Post by Johnny Rebel on Apr 3, 2013 21:51:19 GMT -4
Rebel Rousing #12: "The Long Road Back"
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“What do you mean that’s all I have left? Surely, there is some sort of mistake. You must not know who I am.”
Johnny Rebel stood before the innocent bank teller, undeserving of the verbal abuse that he was taking from the disheveled former general manager of Overdrive.
“Hold on a second, Mr. Rebel…” the frightened teenager said spinning around in his chair. “Let me go find someone who might be able to explain what's going on."
Times had been tough for the former Overdrive champion. It was a year ago that he had worked his way in to the main event of one of the most anticipated RassleMania matches in recent memory. He had been chasing the APW Undisputed Championship and was finally within an arm’s reach of winning the prestigious belt. He had to overcome three roadblocks, two of which had become bitter enemies - Kurt Noble and C.J. Gates.
Fast forward to today, and Rebel was now the low man on the totem pole. There wasn't a spot carved out for him in the main event, and he'd be resigned to a spot in the middle of the Overdrive card, where he’d been responsible for doing the majority of the booking over the past several months.
“Please follow me," the young man waved Rebel towards him.
Things were starting to get a little uncomfortable when suddenly a host of armed guards made themselves visible as Rebel walked towards the back. Rebel wasn't the assuming type that would usually draw the attention of the law. Sure, he'd been in plenty of fistfights before and certainly caused his fair share of trouble but Rebel wasn't interested in making a scene. He simply wanted to withdrawal what was left of his APW earnings and go about his business.
"Please remove your sunglasses, Mr. Rebel," the booming voice of a burly security guard rang out. "We don't want any trouble here today, son."
"What's going on?" Rebel cried out. "There isn't any reason for all of this commotion. I'll sign whatever you need me to sign but my cruise for Italy leaves in a few minutes...I don't have time to play patty-cake with you fools!"
Rebel's blunt response didn't ease the fears of the security task force that had been called in for reinforcement. A gentleman sputtered in after a few moments of silence, wearing a mismatched brown suit jacket with black pants. He pulled up a chair across the table from Rebel and nodded towards the guards, giving them the go-ahead to step outside of the room.
"Johnny," the gentlemen leaned back and kicked his feet up on the corner desk. "My name is agent Williams and I've been told that we have a little bit of an issue here regarding your bank account."
Rebel scratches side of his head and lowers his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose, which he immediately regrets, as the glare of the sun nearly blinds him, and invokes a splitting headache. A simple reminder of the many, many alcoholic beverages he consumed the night before.
Truthfully, he had hit rock bottom. The only thing that he had going for him was the minuscule paycheck that he was collecting as general manager of Overdrive. It wasn't much but it provided the bare necessities that Rebel needed to survive. He spent the majority of his evenings drowning his sorrows in whatever hole-in-the-wall hotel he could afford before passing out in a pool of his own vomit.
It wasn't a glamorous lifestyle but it was all that Rebel had left.
"Trouble? What kind of trouble?" Rebel tried desperately to draw up any remembrances in connection with his bank account, the last he knew he was still collecting severance from President Jeff. "Are you sure we can't just draw up a checking withdrawal slip and let me hit the road? There is a whole mini-bar waiting with my name on it...and it isn't going to drink itself!"
"I'm afraid that it's a little more complicated than that. Would you mind telling me what happened last night?"
"Last night?" Rebel quickly repeated. "I... I don't remember."
That was the unfortunate side effect of Rebel's relentless and never-ending pity parties. He didn't mind drowning his sorrows alone but as he became more intoxicated, the legend began to grow. He wasn't one to hold his liquor well and those at the bar were well aware of that fact. They'd routinely cut him off when he'd reach a certain point and it wasn't long before they'd send him packing with a swift kick in the rear out of the door. It was a shame that the career of the once promising megastar come to an end in this fashion. He’d truly done everything there was to do in the APW and for his health; it would probably benefit him to throw in the towel.
It wasn’t uncommon for him to completely forget about the events during the previous evening.
