that’s allegedly as well known as Cav nobody has seen or heard him in any of those places; which mind you, ARE OPEN, I digress. When you’ve been everywhere and done everything, worked with just about everyone you want to work with there comes a time when you put on the brakes. That time is now. My reputation in the wrestling industry is stronger than Oak, and I knew that it was just a matter of time before I’d be snagging the IIW World Title.
Chris reaches down beside him pulling up a bottle of water. He opens and takes a drink before placing it on the table.
CHRIS PAGE: After knocking off Ben Jordan and knowing this opportunity would be coming my way I wanted to create enough buzz that when the news breaks that Chris Page is the IIW World Champion the flood gates will open, and I will be bombarded by REAL talents that actually give a fuck about what they’re doing versus some stupid kids that have no concept on how the business works. It’s all their fault for living such “sheltered lives” being surrounded by the same people for years or decades WILL give you a false sense of reality that you’re good; the problem with that logic is that you’re not getting any better working with the same people; I don’t a fuck what your stance is on that, but if you think wrestling the same guys repeatedly gets you anything but complacency then why don’t you take a look at IIW before March 1st of this year!
Chris gazes toward the reporter as he continues.
CHRIS PAGE: The problem is pretty fucking simple to rectify and we’re going to be doing that in just a few days, but it doesn’t negate the truth, and the truth fucking hurts some people, I don’t regret pointing out the flaws of the company because they’re CORRECTABLE, I don’t mind embarrassing the talentless hacks that occupy the roster because they do it to themselves when they tie their boots. Now we’re past apologies, these grown fucking men need to start acting like grown men or they can get the hell out of the way and let people that give a flying fuck about the success or failure of this swimming pool that you CLAIM to enjoy so much yet sit on the sidelines watching, waiting, pretending to be injured…
I didn’t know John Cav was our version of Thunder Rosa; now you’ll have to forgive me because I don’t usually drop “wrestler names” in my promotional packages but since my counterpart saw fit to break that barrier in his first video of the series that glass ceiling is broken. Maybe when we see Cav this isn’t what we see…
Maybe it’s this...
Fuck man, I gotta go change the credits.
CHRIS PAGE: He can make and blame whoever he wants about being the freshest man in a Chamber but not kicking out of that German, he can bring names up of people that aren’t employed by this company, he can label me as a politician, he can try to talk about CCPE like he knows the first thing about it, he can insinuate that I am booking the programs, he can claim he’s beaten Crush, but he can’t mask the insecurities that rest with him wanting to be ME. I have everything he claims to despise; the money, the wife, six houses across the globe, my own organization that’s kicking off a week after I take this title, but above all else the notoriety of being looked at and labeled as one of if not THE best piece of talent in the business right now… Keep in mind I’m doing this shit at fifty-two years old; an old man dishing out the devastation of this magnitude I don’t have to play the attack his world and you attack his game, I’m better than that, what are you?? Twelve or something?
I am not going to pretend that this has been a challenge, it’s been… well, it’s just been; how about that? The weeks leading up to this event, how many times the match changed, all the fallout from the Chamber the ONE thing that I just knew wasn’t going to disappoint me was Cav… until I watched his promos. Now, I won’t lie… I cut off the second one halfway through the moment he started quoting the same shit from the previous, the same shit from the tags, the same shit from the Chamber because when you’ve heard it once you've heard it a million times. Never in a million years did I think this dude would be dumb enough to start commenting on my shit until it was a finished product.
The moment he mentioned my film in number two I screamed out-
YOU STUPID FUCKING IDIOT!
You built your defense based on lies, and as each grew they all started to crumble like a house of cards. Well, there’s always next time for you, bud. The taste of defeat while choking under this kind of pressure seems to be more your thing anyway so you might as well live that gimmick.
