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Post by Osh Vaughan on Jun 28, 2021 14:59:05 GMT
International Title vs Canadian Title
Tyler Debonair vs John Cavanagh
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Post by Tyler Debonair on Jul 7, 2021 8:57:55 GMT
***The scene slowly opens on a lazy Friday afternoon. It’s been two weeks since Tyler Debonair was last in action on IIW’s Monday Night Mayhem. Right now he is sat on the rooftop of his Northern Quarter apartment, in a deckchair. About eight feet infront of him is a washing line with a white sheet chucked over it and next to his chair, on a wooden table, sits a travel projector which is casting an image on the sheet as Tyler is sat back in the deckchair, sipping on a bottle of Dr. Pepper as he watches on***
***Tyler smirks at the very last part of the match, after the three count. He shakes his head and takes another swig of the Dr. Pepper, as the segment on the IIW show he’s watching skips to last weeks Mayhem and John Cavanagh pops up on the screen… Tyler leans forward, paying intense attention to Cavanagh’s words, as if it were the very first time in hearing it, when in fact it really wasn’t. He forwards the segment a little and sits back again***
***Again, Tyler lets out a little chuckle as he rewinds the last part over and over again, while finishing his bottle of Dr. Pepper. He tosses it behind him and it slams straight into a metal trash can he’s got placed in one corner of his self-made rooftop shack. He lets out a yawn as he stretches every inch of his body, pushes himself out of the chair and clicks his teeth*** Tyler: ”Son of a bitch…”
***Tyler opens the door to the rooftop and begins to make his way back downstairs. He walks out into the kitchen and heads straight for the pantry. Grabbing a loaf of bread, he turns to walk to the fridge and comes face to face with Steph which makes him almost drop the bread*** Tyler: ”Aarrgh! Jesus babe you scared then hell out of me!”
Steph: ”Woah sorry Ty! I thought you heard me coming in! Are you ok?”
Tyler: ”Of course I am, just wasn’t expecting you to be behind me, that’s all. Where have you been, anyway?”
Steph: ”I’ve been at the courthouse with the girls. Your sister got a match you know?”
Tyler: ”She has? I’ve not watched any current IIW for a day or two, who’s her opponent?”
Steph: ”Some newcomer to the promotion, Robin Vengeance, it’s a Queen Of the Ring tournament.”
***Tyler opens a cabinet and pulls out his Empire compact grill, placing it on the kitchen side. He grabs the butter from the fridge and turns to Steph as he starts to butter the bread*** Tyler: ”Queen of the ring, eh? Well it seems Bob Mitchell has been busy since he took over.”
Steph: ”He has, very busy! But I’d still like to know what he’s thinking where you’re concerned. First you’re placed in a tag-match against John Cavanagh and Zak Steele, relying on Rogue to watch your back!”
Tyler: ”Which in fairness, he did and he did a good job doing so”
Steph: ”Okay, granted he did… But then we find that you’ve been booked against Cavanagh at Explosion, for your belt?!”
***Tyler cuts up ham, cheese and chorizo and adds it into the sandwich he’s toasting. He closes the lid on the grill again, smiles at Steph and grabs another bottle of Dr. Pepper from the fridge*** Tyler: ”And his belt too though, let’s not forget that Steph…”
Steph: ”Okay yes, that’s true! But c’mon Tyler!”
Tyler: ”This seems to be bothering you, quite a bit babe.”
Steph: ”And I don’t think you’re bothered enough if I’m being honest with you! Why do you not seem bothered?!”
***Tyler finishes adding things to his now toasted sandwich and plates them up. Grabbing a bottle of chilli Mayo from the fridge he walks to the living room, sitting down on the couch and pouring a mound of the chilli Mayo on the side of his plate as Steph sits on one of the chairs opposite the couch*** Tyler: ”I just don’t see the point in being bothered by it, Steph, any of it. Whether I’m worried or I’m totally fine, I’ll be taking on John Cavanagh in a Unification match for our belts so I just have no qualms…”
Steph: ”And you don’t think this could have been played out on purpose? A setup of some kind?”
Tyler: ”A setup for what though, babe?”
Steph: ”Oh I dunno, Ty! But given the stories I’ve heard about John Cavanagh from both you and your dad I wouldn’t put anything past him… I just don’t want you to get unnecessarily injured… Speaking of your dad, did you ever get to tell him about Cav?”
Tyler: ”No I get that and thank you for caring for me that much, that even the talk of me facing John Cavanagh has you worried about me! And no, I’ve not spoken to my dad since before I won the International Title at Worlds Collide… Tried to call him the other weekend for Father‘s Day too, Mercy said she couldn’t get hold of him either…”
Steph: ”Wow… So he’s got no idea Cav and The Celtic Club are here in IIW? Has nobody seen him around?”
***Tyler dips part of his toastie into the Mayo and takes a big bite, closing his eyes as he tastes the goodness. He chases it back with a mouthful of Dr. Pepper and wipes his mouth, nodding as he looks back at Steph*** Tyler: ”Well, when I went to speak to Abe and Asher, Asher said that my dad already knows that Cav is in IIW… Abe said they had seen him, but not for a while.”
Steph: ”You know this is insane… One minute you’re mad at your dad for something and not returning his calls and now you need to get hold of him and he’s dead silent…”
Tyler: ”It is what it is, Steph… I’ll speak to him soon, I’m sure”
***Tyler smiles at Steph, taking another bite of his toastie, as she watches him, slightly worried. He takes another mouthful of Dr. Pepper, sits back on the couch, feet up on the table and grabs the control to switch on the TV. Steph playfully pushes his feet off the table and leans into a cuddle with him as the scene begins to fade slowly into darkness…
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…We reopen on Tyler, dressed in a pair of faded denim jeans, black tee-shirt and same colour sneakers. He’s just locking up the apartment when he’s startled by someone standing behind him, it’s Casie’s PA, Frankie*** Tyler: ”Damn it! Can you girls please stop sneaking up on a guy?!”
Frankie: ”I’m ever so sorry, Mr. Debonair… I work for your aunt Casie.”
Tyler: ”That’s okay I’ll get over it! You must be Frankie then? And please, as I tell everyone, call me Tyler… Mr. Debonair was my father.”
Frankie: ”That’s right, Tyler, my name is Frankie.”
Tyler: ”Well, what can I do for you Frankie?”
Frankie: ”I’ve actually been sent here by Casie as the Netflix crew were hoping to do one of those close up face to face interviews with you for the show.”
***Tyler thinks for a bit, clicking his tongue in thought and tapping his chin as if he’s trying to get all his ducks in a row, pertaining to plans he may have in the next few hours. He turns to Frankie and smiles a warm smile, extending an arm in an “after you” fashion and she walks towards what Tyler recognises as Casie’s car… It doesn’t take but ten minutes and they’ve reached The Courthouse.
Tyler walks in behind Frankie and is met by the Producer of The Coven’s Netflix series and Casie who shares a hug with her nephew. Tyler is taken to a small area in a corner of the property where a camera is setup, along with a white backdrop and a chair for him to sit in. Tyler smiles and looks around at the students he’s just noticed absolutely everywhere and feels a slight tinge of pride in everything being done at The Courthouse when he hears them being counted down to start the interview*** Producer: ”Firstly thank you for agreeing to do this at such short notice, Tyler. Just wanted to ask you first of all how you’re feeling about the UK now you’ve been here three months already?”
Tyler: ”You’re welcome and well what else is there to say but I’m feeling very comfortable here in the UK, despite the fact that I’ve been stuck in the deluge of lar-de-dar faffy pretty boys and chavvy girls wherever I go, wanting a photo of Tyler Debonair or an autograph or whatever… And of course I entertain them, despite knowing their poor asses are just going to probably sell the damn things on eBay to pay for their smoking habit or whatever it is the kids do these days. But as you see, The Courthouse also has a lot of bright, young, respectable British athletes looking to step into the shoes of the Casie’s, the Darius’, the Mercedes and even yours truly so something is being done right…”
Producer: ”Understandable and what do you think of the Academy at the moment? You’ve put a lot of money into this project and it’s coming to fruition slowly.”
Tyler: ”Yeah, these guys and girls are definitely the exception to the rule of the cesspool this country generally provides. Especially one particular guy I’ve got here, Cristian Gregory. You guys saw him at the arena the Mayhem after Worlds Collide, when The Kindred first officially formed and I had won the IIW International Title. He distracted Eddie Sham while Darius made a point to the greaseball…”
Producer: ”You mentioned the official formation of The Kindred, but you guys away from the ring are actually all family. Was there a particular reason for the formation in IIW?”
Tyler: ”Well as I said on the night these guys are literally family. You have my girlfriend, sister and auntie and the one guy who is practically a brother to me… You have nothing if not for family, family is what keeps you going and I wasn’t doing anything here, without them.”
Producer: ”Alright, well… At Worlds Collide, after winning the IIW International Title, John Cavanagh and The Celtic Club made themselves known publicly. He has a storied history with your father on both sides of the fence, what’s your thoughts on him given that he’s not family but is close as it were?”
Tyler: ”Well you’re right, John Cavanagh isn’t family and this unfortunately means when he realises how much Trig and Andy are holding him back, we won’t be able to offer him a spot in The Kindred… But he was close to my dad and the last I heard, when FcW closed down, they were still part of the same group. As far as I knew, they were still pals, but John apparently has a different set of memories I guess. To answer your question, all John Cavanagh is to me, is another guy trying to take my belt… He is just another opponent that I have to face… It is what it is.”
***Todd the cameraman signals to the Producer they’ve got all the bites they need and both he and Tyler stand up, shake hands and part ways. Tyler walks over to Casie and Mercedes who are watching four girls put on an exhibition tag-team match in the ring, as the scene slowly begins to fade out…
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…We reopen once again where we started, on the rooftop of Tyler’s apartment. The night sky is gleaming with as many stars as the smog soiled northern sky will allow. The moon is also shining down and casting a small spotlight on Tyler, who’s sat in his deckchair, eyes closed and hands locked behind his head*** Tyler: ”How did I know it was going to come to this? How did I know, the day John Cavanagh stepped out of the shadows to try and eclipse my night of becoming the IIW International Champion, bragging about his FCPW Canadian Title, that we’d be meeting at some stage? On that very same night, Bob Mitchell’s team won to give him control of the company and clearly there was a twinkle in the eye and a lightbulb going off in his head when he thought about this opportunity and of course here we are. My active International Title versus John Cavanagh‘s defunct and bought out, Canadian Championship! You know, thinking on it… There’s something quite poetic about me, taking a Canadian title in England and turning it into the newly formed International belt…
John, the day you walked out from behind that curtain at Worlds Collide I got chills man, I got goosebumps! I got this vibe that I’ve not had since I watched you and my dad in the ring, over a decade ago… And then you spoke. What is it they say, John? You should never meet your idols? That was what it was like with you, because I tried to deny it at the time and I kept that smile on my face the entire time I spoke about that night since but I just refused to see what you were doing, but later on the more I’ve watched you and listened it’s become quite evident that you’re the same John Cavanagh as you’ve always been.
And I’m well aware that you never claimed to be anything different, John and you’ll say but kid you’ve seen me around for close to however many years and you’ve always known what I’m like and you’d be speaking the truth, hoss… This has been entirely my fault because I was living off of legend, but no more. You made your point well known when along with Rogue, I faced you and Zack Steele… The same Zack Steele who thought you were his best friend, who thought he could trust you. And when I beat him for a second time on the bounce, I’m guessing he had some thinking to do when he skulked away… But when I beat him and Rogue and myself came out best against you both, you just couldn’t accept it could you, John? What did you do? Oh, that’s right, you went and attacked me despite the match already being over…”
***Tyler clicks his teeth and shakes his head, he wags a finger as he sits up and forward in the deckchair, leaning on his knees as he looks up into the night sky*** Tyler: ”You know John, before we first met, you made some comment about how your arrival in IIW had Tyler Debonair, what was it? “Part shook, part confused”? No man, what you did have was me bouncing around like a kid at Christmas because the great, albeit arrogant, John Cavanagh had come to IIW… But I’m over all that now, I’m completely done with it all. I stood in awe of you, Cavanagh, but now I see you’re just a man like the rest of us… You bleed, you bruise and you break just like everybody else and at Explosion I am going to make it my sole aim to prove this.
You asked John, what you had to do, to be recognised around this place… Well, any true soldier who doesn’t have a care in the world for how people view him, who doesn’t care what people think or say… They’d just take that recognition, they’d force it down people’s throats and that is what I thought “The One Man Dynasty” would have done, but no… You asked what you had to do. Well the answer was simple, you have a tag match with a perineal failure as your wing-man and then you’ll be given the opportunity to face me, for this…
***Tyler leans down and pulls up the IIW International Title from the side of the deckchair, laying it across his shoulder as he sits back again*** Tyler: ”Or is it me, getting the chance to finally take that piece of gold from around your waist, Johnny boy? Is it me that’s being given the opportunity to remove such a delicate bit of show jewellery from your good self? You see John, I’m fully capable of understanding how important winning a title is, especially the first one in a long time and double especially goes for the belts that haven’t been active for a very long time before you win it… So I hope you’ll forgive me for saying that you should be keeping that inoperative Canadian Championship in an oak frame somewhere above your bed or something, rather than carrying it around with you everywhere you go… But that’s okay, I’ll help you lighten the load soon enough.
So John, I assume now you’ve got that title shot you’ve been craving this whole time, you’re expecting to be turning that violence level up again, eh? You’re gonna try sticking ol’ Tyler Debonair in a wheelchair perhaps? You’ve got to ask yourself though man, could you really pull it a off?? I mean I’ve seen some greatness pulled off by you, Cavanagh… Both in the ring and outside of it. I’ve seen you do some pretty despicable things too, John but it’s like you seem to forget who I am, hoss… I may only be “the son of Fred Debonair” to you but trust me when I say I’m really not to be underestimated and you know, I think you may just know this already thanks to our match a couple of weeks ago…
John let me ask you something, because I really would like to know. What happens if, when we square off in the ring, I destroy you? What happens if I end up breaking an ankle? Busting your head open? Putting you in a brace or worse yet on crutches? You see John, these are the really important questions because the bottom line of it all, is that you just aren’t the be all and end all, that you think you are… You treat the this industry as your own personal stress ball, your own playground and I admire that John but you seem to think that you’re the only one who resides here, well newsflash hoss. This is my playground, this is my street and this is my house.
