Heart of a Phighter [Last RP Ever]
May 2, 2022 21:48:14 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, bloodiedfox, and 2 more like this
Post by anthonycaffrey on May 2, 2022 21:48:14 GMT -5
March 30th, 2022
We join the The Purple Emperor in the midst of Rumble prep. He is running the ropes nonstop as General Manager of FIRESIDE and Caffrey’s agent, Marcus Washington, sits outside of the ring with flashcards.
Marcus: FASTER! You’ve got cardio for days? Prove it! Rat Bastard.
Caffrey: Horribly overrated-- took his golden opportunity to punch someone in the dick and wasted the most of their moment. NEXT--
Marcus: Zoran Sainovic. FASTER!
Caffrey: OLD. Weirdly goofy. Whew--
Marcus: Keep going.
Caffrey is beginning to breathe heavily as he keeps his feet moving.
Marcus: Sam Sawyer.
Caffrey: Future of-- the comp-- ah, what the fuck?
Caffrey clutches his chest and keeps going, his run having declined into a jog.
Marcus: Keep going! Adrien Cochrane.
Caffrey: Adrien--Adrien--
Caffrey nosedives, falling face forward, completely unprotected. He smashes his face on the mat, his arms not moving.
Marcus: Caffrey? Get u--CAFFREY!
Marcus drops the cards and climbs into the ring frantically screaming!
Marcus: MEDIC! WE NEED A MEDIC!
______________
April 26th, 2022
It’s a dark and cloudy night outside of Caffrey’s Philadelphia home. The camera comes in through the window, revealing the man staring at the famous picture of himself holding the AXW Undisputed Championship over Chris Card. We hear a loud beep.
Voicemail: Mr. Caffrey, hi, sir, this is Dr. Lagari. I have your tests that you’ve given in, I just wanted to call and say that you still shouldn't be medically cleared. I shouldn’t be saying this over the phone, and I know you’ve made strides to recover but the arrhythmia could k--
Caffrey hits the button to delete the voicemail.
Voicemail #2: Mr. Caffrey sir, my name is Nancy and I’m from Wells Fargo. We are calling to discuss the balance of your business loans and when you’ll be paying your debts. We can be reached at…
Caffrey presses the button again, this time taking a swing of something dark brown.
Voicemail #3 (Marcus): Hey man, uh… I understand if you’re not talking to me still, listen I get it with everything going on, but uh I don’t know if you saw, but Seth Dillinger is back, man. And the board, well, the board had this idea to put him in your XHF Junior Heavyweight Match so we could jack up the ticket prices and help settle some of this debt, so I went ahead and approved…
Caffrey drops the glass, it shatters loudly enough that it’s hard to make out what Marcus has said. Caffrey dials him.
Caffrey: YOU FUCKING DID WHAT?
Marcus: Hey man, how you doin’?
Caffrey: You already tried to kill me once you fuck, now you’re trying to do it again? Who gave you the right to put Dillinger in this thing?
Marcus: Ant. I’m the GM. Calm down. Drink something, have a water. Stop screaming at me, sit down. You know it’s bad for you and your heart---
Caffrey: --don’t talk it.
Marcus: Maaaan, you’re looking at it the wrong way. Be happy you lived, Caff. Soccer players drop dead of what you have. You got a second chance man, this is where people go and reverse Scrooge up their lives.
Caffrey takes a deep breath, reaching for the bottle of whiskey. He takes the lid off with his mouth and takes a swig.
Caffrey: I want to wrestle, Marcus. All I've ever wanted, all my life. And now I'm trapped in this shit.
Marcus: So after this match, ya can’t do that anymore. I get it, that sucks. But you just ran FIRESIDE for like a year without---
Caffrey: --without medical bills on top of personnel bills on top of venue bills on top of rent on top of insurance on top of fucking back pay on top of goddamnitMarcusIthoughtyouwere supposedtobecalmingmedown.
Marcus: Don’t you have any of those pills?
