Post by Joey The Bastard on Apr 24, 2016 22:30:21 GMT -5
"There's only one way to get rid of me, and I think you know how that is, don't you?"
The Bastard burst through the curtain after having just counted Bob Cena's shoulders to the mat a few moments ago. He was pissed. But, you wanna know who was even more pissed off about the situation? Bob Cena. All the pieces were falling in to place until Robert Garrett stuck a stick in to the spokes of the New Age. If it weren't for him, Bob Cena would be the brand new Thy WWE World Champion, but Garrett had to literally throw salt in the wounds of the New Age. Bob Cena bursts through the curtain behind Joey the Bastard, berating him angrily.
Cena: That was bullshit, man! How do I know you didn't make that count on purpose?
JTB spun around in a fit of anger.
JTB: I couldn't fucking see, dumbass! You called for the quick count, and I made it. It's not my fault you weren't strong enough to hold him down!
Cena screamed back in JTB's face.
Cena: You had plenty of chances to make the count! You were stalling! You never wanted me or Triana to beat Blade, did you? It was always supposed to be you, wasn't it? The title matches you gave us, they weren't "gifts", they were damn fronts to manipulate us in to thinking that you were a changed man. Well, I learned a long time ago, that you will never change. NEVER! And, not just because you don't want to, but because I don't think you even can change!
The Bastard stares at Bob Cena for a second, before letting out a slight chuckle.
JTB: You wanna talk to me about change, Bobby? I single-handedly flipped this whole damn company on its ass! I'm the reason why Old Man McMahon is collecting dust in his mansion! Not you! It was all me! All of this, is because of me, you ungrateful son of a bitch! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even have that InterNational belt, you know that, right? Robert Garrett turned you in to a punk ass bitch, and it was ME who got the Title back! It was ME who gave you a chance to be the Champ of Champs once again. You think I didn't wanna get the first crack at Blade? Of course I did.
JTB then turns his tongue in to a poison tipped sword for his next words.
JTB: You know, I should have known you didn't have what it took to take him down. Deep down, I knew Triana would fall, and I tricked my self in to believing that you stood a chance. I mean, you couldn't fuckin' do it the first two times, so why the hell could you do it the third time?
Cena starts to shake his head.
Cena: You screwed me. Don't give me that bullshit. You screwed me, and you know it!
JTB: And, tonight, just like your one and only reign as World Champion, you failed.
Cena: You're lucky I don't lay you out right here and now!
JTB: Now, that wouldn't be smart, would it? I mean, striking the man who signs on the dotted line on your paychecks? What would Nicole think? What would she do if she knew that you threw your entire future together away because you felt...
Bob cena grabs JTB by the collar of his referee shirt and slams him up against a wall.
Cena: Don't you dare try and bring her in to this, or I'll...
The Bastard's eyes have lit up. He has gotten the reaction that he wanted out of Bob Cena. A crooked smile starts to form in the corner of JTB's mouth.
JTB: Throw your career away? That's funny, Bobby, cause with out me, you're nothing but an after thought. I'm the man now, and I am Thy WWE. If you don't like it, strike me down right now. Go for it! I don't give a fuck if you do or don't! In fact, this place might be better off with out you anyway. I understand how you feel, I really do. You're ashamed of yourself. That's fine, but don't take it out on me and commit career and personal suicide, because trust me... I can, and I will destroy you and everything and every person you've ever held dear, and I'll do it with a big, fat smile on my face!
Cena's expression has switched from anger and hate to a sort of amazement.
Cena: The truth finally comes out.
The Bastard laughs as Cena keeps his hold on JTB tight.
JTB: Oh, you want the truth?
Cena slams JTB again against the wall.
Cena: Yeah, I want the truth!
JTB: YOU WANT THE TRUTH?
Cena: YES I WANT THE FUCKING TRUTH!
JTB: Well, let me let you in on a little secret...
JTB leans in close to Bob Cena's ear, and whispers.
JTB: I... killed... Mufasa...
Cena then shoves JTB away.
Cena: Man, fuck you.
JTB starts laughing as Bob Cena starts to storm off down the hall.
JTB: Hahaha... Bobby! Hahaha... I was only... haha... only joking! HA!
JTB regains his composure as Bob Cena has made his way a long way down the hall. The Bastard calls to him.
JTB: Bobby, come on! We'll get through this, buddy! I promise! We'll get through this!
After a little chuckle, JTB speaks audibly enough for only himself to hear his words.
JTB: Or die trying.