***Tyler stands up from the deckchair and let’s the International Title drape down and slide into the seat. He walks around admiring the night sky and visible Manchester skyline as he approaches the edge of the rooftop, stopping a little way before reaching it*** Tyler: ”You see John, all this? It’s mine. I staked my claim before you even knew IIW existed, before you’d even won your Canadian Title and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let just anybody waltz in here and act as if they’re head boy. You’ve been living this life where I believe you’ve been given this false sense that you are the centre, you are the prime focus and everything revolves around you, John… But in reality, you’re just another pawn in the same game I am, the same game we are… And as time ticks away you’ll realise that things just aren’t as black and white as you seem to think they are.
Every story has a beginning, a middle and an end, John… I already know mine, but are you sure you know where you’re headed? I bet you’re standing there right now, watching me speak, hands on hips, face going red and reminding everyone who’ll listen you’re the master of your own destiny right? Or just convincing yourself perhaps? Cavanagh, you’re going to be the toughest opponent I’ve ever faced and with all due respect to the others, the biggest challenge to my International Title… But do us both a favour and stop just seeing me as a “novice”, stop seeing me as some young buck who’s standing in your way, because John I can assure you I’m going to be the toughest opponent you’ve ever faced, I’m going to be the biggest challenge to that Canadian Championship… l
Through hell and high water, John… Through the darkness and the guiding light, I will be there every step of the way, hoss. And when the dust has settled, the smoke has cleared and Andy and Trig realise those girls they’re seeing are packing a lot more than just a Smith and Wesson model ten… You will realise that you are once again, without the shiny metal. John I’m coming to make a point, I’m coming for your belt and I’m coming to show you that the last thing you do is stick your head above the parapet, when I’m around… Addio per ora, John.”
***Tyler turns and begins to walk away from the edge of the roof and back toward the door leading to his apartment, picking up the IIW International Title as he does so, the scene disappearing into nothing…
++++++++++++
… We reopen in a small park in the Northern Quarter. It’s still night time and the sky has cleared even more, the moon high in the sky. Tyler Debonair is sat on one of the benches, dressed in sneakers, a pair of jeans and a dark hoodie. He’s leaning back on the bench checking his phone, when someone comes walking up to the bench and sits next to him. We can’t quite see the person, as Tyler hands over an envelope without looking*** Man: ”So, are you sure you want to do this? There’s no other way?”
Tyler: ”I’m sure and no there isn’t…”
Man: ”It’s going to be very expensive…”
Tyler: ”It’ll be worth it, after everything she’s done…”
Man: ”She’s family.”
Tyler: ”Exactly… Oh and tell my dad I say hey and to call me maybe? It’s been a while and I know you’re in touch still.”
***Tyler stands up, pulling his hood over his head, before walking off… Leaving Abe Greenberg watching after him and shaking his head as a smile flickers across his face and we fade - to - black!***
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Post by The Celtic Club on Jul 7, 2021 16:49:07 GMT
Bare feet--the scene opens to a pair of bare Caucasian feet walking down a concrete slab. The camera pans up to show the tattooed legs, the private area covered by a towel, a pair of shoes and an inmate’s uniform, further up we see the face of John Cavanagh, albeit quite a bit younger than his IIW-self. John’s face had a smug scowl upon it as he was escorted by a correction’s officer to a cell. In the background we can see the same thing happening with a few different newly arrived inmates. The door opens, the guard motions John in. Before the guard closes the door he looks to John and says…
Corrections Officer: Welcome home, scumbag. Get comfy!
The large steel door shut behind John. He walked back toward the bullet proof glass slit in the door and peered out to the rest of the population that was also locked down. As the scene cut to the present. John Cavanagh was seated with his body half covered in the shadows and half lit by a lone, hanging light bulb. The rest of John’s surroundings remain shrouded in darkness.
John Cavanagh: ”Life’s a bitch. Life, it has a way of molding you and changing you over time. See, life experiences help us to learn what we need to learn in order to survive and in order to improve our skills. I’ve had the honor of doing pretty much everything in life—I’ve had the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. I was a happy kid who had mom and dad around—then dad wound up going to prison, mom had to work two full-time jobs so what happened to Johnnie and Chris? The Cavanagh prodigies found their way to street life—just like their daddy. I went from being an innocent pre-pubescent boy to a criminal during adolescence. The streets, I don’t care where you are, they're always a bit colder than the surrounding environment. Honestly, whoever said the streets were the easy way out—that motherfucker didn’t spend a split second in the streets in their life. It’s complicated, political, dangerous and add in the fact that every time you earn a dime its usually illegal and you can’t help but stress about how long you’ll actually be free on the streets or if that nest egg you buried will be enough for the attorney and to help your family while you’re away at college.”
John laughed, he always enjoyed the fact that many referred to the penitentiary as college.
John Cavanagh: ”College. Now there is a fucking trip and a half. Everybody running around on the streets likes to think that they’re King Kong, they’re invincible, that there ain’t one person on God’s green Earth that could touch them. Then those same rough and tumble youngsters get their first major stretch. Prison, that changes you—regardless of what happens on the inside. You begin to see the world through an entirely different lens. You go from being a little shit, scum bag off the streets with a chip on your shoulder to a full-fledged badass who’s lost all sense of remorse…or, for some, you learn the hard way that you weren’t built the way you thought you were built. Prison prepared me for the journey I’ve taken in this sport. Sure, I had plenty of street fights before I went to the can but a street fight is funny. Some people just run their mouths and wind up getting laced up pretty quickly in that environment. That’s because some people don’t understand—there are people in this world who don’t give a fuck and won’t hesitate to put you down while you’re still talking all of that bullshit. In prison? The overwhelming majority of the population can and is ready and more than willing to throw down, shit, a good chunk of the population wouldn’t think twice about putting a shiv into your spine either. That kind of an environment—it changes you. It takes whatever little bit of empathy, kindness and morality a person might have…and it washes it all away like the Bible’s great flood. The only question is—will you let it wash you away as well or will you cling on to Noah’s Ark and survive the storm?”
The Irishman from Hell’s Kitchen chuckled under his breath, barely audible to the cameras but the smirk on his face could give away the moment of enjoyment.
John Cavanagh: ”When Johnnie Cav is confronted with adversity, you best believe this miserable bastard always finds an angle, I can always persevere. Streets, prison, professional wrestling...I love the challenge of me against another man, or us against them in certain situations. I love to look at the field, pick my target and strike when the moment is right. When the ink dried on my contract with IIW I looked around and I saw plenty of people for me to make an example out of. I saw plenty of helpless bastards who would be that little punk in the street running their mouth, and would wind up one of those guys who found out they weren't built for that. I saw a World Champion, interesting, who doesn't want to be the top dog? Who doesn't want the extra paycheck, the prestige, the power to hold the entire promotion by the balls because YOU are number one. Yeah, I thought about that for a split second and then I decided...eh, I'll circle back around and get to that piece of hardware a little later on in this journey. I kept looking around and I saw a familiar surname, Debonair, but it wasn't accompanied by the first name I had become accustomed to--this Debonair was named Tyler. Then I saw Tyler happened to be in the finals of the International Championship tournament. Now Tyler, you may be sitting there trying to figure out why I’m gunning for you. You may be “ohming” away and trying to channel your inner Buddha, self-reflecting in Downward Dog to figure out what you did to catch the wrath of good old Johnnie Cav—let me save you all of that trouble. See, I love playing mind games but this right here—no mind games are necessary for this one. Tyler, it’s not ever as simple as “you're the international Champion, therefore you have something I desire and I must destroy you!”.
John laughed as the half of his face that had been exposed by the light was momentarily shroud in darkness as he arched his head backward.
John Cavanagh: ”No…see that would be far too simple, far too novice, far too generic for why John Cavanagh was so eager to get into Intense International Wrestling. I’ll be the fish to bite at the bait, I’ll open up a bit of memory lane for all of the backwater Brits that may have not been watching American wrestling back in the late 2000s. Tyler, your dad and I, we had a hell of a lot of history. You could write fucking collegiate term papers on the story of John Cavanagh and Fred Debonair. Now, I won’t make this story long and protracted because that would spoil all of the fun—I’m not quite sure how much your feeble, young mind remembers so I might as well save some of the story to enlighten you later on.”
The One Man Dynasty sucked on his front teeth.
John Cavanagh: ”The place was called Fearless Championship Wrestling—I was there at the start and throughout the majority of the promotion’s existence. Hell, I even led a short-lived invasion of another promotion but let's just say those of us that took the Viking route didn’t exactly play well with others—most of us didn’t have the lengthiest of stays. Shit, your father didn’t even take the trip. Whatever his reasons were, they were—I never asked him. See, Fred and I...we were, usually, at each other’s necks. It only made sense, we were two of the most dominant forces to ever step foot in FcW. If memory serves me correct, the both of us held each title at one point or another. We even found ourselves on the same team once upon a time, The Coalition. While I wouldn’t say your father was a loyal soldier, I would say he made sure to follow the beat of the drum as long as he needed to. Quite a shame really, who knows what could have been if your father just stayed in line. What the wrestling world could have looked like if Fred Debonair just realized that he was always meant to play second fiddle to Johnnie Cav.”
The FCPW Canadian Champion paused for a moment. His gaze seemed to look directly past the camera. After a few moments John snapped out of his trance like state.
John Cavanagh: ”Let’s just say The Coalition would have been a bit more dominant for quite a bit longer. Stupidity, ego and brash confidence are what got in the way of the empire that could have been. Oh well, the piece of the pie that your father could have had went to others…and such is life. Let me skip to one certain moment in this entire story. The moment that the inaugural FcW Universal Heavyweight Champion lost his championship for the first time. It was called a Ladder From Hell Match. It involved myself, your father and two other pricks who don’t deserve my breath. The premise of the match? A ladder match inside of a topless Hell in a Cell—to win you had to gain control of the championship and escape the cage. I had no allies in that cage—at least that’s what they all thought. At the end of the night, your father would join The Coalition, quite clearly it was in the cards at the start of the night as well. I had the belt, I had it in my possession—I wanted to make sure this other double crossing bastard who WAS in The Coalition but left didn’t leave with it, so I tossed the belt to your father.”
The silence returned. The Irishman bit his bottom lip and dragged his tooth across it. Johnnie shook off the momentary thoughts and returned to the camera
John Cavanagh: ”The conniving prick your father was, he Usain Bolt’ed the fuck outta there and got out of the cage with MY championship. Why? I had already beaten your father and he knew damn well he couldn’t get the job done under normal circumstances. Now, Fred and I, we wound up burying the hatchet—because that was best for BUSINESS…at the time. Nowadays, you and your little crew of miscreants…that is what remains of the Debonair family, that is Fred Debonair’s legacy. What the fuck good is that? I continued to dominate professional wrestling until the State of New York decided I owed them a little bit more time. I did my time again, like the man I am, and after it was done…I got my ass back into the ring. I hit the gym, got my conditioning up to par and hit the ground running. Found an old stomping ground, found some new ones and it seems like the same old song and dance to Johnnie Cav. I go to a promotion, everyone puffs out their chest and talks a big game, and not too soon after—everyone realizes the nightmare that their employer has unleashed upon the roster. I might not be the biggest, the fastest or the strongest a roster has but I can guarantee you I’m the meanest, most sadistic and most calculated son of a bitch that IIW has to offer and unfortunately for you, Tyler, my past history with your father has you right in the center of my sights. So, when you reflect upon your life during one of your deep meditations or whatever the fuck it is you do in your spare time—remember, you can blame your father for EVERYTHING that is going to happen to YOU at Explosion.”
A sick, guttural laugh escaped from the depths of the blonde haired man’s body. He gazed upward, toward the ceiling of the room, cocking his head momentarily as if he were a dog. The gaze remains intense, his eyes nowhere near the camera as he continues.
John Cavnaagh: ”I wonder what would have become of Tyler Debonair had First Class Pro Wrestling never closed their doors. What if Johnnie Cav never entered that locker room? I can tell you one thing that is for certain--Tyler would feel much more comfortable, he wouldn’t have to look over his shoulder like someone from the street would be accustomed to. See, Tyler, I’ve actually been quite easy on you. Usually when I want to get at a foe I do my best to destroy them as much as possible, both physically and mentally, before the match ever takes place. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, if I already know someone has a bad knee or a bad shoulder--best believe that will be target number one throughout the entirety of the match up. And mental? If I’m able to get inside of someone’s head before we step foot in the ring--the battle is half won already. It’s a nightmare to fight someone who is already living rent free inside of your head, it makes it exponentially more difficult to think more than one step ahead. I haven’t secretly attacked you...I haven’t played mind games with you either. I came out right after you won the International Championship to make my intentions known. I went about the next few editions of Monday Night Mayhem biding my time. I said hello during your first successful title defense, we had our cliche clusterfuck tag team match and then I reminded you that you are just keeping the International Championship warm for John fucking Cavanagh! What would you have done differently these last few shows? You probably would have had a different challenger announced and you’d probably feel a hell of a lot more confident in your chances of retaining that championship at Explosion.
John begins to slowly shake his head back and forth while gathering his thoughts. He knew that he was in Tyler’s head the moment that he stepped out on that stage at World’s Collide--he knew he was in the mind of at least half of the roster at that very moment. John wasn’t worried about Tyler, he was more worried about what he might do to Tyler.
John Cavanagh: ”I didn’t want to spend these last three shows making your life a living hell Tyler...I didn’t want to damage you. You haven’t really done anything to warrant that kind of treatment yet. Not saying I haven’t been known to be an asshole and hunt for no reason but out of respect for an old rivalry...I figured I would let you keep your body in tip top condition until that bell rings. Make no mistake Tyler, once that bell rings, all bets are off. I can’t control what my body will do to you. I can’t promise that I will be able to control my rage and my animalistic tendencies that have made me ever so famous within this profession. Some may tell you that I skate by due to the assistance of others--that’s bullshit and I’m sure you haven’t made the same mistake of buying into that hype...have you Tyler? No, I’m sure you haven’t...there is absolutely no way your father would raise a child that idiotic.”
Johnnie laughed, he always knew there was an intelligent side to his old friend and rival Fred so he knew the next generation of the Debonair family wasn’t going to be weak--mentally at least.
