Post by Admin on Jul 17, 2023 4:39:48 GMT
Somewhere Outside Houston
Texas, USA
July 8th, 2023
John looks out the front windshield of the tri-axle black Kenworth T600 Short-Box truck at the night sky, admiring the stars in the Texas sky as he double-clutches the truck down a gear, the truck bouncing up and down on the rough terrain, hitting a cactus. It explodes from the impact when it hits the front fender, and comes to a stop pulling the Eaton Fuller transmission out of gear, pulling the yellow air brake button out on the dash. Spike looks over at him, wide eyed.
“Jesus, Johnny. That was a crazy ride.”
John smirks at his best friend and the president of his Dallas Charter of the BOM MC.
“Let’s see if Dino is ready to talk now.”
The men get out of the cab of the truck, their snakeskin cowboy boots hitting the dirt on their exit. The sound of stripped down Harleys fill the air as the Houston charter of their sister club, Femme Fatales MC, roll up with their headlights pointed at the rolltop trailer door. No one is around for miles and miles as Spike pushes open the trailer door. One of the former prospects of Spike’s charter, Todd “Dino” Jones, looks rather beat up, hands tied behind his back and ankles tied together. He looks to be floating somewhere between conscious and unconscious as the women bikers draw their weapons ranging from sawed off shotguns to AR-15s and old decommissioned AK-47s, pointing them at Dino. John pulls himself up into the box, grabs Dino by the back of his collar and tosses him down in the dirt. He lights a Marlboro Red, the favourite cigarette of the Strader clan, as Spike slaps the man awake.
“Hey, dickbag, wake up.”
The former prospect stirs, and the fear drains the colour from his face as John squats down, moving some hair from his face, his signature smile is unnerving to Dino, as the punk looking Femme Fatales stand behind John, weapons pointed at the man. John shakes his head.
“Ya know, Dino, it is a real fucking shame you turned out to be a goddamn stool pigeon.”
“Prez, I am not a ra - -”
WHACK!
John shakes out his left hand from the impact of the smack that splits open Dino’s brow, blood dripping down into his right eye, blinding his vision.
“Dino, we know it’s you. Did you really think one of our longest Bombette’s was really interested in you?”
A bombette was the name the Brothers of Mayhem called their women hangarounds, commonly known as a sweetbutt, there to comfort the members of the MC, and their associates, but only if they were willing. John was an outlaw, a one-percenter, but the Brothers weren’t the stereotypical group of outlaw bikers. They weren’t racist or prejudiced; Z-Lyn, the president of Washington state charter out of Seattle is a Japanese man, Spike is of South America descent and J-Rod, President of their Ontario, Canada nomads is African American.
“We know you are talking to the feds, Dino. We just need to know which federal agency it is. Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms? Drug Enforcement Agency? Federal Bureau of Investigation? All the above?”
Dino is defiantly quiet, trying to avoid eye contact with the International President. John puts his right hand in the air, and motions to Dino with his index and middle fingers.
“Cindy-Lou.”
“My goodman pleasure.”
A short, yet feisty looking woman with a Skrillex haircut steps forward, AK-47 in her hands, and slams the butt end of the automatic rifle into the side of Dino’s throat. The rat chokes for air but stays quiet as John stands up, shaking his head. He looks over to Spike and to Marie Antoinette, the Femme Fatale Folsom’s Charter President, shaking their heads, annoyed as John is.
“S&M?”
He nods.
“Let’s get kinky,” John said with a chuckle. He wasn’t necessarily an evil man, but when it was club business, or protecting his last remaining sister and nieces, he wouldn’t hesitate to do what needs to be done. He got that from his father, Scott Nash Strader, and his late big sister, Meghan Kelser-Strader.