Caffrey: I took them already, I can’t take them again today. This was all supposed to work, Marcus! I come back to wrestling, become X-Crown champion again, the ratings shoot us back up to the top of the network, and all these fucking bills were gonnna go away. I’m a master planner Marcus I don’tknowhowthefuckthisdidntworkout.
Marcus: Breathe! Breathe. Breaaaaaaaaaaathe. Sit down and breathe. Breathe.
Caffrey stops standing directly over his landline and sits in a large brown chair. He has another sip of his drink as he unbottons his top two buttons, staring at the incision site of his pacemaker.
Marcus: Breathe.
Caffrey: Please stop telling me to breathe. I’m doing my best.
Marcus: I know.
Caffrey: Stupid fucking heart.
Marcus: You know, with all the teasing you’ve done over the years about wrestlers and concussions, I thought it’d be dementia that’d put you down for the count.
There is a silence.
Caffrey: Was that supposed to be funny?
Marcus: I’m sorry.
Caffrey: I’m not dead, Marcus.
Caffrey looks down at his chest and murmurs something.
Marcus: What was that?
Caffrey: Nothing.
He takes a deep breath.
Caffrey: I’mma go, Marcus. Thank you. For everything.
Marcus: You should try to sleep.
Caffrey: Goodnight.
Caffrey ends the call. He downs the remains of the bottle before reaching up, removing the portrait hanging above the hearth in his home.
Caffrey: In fourteen years of wrestling, I never had anything this nice. This was the moment I remembered more, more than anything. Winning the Crown on a boat in the middle of nowhere was something, but this, this was a moment where I told everyone I was better, and maybe the first time in fourteen years I finally had proven myself right. I remember calling up V afterwards like a giddy child before going out and getting absolutely blasted with the AVA boys.
Caffrey: Now? Now I have one more chance at championship gold, one more piece of glory and gold to send my legacy off on a high note. Fuck going out on my back, I’ll go out with my fist raised high with a solitary middle finger to the masses. That is the spirit of FIRESIDE; that is our legacy. A fuck you to the old ways, and a dawning of the new.
Caffrey: Nelly Angel, you don’t get to dictate what FIRESIDE’s legacy is, you chucklefuck. Congratulations on beating a dick and getting paid for it rather than doing it in the privacy of your own home. You know, every time I think about you, I think about your Super Duos championships with Quake, your inane commentary that somehow makes me wish to have sexual predator Jerry the King back, and your massively unfortunate alcoholism.
Caffrey: Then Marcus tells me I’m actually thinking of Randy Angel.
He laughs, shaking his head.
Caffrey: Who the fuck are you? Who the fuck are you to spit on my legacy, deride how I run my business and my company? What gives you the right to shit on my last show, my close? What have you done that I should care about? You’re not even the best Angel in the XHF, do you know how sad that is? Yet you think you can point fingers and shoot shots at me --- the only thing you’ve got over me at this point is this…
He pats his chest.
Caffrey: …and that’s not going to be enough to stop me. I could drop dead in that ring next week and knowing my legacy, my skill, and my friggin’ luck when the lights are on brightest, my corpse would be covering your forgettable ass for the three count. We’ve already had a pig as champion, why not a dead guy?
Caffrey turns in for a moment.
Caffrey: I guess Spike counts. I dunno. Point being, you’re fucked, Nelly. You should’ve taken pride in being so forgettable, hoping I’d lock my attention on the other guy so you could steal a three count when my back’s turned. Because now you’ve drawn the ire of a man with literally nothing left to lose and a legacy to secure through rendering you incapable of walking. Maybe Randy can meet you at the hospital with booze and crutches.
Caffrey takes a deep breath.
Caffrey: And the other guy… ah, Seth. This was supposed to be such a bigger moment, the battle of Philadelphia, the Key vs. the Kingpin, a grandiose global show that would leave ‘em talking for years and years to come. I thought you were dead, Seth. You’d broken your back or some shit with Maverick. Did it haunt you for all that time that no one was happy that your last match was against that ungrateful brat? Did it haunt you that people wanted more a match against Fox, Ryan, or even me? I assume it must’ve haunted you to be such a massive disappointment, otherwise those ghosts wouldn’t have chased you back into a wrestling ring.