John Cavanagh: ”It must be a painful thought for you Tyler. The thought that although you are the IIW International Champion and you have the champion’s advantage—you’re still viewed as the overwhelming underdog. It doesn’t matter how many members of the roster you’ve defeated since your debut—none of them where John fucking Cavanagh! Ladies and gentlemen, if the champion takes the time to look at the tale of the tape then it’s abundantly clear that he knows he’s in for the biggest fight of his life. Tyler my boy, don’t forget that on his WORST day Johnnie Cav is still better than ninety-nine percent of the people in this industry and my money is on you ain’t in that one percent that could hang with me on that day…guess you’re fucked, kid. So, with that, go say your prayers, eat your vitamins, stretch it up with some yoga, meditate, light some incense, watch some old matches, confer with your family…whatever the fuck it is you think is going to help you out this Sunday night at Explosion. Then, once you’re done doing all of those things, take some time to polish that International Championship—make that son of a bitch nice a pretty for the hard camera at Explosion. Make sure that those final photographs of you as champion glitter just so perfectly. Preserve those moments for yourself to cherish for the rest of your lifetime because as long as I’m around and my protege Andy after me, this is probably the pinnacle of your success. I wonder how long your tranquility of being a Zenmaster of sorts will last after Sunday night, Tyler. How long will all of your good vibes last once I pick you up and slam you on top of your head with a Hell’s Kitchen Drop? How long will your mind remain at peace when I have you gasping for air in the Irish Deathlock? How long will you be able to keep your new found cool after you awaken to see you’re no longer the IIW International Champion? I’m not really sure, I don’t know you well enough to answer those questions...but maybe you should start thinking about them. Get yourself prepared for that feeling of being nothing more than a failure on Sunday night. Get prepared to embrace that feeling as a part of your reality! See you then, kid.
Cavanagh continues to stare into the camera as the scene briefly cuts to static prior to reopening to the same prison building we began. This time, John Cavanagh and the rest of the inmates are treated to a pleasant spring New York day. The sun shines on the different groups of inmates sprawled about across the yard--mostly divided up by racial lines, an unfortunate reality of prison life for the majority of inmates. John walks alone, his chest puffed, his head held high--he was part of a long tradition of Irish-Americans from the streets of Hell’s Kitchen that had found part of their lifetime spent as a guest of New York State. The thoughts running through his mind varied--he would never be that reckless again, it was funny that he and his father were now running concurrent sentences, he hoped his brother and mother wouldn’t miss him too much, he hope that his grandmother would still be alive when he came home...a million thoughts per minute. The Irishman’s thought process had been running so rapidly that he missed a conversation that occurred just off to the side of him between a group of African-American inmates clustered together on a set of benches. The group was comprised of seven inmates one of them was much larger than the others…
Larger Inmate: ”Ain’t that whiteboy that Cavanagh kid.”
A smaller inmate in the group stood up from the bleachers that they had been resting on.
Smaller Inmate: ”Yeah, look at that bird, walkin’ the yard like he the head nigga in charge or some shit.”
An elder man, seated atop of the benches, motioned towards the two men who had been speaking.
Older Inmate: ”Y’all young niggas so up on this cat, maybe y’all shoud be the ones to introduce him to the peckin’ order ‘round this bitch.”
The two younger men nodded and began to walk towards Cavanagh, who’s back has now been turned to them as he continued his walk through the yard.
Older Inmate: ”Y’all other fools pay attention. Somebody gon’ learn a lesson. Either that white boy gon’ learn to not walk around here like he the one or our two brothers gonna learn that white boy ain’t sweet.”
The smaller of the two inmates that had chased after John pushed John from behind, hoping to catch him off guard and push him to the ground--it almost worked. John caught himself wobbling and turned with a cold stare in his eyes to see the two would be perpetrators.
Smaller Inmate: ”You finna get laced up, punk ass bitch!”
The larger of the two men swung towards Cavanagh but Cavanagh ducked and drove his shoulder into the man’s midsection and then he swung his forehead into the man’s nose. Blood began to pour from the larger inmate's nose as he fell to the ground holding his face. Cavanagh turned to the smaller man whose face had become overcome with fear. The smaller man swang, what else was he going to do--run away? This was a prison! The punch was deflected by John who tackled the smaller man to the ground and began to lace right hands into his face. Whistles began to blow, the sound of sirens began to fill the afternoon air, the larger man began to get to his feet and regain his footing while the smaller man shouted for help. The rest of the group began to charge as John pulled himself off of the smaller man. He looked towards the larger man, his face covered in a combination of blood, tears and mucus, John waved him on as other African and Caucasian inmates began to charge towards the brawl but then it happened...canisters landed all around, gas filled the air, inmates began to fall. The diverse group of felons crawled around the ground, coughing and gasping for air as correction officers equipped with gas masks and non-lethal arms began to fill the yard and zip tie different inmates. One officer grabbed John by the shoulder, turning him onto his stomach and putting him in zip ties before telling him…
Corrections Officer: ”I knew you were going to be a problem, all of you West Side Irish are! Your ass is going to solitary, along with these two dumb monkeys!”
The scene cut to static with John coughing and muttering “fuck”.
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Post by The Celtic Club on Jul 10, 2021 0:07:48 GMT
The darkness filled the room, it was so dark that you couldn’t make out anything—you could hear something though. The patter of a small animal moving across a hardened surface. Suddenly a beam of light shot across the room from a small slit. John Cavanagh’s face can be faintly made out, his face now covered in facial hair, this must have been solitary confinement and it was clear that the young John Cavanagh had to have been in here for a few days by now, if not a week. The patter sound? Oh, that was John’s new roommate—a rat that stood as a deer in headlights. A hand reached in and dropped a meal tray.
Corrections Officer: “Time to eat up, shithead.”
John Cavanagh: ”How much longer are you pieces of shit going to keep me locked up in here?
Corrections Officer: ”That’s up to the warden but with an attitude like that…I’d say you just earned yourself at least one more day. Have a good one fucko!”
John Cavanagh: ”I’m not some fucking animal at a zoo you cock sucker!”
Cavanagh’s hand reached out quickly prior to the light disappearing, he clenched the rat in his hands and as if he were standing on a mound at the Cathedral in The Bronx the kinetic energy built up in his shoulder and arm sent the rat hurtling towards the steel door. Thwack! The rat fell to the top of Cavanagh’s meal tray.
John Cavanagh: ”Fucking rat…fucking pig…fucking shit food.”
The Irishman’s face couldn’t be made out in the darkness but he could be heard breathing. His rate of breath increased, it was clear that the man wasn’t enjoying his time inside of what has become colloquially known as “the hole”. The screen remained dark but the breathing subsided, white lettering appeared that read “three days later”.
Blinding light flooded the screen before the camera honed in on John Cavanagh moving backward and shutting his eyes, trying to cover his eyes with his hands to stop the intense pain from the light entering his pupils.
Corrections Officer: ”Hey, rat killer, guess what? Today is your lucky day asshole, back to Gen Pop!”
As John’s eyes began to open the arms of two different corrections officers reach into the confinement area and pull John up to his feet. They begin to walk him away as the scene cuts to static.
The scene reopened to the interior of The Blarney Stone Irish Pub in Hell’s Kitchen, New York. The blinds on the pub were closed but a trace amount of light creeped through signifying it was day time. The walls were decorated with maps of Ireland, mugshots of some of the neighborhoods more infamous residents, Celtic lettering, Irish whiskey signs—whatever tacky, stereotypical Irish bar things you can imagine it was probably on the wall. The pub looked outdated, it was clear that this place was not a popping spot for the yuppies that had moved into Hell’s Kitchen. What a perfect symbol of the past in a neighborhood, and Burro for that matter, that was clearly on the rise. In the center of the pub, seated at a table, sat John Cavanagh. Cavanagh was joined by four items—a joint, an ashtray, a Jameson bottle and a shot glass that had already been filled with some delicious amber liquid.
John Cavanagh: ”You know, they say if we don’t learn from the past then we are doomed to repeat it, right? Now, maybe I wasn’t brought up with the best formal education and maybe I wasn’t exactly the apple of the faculty’s eye when I attended school in New York City’s public system but one thing is for sure—all the time that the State said I owed them…it allowed me plenty of time to catch up academically as well as reflect on myself and the actions that have gotten me to the point I’m at in life. Whether those lessons learned showed I was on the right path or not it didn’t matter—I always learned from the past. I learned from the mistakes of others and the mistakes I’ve made myself. I’ve grown in this industry from a nobody wrestling on the independent circuits of the East Coast to a World Champion in promotions recognized around the world…and then, after all that was taken away from me and I was the State’s guest for my second time? I found myself back on the Indies again, only this time I had the knowledge and some name power to back me up. I transferred my rage and aggression that I had pent up inside due to MY situation and spun it into a positive by wrestling my way back to a worldwide promotion. I mean, unfortunately I have to travel to England—and we all know how us Irish and them Brits mix when we’re in close quarters. Without getting into that history…I’ve already filled all of you in on a little history between the Cavanagh clan and the Debonair family. If you want to know the pain staking details go find the video but to summarize it all—I beat Tyler’s father, his father joined me and wound up basically stealing my championship due to my mistake. Well, that’s the REALLY short version, now fast-forwarded about a dozen years and here stands Johnnie Cav ready to take the IIW International Championship from the hands of Tyler Debonair. Huh, I guess we could call this Tupac and Janet because this is some kind of poetic justice. What did I learn from my interactions with the last generation of the Debonair family? They’re not stupid, they’re conniving and they’re slippery little bastard, they’ll slip right out of your grasp once you have them if you’re not careful. Fucking shame this place is crawling with them.”
John looked to the joint in front of him. He nodded his head up and down and reached into his jeans pocket to produce a Bic lighter, before lighting his joint he placed the lighter on the table.
John Cavanagh: ”Tyler boy, its pretty easy to see that you aren’t studying history. You aren’t looking back to your childhood or even taking the time to search YouTube to see the backstory on Johnnie Cav. Thinking someone like myself would ever forget a sin committed against him. At some point, Johnnie Cav always gets one up on the man that bested him because I’m a miserable bastard who’s got the patience of a high school teacher when he needs it. I may not have the opportunity to let my vengeance reign down on Freddie Boy but his offspring will do just fine. Taking the dreams and all of the momentum that second generation piece of shit has gained and making them crumble before the world on pay-per-view is going to more than makeup for the void that I’ve left unfilled all of these years. Its a crying shame, for Tyler’s sake anyway, that he was born with all of this potential but with such a large, ominous black cloud hovering over his head since the moment he decided to step foot into the squared circle. It’s almost like if Tyler chose a different route in life, he might have had it a bit easier. Lord knows that his body wouldn’t be hurting as much on July 11th, 2021 in this alternate universe. Too bad for the young champion, that isn’t his reality.”
Cavanagh chuckled for a moment before returning to the camera.
John Cavanagh: ”I can’t help but sit back and laugh as I listen to some of the nonsense that has come out of our champion’s mouth. It seems is if you’re the example of a walking oxymoron, Tyler. You sit there and preach about the importance of family and yet you and your father barely have a line of communication open? You have a trio of bitches—two happen to share chromosomes and one you happen to stick your dick into and a man you call a “brother”. That’s your family? That’s what you think is going to save you from watching the summit you’ve reached fade further and further away as you plummet back to the Earth? The Kindred is going to be your saving grace yet my brother and Andy Boy are holding ME back?! Kid, I don’t know if its drugs you’re taking or drugs you need to be taking, maybe its the paint chip Cheerios you eat for breakfast in the morning or maybe your father dropped you on your head one too many times—NOTHING holds back Johnnie Cav! The thought of my brother holding me back is one of the most ludicrous statements I’ve ever heard…we have been Tag Team Champions over and over again and now he teams with Andy. Andy? He’s just damn near three hundred pounds of muscle, adrenaline and mayhem. How the fuck are either of those pieces holding me back? Johnnie Cav has been in the IIW for all of two months…I’ve wrestled one, count ‘em ONE, tag team match and I’m challenging for the number two championship in the promotion. So, Tyler, I ask again, how the fuck are Trigger and Andy holding me back?!”
The man from Hell’s Kitchen looked down to his shot glass, he thought about the sweet taste the Jameson would offer and the warming affect the water of life would provide. John took the shot glass and gulped down his shot, he slammed the shot glass down to the table.
John Cavanagh: ”Jamie always does right by me.”
Cavanagh reached back down to the Jameson bottle, he tilted it and poured himself a second shot.
John Cavanagh: ”Tyler Debonair can sit around and try to paint a pretty picture for himself. He can try to convince himself, his fucktoy, his sister, his “brother” and his aunty of whatever little fairytales his juvenile mind can conjure up. Tyler can try to persuade the entire world thats willing to listen that you’ve got this entire situation under control. Oh, I’m sure you’d love to tell yourself that you’ve got this all under control. Just like you had your mark status under control at World’s Collide. Cat had your tongue and you just sitting out there with a goofy smile and your newly won championship like a little kid at Christmas time. It was Osh Vaughan’s parting gift to the IIW Universe that John Cavanagh joined the locker room and your “goosebumps” and “chills” only further confirms that. Never meet your idols? Listen to me kid, I was never someone that anyone should idol. I’m as Machiavellian as they come—the ends justify the means and come hell or high water I will use whatever means I need to employ in order to walk out of Explosion as the first and last Canadian Champion as well as the second International Champion! Why? Because, just like you said, I am the SAME John Cavanagh that I have ALWAYS been. I am the toughest son of a bitch you’re ever going to tie up with Tyler so you better be ready for this shit show that you’re about to put yourself through on Sunday. And then? When the smoke clears and our battle that will go down in history as one of the greatest meetings in IIW…John Cavanagh will show you exactly why you just ain’t ready to compete on my level yet.”
Cavanagh looked down to his Jameson, he thought about it but his mind told him “not yet”.
John Cavanagh: ”Tyler I’m glad you’ve gotten over your initial state of awe that I left you in. What fun would it be to go into the ring against someone who looks at you like you’re some god-like figure—I don’t want to lead a lamb to slaughter. I’m not in the livestock industry Tyler, you fucking wish I was though. I’m in the business of hurting people for money, I’m not complicated, I’m a rather simple man. Hm, a simple man…isn’t that what you tried to tell yourself to afford yourself a momentary sense of comfort? You said you realized I was just a man. Well, you’re right I am a man…
John took the metal cap of the Jameson bottle off the top of the bottle. Why? His shot glass was still full. John looked at the bottle cap and chuckled before repeatedly driving the metal edge of the cap into his forehead until a river of crimson liquid began to seep out of his newly formed laceration. John picked up his freshly lit John, took a pull and inhaled. He held it for a moment before exhaling.
