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Interrogation
At one table near the back and facing the door sits Johnny Styles and his lifelong friend Detective David Inzaghi. The two men are devouring a plate of pasta each and sipping from glasses of red wine. Styles finishes chewing and looks around him as he speaks. I tell you man, this place hasn’t changed in what? Fifteen years. I love coming here when I’m in town. DI: I try to come here once a month with Carol and the kids. I want them to know all about the history of the neighborhood and where I came from. Only way they’ll take some pride in this place. It’s a good idea. I know when I’m traveling around the world and shit I might be in Japan or Europe but all I gotta do is think back to the summer of 1988 and running around out on them streets with you and the rest of the guys and I’m happy. David spikes a few more pieces of pasta with his fork and speaks between chews. DI: How’s the whole wrestling thing going anyway? I thought you retired to spend some of that money you earned in GCW? GCW. Yeah I sat on a beach for eighteen months, spent some money, fucked around, you know me. But man, I just got the itch for the competition, for going out there in front of the people and the love and respect they give you. Man it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. You can’t understand it unless you lived it. DI: I’ve seen you on TV Johnny and you put on a hell of a show, I can see you love it and if you love something man, go for it right? Fucking A brother. The two men sip from their wine glasses and eat some more before David speaks up. DI: So you said on the phone you needed to cash in a big favor. You know I’m in your debt Joey and I always will be, so tell me what you need and it’s done. Styles finishes chewing his fork full of pasta and leans closer as he lowers the tone of his voice and David leans in to hear him over the background noise of the restaurant. It’s about my son, Alex. A fella has gone to far, and I need him tracked down and arrested. He’s big, fucked in the head, so tell your boys not to go in light handed. I just need him arrested and Alex pulled out unharmed. Styles removes a briefcase from under the table and hands it to Detective Inzaghi who looks slightly confused. DI: Shit Johnny, I know Alex means the world to you, I look at the kid as if he is my nephew. I was with you and Sam when you adopted him. But I don’t know if we can get into the whole dark side of wrestling if you know what I mean It isn’t a gimmick David. He has taken out of that and has kidnapped my son. He did the same thing with Jada last week. And we he realized I didn’t give two drops of piss for her. He found Alex. David sips his wine and then opens the briefcase checking over some of the papers. DI: Ok I think we can work something. I’ll get a warrant here that way we can bring them under our jurisdiction. We’ll be careful in trying to bring back Alex to you. Ill also bring This…This…Brenton Cyrus back here myself. Anything else you need before then, just call me ok? Yeah, thanks Davie, I really owe you… DI: No you don’t John. You’ll never owe me or my family anything, you remember that. Alex is the kid I watch grow up. He means a lot to me as well. Styles stands up and tosses some money on the table. I will my friend. I will. Call me when he’s in the cells. I’ll never be more than an hour away. David stands up and the two men embrace. DI: You got it John. See you soon. Styles nods and makes his way out of the restaurant and onwards to a meeting with the man who created the monster he must soon slay. A FEW DAYS LATER. The Police cell is dimly lit and damp. In the middle of the room, secured to a metal folding chair, sits Mike Cyrus the father of Brenton Cyrus. David said they raided all three of the mansions of Brenton but there were no signs of Alex nor Brenton. But Mike Cyrus was n one of the homes. David figured we could get some information out of him. A single light bulb hangs from the ceiling casting strange shaped shadows across the wrinkled and contorted face of Mike Cyrus. A loud creaking noise brings his eyes up to the door as Styles walks into the cell. He is dressed in a Boston Red Sox T-Shirt and jeans. He looks around him and lets out a long sigh. Man, it’s been a long time since I’ve been in one of these. They don’t get much better over time do they Mike? Mike Cyrus stares a hole straight thorough Styles but doesn’t reply. Styles waits a moment and then goes to the corner of the room where a second folding chair sits. He unfolds it and sits opposite Mike Cyrus, but makes sure to keep out with biting or spitting distance. His voice is calm and level as he addresses the father of Brenton Cyrus. I know what they did to you Mike. I also sympathize with you for having a low life Disney cast off for a son. If anything its Brenton who is forcing my hand. Forcing me to step over a line I never wanted to step over. Styles removes a pack of Newports from his pocket and lights one before offering it Mike Cyrus. He turns his head away in disgust. Styles shrugs and draws on the cigarette before speaking again. You probably know why your here. It’s because of your son...and what I plan to do to him at War Games...But I’m restricted in doing so, unless I get my son back With this Mike Cyrus looks up and into Style’s eyes for the first time. He sneers and laughs slightly. My son will crush you like the piece of shit you are. If you are going to speak to me, you will address me by Mr. you will show me a little fucking respect! Styles smirks and nods his head. Alright Mr. Cyrus, I’m just glad I see I got your attention. Your