20 Minutes later…
Still out in the Texas desert, Dino finds him hanging upside down from a single seven-foot post, looking around frantically. John and Spike stand off to the side, sharing a joint, as the six Femme Fatales on their sportsters and choppers, revving their engines, pulling the whips off that are attached to their handlebars. John nods at them and they take off, each whipping the hanging rat across the stomach and he whines out in pain, loudly. The Femmes turn around, whipping him from the backside on the way back through. Spike looks at John, taking the joint.
“How many rounds before he caves?”
“You know I’m not a gambler,” John said with another laugh. “But it won’t take long. Those women whip hard.”
“Speakin’ from experience, bruh?”
John scoffs as Dino starts to yell bloody murder..
“OK! OK! I’ll tell you! Just stop! PLEASE! STOP!”
“Told ya.” John takes one last drag off the joint, handing the joint back to Spike as he walks toward Dino.
“That you did.”
Marie Antoinette, Cindy-Lou, and Spike fall behind John as the other biker women sit on their idling bikes, hoping for more. John gives the battered Dino a tap on the cheek but instead of his signature the rat gets the Strader sneer, and it’s even more frightening than his niece, Veronica Cain.
“Spit it out, Dino.”
Dino takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. He opens his left slowly; the blood caused his right eye to swell shut.
“A joint task force with the DEA and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. There’s another rat in your Nomad charter in Ontario. I don’t know who, I swear.”
John nods.
“I believe you. Marie, get Allyson to call me. Spike, you know what to do.”
“I’ll call Señor Asesino Dios. Orale.”
“I’m gonna drop the Kenworth back to the yard and head to the Estate. Let me know when it’s done.”
Marie and Spike nod as John fades into the darkness. The light of his zippo lights his cigarette, and the ember is the only sign of him in the distance.
Tamika’s Whitehouse Strader-Estate
Houston, Texas
July 10th, 2023
John wakes up suddenly, a dream he can’t remember is the culprit. He sits up out of the king size bed, looking at Alexandra Calaway sleeping away, a light snore she denied having, but it didn’t bother him. In fact, it was oddly comforting. He pulls on a pair of grey sweatpants and a man’s Cowgirls From Hell shirt he got when his sisters won their first tag team championships in 2011 in Dublin, Ireland for the Pioneer Wrestling Association, a property Tamika now owns. He walks the hall of the large two storey his father had built after Hannah Strader’s house (first on the estate), John’s grandmother. He had memories of being a teenager when the house was being built. There was a lot of history under the roof of the “Whitehouse” that he remembered fondly and sadly at the same time. John is slightly startled as he walks into the kitchen to see his niece, Victoria Strader, sitting at the table playing Evony, a mobile game, and smiles widely when she sees her uncle. The two were close; they had bonded while working for the now defunct piece of shit company, Project: Honor.
“Uncz! I didn’t know you were here!” She stands and walks over to John, hugging him tightly, and he returns the hug, kissing her on the top of the head, embracing her head tightly with his right hand like he always did with his nieces. “It’s good to see you!”
“You too, kid. Ally has been bonding with your Auntie Meeks. Ashlynn and Kenzie are here, too. I know they would love to see ya. Can I get you something to drink?”
She shakes her head and points to the glass bottle of Coca-Cola, the Mexican kind, made with real cane sugar.
“Shh, don’t tell Brooklyn. She says it’ll give me cavities.”
John chuckles, walking to the big “smart fridge”. He grabs a bottle of it as well. He sits down beside her and leans back while taking a swig.
“What are you doing here? I figured you would stay with Gran or Ronnie up at the Ranch.”
“I love Gran, but I can only take so many stories about Scott and Uncle Payton before they knew they were brothers, and Ronnie, well, her and her husband are still consummating their marriage,” Victoria said with a laugh and a shake of her head. “Brook likes it here better than Night City. The air is cleaner. Plus, we have the wedding to plan. It’s getting close, only seven weeks away.”
“That’s right, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Good! It was sweet of you to give Ronnie away, being how she is with our dad.”
“Yeah, I was a little hesitant, but I know your mom would want me too. You think her and Knox will ever get along?”
