Post Tag Team Titles Victory
Freddie Styles and Duce Jones are seen walking backstage, along with the two masked men, the CWF tag titles displayed proudly on their shoulders as the four men converse between each other about the Aces victory. Suddenly they are all approached by a incoming Tara Robinson who has a microphone in hand and is looking for answers..
Tara Robinson: Freddie! Duce! I think the people want to know, what are your relationship with these two men? Are these the same men we've been seeing appear during matches with members of the Forsaken? Have you two turned over a new leaf?
The Aces stand there, their shining new belts gleaming on their shoulders, both smiling at Tara.
Freddie Styles: Tara.. The only thing anyone needs to know, is that we said we we're getting our tag straps back, and that's exactly what happened.
Freddie walks off followed by the two gentlemen, leaving Tara standing there with Duce. He stands there eyeing her up and down as a look of curiosity still compels her face.
Tara Robinson: Duce, you care to say anything?
Duce Jones: Let's just say, shit’s bout t'get interesting..
Winking at the dumbfounded interviewer, Duce leaves Tara standing there, catching up to his tag partner and the mystery men.
I would be lying if I said I was a saint. I'm not though, I've had my fair share of bad decisions in my lifetime, and I'm just twenty two. So, if you ask me, I've got plenty more years to make stupid decisions to tell my grandkids about. Whenever I do have any. I mean morals were always there, I know right from wrong. Sometimes though, you have to do things, just for the fuck of it. It wouldn't be life if you didn't right. See a lot of people know that I left this country to go train, but the masses don't know why..
But I'll let you in on a minor secret about being a kid and living life… After my mother passed, and I moved in with my Pops. I had the tendency to act out a little, fight here, joyride there. Somehow that all transitioned into trafficking drugs.
I really didn't have to do it, Pops gave me everything I needed, within his means that is, but I never had a want nor need for anything. Besides with the folks I hung out with at that time, it was hard not to get caught up in the lifestyle. Also if you never lived in Memphis, it probably would be hard for you to understand. I'm going to try and make you understand it though.
Memphis, Tennessee, “Home of Elvis Presley, and Blues”, one of the birthplaces of rasslin’, but also a place that at one point was declared Murder Capitol of the country. Chicago soon came to take it's rightful throne. Suffice it to say, that the city had a rep so bad that they no longer allowed, First 48, to record or produce shows there. Said it painted a bad image of Memphis. When you're raised there though, the death is really an afterthought. Another thing Memphis may be known for is drugs. Which, by the way is where I dabbled my hands in more times than I could count. Then something happened that semi changed my life forever. I'll tell you about it.
I brought the gray ‘76 Chevy SS Impala to a halt, as I pulled up to my destination. Shifting the gear into park, I remove the keys from the ignition and exit the vehicle that was giving to me as a birthday gift from Pops. By no means was it in tip top shape but it always gotten me from point A to point B.
Droplets of rain my from the night sky fall as I pull my hood over my head to keep from getting damp. Walking towards what looks to a house, I pull my a cell phone from my pocket, finding the number I want and pressing the call button, then putting the phone to my ear.
“Yea.. I'm walkin’ up right now mane..” I state to the person on the other end, crossing the grass as I walk up to the front door.
Knocking on the front door, I stand there anxiously waiting for someone to answer. Someone finally does, one of my homeboys Rico, greeting me by shaking my hand as I enter the house.
“Wussup mane, what y’been on?” I said, closing the front door behind me and locking it.
“Mane shit! Been into it wit dis maggot ass hoe..” He replied back upset.
“Aww shit, I don't wanna hear nothin’ bout no bitches tonight.. Sup bruh?” I said walking past him and making my way towards Big Nuke, another one of my high school friends. “What’s da bizness, what ya smokin’ on?”
“Strong..” He replied back, handed me a half smoked blunt.
Big Nuke heads for the kitchen, as I begin to take my hoodie off, preparing to have a seat on the nearby couch. Sitting on the arm of the couch is another one of my school buddies, Kobe, who shakes my hand, while I used the other to take a hit off the blunt.
“Say Kobe, what's poppin’, ain't nobody been ova here t'day?” I questioned shaking his hand as he rises up.
“Mane a nigga been waiting on you all day mane.. Lil buddy pulled up wit da money bout fo’ hours ago.” He said retrieving a small backpack from the side of the couch. “I got it right here though..”
“Bet.. Gone put it in da attic.” I told Kobe, finally taking a seat on the couch.
“Aight bet..” Kobe replied, making his way towards the attic.
Finally able to relax, I drag off the marijuana stick once again. “Shit!” I blurt out, exhausted from it having been a long day.
