Post by Tommy Kelly on Nov 25, 2021 18:54:00 GMT -5
“Is he ready?”
“I’ve tested him, I’ve challenged him, and I’ve broken him. If he is not ready now, then he will never be.”
She looks at him, a slightly concerned look upon her face.
“...he is ready. He is formidable, he is fast, and he is ruthless. A truly admirable warrior.”
“Good. He will need to be at his best for this fight, otherwise… we could be burying the old man.”
Not often does she doubt her clients, but Bodhi understands that this time things are different. This time he’s not fighting a parody like Joe Blow, he’s not fighting a professional like Eli Dresden. He’s going into that ring with a mongrel, a total asshole.
“Cage is unhinged, an absolute psychopath. He’s got this sick twisted obsession with Kelly, and I’ve no idea why. He wants his head on a pike. Fuck, maybe Tommy fucked his mother years back or something, who knows.”
“Cage is but a man, a mortal. A fool. Kelly is a warrior, he is immortal. Deathless not only by name. I have stood before him as his leader in the past, a lifetime ago I do not truly remember, but the man before me tonight, sparring in that ring with me… he is an equal. A warrior that could topple a Titan.”
Bodhi looks up to her friend, seeing the truth in his eyes. Hyperion is not one to show compassion or humility, not known to even acknowledge a true contender but the way he speaks of Tommy Kelly…
“Then we’re ready. The Crow will fly once again, and after this… we can only see what happens. Whether he dies to his demons or he thrives in the victory of this fight, Tommy is going to be a new man. And Cage…”
“If Kelly is unable to muzzle that dog, then we will step in.”
Bodhi nods, her and Hyperion in agreement. The camera pans around them to showcase the gym they are attending, a makeshift boxing ring in the center. From the sweat on the brow of Hyperion, to the tousled gear bags on the bench nearby, a frantic training session has occurred here.
Tommy Kelly is not known for his athleticism. Not famous for his skills in the ring, for his professional demeanor when wrestling. He is not known for being a crowd pleaser, least not for the right reasons. No, his name is synonymous with Next Level Wrestling, Anonymous Xtreme Wrestling and even Anonymous Underground for two very stark reasons;
His vices, his violence.
Nathan Cage truly is a mad dog unleashed, a beast in action ready to tear and rip his foes apart. Hungry and wild, he lives to decimate his foes. He lives to conquer his opponents. But as of late, his obsession has been the StormCrow. The former Jackal. The current Deathless superstar.
“But why? Why is Cage so hooked on the idea that he needs to defeat Tommy Kelly?”
Bodhi’s concerns are not alone, for many have pondered the same thing. Does he seek the fame of conquering a former champion? Does he wish to be added to the exclusive club of people that have bested Tommy Kelly? Or is his existence so null, so unimportant that he is clutching to the superstar for his sparse moment in the spotlight.
“A victory over the Crow is more than bragging rights to a man like Cage. It is a ticket, a pass to challenge the authorities to listen up and take notice of him. A hungry dog that needs to be fed, this is how he gathers the attention of his masters. This is how he communicates.”
Alas, the aspirations and dreams of the young fighter means nothing. In the grand scheme of things, in the larger scope of what's to come, the result is inevitable. Nathan Cage, the rabid dog of Next Level doesn’t stand a chance. Putting his best foot forward means nothing, if that foot is too slow, too weak.
An old man, a feeble shadow of whom he once was… but the fight still left in Tommy Kelly’s bones is immense. Pushing towards retirement with a list of accolades longer than Cage’s entire fight count, Kelly shows something that Cage is lacking…
...true grit. True determination. And a massive lack of fucks to be given.
“Go find him, get him showered and dressed. I’ll set up the camera and we’ll get his final promo for this fight.”
Bodhi motions for Hyperion to get moving, and the duo take their leave of this gym, once and for all.
Returning to a live cut, this time showing a leather-wrapped chair. A throne of demure elegance and arrogance only a true maniac would use. A ‘Morpheus chair’, of sorts. Beside it sits a table with a decanter and a single rocks glass, a pricey drink saved for a deserving tongue.
As we watch the chair, the current feed playing through a VHS-like distortion, we see two individuals approach from each side.
To the right, XHF legend Hyperion. Longtime partner to the Crow, and current enforcer of the Deathless mantra.
To the left, XHF legend Bodhi. Former Women’s champ, current SCCW dominator, and managing staff to Tommy Kelly.
Finally, the man of the hour himself appears. The StormCrow. The Jackal. The Deathless, Tommy Kelly.
Wearing a torn leather jacket, unbutton shirt showing some chest hair and tattered jeans, he slouches into the chair, sunglasses remaining on.
“I can’t believe I need to feckin’ say this, as if I’m a broken record, but who t’fuck gives a shit about Nathan Cage?”
His argument is in vain, as reluctantly he still takes a seat before the camera. He pours himself a glass of brown nectar, swirling the beverage and drinking in its smells with open nostrils. A fine aged spirit, like himself.
“This drink is a lot like me, Cage. Old, strong, graceful and oh so much better than you.”
He takes a sip, savouring it.
“Nathan, honestly, I don’t understand your beef with me lad. I seriously dnt. If I pissed in your cornflakes or fucked your mother, then I truly meant to do that. But I don’t remember doing either of those things.”
He sips again.
“Unsanctioned, Crow versus Dog. This is the mess you've gotten us into, a bloodbath looming between two warriors. An old man and the jealous young star looking to take his place. David versus Goliath. The only thing that I don’t get is...why?”
He leans back in his chair, and removes his sunshades.
“Why didn’t we just team up? Why didn’t we just put differences aside, and form a unity? Fuck lad, why didn’t you just take me out for pints and be my pal?”
He ‘tut-tut’s, again sipping his drink. Hyperion and Bodhi stand firm and vigilante by his side.
“Cage, I’ll be really honest here… I never wanted this fight. I fuckin’ like you kid, I think you’re a stud. A loud, brash, cocky little cunt… you remind me a lot of me. A young Kelly, tearing off skirts and rippin’ open necks. Why did ya have to go and call out my fuckin’ name.”
He puts the glass down on the side table, and leans forward so elbows are resting on knees.
“Death by Cage, Death by Cage… I heard you, chanting that like some fuckin’ lunatic. Like some madman that’s expecting a mob to form around ya. Looking for those small town jerkoffs to congo-line with you all the way to Homecoming and lynch the Crow in front of the world.”
He laughs, sitting back in the chair.
“I dunno anymore… This match is a mistake. You fucked up. Unsanctioned, off the books, all holds allowed, fuckin’ nuts on a banana madness. I don’t know why you got this deathwish, but I’m sorry it’s me you chose to get it from.”
Tommy grabs the glass, and chugs the remaining drink. He lifts the glass like some dickhead celeb and his own manager Bodhi takes the empty from him.
“Homecoming, when that bell rings, it’s just me and you. Look at everyone that's fought me before look at all those stars out there that fell before me. Joe Blow, Eli Dresden, Robbie Arnold, Dylan Black. From top to bottom, they all gave their best, put their years of experience into those fights, and this old fucker still won.”
Tommy stands up, the camera catching his torso and a bit of his face. He leans into the camera.
“Death TO Cage. Death TO Cage. What will happen when the crowd turns on you, chants that with me, and I bust yer feckin’ neck on that mat? Neddy… you fucked up. And sadly, it’s time for me to show you why. See you soon, kiddo.”
Tommy shoots the camera a wink, a smirk and reloads his sunglasses onto his face before walking off camera. The static VHS-life effect continues for a moment, before we finally cut to nothing.