John Cavanagh: ”You’re right you pathetic little mark! I am a god damned man just like everyone else, I breath the same fucking air that you do, every cell of my being is composed of forty-six chromosomes and my veins bleed…that I just made abundantly clear. You may have been in awe of “the great John Cavanagh” as you so appropriately put it because you remember me from your childhood. Problem for you, you ain’t a little boy anymore kid. You laced up those boots and stepped in between those ropes like a man and now the man that you once looked up to is going to destroy what little you have just as quickly as you attained it. We both bleed Tyler—and if you’re anything like you’re father inside of those ropes we both probably will bleed…we aren’t different other than skill level and as I’ve already made clear as day I am the superior wrestler. You think I seriously meant when I asked what I needed to do to get recognized around IIW? Hate to break this to you kid but that question was rhetorical. You’re now beginning to fall a peg or two down on the intelligence meter—love Andy Boy to death but he’s got the same problem of taking rhetorical questions as legitimate inquiries. Maybe when I start making your head roll around the mat you’ll gain a few IQ points. You really need the help in that department if you truly believe I should lock the Canadian Championship up in a shadow box and display it at home as some kind of a trophy or conversation piece.”
John chuckled, he couldn’t fathom how Tyler thought the Canadian Championship was such a valuable piece of hardware.
John Cavanagh: ”While the championship holds value to me as I was the first and only champion, regardless of how bad Jonny C tried to take the championship from me, its not like the FCPW was my first rodeo kid. You know damn well that Johnnie Cav has had plenty of moments with those lights beaming down on him and championship gold hoisted high above his head for the world to see. There are so many championships I’ve been able to hold onto throughout the years that dropping one isn’t going to be anything more than a teardrop in a bucket full of water. Why do I put it on the line against you? Well, let’s face it, it is property of the IIW and maybe the powers that be figured it would be a good idea to just make the lineages one altogether. Maybe Bob Mitchell just didn’t like you and while seeing the payday you mentioned he also saw a way to publicly embarrass you, destroy your family’s legacy and probably hurt your feelings a little bit and get his new International Championship in the hands of a man that can actually MAKE that championship rather than some fool who is merely being MADE by the championship.”
The One Man Dynasty reached back down to the table. Johnnie picked up his shot glass and took his shot of Jameson before pouring himself another.[/I[
John Cavanagh: ”Poor naive, arrogant little shit you are Tyler. You actually referenced that clusterfuck of a tag team match as something that may have made me think you’re someone who can stand on the same playing field as me? I think not, buddy. I’m not underestimating you at all—I’ve stood back, I’ve been watching you and the IIW from Canada and the States, I assessed the threat you provided…I’ve made my judgement and I’m confident I’ve estimate you just perfectly. I’m not walking into Explosion thinking you’ll be some easy push over, on the contrary far from it. I know I will be walking into a war, I know that this match will not be for the feint of heart and I know, that after I defeat you, I will most certainly know that I was in a fight. The only thing is, Tyler, I already realize that for all your talent and all of that potential—you’re just not ready yet, kid. You’re shooting to the stars so fast that the real question you should be asking is…do you have enough fuel to finish the journey? Do you really think that YOU have what it takes to overcome ME?!”
John’s face was overcome with a toothy grin, he laughed for a moment and shook his head.
John Cavanagh: ”Oh, what’s that expression, Tyler? Oh yeah, youth is wasted on the young. Tyler Debonair walking around like he’s got a foot long cock because what? You’ve got some family in the locker room? I’ve got that too. You’ve got some championship gold? I’ve got that, I’ve had that, all it means to me now is a bonus in the payday. You’ve got talent? I’ve lost more talent as I’ve aged than you will EVER posses! I don’t need to put your pathetic ass in a wheelchair, hell I don’t even need to injure you this Sunday night. If I win the match with a fucking roll up I’ll be fine with the outcome—why? Because winning the match and taking the first championship you’ve EVER had will do so much more damage to your psyche than breaking your leg could ever do to your physical. See, Tyler, maybe after you get your ass kicking…that is if you put up the fight I think you’re going to put up and if you take this beating like the man I believe you CAN be…maybe there will be a job for you. Call me Christopher Walken and the IIW is the subway train in King of New York. I’ll let you start as an errand boy—you can run and get my coffee, you can pick up Trigger’s dry cleaning, make sure Andy doesn’t run out of his protein powder…you know you could help out with the less important shit until you prove yourself truly worthy of some of that good old Johnnie Cav wisdom.”
Cavanagh smirks as he looks down towards the table again and takes a thirdshot of Jameson. He pours himself a fourth.
John Cavanagh: Destroy me? Kid you’re crazy. Break a bone, make me taste my own blood, bruise me up real good—sure, that ain’t shit that I haven’t dealt with more times than you’ve had matches. See, that’s the part of this equation that you can’t seem to fully comprehend. You may have the championship, but you do not possess the sufficient power to move me from the center of this industry. You say I think I reside there and that’s because everywhere I go what the fuck do you think happens? I won’t answer that—I’ve already attempted to explain that ad nauseam. At least you must realize it somewhat, you already know I’m going to be the toughest opponent you’ve ever faced off against. I will give it to you though, kid, you definitely inherited your father’s gift for talking a big game. I mean, shit, you even think you’re going to be the toughest opponent I’ve ever faced. What are you kidding me? Maybe toughest for the Canadian Championship and thats only because it was basically just Jonny C who had a shot at taking it from me but that’s even up for debate. You really do need to stop jumping the gun, you called me arrogant maybe you should re-evaluate your outlook on your own god damned self before you worry about me. I’ve proved over and over again that I am one of the toughest bastards walking this Earth you’ve won exactly one tournament and now you think you’re some kind of wrestling legend. Get back to me in ten, fifteen years and let me know how your career panned out before you start calling yourself my toughest opponent yet. Shit, your father should bend you over his knee and smack your ass until that son of a bitch bleeds for even insulting his legacy like that. Shit, I’m half hoping Jonny C starts bitching as only Jonny C can over you assuming you’re better than him as well.”
John paused. He had fond memories of tackling Jonny C and his out of control mouth. It was always satisfying to see the look on Jonny’s face after Jonny had failed to defeat him.
John Cavanagh: ”This truly will be an international affair. A match for the IIW International Championship and the FCPW Canadian Championship between two Americans in the fucking United Kingdom. Huh, that’s like the ice cream, the hot fudge, the whipped cream and the cherry on top all in one swoop. Tyler, my boy, I gotta be completely honest with you—I think you and I are going to truly steal the show. I don’t see any other match on this card that is going to have the intensity and the emotion that you and I will have going into Explosion this Sunday night. I guess me setting the scope on you was a good thing for you after all—you’re going to get to brush up inside of the ring with a god damned legend! You’re welcome for that, you ungrateful little brat! Adios, pinche marica!”
John reached down to the lighter and joint and fired up the good old encendedor as he placed the joint to his lips as the scene cut to static momentarily before reopening to our young John Cavanagh walking along the mess hall inside of the Hell’s Kitchen resident’s current home, Clinton Correctional Facility. John walked through the large room filled with lined tables and inmates. John searches around, looking for a spot to sit—he hadn’t really had much of an opportunity to meet anyone—the guy had been in Clinton for exactly nine days…one outside to get into a fight, seven in solitary and now day number nine back in general population. A bald-headed white male motions towards John so John takes it upon himself to take the invitation to sit down.
Bald Headed Man: ”That was quite the fucking show you put on out there.”
A much smaller, sickly looking man with long, straggly hair chimed in from a few people down.
Sickly Man: ”I’ll fucking say! That was a display of pride and power if I ever see one!”
The bald headed man looks at Cavanagh—John could tell what this was all about, he could see that this bald headed guy was analyzing John and trying to see if he could detect any fault or weakness. The Irishman knew the drill, don’t show fear—eye contact was a key in moments like these…it didn’t matter how nervous you were, if you kept eye contact and maintained composure on the outside many people would think twice about starting an altercation.
Sickly Man: ”You don’t speak much, huh Hell’s Kitchen?”
John paused for a moment, he had to think his next move out carefully—he was stuck here for roughly another three years of his life and God knew how long some of these mutts would be keeping him company during that stay.
Bald Headed Man: ”So, what did you say to the big ape before you broke his nose?”
The young John Cavanagh continued his moment of thought—he didn’t come to prison to play this race bullshit…he just came to serve his time, get back to the streets and back to earning.
John Cavanagh: ”I didn’t say shit. If people leave me alone, then I got no beef.”
Sickly Man: ”You mean you didn’t want to give them boys a whoopin’?”
Cavanagh sucked his front teeth, it was a habit he had picked up—his mother always said it was “obnoxious”, it probably made him continue the behavior.
John Cavanagh: ”Not until they forced me to defend myself. Like I said, if people leave me alone I got no beef.”
The bald headed man produced a loud snort as he sucked mucus back into his sinuses.
Bald Headed Man: ”Well, coming from your family’s type of background, you show know that’s not how this place works. People like us, we gotta stick together.”
Cavanagh looked down towards his food and took a deep breath, now he knew there was no positive way to end this conversation.
John Cavanagh: ”People like us? Man, I don’t know you and you ain’t from my neighborhood so what exactly do you mean “people like us”?”
The sickly man raises his arm and points at his forearm, a barren, pale, milky white forearm.
Sickly Man: ”The right type of people need to stick together. You should have a little more respect when you’re talking to a shot caller.”
Bald Headed Man: ”No need for that Snake. Hell’s Kitchen is just going to have to understand that we rushed to his aid out there on the yard—one of our guys got a shiv stuck in his gut…you owe us, boy!”
The Bald Headed Man put his arm around John and smiled.
John Cavanagh: ”Owe you? Last I checked I took care of those two and you guys decided to incite a race riot while you could.”
The group of white inmates laugh as the bald headed shot caller takes his arm from around John and his smile vanishes.
Bald Headed Man: ”You got two options, kid. Be with your own and realize you owe us or be on your own…”
John immediately sprung up and picked up his tray. He took a step away from the table…
Bald Headed Man: ”Leave now and you’re on your own. No color for you. Anybody at this table take care of you whenever they want.”
John looked at the table, he looked around the mess hall as eyes began to turn to the Hell’s Kitchen Irishman who had stood up from the white supremacist group. John looked at his tray and the only thought that entered his mind was “well, if that’s how it’s gotta be then fuck it.” John cocked bag and struck the bald headed shot caller with his meal tray and began to lace him with punches, John got three in as blood flew from the shot caller’s mouth but the strength of the other inmates overwhelmed him. The other groups, African-Americans and Latinos they all stood and watched as John did his best to fight off the group of men but the numbers began to overwhelm him. They got him to the ground, he covered his head as the men struck with kicks and punches. The correction officers got into the mix as the camera focused on a middle-aged Latino man.
Middle Aged Latino: ”Ay Pedro! Mira a este blanco loco!”
A bald headed Latino man turned around from his table to finally look at what the commotion was, his eyes widened as he saw the brawl that was happening in front of him.
Pedro: ”Puta madre!”
Middle Aged Latino: ”Que paso hermano?”
Pedro: ”Lo conozco.”
The scene cut to static as Pedro and the entirety of the mess hall looked on as the correction officers began to disperse the group that had surrounded John.
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Post by Tyler Debonair on Jul 10, 2021 11:06:54 GMT
***We open our scene just as the sun is rising over Manchester. The early morning rays are piercing through the slight opening between the curtains in Tyler and Steph’s bedroom. Tyler opens his eyes and rubs his face slowly, paying close attention to his eyes. He sits up and walks toward the bathroom, stripping down as he does so and closing the door behind him, we hear the shower water begin to rush through the pipes.
Twenty minutes later and Tyler walks out of his house dressed in a formal three-piece suit, his hair gelled and wearing a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. He walks the ten minutes to a big stone building, in the middle of the town centre, with the words “NATIONWIDE” on the front. He steps inside, removing his shades and looking around as a woman approaches him*** Woman: ”Hi there, can I help you?!”
Tyler: ”Hi there… Trish is it? Yeah my name is Tyler Debonair, I’m here for a meeting with Ricky. It’s about opening an account with your fine financial establishment…”
Trish: ”Right, well then… Let me just go get Ricky for you and we’ll see what we can do, shall we? Although I actually think he went on a break.”
Tyler: ”Well, you know what, Trish? Let’s you and I go sit down and discuss this if you’re free? Ricky can grab the next commission on the table considering he’s taken a break when we had a meeting scheduled.”
Trish: ”That’s absolutely fine by me! If you’ll just follow me over to this desk?”
***Tyler follows Trish over to an empty workspace with a PC sat on top and tons of files. She asks Tyler to take a seat and after about two minutes of working away on the computer she looks up with a smile on her face*** Trish: ”Okay, Mr. Debonair… I understand you’ve just moved here from America is that right?”
Tyler: ”That‘s right, Trish, but please call me Tyler… Mr. Debonair is my father.”
Trish: ”Okay, Tyler I can do that! So why is it you’re looking to open an account with us here?”
Tyler: ”Well back home in the states, I bank with Citigroup. But now that I’m living here in the good ol’ UK, I wanted to switch to something a little more “close to home” so to speak.”
Trish: ”That makes perfect sense and we’re more than happy to accommodate you here! So, what kind of opening deposit are you looking to make, Tyler?”
***Tyler smiles as he reaches into his suit and pulls out an envelope, which he hands over to Trish. She opens the envelope and takes out a single slip of folded paper, unfolding it and almost audibly gasping as she reads what’s on the paper*** Trish: ”Oh my… Well, what can I say?? Do you have the relevant documents and identification? Then we can get started…”
***Tyler reaches into his suit again, pulling another envelope out and tipping the contents from it. A couple of bills, his passport and something else drops onto the desk in front of Trish who nods and begins clacking away at the keyboard as the scene slowly fades into darkness…***
+++++++++
***The scene reopens inside what appears to be an empty office block. Tyler is sat at a table on the eighth floor, the building itself is sixteen. Sat next to him is Asher Greenberg and opposite them is a man in a suit, bald and wearing glasses, his name is Roger Spencer and he is the former owner of this property. On the table sits his suitcase, which he closes after Tyler hands him a piece of paper he’s just signed. All three stand and Tyler shakes Roger Spencer’s hand*** Roger: ”Pleasure doing business with you, Tyler. There’s an internal mailbox by the front reception area, the deeds and keys are inside.”
