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Post by Osh Vaughan on Nov 24, 2021 23:11:38 GMT
International Championship Match
Fred vs Cav
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Post by The Celtic Club on Dec 7, 2021 2:19:57 GMT
Trigger Cavanagh: Everything good?
Trigger’s voice echoed as the scene opened to John Cavanagh staring vacantly into the screen, as the shot panned out Trigger and Andy could be seen sitting on the opposite side of the locker room.
Trigger Cavanagh: Johnnie?
Andy begins to wave his hand in front of John’s face.
Andy Donahue: Yo bruh!
John’s right hand goes flying and strikes Andy’s hand out of motion.
John Cavanagh: Yeah, everything is just dandy. Sitting in the same god damned predicament we were two months ago...I’d say it's just peachy, ain’t it Trig?
Trigger said nothing, he knew the question was meant to be rhetorical but meathead Andy couldn’t help himself.
Andy Donahue: I mean, it ain’t worse though...right?
Trigger immediately sends an ice-cold stare in Andy’s direction. Trigger knew John was about to erupt and just as soon as Trigger’s mind processed that thought…
John Cavanagh: ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!!! Not worse?! Andy...let me ask you a question...when you’re in the gym is your goal to lift the same amount of weight or increase?
Andy Donahue: Increase.
John Cavanagh: And the amount of reps? Do you want to increase those or maintain the same quantity?
Andy Donahue: Increase man, come on Johnnie, you know the motto...no pain, no gain!
Andy did what Andy does best: he formed a bicep and smiled. John stood to his feet, he brought his face to within inches of Andy’s. It was at this moment that Andy realized John wasn’t sharing in Andy’s comical approach. The smile that had formed on Andy Donahue’s face withered away to non-existence.
John Cavanagh: This kind of stupidity is why you’re still just “The Heir Apparent” and not the straight up “Heir”. Your brain still can’t comprehend something as basic as progress. You know why you and Trig took the win against The Coven?
Andy’s mouth opened but John’s hand cut through the air stopping Andy’s thoughts before they could become words.
John Cavanagh: Don’t answer the question, I’ll answer it for you! It’s because the fire was finally lit under my brother’s ass to get you two back on the right track! Trigger took matters into his own hands to make sure The Coven was sent to the locker room with no momentum to go into Red Alert. You want to be remembered as anything more than a one-time Tag Team Champion from a promotion that closed before you could defend the belts the rest of your life?
The hulking Irishman’s face shot towards the ground. Something about John’s words could cut the legs out from underneath even the biggest and toughest of people.
John Cavanagh: I didn’t think so! Why do you think I’m teetering on the edge? I should be the IIW World Champion! Instead what am I? I’m the IIW International Champion...a highlight I already added to my resume months beforehand! We progress, we move forward, we take that mile when somebody gives us an inch because if you’re not advancing you’re not relevant! You understand what I’m saying to you?!
Andy’s head nodded up and down as Trigger remained silent, almost as if he was petrified to breathe too heavily as the leader of the Celtic Club let the youngest member know why his mindset was all out of whack.
John Cavanagh: Good, glad that we were able to get all of that out of the way. Happy that I was able to add to your learning process, Andy. As a matter of fact, pay close attention to my showdown with Fred Debonair at Red Alert, take some notes, you might learn a few more things that you can apply inside of the ropes.
Andy Donahue: What am I gonna learn from a flat out squash? Let’s face it Johnnie, with the rage that Fred unlocked inside of you--I’d be surprised if he lasted more than two or three minutes with you.
Trigger put his head into the palm of his hand and began to shake it back and forth before looking back up at Andy.
Trigger Cavanagh: Andy, when are you going to learn to shut up?
Andy looked at Trigger stunned, he couldn’t understand how a compliment like this could offend John.
Andy Donahue: What do I have to do to be right around here lately? Bust my ass in the gym...not good enough. Win a match...not good enough. Speak the truth about Johnnie kicking some ass...what is that considered a lie now?
John Cavanagh: No, it’s not a lie. I hate to say it Andy Boy, but, you’re one hundred percent correct. If I really wanted to, it wouldn't take much to walk down to the ring with my chest stuck out, mop the floor with that moron, take the pinfall and walk right back up the ramp I came from. That might be the most efficient way to collect my paycheck on this show but it sure as hell wouldn’t be the most satisfying. I’m not looking to just defeat Fred...once again, something that should be abundantly clear. I want to destroy his psyche, derail The Coven’s momentum and toss the memory of Fred Debonair in the rearview mirror once and for all. I want this match to end with even the staunchest Fred Debonair supporterer finally admitting that Freddy isn’t on the same level as Johnnie.
Andy Donahue: Don’t you already know that though, boss?
Trigger can be seen turning his back and shaking his head in the background.
John Cavanagh: OF COURSE I DO! I don’t need to be the one to know that, I don’t need you or Trig to realize that...I need the people that control the book to realize that. Fred’s career and mine have already been forever joined at the hip due to our wars of the past, no need for another year or two of Debonair and Cavanagh going at each other’s throats. Red Alert is going to be the final chapter in this storied rivalry--the end of more than a decade of hostilities, the final exclamation point on our story, the annihilation of a man who thought he was on my level and the awakening of a new chapter.
Trigger raises his head to a sideways tilt and raises his eyebrow.
Trigger Cavanagh: What chapter is that gonna be Johnnie?
John chuckled.
John Cavanagh: The chapter of Celtic Club dominance. We are less than a month away from the calendar flipping, just a handful of weeks away from saying adios to 2021 and hello to 2022. So, with that in mind boys, I want to take this moment to alert the two of you to a bright new future...next year is the year that The Celtic Club demonstrates its superiority over the remaining members of the locker room. I already proved Tyler Debonair was not ready for me. Anthony Phoenix, that lamb already tried to take my championship and was promptly led to the slaughter. Jake E. Dangerously, the man who it seems no one in the IIW can even hold a candle to, he still has the IIW Championship only because of Fred Debonair...if he takes a moment to be honest with himself then he will be able to admit that. Fred Debonair? That piece of shit is the last cog in the wheel. Freddie Boy, he is the one that needs to be taught the biggest lesson of them all. Luckily for Fred, my years in what we call college have left me more than capable of teaching a lesson and at Red Alert, Mr. Debonair will get taught his last lesson at the hands of Mr. Cavanagh.
Andy and Trigger nod their heads in agreement. Trigger smirks as Andy puffs out his chest.
Andy Donahue: I like the way this shit sounds, Johnnie Boy. Forget about the New Year celebration in Times Square, this year the real New Year celebration is going to be at The Blarney Stone in the Kitchen!
Trigger Cavanagh: Yeah, a nice big celebration after Johnnie knocks Fred down a few pegs and kicks his head around the mat for a while.
John Cavanagh: Yes, exactly...all of that. Red Alert is the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. I have formed many factions to dominate different promotions. But, with you two, I do not need to hunt around the locker room and find the best pieces to fit the puzzle. I have the army I need to dominate this promotion. After I retain my International Championship at Red Alert against Fred Debonair…
Andy Donahue: We gonna party and have all the pretty ladies kicking it at the Blarney.
John looked at Andy and the happy demeanor Andy had previously displayed disappeared instantly.
John Cavanagh: Maybe, we will...but business comes before pleasure Andy Boy, you should know that by now. I retain at Red Alert, we figure out who the next joke of a challenger is and you two figure out how you will become the next IIW World Tag Team Champions. In the meantime, while I take care of more challengers and you two prove that you are by far the greatest tag team to ever step foot in the IIW...Jake can enjoy his time as champion and toy around with the winner of Tyler and Curtis. Then, when Jake is done burying the winner of that match, I can circle back around and finish the job that should have been completed at Up in Smoke…
With that the scene begins to fade as John Cavanagh rubs his hands back and forth while Trigger and Andy smile at one another...2022 is going to be one hell of a year for the Celtic Club. The scene faded to black momentarily before the feed reopened. A silhouette could be seen through the darkness.
John Cavanagh: What made him do it? Anger? Maybe. I mean, let’s face it--I took his child’s prized toy with relative ease and put the brat in a hospital bed. Jealousy? Maybe. I kind of skip ahead of the Debonair family on the hierarchy of World Championship contenders. Or is it a deeper, psychological issue of inferiority that Freddie Boy possesses? Maybe. Let’s face it, I did become a constant reminder of all of his shortcomings in the past. Stupidity? Maybe on that one too. Debonair should realize I would have gladly given him a World Title match had he allowed me to finish what I started. Matter of fact, that’s about all I can take from this question because I think Johnnie Cav just hit the nail on the proverbial head. I had the IIW World Champion, Jake E. Dangerously...you know the guy that had been running roughshod all over this damn promotion? I had Jake up against the ropes for ninety-nine percent of our match! I made the guy who dominated this place look like his name was Barry Harowitz and Fred Debonair decided to stick his nose into my goddamn business!?! How bad did it bother you, Fred? When your music hit, I looked up, brushed you off and went about my business. You didn’t faze me one bit! Mind games? I’ve never been the one to lose in those games when we’ve encountered one another so what makes you think I would succumb to such bullshit?!
John's body crept forward, exposing his face to the light bringing in view his piercing blue eyes that stared hard down the camera lens.
John Cavanagh: But then...then? Then you went ahead and waltzed your cowardly ass down the ramp and waited for the opportune moment to trip me. Let me fall right into Jake’s one move of doom and take the pin fall. It’s all good, let you have that moment of glory for the IIW chapter of your career. Let Jake’s undefeated streak and championship reign survive to fight another day--I’m sure he will still be the man that I have to dethrone the next time around. Fred...you should be walking into Red Alert facing a double champion, maybe even with the IIW brass allowing for both titles to be defended, instead you’ve gotta watch as I defeat you and that happy go lucky, ball of joy pins your shit stain of a child. Red Alert seems like it's going to be a pretty rough night for the Debonair family. Not like you guys haven’t experienced a rough night recently.