Caffrey: I saw that you had a great Rumble, much better than mine. Congratulations on blowing the element of surprise and being unable to get the job done. How are you going to fare back in the ring now? Is it going to be Dillinger circa two, three years ago where you got your ass kicked 90% of any given match, only to make a triumphant comeback in the final stretch? Or am I going against the obnoxious dickhead doing his best me impression?
Caffrey shakes his head.
Caffrey: You’re not even the greatest LGBTQ wrestler anymore, Seth. How’d that happen? Misha might’ve gone to some kind of multiverse, but wherever he exists, he’s better than you. Bloodied Fox had lapped you before you even broke yourself. MYOJIN may be a giant pain-in-the-ass but they have skill and precision. And MAJESTY, wherever that scary motherfucker is… well, you wouldn’t have stood a goddamn chance against them. When it comes to the best Phillly guy, you’re second best and we both know that, but for a man who made his legacy on a rainbow flag, you’re not even second best anymore.
Caffrey reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys. Strangely, he begins carving into the portrait. We see a wild look in the former X-Crown champion’s eyes.
Caffrey: This is how it ends; I’m running out of time and I’m dealing with an idiot and a ghostbuster while watching my garden quickly erode. It’s gonna be a great summer with Diamond and all of them, I’m sorry I’m missing all these great shows that suddenly sprang up immediately after we announced we’re closing. But the truth is, I’m sad, boys. I’m sad that I can’t keep it up after I beat the shit out of both of you. I just… can’t keep up anymore. This is it. One last time, one final moment for the legacy, for the garden I’ll never get to see. I’d keep going, but even as lifeless I’ll be come next Thursday, the truth of the matter is simple…
In one swift moment of fury, Caffrey pulls at the portrait, removing whatever he was carving.
Caffrey: …my heart’s just not in it.
In another swift moment, Caffrey chucks his favorite possession as hard as he can against the wall. We can hear Caffrey sniff back some tears, but the camera is focused on the wooden frame breaking into pieces upon impact. The final visual we see one more time is the old portrait, with Caffrey on top holding a title, and a hole where his heart would have been.
We join the The Purple Emperor in the midst of Rumble prep. He is running the ropes nonstop as General Manager of FIRESIDE and Caffrey’s agent, Marcus Washington, sits outside of the ring with flashcards.
Marcus: FASTER! You’ve got cardio for days? Prove it! Rat Bastard.
Caffrey: Horribly overrated-- took his golden opportunity to punch someone in the dick and wasted the most of their moment. NEXT--
Marcus: Zoran Sainovic. FASTER!
Caffrey: OLD. Weirdly goofy. Whew--
Marcus: Keep going.
Caffrey is beginning to breathe heavily as he keeps his feet moving.
Marcus: Sam Sawyer.
Caffrey: Future of-- the comp-- ah, what the fuck?
Caffrey clutches his chest and keeps going, his run having declined into a jog.
Marcus: Keep going! Adrien Cochrane.
Caffrey: Adrien--Adrien--
Caffrey nosedives, falling face forward, completely unprotected. He smashes his face on the mat, his arms not moving.
Marcus: Caffrey? Get u--CAFFREY!
Marcus drops the cards and climbs into the ring frantically screaming!
Marcus: MEDIC! WE NEED A MEDIC!
______________
April 26th, 2022
It’s a dark and cloudy night outside of Caffrey’s Philadelphia home. The camera comes in through the window, revealing the man staring at the famous picture of himself holding the AXW Undisputed Championship over Chris Card. We hear a loud beep.
Voicemail: Mr. Caffrey, hi, sir, this is Dr. Lagari. I have your tests that you’ve given in, I just wanted to call and say that you still shouldn't be medically cleared. I shouldn’t be saying this over the phone, and I know you’ve made strides to recover but the arrhythmia could k--
Caffrey hits the button to delete the voicemail.
Voicemail #2: Mr. Caffrey sir, my name is Nancy and I’m from Wells Fargo. We are calling to discuss the balance of your business loans and when you’ll be paying your debts. We can be reached at…
Caffrey presses the button again, this time taking a swing of something dark brown.
