Post by Gerard Angelo on Nov 27, 2023 13:13:50 GMT -5
Thanksgiving, despite its complicated history, was commonly known as a time to gather with friends and loved ones and be thankful for everything you have. It was also a national holiday with most nonessential workers are enjoying a day off. The same can be said for a laboratory nestled away in the Sierra Nevada mountains. For the holiday it was running with a skeleton crew of guards and scientists. The rest were off to enjoy a day of gluttony. Three of the unfortunate souls who had to work on Thanksgiving walked down the hallway, pristine, white, labcoats flapping. One of them was an Asian man who had his dark locks pulled into a tight bun on the back of his head, the fluorescent lights gleaming off his glasses. Next to him was a skinny man with a buzzed head and a thick mustache, his clothes looking like they didn't fit properly. The third was a man with slicked-back dark hair, grey at the temples, and a full dark beard that he kept scratching at while his eyes looked around behind his glasses. The Asian man glanced over at the scratching one annoyed.
“Stop playing with it,” he gruffly whispered, “You’re gonna draw attention to yourself.”
The man didn’t stop.
“This fake ass beard sucks,” he complained, “Why did I have to be the one with the beard?”
“Because you’re the one with the famous face,” chirped a posh British voice in his earpiece. He made a face.
“G has the same face as me and he got a better disguise.”
“You also didn’t grow up in a test tube,” the mustached man replied dryly, ”so sorry for the inconvenience, bud.”
Gerry grumbled a bit more under his breath about the itchy beard as they walked down the hallway. One of the Bronze Company came around a corner and walked towards them, making Gerard suck in his breath but the man only gave them a half-hearted head nod and walked past. He let out the air and reached up, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Today was the best day for infiltration. Everyone here was distracted by the fact they were missing a holiday. The three kept making their way down the corridor, passing others who were too busy staring at their phones to notice anything out of the ordinary.
After G said he wanted in on the mission, the four decided that he should be on the inside due to his familiarity with the facility. Amelia, because of her background in espionage, was voted to stay in the truck and coordinate. Jimmy and Gerry were going to be on the inside team no matter what due to them both being able to handle themselves in physical altercations. The three stopped at a door and Jimmy ran and key card through it, the lock clicking free and the door swinging open to reveal another corridor. They made their way down it as the door shut behind them. Gerard continued to pull at his beard.
“I swear to God. It’s like a million fire ants are crawling on my face!”
“You’re supposed to be an actor,” Jimmy said, making a sour face, “wearing beards is normal.”
“I don’t use prosthetic beards,” Gerry replied, continuing to scratch, “Fuck, I’m gonna have a rash. How can I be on TV with a rash on my face?”
“I can always replace you,” G said with a chuckle.
“Pal, you’re smaller than Dake Ken's penis. That wouldn’t work.”
“We’re the same height!”
“Yet you have the muscle mass of Pete Wentz.”
“A Fall Out Boy joke in twenty-twenty-three? Fuck man.”
Gerard just shrugs, adjusting his glasses. They pass another Bronze Company mercenary, this one holding an automatic rifle but he just walks past them without much of a glance. Gerard breathed another sigh of relief as they continued down the long hallway.
“You all are getting closer,” crackled Amelia in his ear, “Just a few more security doors.”
The hallway came to an end in a T shape. They turned right and kept marching toward the maximum security area of the facility. It was located in the bowels of the building and the just kept descending deeper.
“I don’t like how this is a maze,” Jimmy complained as they stopped in front of an elevator. G had a grimace on his face.
“We’re close,” he whispered. Jimmy ran his security card again and the elevator doors hissed open. All three of them got on. Jimmy pushed a button and the doors started to roll closed.
“HEY! HOLD THE DOOR!”
All of their head snapped up to look at one of the Bronze Company members running down the hallway towards them. Jimmy reached out and incessantly pressed the door closed button as he shook his head at the running man. The doors continued to shut slowly when a black-gloved hand shot through the doors and pulled them open. The mercenary got on and hit the door shut button. He looked at the three men and gave them a smile. Gerard tried to act casual as his muscles tensed up. The doors shut and the lift started to descend.
“Happy Thanksgiving, guys,” the soldier said, “Shame we gotta work on the holiday.”
“Yeah a real shame,” Gerard replied, “I’m missing the Cowboys’ game.”
Gerard was just making dialogue up on the fly but the soldier turned to him with a smile.
“Oh yeah! Dak is playing out of his mind, it’s definitely our year!”
“Sure,” Gerry nodded, “So long as Parsons stays healthy.”