John chuckled to himself for a moment before shaking his head.
John Cavanagh: How did you boys like that? Last Mayhem, my brother and Andy Boy, they went out there and gave you two both the ass whoopings that you so desperately needed. You heard Trig before that show--he was finally starting to get his head in the right place--he knew what to do. Now, don’t get me wrong, I might have been leading the troops at the onset of the match but that victory...it’s all Trig’s. I couldn’t have been more proud of Trig when he gave Andy his little pep talk. Chris was able to let Andy know exactly what I wanted out of that match and exactly what he wanted out of that match. I wanted you to catch a pummeling and Trig wanted to get the tag team portion of this trio back on the right track. And Freddy, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you how your night ended last Monday but for those who forgot or may have missed out on all of the fun I might as well recap. The Coven, the father and the son duo, succumbed to the better team and what's more? Fred Debonair ate the pin! And who pinned you Fred? Trigger...a Cavanagh pinned your shoulders to the mat...again! That kind of helps sum up a nice chunk of your career, huh? Kind of sums up your offspring’s greatest accomplishment thus far--getting to do the job to one of the greatest to ever step his foot inside of a god damned squared circle!
The One Man Dynasty let out a boisterous cackle that reverberated through the room he sat in.
John Cavanagh: As a matter of fact, now that I think of it...it seems like The Celtic Club has had Fred Debonair’s number ever since you stuck your nose in my business. That one mistake, one drastic miscalculation that has since led to those Hell’s Kitchen boys trying to beat a bit of sense into Fred. Even when you and Trig locked horns together one on one, you may have gained the victory but let's not forget it was nothing more than a disqualification. A disqualification loss that Trigger was more than willing to go to the ring and eat in order to make you pay your pound of flesh. See, that’s what this is all about in the end...Fred Debonair needing to pay his debt to The One Man Dynasty. Johnnie Cav never had a desire to circle back around and write another chapter in our storied rivalry. I was ready to move on to bigger and better things--I was ready to claim the IIW World Championship--you could have earned yourself the right to face me after I finished defeating Jake E. Dangerously but no...you had to keep your head in the past! You couldn’t, for once, look to the future and see the potential a few months down the line. The man who still seems to think he’s as dominant as he was BEFORE he met me back in Fearless Championship Wrestling--that’s who Fred Debonair still wants the world to believe he is. Well, I’ve got a bit of news for you Fred, for your family and for the rest of the world...I proved back in the FCW that you didn’t have what it took to hang with me.
The Irishman smirked and looked above him as if he were looking up at the sky and asking what now?
John Cavanagh: What are you going to do this time? How are you going to defeat me? The only time you EVER beat Johnnie Cav was in some bullshit ladder-cage match! Not only that, you were on my side...a treasonous Benedict Arnold that I confided in to protect MY championship. I tossed you that belt back then and you took that moment of shitty judgment and made me pay for it. You can’t pull the wool over old Johnnie Cav’s eyes this time. You don’t have any cards hidden up your sleeve and the fact that you STILL stick your nose in my life already proves that you’re an old dog that didn’t learn any new tricks so I ask again...how do you plan to beat me?! How can someone who is still living in the past while thinking the same old tricks are going to help him get over think for even a split second that they’re going to be able to beat the man that had Jake E. Dangerously damn near defeated? How does Fred Debonair think that this time is going to be any different than any of the countless other times that Debonair and Cavanagh squared off inside of the ring? Fred, my boy, you must be sipping more of that Kool-Aid than normal. You must have knocked your head a few too many times during your career if you really think that the story ends any differently here.
Hell's Kitchen's favorite son began to shake his head back and forth.
John Cavanagh: No, no, no...it won't end any differently here, Fred. But, let's face it, you already know that...but the crowd, they might need to be filled in a bit. How does it all end at Red Alert? I think the ending of the International Championship match next Sunday night is the most painfully obvious outcome on the entire card. John Cavanagh is going to beat the shit out of Fred Debonair. Fred Debonair is going to beat the shit out of John Cavanagh. Two gladiators are going to go into that ring and leave it all out there. Two warriors are going to drench the canvas in their blood. Two fighters are going to give the cesspool British fans more than what they paid for. Two legends are going to lock horns once again but the results...they will be the same that they have been so many times in the past. A bloody, battered John Cavanagh holding championship gold and an overzealous, overachieving Fred Debonair laying with his shoulders flat on the mat...defeated.
The blonde-haired Irishman smiled at the camera.
John Cavanagh: See, the problem with you Mr. Debonair is that you think too much. You thought that it would be a good idea to stick your nose in my business. You thought you had a firm grasp on what would happen if you got involved. You thought that you would cost me the World Championship...you thought it would lead you to another encounter with the man that has ALWAYS been the better man...well, you thought right in those two examples. You cost me the World Championship and you got yourself another chance to dance with the greatest this company has ever seen. The problem for you though, you also thought it would be the day you would be able to defeat me. You also thought that decision you made at Up in Smoke would lead to the Debonair family reclaiming the championship they lost. Too bad, so sad, you weren't thinking straight at that moment. Too bad that you didn't think about all of the different ways I could get at you between Up in Smoke and Red Alert. The Debonair clan wasn't able to take a gander in their crystal ball and see the calamity that would be unleashed upon them. Fred was unable to realize that all he was doing was making a much more aggressive, much more dangerous John Cavanagh and that he was going to have to deal with that sick puppy all the way until he lost our match at Red Alert. So, Fred, how did it feel to get whacked with that steel chair by Trigger? Yeah, Trig took the loss and the smaller payday but as far as he was concerned, and myself by proxy, it was worth it to watch that metal crunch against your skull. Oh yeah, Fred, what about that ball bat? I'm sure that blunt object colliding against your body was a different form of deep tissue massage that you weren't exactly fond of. One more thing, that tag team loss? That must have brought back some old memories, huh? Memories of Freddie coming up short-handed against The Coalition back in Fearless Championship Wrestling? For Tyler, memories of losing his championship to me? Oh, the Debonair clan...a family dedicated to professional wrestling...a family that is a constant mockery of this sport at the same time. How cute.
The scene abruptly cuts to static.
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Post by Devlin Knight. on Dec 9, 2021 18:54:01 GMT
***The chill hits the Big Apple as the winter season continues. The silver Grand Cherokee makes its way along sixth avenue keeping pace with the taxis ahead of it, before slowly crawling into a parking spot outside a bar. The bar is called Connolly’s and the man behind the wheel knows exactly who he’s looking for. Fred Debonair opens the door to the Jeep and locks it before walking quietly towards the door. He’s dressed in an all black Tom Ford three-piece suit and a pair of sunglasses which he keeps in the blazer breast pocket. He drops the cigarette he’s been smoking and stubs it out before pushing the door open and making his way inside.
As he walks in, the sound of “Everybody wants to rule the world” by Tears for Fears echoes from the jukebox, eliciting a chuckle from Fred. This song had been playing at his third birthday, the day his “foster father” had been involved in a shoot-out with two of the McManus brothers on the Upper East-Side… The day that had claimed his “foster father” and almost made Fred an orphan for a second time, that was until a man by the name of Fion Tate took him in, as well as another boy… Abraham Greenberg and his own son, Micky. And now as Fred makes his way past the bar and the few oak dining booths, he looks the man straight in the eye, the man he used to call brother and that man… Micky Tate just stares back***
Fred: ”Well say something you big fuck, you look like Medusa got to ya!”
Micky: ”Is it actually you? Fred Debonair, after all these years?”
Fred: ”You know it’s me, Micky, you soppy shit. Now get up and give your brother a hug before somebody sees.”
***The man seated, who despite Fred’s comment isn’t “big” at all, stands and let’s out an audible laugh as he approaches and wraps his arms around Debonair who hugs him back but feels very awkward***
Fred: ”Ok, ok, put me down ya goof! Let me sit down man!”
Micky: ”Sorry Debo, but it’s been forever man… I mean, you just up and left home and we didn’t see you again until you turned up on TV Wrestling for the RWF.”
***Fred nods as he runs his hands over his face and sighs. He looks at Micky apologetically, raising his eyebrow***
Fred: ”I know, Mick… I know and I’m sorry about that. But things were tough, things were getting harder for me, living there.”
Micky: ”Like what? What could have been hard for you living with us? You were family, you’re my brother.”
Fred: ”I was getting hounded by the NYPD, hounded by the FBI, hounded by the Esposito’s…”
Micky: ”You were protected by The Syndicate…”
Fred: ”Micky, you’re not listening… It’s BECAUSE of The Syndicate I was getting all the shit I was!”
***Micky raises a hand in apology and clicks his fingers for a waiter to come over***
Micky: ”I know that, Fred but come on! It’s not like you weren’t part of the family now is it? Now come on have something to eat and a drink eh? Then you can tell me why you’re really here.”
Fred: ”Yeah, okay… I’ll grab a Remy on the rocks and get me a Chicken Parmesan… Thanks.”
Micky: ”I’ll get a Remy too and the Guinness grilled Rib Steak.”
**The waiter removes the menus from the table and thanks the two gentlemen, as “Don’t you (forget about me)” by Simple Minds begins to play. Fred shakes his head and chuckles***
Micky: ”Kind of feels like you’re in an episode of Stranger Things, don’t it? Now… Why you here, Fred? Not seen you in over twenty years and suddenly you come calling?”
