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Post by Osh Vaughan on Apr 24, 2024 10:04:30 GMT
Match 6: World Title Match - Jay Vaughan vs. John Cavanagh
After months of anticipation, the moment of truth has arrived as Jay Vaughan and John Cavanagh go head-to-head for the coveted IIW World Title. With Vaughan looking to prove himself as the true IIW superstar, and Cavanagh seeking redemption and reclaiming his championship, the stakes couldn't be higher in this epic showdown.
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Post by The Celtic Club on May 7, 2024 14:04:02 GMT
The IIW faithful were greeted to silence, not the normal static that preceded the man who would grace their screens on this day. The silence was joined by darkness, nothing could be made out on the screen just silence and darkness until his deep, somewhat raspy voice interrupted the calm.
John Cavanagh: Once upon a time, not too long ago, there was the end of an era. Many people around the world thought that this meant the end of a company, of a dynasty. The IIW hosted its final event on that faithful night and wouldn’t you know what the final main event was scheduled to be? J Mont and Johnnie Cav for the most prestigious prize in the game in a last man standing match. After the miserable little cuckold stacked the cards against me in his favorite match, the ladder match, Johnnie Cav was given the blessing of a lifetime–a match he couldn’t lose. A match where a tough son of a bitch like myself was at a serious advantage over the little prissy bitch that is Joe Montuori. So, when the smoke cleared and the sawdust from the tables settled–Johnnie Cav was the last man standing and The One Man Dynasty regained what was rightfully his–the IIW World Championship.
Cavanagh, who still hadn’t been seen by this point, continued to sit in darkness. No silhouette, nothingness.
John Cavanagh: So, when it was all said and done and the rightful man was crowned champion—it was obvious that the show was going to go off the air with the victor holding the prize high above their head, body drenched in sweat and blood—one last image of the grit and determination it takes to be successful in our sport. Makes sense, right? Wrong! The last image of the IIW that the world was able to see was a cowardly little prick coming out of nowhere and kicking me right between the uprights and running off with a championship belt that he’s never had enough skill to physically hold. Sad, ain’t it? Kind of pathetic if you ask me. Jay Vaughan, all of the money and privilege in the world and yet he needs to resort to childish bullshit and sneak attacks. It’s all good though, when we meet at Explosion–there will be a bit of a reckoning as far as you are concerned, sir.
The silence returned as The One Man Dynasty gathered his thoughts. It was as if he needed to put his thoughts in order, the sporadic trickles of anger had coalesced together into a sea of rage that could no longer be tamed.
John Cavanagh: To go out on top–that was always the plan. See, Jay, good old Johnnie Cav has been at this game for a hell of a long time. I’ve played the short game and the long game. I’ve won World Championships, battle royals, tournaments, secondary championships. I’ve beaten the ever loving piss out of an uncountable amount of opponents while also being left covered in my own blood on more occasions than I’d like to admit. But, to me…it was all a part of one hell of a ride. A little while ago, I kind of admitted to the world that Johnnie Cav ain’t too sure how many bumps he’s got left in his body. Wounds and bruises heal, but after awhile your body starts to tell you that them boots, they might have enough mileage on them. I said that I wasn’t sure how much time I had left and, honestly, had I been in possession of the greatest prize in the game while I was slowly taking over Full Throttle–I may have left my boots in the center of that ring, but, I gotta admit–I’m happy that ain’t the way it ended.
Clapping hands. The sound of clapping hands began to reverberate through the room, it was assumed that Cavanagh was the one producing the noise.
John Cavanagh: I could have said to hell with it. I could have sat my boots down in an FTW ring and proclaimed that The One Man Dynasty found a way to go out on top of the mountain but that would have only been a half truth. Would I have, technically, been the guy on top of the mountain…yes. But would I, actually, be that guy? No. I wouldn’t have had the belt to crown myself, just the title of champion and if you know Johnnie Cav, which the average IIW fan certainly does, that ain’t gonna cut it for this potato eatin’ son of a bitch! Jay, you decided to take something that didn’t belong to you as if it were your own. You walk around claiming that you are the IIW World Champion but everyone and their uncle knows what is about to happen when you and I lock up. There is going to be an explosion of anger from this Irish bastard that you aren’t going to be able to control. You may think that you are prepared for this day on the battlefield but the truth of the matter is…you could never be prepared for the pain you are about to be put through by my hands.
A thud was heard–sounded as if it were flesh on flesh. More than probably one of Cavanagh’s fists making contact with his opposing open palm. It wasn’t mind games that he was playing…it was just him mimicking the reality that Jay Vaughan would soon endure.