"I had a feeling that's what you'd say," Agent Williams responded. "Let me show you a little reminder video that the cameras caught here at the bank."
Another agent wheeled in a TV on a cart behind Rebel, who whipped his head around to see the hazy feed centered on an ATM next to the bank building. When suddenly, a drunken Rebel stooped in to the image, inserting his bankcard in to the machine, and taking a handful of money, shoving the wad of bills in to his pocket. He continued this process a few times, with each handful becoming larger with every transaction. Eventually, he came up empty, draining his bank account.
“So what?” Rebel threw his hands up in protest. “I forgot how much money was in my account? Big deal.”
“I’d love to tell you that this was the end of the video,” the agent said. “It gets worse… MUCH worse.”
“Bolgona,” Rebel argued. “You can’t prove that was me in that video! That could have been any old hobo stumbling through the street looking for a little bit of cash. That’s what is wrong with all you suit types! You think that you can throw accusations on anybody because you have some scrambled video! That badge doesn’t give you the right to pick on people who down on their luck!”
“Mr. Rebel…” the agent tried to interject but “Simply Put” wasn’t having any of it.
“No! You sit up there on your high horse and wave you magic wand towards your cronies for them to do your dirty work! Meanwhile, the rest of us have to dance around on pins whenever one of you fat freaks come waltzing towards us with the remains of a jelly donut on the side of your mouth! It’s absolutely astounding how all of you continue to get away with murder and can point the finger elsewhere without even thinking twice… innocent until proven guilty my left testicle!”
“Are you finished yet?” asked Williams.
“I could continue if you’d like,” Rebel quipped sarcastically. “But I’m sure you’ve got everything you need already to throw me behind bars. How much money is it going to take to get you to destroy the tape that’s surely sealing my fate?”
“First of all, we’re not recording this,” Williams answered back. “Secondly, judging by the rest of this video, I’m not sure you’d have enough money to pay me off, even if I’d take it! Watch the rest of this video.”
Agent Williams raises the remote control high in the air and hits the play button as the scene resumes. A visibly frustrated Rebel begins to shake the machine uncontrollable, before stepping back, getting a running start, and kicking the machine with a big boot, sending it rocking back and forth.
A passerby on the street tries to squeeze his way past the out-of-control Rebel, as Johnny screams out to him, “WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?” as the man dips off the sidewalk and speeds up to bypass the scene.
“Nice touch,” Williams rolls his eyes at Rebel, who buries his forehead in his hands, obviously embarrassed at his actions. “Don’t stop now, you’re not going to want to miss this…”
Rebel slowly turns his gaze back to the screen, where he finds himself on camera, preparing to flip the ATM over completely on its side. He groans audibly at the film, as Williams’ has a smirk from ear-to-ear, as Johnny silently tugs at his pants pocket silently wishing he could reach through the screen and stop what was about to happen.
On screen, Johnny takes a few steps backwards, and charges forward with his shoulder down, tackling the machine, finishing the task of tipping it up on its edge. However, it doesn’t have the desired effect, and Rebel’s unable to get the machine open to retrieve the money. He steps up on top of it, and begins jumping up and down repeatedly; with the money he withdrew earlier flying out of his pockets at a rapid pace. After a several failed attempts of prying the door open with his hands, a team of armed police officers tackle him down on the ground and handcuff him with his arms tied behind his back.
“Coming back to you yet?” asked the agent.
“A little,” Rebel said rubbing a red mark around his right wrist. “I don’t remember wrestling an ATM machine, though.”
“You did a number on that machine,” Williams said. “You came close to accomplishing your goal… if you had about fifteen more minutes, you might have had it opened. Thankfully, we had some officers in the area, and they responded quickly.”
“I see that,” Rebel snapped. “Another set of useless government employees wasting time and shoving their pieholes with Dunkin’ Donuts! It’s amazing that they were able to uncork themselves out of their police cars long enough to do something worthwhile.”
