Post by stratford on Jul 8, 2022 19:49:58 GMT -5
OUTLAWZ Bar & Club of Bourbon Street
New Orleans, LA
JUNE 2020
I pushed my gloved fingers into the growing bristles on my upper lip and inhaled through my nose. Through narrowed eyes, I watched the devolution of society personified. A waif blond girl, whose vacant expression was far more noticeable than the thread of cotton threatening to preserve her dignity. Smeared makeup in the corners of her eyes betrayed the troubles she had been through, and behind the blank disassociated stare it was clear to see that there was untold horrors. She moved through the motions, as if waiting for it to be over.
My other hand circled the handle of the black baseball bat.
Johnny Stylez seemed like a hard man to pin down, but the truth of the matter is that he is ultimately predictable. But there are appearances to be made, and you have to play the part to get what you want in the end. So the depressing end of days scenario unfolding before me would have to occupy my mind.
The club’s manager seemed flustered, keen not to disappoint what he assumed was a very important client for the club’s owner, and would hover every few minutes to see if I had any new and sudden needs that he could attend to. Surprisingly I did not need a new Modelo each time he passed by, nor did I require the profuse apology for the tardiness of Mr Stylez. Truth was, Modelo tasted like piss and I did not trust the cleanliness of anything in an establishment where my boots stuck to the floor as I walked through it.
What the manager didn’t know was that I turned up several hours early to meet Stylez, because the manager putting Johnny on the back foot was important to the conversation that I wished to engage in.
From the outside, I could hear commotion and the evident arrival of the aforementioned. Bartenders shuffled around, the manager was having a conniption, everyone panicking that the unhinged man could turn their world on its’ head on a whim should something not be to his liking. Part of me pitied them because I knew once he had heard what I came to say, his patience would be short and his temper flared.
He blustered into the room I was in, and I was deliberate in ignoring him. I continued to look at this desolate hollow shell of a woman swaying to a low-fi hiphop beat, whilst Stylez was muttering about paying if I wanted to see the whole show.
Eventually, I rose, and turned toward him. And when I came eye to eye with him, I noticed that he knew who he was looking at. I smiled, half-cocked, and gripped the handle of the bat tightly in my hand.
“You’ve got a big mouth, no? All this fuckin’ noise about breaking down the glass ceiling, trying to dismantle m–”
Now the half-cocked smile drew close, and I lift the bat slightly, cutting him off mid-sentence.
“You don’t get it, do you?” I ask, slowly. Deliberately.
He frowns, and I raise the bat up again as I explain the reality of the situation he is in.
“I’ve been in and around these rats for almost my entire career. One thing that has always been true, you start a war, you are at war with all of them. They may fracture, they may take a shot to the bough, but the Wolves? They never break, they never quit, they never stop coming.”
He thinks he is on top of the world because he has the Wolf brothers at odds with each other, split apart from the rest of their friends, their dynasty in tatters.
It’s because he is naive, and he doesn’t want to hear it.
“Look at Xavier, he’s seen them for the rotten selfish core that they are. He has had enough of being minimized, being held back, living in the shadow of the other Wolves.”
How familiar that sounds. Poor Johnny would soon find out the hard way because he didn’t want to hear my warning. The truth is, though, that I knew he didn’t want to hear it. Him choosing to ignore it, and not act on it, was pivotal. But sewing the seed of discord, the fragment of doubt in the back of his mind? It is crucial to what will come in the future.
“Be that as it may, Stylez, as frustrated as you think he is, when push comes to shove, when it comes down to the critical moment, that decisive moment, I am fucking warning you that he will choose the Wolves over you, a million times out of a million. He’s a Wolf, they bleed different, there’s no way he would sacrifice his family... for you.”
—
TOKYO DOME
Tokyo, Japan
MAY 2021
Anicka Swan was face down, defeated. The crowd were on their feet, blood poured from my nose, but otherwise I felt okay.
And then the music hit. Not my music. The Syndicate, whatever scraps were left of them, came crawling out from the cracks like the vultures they were to see if there was any meat left for them. Long gone were the days they would hunt for themselves, they were just relegated to taking what was left behind.
But something changed in the air that night, and not just that night. The tide had been turning, the feeling had been different ever since Drugs, Sex & RocknRoll. All was not well in the Syndicate utopia. It was almost like the last person to notice was the man in the middle. And it was difficult to know if he was oblivious or in denial. It didn’t matter, because as Johnny walked out full of bravado and ready to shove Xavier down my throat, I could tell by the look in Xavier’s eyes that he was here for business but the business wasn’t me.
