IN A BLAZE OF GLORY | Cage, Supremacy
Jan 27, 2022 20:41:39 GMT -5
Mav., Jimbo, and 1 more like this
Post by Drag on Jan 27, 2022 20:41:39 GMT -5
Irish whip. Duck down. Overhead. Hip toss.
Hopefuls in each ring, repeating the moves motion by motion. Some breathing heavy, faces red and blood pumping to maintain pace. Others are stone faced, so stoic as to convey they could do this all day. Or, at least, pretending they could.
All of it set within a large hall, walls decorated with paraphernalia displaying the same message:
Two men stand side-by-side, watching a promotion’s future take shape.
“So.” The portly man on the right says, putting a hand on the shoulder of the man alongside him. One soon to become a voice of this new promotion: BB Gunn. “Whaddya think?”
“There’s people we can use here, definitely.” Gunn nods.
“Didja get a chance to scout the kid?” The portly man inquires, looking over his sunglasses with a Cheshire grin. He points towards a ring nearby.
One man does his drills alongside his peers. Short, curly blonde hair. Moving with machinelike precision. Pace, poise and positioning, all measured. In spite of his clean-cut appearance, his eyes house dark rings underneath. A hollowness inside, compared to his partners. This is a man who has seen sad things.
“Blondie?” Gunn asks. “Seems a good hand. We’ll try use him for some house shows if we’re in the area.”
The portly man chuckles, initially. Gunn’s quiet surveillance of the rest of the class confirms it’s no joke.
“C’mon, that kid’s my best student! Picks things up like that!” He snaps his fingers in emphasis. “Focused, does what he’s told, passionate towards the biz. Shit, I’m pretty sure he’s been living in his car. He needs thi-”
Gunn raises a hand. “Look, I appreciate you’re trying to sell this guy. I’m not saying he isn’t talented. But… If AXW’s gonna make a mark on the Network, we need to give fans; competitors they can’t see everywhere else.”
“If we signed him, he’d give us good matches. Great, even.” Gunn looks the portly man in the eyes. “But, when you look at him, do you see a star?”
The man opens his mouth to answer. Hesitating. Gunn merely nods in response.
“Find me when the drill’s done.” Gunn walks off, examining the other hopefuls. The portly man lets out a weary sigh as he walks over towards the ring occupied by his student. Seeing his trainer make his way towards him, Cage stops his drills - leaning over the ropes to hear the news. What he gets in return, is a look of sympathy.
“I’m sorry, kid.”
We fade in on Nathan Cage. Atop a small hill under the night sky of NOLA, spraying gasoline into a steel barrel. He shoots a glare towards the trepidatious camera crew and beckons them forward. Already, the crew regret Gunn’s decision to rescind the ‘No filming Cage outside NLW' rule.
“Mom never minced words. Remember one time, she pulled me outta school after I’d gotten in trouble. Says to me: “Boy, in life, you ain’t gonna go far.””
In spite of the harsh words, Cage recollects it with a smile.
“But, the thing the junkie bitch left out was:”
Cage dumps the remnants of the gasoline and the container itself into the barrel.
“I’ll make a whole lotta people come up short!”
He turns.
“Ricky Goon. Keahi Sparks. Two people Nathan Cage really doesn’t like. But, am glad they’re sharin’ my ring. Really. I couldn’t have booked it better myself when I dropped ‘em with that steel chair.”
Cage extends his left palm. Mirthless chuckle escaping him.
“Ya got the Champ. Ricky, huddled together with his boys. For the longest time, NLW’s epitome for what it was to be a renegade, a badass! I’ll admit, even if he was always a bit of a pussy, I can see why the average person’d think that. On my debut, I saw this asshole drag himself to the end of the G1 and win the whole damn thing. Beatin’ the likes of MYOJIN an’... El Rey, to do it. Hell, that’s impressive! Reminds me of another “badass” in NLW. Tommy Kelly.”
“Then, ya win the big one. What happens? Complacency.”
Sneering, Cage looks away for a moment in disgust. As though the man himself stood before him.
“Ricky, I don’t give a damn about your shortcomin’s. That you cheated to beat Chant or that you an’ your cunt brother didn’t become the first Tag champs. Doesn’t matter to me, Ric.”
“What MATTERS IS THAT YOU STAGNATED, LIKE TOMMY KELLY! You’re standin’ in my way of raisin’ the bar! So I gotta bury you under it!”
Cage reaches into an unseen bag. Retrieving a VHS tape - ‘DEBUT’ displayed on the side.
“Ya got the challenger.”
Tossing the tape into the barrel, Cage extends his right palm.
