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Post by Anarquia on Jun 12, 2020 10:37:48 GMT -5
A black room makes it impossible to see the man seated in front of the camera. The silhouette of his head and shoulders can be made out but nothing else.
Anarquia - There is something to be said about the evil that men do pero ya tu sabes! At the first episode of Evolution my primo and I were able to show the fans of this business that good does triumph over evil. Los buenos triunfan sobre los malos, por siempre! Last Evolution Los Despiadados joined together to prove that against Animabus Damnatis and we succeeded, this week it seems that The Boss has pitted good against evil once more. Where I come from, Los Angeles, we have many gang problems. White gangs, Hispanic gangs, Black gangs, multiethnic gangs, its almost our most famous export to the world…the gang lifestyle. Many of the vatos walking the streets have brought that culture and lifestyle back to Mexico, MS-13 was born here and exported to El Salvador and every other state in the country. I have walked these streets and seen the evil that men do. Mi primo, Salvaje, is from Tijuana and has witnessed even more horrors than myself. When we read my opponent for the next show we saw the name John Cavanagh. I did a little research on him, it seems he has lived the criminal lifestyle and even been punished for it. John, I’m not sure why someone as evil as you would think the world of professional wrestling is what you should turn to because in this life you have real heroes. I’m not speaking of the heroes that are fighting the current pandemic, I’m speaking of heroes like myself who will defeat the evil that they must face. You used underhanded tactics to defeat Clay Holliday at the last show, congratulations on your flawed victory. At this Evolution I will be ready for your dirty tricks and good will prevail against evil once more. It is fitting that I am a luchador enmascarado, like so many American superheroes who dawned a mask to fight the evil people I will dawn my mask and I will defeat you John Cavanagh. I will defeat you because I am good and you are evil.
Fin.
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Post by John Cavanagh on Jun 16, 2020 12:18:08 GMT -5
The sound of a trunk closing is heard. The scenery surrounding our vantage point is dark, we are somewhere less developed than our normal Hell’s Kitchen urban environment as the leaves of tree branches can be faintly seen fluttering in the nighttime sky. The large amount of stars seen in the sky tells us we are nowhere near New York City. Two men stand near their respective cars but their faces are impossible to make out due to the darkness. One man with his back facing us speaks with a thick accent from somewhere in Latin America.
Everything good?
The other man’s voice is heard with an obvious New York accent. He is facing the vantage point of the camera but his face is unidentifiable and his voice has yet to be heard.
Of course brother, just like always! I’m sure the boys will be happy.
The two men embrace and then head to their respective automobiles. Each man’s engine fires up and the red glimmer of brake lights provide a bright red hue to see the nature of the rural area we are in. Neither car turns on their headlights until they both pull off, headed in their separate directions down the road. The car that is driven by the man with the Latino accent heads away from the camera and its lights turn on. The other car—a sedan—driven by the New Yorker, drives toward the camera and we can faintly make out a New York State license plate that reds “JX9 ZU34” and when its lights turn on the camera goes blinding white before cutting away.
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The video feed reopens in an entirely different locale. We have traded our dark, outdoor, rural surroundings for a dimly lit, indoor bar. This is the Blarney Stone, to the far corner a billiards table can be seen—two dartboards decorate the opposing wall from the pool table. All across the establishment different advertisements for different alcohol can be found—mostly of the Irish variety such as Jameson, Tulamore Dew, Guinness, Killian’s, et cetera as well as different symbols of the Irish heritage that the owner of this establishment possesses. We focus on a man sitting at the bar in a black tank top with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. The man stands behind the bar as if he were a bartender with a multitude of different liquor bottles of all colors shimmering behind him—the only area that seems well lit in this dingy pub seems to be the proudly displayed variety of spirits on the wall. The man facing the camera is “The One Man Dynasty” John Cavanagh, his tattooed arms reach for a bottle of Jameson on the bar, he unscrews the cap and pours himself a shot. Before John can take his first shot he looks up to the camera.