“Regardless, there is a nice bill with your name on it for that machine. You’d think they’d be able to fix a few dents but they want the whole thing replaced. I hope you saved a few of those bills from last night because you’re going to need them!”
“Let’s quit the façade,” Rebel answered back. “I’m not as dumb as I look. You and I both know that I don’t have the money to pay for anything, and I know that you’ve probably got your ears to the ground and know exactly what I’m making with APW. I was lucky enough to get a contract with a few dates on it…”
“You’d be correct,” Williams said. “I do know your situation and I know what you’re up against. I usually wouldn’t bet against C.J. Gates but seeing you in your condition, I think I’d double down this week.”
“Then what do you want with me?” Rebel asked. “I’m useless… I’ll pick up a few matches, do what I need to get a few extra dollars in the bank, and move on to the next stop. Gates is nothing more than another date on the calendar.”
“I’ve done a little research and found out your history with C.J, and I’m willing to bet that deep-down inside, that competitive fire is still burning, even if the only thing left are a few little coals,” Williams said. “I’m willing to bet that there is a little animosity still floating around between the two of you. Maybe even a little jealousy…”
“Jealousy!” Rebel laughed. “The only thing I’m jealous about is the fact he isn’t sitting across the table from you right now.”
“You can’t fool me,” Williams asserted. “A year ago, you were right up there with the likes of Gates. The names Gates, Noble and Rebel were all synonymous with one another… and now C.J. is the only one that remains. He’s still in the limelight and a major player in the championship scene, still the highlight of the biggest event of the year! Not to mention the fact that daddy is footing the bill for most of his excursions. He’ll never have to know what it’s like to scratch and claw his away for a McDonald’s McMuffin! That’s a pretty low feeling, isn’t it?”
“Go ahead,” Rebel prodded. “Kick a man while he’s down.”
“You’d be hard-pressed these days to even find anybody in that APW locker room that would even remember what it was like to see Johnny Rebel in the ring!” Williams prompted, as his intensity began to pick up. “It’s been so long, I’m not sure you could even find any tape!”
“Don’t you understand that this type of stuff doesn’t phase me any more?” Rebel waved him off. “It might have bothered me a few years ago but I told you earlier, I’m not interested in the accolades any longer. I’ve apparently got a few bills that I need to pay off that I wasn’t expecting. I guess I should have factored in a few drunken nights of damage in to my contract negotiations! Let’s wrap this up, I’ve got a forty ounce with my name written on it…”
Williams leans back in his chair for a moment before reaching in to his front pocket, pulling out a business card, and sliding it across the table to Rebel.
“What’s this?” Rebel asks. “If it’s some hocus-pocus recovery program, I’m not interested.”
“You could say it’s something like that,” Williams snickered. “Believe it or not, there is a group of people that still believe in you. There was a host of folks that were willing to put all they had left in to a fund that propelled you to the front of the Extreme Tournament this Summer, and you failed them miserably! Those people want a return on their investment. The Brand was a hot-ticket last Summer and they believe that you have something to offer… even if they have to squeeze every last ounce of production out of you. They’ll get their money back and then throw you in a ditch somewhere.”
“It wouldn’t make much of a difference, that’s probably where I’m headed tonight! I heard they are wonderfully warm this time of year…”
“There’s an address on that card,” Williams said. “Someone thought that you’d be a little more prepared with a warm roof over your head and a little bit of food to get you through the weekend. You win a few matches, get a little momentum and perhaps the gifts will keep on coming. Who knows? Maybe your luck isn’t so bad as you thought.”
“Perhaps not,” Rebel said.
“Do us all a favor and lay off the bottle?” Williams asked. “I can only cover up so many of these incidents.”
“Not likely,” Rebel smiled before picking up the business card and sliding it in to his pocket. “You’d have a better chance finding money in my bank account for that ATM machine!”
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“Do you know what happens when you put an animal that has always run free in to a cage and lock the door?”
“Terrible things.”