Voicemail #3 (Marcus): Hey man, uh… I understand if you’re not talking to me still, listen I get it with everything going on, but uh I don’t know if you saw, but Seth Dillinger is back, man. And the board, well, the board had this idea to put him in your XHF Junior Heavyweight Match so we could jack up the ticket prices and help settle some of this debt, so I went ahead and approved…
Caffrey drops the glass, it shatters loudly enough that it’s hard to make out what Marcus has said. Caffrey dials him.
Caffrey: YOU FUCKING DID WHAT?
Marcus: Hey man, how you doin’?
Caffrey: You already tried to kill me once you fuck, now you’re trying to do it again? Who gave you the right to put Dillinger in this thing?
Marcus: Ant. I’m the GM. Calm down. Drink something, have a water. Stop screaming at me, sit down. You know it’s bad for you and your heart---
Caffrey: --don’t talk it.
Marcus: Maaaan, you’re looking at it the wrong way. Be happy you lived, Caff. Soccer players drop dead of what you have. You got a second chance man, this is where people go and reverse Scrooge up their lives.
Caffrey takes a deep breath, reaching for the bottle of whiskey. He takes the lid off with his mouth and takes a swig.
Caffrey: I want to wrestle, Marcus. All I've ever wanted, all my life. And now I'm trapped in this shit.
Marcus: So after this match, ya can’t do that anymore. I get it, that sucks. But you just ran FIRESIDE for like a year without---
Caffrey: --without medical bills on top of personnel bills on top of venue bills on top of rent on top of insurance on top of fucking back pay on top of goddamnitMarcusIthoughtyouwere supposedtobecalmingmedown.
Marcus: Don’t you have any of those pills?
Caffrey: I took them already, I can’t take them again today. This was all supposed to work, Marcus! I come back to wrestling, become X-Crown champion again, the ratings shoot us back up to the top of the network, and all these fucking bills were gonnna go away. I’m a master planner Marcus I don’tknowhowthefuckthisdidntworkout.
Marcus: Breathe! Breathe. Breaaaaaaaaaaathe. Sit down and breathe. Breathe.
Caffrey stops standing directly over his landline and sits in a large brown chair. He has another sip of his drink as he unbottons his top two buttons, staring at the incision site of his pacemaker.
Marcus: Breathe.
Caffrey: Please stop telling me to breathe. I’m doing my best.
Marcus: I know.
Caffrey: Stupid fucking heart.
Marcus: You know, with all the teasing you’ve done over the years about wrestlers and concussions, I thought it’d be dementia that’d put you down for the count.
There is a silence.
Caffrey: Was that supposed to be funny?
Marcus: I’m sorry.
Caffrey: I’m not dead, Marcus.
Caffrey looks down at his chest and murmurs something.
Marcus: What was that?
Caffrey: Nothing.
He takes a deep breath.
Caffrey: I’mma go, Marcus. Thank you. For everything.
Marcus: You should try to sleep.
Caffrey: Goodnight.
Caffrey ends the call. He downs the remains of the bottle before reaching up, removing the portrait hanging above the hearth in his home.
Caffrey: In fourteen years of wrestling, I never had anything this nice. This was the moment I remembered more, more than anything. Winning the Crown on a boat in the middle of nowhere was something, but this, this was a moment where I told everyone I was better, and maybe the first time in fourteen years I finally had proven myself right. I remember calling up V afterwards like a giddy child before going out and getting absolutely blasted with the AVA boys.
Caffrey: Now? Now I have one more chance at championship gold, one more piece of glory and gold to send my legacy off on a high note. Fuck going out on my back, I’ll go out with my fist raised high with a solitary middle finger to the masses. That is the spirit of FIRESIDE; that is our legacy. A fuck you to the old ways, and a dawning of the new.
