Post by TheNewBreed on Jul 9, 2018 0:26:45 GMT -5
The wide glass doors of the New Breed Foundation Headquarters in Jacksonville, Florida swing open silently before John Cable as he makes his way into the building he had nearly felt like home in for so long, but now... it was almost a foreign land to him. He had become distant to the daily workings of the Foundation, and while he was still reviewing daily reports, and reading every e-mail sent from the Board of Directors en mass on the daily, he had handed the company's main operations firmly in the hands of his most trusted friend, and despite swearing he had no idea what he was doing, the Citizen was handling business just fine as the new President of Operations.
The humid summer afternoon was sweltering, and the lack of any form of breeze was unbearable. The Air Conditioner blast as the door swings open is refreshing to say the least... more of a merciful savior than a refreshment... and it washes over the bald head beaded with sweat of the Beast as he mops is face with his hand and makes his way across the lobby, waving at the guard who had sat sentinel at this very desk for almost twenty years.
“Good luck next week in Paris, John. Bring that belt home, OK?” he said cheerfully as John passed by.
“George, you know I will. It's mine anyway, and MDK is just polishing it up for me, right?” John chuckles as he makes his way into the small office set off to the side of the lobby that had become Citizen's main sanctuary while he was in town. It had always served John well, and he was glad Aaron had finally settled in and changed the furniture around at least.
“About time you got here.” the Citizen quipped at him as he shut the door slowly behind him.
“Well, the traffic in this city is atrocious, and you know it. Besides, I never told you when I would get here... just that I would come by today. What's so important it couldn't wait until I saw you in Paris anyway?” John asks plainly.
“A package came in for you the other day, and since you were going to be in town, I thought you might want it. I figured it might help you get ready for you match with MDK on Monday... you know?” Aaron says as he flips a manila envelope onto the desk from the right top drawer.
There, on the front, was John's name with the address to the Foundation building, and the return address was from the WGWF offices in California. John lifted the envelope from the desk with a grimace as he tested the light weight of the package. He could feel something thin and hard inside, surrounded in a cushion of plastic bubbles inside the tan-yellow paper package.
John opened the envelope with a tearing sound, and dumped the content onto the polished cherry-wood top of the desk before him with a metallic clank and clatter as it settled on the surface.
There, staring up at him, was the nameplate from the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship, his name etched in perfect lettering... Johnathan Cable... just as it would have looked before they affixed it to the front to the front of the Title to commemorate his winning the biggest Championship in the WGWF.
Instead, here it was, on the desk he used to sit behind, just sitting there... a slap in the face to the Beast... handed to him by none other than MDK himself.
* * *
So...
for all the bravado...
for all the shit he talks...
for all the swagger in his crooked, limpy gait...
and for all the demeaning, condescending bullshit that falls from the lips of that overconfident, overblown, Paul Frost knock off, MDK...
there is only one single fact that really matters:
At no time since his return to the WGWF has MDK actually proven himself to be the best, and while he holds wins left and right over me... he hasn't actually beat me in the ring, 1 … 2 … 3 … in a fight he won with his own bare hands and he damned sure hasn't proven to the world that he is the far superior athlete.
He has fucked over every single person he has faced since coming back here, and at the first sign of trouble for MDK, the Family comes to rescue their sad sack King.
Why is it, that, for a man who is the best of the best, he needs his freakazoid sheeple to come rescue him so often?
Why is it that he finds the need to tell me and the rest of the world how little we mean to him while we watch week in and week out that MDK can only win when there are overwhelming odds or he disregards the rules of our sport to cheat to win?
I'll tell you why.
He can't face himself in the mirror.
He can't face the reality of the fact that given a fair fight... one on one... inside those ropes... when the shit hits the fans and all the cards are laid out on the table...
He may not walk away with the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship...
And it will be me that takes it away from him just like I took it away from Tristan Slater...
And that... that right there... is a nightmare for MDK.
To have to wake up Tuesday morning in your dingy, cheap ass hotel room in Paris and know... finally know... that after all of the facade you've put up for years, and all the shit you've talked to me over the months and months you've been goading me into a fight, and all of the times you have told the world how I wasn't worth your time or the Title, and all the times you could have stood up like a real man and just challenged Slater for the belt but couldn't because you'd lose face if you lost you challenge without taking the Title for your own... and not just me either, but anyone who had the balls to tell you that you weren't as fucking great as you think you are... that it was finally me that takes it away from you and hoists it into the air over your broken body in front of the millions and millions around the world... and it was me who proved to the world you were nothing like you wanted everyone to believe for all these years, but instead you were just a soft little bitch just acting hard as hell in front of the girl you got choking on your choad and the mindless dipshits that follow her around like lost puppies.