Some people might’ve mistaken his indifference as a sign that he’d given up, lost interest, gone soft. But it wasn’t. He merely had something of a roadblock of his own that he had to deal with. Today was the day he got rid of his Johnny problem.
“I warned you, Johnny. I told you, one day the walls will close in, the matchstick palace will topple and burn to a husk. I tried to warn you, mate. You just wouldn’t listen.”
The colour drained from his face, as he looked around and saw Xavier across from him, Le’Andra and Vincent in the ring too, and the expressions on their face made it clear that this wasn’t just your every day encounter.
Between Xavier and Johnny they exchanged maybe five thousand more words whilst I made my way out, but I can only assume this was to allow the thousands of Interpol agents to get into place. I smirked to myself, and phoned Demi, as I watched the patterned blue lights dancing against the reflective arena wall.
—
MADISON SQUARE GARDEN
New York, NY
Present Day
“I tried to warn you, over and over again, about the leeches that were attached to you, using you, and that there would come a time that they’d siphoned off all of the blood they needed and you no longer were of use or value to them and you’d be tossed aside. And you were.”
It amused me to recall Johnny being hauled off, getting his comeuppance. I grinned as I overlooked the ring beneath us. The arena lights were off, but for a couple of stagehands who had some lighting to help them set up camera spots.
“You spent a year in isolation, surrounded by four white stone walls and an uncomfortable steel cot, and you built this idea up in your head about how if you could just get out, you could gather the locker room and they’d come running, desperate to re-live the good old days and it would be like you never left.”
In a few hours, its likely that this arena would be full. Full of people still riding the wave of nostalgia. I give it a month, month and a half tops, before the novelty wears off and they realise they’re not getting the same greatness they one had.
“It feels like you have this fantasy of trying to recapture a moment in time, like trying to catch lightning in a bottle.”
I pause, briefly, and cast my eyes to the side, then back in front.
“But look around you, Johnny. Nobody is here.”
“Nobody cares.”
“This daydream you created inside your mind has been built up to be much more than it ever was, everybody saw right through you. Even the ones who were most devoted lost their faith.”
“You can see that as you look around, there is not a soul in sight who would be considered a legitimate contender to this championship. Not a single person that has performed in the two Showcases since you returned could hold this Immortal Championship without your whole organisation becoming a laughing stock, a caricature of great organisation you believed it once was.”
The OPW Immortal Heavyweight Championship was once something to be proud of. Whether I believed in his vision, or believed that he could live up to anything that he may believe he has achieved in the past, the thought of anyone else carrying this belt just didn’t sit right with me. They can fight over something else, something different. But not this. Not without earning it.
“So why did I show up, and knock your crooked top teeth through your mandible?”
RIght there in the centre of the ring, face down, that’s where I left him. Where he belonged.
“You spent a year or more trying to stop destiny at every turn. You put obstacle after obstacle in front of me, trying to stop the inevitable from happening. When I was taking out Damon Riggs and it served to help your Syndicate’s crusade against the Wolf Family, you wanted to clear the path for me. But when I turned my sights to Xavier, it all changed.”
From the Stairway to Heaven all the way to International Incident, there were non-stop indiscretions. From additional media, to private jets losing important luggage items, to misbooked hotel rooms. Whatever he thought he could do to covertly put me off my game.
“And despite it all, I was never anything but honest with you. I played you straight, and you can’t claim that I didn’t.”
I pushed my shoulders out broadly, proud that I could achieve all that I did with the weight of the world pressing down on me.
“And what did I get in return?”
My tone is snide, a hint of anger creeping in at the periphery.
“I didn’t get a phonecall, telling me about plans to rebuild the legacy. I didn’t get the courtesy of a conversation, let alone an invitation.”
The Championship belt hangs over my shoulder now, as I stand and look down on Madison Square Garden. This would be where a score would be settled, and I knew beyond all doubt that it would be decisive.
“I got a half-literate stream-of-consciousness tweet full of vitriol demanding a title back.”
Because for all of the things you can say about me, or how I go about my business, I don’t lack respect where it is due. When those that I go to war with are worthy, they are treated with the respect that commands. So the undertone of anger in my voice was one that was genuine. He jumped to conclusions about me, ones that should he have done the due diligence on me over the years, he would have never considered jumping to.
He has no idea who Stephen Stratford really was, which means he never really took the time to understand.
“How trite.”
I look behind me at the man sitting two rows above and five seats to the right. He stares ahead, seething, but not speaking a word. His face obscured by the shadow, but recognisable nonetheless.