Fred: ”Casie.”
Micky: ”What about her?”
Fred: ”I know you’ve called a meeting, I know she wants Conte and you’re about to serve him up. Don’t.”
Micky: ”What do you mean “don’t”? Why wouldn’t I stick to the agreement?”
***Fred looks at Micky square in the eyes and furrows his brow as he presses his knuckles onto the table. Micky noticed and looks back at Fred in surprise. The waiter brings over the drinks as both men swig them back***
Fred: ”What do you think she wants to do, Micky? Have a quiet friendly word?! She means to kill him… I know it won’t take her long to purchase a weapon and then her life will be over… So here’s what’s going to happen.”
Micky: ”Fred…”
Fred: ”She was your sister too, Micky. Think about that for a second, alright? Casie is also family.”
Micky: ”I can’t do it…”
Fred: ”Why not, Micky?! Give me one good reason why you can’t just call off this meeting?! I travelled here, from England to have this talk with you, when I’m supposed to be preparing for a huge match, one of the biggest of my career in fact.”
Micky: ”Simmer down shouty! Aside from the fact you’ve just got over here, after not seeing each other in over two decades and are shouting the odds! I already met with Casie an hour ago, I’ve given her the location…”
***Fred just glares at Micky as he knocks back another mouthful of his Remy Martin, not taking his eyes off of him. He sets the glass down and curls his upper lip***
Fred: ”Tell me… You’re kidding.”
Micky: ”I’m sorry, Fred… She promised me she just wanted to talk.”
Fred: ”And what if Conte don’t just wanna talk, Micky? What then? Fuck! Where is he?”
Micky: ”He’s down at the East River…”
***Fred sinks the last of his Cognac back and slams the glass on the table. Tells the waiter to give his Chicken Parmesan to “that fat fuck”, pointing at Micky and walks out of the bar. He jumps in the Jeep and guns the engine, speeding off toward the East River, as the scene slowly fades out…
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…We reopen along the East River not even five minutes later. Fred is standing by the Jeep Grand Cherokee now wearing a long wool and felt Peacoat. He’s looking around when he suddenly hears voices from a small, disused building down by the water and begins heading that way, checking the tool in his sleeve before he does so. He makes it to the building and sidles along the wall before getting to the door, looking inside what he sees makes him almost choke. Standing there, in casual conversation are his sister, Casie and that absolutely scumbag, Charlie Conte. Fred walks through the door, unabashed***
Fred: ”What the fuck is this??”
Casie: ”Fred?! Jesus! What the hell are you doing here?”
Charlie: ”Woah, Debonair. Been a while.”
Fred: ”Shut up, Charlie… I’m talking to my sister.”
Charlie: ”Hey man, whatever you say we’re good.”
Fred: ”No, we’re not good until I know what’s going on here, Casie?”
Casie: ”Fred, it’s fine. Everything is good…”
***Fred walks toward the two, but stops short by a pile of pallets that are situated in the centre of the room. He sits on the pile and crosses his arms over his chest***
Fred: ”So tell me how everything is good, Cas… When I get a call from Abe, telling me you’ve been looking for Conte after everything that’s happened??”
Charlie: ”Fred, if I may? Listen… I’ve not worked for the Patriarca family for a very long time now. And I mean a very long time… There was a point where they actually wanted me dead.”
Casie: ”It’s true, I’ve heard the voicemails and seen some of the photos.”
Charlie: ”I legitimately wanted to just see Michaela, that’s why I went to her school that day… Everything I’m doing is through the proper channels and above board.”
Casie: ”Also true, I’ve seen all the paperwork he’s filed.”
Fred: ”You turned up at her school with an army.”
Charlie: ”Oh c’mon, hardly! It was three men, a security detail. Did you miss the bit where I said, there was a time they wanted me dead?”
***Fred rubs his hand against his chin, looking at Casie, back to Charlie and then to Casie again***
Fred: ”And you’re buying this?”
Casie: ”I may not like this waste of seaman, but he’s definitely telling the truth… About all of it”
Charlie: ”Sheesh, thanks…”
Casie: ”Shut up. After what you did, you don’t get to talk. I don’t give a rats ass who you used to have wrapped around you… I fawned over you and then I feared you, Charlie. But not anymore…”
Charlie: ”I never expected you to, still don’t… Look when Patrick Feeny sent his brother to come and see me, I told him I heard him loud and clear because I did. Because I wasn’t about the life anymore… Look, both of you, I’m married now, I’ve got two children and I really hated that I’d missed out on Michaela’s life… That WE missed out on it. I’m honestly a changed man.”
***Fred slides off the pallets and walks towards Charlie, he lets the cosh slip from his sleeve and holds it up. He smirks slightly and opens his jacket, putting the weapon into his inside pocket***
Fred: ”I believe you… It’s a real shame because I wanted to use that. I’ll keep it close, just in case eh?”
Casie: ”So, you’ll be leaving now, eh? Back off to England for your Pay-Per-View, letting me focus on ours…?”
Fred: ”Yeeaaahh, not quite. I’ve got a huge match coming up this week, against John Cavanagh and I just want to take the time to relax and get my head on before I go home.”
Casie: ”Well, where are you staying?”
Fred: ”Where else? I’m staying with Abe…”
Charlie: ”Abe Greenberg?! That’s a name I’ve not heard in a while…”
Fred: ”Shut up, Charlie…”
***Fred reaches for his pocket again, but Casie shakes her head. He throws his hands up and turns around walking back out of the building as we once more fades out…
++++++++
…When we reopen we find ourselves on one of the old piers, along the Hudson River. Fred Debonair is leaning on the hood of his Jeep Grand Cherokee a red glow seems to be floating from his hand but as we close in, we see it’s the Cherry from the spliff he’s holding. He takes a long drag of it before blowing smoke rings in the night air***
Fred: ”You know, I remember the last time I sat here and was mentally psyching myself up to face John Cavanagh… It was some time around the end of FcW, before the merger with another promotion I didn’t even care enough to know about happened… I’ll be honest, I’m getting older and so the circumstances escape me, but it was one of the handful of matches we’ve had against one another… Matches that have gone one way or the other. We’re practically on equal footing John but of course you’ll claim to be up on me, in the wins column, of course you’ll claim to still be this beast and Fred Debonair the marked man… Of course you’ll act like I’m just “a punching bag” and irrelevant to your goal of holding belts and breaking bodies. Of course you would because John unaccountability and deniability are two traits of a coward. Yes John, to make it clear, I am calling you a coward.
You like to act tough John and yeah you’re one of the biggest, baddest, craziest sons of bitches I’ve ever had the fortune, or misfortune however you want to look at it, to meet. But that toughness, bravado whatever can only get you so far and if we all want to sit around the table and look at the truth, Cav… You’ve reached the end of the line. We grew up in very similar lifestyles you and I, but our journeys were somewhat different… We never ran in the same circles but we knew some of the same faces that’s for sure. But you, John, you seem to have some kind of problem with being on level pegging with anybody… I mean it has to be about John Cavanagh or nothing right? You get worried too, when someone comes along and possibly steals your limelight and you take the same opportunistic front that most desperate men do… You take the “if you can’t beat them, join them… And then beat them” route. And okay it might work for you some of the time, but there comes a point where you’ve got to sit back and think… What the fuck am I doing?!”
***Fred takes another toke of the joint and closes his eyes as the smoke wisps slowly from between his lips. A crease appears on his lip as he tries not to laugh***
Fred: ”And oh, how desperate you must have been, John… Turning up at Worlds Collide right as my son wins the IIW International Title and making it all about you… I mean, anyone would have thought you planned it all, knowing who my son was and knowing exactly what he thought about you growing up… Anyone would have thought your objective was to push a narrative so hard you convinced Fred Debonair to come out of active retirement. John, do I really live in your head that much, rent free?! Did I really anger you that badly, get under your skin enough that you genuinely an entire decade on, pursued a belt my son was carrying, in order to hurt him enough to get me here?! You messed his leg up so bad he was out of action for two months Cav and you think that’s okay so long as you had my attention?! Heh… Well of course you’re going to say “don’t flatter yourself Fred, the belt was there for the taking, it was just a bonus it was your kid holding it and I’ve managed to get you out in the open” blah blah, shut it, Johnny!
Let’s just have it right here and now… You don’t care about me, I’m just the newest annoyance in your way. You’re all about hurting people and taking belts! But let’s also have it that you’re angry, you’re seething and foaming at the mouth because I managed to screw up your shot at Jake and the World Title! I managed to be that little lynchpin you couldn’t put back in once you’d pulled… Once you’d triggered. I warned you, John… I told you that if you wanted me, you come to me… Don’t think you’re doing something special by attacking Tyler to “send a message” because again, Cavanagh that’s cowardly! Don’t send those goons you wrap yourself around, after me either! John you actually took the time to put a plan together, to send Andy and Trigger out to try and stop me getting this shot at you… You, John Cavanagh aren’t a leader of men, you aren’t a one-man dynasty, you my friend are a Poltroon. You surround yourselves with these guys who’re either complete yes men, psychotic individuals or both… You align yourselves with people willing to take the drop for you and say nothing about it. And whilst some may look at you and think damn, that’s smart… I see the real intention John, the real you. I don’t see dirty deeds behind your eyes Cav, I don’t see fury and I don’t see a man who wants to hurt people and cause pain. Behind your eyes John, I see fear, I see panic and I see utter hopelessness, despair even. Why? Because you’re beginning to realise that at Red Alert it’ll be just you… And me. Screw Andy Donahue, screw Christopher Cavanagh… Don’t you see, Johnny boy? There’s nowhere left for you to run.”