Tyler: ”You too, Mr. Spencer. Thank you very much.”
Roger: ”We’ll sort out the other properties in the coming days. But until then, I bid you both adieu…”
***Roger Spencer turns around with his briefcase and leaves via the stairwell. Tyler and Asher sit back down again and Tyler looks out of the window*** Asher: ”Well that’s one thing done… You sure you want to do the other? As my pops said, it’s an expensive move.”
Tyler: ”I’m aware but as I told your dad, for what they’ve done, it’s worth it. Now… Mercedes is your fiancée, Asher. You’re okay with this?”
Asher: ”Hey, she’s your sister… Whatever you feel is best. Business is business right?”
Tyler: ”And you’re all clued in? You know where to bring her tonight? And I’ll deal with Casie”
***Asher nods as the two stand and shake hands, then he turns and begins to head out down the same stairwell that Roger Spencer just left a while ago. Tyler sticks around for a bit longer before walking toward the stairwell then stopping, turning toward a corridor next to the stairwell and coming to an elevator and pressing the down button…
A minute later and he’s down in the foyer of the building looking around. It’s plush made of glass with white leather furniture. Tyler approaches the internal mailbox and opens it up, pulling out the deeds and building keys. He takes a small tour around the bottom floor, checking all the rooms, bathrooms and so on. He then walks out of the building, locking it up and taking his sunglasses out as he does so. He then turns and begins heading back towards home, as we slip into the ether…***
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***The scene comes into focus in a very dimly lit room. It’s more like mood lighting than anything else. On one of the tables in the room sits a lava lamp, fitted into the wall on the other side is a giant fish tank, housing a couple of Giant Gourami as well as a few Angel fish and a handful of Barbs… As we proceed to move around the room we double take and pan back, for sat in what appears to be a black gaming chair, almost invisible to the naked eye, sits Tyler Debonair. He’s dressed from head to toe in black, sneakers, jeans and a t-shirt which reads “Family 101” on the front. He’s leaning almost all the way back with one leg crossed over the other*** Tyler: ”You know it’s been five years to the week, that I was committed into the Resnick Hospital, in Los Angeles… Five years since I had some mental breakdown over things that have gone on in my life and almost killed a man in the ring, almost certainly costing him his career… Five years that I sat in that place trying to understand what went wrong and make my peace with the world and do you know something? I have made my peace, most definitely… I’ve had to come to terms with a lot of things that have gone on up to this point and I’ve had to make amends, it definitely wasn’t easy, but it has been the best thing, both for me and everybody around me…
But someone who doesn’t seem to have been able to make amends, to make his peace, is John Cavanagh. Either that, or he doesn’t much care to do so, or feel he needs to. John probably feels he’s most at peace when he’s destroying another man’s livelihood or career… John probably feels most comfortable and happy when he’s cheating some poor sucker out of everything he’s worked for and earned. John Cavanagh is the kind of guy who gets off on crushing someone’s very hopes and dreams. A young lad for example who used to watch him week in and week out, who after his dad, used to model his very ethic on. And yeah I’ve said it before now and I’ll say it again; this is my own fault and I’m perfectly fine with taking the responsibility.
The funniest thing here also, is that John will no doubt act like he either doesn’t remember any of what I’m saying or I’m too irrelevant for him to have even given it a second thought, because you see… John Cavanagh has what we like to call… Selective memory! You see I’ve heard him speaking out about what’s to come when he and I lock up in the ring at Explosion. I’ve heard him pass the buck and try to absolve himself from any culpability on the topic of our title versus title match and blame whatever happens on my dad and I’ve got to say I’m a little disappointed in you Johnny, not shocked by any stretch, but definitely disappointed.”
***Tyler uncrosses his leg and leans forward slightly in the chair, taking a deep breath and sighing. He creases his top lip under the bottom one and raises his eyebrows as if he’s about to make a clicking sound with his teeth but stops*** Tyler: ”John likes to talk about what happened back in another promotion, with my dad… But the thing is, John likes to tell it his way, the word according to Cav, the way the story should be told in his mind! I mean he said something about how he led this and he ran that, John likes to gaslight because he’s pretty sure people will just let the Cav-facts of the situation breeze over them, but he forgets that there is someone here who has personal ties with his days in that promotion… Someone who was there for every stretch of the time he’s recounting, me… He talks about my dad not being ‘a loyal soldier’ to their little group and yet the way I remember it, they were both equal Generals… You said it yourself too, Cav, what would things have been like if my father had just said yes sir, no sir, shame that isn’t it, John?
I need to ask you though, Cav… Do you really give a damn what happened over a decade ago, with my dad? Do you care that The Coalition crumbled the minute he left you? Of course you do, that’s the whole point isn’t it, John? You think back to what could have been and realise that the the one person who was actually holding it altogether, was my dad and it eats you up inside, it burns you and it tears you apart… You really think my dad was worried about what pieces of pie he could have had with you when he was baking so many pies after he left FcW he may as well have owned a bakery… And it makes me laugh when you talk about the Ladder from Hell match John because I remember that match still like it was yesterday and despite what you say about my dad high-tailing it, the way I remember it you guys were in cahoots and dropping that belt for him was a Coalition insurance policy… I’m also wondering if you see the richness in you crying about something you claim my dad did, that you absolutely would have done if the tables were turned.
Why do you keep snapping like a rabid dog, John? We both know that you’re just another thug out of the same neighbourhood I am. You’re from the same neck of the woods my family raised me in… And you remind me way too much of those kids I used to come across in school, all the white-washing of events, all the mind games, where you press so hard with your version of reality that you make people question their own sanity… But that doesn’t work with me, John. You see I may have spent the last five years in a mental institution, but that don’t mean my brain doesn’t work, hoss. If anything my mind is cleansed and more in sync with the goings on in this world than most, the cheap parlour tricks don’t work with me… But honestly I’ve got to know, John… Why on Earth are you living in the past? What are you hoping to gain by discussing my dad exactly? It’s not him you’re stepping into the ring with, it’s me! And honestly… Aside from the talent, I’m nothing like my father. So whatever it is you prepared yourself for in terms of facing me, forget it all and start again…”
***Tyler leans over and grabs a water bottle, which he drinks from without paying attention to anything around him. He puts it back down and leans back into the chair again*** Tyler: ”Johnny, honestly, you think way too highly of yourself hoss… Tyler Debonair would feel “more comfortable” if you hadn’t come through the door? Please, I’m as cool as a cucumber and as cold as ice, again I’m not your typical opponent, Johnny, I’m not one of these green, fresh out of training camp kids! And the thing is I’m sure you’re not stupid enough to roll with that thought process and yet you’re still running with it? Poor showing John, very poor showing. It also makes me laugh, John, that you’re telling me that you’re taking things easy on me, are you sure it’s not just that I’m not what you were expecting? Is it surely not that you’re realising your usual mind games aren’t working and so you’re flustering and blustering about what you’re going to next? You’re not getting inside my head, Cav and that is searing through you like the worlds worst migraine isn’t it? I mean what was it you’d said? Half the battle is won if you can get into someone’s head? Sorry John… And you’re right, it can be a nightmare for someone when you’re living rent free inside their head and of course you’d know all about that because you turned up at Worlds Collide, you turned up during my first International Title defence and both times all I wondered was, why is John Cavanagh watching me in the ring? I mean to be honest John, I just thought you were scouting me for The Celtic Club. I was trying to figure out how to break it to you that I wasn’t sure how much of the old Irish blood I had in me… You claim I’m just keeping the International Title warm for you, John? You’re aware of what happened to the last guy who made that claim aren’t you? How about you to ask your new buddy, Zack Steele… Ask him about his bitter disappointment at thinking he was taking that belt away from me and waking up the next morning with little more than a bruised body and a bruised ego. But John I’ve got to admit that I’m actually glad you’re here for this, as I said you’re probably going to be my biggest challenge for a while and I really needed to prove myself more so thank you for this, all of it.
I’d love to know though John, what it is that’s happening in your head, that you feel you’re currently doing me some kind of favour? Has it maybe ever occurred to you that I’ve been just purely ignoring you and allowing you go about doing… Whatever it is you think you’re doing. You seem to have some complex mixed with a passive-aggressive nature, I’ve come across people like you before John and let’s just say those people aren’t going around with that complex anymore… Why? Because they were rescued, they were saved, by me. I’ve not had the chance to save anybody in a while, John, you may just be the next one who needs it… The real question though would be whether or not you deserve to be saved. And no, that’s not the same as wanting to be saved, let me clarify that for you now, hoss. You asked whether I believed you skate by, due to the assistance of others? No John, I’ve known you long enough to know how much of a bastard in the ring you are, how talented and strong you are and I maintain you’re one of the best in this business even now to this day, which is why Explosion is going to be such an experience for me…
Another thing you said, Cav, which you were spot on about is that going in to our match, I’ll be the underdog… You’re damn right about that but you know something? I expected nothing less. Here I am, Tyler Debonair, straight out of a psych unit in Los Angeles to a Wrestling promotion in England… Having had eight matches so far, haven’t lost one yet and currently sit on top of the IIW International platform. And you’re right, nobody I’ve faced here has been John Cavanagh, none of them hold a candle to the oh so magnificent “One Man Dynasty”, “The King of Kings” so on and on… But you know something Johnny boy? Come Explosion, you’re just going to be that guy standing in the opposite corner, you’re going to be the challenger, that’s all… Sure you’re still going to be big bad John Cavanagh but what else is there to say, hoss? I do find your arrogance charming though, Cav, that way you beat your chest like King Kong or flex your muscles like Arnie at a lifting competition! All that hot air you blow too… And whilst I know full well you’ve got the tools to back it up, the sheer audacity you have to stand there and just assume I’m not coming at you from the side, gives me a little chuckle.”
***Tyler takes another few mouthfuls from his water bottle, before standing up from the chair and slowly walking around the room. He stops at the fish tank and slowly runs his fingers across the glass as a Giant Gourami swims by. He looks up again without removing his hand*** Tyler: ”Beautiful aren’t they, fish? So elegant in their ways, so calming too. Did you know that a lot of tattoo parlours have tanks in them so that those of a nervous disposition who come to get ink done, have something to mollify them, whilst they’re sat in that chair. I know some dental surgeries have them too, me? I like to just sit here sometimes and watch them… I used to own Red-bellied Piranhas, the way they’d swim all peacefully but then once they saw prey, wow… And that’s sort of like me, John. You see I’ve been biding my time with this, because I didn’t know when it was coming but I knew it was and I just kept my head down, mouth shut, ears open and eyes forward and I waited patiently and hey presto here we are. Let me ask you John, have you ever felt a true awakening? Have you ever really felt Satori? Given as you’re the same hard headed, bull-nosed, arrogant son of a bitch you’ve always been I doubt that very much, so it’s going to be an honour and a privilege to be the one to give you a true sense of being when we’re done with our match. Have you ever felt the transfiguration taking shape during those moments of enlightenment, John? I could be wrong but once again I assume the answer is no, oh it’s going to be so much fun watching the change take shape.
I’m not quite sure you understand yourself, what you’re getting into, John. You tell me to prepare myself for that feeling of being nothing more than a failure, what is it you don’t get about the fact that I was pretty much a failure my entire life, John?? Up until now I’ve done absolutely nothing worth mentioning… But since I set foot in IIW I’ve been following a path, a path that has taken me to where I now sit looking over proceedings and waiting until the moment is right, to push on. You see, you may think that this is all about the IIW International Title, Cav but it’s way more than that, it’s so much more and you need to comprehend that I… I actually have nothing to lose! Sure if you beat me you’ll be the new International Champion, sure if I lose I’ll no longer hold the title, but c'est la vie John… As I’ve always said, it is what it is and I can either stand here worrying sick about what’s to come before getting in the ring with the great John Cavanagh, or I can know my own worth and strength right now, before getting in the ring with the great John Cavanagh. Either way, we’re going to be head to head, toe to toe and knuckle to knuckle at Explosion… So until then just keep wrapping away in your mind those ways you’re going to put me down, John… Keep having Andy and Trigger hyping you up as if you’ve got no chance of losing this match, because I like it like that….”
***Tyler walks straight toward our view and continues walking as the view gets darker and darker, the scene slowly dissolving into nothingness…
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…We reopen on Tyler sat in a car, outside a pub on the corner of a Manchester street. The Lock and Key, it’s called… He watches as several patrons enter and exit the building, before picking up his cellphone and hitting a saved number from his contacts. He waits a while before someone on the other end picks up*** Tyler: ”Hey, Casie, it’s Tyler. Are you busy? No? Good… Listen there’s a quaint little pub about five minutes from The Courthouse, called The Lock and Key. Come and meet me for a drink I need to discuss some things with you, then I’ve got something I need to show you. Ten? Sure I’ll see you then.”
***Tyler presses the hang up button and drops the phone onto the passenger seat. A smirk crosses his face as he leans forward on the steering wheel again to get a good look at the entrance of The Locke and Key, as we fade - to - black!!***
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Post by The Celtic Club on Jul 10, 2021 21:02:50 GMT
The scene opened to a mahogany desk and zoomed out to show a man with salt and pepper hair, early fifties, in a navy suit smoking a cigar and seated at the desk. Across from him sat our young John Cavanagh clad in the most fashionable orange jumpsuit you’ve ever seen, a pair of handcuffs conjoined his two hands in front of him and two corrections officers sat to either side. John’s lip was bloody, the right side of his face had begun to swell, and the blood that gave his jumpsuit some red accents—one couldn’t be certain if it was his, someone else’s or a mixture.
Warden: ”Mr. Cavanagh. I see that you’ve been a guest of my facility for a span of three weeks and you’ve already partaken in two major infractions for fighting, one of which has already landed you a seven day term in solitary confinement. May I ask you, why do you continue to fight?”
The wounded warrior’s head cocked, he hadn’t expected a question rather just a teeming out of sorts.
John Cavanagh: ”Why do I fight? Maybe one of these two should have told you that both times people started shit with me.”