“How will you ever learn to grow? How will you stop making the same mistakes unless somebody teaches you a fucking lesson?”
New Orleans, LA
JUNE 2020
I pushed my gloved fingers into the growing bristles on my upper lip and inhaled through my nose. Through narrowed eyes, I watched the devolution of society personified. A waif blond girl, whose vacant expression was far more noticeable than the thread of cotton threatening to preserve her dignity. Smeared makeup in the corners of her eyes betrayed the troubles she had been through, and behind the blank disassociated stare it was clear to see that there was untold horrors. She moved through the motions, as if waiting for it to be over.
My other hand circled the handle of the black baseball bat.
Johnny Stylez seemed like a hard man to pin down, but the truth of the matter is that he is ultimately predictable. But there are appearances to be made, and you have to play the part to get what you want in the end. So the depressing end of days scenario unfolding before me would have to occupy my mind.
The club’s manager seemed flustered, keen not to disappoint what he assumed was a very important client for the club’s owner, and would hover every few minutes to see if I had any new and sudden needs that he could attend to. Surprisingly I did not need a new Modelo each time he passed by, nor did I require the profuse apology for the tardiness of Mr Stylez. Truth was, Modelo tasted like piss and I did not trust the cleanliness of anything in an establishment where my boots stuck to the floor as I walked through it.
What the manager didn’t know was that I turned up several hours early to meet Stylez, because the manager putting Johnny on the back foot was important to the conversation that I wished to engage in.
From the outside, I could hear commotion and the evident arrival of the aforementioned. Bartenders shuffled around, the manager was having a conniption, everyone panicking that the unhinged man could turn their world on its’ head on a whim should something not be to his liking. Part of me pitied them because I knew once he had heard what I came to say, his patience would be short and his temper flared.
He blustered into the room I was in, and I was deliberate in ignoring him. I continued to look at this desolate hollow shell of a woman swaying to a low-fi hiphop beat, whilst Stylez was muttering about paying if I wanted to see the whole show.
Eventually, I rose, and turned toward him. And when I came eye to eye with him, I noticed that he knew who he was looking at. I smiled, half-cocked, and gripped the handle of the bat tightly in my hand.
“You’ve got a big mouth, no? All this fuckin’ noise about breaking down the glass ceiling, trying to dismantle m–”
Now the half-cocked smile drew close, and I lift the bat slightly, cutting him off mid-sentence.
“You don’t get it, do you?” I ask, slowly. Deliberately.
He frowns, and I raise the bat up again as I explain the reality of the situation he is in.
“I’ve been in and around these rats for almost my entire career. One thing that has always been true, you start a war, you are at war with all of them. They may fracture, they may take a shot to the bough, but the Wolves? They never break, they never quit, they never stop coming.”
He thinks he is on top of the world because he has the Wolf brothers at odds with each other, split apart from the rest of their friends, their dynasty in tatters.
It’s because he is naive, and he doesn’t want to hear it.
“Look at Xavier, he’s seen them for the rotten selfish core that they are. He has had enough of being minimized, being held back, living in the shadow of the other Wolves.”
How familiar that sounds. Poor Johnny would soon find out the hard way because he didn’t want to hear my warning. The truth is, though, that I knew he didn’t want to hear it. Him choosing to ignore it, and not act on it, was pivotal. But sewing the seed of discord, the fragment of doubt in the back of his mind? It is crucial to what will come in the future.
“Be that as it may, Stylez, as frustrated as you think he is, when push comes to shove, when it comes down to the critical moment, that decisive moment, I am fucking warning you that he will choose the Wolves over you, a million times out of a million. He’s a Wolf, they bleed different, there’s no way he would sacrifice his family... for you.”
—
TOKYO DOME
Tokyo, Japan
MAY 2021
Anicka Swan was face down, defeated. The crowd were on their feet, blood poured from my nose, but otherwise I felt okay.
And then the music hit. Not my music. The Syndicate, whatever scraps were left of them, came crawling out from the cracks like the vultures they were to see if there was any meat left for them. Long gone were the days they would hunt for themselves, they were just relegated to taking what was left behind.
But something changed in the air that night, and not just that night. The tide had been turning, the feeling had been different ever since Drugs, Sex & RocknRoll. All was not well in the Syndicate utopia. It was almost like the last person to notice was the man in the middle. And it was difficult to know if he was oblivious or in denial. It didn’t matter, because as Johnny walked out full of bravado and ready to shove Xavier down my throat, I could tell by the look in Xavier’s eyes that he was here for business but the business wasn’t me.