***Fred drops the roach-end of his spliff and kicks it toward the water, before pushing himself up straight and walking towards what’s left of the jetty leading out to the Hudson. He picks up a couple of stones and begins slowly skimming them into the water***
Fred: ”When you first arrived here, John, you told everybody that we wound up making amends because it was good for business… So, is that why you’re so emotional over me? Are you still angry that I decided to walk away when FcW’s promotion merger went ahead? I mean Johnny I genuinely thought we were pals! You didn’t return any of my calls after I left, but now it makes sense… It suddenly dawned on you that you couldn’t do what you wanted to do, without Fred Debonair at your side… You of course will dismiss that John and you’ll claim that you made huge waves between FcW’s merger and arriving in FCPW then IIW but we both know the truth and in fact Johnathan I had you sussed from the day you “handed” me the FcW World Title! It was funny man because you legitimately believed that in Fred Debonair you had not only a wing-man and a running mate, but a stooge! You genuinely believed in your heart of hearts that Fred Debonair was your yes man of the era and you felt superior when in truth, Cav, I was just doing what I’ve always done. Living my best life, climbing my own ladder and befriending who I needed to, to get where I was… I mean I for sure thought you’d done your homework on me prior to my debut over at FcW and knew exactly who I was, my stories past and all that but the more I think back on it the more I understand you didn’t have a clue…
But you’ll soon learn, John. You’ll soon learn that unlike most of the guys you wrapped around you, I’m not about that… You’ll soon see that in even asking Fred Debonair all those years ago if he wanted to join The Coalition, was one of the biggest mistakes you’ll ever make in your lifetime because John that had been my plan the entire time and I think you’re only just beginning to figure it out, aren’t you? I had FcW scouted before I even walked in the door, I had all their best hires etched in my brain and once I signed the contract, I went to work… You see John this is my point, you’re not the clever General you think you are, you’re not the smartest guy in the room and you’re not even the most conniving! John Cavanagh next to Fred Debonair is a second rate liability to every path he walks and right now you had best be worried about holding on to that damn belt, because at Red Alert I’m ready to take that, but oh so much more Johnny… I’m coming to take your dignity, I’m coming to take your pride… I’m coming to take every last bit of ego you have remaining at the time we meet and I’m going to strip you of everything!”
***Fred launches one last stone into the water and spins on a dime as he makes his way back towards the Jeep, he climbs inside but doesn’t shut the door as he continues to look at the view on the other side of the water***
Fred: ”Growing up I never imagined leaving this place, I never imagined leaving home and travelling the world but I did… However in doing so, John, I never quite got this place out of my heart. The Big Apple was always there, right at the forefront of everything and I think you know exactly what I mean by that; don’t you John? However the other thing that has always been close to my heart and embedded in my soul, is wrestling… It’s never left me, no matter how much I tried to convince myself I was out, you’re always pulled back in at one time in your life or another. Same for family, right Cav? Shit can happen that makes you want to turn away and say I’m done but you know deep down that’s just words coming out of your mouth while the rest of you knows different… You want to walk away, but matter of factly you love every, single, exhilarating moment of it and never want it to leave your system, ever. It’s like a drug… A very costly, drug.
As I mentioned you’ve been going around saying that anything that happens to Tyler is down to me, we’ll John trust me when I say anything and everything that happens to you, is down to you and you alone! You’ve always known Fred Debonair to be a showman, a performer, a self-publicist if you will, but believe me Cav when I tell you that right now I’m anything but… You see my old friend, acquaintance, colleague… You think that what has happened here, is what you wanted to happen all along. You think that waking a sleeping demon is some kind of game to you… Let’s “rile up” ol’ Fred Debonair and see what happens… But it doesn’t work like that, Jonathan… You done followed a path that I can assure you, you’ll regret. A path that I can promise you, you won’t like. Forget about Fearless Championship Wrestling, John… Forget about The Coalition, forget about your brother or Andy, Tyler or La Revolución. This is Frederick James Debonair facing off against John Joseph Cavanagh the third… Nobody else, nothing else. It’ll be fun, don’t you think? The King of Kings against The Original… Names never to be sullied by those who walk beneath them! Just answer me one question, John… Just because I know you’ll say you no longer have one. Do you remember where you hid your soul? Because trust me when I tell you, Cav, along with everything else I told you I’ll take at Red Alert, that’s coming with me too… Now, if you’ll excuse me my work out here is done… It’s time to hop on the plane back to Manchester. Enjoy the rest of your week, John.”
***Fred closes the door to the Jeep, guns the engine and begins to reverse away from the pier. The headlights completely blinding us, until he does a one-eighty onto the road and the scene begins to fade - to - black!***
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Post by Devlin Knight. on Dec 11, 2021 8:08:22 GMT
***The wheels of the Jeep Grand Cherokee slowly make their way down sixth avenue, towards Hell’s Kitchen. We pan out to spot Fred Debonair driving the Cherokee and inputting a number on his phone. He looks up as traffic lights up ahead have just turned red as he slows to a stop. He puts his ear piece in as the call is answered***
Fred: ”It’s me… I’ve changed my mind about flying back tonight, I’ve got some things I want to check out, get the plane ready for around fifteen hundred hours tomorrow. And get your head down, as I won’t be coming back tonight… Alright. Have a good one.”
***He continues along the road until he sees it up ahead on his right. He pulls the car slowly alongside the many people queuing up to get inside the club… He hops out of the Jeep and locks it, before walking quietly up to the doormen. They look him up and down before one of the men jumps back in recognition***
Man: ”Ah! Mr. Debonair! We definitely weren’t expecting you tonight so. How are you?”
Fred: ”I’ve told you, Patrick. Call me Fred. I’m good, just out here having to deal with a few things. How are things with you?”
***Patrick Feeny and his brother Michael had used to run their operations out of Phili; but recently Fred had gotten them both jobs in NYC so he moved his family East to be there***
Patrick: ”We’re good so we are. The wife actually wanted me to thank you too, that school she works in she said is amazing and the kids are all angels. You coming in?”
Fred: ”Well that’s good to hear, I’m pleased. Is he in?”
Patrick: ”He is.”
Fred: ”Then of course I am.”
***Fred goes to walk in as Patrick steps aside, but as soon as he does he feels someone grab his shoulder. Fred spins around, grabbing hold of the man’s arm and scowls***
Fred: ”Can I help you, friend?”
Man: ”Get off me bro! You’ve broken my hand! What makes you think you can just walk in before us?!”
Fred: ”Well, “bro”, what does it say up there? What’s the name of the club?”
Fred points up to the canopy above the club that reads “Debonair”. He tilts his head in an action that states “there you go” as he releases the man’s hand***
Fred: ”And if you and your buddies wanna come in, I suggest you keep quiet. Oh and I bent your hand, I don’t break on first warnings. But Paddy, give this man, his date and his friends two free drinks vouchers each, whatever they want, by way of a misunderstanding…”
***Patrick and the other doorman laugh as Fred walks in, leaving the aggravated man just standing there dumbfounded. Fred is met by one of the staff of the club, who guides him to a VIP area. Fred asks the staff member to grab him a bottle of Remy with one glass and to tell “the manager” that the owner is here to have a chat. He then kicks back and watches the people walking around and dancing on the dance floor. The staff member brings over his bottle and Fred pours it into the glass, telling the kid to leave the bottle. The music playing is oldschool house music and the patrons of the club look very deep into the music by the shapes of their eyes and their tongues hanging out of their mouths… He notices a couple of girls in the corner completely off their faces, gurning at the mouth, their eyes rolling. Fred follows their every move until they fall into the ladies’ bathroom. His eyes dart to the side as the clubs manager, Brendan Quinn, comes walking toward the VIP section, glass in hand. Fred stands up and smile as Brendan holds out his arms and they share a quick hug before sitting down with Brendan pouring himself a glass of Remy from the bottle***
Brendan: ”Wow, my brother we all thought you’d died and left no notice or anything!”
Fred: ”Well that’s one of the perks of owning a club and having someone like you in charge, eh Bren?”
Brendan: ”Well you know I do my best, Fred…”
Fred: ”I know you do man, or I’d have been out here sooner…”
Brendan: ”But there is something we’ve got to discuss.”
Fred: ”I’ve seen them. So who’s doing it?”
Brendan: ”There’s a small group who hang around the bathroom and deal from there. They’ve been doing this for months now, I think they’re just some little upstarts from Queens, they’re definitely not connected that’s for sure…”
***Fred knocks back another glass of Remy before nodding, placing the glass on the table and holding a finger up as he begins to walk away from the VIP booth. He walks through a set of double doors and down a corridor, as the music begins to be drowned out by silence… As he reaches the bathroom he notices a couple of young guys standing there against the wall. As Fred goes to push the door open, he’s interrupted.”
Man: ”Sorry man, someone’s using it.”
Fred: ”All six cubicles and the urinals?”
Man: ”What’s it to you, old man?!”
***Fred doesn’t even think twice as the guys square up to him, before lashing out at the man’s friend with the cosh which he slides from his sleeve. He then grabs the man and bundles him up against the wall, searching his pockets and finding a few bags of pills which he shoved into his coat. He grabs him and steamrolls him down the corridor, kicking open the emergency exit and launching the man out into the alley. A few seconds later and he has his unconscious friend joining him on the wet road***
Fred: ”I don’t think you gentlemen realise where you are, but let me break it down for you a little bit alright? If I see, or hear, of you little half-breed fucks, dealing in my club again… We’re gonna have a problem. Do we understand each other?!”