Victoria sighs and takes a swig of her Coke.
“I hope so. He’s not always the greatest with words, which is funny, cause he’s verbally assaulting his opponents like a philosopher would, but when it comes to talking to her, he’s scared. She’s so much like him and our cousin, Supreme Machine, that it scares him. I know he wanted to be here for the wedding….”
John gives her that “come on” look.
“Kid, I know he was here watching from the roof of this house. You snuck him in and you introduced him to the little one.”
Victoria doesn’t even seem surprised.
“I am not surprised you know that.”
“I know everything happens and everyone that comes to the Estate. It’s my job to protect the family.”
“Speaking of family, Auntie Tee said IWF management called the house… apparently you are facing dad at Sacrifice in that Heir to The Throne thing you are in. I have to say, I’m glad you are back in the ring but a bit conflicted about it,” Victoria said, closing her phone’s screen.
“Eh, your old man is a professional. I think for him, this is the first match in a long time, where this isn’t some kind of blood feud.”
“Yeah, maybe, but like my sister, he’s stupidly proud and hasn’t forgotten you got a win over him. He’s going to want to even that up.”
John chuckles and pulls his soft pack of Marlboro Reds, lighting a cigarette. He exhales a few circles before sending a straight line of exhalation through them. Victoria nods toward the pack and he slides them towards her.
“Well, I know this much: we aren’t gonna do anything to purposely hurt one another. It’s about pride and nothing else.”
Victoria takes a drag after John leans over to light her smoke.
“I know, just… I love you both, just please remember that.”
John stands up, walks over to Victoria, placing a hand on her shoulder and kisses her on top of her head.
“I know. Gonna try to get some sleep. See you in the morning, yeah?”
Victoria smiles and nods at her uncle as he walks off towards the bedroom. When he walks in, he finds Calaway sitting up in bed, nothing on but what the good lord gave her with a devilish smile on her face.
“There you are, Mister President….”
“Here I am.”
John smiles as he closes the door behind him.
Strader Family Cemetery (Estate/Compound)
Houston, Texas
July 13th, 2023
Our screens open to a shot of the Brothers of Mayhem patch as we fade into a night scene where our antihero, John Nash Strader, stands in his snakeskin boots, blue jeans, a Veronica Cain t-shirt under the kutte he loves so much with only the headlight of his 1945 Harley Panhead illuminating him and the area. He is looking down at his father’s and sister’s tombstone, looking to be lost in thought, but he is always aware of his surroundings as one doesn’t walk in the world he does by not knowing what is happening all around him. Staring at Scott’s tombstone, then his sister’s, he begins to speak. ~
“Before I learned about my daughter and found Calaway, or maybe she found me, two of the three most important people in my life were my father and my big sister. Scott, I inherited his love of motorcycles, the outlaw lifestyle and wrestling. Megz, she was beyond accepting of me and Meeks when we learned about one another. She was instantly my big sister and showed me a love that only Meeks could replicate. I have lost a lot of brothers in my world as well, but each one, just like my old man and sister, always sticks with me. They continue to guide me along in this life.”
“You understand that, Knox. I know you do. You and I are who we are because of the people that come into our lives, good and bad.”
John’s gaze moves to Meghan’s grave, and he smiles.
“I was the first person she told that Victoria (and by extension, Veronica) were your kids. She didn’t know that Victoria was going to join that garbage promotion we both fell victim to. When she saw you, it was important that I would guide Vee, because she didn’t know you yet. Megz wasn’t sure of the man you had become, and that’s why she waited as long as she did to make the revelation to you. She saw something in you, the good, and the bad, but knew the good trumped the bad. I won’t stand here and give you grief about being a father when I only learned of my kid coming up two years ago.”
John lights a cigarette from the pack retrieved from his kutte, and looks to the camera now.