“You’re absolutely right. We got a bad break with Diggs-”
The soldier is cut off when Jimmy grabs the back of his head and slams it into the steel doors. He groans as blood starts to leak out of his nose. He goes to point his gun but Gerry grabs it and shoves it back, making the butt of the gun slam in his stomach. He keels over and Jimmy slams a knee into the side of his head. The soldier collapses and Jimmy delivers a kick to the head to knock him fully unconscious. Jimmy looked over at Gerard.
“You’re a Cowboy’s fan?”
“Me? Fuck no. He looked like a dick and had a gun. There were good odds he loved rooting for mediocrity.”
“Did you just knock out a guard?” Amelia asked in all of their ears. Jimmy narrowed his eyes and then glanced at G.
“You were a big help,” Jimmy said, sneering. G just shrugged.
“You looked like you had it under control.”
Jimmy gave him a disgusted look and grabbed the unconscious man, lifting him up and leaning against the wall of the lift. The car came to a stop and the doors slid open. Gerard leaned his head out to look around, checking if the coast was clear. He nodded back at Jimmy who dragged the unconscious body out of the lift. Gerard looked around and found a janitor’s closet. He used the keycard to open the door and Jimmy shoved the unconscious soldier in unceremoniously before shutting the door. G joined them, holding the rifle in his hands. Jimmy snatched it away from him and removed his lab coat. He slipped the rifle’s strap over his shoulder and donned his lab coat again, hiding the weapon. Gerry gave him a look and the assassin just shrugged as the three started to make their way down the last corridor.
“You should be nearing the restricted area,” Amelia chirped in their ears and G nodded.
“This is it,” he said with a shudder. Gerard pulled on the fake beard again as their footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. A wave of unease washed over Gerard. They were so close to getting there, that the biggest issue would be getting out. He took a deep, measured, breath to quell the anxiety in his chest. They reached the door at the end of the hallway. This one was reinforced with a more complex electronic lock. Gerard reached into his back pocket and pulled out a rectangular device no larger than a phone. He placed it on the lock and felt the magnet latch on as the device started to light up. After a few moments, the lock lit up and clicked, letting the door slide open, revealing a massive room filled with rows upon rows of pods filled with a bluish-green liquid. The three just stood there, taking it all in.
“This is the place,” G whispered, “The place I was born.”
I guess I bought into the propaganda too much. I guess I believed the hype of this place too much. I was so busy championing Action Wrestling that I didn’t realize this entire place was against me. Oh, I know some people are listening and twisting their faces up like “Really bro?”
I get it. I’ve been to the mountaintop here. I’m in that “inner circle” you all think. I’m a former World champion, former United States champion, Tag champion, and current All-In. It’s easy to just paint me as another cog in the massive machine that is Action Wrestling. Yet I was never handed a goddamn thing like others here.
When I was clearly screwed out of the World title, why wasn’t I given a proper one-on-one rematch? Both of my chances at revenge were in a four-way dance with two other schmucks and then an Elimination Chamber full of people who had no proper claim to that belt other than Pastnernak booking like he’s been on a two-week coke binge. Did you know I’m the only person still active in the company from the Chamber match at Battleground? Yeah, I’m the only person who didn’t take their ball home when they faced the slightest bit of adversity. I’m still here despite the fact that spent this entire year jumping through every hoop ADub put in front of me like the most obedient dog they could get with barely anything to show for it. I wasn’t on the Evolution card until the week before. I had to wrestle John Blade on a PLE! I had to force my way into All-In despite others just being handed an opportunity that they weren’t ready for. I put Cedrone on my shoulders and carried him in our tag title run. And still, I get no goddamn respect from this place. Especially after the shotty officiating in the WOTY semi-finals where I was screwed. Now I’m expected to put my All-In briefcase on the line in a match?
Since when is the briefcase defended like a championship? I thought Brady Bolt was a breath of fresh air but it’s just more of the same dumb shitty booking. Did Jill Park ever have to defend her briefcase? Did Carter Shaw? Lockhart? Kemp? Lissie? Then why the do I have to against two of the biggest fucking dorks on the roster?
The three infiltrators moved between rows of containment pods, searching for the patriarch of the Angelo family. A lot of pods were empty, and others were filled with living specimens suspended in the liquid, hooked up to various wires and tubes.
“Are you sure he’s in here?” Gerry asked as they hurriedly moved in between pods.
“If he’s being held, then he’s here,” G replied. Gerard just nodded and pressed on his earpiece.
“Mel, any luck on hacking the system?”
“I’m trying my best, love,” her voice crackled in his ear, “This encryption is bloody impossible.”