CHRIS PAGE: The least he could have done was a halfway decent job but even trying to be clever he fucked that up too. Like, I almost want to pull him aside and say, dude, you’re just not that good; and listen, I get it if you think you were top shit or reached the top of organizations before you want to be recognized for that… but those federations need to be open to back your fucking play! Do I need to drop him links that we won’t check because it will shatter his entire narrative- because I can. Nah, let the ignorant remain ignorant while I will rise to the top of the IIW. This is the moment this federation has been waiting on for a very long time; credibility to the belt, credibility to the federation, and I can’t think of a better place to win number nineteen than in my backyard of Detroit. Ford Field is going to be jam-packed to the rafters; you’re welcome, and CCPE, the so-called “losers” of everything professional wrestling are going to be occupying four of your top five attractions for this card, and I hate to break it to you, but we are leaving with the World Title, the International Title, and the United Kingdom Title to put alongside our Tag Team Titles… but don’t mind us, we’re losers, pfft. Last question.
“If it’s the last question I wanted to get any last statements to your opponent for Red Alert?”
CHRIS PAGE: Do you know his name?
“Not gunna lie, I don’t.”
CHRIS PAGE: Don’t worry, apparently, you’re not the only one… but yeah, I guess my final words would be something like…You’re only as good as your last match… how did yours pan out?
There’s a pause from Chris before he closes out the scrum.
CHRIS PAGE: Thank you. Enjoy the evening.
… remember, it wasn’t how you started… but how you finish.
____________________
... this is where you leave your jaw on the floor because I am leaving this conversation.
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Post by The Celtic Club on Sept 16, 2022 22:57:15 GMT
City of Gods, Part III
Unknown Alleyway
Friday night, September 9th
Somewhere in New York CityThe sound of a train running across the tracks can be heard off in the distance. Smoke plumed upwards from a manhole cover and the yellow light of the street lamp shed a bit of light upon the back alleyway. On either side fire escapes could be seen climbing the edifices leading to the apartments above. A man with a large nose stepped out from a door, above the door a small banner read “Abruzzo’s”. This was the legitimate business of one Vincent “Vinny No Nose” Abruzzo. Vinny lit a cigarette as he waited, as if he knew something was going to happen. Vinny walked across the alleyway and rested upon a black Mercedes.
Vinny Abruzzo: Fucking shame when somebody goes like that. Over what? A stitch of pussy? John Cavanagh: The things people do when it comes to these females, man. You can never tell what is going to happen.
Vinny Abruzzo: Especially when it’s some fat fuck like Cris Pags that is getting angry. Little baby, I swear.John Cavanagh: Hey, I didn’t give him a button.
Vinny rolled his eyes. Vinny was one of the younger Capos in the family at only forty-nine years of age he was practically a baby when it came to the administration of a Cosa Nostra family. He had served as acting boss for a period when their Godfather found himself a guest of the Federal Government. Vinny did a good job and due to that he has slowly grown in power and presence within the Genovese Family. Vinny was a West Side kid, the family he found himself a member of was often referred to as “The West Side” by the other four families. It was clear that this family and the traditional Irish criminal element had plenty of connections throughout the decades to the point where many times members of the Irish Mob were identified as Associates of the Genovese Family by law enforcement. Vinny Abruzzo: Fucking Giuseppe! I love him like he was my father but sometimes he’ a little lax when it comes to giving out buttons to the sons of made guys.
John Cavanagh: Can’t blame the guy, it ain’t like the talent pool you’ve got to recruit from is expanding.
Vinny nodded his head, he knew that John was correct. La Cosa Nostra had always had the golden rule: an Associate could only become a made guy, or get his button, if they were full blooded Italian. Finding a full blooded Italian was easier than a full blooded Irishman but the Irish never had any real structure or rules to their organization–that’s how John had an enforcer running the neighborhood who was Puerto Rican.
Vinny Abruzzo: Maybe one day the Commission will see that we need to change with the times, or Our Thing, it ain’t gonna last forever.
John Cavanagh: I’m sure the Feds would love that.Vinny laughed. The Federal Bureau of Investigation had attempted to employ the RICO statute against The Commission and basically every Mafia family in the country to the point that many had now become defunct or a glorified crew that was paying a bigger family like the Kansas City Mob with the Chicago Outfit.