“I love those girls, my big sister. Well, I would say more than you know, but I know you feel the same way, even if Veronica isn’t ready to see it. So this isn’t some grand scheme to use my nieces to hurt you, because I don’t want to hurt you, Knox. But if it comes down to between you and me, then you better believe I will do what is needed. Just like I am sure it will be the same for you.”
“You stormed back onto the scene a few months ago and you haven’t stumbled all that much. World title matches and IWF Invictus Champion, trying to get back to the top of PWV to boot. Such a busy guy. It’s amazing you have the time to compete, which is something Calaway says to me as I ride my Panhead all over the Bible-Belt recently. This time when we meet, it’s not on a gimmick'd out island or multi-man, it’s just one on one this time.”
Exhaling through his nostril, his hand breaks up the blue haze.
“We are both vying for points in this Heir to The Throne, both looking to gain that edge over the other. Eventually, we all reach our limits, Matt. Are you pushing yourself to your only friend…. The end?”
“Don’t think I don’t notice your ultimate vice isn’t a bourbon, or even women…. It’s like you secretly hope that deep down that one of these matches will finally be the one that puts you to rest? I mean, I get it, man. Me and my sisters? We watched the shit day in and day out with our old man, this sense of pride that was more important than any one thing or anyone else. As a family, we all suffer from it in some form.”
“For me, it’s my club. It i’s my legacy that I am leaving behind, for generations to come. You know that really irritating "I don't care” attitude that your daughters, my nieces, have?”
“That’s the one trait they definitely got from me.”
He leans against his father’s grave, careful not to disturb his big sister.
“So we are gonna do this dance, and I am sure there is a handsome reward if the biker can run over the Raven. I know this. How I perform can shape my in-ring career in the IWF. I mean, I go from stopping a former two time champion to taking the goddamn Raven people still seem to care about.”
Taking his last drag, he taps his old man’s grave as he stands up straight.
“Like my old man, sometimes it is about being in the right place at the right time. I am trying to be respectful here because of the girls, my sister… no matter which way it goes, the Prince usurping a win over the Mighty Raven on his quest for all the gold, health and wellbeing, or the prophetic bird makes another statement.”
“Either way, it’s gonna be one fuck of a fight, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Heir To The Throne, brother.”
He puts the butt in his hand, making sure to not leave it in a sign of disrespect as the sound of his pan head drowns out the end of the promo.
Texas, USA
July 8th, 2023
John looks out the front windshield of the tri-axle black Kenworth T600 Short-Box truck at the night sky, admiring the stars in the Texas sky as he double-clutches the truck down a gear, the truck bouncing up and down on the rough terrain, hitting a cactus. It explodes from the impact when it hits the front fender, and comes to a stop pulling the Eaton Fuller transmission out of gear, pulling the yellow air brake button out on the dash. Spike looks over at him, wide eyed.
“Jesus, Johnny. That was a crazy ride.”
John smirks at his best friend and the president of his Dallas Charter of the BOM MC.
“Let’s see if Dino is ready to talk now.”
The men get out of the cab of the truck, their snakeskin cowboy boots hitting the dirt on their exit. The sound of stripped down Harleys fill the air as the Houston charter of their sister club, Femme Fatales MC, roll up with their headlights pointed at the rolltop trailer door. No one is around for miles and miles as Spike pushes open the trailer door. One of the former prospects of Spike’s charter, Todd “Dino” Jones, looks rather beat up, hands tied behind his back and ankles tied together. He looks to be floating somewhere between conscious and unconscious as the women bikers draw their weapons ranging from sawed off shotguns to AR-15s and old decommissioned AK-47s, pointing them at Dino. John pulls himself up into the box, grabs Dino by the back of his collar and tosses him down in the dirt. He lights a Marlboro Red, the favourite cigarette of the Strader clan, as Spike slaps the man awake.
“Hey, dickbag, wake up.”
The former prospect stirs, and the fear drains the colour from his face as John squats down, moving some hair from his face, his signature smile is unnerving to Dino, as the punk looking Femme Fatales stand behind John, weapons pointed at the man. John shakes his head.