Gerard didn’t reply as he checked each pod that had someone in it. A wave of guilt passed through him as he wondered if he should save everyone and not just his own blood. He shook his head. His father would shut this place down once he was free. That would save them. He was sure of it. Gerry peered into another pod.
“Hey!”
He heard Jimmy yell a few rows over. Gerard turned, moving quickly over.
“Is this him?” The assassin asked, pointing at a pod. Gerard leaned closer, looking through the plexiglass. He saw his father.
“Jimmy remind me to kiss you later,” Gerry said, pulling the rectangular device from earlier out of his pocket again. He placed it on the computer attached to the pod. It lit up and the display monitor went through different screens before the pod whirred to life and the liquid started to drain out of the pod. The plexiglass cylinder lifts up and Gerard moves over, catching his father’s limp body before he falls. Gerry uses his free hand to remove the wires and tubes. Just as he’s wondering if he's going to have to carry Tony out of this place in his arms, G pushes a gurney over to them. Gerard nodded his thanks and they both helped lift the naked Tony up onto the gurney before covering him with a sheet as he mumbled groggily.
“Don’t worry, Dad. It’s over now.”
He started to wheel the gurney around but noticed Jimmy just staring at the rows of pods.
“Jimmy! We gotta go now.”
The Ronin turned and nodded, following Gerard.
Dake Ken Junior. You’re such a piece of shit the best thing you could do is another round of steroids and hope your heart fucking explodes. That would be more memorable than anything you could or will ever do. You’re another example of how random motherfuckers like Bolt will manage a fucking company into the ground. You are another one that was just handed a one-on-one World title match without earning shit, just like our esteemed champion now. Why? Is it because you have a stupid fucking name? Is it because instead of being able to cut a proper promo you scream like a fucking dumb guido at Seaside Heights? Is it because you have a legacy last name? Because your dad’s skin is the same color as an over-boiled hot dog? What have you done to make me take you seriously, Ken? Because you won a little cosplay belt in the failed “development” brand? You’re a fucking nobody. And you think you have a right to try and take my briefcase that I fucking earned? I should fucking cripple you for even looking my way you big, dumb, bitch.
If you know what’s good for you, dork, you won’t even bother showing up at So-Fi because I promise you I will stomp your fat fucking head so hard into the canvas that your brainstem will snap in half. The fucking epitome of nepotism. Your pops was somebody, I guess, and now you think you are by fuckin’ osmosis. I bet you ask “do you know who my dad is” at least once a day and everyone just looks at each other and shrugs. Being you must be like being Michael Jordan’s son, except on a much, much, smaller scale. You know because your father had actual talent and you should’ve been swallowed by your mother.
The idea that you think you even have a shot at taking my briefcase is ludicrous. You’re going to have to fucking kill me to take this. I know you don't have the fucking balls to do that because yours are fucking shriveled up from roids.
Doctor Windthrope sat in his office, enjoying a glass of brandy whilst going over his notes. He didn't have to be at the lab today but he chose to be. The holidays weren’t much of a good time for the doctor. He took a sip of his liquor as a slender finger tapped on his keyboard. His computer screen flashed and his alarm started going off, alerting him of a breach. The doctor set his glass down, clicked a few buttons, and brought up the security feed of the restricted laboratory. He watched three men he didn’t recognize wheel a gurney through the area. He turned and grabbed his cell phone and hit a button, bringing it to his ear.
“Captain Castle,” he said in a calm tone, “We have intruders.”
Teo, what are you even doing here? How did my Turmoil match become defending my earned briefcase against a joke of a second-generation wrestler and one-half of the comedy vanilla midget tag team? Was it because you happened to beat a checked-out Corey Black? Did Brady Bolt look up from trying to find his dick with a pair of tweezers, saw you lose to Downfall, and said “fuck this lil dork should be Mister All-In”? Tell me, Teo, what right do you have to what I earned with my blood, sweat, and tears? You weren’t even in the ladder match! That’s like me going down to your little B-show and demanding a shot at the cruiserweight tag belts. It just doesn't make any fucking sense. Was I too much of a bad guy this year that they needed to send the righteous good guy, Teo Blaze after me? The guy no one has an unkind word to say about. The man who goes about things the “right way”. It must be tiring for you to keep up such a facade, Teo. I know deep down you’re a cocky fuck.