***The man scrambles to his feet nodding and picking up his friend, rousing him awake as they both nod and run off down the alley. Fred shuts the doors to the emergency exit and walks back to the dance floor, crossing over to his booth and sitting down next to Brendan, who pours him another drink***
Fred: ”All sorted brother, you guys can buy and sell as you please now those weasels are gone… Now, let’s enjoy our evening.”
***Fred and Brendan clink glasses and laugh as they watch the clubbers come and go throughout the evening, the scene beginning to slowly disintegrate into nothingness…
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The scene reopens on a closeup of a clock, above the DJ booth in the club, it reads 4:30am. Everybody has gone home, the lights are up and the cleaners are already hard at work scrubbing alcohol, vomit, saliva and God knows what else, off of the floor… As we move around the dance floor, podiums and bar space we hear the sound of chatter and laughter. We pan and find a VIP booth occupied by Brendan Quinn, Fred Debonair and two unknown female Acquaintances who are all sharing another bottle of Remy Martin***
Brendan: ”You know I can’t say I know this John Cavanagh fella, Fred, but I have heard the name throughout my time here and living in Hell’s Kitchen. I do however remember him quite a lot through the time I watched you in that Fearless Championship Wrestling place…”
Fred: ”Oh yeah of course Brenno, I’ve heard that a lot through the years… I guess people were too scared to say they knew who John Cavanagh was, even to the point that his next door neighbours claimed to have never met him… You know what he once said though? Get this right, he actually told people that I “stole” the FcW World Title! I mean the balls on that guy but it’s typical ain’t it? When you’re going against somebody who you know you don’t even hold a candle to, you start to downplay their abilities you try to get into their heads and make them think they’re not as good… Gas lighting I believe is the word I’m looking for.”
Brendan: ”Indeed it is, Fred.”
Fred: ”That plan was concocted I mean sure it played into my hands but it was something we’d discussed before even going out to that ring, we devised the whole thing between us and he knew full well how it was gonna go down. I can’t help if his ego since he gotten the best of the man… I like the way he continues to proclaim how we never had a friendship, how it was all out of convenience and business, it works better for me when I chow down on his self-confidence or what’s left of it by the time I’m done. You know why he does this right? He does it because this man fears commitment! He fears calling anybody a friend. He fears proper relationships just ask Shannon! And don’t get me started on his own brother Trigger and that Andy! They’re not his “friends” or even family, they’re Footsoldiers… Nothing more and nothing less!”
Brendan: ”Oh ain’t that the truth, my friend…”
***The girls are kissing on Fred and Brendan’s lips and necks as they talk, alcohol flowing freely as Debonair takes another swig of Cognac. He slams the glass down, almost daring himself to smash it, both men shh’ing each other and laughing***
Fred: ”He started talking before about how he’s continued to train and wrestle since leaving FcW as if he thinks I’ve done nothing but sit on my ass… I ran through a few promotions just prior to “retiring” like SCCW, NACW and so on and I’ve ran an Academy for years. The problem with the guy is that he thinks everything happening is only in John Cavanagh world and anything achieved by anyone else, didn’t happen. Much like his World Title win, in IIW… Take me for example, much like Trigger and Andy are now… John thought he’d consider me his “second in command” I mean he actually thought I was there to do nothing but follow orders and whilst I was there counting heads, taking names, planning what was to come and reaping rewards that ignorant, arrogant son of a bitch was genuinely just going about his business and not even realising he’d been had! It was the biggest goof he’d ever pulled off and still the gabhdán doesn’t realise it!
He told Tyler recently that I marched to the beat of the drum, poor fool… He’s genuinely deluded himself into believing that he’s the be all and end all and that anyone who he wraps himself around is just there for him… I thought maybe he was beginning to pick up on what had happened all those years ago but either he tries to mask the realisation because it’s too darn embarrassing for him or he legitimately believes things were the way he claims they were and in either case on a different day I’d probably feel bad for him, but you know what Brendan? He can get to fuck for all I care!”
Brendan: ”You got that right, Fred… I mean, I remember a time when he took stuff out on Tyler, because he wasn’t able to with you… What a pussy!”
Fred: ”I remember it well, man… It was just before he won the International Title from Ty. I distinctly remember him saying something like he may not have the opportunity to let his vengeance reign down on me, well now he has! Now he’s got that opportunity and he’s got plenty of it. If he wants to reign anything down on me, he knows exactly where to find me, I’ll be right there in the ring waiting. But what vengeance was he even speaking about? What “wrong” have I done John Cavanagh, other than walking away from FcW when it went through the merger?! I already spoke about this and I’m even more convinced now that this is Cav’s issue! He’s pissed that Fred Debonair walked away and left John to fend for himself! He’s angry and upset, poor soul! Diddums… Nah screw that! I’m not sorry one iota for the career path I chose and if John is genuinely upset by that, which he’ll say he wasn’t, but he is… He just sounds like a whinging little bitch!
I mean Jesus to speak the way he’s been speaking and yet to say he felt they didn’t need me there and he wasn’t upset that I’d walked?! John Cavanagh isn’t only a coward, he isn’t only a detractor… He’s also a walking contradiction! The guy told anyone who’d listen there was no animosity or toxicity from him, toward me for my choices and then proceeded to talk about how bad it was and how out of order it was, that I walked away… I just don’t even know where to begin with all that, man! I’m still wondering why he’s got his bitch ass brother hanging off his shoulder when Chris didn’t complete his objective at stopping me all those weeks ago. John’s also apparently going on some huge reign of terror, Brendan… You heard about this? This big “thing” Cav is doing because of me, poking my nose in?”
Brendan: ”Not really, Fred… What’s that all about then??”
***Fred fills his glass once again, this time only half full and knocks the shot of Remy back in one go. He whispers something to the girl now practically in his lap, pulls out a few notes from his pocket and hands them to her before she kisses him and leaves with the girl sitting with Brendan***
Fred: ”John wasn’t too fond of the fact that I tripped him in his World Title match against Jake and he got pissed… Now between us I reckon Jake had him anyway but that’s another story for another time. Cav called me a coward piece of shit, because I personally walked to the ring and tripped him up, potentially costing him the belt, but now explain something to me, please? If I’m the coward piece of shit for fronting Johnny and looking him square in the eye after doing what I did… What does that make him, not even being able to do that, so sending The Celtic Club to try and screw me over in my match? Which didn’t work by the way! But you see my point right, Brenno? How John can even sit there and whinge about what happened whilst calling me a coward after what he orchestrated is beyond me… BEYOND me!
So now, John is unhappy with yours truly and wants to make him pay. Only problem is, I don’t carry cash and John talks so much bullshit but doesn’t have it in him to cash the checks that are written! He wants to make me pay, he wants to show the world of IIW why you shouldn’t cross “The one Man Dynasty” the only problem with that though, is that I already crossed him before now and I’m still standing because no matter what he says about me or what he does, Cavanagh knows he doesn’t have it in him! You know he said all this prior to a six man tag match that included Tyler and my old pal Mike Arches… And whilst he did bruise Tyler up a little bit with my own bat for that matter! He hasn’t quite done the job he’s been promising people so… Maybe he’ll get his chance at Red Alert, what do you reckon, Brendan?”
Brendan: ”Ah maybe he will Fred, maybe he won’t. Only he’ll know it and soon so will you… But I’m definitely seeing a little light-foot about the guy sure enough I am…“
Fred: ”Let’s not twist things though, Brendan… John knows exactly what to do in the middle of the ring. He’ll size you up and he’ll cut you down. He doesn’t waste any time in doing so neither! And one thing you need to be weary of with John Cavanagh is he’s always got something up his sleeve, always got some gameplan in the pipeline. It just brings us back to having yes men on his arm, like Andy and Trigger… But it’s the delusional side for me! It’s that which I’ve come across just recently that sends me reeling every time I think about it! You see what’ll likely happen now, Bren, is that Cav will live off of the beatdown Tyler and I took at the hands of The Celtic Club the other week. He wasn’t involved in any way, shape or form but he’ll definitely be taking credit for it! Despite the fact that Tyler is currently in the middle of preparing for a number one contenders match for the IIW World Title and I’m sat here preparing to take back my sons International Title and make it prestigious!”
Brendan: ”And he and his boys have to sit back and lick their wounds, eh… Listen, Fred, that lass is waiting for me by the bar, I’m going to have to go. What did you say to your friend?”
Fred: ”Just that I’m closing up here in half hour, to wait upstairs outside the office… Go on man, take her home. I’ll call you when I’m in the air.”
***Fred and Brendan hug and the manager leaves as Debonair sits back down and kicks his legs up onto the table. He closes his eyes and leans his head right back facing the ceiling***
Fred: ”Seems like there’s some trouble in paradise, eh John? I mean I’ll be honest I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to see what a mook Donahue is but oh well! Can’t always see what’s right in front of your eyes can you? First Andy and now what I’m going to do to you at Red Alert! Also let me just correct you, big guy, because I don’t give a shit what response Andy would have given you, you’re both wrong… The reason your goons were able to take advantage of the situation against Tyler and myself was because we were caught off guard around the end of the match… If you can’t admit that we had your stooges beat before that last mistake I made then you’re even more of a delusional fool, or a straight up lying bitch, than I thought… But I digress, everybody and their mothers know what a meathead Andy Donahue is… Trigger knows what a meathead Andy Donahue is, why can’t you see it, John? Why can’t you comprehend that this route of wrapping yourself around dickheads like that is what’s going to cause your downfall… That and Fred Debonair of course.