“Ya know, Dino, it is a real fucking shame you turned out to be a goddamn stool pigeon.”
“Prez, I am not a ra - -”
WHACK!
John shakes out his left hand from the impact of the smack that splits open Dino’s brow, blood dripping down into his right eye, blinding his vision.
“Dino, we know it’s you. Did you really think one of our longest Bombette’s was really interested in you?”
A bombette was the name the Brothers of Mayhem called their women hangarounds, commonly known as a sweetbutt, there to comfort the members of the MC, and their associates, but only if they were willing. John was an outlaw, a one-percenter, but the Brothers weren’t the stereotypical group of outlaw bikers. They weren’t racist or prejudiced; Z-Lyn, the president of Washington state charter out of Seattle is a Japanese man, Spike is of South America descent and J-Rod, President of their Ontario, Canada nomads is African American.
“We know you are talking to the feds, Dino. We just need to know which federal agency it is. Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms? Drug Enforcement Agency? Federal Bureau of Investigation? All the above?”
Dino is defiantly quiet, trying to avoid eye contact with the International President. John puts his right hand in the air, and motions to Dino with his index and middle fingers.
“Cindy-Lou.”
“My goodman pleasure.”
A short, yet feisty looking woman with a Skrillex haircut steps forward, AK-47 in her hands, and slams the butt end of the automatic rifle into the side of Dino’s throat. The rat chokes for air but stays quiet as John stands up, shaking his head. He looks over to Spike and to Marie Antoinette, the Femme Fatale Folsom’s Charter President, shaking their heads, annoyed as John is.
“S&M?”
He nods.
“Let’s get kinky,” John said with a chuckle. He wasn’t necessarily an evil man, but when it was club business, or protecting his last remaining sister and nieces, he wouldn’t hesitate to do what needs to be done. He got that from his father, Scott Nash Strader, and his late big sister, Meghan Kelser-Strader.
20 Minutes later…
Still out in the Texas desert, Dino finds him hanging upside down from a single seven-foot post, looking around frantically. John and Spike stand off to the side, sharing a joint, as the six Femme Fatales on their sportsters and choppers, revving their engines, pulling the whips off that are attached to their handlebars. John nods at them and they take off, each whipping the hanging rat across the stomach and he whines out in pain, loudly. The Femmes turn around, whipping him from the backside on the way back through. Spike looks at John, taking the joint.
“How many rounds before he caves?”
“You know I’m not a gambler,” John said with another laugh. “But it won’t take long. Those women whip hard.”
“Speakin’ from experience, bruh?”
John scoffs as Dino starts to yell bloody murder..
“OK! OK! I’ll tell you! Just stop! PLEASE! STOP!”
“Told ya.” John takes one last drag off the joint, handing the joint back to Spike as he walks toward Dino.
“That you did.”
Marie Antoinette, Cindy-Lou, and Spike fall behind John as the other biker women sit on their idling bikes, hoping for more. John gives the battered Dino a tap on the cheek but instead of his signature the rat gets the Strader sneer, and it’s even more frightening than his niece, Veronica Cain.
“Spit it out, Dino.”
Dino takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. He opens his left slowly; the blood caused his right eye to swell shut.
“A joint task force with the DEA and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. There’s another rat in your Nomad charter in Ontario. I don’t know who, I swear.”
John nods.
“I believe you. Marie, get Allyson to call me. Spike, you know what to do.”
“I’ll call Señor Asesino Dios. Orale.”
“I’m gonna drop the Kenworth back to the yard and head to the Estate. Let me know when it’s done.”
Marie and Spike nod as John fades into the darkness. The light of his zippo lights his cigarette, and the ember is the only sign of him in the distance.
