Post by Cassius on Feb 3, 2017 17:02:15 GMT
LUCIUS REED: “What part of “never come back” did your fool ass not understand?”
The tall, imposing figure of Reverend Lucius Reed looms over the entrance to the Diner booth. Dressed all in black, save for his white of his clerical collar, he cuts a terrifying figure as he stands there. The commotion has drawn the attention of some of the other diners, but he ignores them all, his attention entirely consumed by the afroed gentleman sat before him. The man smiles slightly as he hears Lucius’ voice, pausing from taking a bite of the french fry just about to enter his mouth. Cassius Reed, for could it really be anybody else, continues to look down at his lunch as he replies.
CASSIUS REED: “Well if you’re asking me about semantics, I’d have to say the “never” part.”
The sarcasm doesn’t sit well with Lucius. Looking about him to see who’s watching, he slips into the booth opposite his cousin.
LUCIUS REED: “Nigga don’t you even try to play smart with me. We both know you come from the shallow end of the gene pool when it comes to brains, so don’t even try to swim in my depths. You need to tell me, and tell me now, why I find myself walking down the street on my way from work, and see my low down good for nothing idiot waste of space cousin hogging a booth and getting rib sauce all over his face at my favorite eating establishment?”
Cassius nods to his elder cousin, grabbing a napkin.
CASSIUS REED: “Damn, I thought I got it all.”
As Cassius dabs at the sauce on his face, Lucius pinches the bridge of his nose.
LUCIUS REED: “Lord, give me strength, lest I kill a nigga.”
CASSIUS REED: “I’m pretty sure there’s a commandment against that you know.”
Cassius eats a french fry. As he reaches for another, Lucius reaches over and pulls Cassius’ plate away from him.
LUCIUS REED: “What. Do you want?”
CASSIUS REED: “I’d really love to finish my fries.”
LUCIUS REED: “CASSIUS!”
The outburst gets the attention of more patrons. Lucius ignores them.
LUCIUS REED: “You tell me why you’re here or so help me God I will give you the beating your daddy shoulda done if he was ever around.”
Cassius looks down at the table, drumming his fingers on the faux wood surface. There’s an audible sigh, before he speaks, not daring to look up.
CASSIUS REED: “I need…”
LUCIUS REED: “Help. Right. Like this ain’t the same song and dance you tried to feed me last time. I saw the video you made Cassius. I saw you wrestle. Bet you didn’t know that, huh? I saw you make a mockery of me, my church, and my faith. My parishioners saw it. My Bishop saw it. So don’t think you can come into town with that same pony show you did last time, and try to tug on whatever feelings I still got to you and my family, because they ain’t there. You snapped them.”
He pauses a moment, as a small group of elder women pass by the table, stopping to say hello to him as they pass. He smiles sweetly at them, telling them all he’ll see them on Sunday, before turning back to Cassius.
LUCIUS REED: “Devil Slayer my ass.”
CASSIUS REED: “Lucius… I… Look. You know me. You know this business. If you don’t… exaggerate everything, if you don’t become a character… if you don’t act like you’re somebody? Then you’re nobody. I do the third person thing, put on the character, force the accent… so people will listen. And yeah, sure… I should probably have asked you about the church thing…”
Lucius mutters something along the lines of ”damn right you should have” under his breath, but Cassius continues on.
CASSIUS REED: “But seriously, what do you expect? Look. I’ve come to you, out of all our kith and kin, for help… twice. Twice Lucius. You know what that means, man. You’ve got the surname. Reeds don’t ask for help. Reeds can’t ask for help. I… it’s too much, man. I’m being pulled all over, to Germany, to Texas, in tournaments here and there… I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams, man. I had a tournament match last week, in England? I got out there; I swear I didn’t even know why I was there. I mean… I knew why I was there, to entertain, to win… but my head… I couldn’t remember if it was NKP or 2CW or YGC or IKT or what. So many letters, that all just swim around, merge into one… Half the time I don’t know if I’m coming or going. I know it’s why I dropped out that tournament last week, I was dog tired… I don’t know if I can take it no more.”
LUCIUS REED: “You done hit your head again or something?”
Cassius raises his eyebrow; knowledge of his concussion was fairly well known, it was well advertised when it happened, a little over a year ago, yet he was still surprised to hear Lucius of all people talking about it.
LUCIUS REED: “Oh please, don’t act like that. I keep in the loop. I may want nothing to do with any of you, but that don’t mean we ain’t family.”
He steals a fry from Cassius’ plate, slowly chewing it as he thinks.
LUCIUS REED: “OK Cass. Fine. We can talk. But by the sound of things you ain’t needing a priest, you need a therapist.”
CASSIUS REED: “What’s a priest but a therapist in a fancy dress?”
LUCIUS REED: “Nigga I’m gunna pretend I didn’t hear that, especially as I just agreed to help your sorry ass.”
