Statements (Caffrey #2)

[anthonycaffrey]

“Yeah, fuck the Icons.” 

We see the AWF’s representative for brand warfare, Anthony Caffrey, sitting on top of a crate in the hallways of the Memphis Pyramid. He has his iPhone out and seems to have just finished watching their latest segment. He looks down at the camera with the sinister smile that could only come from the Chief Asshole. 

“That one little statement will immediately get this segment more views than any others for the show. They’ll play that sound bite, censored and all, anywhere the XHF can be found. It’s a small statement, yet very powerful. It’ll do me wonders.” 

He puts a finger up as he deliberately pauses. 

“Another one of those statements is me telling Tarresque I’m going to choke him until he dies or passes out. Now once again, once again damnit, just like after I told the world I was going to go through the year undefeated -- I’ve got people knocking on my door. The text messages seem to stop. It’s almost like I’ve slowly become a press magnet as one of the biggest stars this federation has to offer -- and people keep coming up to me and asking, “Really? You plan to choke him out? That’s it?” 

Caffrey’s impression of his skeptics and critics is a particularly snarky one. He doesn’t seem to care for anyone other than himself. 

“I even had one very real idiot who will not be named come up to me in this hallway telling me, “hey, why don’t you like, do a chair-assisted CAL or something, man?”  

The level of eye-rolling Caffrey’s doing right now is incredible. His eyes could fall out of his head if he’s not careful. 

“To which I responded, A) it’s now the Process, and B) what am I supposed to do? Grab his giant ass tree trunk of a leg and wrap a chair around his foot and then twist? How the hell is that going to help me deal with a giant freak who could break me like squares off a chocolate bar because I’m pretty sure the idiot doesn’t even know his own strength?” 

Caffrey sighs. 

“And yeah, he beat the hell out of my guy. I had never met him before, but he came up to me  and wouldn’t shut up about how big of a fan he was. I knew he was a scrawny little bastard. I knew if I fed him to you he would go in with some kind of mindset where he chose to ignore your size and merit. It’s not a mistake I’m making. I know you are a formidable beast, and I’ve planned as such. But I knew he'd walk in completely confident and get absolutely knocked on his ass. But he kept telling me about how he was an up-and-comer and how he’s my biggest fan. So I decided to test his statement by sending him your way. Next time he’ll keep his mouth shut at the fucking gym, won’t he?” 

Caffrey cackles at the misfortune of others. 

“However, there was one thing… weirdly reassuring… that popped up this week. Something I haven’t been able to take my mind off in-between creating bulletin board statements and headlines. It was a simple little thing on the website, but it’s got me thinking.” 

His attention turns away from the camera for a few seconds as he begins rapidly typing on his phone and clicking to the page he’s talking about. He scrolls up and down the page as he talks to prove his point. 

“This is a list of predictions for Supremacy on Sunday. I’m sure the comments section will fill up with trolls now, but… look. Look at Tarresque vs. Caffrey. Caffrey. Caffrey. Caffrey. My name gets misspelled at one point, but hey, still me. There’s one vote from an idiot for a fellow idiot so far. But hey, joke’s on me for expecting perfection out of a group that can only dream of what I’m doing.” 

He slides his phone back into the inner pocket of his leather jacket. His grin has returned in a big way. 

“You see, three months after the Fall of Caffrey, the close of AXW… where everyone proclaimed my demise as if Vinc-” 

Caffrey stops. The name still gives him trouble. He does his best to power through. 

“Everyone proclaimed my demise as if… as if it was the end of my career, the end of my relentless pursuit of glory and greatness. Yet here I sit in some weird ass pyramid, thousands of miles away from where my legacy and career was supposed to have ended, and once again, just like before... almost everyone knows I’m going to win. It’s a powerful statement.” 

Caffrey quickly puts a hand up to clarify something. 

“And no, no -- don’t twist the narrative. They don’t want me to win. They aren’t screaming my name because they like me. I’m not showing up to an arena full of 20,000 Caffroholics screaming my name. Nooooooo. If they’re screaming my name, they’re screaming it with an obscenity in front. Nobody wants me, nobody likes me, but Goddamnit, they know. They know I won’t stop.” 

Caffrey catches the camera with a look of intensity. 

“Let’s face it: I’m basically fighting a bear on Sunday. The only difference is that Tarresque doesn’t have claws, and somehow knows who Hulk Hogan is. So after boring me to tears with his origin stories that wwere somehow worse than the opening of every Spider-Man reboot I’ve sat through, the world’s least polite Canadian is going to hulk up and kick my ass. Sure.” 

He sneers. 