boy has been making trouble for himself for a long ass time now and I’m the guy who is going to stop him. I just wanted you to know that and I wanted you to tell me where he is holding my SON, I’m going to end this at War Games, but I want to have my son taken out of this. We both know your kid doesn‘t stand a chance. If he did he wouldn‘t be pulling a dick headed move. Mike Cyrus smiles and chuckles to himself as Styles draws on the cigarette but looks unfazed by the reaction of Mike Cyrus Ha! You are weak and foolish. I know all about you Johnny, my son has told me all about how your family is your weak point, your Achilles heel if you would. I know what you are. Styles leans forward in his seat and his expression takes on a slightly more menacing look. The volume of his voice increases as he locks eyes with the deranged old man. Motherfucker you have NO IDEA who I am. I don’t hide my past and I ain’t ashamed of what I did with my life. I was a soldier and I followed a code. You and your boy, you don’t believe in anything. You fuck with people, you make crazy threats and lies and it’s gotta stop! Styles stands up out of his seat and flicks his cigarette to the side of the room. Your boy broke my nose with a punt kick, he cheated me out of a match and he’s made me look like an asshole in front of the world. And now he has my son. That big bitch has gone too far. He can fuck with me and beat me down as much as he wants, I’ll keep coming back but when he fucks with my kid the only thing that I fight for...that’s where this bullshit crosses the line! Mike Cyrus smiles as Styles is really beginning to fire up. He has taken my son who had NOTHING to do with all of this. He has threaten to kill my son. You don’t do that in this business. He’s got no respect. No respect for Me, no respect for ANY ONE IN THE BACK, and no RESPECT FOR THE OLD DOGS. Someone needs to teach that big ape about respect… And that’s going to be you is it? Styles gets closer to Mike Cyrus as the fury continues to build inside SBK Fuck yes that’s going to be me. You see Mr. Cyrus, I’m not like you or your son. I’m not insane for a start. I know exactly what I need to do to win this match and put your son out of NLWF for good. I’m going into that ring and I’m not coming out until that big son of a bitch is lying in a pool blood and begging me for mercy. I want you to go back home and tell him that from me. Tell him that I will get my son back, and it will be his fucking head that is kicked into another time zone. This isn’t going to be a match and he’s gonna need to do more than destroy the ring, cause I’m taking this fight to him like no one ever has before and I’m ENDING this at War Games. I’m not doing it for me, I’m doing it for my son, for my family because your son is out of control and I’m the only guy with the balls to stop him. Mike Cyrus throws his head back and laughs. Ha! You think you’re a match for him? You stand there with that Piss and blood running through your veins and you think you will defeat my son? He still has YOUR SON…You can‘t even fight him you have no choice but to lye dow… Styles lunges at Mike Cyrus and grabs him by the face, pushing backwards off his seat which tips over and both men crash to the floor. Styles pins him to the floor with his forearm across his throat and leans in close as Mike Cyrus tries to get free. You’re son is finished. You hear me mother fucker? He’s done. This bullshit is over and I’m taking him out of NLWF. You tell him that, you hear me? You tell that piece of shit that when he steps into that ring with me, I’m going to take his fucking face off. I’m done with the games. You two are fucked in the head and now I know why. I will get my son back, and I will leave yours in a coma. You think you created a monster Mike? You think he’s unstoppable? Think again. Inside that ring, this ends and it ends on MY terms. The door to the cell swings open and some Police Officers and Detective Inzaghi rush in and haul Styles off Mike Cyrus. Inzaghi drags Styles outside into the corridor as we hear the wailing and insane ramblings of Mike Cyrus before the cell door slams shut and muffles them. Styles is breathing hard and fast and he looks like he might lash out at anyone who even looks at him wrong. David lets the rage and adrenaline subside from Johnny for a moment before speaking. DI: You ok Johnny? You get the message across? Styles smirks and exhales loudly calming himself down in the process. Oh yeah, loud and clear. Thanks for your help with this Davie, I appreciate it. DI: Hey, no problem. You wanna go grab a beer or something? Nah man, I’ve got a fight with a deranged lunatic coming up. And I still have no idea where Alex is. DI: Ah well, good luck Johnny I’ll be watching NLWF to see how it goes. It’ll go just like it should, with me beating his ass into the canvas and taking the win. See you around Davie. DI: See ya Johnny. The two men shake hands as Styles turns and makes his way towards the front desk and the exit from the Police Station. He looks confident as he signs out and then pushes the double doors open and vanishes from sight in a burst of bright sunshine. Johnny Styles has traveled many roads and soon his biggest challenge to date will be upon him. It’s time to put up or shut up. The war has raged between Brenton Cyrus and Johnny Styles and now the score will be settled once and for all at War Games. But the biggest question is, can Styles follow through even with out Alex, or will he be force to lay down. Johnny knows the mean of sacrifice and at War Games, if he has to sacrifice himself to stop Cyrus’s from hurting his son, then that’s just what he will do. 