John Cavanagh: All I know is that I am going to enjoy this–maybe a little too much. Maybe I’m a little bit of a sick puppy, maybe Jay Vaughan has it coming, but to me this reminds me a little bit of a thing called “street justice”. Ya know, the world I came from, Jay? Isn’t there a little bit of poetic justice that Jay Vaughan successfully robbed a man who has been a thief and is now going to pay for it with his own blood? I don’t know what in the Mario Puzo, Francis Ford Copolla, The Godfather type shit IIW had in mind for season four but you can bet your ass that good old Johnnie Cav is going to give them everything they thought they were going for and then some. This ain’t gonna be some run of the mill ass beating that gets handed out to you, Jay, fuck that. Hell’s Kitchen’s Favorite Son is going to go medieval in this bitch! Jay may not realize this just yet but when his music hits before our match, he’s not actually walking to the ring–he’s walking himself down to the gallows where an executioner awaits him.
Jay is taking himself somewhere that he won’t have the luxury of returning from–at least not the same. This is going to be one of those traumatic experiences that your body won’t ever heal from and that you’ll be paying out the ass to talk to some shrink to try and get your mind to get over it. Jay Vaughan is going to go from being on Cloud Nine, flying among the gods, plummeting down to Earth, crashing as if he were some kind of meteorite pulled into the planet’s gravitational force. Only difference Jay? When you crash there won’t be any crater for people to stare at–instead the world will have a pile of wreckage and carnage to behold. The strewn about pieces of weaponry, the barely breathing body of Jay Vaughan, the blood that will grace the canvas and the camera panning out to a referee handing back MY championship to its rightful owner and The One Man Dynasty, victorious…again.
Without warning the lights flickered on to show the blonde haired Irishman seated in a room that looked as if it were made out of nothing but cinder blocks. No decorations strewn about, a far cry from the normal local of The Blarney Stone. Nothing gave away where this location might be.
John Cavanagh: See, I’ve been a bit of a smug, arrogant son of a bitch the majority of my career. Ask any fan that has followed the John Cavanagh Story and they can tell you how much of a bastard I can truly be. From my days running around the streets, to my days in the can, my days building my career, all the way up until about two years ago–most fans would never have had my back. Then, all of a sudden, a cancer developed and was cut out by the man who the masses decided to suddenly embrace. Maybe I wasn’t always a team player, shit, maybe I’ve got a little bit of bad karma surrounding me and that’s why Jay Vaughan was able to accomplish what he did–but this time, this time it’s all going to be a little different. This time when Johnnie Cav makes his way down to the squared circle the masses are going to have his back. This time when The One Man Dynasty steps into the ring to defend his World Championship, he knows that the violence he will bestow upon his opponent is more than justified. When IIW explodes this Sunday, there ain’t nobody that can save Jay Vaughan from this epic ass whooping that I’ve got in store for him.
Cavanagh rubbed the palms of his hands together while he gathered his thoughts. The World Champion knew that regardless of how he thought–this match against Jay Vaughan was still going to be a battle.
John Cavanagh: Don’t get me wrong, Jay, I’m not expecting this to be some walk in the park. I’m not thinking that I’m going to the ring at Explosion, beating you from post to post, teaching you a lesson and pinning your shoulders to the mat for the count of three all without you laying a hand on me. Am I going to be put through the ringer? You bet your ass. Am I going to feel pain? Fuck yeah. Will I taste my own blood? I’d be willing to bet my entire year’s salary at IIW that my face will be a crimson mask and my blonde hair will be looking redder than the Lucky Charms leprechaun but, ya know what? It will all be worth it just to hear you scream, to watch the grimace on your face as I choke the life out of you and then, when all the smoke clears, watching the look of dismay on your face as Explosion goes off the air with The One Man Dynasty holding the IIW World Championship, his rightful championship, high in the air for all of the world to see. In our world, that is what you call a fairy tale ending. This ain’t Disney–there ain’t no Sleeping Beauties, there ain’t no magic carpet to take you away from your troubles…there is just fists and boots, blood and sweat, pain and suffering…that is the world that we all chose to enter and that is all that the fans will see when Johnnie Cav locks up with Jay Vaughan on Sunday night.
Cavanagh moved his arm up towards his face, he stared down at his wristwatch.
John Cavanagh: To be honest, I never look at this thing to tell the time–it’s just an accessory in the twenty-first century but one thing this little watch is telling me–your time is up, Jay. The days of you walking around acting like your hot shit are about to come screeching to an abrupt stop. There won’t be any time for you to brace yourself for the impact, it’s just going to happen. It won’t be pretty, it won’t be gentle–it will be ugly and it will be brutal. Sometimes, Jay…people need to be held accountable for their transgressions and this Sunday night, at Explosion, good old Johnnie Cav can’t wait to play judge, jury and executioner. See you at Explosion.
The scene cut to static.
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