Warden: ”The specific of who started with who don’t interest me. Mother always told me, it takes two to tango and with that in mind I’m inclined to think that you may need to begin playing a little more nicely with others Mr. Cavanagh.”
John Cavanagh: ”If people would just leave me the fuck alone then I could just do my fucking time and get the fuck outta here and outta your hair.”
The warden smiled, this was his job and profession—none of the inmates were truly in his hair, they were his inventory so to speak.
Warden: ”Well, since your own people and the folks of the darker persuasion have already singled you out I think I have no other alternative than to offer you protective custody.”
John’s eyes lit up—what would the people of the neighborhood say if the son of Ryan Cavanagh was sitting in protective custody within a month of entering Clinton?
John Cavanagh: ”P.C.? Punk City? All due respect sir, you got a better shot at getting a double team blowjob from these two assholes.”
Thwack! One of the corrections officer’s hands smacked against the back of John’s head—then the other officer did the same.
Corrections Officer: ”I’m sorry about that warden, we’ll taken him back to his cell.”
Warden: ”That’s not necessary. Mr. Cavanagh, I would assume with the Irish surname you’re a Catholic, correct?”
John’s right eyebrow raised, he had went through the process and had been raised Catholic but didn’t this guy know he was charged with second degree murder?
John Cavanagh: I’m not practicing…what the fuck does that have to do with anything?
Warden: I saw the religious iconography tattooed on you in your file. Maybe you should see Father Murphy after your time in solitary is over—use this time to embrace Jesus Christ as your Lord and savior!
John rolled his eyes.
John Cavanagh: ”Alright, maybe in another week.”
Warden: ”If only you were so lucky. Mr. Cavanagh, this is your second infraction for fighting—today is the second of June, I will see you on the sixteenth.”
The corrections officers both put an arm under either of John’s arm pits and lifted him to the air as the scene cut to static.
The scene re-opened to John Cavanagh in a pair of basketball shorts, he was on the ground completing push ups. The sweat dripped off of his body which allowed his tattoos to glisten in the room’s lighting as he completed his set. The amount of perspiration made it clear that this was not the beginning of Johnnie’s workout. His AirPods blasted, a faint hip hop instrumental could be made but the name of the song couldn’t be placed. Suddenly, Shannon Riley entered the room.
Shannon Riley: ”John!”
The King of the West Side continued to tear apart his chest as he completed another deep push up. Shannon rolled her eyes and began to flicker the lights on and off. John’s train of thought was broken—he looked up, saw his beautiful woman and popped an AirPod out instantly killing the music.
Shannon Riley: ”Do you have a minute, your highness?”
Shannon giggled, she always loved that she could mock John and he would just take it as playful, if any man had said that same phrase there was a good chance they’d have a sizable fist crunching into their face.
John Cavanagh: ”Never…but for you, always.”
Shannon Riley: ”Oh, how kind of you. I’m getting the bags ready for our flight—are we hitting a red eye again after the show or should I pack more?”
John Cavanagh: ”You know me, I don’t want to be in that country any longer than I need to…but…you do seem like you could use a bit of a vacation.”
Shannon’s eyes lit up. A vacation? That wasn’t a word that her man threw around all too frequently. John was always going of to wrestle or take care of something in the neighborhood with the boys. This was her chance…
Shannon Riley: ”I love the idea! I don’t know if staying in Manchester is really a vacation when you’ll probably hate it.”
John Cavanagh: ”It’s the history between the two nations…”
Shannon smiled.
Shannon Riley: ”I know, I know…I get it. So, how about we go somewhere AFTER Explosion? You could use the vacation too ya know!”
John Cavanagh: ”Time is money. Vacation is a time without making money.”
Shannon walked over to John, who had remained seated on the ground as if to say “when we’re done I gotta finish this workout”. Shannon knelt down in front of him in a squat position and gave him a kiss.
Shannon Riley: ”You will have more than earned this vacation after you win the International Championship from Tyler at Explosion.”
The One Man Dynasty smirked. He was always overly confident in his own abilities when it came to in-ring ability, especially knowing he always had The Celtic Club as an insurance policy, but it never hurt to hear that a beautiful woman believed in you as well.
John Cavanagh: ”Ya know, you’re right. After I take that championship from that knucklehead and officially retire the name of First Class Pro Wrestling once and for all, we could use a little vacation.”
Shannon Riley: ”It is the International Championship after all, let’s make it feel that way! An American winning it in Britain is a start, maybe we can take it down to Nice or Naples or Ibiza or all three—France, Spain and Italy? That’s a truly International Championship babe!”
John’s face had a toothy grin—who wouldn’t want to bring Shannon to the Mediterranean and watch her walk around in a bikini?
John Cavanagh: ”Sound good by me, pack whatever you think we will need. I gotta finish up getting ready to end Tyler’s reign and undefeated streak.”
Shannon bit her bottom lip, turned around and ran off to pack before John changed his mind about the post-Explosion vacation. John reached to his side and grabbed his bottle of SmartWater. John raised it to his lips and consumed nearly half of the bottle before putting it down and turning to the camera.
John Cavanagh: I guess I’m “leeeeeavvviiiing on a jet plaaaaane and don’t know when I’ll be back again.”
John laughed. He talked a big game about needing to be in the gym, needing to be in the neighborhood but he knew in all actuality his body was in more than tip top shape for any age and that his guys could keep the neighborhood in check for a week—shit, they had done it for five years last time he went away.
John Cavanagh: ”Shannon’s right—I really could use a vacation, and God knows that woman deserves one. I guess I’ll be boarding a flight at JFK by the end of the day to head over to Manchester. Then, it’s down to business first—take that International Championship off of Tyler Debonair, maybe party a little bit with Shannon, Trig and Andy that night and then…head off to the Mediterranean. Almost forgot, we definitely are going to have to party once I’m the International Champion and Trig and Andy are the Tag Team Champions. Its almost like these first two months in the IIW were written perfectly for The Celtic Club. It’s always warming to watch as people who claim that you guys have destroyed promotions watch as we once again dominate a promotion, and rather quickly at that as well. Shit, this may be the fastest ascent to the top, or near the top, that we have had so far. It makes sense—Andy is finally starting to figure out how to handle himself consistently in the ring, Trig is finally getting the majority of ring rust off of him and me? Shit, I feel like I’m back in my prime all over again. I feel like its ten years ago and good old Johnnie Cav is on top of the professional wrestling mountain looking down at all of the other lowly challengers that came his way. The majority of those men, I won’t bother mentioning because they have nothing to do with the IIW, but one of those men was my upcoming opponent’s father. I hate to sound like a broken record but it seems as if that’s exactly where this battle between Tyler and I constantly returns to. It’s history, it’s like an old clan rivalry in Ireland—generations upon generations will battle the same fight. If Shannon and I decide its time to have a kid and we had a son, I’m sure Tyler will want to kick his ass in twenty years or so. And if not? My protege, Andy Donahue, he can fight for the Cavanagh name and continue to dominate this generation of Debonairs for the foreseeable future. Wait, wait, I’m getting a little ahead of myself—I ain’t hanging the boots up just yet, that would be far too merciful on Tyler and the rest of the IIW roster.”
John stood to his feet for the first time. The veins on his arms were popping, his chest was inflamed, he looked like he was prepared for one hell of a war.
John Cavanagh: ”Tyler, I’ve sat here and listened to some of the whimsical nonsense that you’ve fed the masses. “Selective memory”, real cute Tyler. I think in all reality you’re the one who’s suffering from delusional thoughts. I can’t blame you really—the events you’re trying to recall happened prior to you hitting puberty and what voids you have, they’ve been filled in by whatever over exaggerations your father placed on his own role in The Coalition. See, Tyler, The Coalition’s foundation was always myself, my brother and shortly after the formation, a tag team by the name of Veritas, maybe you remember seeing Sevrena and Terry “Bam Bam” Williams taking care of business on an episodic basis back then. Your dad, although he wasn’t a push over by any means, he came in a little bit later on. Fred Debonair came in when he realized it was in his best interest because The Coalition had already grown too strong for him to fight it. Your dad and I being “equal generals”? That must have been a nice bedtime story to comfort yourself with as you grew older. Your father was with us but he didn’t stay forever. Need I remind you that when FcW invaded another promotion, it was The Coalition sans Fred Debonair that led the cavalry—and we NEVER played well with others.”
Johnnie Cav laughed, playing well with others was never his M.O. in life—it was others who had best play well with him or face his wrath.
John Cavanagh: ”You want to tell the world how you’ve made peace with whatever bullshit past demons you’ve conjured up? Good for fucking you! What? Mommy didn’t love you enough? You got picked on at school because your father was a wrestler? Your first crush break your little heart? Whatever reason you were in a mental hospital, I don’t give a rat’s ass, I’ve been to worse places with sicker people than you could even fathom, child. What you consider something traumatic is probably a normal occurrence in the world I’ve lived in for the majority of my life so, yeah, maybe I’m not exactly the type of guy who makes amends. Why the fuck should I? People who make amends, forgive and forget, they’re weak—they’re looking to avoid conflict. I’m not saying I go out and actively seek conflict, but when my “fight or flight” mechanism kicks in—fight is exactly what Johnnie Cavanagh is going to do. I’m not going to come to peace with someone who wronged me—fuck that, I’ll be a patient bastard and strike when the time is right. Beat one of mine in the street? We will get you…a week, month, year, decade later…it doesn’t matter, you’ll get yours. That’s the mentality that you have to deal with. You don’t have that mentality because you aren’t prepared to do whatever is necessary to get your desired outcome. You are too worried about people judging you, about not having come to peace with the world, or whatever other jibber jabber you’ve got to spew today. They all sound like ready made excuses to me—excuses for why Tyler Debonair lost the International Championship at Explosion and his excuses for going off the deep end back into whatever dark parts of his mind he’s been hiding.”
The blonde haired man laughed. He never understood why people didn’t just embrace their evil tendencies. Sure, life wasn’t always easy for John but he had found away to not only succeed but thrive.
John Cavanagh: ”Contrary to popular opinion—sometimes, there is honor among thieves. I came from a small, yet tight-knit group of people. Yeah, Hell’s Kitchen has a lot of people but the old school Irish families have grown to few and far between. For the most part, that who we all interacted with as children so we all slowly developed a sort of loyalty to one another. You wonder why I hold a grudge ten years later? You wonder why I want to send your hurtling to the ground like an Atomic Bomb over Hiroshima or Nagasaki? It’s because your father, the man you seem to paint as some great leader, didn’t understand that concept of loyalty. Everyone knew, and probably knows, that The Coalition was Johnnie’s creation. Why did Trig and Veritas fight so hard? To keep the championship with me because I know how to rally the troops. I know how to keep the soldiers fed and happy. I know how to give, as one of the members of The Purge put it, charismatic speeches to get the boys ready for battle. That’s not something that can be said of your father and from what I’ve seen with your little tribe that you walk around here with…you can’t say it about yourself either, kiddo. For someone who says they once idolized me, you’re doing a pretty shitty job of learning from all of the great things I’ve done in my career up to this point. Championships? Got those. Tournament victories? Plenty. Battle Royal wins? Got those and Ironman status in a pretty damn packed promotion to boot. When I speak, Tyler, people do exactly what you’re doing right now…they listen. When John Cavanagh decides to impart words of wisdom, its a fucking honor to be cherished. When Tyler Debonair decides to speak? What do people do? I’m not sure…I’m sure some listen, but I’ll be frank with you kid—I don’t think you’ve got their ears the way I do. Maybe after another decade or two in this business people will begin to take you seriously—but right now, you’re a lucky kid that caught lightning in a bottle before the big dog showed up.”
Cavanagh walked over to the other side of the room. He glanced outside of the window to see the storm that had been brewing in the City. The rain continued to pour, luckily for him and the rest of The Celtic Club it would clear up prior to their flight.
John Cavanagh: ”My main gripe with your father leaving The Coalition? It wasn’t that he left…when we all found ourselves purchased by another promotion and Fred decided that wasn’t for him…I didn’t bitch and moan. I’ll be honest with you, we didn’t NEED Fred Debonair as far as I was considered. Fred wanted to take his ball and go elsewhere, we let him. The gripe with your father is STEALING what was my championship right out from underneath my nose. See, if I could have put my brother in that very match and I tossed him that belt—the ONLY way he would have left the cage with it is if I were incapacitated. Your father? I sweat it was like the schmuck grinned at me the second he caught the belt, ran right for the wall of the cell, did his best Spider-Man impersonation and next thing you knew…ding, ding, ding…your winner and NEEEEEWWWWW. Hm, I guess history will repeat itself in a way this Sunday night at Explosion, Debo. We’ll be hearing that bell ring and a new champion announced much to the chagrin of the second generation of the Debonair family. You can speculate as to what may have happened if the tables were turned, the fact of the matter is, the tables weren’t turned. Your father was never a leader of The Coalition, when he joined us he knew what the cost was. You joined the crew, you had the backup against anyone, you could go for ANY championship you wanted…except MINE! You don’t take a player like Ronald Acuna, Jr. or LeBron James and ask them to sit for the second best option on the team…anyone with half a brain, including yourself Tyler, can understand that. So, would I have done the same thing? If Fred climbed and got that belt and chucked it to me? He would have been doing his fucking job as a member of The Coalition. Keep inflating your family’s importance to this business all you’d like Tyler because the more people buy into the Debonair Family Tree’s hype…they more they’re gonna have to buy into Johnnie Cav’s when I obliterate you and relieve you of the International Championship at Explosion.”
John turned from the window so that his body was now completely facing the camera again.
John Cavanagh: ”I find it hysterical and nauseating at the same time that you would DARE to claim you are from the same “neck of the woods” as me. Are you kidding me, kid? First off, I ain’t never heard anybody from New York, let alone from the Kitchen, use the word “whilst” before in my life. Hell’s Kitchen has been going through gentrification since I was a pup. That tough, working-class neighborhood that my father grew up in? It was barely holding on when I was a child. Today? You’re more likely to see some yuppie or actor who thinks its cool to say “I live in Hell’s Kitchen”. People that wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes during the era I grew up in twenty some-odd years ago and wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in my father’s day. What does that mean? We can share a neighborhood, we can share a zip code, but bottom line is…the neighborhood your punk ass got raised in isn’t the same neighborhood Johnnie Cav was raised in. I mean, let’s face it, I am a relic of a bygone era so it only makes sense that I “live in the past”. What a cliche phrase for you to use young’n. I don’t live in the past, I live in the present but I do like to revisit the past from time to time. It’s like watching a good movie. You watch it that first time and its all that is your mind. Then that second or third time and beyond? You might pay attention, you might just glance, you might catch something that you didn’t realize the first time you watched that movie. So why do I revisit the past? To make sure I remember everything crystal fucking clear.”
