Post by Devlin Knight on Dec 31, 2022 21:47:35 GMT -5
[NB: Continues on from iiwefed.boards.net/thread/1634/run-rabbit-2]
Hop little Bunny…
The rain lashes down sideways across the cemetery as the woman pads along the pathway between rows of headstones and tombs, raincoat pulled high up on her neckline, umbrella covering the rest of her. She only gets as far as the sixth row of graves, before she spots the two men ahead of her… It takes her a minute to get to them due to the surface not quite getting along with her flat shoes, but she takes it in her stride. She stops next to the two men who are also reliably covered from the ensuing storm, with hefty coats. She nods at both men.
Woman: ”Jackson, Miller… What have we got?”
Miller: ”Colonel Foster…”
Jackson: ”Colonel. There appears to have been a handful of incidents with these… Things, opening over the last week or so.”
Colonel Foster: ”Any pattern to them?”
Miller: ”Well not really… The last two have occurred in New York City, prior ones have been anywhere from Las Vegas to Europe and even once on an aeroplane.”
Jackson: ”However, this person appears to be present, at every opening…”
Agent Jackson takes the folder from his partner, agent Miller and opens it, handing Colonel Foster a few photographs that show two men, a balding gentleman with an eye patch and a short haired man next to him, who just so happens to be our man of the hour, Fred Debonair. He has a red circle around him to identify that he, not Gerald who is obviously the other guy, is the target being spoken about.
Colonel Foster: ”Frederik Steven Debonair…”
Miller: ”You know this guy, Colonel?”
Colonel Foster: ”Oh, I know him. Really good guy until recently, so I do wonder what’s happened in his life. Jackson, why don’t you find out where he is now and keep tabs on him and let me know?”
Jackson: ”Yes Ma’am…”
Colonel Foster: ”Miller, we’re gonna go visit friends and family and see if we can’t put this picture together.”
The three of them head in their respective directions, as the rain continues to fall…
++++
…The scene slowly transitions to the concourse outside of Paris Orly Airport, just South-East of Versailles. The man of the hour, Fred Debonair is currently walking along with a kit bag over his shoulder. He spots the stretch hummer waiting and climbs inside where Gerald is waiting for him, with two glasses of Jameson on the rocks. His facial expression drops however when he notices the look of annoyance on Fred’s face.
Gerald: ”Man you look like you haven’t slept a lick, is it still out there?”
Fred: ”I don’t see it in the reflections anymore, but I’m still hearing the voices… Ever since I woke up in that dark void before ending up in the hospital, constant bickering amongst itself in my head… But right now I’m a little more ticked at what happened in Manchester, last night.”
Gerald: ”Yeah man, I did see that… But you should have expected it, no? I mean come on Fred it’s not like you’d have just left J Mont standing there and not tried to dump him over the ropes if you got given the opportunity right?”
Fred knocks back a mouthful of Jameson, then reaches into his inside pocket, pulling out a baggie with a couple of spliffs inside, he catches the driver's attention and flashes it at him. The driver sticks a thumb up and begins to slowly close the partition between him and the guys as Fred takes out a joint and lights it, offering the baggie and lighter to Gerald.
Fred: ”Nah, of course I’d have taken every opportunity I could, it was just the look after. You’ve got to remember when J first walked into IIW we had a Battle Royal for the vacant International belt and it came down to TJ Alexander, J Mont and myself… Same rules applied here but with Max Stone. I just don’t seem to have any luck when it comes to Rumbles brother and once I’m done here in Versailles, I’m back in Vegas dealing with yet another one…”
Gerald: ”Of course, the WGWF West Coast Rumble, the chance to take on sixteen other individuals in order to grab the most coveted prize in the form of the WGWF World Title and you cannot deny Fred, that this particular Battle Royal is one hundred percent yours.”
Fred: ”Oh? And how do you figure that one?”
Gerald: ”You’re literally the only one in the match with your number locked in. You’re the only one in the match who knows where you’ll come so what to expect… This match is completely set for you to take the gold my man…”
Fred: ”But you realise it’s also set up for me to potentially fail SPECTACULARLY right? I’m going in with my number set in stone; I’m going in with my chosen point in the match and yet, there’s absolutely every single chance I could get left behind again… Every chance the likes of Ace Sky, Punisher or Sam Voxx could step in and take me out…”
Fred knocks back the rest of the Jameson, as Gerald sips his slowly, the hummer continuing its ride toward the Palace of Versailles. Both Fred and Gerald takes drags on their spliffs in silent solitude, before Gerald speaks.
Gerald: ”Man what the fuck is wrong with you? Fix up! You’re Fred Debonair! And whether you like it or not, you’re one of the most despised men in the world of Professional Wrestling!”
Fred let’s his joint hang between his lips as a small smirk crosses his mouth.