Caffrey: Nelly Angel, you don’t get to dictate what FIRESIDE’s legacy is, you chucklefuck. Congratulations on beating a dick and getting paid for it rather than doing it in the privacy of your own home. You know, every time I think about you, I think about your Super Duos championships with Quake, your inane commentary that somehow makes me wish to have sexual predator Jerry the King back, and your massively unfortunate alcoholism.
Caffrey: Then Marcus tells me I’m actually thinking of Randy Angel.
He laughs, shaking his head.
Caffrey: Who the fuck are you? Who the fuck are you to spit on my legacy, deride how I run my business and my company? What gives you the right to shit on my last show, my close? What have you done that I should care about? You’re not even the best Angel in the XHF, do you know how sad that is? Yet you think you can point fingers and shoot shots at me --- the only thing you’ve got over me at this point is this…
He pats his chest.
Caffrey: …and that’s not going to be enough to stop me. I could drop dead in that ring next week and knowing my legacy, my skill, and my friggin’ luck when the lights are on brightest, my corpse would be covering your forgettable ass for the three count. We’ve already had a pig as champion, why not a dead guy?
Caffrey turns in for a moment.
Caffrey: I guess Spike counts. I dunno. Point being, you’re fucked, Nelly. You should’ve taken pride in being so forgettable, hoping I’d lock my attention on the other guy so you could steal a three count when my back’s turned. Because now you’ve drawn the ire of a man with literally nothing left to lose and a legacy to secure through rendering you incapable of walking. Maybe Randy can meet you at the hospital with booze and crutches.
Caffrey takes a deep breath.
Caffrey: And the other guy… ah, Seth. This was supposed to be such a bigger moment, the battle of Philadelphia, the Key vs. the Kingpin, a grandiose global show that would leave ‘em talking for years and years to come. I thought you were dead, Seth. You’d broken your back or some shit with Maverick. Did it haunt you for all that time that no one was happy that your last match was against that ungrateful brat? Did it haunt you that people wanted more a match against Fox, Ryan, or even me? I assume it must’ve haunted you to be such a massive disappointment, otherwise those ghosts wouldn’t have chased you back into a wrestling ring.
Caffrey: I saw that you had a great Rumble, much better than mine. Congratulations on blowing the element of surprise and being unable to get the job done. How are you going to fare back in the ring now? Is it going to be Dillinger circa two, three years ago where you got your ass kicked 90% of any given match, only to make a triumphant comeback in the final stretch? Or am I going against the obnoxious dickhead doing his best me impression?
Caffrey shakes his head.
Caffrey: You’re not even the greatest LGBTQ wrestler anymore, Seth. How’d that happen? Misha might’ve gone to some kind of multiverse, but wherever he exists, he’s better than you. Bloodied Fox had lapped you before you even broke yourself. MYOJIN may be a giant pain-in-the-ass but they have skill and precision. And MAJESTY, wherever that scary motherfucker is… well, you wouldn’t have stood a goddamn chance against them. When it comes to the best Phillly guy, you’re second best and we both know that, but for a man who made his legacy on a rainbow flag, you’re not even second best anymore.
Caffrey reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys. Strangely, he begins carving into the portrait. We see a wild look in the former X-Crown champion’s eyes.
Caffrey: This is how it ends; I’m running out of time and I’m dealing with an idiot and a ghostbuster while watching my garden quickly erode. It’s gonna be a great summer with Diamond and all of them, I’m sorry I’m missing all these great shows that suddenly sprang up immediately after we announced we’re closing. But the truth is, I’m sad, boys. I’m sad that I can’t keep it up after I beat the shit out of both of you. I just… can’t keep up anymore. This is it. One last time, one final moment for the legacy, for the garden I’ll never get to see. I’d keep going, but even as lifeless I’ll be come next Thursday, the truth of the matter is simple…
In one swift moment of fury, Caffrey pulls at the portrait, removing whatever he was carving.
Caffrey: …my heart’s just not in it.
In another swift moment, Caffrey chucks his favorite possession as hard as he can against the wall. We can hear Caffrey sniff back some tears, but the camera is focused on the wooden frame breaking into pieces upon impact. The final visual we see one more time is the old portrait, with Caffrey on top holding a title, and a hole where his heart would have been.