“Talented, athletic, strong. But the variable that matters, is GUTS. Cause she’s got ‘em. We shared a debut. Tag match, ‘gainst each other. Her team picked up the win but neither of us really showed what we could do. Since then? We’ve gone unpinned the entire time in NLW - same as Ric, minus the close calls even with E.V.E. in his corner. We’ve both went through some of the best NLW’s got to offer. We’ve both run so far ahead of the pack that we’re already standin’ opposite each other at Supremacy. Belt’s danglin’ inches from reach, an’ we’re both gunnin’ for it.”
Dipping again into the bag, Cage grabs a box of matches.
“So what’s it come down to? Last Ascendancy, Red mentioned somethin’ interesting. To the effect of me, maybe, becomin’ less of a psychotic asshole if I lose. Work through all my problems. Come at NLW, the RIGHT way, like her. But that ain’t an option. I didn’t get this opportunity cause’ve my success. Gunn, put me against his best and brightest and a champ who’s one of the few here who can match me in viciousness, ‘cause that was the only way to save face. So that when I lose, he can flash that fuckin’ grin and say the “Nathan Cage experiment’s over.” I just ain’t got what it takes.”
“Cause I ain’t a star.”
“So, for me? This is it.”
He looks off. Pulling a match from the box. Unblinking.
“THAT’S the difference. Goon may be a cornered rat who will sink real fuckin’ low to keep that title. Red may be the next big thing in NLW. Both of ‘em, even with complainin’ about Management, ain’t gonna have no trouble gettin’ back into the main event scene.”
“I CLAWED my way here. Hurt a lotta people, some of ‘em probably didn’t deserve it, but I don’t apologise for NOTHIN’! Nathan Fuckin’ Cage’s time has come! one way or the other!”
Strike of the match. Cage’s gaze flickers to some unknowable distance perceivable only by him. Possibilities of how things could’ve been. Shaking his head slowly - retreating from it.
“Red, co-opted one of my lines in reference to her chances at Supremacy.”
“Any day, anybody can beat anybody.”
“But, if that’s the mindset either of ‘em walk in with. They fucking lose. You do not have to beat Nathan Fuckin’ Cage at Supremacy. ‘Cause I got nothing else. NOTHING. ELSE… ‘Cept this.”
“I’m willing to die in that ring.”
He drops the match into the barrel. Burst of flames spiralling into the sky.
“Past’s the past. Either I’m NLW’s future. Or, I’ll go out…”
He stops. Words hanging in the air as the inferno crackles on.
Hopefuls in each ring, repeating the moves motion by motion. Some breathing heavy, faces red and blood pumping to maintain pace. Others are stone faced, so stoic as to convey they could do this all day. Or, at least, pretending they could.
All of it set within a large hall, walls decorated with paraphernalia displaying the same message:
..::‘WE. ARE. ANONYMOUS.’::..
“So.” The portly man on the right says, putting a hand on the shoulder of the man alongside him. One soon to become a voice of this new promotion: BB Gunn. “Whaddya think?”
“There’s people we can use here, definitely.” Gunn nods.
“Didja get a chance to scout the kid?” The portly man inquires, looking over his sunglasses with a Cheshire grin. He points towards a ring nearby.
One man does his drills alongside his peers. Short, curly blonde hair. Moving with machinelike precision. Pace, poise and positioning, all measured. In spite of his clean-cut appearance, his eyes house dark rings underneath. A hollowness inside, compared to his partners. This is a man who has seen sad things.
“Blondie?” Gunn asks. “Seems a good hand. We’ll try use him for some house shows if we’re in the area.”
The portly man chuckles, initially. Gunn’s quiet surveillance of the rest of the class confirms it’s no joke.
“C’mon, that kid’s my best student! Picks things up like that!” He snaps his fingers in emphasis. “Focused, does what he’s told, passionate towards the biz. Shit, I’m pretty sure he’s been living in his car. He needs thi-”
Gunn raises a hand. “Look, I appreciate you’re trying to sell this guy. I’m not saying he isn’t talented. But… If AXW’s gonna make a mark on the Network, we need to give fans; competitors they can’t see everywhere else.”
“If we signed him, he’d give us good matches. Great, even.” Gunn looks the portly man in the eyes. “But, when you look at him, do you see a star?”
The man opens his mouth to answer. Hesitating. Gunn merely nods in response.
“Find me when the drill’s done.” Gunn walks off, examining the other hopefuls. The portly man lets out a weary sigh as he walks over towards the ring occupied by his student. Seeing his trainer make his way towards him, Cage stops his drills - leaning over the ropes to hear the news. What he gets in return, is a look of sympathy.
“I’m sorry, kid.”