***
It was the night before The Bastard was set to catch his flight from Thy WWE Headquarters in Stamford to New York, the site of this year's Thy WWE: Oppression pay-per-view event. Rain poured heavily on the world outside, and soaked the outside of the window with a constant flow of rain water. The Bastard sat in his chair, staring out the window, thinking about God knows what. Maybe he was going over his plan for the following night in his match against Blade LaVigne. Or, possibly he was envisioning his first World Championship victory since becoming a professional wrestler. But, for all we knew, he could have been thinking about something completely off topic. What was he going to eat in the morning? Who's going to win the Stanley Cup this year? Is Triana still awake at this hour? The Bastard glanced over at the digital clock on his desk.
11:58pm
Lightning cracked the night sky open like a Chef's knife cutting through a nice, perfectly cooked inside round beef roast, and illuminated the sky in a bright white light for a brief moment. This somewhat startled The Bastard as he shot his glance back to the window, half expecting to be taken out by an exploding downpour of shattered glass ripping and tearing through his body. He would lay there dying, bleeding out until one of the cleaners found him in the morning. Would anybody be truly sad? Would anybody mourn for him? Triana, maybe. But, the world might have become a better place if that had indeed happened. But, unfortunately for the rest of us, The Bastard remained alive and well, and the window remained fully intact.
The Bastard quickly reached out in the dark of his office and grabbed his bottle of scotch. He fumbled a little as he unscrewed the lid and it fell on to his lap, rolling on its side and falling to the carpet below. But, The Bastard didn't need a lid anyway. There was no saving this particular bottle of scotch. Not tonight. Not with a storm like that raging out there. He quickly brought the bottle to his lips and took a chug of the whiskey inside. A few drops squeaked out at the corners of his mouth and ran down the sides of his chin as The Bastard frantically drank his prized whiskey. Now, traditionally, one wouldn't want to chug a drink like this. It was always meant to be more of a sipping drink, and many out there would believe that chugging would be a waste of such a fine vintage. But, who really cares? Let's be honest. The Bastard sure as hell didn't give a damn. He had all the money in the world. He could buy the whole damn distillery if he wanted to. Plus, not only was it just about having the bottle on hand to be fancy, and to brag about it - more importantly - it was only there to get him drunk as fuck in a moment's notice. In case you haven't clued in yet, this was one of those moments.
Ever since Joey was a just a little Bastard, he was terrified of thunder and lightning. There is no real reason as to why. No secret origin story as to why he is so terrified. He didn't get struck by lightning as a child. His cat didn't get killed by it or anything like that. The fear was just there. An irrational phobia stemmed from the trauma-inducing childhood he had to endure. It was a chaotic time to say the least, and it certainly was one of the aspects that helped to create this particular "agent of chaos" as he so eloquently put it. But, if Joey had the opportunity to get rid of thunder and lighting, would he? Sure, he wouldn't have that phobia anymore, but then what? Maybe a fear like this was something that kept The Bastard sharp, on his feet. Without it, it would just be another emotion lost in the abyss. Joey the Bastard needed fear. It made him who he was, and without knowing the feeling of fear in his own being, he wouldn't know how to effectively use it when dealing with his enemies. It was a blessing and curse at the same time.
Joey finished off the bottle, and set it on his desk. He was half-cut by now. "Fucked, getting fucked-er", as he would always say. But, fucked, getting fucked-er wasn't a very good state of mind to be in when you keep a loaded revolver in the top drawer of your desk within arms reach. Waiting to be held. Waiting to be squeezed. Waiting for some poor soul to relieve a little bit of pressure.
Death was never really one of Joey's big fears. If it happened it happened; that comes with life. But, sometimes, Joey would get in to these strange moods where he couldn't feel a thing. Not joy, not fear, not jealousy, not even anger. So, he would hold the gun in his hand, staring at it. Thinking about putting the gun to his head, and sometimes he even would! He's put the barrel of the gun up to his temple, or under his chin, or sometimes in his mouth, and he'd contemplate just pulling the trigger and ending it all. Why bother living anymore if you can't feel anything? Was that what life was supposed to be? No. That would be too easy. Not for Joey, but for the world in general. He still had a whole lot of chaos to unleash on the world, and if he ended it right then and there, the world would win. Joey couldn't have that. The Bastard wasn't going to go down like a coward, hiding in his office, blowing his own brains all over the walls. He was going to go out in a blaze of glory. He was going to fight until he couldn't fight any more, and he was going to take us all with him.