You can fool all of these other idiots but you can’t fool me bud. I know an egotistical son of a bitch when I see one. Whenever you hear the greatest cruiserweight of all time it makes you feel like you’re six feet tall. All those titles you won over there on the cosplay a wrestler show, each new one just extending your own records. It would be amazing if it actually mattered. You know and I know that you’ve outgrown CruiserClash a long time ago, Teo. It’s just easier to stay a big fish in a small pond. It’s easier knowing you’re gonna get at least one Cruiserweight title match every six months. It’s easier knowing when in doubt, you and Jenson can be the Cruiserweight tag champs because you’re the only team in the division. Though it must grind your fucking gears Andre has a chance to win the title that’s defined your entire run in ADub. I know you like to keep him as your little sidekick so he doesn’t outshine you. Because we all know Teo doesn’t like a challenge of any kind.
What would you even do with this briefcase if you won it, Teo? Would you waste it on the Cruiserweight title? Devaluing the whole concept of All-In by using it on a title where title shots are given out to whoever signs a contract. Or would you finally be a man and step up to the big leagues? Sorry, I just laughed. You’re not that guy, I know. You’re “loyal” to your “home”.
Bullshit. You’re loyal to whatever keeps you in the spotlight. I said you’ve outgrown CruiserClash but up on the A-show, you'd be lost in the shuffle here. Downfall already proved you don’t have what it takes to be the real main event. Maybe you’d snag a CBS title or a TV title but you would be jerking the curtain. And I know Ego Teo wouldn't be able to handle that. That’s why you’d stay on CruiserClash doing your fucking comedy bits with Jenson until you wanna pretend to get serious and win another Cruiserweight title that doesn’t fucking matter.
That’s why I’m not letting you take my briefcase. I put in work day after day, month after month to make this happen. I earned a World title shot whenever I see fit. What have you done besides waste time? What have you done to earn this? Absolutely nothing. And that’s why I can’t fucking stand you, Teo. You think beating a bunch of nobodies on the pretend wrestler show is doing something. You were getting bodied by an eighty-pound girl for most of the last two years and you expect to beat a living legend? You can fuck yourself with a habanero you cunt. I’m going to enjoy dismantling the face of CruiserClash in front of the entire world and proving once again, despite the company conspiring against me, that I’m the best damn wrestler on the planet. Not just on a secondary brand.
Gerard and the others had gotten out of the lab and made their way to the elevator when the door opened and two guards got off, pointing rifles at the group.
“Hands up!”
Gerard and G both put their hands up as one was speaking into his radio. Jimmy suddenly threw his lab coat at them, obscuring the vision as he swung his rifle around and shots rang out. Both members of the Bronze Company fell to the ground, the white coat stained with red.
“Move!” Jimmy commanded and the other two obliged, pushing Tony’s gurney into the lift.
“You lot are going to have to take a secondary way out of the facility,” came Amelia’s voice, “I will guide you.”
Gerard grimaced. This was insane, he thought. Maybe he should have gone to the authorities instead of making a rash decision. He shook his head. No time for thoughts like that. He already made his bed. The lift came to a stop and they got off.
“Make a left,” Amelia told them and they hurried down the corridor with the gurney, shoes echoing off the linoleum.
They continued following directions until they made it through a door to see daylight.
And a dozen gun barrels pointing right at them. Jimmy raised his in response, even if it seemed futile.
“Drop the gun, put your hands above your head, and step away from the specimen” growled an older man with a half-smoked cigar clenched in his molars.
“Don’t make me tell you again,” the captain snarled. Gerard clenched his jaw, realizing this was probably the end when Jimmy grabbed his father, lifting his torso off the gurney and shoving the barrel of his gun against his temple.
“Back off or it’s over,” Jimmy yelled back, glaring daggers at the captain. Gerry turned a glare at Jimmy.
“What are you doing, asshole?” he hissed.
“Getting us out of this,” the assassin grunted. Gerard looked back and forth at the standoff.
“If you kill him, you lose all reason why we keep you alive,” the captain said with a chuckle, the finger on his trigger itching to curl.
“But if this guy dies, you lose your contract here, no?” Jimmy asked with a grin. The cocky smirk faded from the captain's face.
“Surrender. Now.”
They all kept staring at each other when a humming sound started to grow louder until a white van smashed into the foyer through the glass doors, sending shards of glass and twisted metal all over and scattering the Bronze Company. The back doors of the van swung open and Jimmy’s two men started opening cover fire.
“Go! Get your dad in the van!” Jimmy yelled, dropping Tony's limp body and firing his weapon. Gerry didn’t need to be told twice and he quickly shoved the gurney over and lifted Tony off of it, pulling him into the van. G followed after and then Jimmy. Dano and Aubrey pulled the van’s door shut as bullets pinged into the metal.
“Hold on!” came Amelia’s voice from the driver's seat as she gunned the gas, van bouncing off the curb as she sped off the property. Gerard slumped down against the side of the van, yanking the prosthetic beard off.
