Post by TheNewBreed on Apr 2, 2018 0:59:33 GMT -5
Late Night, 3/18/18
Dawn Astor makes her way to the door in the penthouse she has been staying in lately when she is in Jacksonville seeing John. She hadn't seen him in a while, and she was excited when she got his text earlier.
He told her to pack for a weeks stay somewhere, and be ready at eleven. She loved when John surprised her with flights to anywhere just to get away.
It was nice not to have to worry about the world for a few days.
Like clockwork, at eleven sharp, there was a knock on the door, and as she made her way to answer it, there was a happy spring in her step.
She threw open the lock and opened the door ready to fling herself at John, but stopped short when she saw there was no John. Instead, there were only a scruffy looking man in body armor, and a blonde girl in tactical gear.
“Dawn Astor? My name is Darina Wieman. I work for John. We are here to escort you to the terminal and debrief you about your stay. Are you ready to depart?” she says stiffly and formally.
“Um... what? Who are you again?” Dawn asks, a little taken aback at the situation as the scene fades to black.
* * *
Early Morning, 3/19/18
Early Morning, 3/19/18
A camera pans across the sea of reporters pressing on the line of police officers near the doorways of the New Breed Foundation Headquarters as the voice of Denise Essex struggles to be heard over the clamor before them.
“A swarm of media personnel crowd the front doors of the New Breed Foundation in a frenzy here in Jacksonville, Florida. Every one of them is shouting over each another about Johnathan Cable being found dead this morning in a movie studio in California, and the are demanding answers to the situation now.” she says, concern evident in her words.
“The hysteria is reaching a raw madness now, as every moment that pass by without so much as the scent of an offer of explanation and nearly no details being cleared for public release only makes the rumor mill swirl harder than before, and the media outlets are very hungry for information. While the photos that were leaked by TMZ Paparazzi do seem legitimate, and do in fact seem to depict the body of none other than Johnathan Cable being moved inside of a studio in California this morning, those thoughts, while not confirmed by any official sources yet, are truly driving the imaginations of people worldwide as what could have happened, and if Johnathan Cable is REALLY dead.” Essex mumbles sadly.
“With no word forthcoming from officials here in Florida or any in California as of yet, we will be waiting here in Jacksonville for any information that we may gather and will keep you up to date with the story as fast as we can. Until then, this is Denise Essex, for WWGF Insider. Stay tuned in right here for more on this story and others.” Essex says as the scene fades to black once more.
* * *
(Continued from last work... )
(Continued from last work... )
“I'm not going to ask again.” John growls at him through clenched teeth.
“I work for Tristan... I'm... I'm you... or I have been for a while now!” he whimpers at John, sniveling and terrified.
John raises a massive fist as far back as he can wrench one, and grabs the impostor Cable by the chin, pulling him up a little from under his boot, but positioning him just right to tower over him sand deliver a crushing hammer fist if he felt so compelled.
“Now tell me something I don't already know... like why he had you replace me... or who found you and hired you for that matter?” John clenches his teeth and clenches his fist as tight as he can high above his head.
The impostor flinches, gulps, and then falls limp on the floor.
“Motherfu...” John starts to scream at him while shaking him, and then realizes the man has fainted, tossing him in a pile off to the side before spinning on him and driving is booted foot right into the top of his skull out of frustration with the entire situation as the scene fades to black once more.
* * *
Morning, 3/19/18
Morning, 3/19/18
“Still no word here from anyone with official news on the safety or the whereabouts of Johnathan Cable.” Essex says, clearly annoyed with the situation.
“Fans... I have an idea... so we'll be ack in a while with some exclusive information on the Cable situation. Stay tuned.” she says to the camera as she perks up a little at her own ingenuity and the scene fades to black.
* * *
As the drumming pain grows louder and louder inside of his own head, the impostor begins to slowly open his eyes, immediately regretting it as the worst mistake of his day.
There, staring at him, was the real John Cable, leaning over him from the folded chair he was sitting on very nearby.
The impostor slumps back down to the ground, weary and in pain, and had seemingly come to terms with getting whatever he deserved from this point on.
Seeing the defeat in his eyes, utter and pathetic, staring back him... John knew he didn't have to break this one down any more to get what he wanted... and unless he wanted to risk losing him and the answers he knew, he needed to let up some.
“Who found you, and where did you come from?” John asked quietly, the tone in his voice both annoyed and a warning all at once.
“Jessica and Wilson came with Andrea to meet me the first time. It was years ago.” he began, staring off, remembering something from long time ago.