Cavanagh paused momentarily and then proceeded to laugh.
John Cavanagh: ”Its kind of comical for you to state that I’m not getting in your head when I already told you I haven’t made an attempt. I don’t need to make an attempt to play mind games with you—as you’ve already admitted, you’ve followed me and idolized me…I already live rent free inside of that thick cranium of yours. You tell me you’re not some green novice like I pretend you are yet you’re too caught up thinking about what you’re going to say next or what you’re going to do to defeat me that you don’t realize I haven’t played any mind games with you. I came out from day one and made my intentions known. You’ve known from day one I was gunning for you—there ain’t a mind game left to be played when I show you my god damned hand. The fact that you even had to ponder for a split second why Johnnie Cav was coming to the ring, why Johnny Cav was holding that Canadian Championship in the air shows me just how green our young Tyler truly is. I won’t sit here and compare you to other upstarts that have come in my direction because you’ll just come with the same response I am going to tell you regarding these people with “complexes”…they ain’t me. The sad part is, Tyler Debonair knows that people that he’s dealt with in the past couldn’t hold my fucking jock strap! You can mention that tossed together tag team match and claim it as a personal victory all you want, buddy. I got no problem knowing that team of John Cavanagh and Zack Steele didn’t get the job done at that Mayhem. Does it bother me? Nope. Do I give a damn that you picked up the pin? Nah man, congratulations—you proved you were better than Zack Steele for a second show in a row! Quite the fucking accomplishment, my guy. That’s how I know we ain’t from the same neighborhood, we don’t have the same mentality…I wouldn’t be parading around all proud that I pinned your partner in that match. I’d be pissed off that I didn’t pin you! Shit, I wouldn’t have even considered it a victory if I pinned your opponent or Steele got the pin—might as well be a fucking time limit draw.”
Johnnie shook his head in a bit of disbelief.
John Cavanagh: ”Speaking of that tag team partner of mine, I really am glad he made the same claim I did. Truly, I am…I’m glad you got that first title defense under your belt. I’m glad that you were able to continue to build up all of this momentum. Win a tournament and become an inaugural champion, successfully defend said championship, win a tag team match…oh you must be overloaded with joy—feeling like you got the world by the cojones! I can’t blame you, why wouldn’t you…any of us that were in that kind of a position at your age would understand that feeling. I’ve been there kid, I’m glad you got that taste of what being a champion is all about. If nothing else, after I take that championship from you, you’ll be able to thank me for igniting a new flame of competitiveness inside of your relaxed being. You’ll be yearning for that feeling again like a crack head searching to feel for that first high they ever had, only to find out that its never quite the same as your first time. That first big championship you win, that’s a feeling like no other in this sport--a feeling that you’ll be chasing for the rest of your career but after a certain point, the championship just becomes about getting a bigger paycheck. Sooner or later you’ll get to that point too kid, you’ve got plenty of years to come after this rapid fall from grace is completed on Sunday.”
John exits the room he was working out in and walks into the living room, above the television sits a few different championship belts in different shadow boxes, displayed proudly for all those who are entertained in the Cavanagh household to see.
John Cavanagh: ”Yeah, I’ve been a champion pretty much everywhere I’ve visited…not here in IIW, though. You tell me you think its funny the way I act, my arrogant manner, the “hot air” I blow off and then you back track and even state you know I’ve got all of the prerequisite skills and tools to back it up in that squared circle. Like I said before it’s like you’re a fucking walking oxymoron—the Thomas Jefferson of the IIW everyone! I am confident as hell and I know to some confidence can come off as arrogance but that’s their issue. I don’t come to the IIW seeking approval for my skills or for my attitude—I’m here to settle a bit of a score and earn…that seems to be the M.O. of my life, but you already know that, don’t you Tyler? By the way Aquaman, fish can be very calming, maybe some tattoo shops do have fish in them, I know the ones I’ve frequented haven’t but I haven’t been everywhere. I like your little comparison to being a piranha, trying to make yourself seem all vicious and violent when the time is ripe. Fucking cute, kid. I could stand here and claim to be like the Pit Bull I got in the other room, look all cute and cuddly and then rip your fucking arm off on command…but we both know I don’t need to. See, you need to make analogies like that to feed yourself hope because we can all tell by your actions that you ain’t no fucking predator. You even admit you kept your head in the sand when it came to me—behavior that is seeming a lot more like the myth regarding ostriches than a piranha, wouldn’t you agree?”
John continued to walk through his apartment, behind him Shannon could be seen rushing from one dresser to a closet while packing bags. John made a left down the hallway and a right into another room. This room was filled with books and photographs on two of the walls. One wall, the last one that the camera caught hold of, had one large Celtic Cross and a photo of John’s father with a candle lit—a custom of New York mobsters when a loved one was incarcerated. Surrounding the cross and the photo lay a few shotguns and rifles—all legal weapons, John had grown far too smart to keep an illegal firearm in his house.
John Cavanagh: ”All this Eastern mumbo jumbo you talk about…how are you from the Kitchen? The people you would have encountered in your span here wouldn’t be open minded to that kind of shit. Look at that wall—that’s what the “neighborhood” you claim was all about. It was about being one tough son of a bitch, not taking shit from anyone…the words “cool” and “calm” would never be associated with someone from my neck of the woods. Maybe you really did transform in your little mental institution—maybe you did reach true enlightenment, maybe you’re the Buddha and I should rub your belly three times at Explosion for some “good luck”. I’ve gone through plenty of enlightening moments in my life, I’ve made plenty of mistakes and learned from them, I didn’t need some spiritual enlightenment to grow as a person like you did. I learned from what the world tossed at me rather than tapping into something written down by man centuries ago. Do you think I truly need to be in touch with my spiritual side to do what I’ve said I would do at Explosion? You know damn well the answer to that question is a resounding no.”
John shook his head once more.
John Cavanagh: ”See Tyler, we’re different you and I. You may think that you’re better than me or that you’re even similar to me, but, those would be a falsehood that you’ve fed yourself and convinced yourself to believe. Me? I came from nothing. I came from the streets, a broken home, an imprisoned father, a cycle of crime and violence that my family and many of my friends wound up consumed by in one way or another. You? You come from a family that you as able to afford you certain luxuries in life. Your father made good in professional wrestling—championships out the wazoo. So, if you’re going to pretend that you know what it means to struggle and fight for everything you’ve earned—I see right through your bullshit lie. See, when you come from nothing…you understand how difficult it is to fight your way to where you want to go all against the current of the tide. Meanwhile, someone who was born with a silver spoon in their mouth—they’ve got no idea what kind of a struggle it is to reach that mountain top. In my life travels I’ve run across people of every walk of life, every tone of pigment, every religious denomination and every socioeconomic level you can think of and I’ll tell you right now Tyler boy…those who struggle to get what they want, they always find a way to persevere. Those of us who had to fight for every accomplishment in our lives…we are the strong, we are the mighty, we are the superior group of people. The “have nots” people like myself, Andy, Trig and any other inner city kid that found themselves on the streets or fighting the urge to live the streets life—we are the backbone and the very fabric that holds this fucking world together. People like Tyler, and plenty of other pieces of shit walking around this locker room, the “haves” they’re the bastards that make it miserable for the normal person. Tyler, while you may have been blessed to be born to successful family that could give you all the happiness, joy and advantages of a financially stable upbringing—it is also your ultimate curse.”
John laughed as he rubbed his left thumb and index finger across his chin.
John Cavanagh: ”Look at me, I might as well be calling myself the proletariat and Tyler the bourgeoisie—fuck, ain’t I channeling my inner Karl Marx? We can call this the Cavanagh Manifesto. The book written by the man who rose from the streets to make his way to the top of the mountain…and now that he has suffered a fall from grace? He’s back to reclaim his rightful spot atop an industry that has grown soft—an industry that thinks men like Tyler Debonair are the future of this sport. All of that couldn’t be further from the truth. This Sunday night at IIW Explosion…Tyler Debonair may feel as if he has nothing to lose but I beg to differ. A championship, an undefeated streak, all of that momentum…gone in the blink of an eye. You can tell me and the rest of the world that you’ll be all Dalai Lama about it but if that is the outcome…then I know you don’t have what it takes in you to be as good as me, shit, you wouldn’t even be as good as your father if that’s the case. I get people in this day and age want men to be more in touch with their feelings and spirituality, but, all that shit just makes you weak, makes you second guess your own actions. Why is it negative to second guess yourself? When you second guess, you hesitate…and you know what they say about “he who hesitates in war” now don’t you, Tyler? Don’t cling on to your new found “enlightenment” its only going to lead to you being a know it all and as an “enlightened one” you’ll never truly be open to growth ever again. You’ve got quite a bit to learn before you think about getting to defeat The One Man Dynasty and you’re not too long from finding that out.”
Before John could continue he heard Shannon’s voice from the other room.
Shannon Riley: ”Johnnie are you done with that shit yet? I really want you to help me pick out what bikinis I’m bringing on vacation.”
John’s tough demeanor regarding his upcoming match with Tyler Debonair seem to subside and a smirk develops on the right side of his face.
John Cavanagh: ”Sorry, Tyler, I won’t have anymore time to further enlighten you prior to our match. Can’t wait for this one.”
John turns his head away from the camera.
John Cavanagh: ”On my way.”
John turned his back and began to walk away as the scene slowly turned to static before reopening with a return to our young John Cavanagh.
John was in a familiar spot, walking the yard at Clinton once more. The young Cavanagh had grown a substantial amount of facial hair, it was his first day back out of the hole and he hadn’t particularly felt like cutting his new look yet. He walked around the yard, his chest still puffed out, still alone. He eyed the group of white inmates that he had fought and found his way back to the hole. He turned back and not too far off he found the first group that had tested his buttons, the African-American inmates. John took a deep sigh.
John Cavanagh: ”This is what I get for just trying to do my fucking time.”
The future King of Kings shook his head and walked in a third direction. He wasn’t worried about more confrontations, he had plenty of those throughout the course of his life and the time he spent on Riker’s awaiting trial before settling in. The Irishman was hoping that it wouldn’t take much longer before he settled in at Clinton, but, with many of these guys here for decades or the remainder of their lives—he doubted it was a guarantee to happen any time soon, if at all. Suddenly, John heard a voice…”
Unknown: ”Irlandes, que lo que cabrón?”
John stopped abruptly in his tracks. He had been called Irish by plenty of people he met OUTSIDE of his neighborhood, but, there was only one person that ever called him Irlandes and that person WAS in his neighborhood but had left. John turned, he saw an old friendly face…
John Cavanagh: ”Pedro?! Pinche boricua!”
John and Pedro outstretched their hands and embraced as the scene cut to static.
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Post by Tyler Debonair on Jul 10, 2021 22:44:25 GMT
***So many things have gone on in Tyler Debonair’s world, in the last few months, since he left the hot sunny life of the West Coast of the United States, to the smog-filled, rainy atmosphere of Manchester, England. Every part of the plan that had been put together for him, came falling down around his head, every path that had been set out for him, had suddenly developed roadblocks… And that’s when family came forward, family 101 as it were and with that, the ability for Tyler’s true nature to come to fruition.
And now, it’s payback time, it’s time to fix everything for all that they’ve done for him… Both Casie and Mercedes deserve what’s coming to them and once Tyler is through giving the payback, nobody is going to forget where they were the day it all went down, the day everything truly became visible for all to see… But until then, we’ll open our scene in The Lock and Key pub, Manchester. It’s early evening and the sun has set already. Inside the pub, Tyler Debonair sits alongside Casie, he has a glass of Disaronno and Coke, her drink of choice is a Malibu and Lemonade, on the TV is a roundup of the following days Euro’s final against Italy and England… It’s been hectic the last couple of weeks, but nothing will compare to that match and the Explosion Pay-Per-View alongside it*** Casie: ”So what’s with the invite, Tyler? Apart from the one dinner we all had to celebrate the purchase of The Courthouse, none of us have been out to eat or drink, since we got here!”
Tyler: ”Can’t a guy just invite his auntie out for a drink without there being something else in play?”
Casie: ”A guy, yes… You? Never! There’s always something in your head or up your sleeve, so what is it?”
Tyler: ”Fair enough, nothing at all. I’m just wanting to catch up with you and find out how CDPR is going? Frankie told me you’re bringing a UK brand on board?”
Casie: ”I sure am… Just got to find somewhere to house the operation. The place we had here is a complete dump. We’ve got clients coming in thick and fast as well, so we need to find somewhere fast.”
Tyler: ”Oh yeah I bet, that’s gotta be annoying…”
Casie: ”Eh, we’ll figure it out. Anyway what’s going on with you? You’ve got your huge match coming up with John Cavanagh but I’ve not seen you hopping about it over it once, you okay?”
Tyler: ”I’m good, I’m just not bothered is all. I can only do what’s in my best physical and mental state and no more, so if I end up getting beat so be it, but that won’t be the case so… I’m just rolling with the tide until the evening of Explosion comes into focus and then I’ll work on how I feel.”
Casie: ”I guess that’s as good a plan as any… I remember Cavanagh though as I’m sure you do but I was a little older and I know you can’t trust that man as far as you can throw him.”
Tyler: ”Oh I know that and I think anyone who’s seen him in and out of the ring knows it too… The guy has a history and it’s not a very good one. Dad tried to warn me, mom tried to warn me, both you and Mercy tried to warn me and hell even recently Steph has had a few choice words for me about him…”
Casie: ”And let’s face it, Ty, we can’t all be wrong, right? So, what is it about Cav, or was it I should say that made you wanna be around the guy so bad?! I mean you had your dad in that ring as everybody’s idol, you had people like Angelo, Andrews, King, Hawk and all those guys, your mom wrestled even I wrestled!”