They did it.
But why did it feel too easy?
I don’t care the odds put in front of me. Quitting ain’t in my DNA. I’m not like the rest of these folks. If the company wants to keep me down and try to screw me over then I’m just gonna burn the fucking place to the ground. It starts at Turmoil. Neither of you jerkoffs is taking the All-In briefcase that I fucking earned. I’ll fucking kill you both before that happens. Because one way or another, I’m gonna get my Hollywood Ending.
“Stop playing with it,” he gruffly whispered, “You’re gonna draw attention to yourself.”
The man didn’t stop.
“This fake ass beard sucks,” he complained, “Why did I have to be the one with the beard?”
“Because you’re the one with the famous face,” chirped a posh British voice in his earpiece. He made a face.
“G has the same face as me and he got a better disguise.”
“You also didn’t grow up in a test tube,” the mustached man replied dryly, ”so sorry for the inconvenience, bud.”
Gerry grumbled a bit more under his breath about the itchy beard as they walked down the hallway. One of the Bronze Company came around a corner and walked towards them, making Gerard suck in his breath but the man only gave them a half-hearted head nod and walked past. He let out the air and reached up, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Today was the best day for infiltration. Everyone here was distracted by the fact they were missing a holiday. The three kept making their way down the corridor, passing others who were too busy staring at their phones to notice anything out of the ordinary.
After G said he wanted in on the mission, the four decided that he should be on the inside due to his familiarity with the facility. Amelia, because of her background in espionage, was voted to stay in the truck and coordinate. Jimmy and Gerry were going to be on the inside team no matter what due to them both being able to handle themselves in physical altercations. The three stopped at a door and Jimmy ran and key card through it, the lock clicking free and the door swinging open to reveal another corridor. They made their way down it as the door shut behind them. Gerard continued to pull at his beard.
“I swear to God. It’s like a million fire ants are crawling on my face!”
“You’re supposed to be an actor,” Jimmy said, making a sour face, “wearing beards is normal.”
“I don’t use prosthetic beards,” Gerry replied, continuing to scratch, “Fuck, I’m gonna have a rash. How can I be on TV with a rash on my face?”
“I can always replace you,” G said with a chuckle.
“Pal, you’re smaller than Dake Ken's penis. That wouldn’t work.”
“We’re the same height!”
“Yet you have the muscle mass of Pete Wentz.”
“A Fall Out Boy joke in twenty-twenty-three? Fuck man.”
Gerard just shrugs, adjusting his glasses. They pass another Bronze Company mercenary, this one holding an automatic rifle but he just walks past them without much of a glance. Gerard breathed another sigh of relief as they continued down the long hallway.
“You all are getting closer,” crackled Amelia in his ear, “Just a few more security doors.”
The hallway came to an end in a T shape. They turned right and kept marching toward the maximum security area of the facility. It was located in the bowels of the building and the just kept descending deeper.
“I don’t like how this is a maze,” Jimmy complained as they stopped in front of an elevator. G had a grimace on his face.
“We’re close,” he whispered. Jimmy ran his security card again and the elevator doors hissed open. All three of them got on. Jimmy pushed a button and the doors started to roll closed.
“HEY! HOLD THE DOOR!”
All of their head snapped up to look at one of the Bronze Company members running down the hallway towards them. Jimmy reached out and incessantly pressed the door closed button as he shook his head at the running man. The doors continued to shut slowly when a black-gloved hand shot through the doors and pulled them open. The mercenary got on and hit the door shut button. He looked at the three men and gave them a smile. Gerard tried to act casual as his muscles tensed up. The doors shut and the lift started to descend.
“Happy Thanksgiving, guys,” the soldier said, “Shame we gotta work on the holiday.”
“Yeah a real shame,” Gerard replied, “I’m missing the Cowboys’ game.”
Gerard was just making dialogue up on the fly but the soldier turned to him with a smile.
“Oh yeah! Dak is playing out of his mind, it’s definitely our year!”
“Sure,” Gerry nodded, “So long as Parsons stays healthy.”
“You’re absolutely right. We got a bad break with Diggs-”
The soldier is cut off when Jimmy grabs the back of his head and slams it into the steel doors. He groans as blood starts to leak out of his nose. He goes to point his gun but Gerry grabs it and shoves it back, making the butt of the gun slam in his stomach. He keels over and Jimmy slams a knee into the side of his head. The soldier collapses and Jimmy delivers a kick to the head to knock him fully unconscious. Jimmy looked over at Gerard.
“You’re a Cowboy’s fan?”