The Bastard reached in to his top drawer. His hand brushed over the loaded handgun as he rooted around blindly in the dark. He quickly found what he was looking for: another bottle. He brought it up, and lightning struck outside again, causing Joey to jerk his arm around, knocking the empty bottle off the table. But, you know he clung on to that full one like his life depended on it. Joey let out a long exhale as he grabbed the top of the bottle with his right hand. He was shaking now. Mostly out of fear, but some of the shaking could be due to a life time of alcohol abuse. In fact, that was most certain. Lightning struck outside again and Joey cringed in the dark. He unscrewed the lid in world record time, and brought the bottle to his lips. Once more, lightning struck, and startled The Bastard. He spilled a little as he began to chug the liquid courage. The substance he seemed to think would help amplify his emotions. The substance that would help him feel again...
And he chugged...
And chugged...
And chugged...
Fucked, getting fucked-er.
***
"You were always a chicken shit when it came to storms, weren't you?"
The Bastard lifted his head off of the table. How long had he been out? Joey looked at the clock on his desk...
3:36am
Then, in a drunken haze, Joey reached out and knocked a couple of empty whiskey bottles off of his desk, opened the top drawer of his desk, and went for the gun.
"Looking for this?"
Joey looked up from behind his desk. He couldn't see who was sitting in the other chair on the other side of the desk, but he knew exactly who it was. He recognized the voice. The voice of his dead father. Joey tried to look at his face, but his eyes couldn't quite adjust to the darkness. All he could make out was the silhouette of a man sitting in front him. He could, on the other hand, clearly make out the unmistakable frame of his loaded revolver on the desk in a small sliver of light from a street lamp outside. A man's hand was on top of it, guarding it. Holding it hostage. Joey reached out to grab it, but the hand pulled it back in to the darkness.
"Now, now, now," the voice said mockingly. "Let's not do anything rash, my boy."
His father laughed as he leaned forward in to the small pane of light coming in from the outside. His face hauntingly emerging from the darkness with a smirk, and with pure hatred in his eyes.
"We need to talk."
The Bastard swallowed, attempting to gain the strength to confront the biggest demon of all. "This is getting old, old man. Why can't you just stay dead? I know you're not really here. You're not a ghost. You're just my mind playing tricks on me."
"Am I?" his father asked nonchalantly as he twirled the gun on his finger. "How do you explain this then?"
Joey's eyes had started to adjust to the darkness a little more now as he watched his father point the barrel of the gun at Joey's face. "Jesus, what the hell are you doing?"
"I'm just tryin' ta let you know who's boss in this relationship, boyo." His father cocked his head to the side, as well as the gun. Then he pretend to fire the gun, making a "PRFGH" sound. "Face the facts, you punk. I was the boss back then, and now, even in death, I'm still the fuckin' boss!"
"Okay, okay, you're the boss!" The Bastard didn't want to go out like this. Normally Joey didn't fear death, but this time... this time was different. "Why are you tormenting me? What do you want?"
"You know damn well why I'm here. We've gone over this before." His father shot back impatiently. "I just figured you needed a little pre-game pep talk is all. You and I both know, that this whole thing you've been doing has been for one purpose."
The Bastard nodded as his father continued on.
"This ain't about your girlfriend. She's just a fuck, amirite?"
"It's not like that. She's diff -"
"Oh, cut the crap!" his father snapped. "This ain't about making the world a better place, or changing the face of wrestling, or any of the bullshit you been spewin'. This has been, from the very beginning, all about you winnin' that World Championship belt. Hasn't it? Tell me the truth, boy, and if you tell me otherwise, you're a damn liar!"
The Bastard knew it was true, but he didn't want to admit that his father was right. But, his father was dead, dammit! How could he want to save face against a figment of his own imagination? Or was it a ghost? So, for the first time in a long, long time, The Bastard swallowed his pride. "It's true."
"There ya go!" his father bellowed. "Now we're makin' some progress! You used your so-called friends to get to this position. Wow, what a good friend you are!"
"I learned from the best." Joey said with contempt.
"So, what's gonna happen?" his father asked. "You gonna win this thing? Cause, I can't move on until you do, you know that right? You think I enjoy watching you wallow in your own self-pity? You're a loser, dammit! For once in your life, be a damn winner, and we'll be rid of each other forever!"
"I'm banking on that." Joey snarled back.
"Oh, are ya?" his father was mocking him again. "Cause, I don't think you got the balls to get the job done. I don't think you got it in ya."
"I do have it in me!" Joey was almost pleading with the old man now. "You never believed in me! Believe in me now!"
"I can't do that, my boy." His father leaned back in the seat, eyeing the handgun. "But, there is another way..."
"How?"