Before I start to discuss the closest matter at hand I feel the need to fully express my feelings about some of Dennis Slater’s recent signings to this company. First and foremost I want to discuss that young punk “Classy” Christopher Charles that made mention of me playing gangster at the first EWF Evolution. I never claimed to be a gangster, my income taxes tell the true story—I’m the proprietor fo an Irish Pub here in Hell’s Kitchen and an independent contractor working for the Empire Wrestling Federation. Have I done a few questionable things in my life? Sure, who hasn’t? Have I spent a some time behind bars—yeah, and I’m not ashamed of it. But I don’t need some brash punk spreading rumors about me especially somebody who hasn’t proven shit in this industry. Kid, I’m damn near 40 years old, I’ve been doing this since I was in my 20’s…I hate to sound repetitive but like someone else said, I’ve forgotten more about this sport than you know. But, all the same—I can get behind your attitude, kid. Maybe if one day you grown enough of a brain to listen to a season vet like myself then I’ll teach you a thing or two to better situate your future.
Cavanagh looks down at his shot of Jameson he poured earlier, he picks up the shot glass and indulges in his favorite spirit. Cavanagh places the shot glass down and pours himself a second shot. John Cavanagh rubs his palms against one another and runs his right hand through his golden blonde hair before continuing.
Next I want to address another “legend”. I use my finger air quotes because lets face it, he claims to be a legend. Deathmatch Devin, you’ve apparently made a name for yourself in Japan and other Asian countries. Congratulations! You couldn’t hack it here in the good old U.S. of A, the religious fanatics in Mexico were too afraid of your gorefests and the purists of Canada considered your entire style of professional wrestling bullshit garbage! You want to call me an “asshole”, fair enough—I’ve been called worse plenty of times but if you ever mention my fiancé again I swear on the barbed wire you find so holy that I will go Deathmatch crazy on your ass and end your pathetic excuse of a career. Matter of fact, Devin, this won’t be the last you hear of John Cavanagh…matter of fact you may hear from me again a lot sooner than you may expect and I’m pretty sure you won’t enjoy it when I come calling.
Cavanagh reaches under the bar and retrieves a mini baseball bat with a few nails sticking out of it. What was once a nice souvenir from Yankee Stadium has been defaced with nails and what seem to be a few blood stains. John takes the shot glass once more and takes his second shot, this time he doesn’t bother refilling his shot glass.
Now, this little baby girl right here, we jokingly refer to her as the Irish Eliminator around these parts. Now she may not be as scary as a full size Louisville Slugger wrapped in barbed wire—but if push came to shove and John Cavanagh was forced to come down to your level and fight by your rules…let’s just say I wouldn’t have a problem getting all hardcore and extreme.
Cavanagh puts the Irish Eliminator back underneath the bar. He grabs the green bottle that shimmers to his right and pours himself a shot of Jameson. Cavanagh quickly tosses the shot back and brings his eyes back to the camera.
Now, to the matter at hand. Seems like my baby Shannon did pretty damn alright by me by finding this little home away from home. See, at the first edition of Evolution The One Man Dynasty walked down that aisle with the most beautiful woman in this industry and faced not one but two different opponents. And wouldn’t you know what the outcome was? It was the exact same outcome I told everyone would happen…John Cavanagh had his hand raised at the end of that matchup and was declared the victor. One match in the EWF, one victory for The One Man Dynasty. Now we move onto the second installment of EWF Evolution when John Cavanagh takes on the next sorry excuse for a competitor that this promotion has to offer. This one isn’t a fake cowboy out of a tourist town, no this one is a masked luchador from the City of Angels that goes by the name Anarquia. The masked man who tries to sit and hide behind the mantra of “good prevails over evil”—the man who seems to think him and his tag team partner reciting the Hail Mary in Spanish over and over again is what propelled them to victory over Animabus Damnatis at the first Evolution. It’s great to have some morals and some beliefs kid, but don’t fool yourself into thinking that because you’ve accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and savior that is the reason why you are able to win a match. I hate to break it to you and your primo over there but in the end winning contests inside of the squared circle in any promotion come down to a few things—talent, preparedness, determination and maybe just a little cunt hair of luck. I can look down that list right now and tell you that you don’t better me in any of those four categories.