You're the one who's not worth my time or that Title MDK... and come Monday Night in Paris, France... I'm going to prove it...
To myself...
To the Breeders...
To the WGWF....
and most importantly...
to YOU, MDK.
* * *
The large roll up door to an old re-purposed warehouse stand wide open facing the narrow alleyway on the outskirts of the city proper of Paris, France.
Inside, two rings on either side of the open floor of the gym inside sit silently, the ropes taunt and the skirt swishes in the slight breeze of the early summer afternoon. Heavy-bags hang from chains slung over rafters in the back corners, and speed bags are fixed to wooden backings between large floor to ceiling mirrors along the back wall. Weight racks line the left side and a door opens to another small room on the left between two sets of treadmills not far from a small row of fixed-wheel bikes.
John Cable makes his way up the alleyway and looks the gym over with a nod as he makes his way through the open bay door and into the interior of one of the oldest properties the New Breed Foundation owns.
He runs his fingers over the blue padding on the cables that run from post to post on the ring closest to the office, and remembers his years spent training in this very room.
His dad had a lot of respect for the guy that ran this gym nearly a decade before John had met Henry. Jean-Pierre had been one of Henry's trainers in his heyday, and when he passed away and his son took over the gym, Jean-Luc had reached out to John for some financial advice. The gym was in debt, and he had no idea how to fix it.
John offered to buy the gym, and leave Jean-Luc in charge, but only if he could get the costs managed, and make a honest business of the place again. Since then... the gym had seen it's share of great talents, and had pushed out a couple of real world class boxers and a few MMA prodigies.
Jean-Luc had learned a lot from his dad, and had made a name for himself as a trainer with some serious skills and the know how to back it up. He ascribed wholeheartedly to the old school formulas of working hard for what you got out of the training, and while most of the old ways had mostly been forgotten by the world, here, the old ways were the only ways.
This gym was the kind of forge that true talents were molded in, and only the best of the best could rise to the top.
It was places like this that John preferred.
It reminded him of his father, no matter how long it had been since he had been here or since Henry had passed... every single time he stepped foot inside of this building, he could smell the old gym, and he has home.
It was familiar, and comfortable, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
A few minutes after he got there, a familiar voice wafted in from the alleyway outside.
“Hello? John?” Denise Essex asked meekly as she peeked around the corner into the warehouse space.
“Hey... I'm in here.” John called as he made his way out of the shadowy interior of the gym towards the bay doors and into the light filtering down the alleyway.
“Oh, good. I thought I might be in the wrong place.” she sighed with relief.
“Nope... definitely the right place. Come on in... have the camera guy set up over here maybe?” John says as he motions towards the ring by the office in a clearing between the machines.
A few minutes pass as the camera guy totes a camera and some lights in from the van at the end of the alleyway, and sets up the interview space, and John goes off to the office before coming back with two folding chairs and setting them up for them to sit in.
Moments later, the camera guy says he is ready to go and they take their seats with the ancient ring behind them in the bright white spotlights set up for the interview.
The man signs the countdown, and as he points to Denise, the charming smile of a reporters creases her face, and the warm tone of a woman who enjoyed her job today fills her throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen, fans out there in the WGWF Universe, welcome to our special field edition of Ladies Night with me, Denise Essex. Today we are meeting with none other than the challenger for the WGWF World Heavyweight Champion on Monday Night BRAWL, Johnathan 'the Beast' Cable.” she says as the camera pans across to John, smiling.
“Glad to be here Denise, and I'm glad to have you here in one of the places I have some of the oldest memories from the very beginning of my career.” he says with a smile.
“We know that you spent a good long time here as a young man, training with the coach of your adopted father's when he was a Golden Gloves Champion, and then again after his son took over the gym. A place like this is filled with fond memories of many of your fans too who have been watching since the beginning of your days in the EWCL. Some of your old promo work was done in this very gym.” she says, proud of her knowledge of John's past.
“That is correct, Denise. There is a lot of history here for the New Breed, and for the Legion before that.” John explains.
“But... you didn't come here to talk about my past, did you, Denise?” John says with a grin.
“No... and you know we didn't. We came to talk about your match on Monday Night against MDK for the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship, and how THE Tristan Slater will be the guest referee on that night as you face off in what has to be the biggest challenge you have had since your return to the WGWF.” she says excitedly.