“Me? Fuck no. He looked like a dick and had a gun. There were good odds he loved rooting for mediocrity.”
“Did you just knock out a guard?” Amelia asked in all of their ears. Jimmy narrowed his eyes and then glanced at G.
“You were a big help,” Jimmy said, sneering. G just shrugged.
“You looked like you had it under control.”
Jimmy gave him a disgusted look and grabbed the unconscious man, lifting him up and leaning against the wall of the lift. The car came to a stop and the doors slid open. Gerard leaned his head out to look around, checking if the coast was clear. He nodded back at Jimmy who dragged the unconscious body out of the lift. Gerard looked around and found a janitor’s closet. He used the keycard to open the door and Jimmy shoved the unconscious soldier in unceremoniously before shutting the door. G joined them, holding the rifle in his hands. Jimmy snatched it away from him and removed his lab coat. He slipped the rifle’s strap over his shoulder and donned his lab coat again, hiding the weapon. Gerry gave him a look and the assassin just shrugged as the three started to make their way down the last corridor.
“You should be nearing the restricted area,” Amelia chirped in their ears and G nodded.
“This is it,” he said with a shudder. Gerard pulled on the fake beard again as their footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. A wave of unease washed over Gerard. They were so close to getting there, that the biggest issue would be getting out. He took a deep, measured, breath to quell the anxiety in his chest. They reached the door at the end of the hallway. This one was reinforced with a more complex electronic lock. Gerard reached into his back pocket and pulled out a rectangular device no larger than a phone. He placed it on the lock and felt the magnet latch on as the device started to light up. After a few moments, the lock lit up and clicked, letting the door slide open, revealing a massive room filled with rows upon rows of pods filled with a bluish-green liquid. The three just stood there, taking it all in.
“This is the place,” G whispered, “The place I was born.”
I guess I bought into the propaganda too much. I guess I believed the hype of this place too much. I was so busy championing Action Wrestling that I didn’t realize this entire place was against me. Oh, I know some people are listening and twisting their faces up like “Really bro?”
I get it. I’ve been to the mountaintop here. I’m in that “inner circle” you all think. I’m a former World champion, former United States champion, Tag champion, and current All-In. It’s easy to just paint me as another cog in the massive machine that is Action Wrestling. Yet I was never handed a goddamn thing like others here.
When I was clearly screwed out of the World title, why wasn’t I given a proper one-on-one rematch? Both of my chances at revenge were in a four-way dance with two other schmucks and then an Elimination Chamber full of people who had no proper claim to that belt other than Pastnernak booking like he’s been on a two-week coke binge. Did you know I’m the only person still active in the company from the Chamber match at Battleground? Yeah, I’m the only person who didn’t take their ball home when they faced the slightest bit of adversity. I’m still here despite the fact that spent this entire year jumping through every hoop ADub put in front of me like the most obedient dog they could get with barely anything to show for it. I wasn’t on the Evolution card until the week before. I had to wrestle John Blade on a PLE! I had to force my way into All-In despite others just being handed an opportunity that they weren’t ready for. I put Cedrone on my shoulders and carried him in our tag title run. And still, I get no goddamn respect from this place. Especially after the shotty officiating in the WOTY semi-finals where I was screwed. Now I’m expected to put my All-In briefcase on the line in a match?
Since when is the briefcase defended like a championship? I thought Brady Bolt was a breath of fresh air but it’s just more of the same dumb shitty booking. Did Jill Park ever have to defend her briefcase? Did Carter Shaw? Lockhart? Kemp? Lissie? Then why the do I have to against two of the biggest fucking dorks on the roster?
The three infiltrators moved between rows of containment pods, searching for the patriarch of the Angelo family. A lot of pods were empty, and others were filled with living specimens suspended in the liquid, hooked up to various wires and tubes.
“Are you sure he’s in here?” Gerry asked as they hurriedly moved in between pods.
“If he’s being held, then he’s here,” G replied. Gerard just nodded and pressed on his earpiece.
“Mel, any luck on hacking the system?”
“I’m trying my best, love,” her voice crackled in his ear, “This encryption is bloody impossible.”
Gerard didn’t reply as he checked each pod that had someone in it. A wave of guilt passed through him as he wondered if he should save everyone and not just his own blood. He shook his head. His father would shut this place down once he was free. That would save them. He was sure of it. Gerry peered into another pod.
“Hey!”
He heard Jimmy yell a few rows over. Gerard turned, moving quickly over.
“Is this him?” The assassin asked, pointing at a pod. Gerard leaned closer, looking through the plexiglass. He saw his father.