“Fuck you on nigga, you aight?” Kobe questioned as he made his way to the middle hallway, pulling a string down, which produced a ladder to the attic.
“I got too many bitches!” I exclaimed in a joking manner.
“Hehuh.. Mane flip one of dem hoes wit me Duce.” He stated, as he laughed his way up the ladder.
“What y'gon do wit da bitch?” I fired back mockingly. Shifting my attention back to Big Nuke, I ask him something. “Aye, cuz been ova here mane?”
“Mane hell yea mane, him and dat stupid ass bitch been blowin’ da spot up and shit dawg!” He replied as his phone began to ring in his pocket.
“Hell yea dawg..”
“Mane they was finna fight and shit dawg, all type of shit bruh..” He replied, finally checking his phone to see who's calling.
“Mane hold on bruh.” Big Nuke said answering the phone. “Hello. Sup bruh?” He paced back and forth as the person the other end spoke. “Y'said what? Twelve pullin’ up da street?” A nervous look begins to consume his face. “Pistol check da window..”
Pistol, the guy who's been standing by the window this whole time, peeking through the blinds and counting money, looks through the blinds again.
“SHID DAT IS TWELVE!” He shouts as everyone looks to make a daring escape from the house.
Bodies everywhere, Kobe dropping out of the attic as the rest of us head for the back door. From there we split up, everyone running in their own direction. Officers of the Memphis Police Department chasing after us.
I ran, ducking behind houses, jumping over fences. Running for my life, the sound of canines barking through the rainy night, sends my adrenaline into overdrive. Cause who the fuck wants to be bitten by a dog, especially one of those, bitches don't know how to let go.
The last thought on my mind was if they were behind me still, I honestly never looked back. But when I finally stopped I was in front of my father's house, breathing heavily, chest almost touching my back. Struggling for air, on my hands and knees, not able to open the door just yet. Though that didn't stop it from opening as there stood Pops, a look of surprise and concern plastered on his face.
“What the fuck is you doing boy?” He questioned in slight anger.
The only thing that I could respond with, was passing out on the porch.
With my portable camera in place, I stood there, my CWF Tag Team Championship resting proudly on my shoulder. I stare into the camera eyes focused. Conspicuous by its absence is the customary blunt that I'm usually smokin’, I don't mind though cause I feel at this moment, a point has to be made. Removing the tag strap from my shoulder I stare at the belt, almost in a psychotic gaze.
“I wonda have da shit set in yet..”
Placing the title back on my shoulder, a pat it with honor.
“I doubt it.
Y'see, winnin’ these straps was only da beginnin’. Da beginnin’ to what y'may ask.. Well I'll tell ya, it's da beginnin’ of da end fa da Forsaken..”
A confident chuckle escapes my body as I move closer to the camera. A hanging lightbulb sways like a pendulum from the ceiling.
“Y'all an infection, a cancer, a disease to da foundation dat is CWF.. Y’see y'all walk around like y'all own da fuckin’ place. Like y'all are da saviors dat we've been so desperately asking fo’.
But wit those thoughts placed firmly in their minds. You would probably feel like they feel.
Untouchable. Unbeatable. Undefeated.
But we all know dats furthest from da truth, right?”
I pat the belt for assurance.
“I mean Da Forsaken is a tricky subject fa me, see wit Shadow and Mia dat mutual respect was there. Wit Taxi…. It just was what it was.. Then there's Hawk…”
Spit flies from my mouth to the cracked concrete.
“Hawk, I just don't know bout ya homie..
And if my memory is right. We've only stepped in the ring twice, once as opponents, then as partnas. Freddie was there too, but you, y'made it seem like ya had a personal problem wit us.”
I shake my head from the thought.
“Y’made it seem like we pissed in y’cheerios or sumthin’. I mean I just didn't get it, but in hindsight, my question is how are ya relevant?
What makes ya think dat when da fo’ of us step in dat ring, dat y'all are walkin’ out wit da victory?
Have y’checked da resume?
Do y’not know da credentials?
Do y’not know what we're capable of?”
Another laugh bellows from me.
“I don't thank y’do. I know why though, cause y'see us, as bein beneath ya. But my thang is, how is dat when da last big win y’got is ova Autumn Raven..
And it took ya twenty one minutes t'do dat. Then there's what victory over Taxi, then Shadow, then Taxi again.
What Da Forsaken call friendly competition amongst mates.. I call coddlin’ of da Impact Championship. A title dat once had prestige, but is nothin’ mo than a hot potato, bein bounced round amongst dem, like there's no real competition round here.
Talk bout keepin’ it in the family.