“The thing is – I’ve been backed in to a corner. I don’t have anywhere else to go. It’s either win, or else. That poses a problem that I don’t know if C.J. Gates is prepared to handle… or something that he’s ever had to even think about! When Gates comes down to the ring on Thursday evening, it’s just another match for him. Win or lose, at the end of the day, nothing changes for Gates. He’ll go on spending money from Daddy’s trust fund that’s been handed down to him for years.”
“He doesn’t know what it means to struggle… lucky for him, I’m a pretty good teacher.”
“One day they’ll look back on the annuals of APW and realize how much of a colossal failure the C.J. Gates era was. They’ll file those records next to such great novels like Harry Potter, the Game of Thrones, and the Hunger Games… because it’s about as useful as fiction. They’ll tell stories of your pseudo championship runs that lost the organization millions of dollars and led to the hiring of Johnny Rebel as general manager to try and turn this ship around. Now ironically enough, with me out of the picture in the front office, I’m the one they turn to try and dig themselves out of this hole they’ve dug themselves in.”
“I can see the conversation now.”
“What are we supposed to do? We put all our eggs in the C.J. Gates basket and he let us down! He’s the one responsible for allowing the Undisputed Championship to walk from Overdrive and go to Asylum. He’s the one that caved under the pressure of the RassleMania bright lights. Who’s going to save us? Who can put an end to Gates’ run at the top?”
“The answer was easy.”
“Johnny Rebel.”
“It’s no secret that I’ve been hard-up lately, and life has been a little challenging for me. I was digging through the local good-will, trying to find your grandad’s clothes, and looking incredible, if I do say so myself. I finally found the thing that I’ve been searching for since stepping foot in the APW – something in which I could compare to C.J. Gates… the most useless item in the history of time…”
“The snow globe!”
“Is there anything more annoying than a snow globe? You can’t figure out what to do with and after about fifteen minutes, it’s as stale as stale could be! It’s not any fun, it doesn’t do anything special, and it takes valuable space on the mantle.”
“It’s boring. It’s the same image over and over again for all eternity. It never changes! The only thing that is different is that occasionally, you can pick it up, turn it upside down, and shake it to make the snow kick up for all of thirty seconds before you’re back to square one again and you’ve officially used up all its entertainment value! It goes back on your shelf and you probably won’t touch it again until the next pathetic season where you need to spread some holiday cheer!”
“The same has been true of your career here in the APW. It’s stagnant, boring, and people are starting to take notice. You’re the same ole’ C.J. Gates spewing the same nonsense that you have been shouting since the minute the ink on your APW contract dried. You think that you’re better then the rest of the world because you aren’t willing to cross the lines between good and evil. You cling to remaining pure in the eyes of those nose-pickers that root you on at ringside each and every week. You think you’re better than everyone else because daddy dug a few holes in the backyard to bury his jar of Vietnamese quarters that he thought were worth billions, and accidently found a cesspool of black gold.”
“You aren’t better than me, C.J! And it’s about time that I proved it!”
“It’s about time that I take your career and flip it upside down. It’s about time that we mix things up and make you relevant once again… if only for a few moments before the dust settles and you’re back to the same robotic routine, giving your canned speeches and predictable sucking up to those mouth-breathers that claim to be your fans! You’ll serve your purpose of making things look cheery, and give this week’s Overdrive the additional oompf it needs to sell a few tickets that will eventually pad my pockets. However, when I’m done watching what’s left of you kick up around inside that arena, I’m going to pack you away and send you to the glue factory where they’ll finally put you, and all the rest of us that have been forced to put up with you, out of your misery!”
“I was left for dead a few weeks ago. Everything that I had worked so hard to achieve had been ripped out from underneath me, and I was left on my rear with nothing but a minimum-wage contract from the APW. However, seeing my name up against yours has given me a new lease on life. There are people that won’t let me lose. They won’t let me fail, again, to someone as useless as you.”
“This means everything to me.”
“When the curtains come up, and the lights kick on, and the question is posed – am I going to go big or go home?”
“You better believe, I’m not just going big… but I’m going to loom as large as a challenger as you’ve *ever* seen!”
#SIMPLY
#F’N
#PUT!
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