“And sure, he’ll kick my ass. But I’ve made it my business to get my ass handed to me and survive. I went three hours in last year’s Rumble. A twenty minute Last Man Standing Match where he tries and fails to rip me limb from limb will hurt the same way. The thing is… and I hate that I’m making this comparison, but  if he’s Hulk Hogan… I think that makes me Gawker.” 

Caffrey’s got two hands frantically waving in front of the cameras this time. 

“No no no, I promise you. There will be no racist statements nor sightings of that thing’s dick on Sunday. I promise. The only thing person getting dicked over on Sunday is whichever woman I bring back to my place. And yeah, that was crude, but you’ll have to let me just allegedly rub my sexuality all over this message so that way it catches the fire and the eyeballs that every LGBTKO segment seems to be doing these days.” 

Caffrey shrugs. 

“Sorry gentlemen, I hate to stoop down to the level of the ingrates and homophobes that plague the crowds we perform in front of. But I gotta say, two of you are world class, and one of you is a little… short… of greatness, yet here I am with big fuckin’ challenges on two different shows and I can’t even get a moment of your time. My first night, I knocked on Seth Dillinger’s doorstep and since then, you boys are runnin’ scared.” 

He puts a finger up. 

“But you’re not the only ones. I’ve beaten to death already that Maverick is hiding for fear of me taking his title and wiping the floor with him, but Death Trap’s about to beat me to that punch anyway. It’s a terrible shame. I would have really enjoyed getting to enter the Rumble from the last spot instead of having to win it from like, #6 or something.” 

Caffrey slides off his box and begins to walk down the halls. He sticks his hands in his pockets and talks as he walks. 

“But then there’s the Icons, two guys who aren’t over the hill. Or at least they swear they aren’t, and hell, Bobby B won the X-Crown against last year. I’m already sick of them. You’ve got Bobby Barratt, a man who can’t fuckin’ outlast me, and then you have Jack-off Diamond. I’ve heard the stories… but there’s a reason Jack retired, folks. It’s because he doesn’t have my kind of drive. It’ll win him matches against Copycat -- and lord, if he wants to celebrate that, more power to him -- but I only brag because I beat real competition.” 

Caffrey stops at the front of the exit to the parking lot. 

“I bet you’re sitting there wondering right now, “Caffrey, what the fuck are you on about? How does this relate to Tarresque?” 

He laughs before pressing on the metal bar and passing through the door. He hits a few buttons on his phone before planting himself and looking back to the camera. He takes a deep breath in the cold night, letting out a stream of air before continuing. 

“This Sunday is a statement. It’s a statement to every one of these jackasses who sit in their own little bubbles trying to ignore the man who’s going to ruin their lives. When I arrived to AWF, I called myself the Homewrecker. Admittedly, it didn't stick, and I can’t tell you how dirty I feel to be representing this group of spineless cowards, but… but it’s already happening. Slowly but surely, the walls are coming down brick by brick as I rip apart the AWF ankle by ankle in order to retake my claim as The Best.” 

There is no smile on Caffrey’s face. The same look of determination returns. 

“And I got there in the first place by never stopping. This Sunday, Tarresque, you’re going to try to break this---” 

Caffrey reaches into his jacket and produces just a few links of steel chain. He holds it up to the camera and tugs on it for emphasis. 

“---and I welcome you to try. I’m sure these idiots that pack up the Pyramid will love it. I’ll wrap this chain around your neck and you'll try your hardest. I have no doubt you''ll find a way to utilize your power, as your strength is your only strength. Your two-bit trainer will push you to give everything you have… but chain or no chain, you’re still going to meet the similar fate the rest have. To them, it was that I’d kick out at two. For you,  you’re going to have to deal with the Philadelphia Phighter, standing back up at the count of nine, bleeding badly out of an open wound, and even after you’ve knocked three of my teeth out, I’ll still be jawing at you that you haven’t finished the job you damned dirty ape-lookin’ motherfucker.” 

Caffrey’s eyes display a laser-sharp focus as he stares into the camera. 

“This Sunday, I will send a statement over your limp body to the entire XHF: Anthony Caffrey will not stop. This is still just the beginning. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll still win next week, next month, and even into next year. All the rest can run and hide behind anyone they damn well choose, but on at Supremacy Tarrasque, your lifeless corpse will be the next piece of proof that I’m not just talking out of my ass: I will go undefeated in 2020.” 

Caffrey reaches into his pocket one more time to take a long, hard look at the chain. Something about it is calming and reassuring: the fact that Caffrey knows exactly what he must do to take down the beast. And that the whole world knows he can do it. 

“And when your manager goes to write your obituary, the statement right under your name will be that you stepped in my ring and paid the ultimate price. But don’t worry--- I’ll leave him an envelope to pay for your funeral.” 

Caffrey’s sinister smile returns right before he steps into the backseat of the vehicle that’s just pulled up. The camera cuts.