You pushing me to far Brenton. Your forcing me over a line I have only had to cross once. A line I told myself I would never cross over again. Brenton when you kicked Jada, I had no ill will feelings. I knew you were just trying to get yourself over as some brass cocksucker. To be honest, Its something I would have done way back when. But Alex… That is a mistake your going to have to pay for. I can stand here and make all the funny one liners, I can stand here and make you look like the young dick head that you really are, but that’s what brought this ahead isn’t it. You couldn’t take a few good one liners, you couldn’t take an attack on your character. I stepped up to defend Cyber Punk because you were over stepping your place. And that action has caused you to take the one thing that matters to me and hold him hostage. And now you have forced a ultimatum. At war games, I have to lay down and allow you to walk out with a victory if I want to see Alex in one piece. I am between a rock and a hard place. But Brenton, do you honestly believe if I was to lay down at War Games that this would be over? It would be FAR FROM OVER! I will not rest until I knock you off your high horse. I will not REST until you and everything you stand for is no longer apart of NLWF. Will I lay down or Will I kick your fucking teeth in. Guess your just gonna have to find out for yourself. As for your Chuck. I saw your bitching and moaning about losing the chance to be called Tag-Team Champion. But really you lost more then a chance at being Tag champion. You lost the chance at being Champion period. Lets look at the facts here Chuck. You’ll never be Jr. Heavyweight Champion at least not while your Anal plug Brenton holds it. You’ll never be Heavyweight Champion, because you’ll be rape worse then a Prison bitch on Anal Friday. And I really don’t think you have what it takes to defeat Death Angel for the No Limit championship. And if that isn’t a insult I don’t know what is. Didn't really think that one through too carefully, did ya Chuck? It looks like all that isolation is preventing you from watching tapes. I know your short term memory sucks, you blew that out years ago smoking pot and you'll never get it back. That's why I constantly review footage, as I don't want to seem like a dumbass before I spout off in front of the camera. That's not the Chuck way though, just wing it because you THINK you are the last full measure. You're only allowed to have that mind state for two reasons: one, you run around with Brenton Cyrus and show off flagrant displays of ego. Two, you ride high on the handful of single victories you have and don't count all the tag team losses. You just put the blame on shit that you had no control over. Yea Santiago wasn’t my scheduled partner, Yea Cyber Punk was hurt, we've heard the same bullshit time and time again. Shit, and they say I'M protected by management. When are you going to accept responsibility for yourself? Will you ever Chuck? Will there always be an excuse lined up, no matter who you lose to? You belong on the West. You belong in the Legacy division as you are a sub par main eventer with this mental promotion you're going on. Just because the bookers got you lined up for my bulls eye doesn't mean you deserve it. So far you have yet to show me one truly convincing victory, the type of victory that will make me 'fear' you somewhat. I've yet to see that. You're not even close to being ready to step up. This is going to be your wake-up call, Chuck. This is going to be the match where, ten years down the road, you’re jobbing to NC-17 and you’re going to wonder who the hell caused you to do this. You’re going to wonder who the hell gave you that limp in your step. You’re going to be wondering who the hell caused your eye to become swollen shut for life. You’re going to wonder why you’re paying a chiropractor to straighten your back out each week. You’ll think back and you will remember this match. You will remember the day that SBK whooped your ass from pillar to post without even dropping a bead of sweat. Believe that. But, knowing all the young pups, you’ll be putting up a fight. You said yourself that you’re not going down without a fight. Good, Booth, put up a fight. Give me your hardest effort possible. It’s going to look like a baby trying to fight a gorilla when the time comes. You’re going to flail your arms around looking for a chance to hit me. When you do hit me, it’s not going to do any damage and I’ll succeed in breaking your neck with the swing of my arm. Then I’ll just walk away, leaving your broken body for someone to sweep up and throw in a dumpster. That is your fate, good sir. You’ll deny it and say that isn’t what is going to happen, but in reality it is. Run your mouth about respect and how I’m this, that, and the other. I’ve heard it before. I’ve heard it a million times from punks like you. Punks trying to take me out of the picture so it’s easy for them to reach the top. Punks saying they respect me one minute and hate me the next. I do not hate on you for being a fan of mine, Chuck, good on ya. I’m saying that after this match you’ll hate my guts just like everyone else in the NLWF locker room. That’s a proven fact. I don’t have friends. Just a long ass list of enemies. I’ll be leaving this match shaking my head wondering how someone could try and stop me on the path to War Games and your head will involuntarily move from left to right after I separate your neck from spine courtesy of a very royal End Result. You’ve been warned, Chuck. Don’t step on my soil or I will snap you in two like a twig. -- [ FIN ] -- |