Gerald: ”You know, I could have just stopped at one of the most despised men, in the world…”
The smirk turns into a grin and then a laugh as Fred nods his head in agreement.
Gerald: ”And there he is… That’s The Kingdom I’ve been waiting for!”
Fred: ”Yeah, yeah, okay… Thanks man, this is why I have you around, that and to share in my recreational activities… But I dunno what’s going on with me brother, I can only think it’s to do with that damn Rabbit and the message…”
Gerald: ”Message?! What message??”
Fred: ”Okay, I promise I wasn’t keeping this from you, or Abe… Or Aurora. But the first time I ever saw the Bunny, just before you guys hauled me out of the woods? He told me that in twenty eight days, six hours, forty two minutes and twelve seconds… The world was going to end.”
Gerald: ”That’s a pretty specific timeframe man and the fact you remembered it to the last seconds is nothing short of crazy!”
Fred: ”It doesn’t leave my mind brother… Those numbers just keep ticking in my head and do you recall when we were out in Salem? In those woods?”
Gerald: ”Has to be close to two weeks now right??
Fred: ”Seventeen days ago, G. Seventeen days which means that there’s just eleven days left before whatever is supposed to happen… Happens!”
Gerald: ”Well obviously we don’t know how legit it was, but you say you’ve not even told Aurora about this? Where is she now?”
Fred: ”She stayed back in Vegas, said she’s not feeling too good. Told her I wouldn’t stay out here too long, gonna get this over with then fly back for the WGWF West Coast Rumble…”
Gerald: ”Oh damn… Man is that the place?!”
The Hummer pulls up on a huge concourse right in front of a huge golden gate, flanked by a golden fence that surrounds the property. The two men climb out of the ride after disposing of their glasses and smokes and look around in awe as the driver gets Fred’s bag from the trunk.
Fred: ”Damn, even my LA apartment looks nothing like this…”
Suddenly everything seems to go black and Fred finds himself in complete darkness, not as if it’s become night time, I mean pure darkness, as though none of his surroundings existed. He couldn’t see Gerald, he couldn’t see the Palace and then… As quick as it happens, it stops. Fred blinks a couple of times and finds Gerald standing in front of him, waving his hand in front of his face, the gates to the Palace behind him are open.
Gerald: ”Yo?! Earth to Fred! You okay man??”
Fred: ”Huh?? Oh yeah, I’m good, man just zoned out sorry…”
Gerald: ”I was asking, how does this work? Do we just let them know we’re here or what?”
Fred: ”I assume so, I’m just going to let them know I’m here, we’ll stay here tonight then I’m going to fly back to Vegas for the West Coast Rumble. If you wanna stay here and take advantage of the amenities and catch the PPV on TV man you’re more than welcome to.”
Gerald: ”I'll think about it man, may come back with you but hey if this is gratis, I notice they do pool and sauna sessions here…”
Fred: ”Then let’s get at it!”
The gates slowly close behind Fred and Gerald as the duo walk through toward the reception. As they fully close, we see a Range Rover slowly pull up, driving, is Agent Brodie Jackson. He picks up a cellphone and begins dialling a number, waiting as it rings…
Jackson: ”Colonel? He’s in France, Château De Versailles to be exact. Something about staying here for another event but flying back to Vegas, tomorrow… Nothing to report just yet. Yeah, okay I will do ma’am.”
Jackson drives off, as we watch Fred and Gerald in the distance enter the building. Fred checks himself (and guest) into the Châteaux, then takes his stuff to the room in which he’s staying. The scene begins to flicker between the room and a quiet relaxing Spa room where we now find Fred and Gerald laying face down on the table while two women start to massage them both…
Fred: ”Ahh man, this is the life right? Worlds away from any of that drama until I’m ready to spill it…”
Suddenly Fred hears a voice that doesn’t belong to anyone in the room and within seconds, he seems to pass out completely as the scene fades out…
Blessed are the meek.
Fred’s eyes flicker open as he hears the voice, the noise, but again as with earlier in the day there is absolutely nothing but darkness. Fred looks a little confused but mightily frazzled. He looks around for some kind of sign but literally sees nothing but darkness. He begins to walk, or at least he thinks he’s walking…
Fred: ”So? Seventeen days left and then what? The world will end?!”
Voice: ”That is correct…”
Fred: ”So what’s the point of all this then? What’s the point of me even going ahead with the West Coast Rumble, when I’m going to have nothing to show for it, in the end?!”
Voice: ”But you may do, there is a way to stop… Everything.”
Fred: ”Stop what though?! What is everything?! What is actually happening?!”
Fred spins around in the dark, trying to grab for something and then, in the distance he sees it… It’s like a wisp of smoke, but within that smoke is an image, an image that appears to be the Earth and several other Earth like planets surrounding it.