You’re also wrong about another thing, Johnny-kins… Do you honestly believe Tyler and I are walking into this without motivation? Come on man, have you forgotten who I am?! I’m Fred Debonair, I’ve gone from losing a World Title to destroying six other men in a seven deadly sins match two weeks later to regain that rat-bastard, brother I’m walking into Red Alert fired up like nobodies business and I know matter of factly, given what’s on the line against Curtis, Tyler is doing exactly the same. You talk about progress John, yet here you are still living off the words of those who’ve come before you and giving handouts to two jumped up twerps who’ll bite your hands off the second you turn your back, yes Chris is your brother but if you think he’s different I’ve got a bridge to sell you… And if you think this is progress? Then wow. But hey! If you’re honestly sick of holding the IIW International Title then you can thank me for taking it on Sunday…”
***Fred opens his eyes and leans forward on the table, pushing his glass slightly to the side as a cleaner with a mop begins to wipe around where he’s sitting. It’s takes a moment, but he finally spots the look Fred is giving him and shuffles away apologetically. Fred looks down***
Fred: ”You’ve said it yourself, John… If you’re not progressing, you’re not relevant… And whilst I’m walking into IIW, having a couple of matches and moving forward to the point where despite losing, I’ve still got my shot at you and the International Title and you’re just stagnating and staying where you are… I’m not saying that you’re a little less relevant than me right now… You’re saying that you’re a little less relevant than me right now. Everything I’ve spoken on recently have been blind faux pas that you’ve been spouting since joining IIW, I thought perhaps you’d have learned your lesson but no… Not even a little bit. You actually talk with your ego out high about how you could easily just walk in, pin me and leave? Brother that’s some my dad can beat your dad bullshit and you know it… Embarrassing isn’t even the word for what kind of false belief you have bestowed upon yourself.
Oooh Johnny has his big boy britches on eh?! John Cavanagh saying big words and hoping that someone out there will listen to all that huffing and puffing! Hey John, just in case you haven’t cottoned on to it yet, or what I said before hasn’t been made “abundantly clear”; Fred Debonair doesn’t scare easily and I’m certainly not scared of you… Oh hold on, here’s where Cav comes out with something like “Hey Fred, you’re not scared?! Oh you should be pal! And trust me when I say…” John? I don’t care! And man you do this to yourself… Ever since you waltzed into IIW from FCPW you’ve been passive-aggressive with my son, you’ve made the snarkiest comments at him and at me… You have shown me ZERO respect and it’s just gotten to that point now, when I’ve just had enough of it man! It’s boring! You don’t need to be this guy, you’re better than this. You’re actually a physically imposing, mentally capable individual but right now you’re just coming across like a caveman or something… OH! Me John Cavanagh! Me angry! Me take your psyche! I’m sure that felt good when people ran from you, or they cowed at your presence, but what about now John? What about when people square right back up to you? What about when people aren’t shaking? Aren’t bending to your whim? The tide changes then, eh man?? And when I hear anyone say they want to toss the memory of me as far in the rearview mirror as they can, only one thing springs to my mind, John… Fear.
Fear that you’re never going to get out of this slump… Fear that the man you’ve been battling for the last little while is taking over and fear more-so that there’s nothing you can do about it. Comprehend something John, ok? Think back, realise and understand that it was YOU who came looking for me! It was YOU who used my son to try and at me… Who in their right minds does all of that and then bemoans the fact they’ve been set up with the best there is?! The last cog I believe you called me, well just be ready John, because they go missing the slippery little bastards! But you know all about that right?”
***Fred smirks as he looks at his watch and fills the glass up again. He clicks his tongue against his teeth after taking another mouthful, keeping it in his hands as he closes his eyes once more***
Fred: ”You asked, rhetorically I assume, why I came along at Up in Smoke and ruined your chances at being the IIW World Champion… I’ve already answered that but I’ll happily do so again. You see Cav in case you forgot, earlier on in the night in my match against Liam Cain, you’d sent The Celtic Club up to try and take me out! But it didn’t work John and I went backstage and I had a think about it and I came to the realisation that you know, Andy and Trig? They do absolutely nothing without your say-so! They wouldn’t have come out there during my match unless you’d sent them, so I was pretty calm about it all but I got bored, I got bored while waiting for Distoner and Meyers and decided to come out there to the ring and deal with the situation! There was no anger, no “stupidity” I simply did it John, because I could. I did it because the opportunity presented itself and I took it… The real question you should be asking yourself though John, isn’t too do with me or why I did it, it should be where the hell were my boys Andy and Chris? Where were they to stop Fred Debonair getting to John Cavanagh?!
It’s also cute that you act like none of this bothered you too, John, it really is. If it hadn’t bothered you, you sure as hell wouldn’t be reacting the way you are, you wouldn’t allow it to get to you and crawl under your skin… You’re right about one thing though John, Jake has definitely been free-wheeling his way through IIW with that belt since he won it back in March and of course you could have been the one to remove the belt from his waist, I mean I doubt you’d have done it John but of course it’s possible. But you see I’d rather Jake keep the World Title for another six months if it means you don’t get your hands on it… You are sounding very frosty though Johnny boy, very anxious and a little desperate if you ask me! I’m not sure who you’re trying to convince more or whose head you’re trying to get into, because I’ve got to say man, it’s definitely not mine…
You are starting to sound like you’re suffering with something John… I wouldn’t quite call it PTSD, more like historical negationism, or to be a little more basic, denialism. You’re tending to rewrite history the way you think it should be told and not how it actually is… You claim Trigger had my number before he was disqualified in our match? Well that’s a barrel of laughs for a start! It was a back and forth but I was dominating that match for the most part until your other lackey got involved… No doubt another ruse from you. I’m honestly not sure what’s going on in that head of yours, Cav… Attack Fred then try and gaslight him, is that it? Because that’s what this feels like brother! For someone who feels I’ve got my head in the past John, you sure do bring it up a lot my friend, a hell of a lot in fact… It seems to me that’s where most of your unhindered success comes from and there’s a part of you who just wants to keep living that life, be in that time when John Cavanagh was a force to be reckoned with, a man people tried to avoid and that just isn’t you I’m afraid…”
***Fred knocks back the last of the Remy, walks to the bar and slams the glass on top of it. He turns away from it but leans up against it, looking at the quiet, well lit club***
Fred: ”You deflect a lot don’t you John? Denialism, deflection, projection… It’s all on you. You take everything you’re bad at; make it worse and put it on the narrative of your opposition… Think you’re as good as you once were, oh that’s what Fred does. Are confident people including friends and family are scared of how, oh that’s what Fred Debonair believes… It’s just beginning to get tiresome Cav! You actually think you have it all figured out… Bless you. You actually think, just like in FcW, that this is a search and destroy mission, when it actual fact, it’s a hostage situation and guess who the hostage is? I’ll give a clue… It isn’t me. As I said Jonathan I didn’t join you because you wanted me to. I didn’t join you because you asked…. I took you along for the ride and you didn’t even realise it!
Remember this, if you remember nothing else about this chat we’ve had today John… Nothing has ever been quite what it seems, from the day we met upto now and you’re going to start with that first match we ever participated in together… You keep crying about what I did wrong in that match, leaving the steel cage once you gave me the belt, but I didn’t want to wait and why should I? I was in the same match as you, I had all the same rights as you as a competitor to win the match, I owed you absolutely nothing! It’s the hypocrisy that stuns me though, Cav, the sheer sanctimonious bullshit that escapes your lips whenever you talk about incidents between us… You act like you’d never have done the exact same thing of things were reversed, when we both know you’d have jumped at it. You got one thing right though John, as I said this will be one for the ages and it’ll be a conflict between two massive, legendary egos, two gigantic armour propre’s but you’re also right about there being one outcome! But it’s not going to be the one you think it is, my friend…
Before I let this go until Red Alert, I also just want to make one thing crystal clear, Johnny… You made mention of my baby, Cindy-Lee, my bat… I know you still have her. On Sunday night I’m definitely taking you to task and I’ll be bringing her back home where she belongs… She will be the catalyst for all this, John… First the bat, then your ego, your self worth, your pride, your dignity, your spirit and then your soul… And finally the IIW International Title! Enjoy what’s left of the weekend as the Champ John, because a lot is going to change… A lot is going to be different when you wake up on Monday morning. Prepare yourself for what’s to come, because it won’t be pretty that I can promise you! Okay I’ve got to get back to the office, that broad has been waiting for ages. Sleep well, Cav.”
***Fred pushes away from the bar and makes his way through the staff only door, toward the back office as we fade - to - black!***
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Post by The Celtic Club on Dec 11, 2021 23:28:51 GMT
The black night sky was lit up with dots of light of differing sizes throughout the skyline. The skyline began to pan out to show the many varying size buildings of the New York City skyline from the sky. The camera panned down towards a pair of wheat colored Timberland boots resting on top of a metal fire escape.
John Cavanagh: So you finally decided to open that trap of yours…huh?
The glistening orange light of the cherry from the tip of a blunt began to shimmer as a pair of white fingers wrapped around the hand rolled marijuana cigar ever so gently. John Cavanagh sat there for a moment as he inhaled the intoxicating smoke and allowed the THC to seep through the alveoli in his lungs and hit the bloodstream. The euphoric effects were one of the few pleasures John enjoyed more than pummeling an opponent at any given opportunity. Cavanagh began to exhale the fumes through his nostril cavity as he gathered his thoughts. John slightly cocks his head backwards, he places the blunt in an ashtray as he begins to speak.