Big Hawk I'm gonna keep it one hunnit wit cha. If da two of us stepped in dat ring one on one.. Man to man.. I’d prolly steal dat Impact title away from ya too. I mean just t'be real Hawk, y’can't fuck wit a picture of me on my worst day.”
Taking a few steps back, a move my dreads and produce a blunt from behind my ear. After lighting it, I take a deep drag, looking at the ducestick, then back at the portable camera.
“Now dat I got dat off my chest.. Hi frand!”
I wave vigorously at the camera.
“Sup bruh! How's thangs been hangin’ since y’ been Commish? Small fun fact, I thank it was me, who gave ya da nickname Taxi. Well maybe it was Byson, maybe it was sum otha dick head, but right now. It's me, who's gonna take da credit fa coinin da nickname. But buddy, pal, frand…”
Another drag of the blunt sends a calming feeling throughout my body.
“I mean we are frands right? Truth be told, a lot of folks would say you da one t'keep an eye out fa. But I've face ya befo and I don't see what's so scary. Maybe ya just a shell of ya former self. Da Taxi dat folks knew and feared. Unpredictable, unorthodox, uncanny as well, there's no one in dis company like ya. I truly revel in the thought of just standing across the ring from ya. Dis time though, it ain't bout no friendly competition. Da way I see it, you guilty by association. Fo a while now da fans have had dem shoved down their fuckin’ throats. Y'can't go one Evolution witout these parasites invadin’ y'screens every Tuesday night.
Cough. Cough. Cough. I'm finally able to compose myself.
“I know for a fact, dat these folks are sick t'death of seeing all your ugly mugs on television.
And the Aces..
We are gonna be da downfall of Da Forsaken. One by one they're gonna fall, and I don't know bout Freddie, but I'm gonna have sum damn good fun doing. So bring ya burlap sacks, ya bottles, druids, multiple personalities, and ya skillets!
None of it’s gonna mean shit when da Aces smoke y’all asses!
So wit dat being said, keep in mind dat dis ass whoopin’ ain't shit personal.. It's only bizness.”
Taking another pull I walk towards the camera, to turn it off, not before picking it up and pointing out straight towards my face.
“Oh yea, Hawk befo I forget, tell lil Chloe, sweet, sweet lil Chloe.. Ringside is real dangerous f’kids like her. Ya never know what type of bad guys are lurking in the darkness…”
With a wink to the camera, I turn it off the scene fading to black.
Duce stood there with his lawyer, Yolanda as they awaited the judgment from Judge Michael Bolden. Everyone in attendance waiting as well, as the case was an intriguing one.
Judge Bolden: Mister Jones, I don't know what your back story is besides the fact that you're a professional wrestler. Whether you know it or not, you're an influence to children from all walks of life. Do you understand that son?
Duce Jones: Yes sir, your honor..
Judge Bolden: Now I've sat here and listen to your testimony, and I think it's a shame that neither officer was here to tell their side of the story. But suffice it to say, the decision is not up to me, so ladies and gentlemen of the jury have you reached a verdict?
A skinny blonde haired, glasses wearing kid, barely older than twenty one stood up as the speaker for his peers.
Man: Yes, your honor.. We the jury, find the defendant… Allen Jones, II..
A hush falls over the Boston Municipal Court as he finally read off the verdict.
Man: Not guilty..
A collective sigh rings out, as a weight is visibly seen lifting from Duce’s shoulders. Hugging Yolanda, congratulating her on her victory at the stand today.
Judge Bolden: Mister Jones, you are free to go, but like I told you before, stay out of trouble.
Duce Jones: You don't have to worry about me, you won't even hear my name outside of a wrestling event ever again.
Judge Bolden: Keep it that way, court dismissed!
With a bang of his gavel, court comes to an end as all the occupants of the courtroom begin to file out. Finally able to exit through the sea of humanity, Duce catches up to his father, who's standing next to a wall waiting for him. Duce walks up to him giving him a hug, the two holding a brief conversation.
Duce Jones: I can't believe dem muthafuckas was tryna get me.
Krayzie: Well I assure you that you won't ever hear shit else about this situation.
Duce Jones: Y'sho Pops?
Krayzie: Trust me boy, it's handled.. Now drop the shit…
With that the two release from their embrace, now standing apart from each other.
Krayzie: Anyway, I need you to come by the school, I have to talk to you about something big.
Duce Jones: Sumthin big?
Krayzie: That's what I said, ain't it?
Duce Jones: Fa sho Pops, I'll meet ya..
The two share one more embrace as Yolanda soon approaches to hug Duce as well, the all share in an embrace, as they soon had for the exit of the building.