CASSIUS REED: “You’re right… you’re right. Sorry.”
LUCIUS REED: “Sorry? Sorry? Well as I live and breathe there may be hope for you yet. Come on, get your ass up, clean the rest of that sauce off your face, and let’s take a walk.”
CASSIUS REED: “Yeah, OK… wait, rest of it? You mean I’ve had sauce on my face the whole way through our conversation?”
In response, Lucius merely smiles, proving the Reed smile is a family trait more than anything else, whilst Cassius furiously rubs at his face with the napkin.
LUCIUS REED: “The whole damn time.”
Compared to the grand setting of Cassius’ last Iron King Tournament video promo, this week’s setting is substantially plainer. Brick walls, a simple, yet sophisticated, leather sofa. The art on the wall behind him is interesting, a pop art rendition of the classic Marvel comics character Luke Cage. The man himself, Cassius Reed, is sat on the edge of that sofa. His fingers are interlocked, as his chin rests on the knuckles of his hands, his eyes looking into the camera.
CASSIUS REED: “One week.”
Cassius leans back in the sofa, and hold up one solitary finger for the camera.
CASSIUS REED: “One week is all it took. Cassius was ridin’ high, you see. He took down the Devil, he took down Andreas “Scary Mammajamma” Lasiewicz in a match type that was so far from Cassius’ wheelhouse it’s untrue... and the world saw it. It wasn’t no fluke. It wasn’t just luck. It didn’t even have to go to judges like most of the matches in the last round. Cassius Reed slew the devil to advance in the Iron King Tournament… and Saint Cassius was born.”
Interlacing his fingers once more, he brings his hands to his mouth a moment, collecting his thoughts.
CASSIUS REED: “One week. One week later, Cassius was dumped out the Young Guns Cup by Tommy “Damn Sucka This Boy A Actual Ninja” Evans. Now Cassius can offer platitudes, say Tommy was the better man on the night or whatever… but damn it it’d be a lie if Cassius didn’t say he thought he had that one. Cassius had slain the mammajammin’ devil, for funk’s sake, and taken out two other suckas in the interim. Cassius was ridin’ that wave… and then the wave crashed.”
He sighs, heavily.
CASSIUS REED: "12 matches. From the start of December, to the end of January. One dozen matches. And Cassius only lost the last one. And that bugs Cassius. That bugs Cassius big.”
With a wave of the hand he gestures off screen.
CASSIUS REED: “Cassius found a quote from an old white guy. “Success breeds complacency. Complacency breeds failure. Only the paranoid survive.” Who’d have thunk there was a downside to success? Is that it? Did Cassius really get complacent? Too cocky?”
A moment’s pause, as he thinks it over.
CASSIUS REED: “Well, Cassius has already let one tournament slip out from between his fingers, he ain’t about to let another. The Young Guns Cup is done, Cassius was left watchin’ the end from the sidelines. The Iron King Tournament though… That’s still alive. The fight is still alive. And you know what that means?”
His serious expression drops to reveal a wide grin.
CASSIUS REED: “THE CASSIUS REED EXPERIENCE IS STILL IN BUSINESS, SUCKAS! Any of you suckas what think Cassius is down and out you about to get a short sharp lesson in how a Reed overcomes defeat. We don’t sink into the background, no. We rise, like glorious ebony phoenixes, and you damn well know Cassius Reed gunna rise higher than the rest.”
Cassius leaps up from the couch, standing in front of it, the camera tilting upwards slightly to keep him in shot.
CASSIUS REED: “Now, Cassius been researchin’ this Pankration jazz y’all got a brotha mixed up in this week. DAMN, you suckas seen this? Bout all you can’t do to a sucka is pluck out his eyes or bite him. It’s fierce. AND YOU PUT A BROTHA DOWN TO DO THAT?”
He shakes his head slowly.
CASSIUS REED: “White people.”
A crack of the knuckles, and his smile comes back in force.
CASSIUS REED: “CASSIUS DONE SLAYED THE DEVIL YOU CRAZY MAMMAJAMMAS! AND ALL HE COULD DO WAS GRAPPLE THE SUCKA! NOW YOU SAYIN’ CASSIUS CAN DO ANYTHING TO ZACK JONES, AND THAT’S OK? Damn Slaine, what did he ever do to you?”
Cassius holds his hands up, as if calming an animal.
CASSIUS REED: “Now now, Cassius knows what you suckas gunna say. Zack Jones won last years Young Guns Cup, the Cup you just got dumped out of. He’s record holdin’ former champion, over 250 days he held the SSWA World Championship. He’s this, he’s that. You know what? There’s one thing he ain’t.”
Cassius holds up a single finger smiling, holding it there for just a few moments before bringing it around to point at himself.