“Jimmy remind me to kiss you later,” Gerry said, pulling the rectangular device from earlier out of his pocket again. He placed it on the computer attached to the pod. It lit up and the display monitor went through different screens before the pod whirred to life and the liquid started to drain out of the pod. The plexiglass cylinder lifts up and Gerard moves over, catching his father’s limp body before he falls. Gerry uses his free hand to remove the wires and tubes. Just as he’s wondering if he's going to have to carry Tony out of this place in his arms, G pushes a gurney over to them. Gerard nodded his thanks and they both helped lift the naked Tony up onto the gurney before covering him with a sheet as he mumbled groggily.
“Don’t worry, Dad. It’s over now.”
He started to wheel the gurney around but noticed Jimmy just staring at the rows of pods.
“Jimmy! We gotta go now.”
The Ronin turned and nodded, following Gerard.
Dake Ken Junior. You’re such a piece of shit the best thing you could do is another round of steroids and hope your heart fucking explodes. That would be more memorable than anything you could or will ever do. You’re another example of how random motherfuckers like Bolt will manage a fucking company into the ground. You are another one that was just handed a one-on-one World title match without earning shit, just like our esteemed champion now. Why? Is it because you have a stupid fucking name? Is it because instead of being able to cut a proper promo you scream like a fucking dumb guido at Seaside Heights? Is it because you have a legacy last name? Because your dad’s skin is the same color as an over-boiled hot dog? What have you done to make me take you seriously, Ken? Because you won a little cosplay belt in the failed “development” brand? You’re a fucking nobody. And you think you have a right to try and take my briefcase that I fucking earned? I should fucking cripple you for even looking my way you big, dumb, bitch.
If you know what’s good for you, dork, you won’t even bother showing up at So-Fi because I promise you I will stomp your fat fucking head so hard into the canvas that your brainstem will snap in half. The fucking epitome of nepotism. Your pops was somebody, I guess, and now you think you are by fuckin’ osmosis. I bet you ask “do you know who my dad is” at least once a day and everyone just looks at each other and shrugs. Being you must be like being Michael Jordan’s son, except on a much, much, smaller scale. You know because your father had actual talent and you should’ve been swallowed by your mother.
The idea that you think you even have a shot at taking my briefcase is ludicrous. You’re going to have to fucking kill me to take this. I know you don't have the fucking balls to do that because yours are fucking shriveled up from roids.
Doctor Windthrope sat in his office, enjoying a glass of brandy whilst going over his notes. He didn't have to be at the lab today but he chose to be. The holidays weren’t much of a good time for the doctor. He took a sip of his liquor as a slender finger tapped on his keyboard. His computer screen flashed and his alarm started going off, alerting him of a breach. The doctor set his glass down, clicked a few buttons, and brought up the security feed of the restricted laboratory. He watched three men he didn’t recognize wheel a gurney through the area. He turned and grabbed his cell phone and hit a button, bringing it to his ear.
“Captain Castle,” he said in a calm tone, “We have intruders.”
Teo, what are you even doing here? How did my Turmoil match become defending my earned briefcase against a joke of a second-generation wrestler and one-half of the comedy vanilla midget tag team? Was it because you happened to beat a checked-out Corey Black? Did Brady Bolt look up from trying to find his dick with a pair of tweezers, saw you lose to Downfall, and said “fuck this lil dork should be Mister All-In”? Tell me, Teo, what right do you have to what I earned with my blood, sweat, and tears? You weren’t even in the ladder match! That’s like me going down to your little B-show and demanding a shot at the cruiserweight tag belts. It just doesn't make any fucking sense. Was I too much of a bad guy this year that they needed to send the righteous good guy, Teo Blaze after me? The guy no one has an unkind word to say about. The man who goes about things the “right way”. It must be tiring for you to keep up such a facade, Teo. I know deep down you’re a cocky fuck.
You can fool all of these other idiots but you can’t fool me bud. I know an egotistical son of a bitch when I see one. Whenever you hear the greatest cruiserweight of all time it makes you feel like you’re six feet tall. All those titles you won over there on the cosplay a wrestler show, each new one just extending your own records. It would be amazing if it actually mattered. You know and I know that you’ve outgrown CruiserClash a long time ago, Teo. It’s just easier to stay a big fish in a small pond. It’s easier knowing you’re gonna get at least one Cruiserweight title match every six months. It’s easier knowing when in doubt, you and Jenson can be the Cruiserweight tag champs because you’re the only team in the division. Though it must grind your fucking gears Andre has a chance to win the title that’s defined your entire run in ADub. I know you like to keep him as your little sidekick so he doesn’t outshine you. Because we all know Teo doesn’t like a challenge of any kind.