John Cavanagh: How did I know that the moment I spoke that good old Fred Debonair would finally grow a set of cojones and start to share every thought that was sparked in that petrid little brain of his. That is kind of the way it has always been with you Fred, never courageous enough to speak the first word…never brave enough to shoot off the first salvo of a battle either. It's very much like you're still that same coward I met when you got signed to the FCW. That first day you strolled into the locker room back then, staring off like a deer lost in headlights and then proceeded to divulge your verbal diarrhea about who you are, where you came from, what you did and all the no-name useless sacks of shit that you did it too.
John sucked his teeth and shook his head while a small smirk began to grow into a wide, toothy grin that engulfed the Irishman's face. With each breath John exhaled the crisp, December air was apparent yet he remained relaxed. Next to him sat a table with a double shot glass filled with liquid, a green Jameson bottle sat beside the shot glass.
John Cavanagh: Seems as if regardless of how much things change, some things just remain the same. Maybe you were too busy holding Tyler's hand as your pathetic excuse for an offspring is trying to earn his opportunity to job to Jake E. Dangerously. Maybe it wasn't the cat having your tongue, maybe it wasn't fear, maybe you were just continuing your paternal duties. Well, regardless of what excuse Freddy Boy decides to conjure up for why it took him so long to address me…it doesn't matter. You can say that you were training, you were reliving the past, you can bullshit the world that you were being a good dad and making sure that Tyler was one-hundred percent prepared for his match against Curtis…but…as the expression goes Fred, you can't bullshit a bullshitter. You're not going to be able to sit there and weasel your way out of this one. You're not going to be able to convince me that you were stressed for time or you had more important things to get done…let's face reality, let's kick the goddamn ballistics on this one. Fred Debonair was at a loss for words, the patriarch of La Revolucion sat silent for all of this time because he had no idea what to say. Fred Debonair, after all of these years building up the hype in his own mind was unable to perform at the level he had grown accustomed to. I can recall in the past the moment you had an opportunity to speak my name myself and the rest of The Coalition would need a baseball bat to shut you up. Yet here we stand with Fred Debonair waiting for Johnnie Cav to pass gas before Fred Debonair clogs up the faculties of the rest of the roster with his ever so predictable shit.
John shook his head, his calloused hands running through his blonde hair while his ice blue eyes stared back into the camera. The wrinkles on top of his forehead moving backwards as his thoughts come back together.
John Cavanagh: Fred, everyone who saw you walk out and debut the night I defeated your spawn knew from that moment on…Johnnie Cav and Fred Debonair were destined to square off in an IIW ring. Let's face reality, if you and I were in a promotion together–it wasn't long before all eyes were on us. With that being said, why should IIW be any different? You have a card that includes Jake defending the World Championship and his undefeated streak against Jonny C, your demon spawn challenging Curtis for the next World Championship match, a six person ladder match, et cetera, yet here we stand…with the International Championship showdown between two people that many consider legends of our sport, and it just happens to be stealing all of the spotlight. Honestly, Freddy Boy, I wouldn't expect anything less…as a matter of fact I would be outright shocked if we weren't the two stealing all of the limelight from the others that happen to share the card with us.
The Irishman stood to his feet, he looked out over the city to his old neighborhood. His shoulders raised as he inhaled, he looked down to the streets below and calmly spoke.
John Cavanagh: The interesting part about us Fred, sometimes we aren’t so different. Both of us have kissed the Blarney and received the gift of gab. Both of us can cut a promo and dissect every action our upcoming opponent has ever had down to the most minute of details. Both of us have our own point of view and our own version of reality. Neither of us have never been known to cower away from a challenge. I could probably think of a few other ways that we are very similar but what’s the point when there are such glaring differences. A long time ago when we first met I was the Hell’s Kitchen boy while you were just some generic bullshit artist calling yourself “The Original”. The guy who had a nickname that he thought was clever, the dude that came from another promotion and strutted around like he was already better than everyone…then what happened to “The Original”? Well, that douchebag met an asshole named John Cavanagh…and The Original found out that he was just a second rate wrestler at that point. You ran across a King that wasn’t prepared to let you walk all over his kingdom. It’s kind of a similar tale to Jake so far in IIW. Jake is on a rampage, can anyone defeat him? That was the same situation you walked into so long ago back in Fearless Championship Wrestling. You came there and thought “easy pickings”. You went into the ring and found out you weren’t prepared for the beast that stood across from you. And what’s more? Johnnie Cav never needed someone to trip Fred Debonair to take home a victory. But, Freddy Boy, you needed to take any piece of me you could to legitimize yourself back then in New York. Didn’t you?
The One Man Dynasty continues to look out to the Kitchen, a slight smirk engulfs the right side of his face as he continued his thought process.
John Cavanagh: This neighborhood molded me, as it has many other generations…it's a neighborhood steeped in tradition and history. Some of the history and tradition viewed as a positive and some viewed in a more negative light. Call it whatever you wanna call it but let's make one think absolutely clear Freddy Boy…this is Johnnie Cav’s world and this is Johnnie Cav’s neighborhood. I’ve let your charades go on long enough “whilst” you play people for fools. It’s sad for me to say, but I mean, I might as well let the world in on your little secret. When we first met—you never claimed to be from my neighborhood. Then all of a sudden, you wind up in the World Championship picture and Fred Debonair has some family ties to Hell’s Kitchen? I can see you’re still sitting around paying actors to pretend they’re potato eaters from the old neighborhood. Listen pal, anyone who actually lives around these parts knows the sad reality…us micks just ain’t around no more. Why do you think we are dying? Why do you think I took a guy like Andy Donahue and put him to work inside of the squared circle? The rackets have dried up, the neighborhood has been gentrified and the good old Patricks and Shannons have left the West Side for Westchester, North Jersey or even worse…Long Island. And that wasn’t enough riding on Johnnie Cav’s coattails for you…was it Freddy Boy? No, it wasn’t. You still had to dig a bit further…you had to find a way to earn your keep and gain your stripes in The Coalition. You had to convince me, Trigger, Sevrena, Bam Bam and a few others that Fred Debonair, the douchebag that referred to himself as “The One '' could actually be a team player. Well, I think it’s safe to say that Fred doesn’t know what the definition of the word “team” means in all actuality. Without reliving the moment you were able to “win” the World Championship yet again, I’ll save the people at home the anguish of reliving a moment they weren’t present for but already know all too well, you were able to pull the wool over some eyes…mine included. I’m not infallible, no one is perfect Mr. Debonair, and at Red Alert I get yet another opportunity to show you, your family and the rest of the professional wrestling world that Fred Debonair isn’t on the same level as Johnnie Cav. Another moment where La Revolucion comes up short against The Celtic Club. Another day of pain, misery and disappointment for Papa Debonair. Another day of joy, domination and superiority for good old Johnnie Cav.
John looked down to the table that sat beside the seat he was previously using. His hand shot out in front of him, grabbing his double shot of Jameson and down the hatch the shot went. Cavanagh grabbed his Jameson bottle and poured himself a new double shot.
John Cavanagh: Me feeling anxious? You underneath my skin? Feel free to assume what you will. My rage is going to be completely controlled and targeted in the precise manner necessary to complete my goal. See, Fred, you’ve been a thorn in my side for far too long. Once two competitors’ names are nearly conjoined at the hip it's painfully obvious that there needs to be a split. I’ve come to the realization that when it comes to you—I’ve got to tap into my more animalistic side. That part of the brain that first evolved, that’s where this is heading and I’m not quite sure you’re going to be able to survive the savagery. You didn’t want me to hold the big belt, fine, I can buy into that because you’ve always been a spiteful little prick. You’ve always become jealous easily and found a way to project your hurt feelings into others’ lives. Always finding ways to make others pay for your own shortcomings in life. Finding a new angle, some bullshit way of sneaking your foot in the door as it’s shutting to gain yourself another fifteen minutes of fame. Justifying taking the World Championship out of my hands…you think Jake was going to win, whatever you wanna tell yourself. You had no reason other than your sheer envy to stick your nose in my match with Jake and if you really think Jake was going to win maybe go back and review the tape on that what, numb nuts.
John looked back towards the inside of his apartment, he saw Shannon cooking in the kitchen. His eyes continued to wander and came across the IIW International Championship inside of a trophy case in the living room.
John Cavanagh: But there is one thing that I know your punk ass desires and that’s my International Championship. That’s ok, you want it, come take it from me. Like any good hunter I’ll happily put that bait out there to lure my prey. I’ll let the International Championship be the reason that you come running Fred, I’ll let your desires to topple the man who made a mockery of your son–the same man you’ve failed to defeat so many times in the past–I’ll let that desire bring you straight to the field of battle…the squared circle. Then, when we meet and have that iconic staredown from across the ring, that’s when Johnnie finally gets to feel some form of satisfaction. That first moment that I ball up my hand and make a fist, send it flying through the air and crushing down against the flesh on your face…that’s when I begin to be made whole once more. You may feel as if I’ve been driven completely mad by you and left without a cohesive train of thought but that bullshit you’re feeding yourself and your family is doing nothing other than helping you all sleep at night. You can say that I’m a coward, you can give yourself a false sense of security by telling the world my bravado will only get me so far but you and I both know the truth of the situation. You and I are both fully aware that at Red Alert I will be leaving that ring with my pound of flesh. I will not stop until I have left you bloodied and bruised with an ego that has finally been crushed.
The Irishman tapped his gold Claddagh ring on the railing of the fire escape as he chuckled ever so slightly.