Talent? Are you kidding me—the only asshole stupid enough to come out and call out John Cavanagh is that young punk from your neck of the woods, well the richer neck of the woods. You may be able to fly all around the ring and run circles around hulking, brainless morons but that type of shit won’t fly with me—no pun intended. Preparedness? My entire life I’ve been taught to prepare for the worst and hope for the best—there’s an old saying that goes something along the lines of “to be Irish is to know that one day the world will break your heart”. That’s a mantra I’ve lived by, I’ll go into Evolution preparing all the flippy, high flying, Mexican luchador action to take the breath out of me and knock me off of my feet while hoping you break your god damned leg once I move out of the way of one of your high risk moves. But in the end all that really matters in that situation is knowing what the outcome holds—you can’t beat me, even your best or for me the worst case scenario, isn’t going to be able to defeat me. You won’t be able to pin my shoulders for a three count and anyone who knows me will tell you that John Cavanagh doesn’t know when to quit. Determination? I’ve been pent up and locked up for five god damned years, I’m more determined than I’ve ever been in my career to beat the shit out of nobodies like you. The last five years it seems as if the professional wrestling industry has been growing back up a bit, seems like some of you new up and comers have…to steal a line from a great film…got fat while I starved. Earlier in my career my talent and the amount of determination I had allowed me to hold World Championships in pretty much every promotion I ever stepped foot in—with more motivation and more ring savvy it’s not a question of “if John Cavanagh wins the World Championship” its a question of “when”. Luck?
Cavanagh looks down at his right arm where his “Lucky Leprechaun” tattoo is located. An American traditional piece with vibrant colors, a skeleton leprechaun equipped with a green top hat, orange buckle, red flames shooting up from behind and a black pot with detailed pieces of gold with a labeled reading “LUCKY” sprawled in front of the black pot.
Let’s just say there’s a reason why good old Johnnie Cavanagh has been referred to as “lucky” be so many people in his lifetime. Anarquia, I’m not trying to sit out here and put you down, bad mouth the lucha libre style of wrestling, hell buddy I don’t wear a MAGA hat we can go tussle with el pendejo en la casa blanca if that’s what you wanna do—right after The One Man Dynasty pins your shoulders to the mat after a Hell’s Kitchen Drop or makes you scream and tap out in the Celtic Deathlock. Take your pick kid, school is in session this Saturday night!
Cavanagh pours another shot of Jameson and hits it back while the video feed fades to black.
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The video feed reopens to a dark colored sedan parked outside of what appears to be a project building. A man stands outside of the car, once again with his back to the camera. This man can be identified as caucasian by skin type and his partner standing next to him with darker skin may be Latino or Southern European. Their identities can not be made out as the video feed cuts off at the top of their shoulders. They are speaking with another man who hands the caucasian male a large duffel bag. At this the video feed cuts to static and ends.
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Post by Anarquia on Jun 19, 2020 12:37:55 GMT -5
A picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe hangs on a wall lit by two small candles on a mantle. Anarquia steps out from the darkness with his mask exposed by the candle light.
Anarquia - He speaks, the man who calls himself legend. The man who has high thoughts of himself. The man who has a soul filled with evil. My opponent, John Cavanagh. This man is a mad dog. And we all know the American expression about mad dogs, sometimes they have to be put down. This is my task this Saturday, to put down the mad dog John Cavanagh. To rid lucha libre of a false idol! Los Despiadados, yo y mi primo, we won against evil two weeks ago. That evil fell, the same as your evil will fall to my good John. EWF and lucha libre in general have no place for a man like you. A man who believes he is bigger than this culture and sport itself that the majority of us love. I can’t say the same for you, John, you seem to love yourself more than anything. You never shut up about yourself. You will be defeated by me, Anarquia! No sé si me escuchaste hijo de puta, pero te derrotaré en Evolution.
Fin.
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