Voice: ”It is a convergence of timelines… An alignment of parallels, that should not be happening and is causing a rift, it is causing the worlds to fold in on themselves…”
Fred: ”And, it could destroy my Earth?”
Voice: ”No, Fred… It will destroy it, along with every other Earth in existence…”
Fred: ”But you just said there’s a way to stop all this…? How?”
Voice: ”It’s already begun at the Ice-Crown Rumble and it will continue at the WGWF West Coast Rumble. Wheels and cogs are in motion, so tell me about your involvement at the West Coast Rumble…”
Fred looks around still, trying to find who or what he’s talking to. He assumes it’s still likely the same thing as he’s been speaking to, the Bunny, but he can’t see a thing…
Fred: ”What is there to say about the West Coast Rumble? I’ve already stepped into WGWF and made my mark when I disposed of three others in a fatal-fourway and still now I am undefeated in all competitive matches in the promotion. I most recently disposed of another three individuals in another fatal-fourway which gave me the ability to choose my number and I think now will probably be a good time, to reveal what that number is.
No, actually I don’t think I will.
Why? Because I’m really not stupid enough to give people the keys to my locker that holds the blueprints to my approach… Is it possible I’ve chosen a number early on in the match? Of course it is, is it possible I’ve chosen the last slot? Absolutely and I’m perhaps intelligent enough to take a spot in the middle, who knows…? All I do know is that almost every single person in the WCR has been talking about Fred Debonair and if they weren’t, they were talking about themselves but why shouldn’t they be talking about yours truly when I’m walking in there as THE biggest threat to their existence? Friend or foe it makes no difference because I’m involved here for one reason and one reason alone. The WGWF World Title…
Of course there are other attachments to The Kingdom being the place that the World Title is housed, there are other justifications as much as there are curtailments to the outcome of the match when I’m standing tall and the official is holding my arm aloft with the belt hanging from my fingers…! Take for example the likes of the Mystery man… Or woman.”
Suddenly a green question mark, not unlike that of DC Supervillain The Riddler, appears in a puff of smoke the same as before… Fred approaches it, running his hand over and through the image that doesn’t appear to want to disappear.
Fred: ”Now I’m unsure if this is supposed to be mystery entrant one, two or three but it matters not because the same can be said for all of them... Do they have somewhat of an advantage going into this match? Absolutely as nobody has a solitary clue who they could be, however one thing I do know about this person is that they’ve got very good taste in music and musical whims and have a penchant for the mysterious… Unfortunately, the problem they’ve got coming into the WGWF or, back into the WGWF is stepping into The Kingdom and assuming things to be the same as they were, the last time people knew who they were…”
Voice: ”But of course there are other entities in this Battle-Royal event who are a lot more visible Fred… A lot more perceptible as it were, are there not?”
Fred: ”Well of course there are, you’ve got those such as Samantha Voxx, the Witch who yours truly has already put to the sword TWICE, the woman with the spooky powers who just can't seem to find a break here and who I can assure you will not find one at the West Coast Rumble! You’ve got The Punisher who honestly? I don’t know if he even knows whether he’s coming or going! Trying to be this meta evil and yet he’s just some simpleton puppy dog pet, for Sonya Benson… You've got Max “F’n” Daemon, Lord knows I’ve dealt with my share of guys who wanna be edgy, hell I’ve recently just shut one of those specifically a few weeks back! But this “F’n” guy is different… The man considers himself The Hellborn and Heavensent which I’ve got to say is quite catchy, but he’s no Kingdom, he’s no Sole Schematic… He is no Fred Debonair. But by God he is going to be a ballache for me! I’ve had just about enough of dealing with fairies, witches, clones, aliens, weird Bunny’s and now seemingly inter-dimensional beings!”
Voice: ”I take offence to that…”
Fred: ”My friend you’re about to cause the extinction of my world, Max Daemon’s world and all those in between. I don't give a shit what offends you, because trust me I’m not done yet! Another one you can bet is gonna try and give me a damn migraine, is Mark Cross… The Dragon.”
As Fred says this, the smoky whisp comes back and creates the image of a dragon, flying around his head, Fred smirks but his face hardens.
Fred: ”Mark Cross, another who along with Samantha Voxx I dispatched a couple of weeks ago but it wasn’t with it it’s damage to myself… Mark Cross isn’t a slouch and if you’ve followed his career you’d know this, but the issue here is I’m better… I’m better than he has been or ever will be in his career and I’ve proven myself that already but believe me when I say I’m not averse to proving it again… And again… And again! Now Mark, you asked me a while back why I keep repeating myself and stating something so obvious. Well, I think I proved to you the other night why; because some take it too far and feel that every little move is a personal dig. People sit there and attack me because I happened to conduct my business in a manner not befitting of them but frankly it works for me; so be it. But you wanna see the difference between personal and business, Mark? I can definitely help you with that request!”