Tyler: ”I wish I could say I was in a rebellious phase, but it wasn’t even like that. Mom and dad gave us everything we could want and more. I genuinely don’t know why I looked up to John Cavanagh but back then, I did… It’s a crazy world we live in though. Anyway! You don’t with that drink? We’ve got a few blocks to walk”
***They both som their empty glasses on the table and exit the pub, chucking their jackets on as they do, the weather outside despite it being July, is cold and pouring down with rain. It only takes them a few minutes and they’re standing right outside a huge sixteen floor office block. Tyler looks around and pulls open the door, walking straight into the glass foyer with the white leather furniture. Casie is unsure what’s happening, but follows him in anyway as he walks around the reception desk and sits in the big white chair behind it, spinning around*** Casie: ”Tyler, what’s going on?”
Tyler: ”You know, for years Cas’ I’ve been trying to work out how I’m supposed to repay you, for everything you did as I was growing up… It’s taken me a while but, I think I may just have pulled this off, without anyone especially you, suspecting a thing.”
***Suddenly from around the corner, a tall, slender man in a suit begins to walk towards Casie with his arm out. Her look of confusion turns to surprise and she gets herself into a fighting stance, the suited man looks more surprised than she does and looks at Tyler who jumps out of his chair*** Tyler: ”Woah, woah! What are you doing?!”
Casie: ”What am I doing?! What’s HE doing?! What’s going on, Tyler?!”
Tyler: ”This is Neville! He’s a security guard here! At CDPR’s UK division! He was just going to take your coat!”
***Everything just stops dead. Casie freezes but looks between Neville and Tyler. Neville smiles and gives a small wave as Tyler comes around from behind the desk. He grins sheepishly as he hands Casie over a set of keys*** Tyler: ”…Surprise??”
Casie: ”Ty… What is all this?!”
Tyler: ”Like I say, I’ve been trying to figure out ways to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me throughout the years… Growing up, when my mom left, when I was in Resnick… Then I saw a billboard advertising this place and remembered how badly you needed a proper office for your PR company and well… It’s yours. Well okay not all of it, there’s sixteen floors you’ve got the first six, I’ve got plans for the rest but yeah, enjoy!”
***Casie grabs her nephew and hugs him tight, tears welling up in her eyes. She looks over at Neville as he approaches and they shake hands. Tyler looks around and then at his watch, he smiles at Casie then turns to Neville*** Tyler: ”Hey Neville you can go home now there’s a few bits I wanna do here, I’ll lock up. Cas you need to be getting back for tonight’s little soirée.”
Casie: ”Oh my God, I almost forgot! Okay so what do we do about this place now?”
Tyler: ”Monday you just tell the staff you have at the moment you’re moving in here in a couple of weeks. I’ll get everything else sorted by then. The deeds are at my apartment, I’ll bring them to you.”
***Tyler and Neville shake hands and Casie gives him another hug as they exit the building. Tyler locks the doors from the inside and turns towards the elevator as the scene descends into darkness…
++++++++++++
…It reopens on the sixteenth floor. The elevator opens and Tyler steps off, as the lights flicker away. He smacks the terminal and the lights go out completely, with the backup power kicking in. He shakes his head as he approaches one of the huge glass windows overlooking the city of Manchester. He leans against it with an arm and leans into the crease of his elbow with his forehead*** Tyler: ”Did you see the look on her face? Well, after the initial shock had warn off and she didn’t want to beat Neville within an inch of his life at least. Man she was so surprised, I love surprises… I love the thought of someone’s adrenaline pumping and blood running through their veins as they realise that this whole thing has been pre-planned for them, things have been put in motion for that person to get to the point they’re at when you yell out surprise and they almost faint, or die or something… Hey John, surprise! You see not all surprises are good, but they all leave people with that same sense of their heart flying up their throat and out through their mouths… For you see John, no matter what you say, no matter what you try to claim has happened or will happen, this has always been the plan. Things get set in motion so that the person you’re surprising is at a certain point, at a certain time… In your case it’ll be Explosion, Sunday night. You didn’t really think this was all coincidence and luck of the draw did you, John? Tell me, bar the tag match with you and Steele against myself and Rogue, how many matches have you had let alone won in IIW? That’s right hoss, zero… Please don’t tell me you were given this shot because you deserved it, Cav… Oh you really did right? You poor fool, Johnny. I’m the reason for your shot. Me…
When I first stepped into a Wrestling ring, I was seventeen, it was a Battle Royal with a twist, that being the last two left in the ring became a tag team and went for the Tag-Titles. I was one of the winners and I got my shot at the following Pay-Per-View event and we went on to win it… I then won the equivalent of the Extreme Title and all this within three months of me being in the promotion… Why am I telling you all this? Simple really I’m trying to let you know John, that I’m not some newcomer to the world of Professional Wrestling, I know what I’m doing and believe me you’re doing and saying nothing I’ve not had before in my life. You know what I find almost unbearably funny though? The way John Cavanagh’s mind is literally letting him believe that my father screwed him and what’s funnier is I don’t think he’s trying to call my bluff here, I genuinely think this is what he believes happened… He honestly believes he welcomed my dad into the fold with open arms and my dad betrayed him, but as I’ve already mentioned what you claim my dad did to you, John, we both know you’d have done that to him or anyone else in a heartbeat and it honestly just feels like you’re bitter because somebody else go the better of you… And you can’t handle that.
Conniving, slippery bastards right? That’s what my family are? Wow… Johnny, Johnny, Johnny… Do you not hear the comedic irony in your voice when you say these things?? I mean we’ve lived in an area known for The Westies, The Gorilla Gang, The Gophers, The Parlour Mob and The Hell’s Kitchen Gang and you want to talk about me and my father being conniving, slippery bastards? I know my dad never once backed down from you and never tried to avoid you and you can bet your ass that this won’t be me either… And there you go, oh so predictable John Cavanagh, already you’re playing this game where you insinuate that what happened only happened in the way that you spoke it… But as I’ve mentioned to you previously John, that ain’t going to fly. You can spit all the rhetoric you want John but as I’ve told you none of it matters, this isn’t you and my dad this is me and you! You’re more obsessed with my dad than I was with you Cav but the difference is, I was a young boy and you’re a grown ass man who’s been doing this for at least a decade and a half… I mean I’ll be honest John, to me it just feels like you’ve got some unfinished business in your head to do with my dad and… you want to use me to do that…
***Tyler chuckles and moves away from the window, turning towards the tables and chairs situated in the centre of the room. He pushes past a bundle of boxes with stuff inside left by the previous owner, making a mental note to get rid of it. He walks toward a giant monitor that’s bracketed onto the wall and switches it on, walking back towards a table and sitting on it. He grabs a control from the table and flicks through the internal cable television until he reaches Netflix*** Tyler: ”John, when is it going to sink in that no matter what you shout about, no matter what topic you rant on, no matter what ‘truth’ you try and spin, at the end of the day we both know the truth of the situation and that’s all that matters… You can sit there and twist the narrative all you like but all that’s going to achieve is making you look scared John, you’re not scared are you? Because this is exactly what happens when people are scared of the upcoming battle. They set themselves a story that the person standing opposite them is weak, rigid, almost an inanimate object and can do nothing to hurt them and yet John, you know that’s complete and utter bull. Again with talking about my dad too, man… Whether we talk or not, my dad is still my family but I’m unsure why you’re so pressed about who my actual family are? T’aww John I noticed I happened to strike a nerve with you when I said that Andy and Trig were holding you back, it’s a shame that you go from zero to two hundred in absolutely no time at all, hoss… You have no sails about you to reel you in and calm you down. You got triggered very easily man, but why is that? You say it’s ludicrous that I suggested that perhaps they’re holding you back so why do you actually care? Maybe it’s because you know there’s truth to it. John… And let me just reiterate to you that your shot at my Title, is nothing to do with being you, you arrogant son of a bitch…
John you genuinely embarrass yourself when you sit there and attempt mockery, you realise this right? I mean all in all it isn’t about what you can do, what I’ve said, what’s happening with your people and my people, what my dad did to you and all that! This is about what’s going to happen with us, at Explosion. This is about your Canadian Championship and my International Title… There you go again with this whole gaslighting again, I’m trying to persuade people that I’ve got this under control?! Do you know what we call that John? It’s called projection… Flipping the narrative to suit you. I don’t need to persuade anybody I’ve got this under control, Cav, I definitely have this under control… Projection is something I’ve found carries with every single opponent I’ve had since coming to IIW, every single one and honestly, I thought better of you John. Don’t ask why I did, but I did… Naivety I guess. I did have to chuckle at your self-contradiction though John, I’ll be honest… You said that at Explosion you’re going to show me why I’m not ready to compete at your level and yet not thirty seconds prior to that you stated that our match will go down in history as one of the greatest meetings in IIW history… It takes two to tango, John, remember that…
Still hasn’t sunk in, has it John…? It’s about mirrors and deflection, hoss and I perfected that shit years ago. What are you not comprehending about this entire experience Johnny? It’s like you genuinely believe you got here and got this on merit… Do you? I dunno man, but one thing is for sure… I’m most definitely getting under your skin and that works just fine for me. That works perfectly, seeing you lose it over words I’m speaking, before we’ve even stepped into the ring, that is what gives me comfort John. Not that I think you’re just a man like everybody else, this… Watching your face go red when you respond to me, visibly seeing your heartbeat pump through your chest, the veins on your neck bulging… You knock back the Jameson for your alcohol fuel kick, this… This is my equivalent.”
***Tyler smirks as he heads back toward the lift, checking his watch he doesn’t even press the button, but instead heads for the stairwell and bolts down the stairs as the scene fades out…
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We open up on a dark Manchester street, the street lights are out and it’s slightly disconcerting as the couple walk towards the main doors of The Courthouse… Mercedes opens the door and Asher walks in behind her, closing the door quietly. Asher moves away from the door and shuffles towards the light switches, before he can do anything though, Mercedes turns and brushes against what appears to be an arm*** MJ: ”What the hell?! Intruder!! Take that dude!”
Intruder: ”Argh! Bloody hell girl! Calm down!”
***Hearing the commotion, Asher quickly flips on the lights and we hear a chorus of “SURPRISE!” and as Mercedes spins around the entire Courthouse is full of people, friends and family of Mercedes alike. People she hasn’t seen in years even! And at the front, is Tyler. She turns and sees Cristian Gregory holding his nose*** MJ: ”Oh my God, Cristian I’m so sorry!”
Cristian: ”Oh it’s okay, Mercedes, don’t worry I’m all good!”
MJ: ”Oh my Gosh, Ty did you sort all this out?! Wow is that Uncle Tom and Aunt Lucille?!”
Tyler: ”Yes, yes I did and boy did it cost a lot… But Asher and Abe helped me out quite a bit. We’ve got family here from all over the world…”
MJ: ”But why??? This is intense!”
Tyler: ”Well your birthday is coming up and like I told Casie, you guys have done so much for me over the years and I know you missed out on birthdays and such with dad always coming to see me or whatever… I’m just in a position to do this now, Mercy…”
MJ: ”Wow… I don’t know what to say.”
Tyler: ”Don’t say anything yet, I’ve also got these for you.”
***Tyler hands Mercedes a set of keys and she looks at him really confused. He smiles as he starts to walk away*** Tyler: ”I know you had to put off your business too… So I’ve set you up in the same office block I’ve set Casie up with her PR firm. She has the first six floors, you’ve got the next six… There are four remaining that I’ve been asked to hold onto for some reason but that’s for you! Now go mingle, our cousins from South Africa are over by the ring and buffet table!”
***Tyler leaves Mercedes looking in absolute awe as he strolls away from her, greeting family and friends as he walks through and starts heading up the stairwell to the living area and roof as the scene fades into the darkness…
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…We reopen on the roof of The Courthouse, Tyler Debonair is standing there overlooking the City. He looks happy, a smile on his face that looks a little disguised under a look of sheer concentration as he stares into the starry night sky*** Tyler: ”Previously on the life and times of John Cavanagh, we left that man huffing and puffing like he was the big bad Wolf! Now if that’s the case then that must make me one of the three little pigs! And I’m okay with that so long as I’m the one with the house made of bricks, because there’s absolutely no way John Cavanagh is getting through this, not in a million years… And John would you care to explain why you just keep repeating the same shit I’m saying to you? Echoing is another form of projection you know, hoss? I mean you say I’m not a little kid anymore you’re right, but you’re also getting on a bit man and I hope it’s not Alzheimer's or dementia, John that would be awful! You’re damn right Cav, we do both bleed and we most certainly will bleed, that’s a given, don’t you worry yourself about that. You say John, that your question about what you need to do to get recognised was rhetorical but we both know the truth don’t we Johnny? We both know that you really, really wanted to know because you don’t feel as if you are.
Again John I’m honestly not sure why you keep mentioning your past accolades? Why you keep telling me some stories of days gone by when you were this legend and that king, as if you think one that I care but also two, that it’s going to affect anything! This isn’t the late nineties John, this isn’t twenty ten, hoss… I’ve seen you hold up enough titles to know just what kind of challenge you’re going to be but you need to comprehend that you’ve not done it here yet and until you can firmly take this belt away from me, you won’t have done it here… As for the IIW International Title, you really think you’re going to make something of this belt? You couldn’t even make being the first and last FCPW Canadian Title count for anything, Jonathan… And wait, John. You… You actually thought I was referencing the match in terms of the kind of level I’m on compared to you?? That wasn’t it, John, I was just making a statement of fact that the match itself showed just how far off the pace you’ve become, in fact I think everybody but you can see it. You say you’ve not underestimated me or thinking I’ll be some easy pushover, yet everything you talk about, everything you say, says different.
Your attitude John, your demeanour, your entire persona has changed since you were set up in this match to take me on, Cavanagh and it’s starting to grate on you, I can tell. You keep repeating yourself over and over, the same things about how you know I can be good, but you don’t think I’ve got what it takes to reach your level. How I’m weak and yet you don’t underestimate me… I think you should probably shake all those cobwebs out of your head, John and get yourself straight or something is gonna come loose and you’ll be left wondering what could have been… You may have proved time and again you’re one of the toughest bastards walking the Earth Johnny, but soon you’ll find out that I too, fall into that category… The problem is, John, you actually think that you’re going to make me famous in this match… When the truth is John, I’m the one making you relevant again. Keep your hat on, hoss because this is going to be one hell of a ride come Explosion. You will find out exactly what I’m capable of John. I hope you can handle that… Champ!”
***Tyler just stares ahead and watches on as we fade-to-black!!***
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