His father lunged at him, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck like he had done so many times before, and pressed the gun firmly to Joey's temple.
"I pull this trigger, and end all of this right here and now! We don't have to wait to see you fail! I blow your head off right now, and we'll both be free!"
"NO!" Joey screamed. "GIVE ME A CHANCE! ONE MORE CHANCE! PLEASE!"
"I don't think it's worth spending another minute with your sorry ass, to tell you the truth." His father said. "So, I'll tell you what. At the count of five, I'm gonna pull this trigger, and both of us will be no more. But, you got a little bit of time to reflect on your life, and the mistakes that you've made. So, you better start reflectin'! One..."
"Wait! Don't do this!"
Memories of the death of Joey's sister start to fill his mind.
"Two. Start reflectin', boy. Not much time now!"
"JUST FUCKING STOP! I'LL WIN!"
The image of the car hitting his sister flashes in his mind, followed by the first time Joey ever took a drink of alcohol.
"Three. You reflectin' yet?"
"LISTEN TO ME!"
Memories flood in of Joey robbing weaker people, and beating others up on the street.
"I can't hear you reflectin' in there! Four!"
"PLEASE! I'LL DO ANYTHING!"
Recent memories of his actions in Thy WWE are the icing on the cake.
"That's a lie. Because you can't win, and you won't win." his father whispered in his ear. "So the next best thing is to die. FIVE!"
"NO!"
The door to Joey's office swung opens and his lawyer, Jimmy Douglas burat in, flipping on the lights.
"What's going on in here? I didn't know you were still here, Mister B." Jimmy Douglas stopped short as he realized the situation. Joey realized it too as he noticed that his father was gone, and he was holding a loaded revolver up to his own temple. "Jesus Christ, Mister B."
Joey was almost speechless. He tried to string together the words to explain what had happened to his lawyer, but it wasn't working out. "I... he... I... I don't know!" Joey then burst in to tears. Jimmy approached the desk cautiously.
"Give me the gun, Mister B. It'll be alright, okay?" he said as he reached out to Joey for the gun. Joey sniffled and handed the gun to Jimmy Douglas. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe."
Tears streamed down Joey's face, and in between sobs, Joey wasn't Joey anymore. He was back to being The Bastard.
"You tell anybody about this, and I'll kill you."
***
The scene opens up inside the depths of the sold out Barclay's Center in Brooklyn, New York for Thy WWE: Oppression. The Bastard is shown sitting on a set of cement steps. He looks in to the camera and speaks.
JTB: For months, everybody has been saying that Joey the Bastard is the villain in this story, but that can't be farther from the truth. In fact, I'm the hero. The real villain is Blade LaVigne. A man who has held this entire company, and it's World Championship, hostage for almost two years now. After an extended amount of time with the same old, same old going on, people tend to get bored. They get tired of it. The fans of Thy WWE, they're tired of you, Blade. They've been tired of you for a long time now. Outsiders looking in will say that I'm the bad guy, and you're the good guy, but we both know that that's not true. Sure, I've done some horrible things leading up to this moment, but my ends justify my means, Blade. In order to stop your tyrannical reign over this company, I needed to do whatever it took to get you right where I wanted you. You think I like doing those things?
The Bastard starts to laugh a little bit.
JTB: You're right. I loved every single second of it! I loved tearing the McMahon family apart. I loved ripping out the old man's heart. And I loved ending Triple H's career in front of his whole damn family. It was fun, I'm not gonna lie. But, it was all for the greater good, you see. It was all done to trap you in a corner, Blade. Because, let's face it, I never would have gotten a shot if Vince McMahon was still here, and the single fact that I had to rise up and overthrow the entire management team just to get a shot should be proof right there as to just how corrupt Vince McMahon, and Blade LaVigne, and Christian Knight, and Austin Starr all really are. Always just in it for yourselves, or your latest flavor of the month. Well, I'm not the flavor of the month. I'm the flavor of the whole damn decade! And, that flavor has turned sour, and it's because of you! You only have yourselves to blame for what's happened, and what is about to happen. YOU CREATED THIS! YOU ALL HELPED TO DESTROY THE COMPANY THAT YOU SAY YOU LOVE! But, I can rebuild it. And, I can be the Champion that this company deserves. Not the power hungry, ego-driven, spotlight hogging one we have now. Because, Blade, in just a little while, you'll be saying good bye to that World Title forever.
The Bastard stands up now and approaches the camera.