Some people might’ve mistaken his indifference as a sign that he’d given up, lost interest, gone soft. But it wasn’t. He merely had something of a roadblock of his own that he had to deal with. Today was the day he got rid of his Johnny problem.
“I warned you, Johnny. I told you, one day the walls will close in, the matchstick palace will topple and burn to a husk. I tried to warn you, mate. You just wouldn’t listen.”
The colour drained from his face, as he looked around and saw Xavier across from him, Le’Andra and Vincent in the ring too, and the expressions on their face made it clear that this wasn’t just your every day encounter.
Between Xavier and Johnny they exchanged maybe five thousand more words whilst I made my way out, but I can only assume this was to allow the thousands of Interpol agents to get into place. I smirked to myself, and phoned Demi, as I watched the patterned blue lights dancing against the reflective arena wall.
—
MADISON SQUARE GARDEN
New York, NY
Present Day
“I tried to warn you, over and over again, about the leeches that were attached to you, using you, and that there would come a time that they’d siphoned off all of the blood they needed and you no longer were of use or value to them and you’d be tossed aside. And you were.”
It amused me to recall Johnny being hauled off, getting his comeuppance. I grinned as I overlooked the ring beneath us. The arena lights were off, but for a couple of stagehands who had some lighting to help them set up camera spots.
“You spent a year in isolation, surrounded by four white stone walls and an uncomfortable steel cot, and you built this idea up in your head about how if you could just get out, you could gather the locker room and they’d come running, desperate to re-live the good old days and it would be like you never left.”
In a few hours, its likely that this arena would be full. Full of people still riding the wave of nostalgia. I give it a month, month and a half tops, before the novelty wears off and they realise they’re not getting the same greatness they one had.
“It feels like you have this fantasy of trying to recapture a moment in time, like trying to catch lightning in a bottle.”
I pause, briefly, and cast my eyes to the side, then back in front.
“But look around you, Johnny. Nobody is here.”
“Nobody cares.”
“This daydream you created inside your mind has been built up to be much more than it ever was, everybody saw right through you. Even the ones who were most devoted lost their faith.”
“You can see that as you look around, there is not a soul in sight who would be considered a legitimate contender to this championship. Not a single person that has performed in the two Showcases since you returned could hold this Immortal Championship without your whole organisation becoming a laughing stock, a caricature of great organisation you believed it once was.”
The OPW Immortal Heavyweight Championship was once something to be proud of. Whether I believed in his vision, or believed that he could live up to anything that he may believe he has achieved in the past, the thought of anyone else carrying this belt just didn’t sit right with me. They can fight over something else, something different. But not this. Not without earning it.
“So why did I show up, and knock your crooked top teeth through your mandible?”
RIght there in the centre of the ring, face down, that’s where I left him. Where he belonged.
“You spent a year or more trying to stop destiny at every turn. You put obstacle after obstacle in front of me, trying to stop the inevitable from happening. When I was taking out Damon Riggs and it served to help your Syndicate’s crusade against the Wolf Family, you wanted to clear the path for me. But when I turned my sights to Xavier, it all changed.”
From the Stairway to Heaven all the way to International Incident, there were non-stop indiscretions. From additional media, to private jets losing important luggage items, to misbooked hotel rooms. Whatever he thought he could do to covertly put me off my game.
“And despite it all, I was never anything but honest with you. I played you straight, and you can’t claim that I didn’t.”
I pushed my shoulders out broadly, proud that I could achieve all that I did with the weight of the world pressing down on me.
“And what did I get in return?”
My tone is snide, a hint of anger creeping in at the periphery.
“I didn’t get a phonecall, telling me about plans to rebuild the legacy. I didn’t get the courtesy of a conversation, let alone an invitation.”
The Championship belt hangs over my shoulder now, as I stand and look down on Madison Square Garden. This would be where a score would be settled, and I knew beyond all doubt that it would be decisive.
“I got a half-literate stream-of-consciousness tweet full of vitriol demanding a title back.”
Because for all of the things you can say about me, or how I go about my business, I don’t lack respect where it is due. When those that I go to war with are worthy, they are treated with the respect that commands. So the undertone of anger in my voice was one that was genuine. He jumped to conclusions about me, ones that should he have done the due diligence on me over the years, he would have never considered jumping to.
He has no idea who Stephen Stratford really was, which means he never really took the time to understand.
“How trite.”
I look behind me at the man sitting two rows above and five seats to the right. He stares ahead, seething, but not speaking a word. His face obscured by the shadow, but recognisable nonetheless.
“How will you ever learn to grow? How will you stop making the same mistakes unless somebody teaches you a fucking lesson?”