Tamika’s Whitehouse Strader-Estate
Houston, Texas
July 10th, 2023
John wakes up suddenly, a dream he can’t remember is the culprit. He sits up out of the king size bed, looking at Alexandra Calaway sleeping away, a light snore she denied having, but it didn’t bother him. In fact, it was oddly comforting. He pulls on a pair of grey sweatpants and a man’s Cowgirls From Hell shirt he got when his sisters won their first tag team championships in 2011 in Dublin, Ireland for the Pioneer Wrestling Association, a property Tamika now owns. He walks the hall of the large two storey his father had built after Hannah Strader’s house (first on the estate), John’s grandmother. He had memories of being a teenager when the house was being built. There was a lot of history under the roof of the “Whitehouse” that he remembered fondly and sadly at the same time. John is slightly startled as he walks into the kitchen to see his niece, Victoria Strader, sitting at the table playing Evony, a mobile game, and smiles widely when she sees her uncle. The two were close; they had bonded while working for the now defunct piece of shit company, Project: Honor.
“Uncz! I didn’t know you were here!” She stands and walks over to John, hugging him tightly, and he returns the hug, kissing her on the top of the head, embracing her head tightly with his right hand like he always did with his nieces. “It’s good to see you!”
“You too, kid. Ally has been bonding with your Auntie Meeks. Ashlynn and Kenzie are here, too. I know they would love to see ya. Can I get you something to drink?”
She shakes her head and points to the glass bottle of Coca-Cola, the Mexican kind, made with real cane sugar.
“Shh, don’t tell Brooklyn. She says it’ll give me cavities.”
John chuckles, walking to the big “smart fridge”. He grabs a bottle of it as well. He sits down beside her and leans back while taking a swig.
“What are you doing here? I figured you would stay with Gran or Ronnie up at the Ranch.”
“I love Gran, but I can only take so many stories about Scott and Uncle Payton before they knew they were brothers, and Ronnie, well, her and her husband are still consummating their marriage,” Victoria said with a laugh and a shake of her head. “Brook likes it here better than Night City. The air is cleaner. Plus, we have the wedding to plan. It’s getting close, only seven weeks away.”
“That’s right, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Good! It was sweet of you to give Ronnie away, being how she is with our dad.”
“Yeah, I was a little hesitant, but I know your mom would want me too. You think her and Knox will ever get along?”
Victoria sighs and takes a swig of her Coke.
“I hope so. He’s not always the greatest with words, which is funny, cause he’s verbally assaulting his opponents like a philosopher would, but when it comes to talking to her, he’s scared. She’s so much like him and our cousin, Supreme Machine, that it scares him. I know he wanted to be here for the wedding….”
John gives her that “come on” look.
“Kid, I know he was here watching from the roof of this house. You snuck him in and you introduced him to the little one.”
Victoria doesn’t even seem surprised.
“I am not surprised you know that.”
“I know everything happens and everyone that comes to the Estate. It’s my job to protect the family.”
“Speaking of family, Auntie Tee said IWF management called the house… apparently you are facing dad at Sacrifice in that Heir to The Throne thing you are in. I have to say, I’m glad you are back in the ring but a bit conflicted about it,” Victoria said, closing her phone’s screen.
“Eh, your old man is a professional. I think for him, this is the first match in a long time, where this isn’t some kind of blood feud.”
“Yeah, maybe, but like my sister, he’s stupidly proud and hasn’t forgotten you got a win over him. He’s going to want to even that up.”
John chuckles and pulls his soft pack of Marlboro Reds, lighting a cigarette. He exhales a few circles before sending a straight line of exhalation through them. Victoria nods toward the pack and he slides them towards her.
“Well, I know this much: we aren’t gonna do anything to purposely hurt one another. It’s about pride and nothing else.”
Victoria takes a drag after John leans over to light her smoke.
“I know, just… I love you both, just please remember that.”
John stands up, walks over to Victoria, placing a hand on her shoulder and kisses her on top of her head.
“I know. Gonna try to get some sleep. See you in the morning, yeah?”