“They said they were looking for something particular in a... client so to speak. They needed someone to be else perfectly... to be a mimic.” he said, slowly, his brow furrowed, like he couldn't understand why they wanted that.
“A few times they came and saw me, always the three of them, almost they they didn't trust each other not to fuck the other two over or something... but it was them. They found me.” he said flatly.
“A few weeks after they started to come see me, they just stopped. Baldwin called me one afternoon, and told me that there would be a hundred thousand dollars in my account by the next time I checked it, and it was to make sure that if they ever needed me they could count on my services, but they had found someone else they thought fit the role better at the time. A hundred grand just to wait on a job to come through down the road and the ability to do whatever I wanted in the meantime? I jumped on it.” he told John softly then.
“So, then they started sending me e-mails about seminars and classes that were available and that I should take in the meantime... leadership classes and business and finance conferences. I had no idea why I was suppose to do it, but they paid for it and set me up all over the world to attend them all, so how could I refuse?” he shrugged then, on the floor as he spoke, grinning a bit at the ludicrousness of it all.
“A few months ago, an email came from Baldwin... said that Andrea and Jessica were dead, and he needed me. He said he would pay me a million a month to be you for as long as it took to finish what they needed to do.” he finished.
John grabbed the man by the shirt and lifted him bodily to his feet, growling in his face by now.
“You greedy son of a bitch! They held me as a prisoner this whole time you have been living the life as me you fucker! It was a nightmare in that dark stone walled room eating shit everyday shoved under the door... having to kill that son of a bitch with my bare hands to get out and be free again... to be here... tonight... to do this... it's all because you were a greedy pig of a human being!” John shouts at him as he blinks, dumbfounded at the audacity of it all... the lack of humanity all for the sake of a few coins...
In a mere moment, John loses it, and unloads a giant right square into the nose of the impostor as he crumbles to the ground again. One after another Cable rains in lefts and rights until the man's face is a bloody splintered wrecked before he realizes he is actually dead and stops his frenzied assault, gasping for air, and straddling the shoulders of what's left of the fake John Cable.
The real John stands up slowly from the body of the man broken beneath him, and stands there staring at him for a moment as the man's blood drips from John's knuckles onto the stained and torn shirt below.
After a few moments, John takes a step back, and another, making some space between the man on the floor in the middle of the stage then turns, slowly, before walking towards the stage exit, and driving a hard boot into the end of the rope rig at the side of stage. With a huge shudder and creak, the ropes he had cut earlier give way to the load of the lights and fall in a cacophonous crash smashing the man left dead beneath them as John makes his way out through the back and into the night as the scene fades to black.
* * *
A familiar scene opens before you as we find ourselves in a grade school class room... bright and colorful with student art hung from boards and leaning iconography scatter about the room.
At the front of the room is a very familiar Johnathan Cable cosplaying the ever famous merc with a mouth, his red hood with massive black splotches and white eyes staring back at you, seated at the head of a large, flat-topped wooden desk holding an apple up to the mask and then lowering it again and tilting his head to the side.
He stares at it quizzically for a moment and then tries to take another bite out of it without any success, and then pulling it back again to stare at it before seeing us there.
Hurriedly, he looks to the apple, and then to the doorway at us, and then back to the apple... before tossing it nonchalantly over his shoulder and sitting up in the chair clearing his throat.
“Well hello, there! I wasn't expecting you quite so soon, but come on in and take a seat.” he says cheerfully, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone would notice the discarded fruit.
We file in and take our seats at the desks arranged around the room and wait a moment patiently before Cable-pool turns to the camera to his side and starts talking to those of us watching at home.
“Hey there, kids at home!” he says.
“Welcome to the show... and today should be a real fun time, too!” he says as the excitement in his voice can literally be felt dripping from each word.
“You see kids... this week on WGWF BRAWL that loon from Anarchy. (You know the one? The guy that's been chasing the Mad Queen around for months now shouting about Eros' return or some lame ass shit like that? Yeah that one...) ...faces off against the Beast here, in one on one combat...” he says as he pops his hand over his mouth in cheeky mock surprise.
“The kicker though, is that he doesn't even remember how John and the Jester's careers have already intertwined! Can you believe it???” he says as he puts his hands on the sides of his face in wonderment.
“Oh... but he's about to! So... Let's watch now as John Cable rips this masked freak-a-zoid apart shall we?” he asks before sitting back down at the desk and addressing the classroom before as the scene fades to black.
* * *
You know... I get it. The name Johnathan Cable doesn't spread as far as say... oh... James Raven's does.
It's not an insult to me... it is what it is.