“Well... really, I think the only thing that makes this match so big, is that the World Title is on the line. After the Royal Family took advantage of a hard fought match with Tristan, MDK decided to pull a move that even Frost would have been proud of, and pinned an unconscious man to become the Champ again. It's the only way he can seem to take a Title... by any means necessary... but to his credit... he IS the guy holding the belt... even if I don't feel like he deserves to be called a Champion anyway.” Cable explains with a a tone of anger, barely clinching his teeth and biting back the hate in his voice.
“Well, either way, he SI the champ, like you said, and this week, you get your chance to take back the Title, but with Slater as the ref for this bout, what do you think your chance are? How has that played on your training and preparing for the match on Monday?” she prods.
“I'll be honest here, Denise. I think that placing Tristan as the referee was more my advantage than it was MDKs, and Flash knew that when he made the match.” he says.
“Tristan even said a few weeks ago he would do anything he could to stop you from winning the World Title. What makes you think this is an advantage for you, and not for MDK?”she asks with a puzzled look on her face.
“Denise, while Tristan seems to have a hard on for screwing me over, he hates MDK at least as much as he hates me, and I have a feeling things won't be quite what you think they are inside that ring on Monday.” John explains cryptically.
“What does that mean? Do you know something we don't?” she asks, excited at smelling a scoop on the horizon.
“No, I don't know anything... but I have a feeling Tristan wants nothing more than to see MDK and I rip each other apart, and while I don't rust Slater as far as I can throw him... I have a feeling he has his own agenda in this match, and it has everything to do with weakening two men he will have to face at Summer Madness to try to get his precious Title back.” he casually says, still not really saying what he means.
“So... you're saying...” she starts before John cuts her off.
“I'm saying that Slater will take every opportunity to just watch me and MDK do as much damage as we can to each other to make his fight against us that much easier come Summer Madness. Slater needs me to hurt MDK, and take him out of the picture, and he needs MDK to unleash as much of that pent up rage and viscous brutality he's known for on me so as to make this fight easier for Slater down the road. Hell... I wouldn't put it past Slater to throw all the rules out, and just let us kill each other inside those ropes, just so he can claim the Title for himself!” John says, his tone serious and somber.
“Well, knowing that, how have you prepared yourself for the fight, keeping in mind the handicap here with Slater in the stripes?” she asks again.
“I've kept my normal regimen. Even traveling, I have places to go all around the world to train. I've been a few days here in Paris sparring with some of the guys coming up from Jean-Luc's program, and I had a few guys from England and Russia flown over to train with. Three miles a day running, a pretty grueling set routine, then five miles on a bike. After lunch every day we do an hour of open water swimming for endurance and strength training, and then another set work out. After dinner, sparring and calisthenics for two hours before we do night laps in the pool and visit the doc for ice baths and hot oil treatments to keep my joints good. Age is setting in, and while I'm in the best shape of my life, there are things I can to do to stay that way, you know?” John lists some of the things he has been doing during his training sessions, and still misses a large portion of his day.
“So, John, do you have anything to say to MDK or Slater before Monday? What about to your fans out there in the WWF Universe?” she asks.
“My fans are riled up. The Breeders had waiting far too long to see me win the World Title, just to watch MDK swoop in and claim it for his own after his mindless minions left me and Slater laying in a pile. I mean... what kind of man prides himself on winning against an unconscious opponent, especially if he wasn't the guy that did the dirty work in the first place? I am sure he is going to have a bunch of crap to spout about how I'm not worthy and how I don't deserve the rematch, and why it is that he's going to show me to the Inferior athlete and walk away with the World Title STILL around his waist after we meet on BRAWL... and honestly, it makes me laugh at him. I can see right through his fake ass bravado... I can see right through to his quivering core of jelly-bellied cowardice. I can see how much fear is shrouded in his eyes, and he knows his days are numbered as the WGWF World Heavyweight Champion. For all the bullshit he spouts about being the best, he is little more than an opportunistic rat bastard who can't seem to put the nails in a coffin on his own. He has to have the help of the Royal Family, because strength in numbers is the only true strength a man like MDK has. He has to habve the numbers, or he can't finish the bullshit his mouth starts, and n Monday night... I'm cashing in my own golden ticket to the dance, and when I'm done with MDK... Slater will have no choice but to count the match...1 … 2... 3... and hand me MY Title!” John explains.
“Well ladies and gentlemen... you heard it here first, John Cable calling it now... Monday Night BRAWL... there is a new WGWF World Heavyweight Champion, guaranteed.” she says.
“That's all the time we have right now ladies and gentlemen, but catch us next time on Ladies Night with your host... me... Denise Essex. Until then, stay beautiful and stay tuned.” she closes the on-air portion of the interview as the camera fades to black.
* * *