Victoria smiles and nods at her uncle as he walks off towards the bedroom. When he walks in, he finds Calaway sitting up in bed, nothing on but what the good lord gave her with a devilish smile on her face.
“There you are, Mister President….”
“Here I am.”
John smiles as he closes the door behind him.
Strader Family Cemetery (Estate/Compound)
Houston, Texas
July 13th, 2023
~ START TRANSMISSION ~
“Before I learned about my daughter and found Calaway, or maybe she found me, two of the three most important people in my life were my father and my big sister. Scott, I inherited his love of motorcycles, the outlaw lifestyle and wrestling. Megz, she was beyond accepting of me and Meeks when we learned about one another. She was instantly my big sister and showed me a love that only Meeks could replicate. I have lost a lot of brothers in my world as well, but each one, just like my old man and sister, always sticks with me. They continue to guide me along in this life.”
“You understand that, Knox. I know you do. You and I are who we are because of the people that come into our lives, good and bad.”
John’s gaze moves to Meghan’s grave, and he smiles.
“I was the first person she told that Victoria (and by extension, Veronica) were your kids. She didn’t know that Victoria was going to join that garbage promotion we both fell victim to. When she saw you, it was important that I would guide Vee, because she didn’t know you yet. Megz wasn’t sure of the man you had become, and that’s why she waited as long as she did to make the revelation to you. She saw something in you, the good, and the bad, but knew the good trumped the bad. I won’t stand here and give you grief about being a father when I only learned of my kid coming up two years ago.”
John lights a cigarette from the pack retrieved from his kutte, and looks to the camera now.
“I love those girls, my big sister. Well, I would say more than you know, but I know you feel the same way, even if Veronica isn’t ready to see it. So this isn’t some grand scheme to use my nieces to hurt you, because I don’t want to hurt you, Knox. But if it comes down to between you and me, then you better believe I will do what is needed. Just like I am sure it will be the same for you.”
“You stormed back onto the scene a few months ago and you haven’t stumbled all that much. World title matches and IWF Invictus Champion, trying to get back to the top of PWV to boot. Such a busy guy. It’s amazing you have the time to compete, which is something Calaway says to me as I ride my Panhead all over the Bible-Belt recently. This time when we meet, it’s not on a gimmick'd out island or multi-man, it’s just one on one this time.”
Exhaling through his nostril, his hand breaks up the blue haze.
“We are both vying for points in this Heir to The Throne, both looking to gain that edge over the other. Eventually, we all reach our limits, Matt. Are you pushing yourself to your only friend…. The end?”
“Don’t think I don’t notice your ultimate vice isn’t a bourbon, or even women…. It’s like you secretly hope that deep down that one of these matches will finally be the one that puts you to rest? I mean, I get it, man. Me and my sisters? We watched the shit day in and day out with our old man, this sense of pride that was more important than any one thing or anyone else. As a family, we all suffer from it in some form.”
“For me, it’s my club. It i’s my legacy that I am leaving behind, for generations to come. You know that really irritating "I don't care” attitude that your daughters, my nieces, have?”
“That’s the one trait they definitely got from me.”
He leans against his father’s grave, careful not to disturb his big sister.
“So we are gonna do this dance, and I am sure there is a handsome reward if the biker can run over the Raven. I know this. How I perform can shape my in-ring career in the IWF. I mean, I go from stopping a former two time champion to taking the goddamn Raven people still seem to care about.”
Taking his last drag, he taps his old man’s grave as he stands up straight.
“Like my old man, sometimes it is about being in the right place at the right time. I am trying to be respectful here because of the girls, my sister… no matter which way it goes, the Prince usurping a win over the Mighty Raven on his quest for all the gold, health and wellbeing, or the prophetic bird makes another statement.”
“Either way, it’s gonna be one fuck of a fight, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Heir To The Throne, brother.”
He puts the butt in his hand, making sure to not leave it in a sign of disrespect as the sound of his pan head drowns out the end of the promo.