Vinny Abruzzo: I mean, if we don’t do it to ourselves, they will keep coming, right?John nodded his head. He knew that The Life he shared with Vinny wasn’t an easy one. Anyone with even the most basic level of intelligence knew that each breath you took could be your last. Between the law, rivals, friends in disguise and your own demons…the life expectancy for one of these street hoods wasn’t a long one.
John Cavanagh: I mean, I could help you lighten the load a bit.
Vinny’s eyebrow shot up, he wasn’t expecting John to be so blunt and to the point. He knew that there was now a serious, and reasonable, beef between Johnnie Cav’s West Side Crew and Cristoforo “Pags” Pagliarulo out on Long Island. Vinny had hoped that he could keep the situation from boiling over. John’s temper was well known amongst anyone who had ever interacted with him, the thing was, Vinny was hoping to avoid bloodshed on this one.
Vinny Abruzzo: Johnnie, I don’t think that can happen this time.John Cavanagh: You don’t think? I’m pretty sure I know how to make shit like that happen.Vinny Abruzzo: Yeah, but, you know, business. Plus, his Pops is respected. Ya gotta give it a pass, Johnnie.Cavanagh raised his hand up to his mouth and rubbed his face. He looked off to the side as if there was someone speaking to him from the shadows of the alley. John turned his attention back to Vinny, his eyes staring lasers through Vinny.
John Cavanagh: That’s not exactly what I was expecting. Fucking shame too, your thing, my thing, we been co-existing for quite some time. Be a bitch to throw all that away, ya know?Vinny’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. Was John Cavanagh threatening war with an Italian Mafia family? Was the barely in tact West Side Irish Mob trying to start a war with the strongest of New York’s families? No way, he thought to himself.
Vinny Abruzzo: John, all due respect, do you really think youse got a shot at winning that?
John Cavanagh: You’ve got shooters, I’ve got shooters. You’ve got a lot of earners and a lot of people that pretend to be Billy Bad Ass, like Pags. Yeah, I probably won’t win, but, have you ever met an Irishman?John paused for a moment allowing Vinny to take in the question and formulate his response. Vinny placed his hands in his pocket and nodded his head up and down.
Vinny Abruzzo: Yeah, a few of you pricks and each one of you seem to be more stubborn than the last one.
John Cavanagh: Hey, all due respect, when we know we’re right, we’re right. Paddy was one of mine, Paddy was a year younger than me in school. Him, me and my brother, the rest of my guys, we all go way back. How would you feel if someone wet up your buddy Frankie.
Vinny’s eyes shot towards John with serious intent. Frankie Mancuso, Vinny’s right hand man who was also married to Vinny’s sister, that wasn’t funny as far as Vinny was concerned.Vinny Abruzzo: Ohhhhh! What the fuck is that!?John Cavanagh: I don’t mean us, I mean a hypothetical. How would you be feeling if you got told no.Vinny Abruzzo: This is different, Paddy ain’t a made guy. The family wouldn’t let that go, you know that.
John Cavanagh: And you think we don’t feel the same way?
Vinny Abruzzo: I’m sure you do. Rules state it doesn’t matter how you fucking feel though. Other thing is, I had to already hear from you know who about how you and some biker fuck trashed Pags’ bar? Roughed up two of his guys…broke a guard’s jaw and nose? What the fuck Johnnie?!
Johnnie shrugged his shoulders and tossed his head to the sky.
John Cavanagh: He said we couldn’t leave, what the fuck you want from me? Survival mode. Us Hell’s Kitchen boys have been stuck in survival mode since the Feds flipped Featherstone and took down Jimmy C in the 80s.Vinny nodded his head, he completely understood where Cavanagh was coming from. If Vinny was in his shoes he knew that he would be out for blood as well, the problem was that Vinny wasn’t in the same shoes as Johnnie Cav. Vinny was in an entirely different world. John and his boys had to watch the local police and state police patrolling around the few establishments and rackets they had left. Vinny still had the FBI in front of his social club and wiretaps on his phone.