JTB: Because, Blade, no - we are not destined to do this forever. Your time is over. After I beat you tonight, there will be no rematches. That's it! IT'S OVER FOR YOU! You've put us all through Hell for far too long, and I'm never going to let that happen again. EVER! Once I become Thy WWE World Champion, you will never get your hands on that Title again as long as I'm in control of this company, and as long as I am Champion. I am doing what's best for the future of this company, and the future sure as hell isn't you anymore. That nickname is outdated, just like your run at the top. It's time for a change, and that change happens tonight. How do you even expect to beat me? Are you willing to meet me in the depths of Hell, in the realm of madness, and go toe to toe with me at my own game? Are you capable of that, Blade? Because, I would kill for this company! Can you say the same thing? I WOULD DIE FOR THIS! Would you? Would you leave your loved ones alone and grieving just so you could hold on to the spotlight for just a little bit longer? Because that's what will happen if you don't just lay down and die like any other racehorse that has outlived it's usefulness. Are you willing to commit the unthinkable to defend your legacy, cause in order to stop me, you might just have to become me! This is the first ever one on one World Championship match that I've gotten and I've been here for years! YEARS! And, the saddest part about it is that even though I've deserved a shot for years, I had to give that shot to myself! I had to become the most powerful man in this company just to get a Title shot.
The Bastard stops to think for a second.
JTB: Well, that's not quite true. I'm not the most powerful man in the company. Not yet, I'm not. But, after tonight, when I literally destroy Blade LaVigne inside and out - physically and mentally - then, and only then, can I be called the most powerful man in the wrestling world! And, it will happen. For all of you out there who say I'm the bad guy, there is no happy ending in this story for Blade LaVigne and his fans. This is MY story, and it will be MY happy ending! There is no more deserving individual other than myself who deserves this more. I am the heart and soul of this company. I am the life force. I am the flesh and blood. I AM THY WWE! And, tonight, I will be THY WWE CHAMPION!
The Bastard moves closer to the camera.
JTB: And, for those of you out there who do want change. I do this for each and every one of you. I do this for every man and woman in the back whether you like me or not. And, even if my own teammates are against me, I will still come out on top because I've gotten to where I am today by myself. Everything I've ever accomplished in life I've done it alone. Have I used people, or manipulated people along the way? Sure, I have, but whether it's brains or brawn, Blade, I've got you beaten in every category you can think of. I am your superior in every way. When there is a title on the line, you can't beat me. You couldn't beat me for the Intercontinental Championship, and you won't beat me for the World. There's a reason why two out of your five losses have come from me, and that's because I'm better than you. I've always been better than you, and I always will be. I am better than every single other Superstar in Thy WWE and it isn't even close. Everybody knows that I'm the best. That's why after every match, everybody wants to run and kiss my ass, saying shit like, "Bastard, great match. You're the man!" Do they say that to you Blade? No, they don't, because quite frankly you're matches suck. You bore the hell out of everybody in the building and it sickens me how there are some people out there who still cheer for you. IT SICKENS ME! You have legit become the absolute dirt fucking worst professional wrestler on this planet, and you're the damn World Champion! That's insane! And, I'm the bad guy? REALLY? It's not even funny! I mean, at first it was kinda funny, but you know when a joke gets told too many times and it just starts to piss people off? Yeah, that's you in a nut shell right there, Blade.
Now The Bastard is close enough to grab the camera. He shoves the camera man away, and holds the camera in front of his face. It shakes a little as The Bastard can't quite seem to hold it still.
JTB: If you love this company so much, and you think that I'm a cancer, you'll meet me in that ring tonight and do what you need to do to defend it! Show the world what you can do! Show your family that you can be a sick bastard just like me I can! But, will it all be worth it when they can never look you in the eye the same way again? Stoop to my level, Blade LaVigne. I dare you! I BEG YOU! I wanna see if you can do it! Because, it's the only way that you'll be able to succeed! You'll get a real kick out of it, trust me! You'll have the time of your life. Now, I could end this with catchphrases and what not, but the time for catchphrases is long gone. So, instead, I'll just leave you all with the punchline. And that punchline is...
Blade LaVigne leaves Brooklyn with the Thy WWE World Championship!
The Bastard bursts out laughing as he drops the camera to the ground. A crack appears through the middle of the shot as we watch The Bastard walk away still laughing.
JTB: HAHA... leaving Brooklyn... HAHAHA!... with the championship! HA! That's rich! That's a good one, it really is!
We watch The Bastard walking away as his laughter starts to grow more and more quiet as he gets further and further away. The last we see of The Bastard is him down the hallway, the crack in the camera shooting through his body. Then, The Bastard disappears down a dark corridor.