What would you even do with this briefcase if you won it, Teo? Would you waste it on the Cruiserweight title? Devaluing the whole concept of All-In by using it on a title where title shots are given out to whoever signs a contract. Or would you finally be a man and step up to the big leagues? Sorry, I just laughed. You’re not that guy, I know. You’re “loyal” to your “home”.
Bullshit. You’re loyal to whatever keeps you in the spotlight. I said you’ve outgrown CruiserClash but up on the A-show, you'd be lost in the shuffle here. Downfall already proved you don’t have what it takes to be the real main event. Maybe you’d snag a CBS title or a TV title but you would be jerking the curtain. And I know Ego Teo wouldn't be able to handle that. That’s why you’d stay on CruiserClash doing your fucking comedy bits with Jenson until you wanna pretend to get serious and win another Cruiserweight title that doesn’t fucking matter.
That’s why I’m not letting you take my briefcase. I put in work day after day, month after month to make this happen. I earned a World title shot whenever I see fit. What have you done besides waste time? What have you done to earn this? Absolutely nothing. And that’s why I can’t fucking stand you, Teo. You think beating a bunch of nobodies on the pretend wrestler show is doing something. You were getting bodied by an eighty-pound girl for most of the last two years and you expect to beat a living legend? You can fuck yourself with a habanero you cunt. I’m going to enjoy dismantling the face of CruiserClash in front of the entire world and proving once again, despite the company conspiring against me, that I’m the best damn wrestler on the planet. Not just on a secondary brand.
Gerard and the others had gotten out of the lab and made their way to the elevator when the door opened and two guards got off, pointing rifles at the group.
“Hands up!”
Gerard and G both put their hands up as one was speaking into his radio. Jimmy suddenly threw his lab coat at them, obscuring the vision as he swung his rifle around and shots rang out. Both members of the Bronze Company fell to the ground, the white coat stained with red.
“Move!” Jimmy commanded and the other two obliged, pushing Tony’s gurney into the lift.
“You lot are going to have to take a secondary way out of the facility,” came Amelia’s voice, “I will guide you.”
Gerard grimaced. This was insane, he thought. Maybe he should have gone to the authorities instead of making a rash decision. He shook his head. No time for thoughts like that. He already made his bed. The lift came to a stop and they got off.
“Make a left,” Amelia told them and they hurried down the corridor with the gurney, shoes echoing off the linoleum.
They continued following directions until they made it through a door to see daylight.
And a dozen gun barrels pointing right at them. Jimmy raised his in response, even if it seemed futile.
“Drop the gun, put your hands above your head, and step away from the specimen” growled an older man with a half-smoked cigar clenched in his molars.
“Don’t make me tell you again,” the captain snarled. Gerard clenched his jaw, realizing this was probably the end when Jimmy grabbed his father, lifting his torso off the gurney and shoving the barrel of his gun against his temple.
“Back off or it’s over,” Jimmy yelled back, glaring daggers at the captain. Gerry turned a glare at Jimmy.
“What are you doing, asshole?” he hissed.
“Getting us out of this,” the assassin grunted. Gerard looked back and forth at the standoff.
“If you kill him, you lose all reason why we keep you alive,” the captain said with a chuckle, the finger on his trigger itching to curl.
“But if this guy dies, you lose your contract here, no?” Jimmy asked with a grin. The cocky smirk faded from the captain's face.
“Surrender. Now.”
They all kept staring at each other when a humming sound started to grow louder until a white van smashed into the foyer through the glass doors, sending shards of glass and twisted metal all over and scattering the Bronze Company. The back doors of the van swung open and Jimmy’s two men started opening cover fire.
“Go! Get your dad in the van!” Jimmy yelled, dropping Tony's limp body and firing his weapon. Gerry didn’t need to be told twice and he quickly shoved the gurney over and lifted Tony off of it, pulling him into the van. G followed after and then Jimmy. Dano and Aubrey pulled the van’s door shut as bullets pinged into the metal.
“Hold on!” came Amelia’s voice from the driver's seat as she gunned the gas, van bouncing off the curb as she sped off the property. Gerard slumped down against the side of the van, yanking the prosthetic beard off.
They did it.
But why did it feel too easy?
I don’t care the odds put in front of me. Quitting ain’t in my DNA. I’m not like the rest of these folks. If the company wants to keep me down and try to screw me over then I’m just gonna burn the fucking place to the ground. It starts at Turmoil. Neither of you jerkoffs is taking the All-In briefcase that I fucking earned. I’ll fucking kill you both before that happens. Because one way or another, I’m gonna get my Hollywood Ending.