Vinny Abruzzo: You gotta understand Johnnie, it ain’t right for me to tell someone from outside the family that they have my blessing on a beef like this. You guys trashed his dad’s club, his dad could be asking “Il Padrino” for permission to make you disappear if he wanted to…
John Cavanagh: Tell the old geezer I’ll be waiting for him. Or I’ll just go down to Tampa and straighten the old timer out myself.
Vinny Abruzzo: He’s not…he knows it was probably his loudmouth kid that started it. It’s a miracle how well people know their own kids. From what I heard Pags told him the attack was “completely unprovoked”, his father knows that’s bullshit. If it was just the Pagan guy maybe he feels differently but we all know you got a reputation for using that famous temper of yours when it’s needed, and not on a whim.
John Cavanagh: Then you gotta let me do this…
Vinny reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced a pack of cigarettes, he placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. The stress was visibly mounting on Vinny’s face. He knew Cristoforo was a pain in the ass, always causing issues. He also knew that Cristoforo’s father went far back with The Godfather of the Genovese Family making this an extra complicated matter. He also knew that his crew made a lot of money with the Cavanagh crew from Hell’s Kitchen–what was best for business?
Vinny Abruzzo: I’m fucked regardless of what decision gets made here. I let you wet him up, I’m going against the family and a respected member at that. I tell you no, you’re walking out of here a hotheaded mick that might short circuit.
John Cavanagh: And you know damn well that last situation ain’t good for nobody in this City.
Vinny Abruzzo: Tell me about it, you micks put the Russians to shame from time to time.
Vinny took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke from his nostrils. He stood there for a few moments while he kicked the options around in his head. He didn’t like any of the outcomes he was coming up with. He thought that maybe he could get John to make reparations to Cristoforo and his father over the club…then he realized there was no way John was going to give in. Maybe Cristoforo will make reparations? No, that sets a bad precedent for future issues. Let one whack out the other one? Problems with the borgata or problems with cash flow…it was a real damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation and Vinny wasn’t enjoying it. John Cavanagh: Look, we’ve got a lot going on down on the docks, right?
Vinny nodded.John Cavanagh: And last I checked Spanish and Fitzy have been doing a better job at making your collections than your own guys, no?
Vinny nodded again as he took another drag from his cigarette. The cherry glistening in the dim of the alleyway, briefly lighting his face, his eyes looked away and he began to speak.Vinny Abruzzo: You saying, what I think you’re saying?John Cavanagh: I hope I don’t have to do what you think I’m saying. We all gotta eat one way or another, no?The two hardened New York City hoods stared at each other. Money was the lifeline of La Cosa Nostra, and the majority of criminal enterprises for that matter, Vinny wasn’t liking the idea of not being able to have his money collected in Hell’s Kitchen, he wasn’t liking finding out that the contents of a container or two might be missing from the docks. Maybe the Irish weren’t a threat on a gun for gun basis, but when it came to making headaches the Irish from Hell’s Kitchen were infamous in New York mob lore. Was that a slippery slope that Vinny wanted to travel? Vinny took another drag and flicked his cigarette.
Vinny Abruzzo: Let me think about this and talk to “Il Padrino”. I’ll have somebody give your guys at the Gym a call after I have a sitdown about this.
John shook his head. As far as he was concerned this was an open and shut case. This was like a homicide detective finding you with a smoking gun, blood stained shirt and standing over your victim. This is about as obvious as the Elimination Chamber Screwjob–there shouldn’t be a conversation, just a head nod.
John Cavanagh: I guess I’ll let you two goombahs sit down over linguine or whatever the hell it is you guys like to eat. Just make it quick.
Vinny Abruzzo: You rushing me?John Cavanagh: I’ve got a few blood thirsty guys sitting around the Gym and the Blarney Stone, I’m not sure how long I can keep the floodgates from pouring over.
John turned his back to Vinny and began to walk back to his Impala. As John disappeared from the camera Vinny shook his head and grabbed another cigarette from his jacket. Vinny took a deep breath as the car engine was heard roaring to life. The headlights illuminated the alleyway before slowing tailing away.