Guys like Raven and Frost and Shane... they have been on the mountaintop before... they have forged Legacies... in one form or fashion or another, and have earned it.
Some of them have earned it by using every single person they ever met to get there and stepping on the shoulders of better men to climb a ladder they had no hope in beating on their own....
Some have scratched and clawed their way to the top on their own merits and work...
While others have merely been in the right place at the right time...
No matter how they got there, fame and infamy are remembered forever... that is what a legacy is.
I don't have that. I dont.
It's a fact.
It's a fact that every single person who has faced me that has earned their place in the Hall of Fame has spouted at me since I came to the WGWF... right before I put them down for the count and step forward on the game board towards my own Legacy.
Ask Ryder Rebel what's like to go three and a half hours with the Beast...
Ask Tristan Slater or Silence what it's like to face me in a street fight...
Ask Famine of the Vile ow it feels to step out into the limelight and get beat back into the shadows...
or Chronic Chris Page what it feels like to know you can't put me down...
or Christian Connolly and John Gambino what it feels like the next day after putting on a clinic with me...
or even Kyle Shane what it feel like to swallow a bitter pill and lose a shiny belt made out of gold...
or maybe go ask The Fabulous Freebooters what it was like to wage war against me in the PCW in a classic Tag Division where the NBF dominated the scene for a year before the PCW retired the Titles in an epic war between us and those dastardly pirates?
Or ask Nathan Saniti and Q what kind of work they had to put in when it was their turn to face us in the ring over there?
By us... I mean me and my old Tag Partner... Sebastian St Paul... or as you might remember him... the Sandman... Darian Dream.
Yeah... you know the guy.
I know you do...
See... we have more in common than you think Lunacy... and if I hadn't been so caught with Tristan since I 've returned from my imprisonment, I would have already come and found you while you were sleeping, dragged you out of your comfy covers, and ripped your little ass limb from limb for what you did to SSP.
Now... I don't have to divert any of my time or energy to finding you... you're going to come traipsing and skipping down to the ring to face me... one on one or three one one, or five on one... doesn't matter to me.
The fact that you don't even know who I am, and that you have had such a profound impact on my life, quite frankly, is insulting to say the least. I mean... no... you know what, Lunacy?
I am sick and tired.
I am sick and tired of ass holes who aren't even real wrestlers coming in here and running around like fucking animals and wrecking the place. I am sick of people talking shit and doing whatever the hell they please and getting away with it, and I am damn sure sick and tired of twisted up degenerates like your crew following around a worthless lot lizard like your queen and calling it some kind of dynasty.
Kyle Shane is right.
He has been all along, and guys like me and Shane, Silence, Dorling, Johnson... we're going to clean it up and make the WGWF a better place if it takes buckets of you blood to do it.
I am fed up with the bullshit and the egos... I am done playing games with you sick twisted fuckers when it deals with the people that I care about and love.
I am going to put an end to everyone one of you who get in my way, or threaten my family again... and that shit right there is true talk.
Fuck you Lunacy.
Fuck you for not even knowing how our lives have been intertwined, and fuck you for being a garbage human who isn't worth the carbon your dad came into.
Fuck you... and Monday... I'm coming to make it up to Sebastian... so I hope you bring enough toys to put me down... or at least enough to save your life.
I would hate to see you get Dark Shadowed... Asshole.
* * *
Evening, before BRAWL 3/19/18
Evening, before BRAWL 3/19/18
The interior of Flash Rotten's office is a madhouse. Paper's are strewn across the floor, phones are ringing off the hook, but there seems to be no Flash here, or Adam Barker for that matter.
There's a loud knock on the door before John Cable peeks his head inside the empty office.
“Hello???” he says in to the room with no answer.
He opens the door and steps inside, closing the door behind himself.
“Hello? Flash? Adam? Anyone here?” he calls out again.
With no answer, John helps himself to find a sheet of white paper in the printer, and takes a pen out of the cup on Flash's desk.
With these, he writes a letter:
To whom it may concern,
I am not quite sure what is going on right now, but suffice it say I am not dead. I will be in attendance and competing against Tristan Slater tonight.
I would, in that I am seeking several sensitive answers pertaining to me and my company and companions, ask that you do not give comment to the media as to my whereabouts or my actions, and in return, I will make sure you are in the loop as to my whereabouts... if you need to know at least... and will continue to show up for my contractual engagements.
Thank you for your help in this matter, and I am sorry that I missed you when I came in.
If you want to talk, I will be in my dressing room getting ready for my fight with Tristan later tonight, but feel free to come down and sort this all out.
Thanks,
Johnathan Cable