*Fsssst!*
*Fsssssssst!*
We fade in on Nathan Cage. Atop a small hill under the night sky of NOLA, spraying gasoline into a steel barrel. He shoots a glare towards the trepidatious camera crew and beckons them forward. Already, the crew regret Gunn’s decision to rescind the ‘No filming Cage outside NLW' rule.
“Mom never minced words. Remember one time, she pulled me outta school after I’d gotten in trouble. Says to me: “Boy, in life, you ain’t gonna go far.””
In spite of the harsh words, Cage recollects it with a smile.
“But, the thing the junkie bitch left out was:”
Cage dumps the remnants of the gasoline and the container itself into the barrel.
“I’ll make a whole lotta people come up short!”
He turns.
“Ricky Goon. Keahi Sparks. Two people Nathan Cage really doesn’t like. But, am glad they’re sharin’ my ring. Really. I couldn’t have booked it better myself when I dropped ‘em with that steel chair.”
Cage extends his left palm. Mirthless chuckle escaping him.
“Ya got the Champ. Ricky, huddled together with his boys. For the longest time, NLW’s epitome for what it was to be a renegade, a badass! I’ll admit, even if he was always a bit of a pussy, I can see why the average person’d think that. On my debut, I saw this asshole drag himself to the end of the G1 and win the whole damn thing. Beatin’ the likes of MYOJIN an’... El Rey, to do it. Hell, that’s impressive! Reminds me of another “badass” in NLW. Tommy Kelly.”
“Then, ya win the big one. What happens? Complacency.”
Sneering, Cage looks away for a moment in disgust. As though the man himself stood before him.
“Ricky, I don’t give a damn about your shortcomin’s. That you cheated to beat Chant or that you an’ your cunt brother didn’t become the first Tag champs. Doesn’t matter to me, Ric.”
“What MATTERS IS THAT YOU STAGNATED, LIKE TOMMY KELLY! You’re standin’ in my way of raisin’ the bar! So I gotta bury you under it!”
Cage reaches into an unseen bag. Retrieving a VHS tape - ‘DEBUT’ displayed on the side.
“Ya got the challenger.”
Tossing the tape into the barrel, Cage extends his right palm.
“Talented, athletic, strong. But the variable that matters, is GUTS. Cause she’s got ‘em. We shared a debut. Tag match, ‘gainst each other. Her team picked up the win but neither of us really showed what we could do. Since then? We’ve gone unpinned the entire time in NLW - same as Ric, minus the close calls even with E.V.E. in his corner. We’ve both went through some of the best NLW’s got to offer. We’ve both run so far ahead of the pack that we’re already standin’ opposite each other at Supremacy. Belt’s danglin’ inches from reach, an’ we’re both gunnin’ for it.”
Dipping again into the bag, Cage grabs a box of matches.
“So what’s it come down to? Last Ascendancy, Red mentioned somethin’ interesting. To the effect of me, maybe, becomin’ less of a psychotic asshole if I lose. Work through all my problems. Come at NLW, the RIGHT way, like her. But that ain’t an option. I didn’t get this opportunity cause’ve my success. Gunn, put me against his best and brightest and a champ who’s one of the few here who can match me in viciousness, ‘cause that was the only way to save face. So that when I lose, he can flash that fuckin’ grin and say the “Nathan Cage experiment’s over.” I just ain’t got what it takes.”
“Cause I ain’t a star.”
“So, for me? This is it.”
He looks off. Pulling a match from the box. Unblinking.
“THAT’S the difference. Goon may be a cornered rat who will sink real fuckin’ low to keep that title. Red may be the next big thing in NLW. Both of ‘em, even with complainin’ about Management, ain’t gonna have no trouble gettin’ back into the main event scene.”
“I CLAWED my way here. Hurt a lotta people, some of ‘em probably didn’t deserve it, but I don’t apologise for NOTHIN’! Nathan Fuckin’ Cage’s time has come! one way or the other!”
Strike of the match. Cage’s gaze flickers to some unknowable distance perceivable only by him. Possibilities of how things could’ve been. Shaking his head slowly - retreating from it.
“Red, co-opted one of my lines in reference to her chances at Supremacy.”
“Any day, anybody can beat anybody.”
“But, if that’s the mindset either of ‘em walk in with. They fucking lose. You do not have to beat Nathan Fuckin’ Cage at Supremacy. ‘Cause I got nothing else. NOTHING. ELSE… ‘Cept this.”
“I’m willing to die in that ring.”
He drops the match into the barrel. Burst of flames spiralling into the sky.
“Past’s the past. Either I’m NLW’s future. Or, I’ll go out…”
He stops. Words hanging in the air as the inferno crackles on.