Vinny Abruzzo: I can never fucking win in this life. I should have been a fucking banker.
Vinny stood there, leaning against his Mercedes as the scene momentarily cut to static.Kline’s Gym
Saturday afternoon September 10th
Hell’s Kitchen, New York
The scene reopened on one of our friendly combines. Kline’s Gym, the gym where John and his brother had learned how to train for combat sports, the gym where Andy Donahue ran around as a young child busting people’s balls, the gym that was “Old Man” Jimmy Kline’s bookie trail until he passed away in his sleep a few years ago. One of the few neighborhood guys who could say they started during the “heyday” of organized crime in New York City, through the violence of The Westies all the way up to the new millenium. It was a rarity for sure but some of the crooks had to get the last laugh on the law in the end.
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 ![]() ![]() ![]()  John Cavanagh: To all of the parents that are watching at this very moment, please, make sure to not accept Chris Page’s invitation for your child to Neverland Ranch. I heard he likes to play hide the sausage with the wee ones. OK, maybe that was going a little too far, I’m sure Osh is gonna fine me for scaring off some kind of advertisement income and all that shit, but, I ain’t here for that. Johnnie Cav is only here for that World Championship because any other promotion’s championship, whether I’ve held or not, just don’t quite the cut the cake once you came as close as I did to that beautiful belt. And ya know what? When I pin you, or choke you out if you push all of the wrong buttons, I’m going to take that championship belt and get my ass back to Hell’s Kitchen and we gonna party the goddamn night away at The Blarney Stone. It’s just a shame that you’re not cool enough to kick it with the cool kids, schmuck. We all saw the live footage of you after you had a few White Claws at your Tag Team Championship Bash.
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Sunday evening, September 11th
Little Italy, New YorkThe scene cut to an exquisite looking Italian restaurant, the interior was packed to the brim with patrons looking to get a taste of one of the establishment’s famous dishes, or tourists looking to get a look at one of the many underworld figures who visited this specific restaurant. Abruzzo’s was owned by Vinny Abruzzo and was constantly under surveillance from law enforcement. Many nights you could see a who’s who of New York City’s “traditional” organized crime elements, as the FBI called La Cosa Nostra.![]()
Vinny Abruzzo: Look at this, Johnnie, this place is busting at the seams, who woulda thought?John Cavanagh: I’ll be honest, not a big fan of the Italian cuisine but you guys make one hell of a chicken parmigiana.
Vinny Abruzzo: Of course you order chicken parmigiana, just like a mick. Surprised you don’t want Gnocchi on the side.
John looked puzzled, it was clear he wasn’t well versed in Abruzzo’s menu. Unlike the majority of people that Vinny interacted with, John wasn’t afraid to hide it.
John Cavanagh: What the fuck is Gnocchi?Vinny began to chuckle under his breath as he took another drag off of his cigarette.Vinny Abruzzo: Really? It’s potato pasta ya fuckin’ potato.
John Cavanagh: I’d rather be a spud than a piece of spaghetti. Spud got some nutrition in it, pasta is just empty carbs.Vinny Abruzzo: What have you been doing? Studying nutrition with that lughead that follows you around from time to time.
John Cavanagh: Why do you think all of the old goombahs are twice the size of an old Irishman.Vinny Abruzzo: I always figured it was because you savages lived off of a liquid diet.
John Cavanagh: Very funny.
John looked down and reached for his Jameson and Ginger Ale that was in front of him, taking a sip he realized what Vinny was getting at but he was never going to admit that his people had a problem with the water of life.
Vinny Abruzzo: So, I called you here because I wanted to make sure everything is going to go smoothly.
John Cavanagh: With?Vinny cast a stare in Cavanagh’s direction, he wasn’t sure if it had slipped Johnnie’s mind or if John was playing games. Either way he knew that he had to tiptoe around the actual question.Vinny Abruzzo: You know, that thing, out east.John Cavanagh: Oh, that shithead. The second generation guy, right? The ungrateful prick who thinks that he’s better than everyone because of his bloodline?