John Cavanagh: As a matter of fact, you want to call me a coward? You say that I’m the one who quickly takes the “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em and the beat ‘em” route? How comical that seems coming from the man who befriended me, Trig and the rest of the squad back in the day in order to get his hands on MY championship after he was unable to defeat ME! You sit here and claim to be some righteous individual, defending your son’s honor, being the bigger man and most certainly the braver of the two yet you place your actions on my shoulders. What’s worse? Five minutes after claiming I’m the scum of the Earth for doing these actions..you actually fess up to pulling the same bullshit you wrongfully accused me of. Johnnie Cav ain’t never been the “join ‘em'' type…I’ve always been the one pulling the strings, I’ve always called the shots…I’ve always been the unifying force behind any faction that I’ve been a part of! Why is that Fred? The answer to that is quite simple: a Cavanagh inspires loyalty within the ranks while a Debonair can’t get anyone outside of his own miserable gene pool to follow his lead. You even said it yourself…you were just doing what you “always do”, climbing your “own ladder”, “befriending” who you “need to” to get where you were. It’s almost like nowadays you’re trying to do exactly what I was so famous for doing: forming a faction to dominate an entire promotion. You can claim you’ve been living rent free in my head but this whole train of that you had proves the exact opposite. The last decade, the one that you’ve been frozen in ice Demolition Man style, you’ve been trying to figure out how you could become John Cavanagh-light. You knew you didn’t have the balls to corral a group of real competitors together to follow you so you hid in the shadows of irrelevance until your family was old enough to carry your bags. How does that feel? I’ve been able to take different competitors, varying backgrounds, different walks of life and lead them to dominate promotions. What was it I sold to you when you joined The Coalition? Oh yeah, that’s right, the same thing I’ve always promised everyone–we will ALL be champions and we will ALL eat TOGETHER as long as you follow my lead. Now, just to beat you and anyone else that may want to think otherwise to the punch…I’m usually pretty damn good about keeping my word. Fred, you had the spot lined up–you were going to be the number two guy. You were going to be an important cog in the wheel, making a championship salary, taking bookings, receiving endorsements and instead of falling in line and doing the right thing…you fucked yourself! You went from holding the World Championship that you stole to losing it the very next pay-per-view to some guy who has long since faded to a distant memory. So, what did it get you, Fred? You got a little notoriety as a former World Champion, you get the bullshit bragging right that you ended my undefeated streak way back when and um…that’s about it! You ain’t done shit since then, and now at Red Alert you’re going to take your last moment in the sun to show your kid the thing you’re best at...failing to deliver!
John’s eyes had widened, it was clear that his emotions were beginning to rise in comparison to the calm demeanor the promo began with. The International Champion took a few deep breaths, regaining some of his composure.
John Cavanagh: Now Fred, I’ll admit that I love the limelight and of course I’m going to keep myself on the tip of everyone’s tongues as long as I decide to lace up my boots and step into the ring. You have that right but one thing you don’t have right is my purpose for taking your child’s championship from him. If you go back and listen to my promos before I crushed your kid’s dreams you’ll be able to hear my reasoning–I wanted to teach Tyler what it takes to make it in this business. If Tyler played his cards right at the conclusion of our match he could have stood in the ring with me and held his head high. But Tyler wasn’t enough of a man to admit his defeat…Tyler wasn’t prepared to undergo the transformation that he was in store for had he found his way to The Celtic Club locker room. I would have taken your seed and transformed him into one of the greatest wrestlers of all time–he and Andy Donahue could have been a real 1A and 1B situation for the IIW for decades to come. Instead what did he do? He scampered up the ramp with his tail between his legs the moment his daddy popped his head out of whatever hole it had been in the last decade. You’re that much of an egomaniac to believe that I pummel the ever love shit out of Tyler to bring you out of retirement? No, son, I knew that you didn’t have that killer instinct in you and because you didn’t have it in you I knew you couldn’t teach it to your son. Tyler’s best shot at future success was falling in line and you staying as far away from the kid as possible. I said it back then and I’ll say it again–the kid has talent, unfortunately he has a father who is a real shit for brains pulling the strings.
John’s head pulled back, he shook his head slightly as a slight look of disgust overcame his face.
John Cavanagh: Shit for brains? I can’t believe I just said that. I must be spending a little too much time with Andy. Pretty cliche for someone of my intelligence level but I guess it's just me calling it the way I see it, being a blunt bastard as usual. The man thinks I sent my brother Trigger down to the ring to make sure he didn’t get himself an International Championship match. I mean, really Fred? After all those defeats you suffered at my hands you really think I’m running scared of you…still?!?
A smile flashed across the International Champion’s face as he began to laugh.
John Cavanagh: You missed your calling as a stand-up comedian man, you really did. I sent Trigger down there to make sure he got you that win via disqualification. I wanted to make sure you faced me but I didn’t see a point in Trigger assaulting anyone but you. I’m sure you’ll also tell yourself that is because I’m afraid of you but quite the contrary–you’re the only person in this promotion that deserves to be on the receiving end of a Celtic Club ass beating at the moment. Would I like us to unleash it on others? You bet your ass but as of right now–those ambitions can simmer on the back burner. You can call me whatever names you can think up, you can make any excuses you want but in the end none of that matters. All that matters is that I make you pay up. You want to regurgitate what you feel is a witty line about not carrying cash…that’s perfectly fine by Johnnie Boy. I don’t need cash from your smart ass. I’ll accept my payment in a pound of flesh, broken dreams, sorrow and a crimson mask covering your face. I’ll relish in the excitement of watching you squeam as if the last ounces of life were being sucked out of your body. I’ll be more than satisfied by beating my knuckles raw against your face. Take it or leave it, Fred, those are the prices you must pay at Red Alert for your transgressions. Oh, transgressions, was that too big of a weird for your feeble little mind, Fred? Have you “cottoned” onto what I’m saying yet? Hey boy, are your mental capacities strong enough to pick up the knowledge that I’m putting down?
I’m the caveman in your story, which is fine because I may be a little more predisposed to carnal aggression than you, but at Red Alert this caveman is going to be the man standing over your beaten body. What’s more Fred? I don’t need you to cower for me. That’s a common misconception about The One Man Dynasty–I don’t give a shit if anyone cowers to me. Respect doesn’t need to be shown…but I’ll sure as hell make you show it if you don’t want to. You can act brave, you can puff out your chest like the young buck walking the cell block not realizing he’s surrounded by something much more dangerous than himself. You can talk your smack, ooze charisma, tell anyone that will listen how out of my mind I am, stroke your ego at every little turn…go for it Fred, I commend you to continue to act as if you’ve got Johnnie Cav all figured out. This won’t be the first time I face off with someone who thinks they’ve got the upperhand, this won’t be the first time I have to shut someone’s mouth by ripping their face off and ya know what? I’m happy about it! Not only that. I pray to God that more brash, egotistical, arrogant bastards like yourself step up to me next. Granted, it may be a little more difficult to find someone dumb enough to take up that role once the entire IIW locker room witnesses your epic fall from grace live in front of their eyes this Sunday night. A man who thinks I fear him? Little puppy you should know better than anyone in this promotion that I don’t fear a soul. Why am I ready to put you in the rearview mirror? Because I’ve faced you, assaulted you, bloodied you and defeated you more times than I care to count and I don’t particularly feel as if adding another Fred Debonair ass beating to my resume. I’ve already proved I can do that over and over and over again–so why do I need to continue to give you the opportunity to fail?
John grabbed the shot of Jameson he had previously poured and knocked the amber liquid back into his mouth before he gulped it down. The Irishman licked his lips and smiled.
John Cavanagh: What is this…Raven and Tommy Dreamer? Are you going to keep coming back and coming back, get your ass beat over and over again, take a few trips to the hospital, all in an attempt to overinflate your own legacy? Sure, Tommy finally defeated Raven and maybe one day you’ll have your day of glory too but at what cost? What would it mean if you could make that day finally happen this Sunday? You’d have the International Championship…knowing you, you would go on and on about how you defeated me further cementing who the superior athlete is. See, I defeated Tyler and was prepared to move on to bigger and better things–hell, I barely mentioned the poor kid until you stuck your nose into the picture. Now that is a big difference in our personalities. I win at Red Alert, you and your fans get a quick “I told you so” and I’ll be asking who the next sick mutt I have to euthanize is. You win at Red Alert, and you’ll have some long winded speech at the next Mayhem about how amazing you are and how you shook me to my foundation. You’ll be standing there, cheesing like a fat kid with a birthday cake expecting confetti and a god damned parade and why? Because deep down inside, Fred Debonair is all too aware that Johnnie Cav is the better wrestler. In this Twilight Zone timeline where you obtain the International Championship you’ll know that it was one of those one in one hundred moments. You claim I’m completely in the clouds, that I don’t show you respect well guess what…you haven’t earned it from me just yet, kid. I’m a baseball guy, I’m a firm believer in the idea of a “sample size”. See, on paper the team with the best record in the league should never lose to the team with the worst record in the league. But, sometimes, it happens and that's due to this idea of a sample size. See, if Fred Debonair faces Johnnie Cav odds are that Fred ends the night looking up at the lights. Now, if you multiply that one match by five, ten, twenty more…the odds of Fred finally pulling one over on John drastically increase with each match. You can call it fear, I call it statistics. I know some of these ideas of mine are novel concepts to someone like you Fred, but please, do your best to stick with me. Sticking with baseball–the Baltimore Orioles are one of the worst teams in the history of sports, they play the New York Yankees and Boston Red Sox–much better teams–but they’re able to get a win from time to time due to the amount of times they play one another. See, Fred, I’m the Yanks…I’d hate to say I’m a Bostonian…and you’re the Orioles. How fitting it all comes down to baseball in the end…especially when you’re missing your little baby. Don’t worry Fred, I’ll bring your little toy, Cindy-Lee, with me to Red Alert. I’ll even make sure you two are reacquainted for all the wrong reasons. See you on Sunday night, old friend.
The scene abruptly cuts to static.
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