Suddenly the dragon becomes that of an Anime robot that seems to walk around Fred’s vicinity before taking off into the air and flying around in a circle.
Fred: ”In this Battle Royal, you’ve also got people like Raion Kido… The man who for whatever reason decided he was gonna get involved in the situation between Fred Debonair, Peter Vaughn, Mark Flynn and those who oppose our business model! I’m still yet to find out what Kido’s business in my affairs is, but I guess that’ll soon reveal itself… I mean this guy wants to talk about things that don’t concern him, or the West Coast Rumble, but that’s okay because I will absolutely give him a chance to sit down and talk with me about it… Once I’m done with him and those he sides with, come the Battle Royal… It seems Raion Kido wants to make something of himself here and by all accounts at the expense of Fred Debonair well howdy freaking doody, Kido I knew of your rep but didn’t know you until now, but now son you just look like a leach! You want to syphon off the reputation of others?! Well pal, that’s not happening with me, that’s not happening here! So you can take your little Gundam self and sit down, let the adults handle this and then maybe… Maybe, I’ll give you that attention you’re craving!
Ontop of this little fire breather you’ve got the man, Cholo! The guy who’s been absolutely terrifying lately, I won’t lie this guy actually scares the pants off me!”
Voice: ”Don’t they all in some way or another…?”
Fred: ”Yeah, but he… Cholo, appears to have zero fear. I mean this guy is making Mike Mason look like the peewee kid at school and that’s not freaking easy to do, have you seen Mason?! I’m sure you have, because you seem to be everywhere! But Cholo? He’s got that man’s number every single day of the week and probably twice on Sunday and doesn’t even seem to know it!
And then speaking of Mike Mason, this guy reminds me of every single roid-head this side of Nevada and in fact the States! I mean the Superiority Complex that lol leaks off of this man is unbelievable, it literally drenches off of him, it doesn’t just dribble like with most… He genuinely believes that people would pay their hard earned money to see a pauper like him?! And yet the work ethic he puts in? Next to zero! He feels he’s deserving of maximum respect for zero effort! It’s okay Mike… You’re in The Kingdom now, all is going to be put right son!”
The smoky wisp reappears; this time a Canadian flag along with a belt that reads RWF Tag Champion. Fred smirks and shakes his head as he continues to walk around in the darkness…
Fred: ”Speaking of Mike’s, my boy Mike Angelo also finds himself here and I can assure you that he won’t be taking whatever position he comes in lightly, as unlike me he didn’t get to pick his number… Sorry Mike! But truth be told I won’t be looking to get rid of Mike anytime soon in the Battle Royal as I know he and I will become useful companions as we’ve always been when rolling together and I know no matter what, there’ll be something each one of us can do if it really comes down to it. But neither one of us is going to just chuck the other out of the ring… Not right away instantly.
Because you see that’s what pals do, isn’t it? They look out for one another but can the same be said for the rag-tag band of brothers that have been forced to combine their powers to take me. Flynn, J Mont and Vaughn on? The likes of John Cable, eh? Another one of those who’ve been pushing and pushing and yet Fred Debonair has shown their true form… Not once but twice and absolutely no chit-chat about how he showed poor sportsmanship again this time around?! Because the first act of business was mistaken… But I think you learned your lesson this time eh, Jonathan?
And what about your pals? Holden Ross, the big bastard who I’ve still got to get back for my chokeslam a while back?! What about him? How’s about Mac Bane?! Another who I know just wants this over with by now… What about THEEEEE GLORIOUS Tristan Slater?! This is a man who had more to say about Fred Debonair than any other person in the match, about any loss he’s taken or anything else that’s worth talking about! You know obsession isn’t just a fragrance by Calvin Klein! What about all these guys though huh?! Guys I would assume would speak their own mind and yet seem to be having that dealt with by their own mouthpiece!”
All the smoke seems to gather together and creates the letters C… C… P… E. Fred smirks as he stops walking, stops looking for anything and raises a finger.
Fred: ”And then you have associates, for example with me you have Angelo, you’ve got Flynn and Vaughn who weren’t very happy about being left out of the match to pick your number… Sorry guys but we all know how these things work! You of course can’t take for granted that any of those will be there for you, but of course until the time comes to remove yourself from the equation and allow things to take their chosen path… You can control the narrative and on the night we face off in the ring at the West Coast Rumble. Sorry to say that this won’t be the last of Fred Debonair making sure all the exit points are covered! Not just for me… So ladies and gentlemen buckle up because quite frankly all knowledge of one’s tricks of the trade, secret tips and so on aren’t going to help you now! I care about one thing, we can go back to being friends, associates or whatever later, until then…”
Voice: ”And there you have it Fred… You’ve spoken your truth and found your voice, but can the same be said for the others in the Rumble…? I guess we’ll find out.”
FADE - TO - BLACK!