Vinny nodded his head in agreement with John.John Cavanagh: Yeah, don’t worry about it.
Vinny Abruzzo: Remember, we gotta make sure that this goes away…completely away…I don’t need to be hearing anything about this ever again.
John Cavanagh: I made some calls, it’s being taken care of.
Vinny Abruzzo: I just hope it’s taken care of in a respectable way. Ya know, his father deserves that much.
John Cavanagh: It should be done…today, so, I wouldn’t worry about it.
Just then the scene cut.Unknown neighborhood
Baiting Hollow, New York
Sunday night, September 11th
The suburban Long Island night had grown much cooler than it was earlier in the week. The humidity had broke, it was actually comfortable to be outside at night again, save for the ever present mosquitoes. The camera began to focus on a modest ranch home.
While the porch was illuminated, the surroundings of the area were darkened by the night. Suddenly the front door on the porch swung open and a small Chihuahua was seen on a leash followed by our portly friend, Cristoforo “Pags” Pagliarulo. Pags walked down the steps of his porch with his all white pup leading the way. Cristoforo let out a loud yawn as they began making their way down the property to the property line. Cristoforo turned to the right at the end of the property and continued walking until he rounded the corner of his block. He looked down to his dog who was sniffing some vegetation on the side of the property.
Cristoforo Pagliarulo: Come on you stupid mutt take your piss and shit.Cristoforo never wanted this dog, it wasn’t exactly his style. Taking care of another living thing is always somewhat difficult when you’re too focused on yourself. The dog didn’t do either of the things that Cristoforo was hoping for and they continued to walk. While prodding along the roar of a bored out Harley Davidson is heard. Cristoforo looked behind him to see a solitary headlight moving towards him. He continued to stare as the vehicle came closer and closer. As the motorcycle approached Cristoforo a feeling of sudden relief came over him as he realized the motorcycle was continuing on its way. “Those motorcycle people are fucking nuts” he thought to himself. Pags continued to walk down the block until a breeze swept through knocking over an aluminum garbage can on someone’s property which led to his fearsome guard dog beginning to bark into the night at absolutely nothing.![]() Cristoforo Pagliarulo: What the hell are you gonna do you dumb mutt? Cristoforo couldn’t help but laugh at his pocket sized canine attempting to be intimidating. It was indeed always the little dogs that started the problems. Cristoforo was so busy laughing at the situation that he didn’t manage to catch a glimpse of the dark blue, beat down van that rounded the corner with its headlights off. The van slowly creeped towards Pagliarulo. Once it reached him, the van door slid open. The man inside had his face covered with a black ski mask and in his hands rested a twelve gauge shotgun. Cristoforo turned to see the van, but it was too light, a flash of light blinded Cristoforo before he collapse to the ground. He wheezed, breathing was quite difficult when pieces of buckshot rip through your torso. It was only a matter of time for Cristoforo, his enemies had the drop on him and there was nothing that he could do about it. The van pulled off slowly so as to not leave any skid marks. Cristoforo laid there for a moment, gasping for air as his torso became covered in a pool of blood. His chihuahua walked over and began to sniff him, the dog began to lick one of the wounds through Cristoforo’s shirt as the scene cut.Abruzzo’s
Little Italy, New York
Sunday night, September 11thThe scene re-opened on the streets outside of Abruzzo’s. The red, script, neon lettering provided a nice hue on the street beneath. Down the block sat what was clearly some form of a surveillance van. The scene kept an eye on the front door of Abruzzo’s as John Cavanagh and Vinny Abruzzo walked out of the restaurant side by side. Suddenly rapid fire click of a camera is heard as the scene jumps to the inside of the van. A man dressed in a white dress shirt and tan slacks was holding a camera.Unidentified Cameraman: We’ve got Vinny Abruzzo and John Cavanagh exiting the restaurant at 11:37 p.m.As the cameraman let these words go, he felt a vibration coming from his pocket. He looked down and grabbed his cell phone, reading the message the expression on his face changed to a look of concern.Unidentified Cameraman: And, Cris Pags is dead.
The scene cut to static. |
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