CASSIUS REED: “He ain’t Cassius Reed.”
Slight smirk.
CASSIUS REED: “Now Cassius could stand here in front of you, delivering’a point by point character assassination of Zack Jones, but let’s get real a minute. There ain’t no point. What witty, cuttin’insult, what observation of Zack Jones’ physical prowess of his return from injury or anything can Cassius offer you that ain’t already been said? So Cassius ain’t even botherin’. Zack might have won the Young Guns Cup a whole year ago, but Cassius? Cassius will be the Iron King.”
Another 1000 megawatt smile.
CASSIUS REED: “From sinner to saint… to King Cassius the Experience. Sounds good, don’t you think?”
A cheeky wink to the camera, and that’s all she wrote, as the feed cuts to black.
LUCIUS REED: “You’re burned out.”
Lucius reclines back in the armchair of his sparsely decorated rectory apartment, glass of whiskey (on the rocks, naturally) in his hand. Cassius is leaning back on the same sofa his promotional video was shot, looking at the ceiling, hands on his chest.
CASSIUS REED: “I’m not burned out.”
LUCIUS REED: “You’re flying halfway across the world at least twice a week, on average. You’re living in New York, yet jetting down to Cali every chance you get to see your girl. You wrestled 8 matches last month. 8. You know prize fighters fight on average 4 to 6 times a year? What makes wrestling so different that you people can fight for 25 minutes straight then just hop a jet and do the same a day later? It takes a toll Cassius. It takes a toll on your body, your mind, your spirit.”
CASSIUS REED: “It’s not that bad.”
LUCIUS REED: “When you ain’t wrestling or flying, you’re riding a desk sorting out people wrestling or flying. Stop arguing with me and listen: you’re burning out.”
Cassius pauses a moment, fixing his focus at his hands on his chest.
CASSIUS REED: “I can’t be. I’m only 24.”
LUCIUS REED: “Age ain’t nothing but a number. You came to me for ask for advice… No, you came here and forced me to listen to your problems, and hound me for advice, so damn it boy you’re gunna listen.”
He sets the glass down beside him, and leans forward.
LUCIUS REED: “You’re gonna have to make some hard choices, Cass, because sooner or later, something’s gonna snap, and trust me, you don’t want it to be you.”
Lucius checks his watch, and stands.
LUCIUS REED: “I gotta head out for mass. You’ll be gone when I get back, right?”
Quiet, Cassius nods.
LUCIUS REED: “Good…”
Lucius pauses by the door, as he puts on his coat.
LUCIUS REED: “See you around.”
And with that Lucius Reed exits through the door, leaving Cassius alone on the couch with only his thoughts for company. It’s not too long before it’s obvious that they’re not the best company, and he promptly gets up, grabbing his own jacket before leaving the apartment himself.
The tall, imposing figure of Reverend Lucius Reed looms over the entrance to the Diner booth. Dressed all in black, save for his white of his clerical collar, he cuts a terrifying figure as he stands there. The commotion has drawn the attention of some of the other diners, but he ignores them all, his attention entirely consumed by the afroed gentleman sat before him. The man smiles slightly as he hears Lucius’ voice, pausing from taking a bite of the french fry just about to enter his mouth. Cassius Reed, for could it really be anybody else, continues to look down at his lunch as he replies.
CASSIUS REED: “Well if you’re asking me about semantics, I’d have to say the “never” part.”
The sarcasm doesn’t sit well with Lucius. Looking about him to see who’s watching, he slips into the booth opposite his cousin.
LUCIUS REED: “Nigga don’t you even try to play smart with me. We both know you come from the shallow end of the gene pool when it comes to brains, so don’t even try to swim in my depths. You need to tell me, and tell me now, why I find myself walking down the street on my way from work, and see my low down good for nothing idiot waste of space cousin hogging a booth and getting rib sauce all over his face at my favorite eating establishment?”
Cassius nods to his elder cousin, grabbing a napkin.
CASSIUS REED: “Damn, I thought I got it all.”
As Cassius dabs at the sauce on his face, Lucius pinches the bridge of his nose.
LUCIUS REED: “Lord, give me strength, lest I kill a nigga.”
CASSIUS REED: “I’m pretty sure there’s a commandment against that you know.”
Cassius eats a french fry. As he reaches for another, Lucius reaches over and pulls Cassius’ plate away from him.
LUCIUS REED: “What. Do you want?”
CASSIUS REED: “I’d really love to finish my fries.”
LUCIUS REED: “CASSIUS!”
The outburst gets the attention of more patrons. Lucius ignores them.
LUCIUS REED: “You tell me why you’re here or so help me God I will give you the beating your daddy shoulda done if he was ever around.”
Cassius looks down at the table, drumming his fingers on the faux wood surface. There’s an audible sigh, before he speaks, not daring to look up.
CASSIUS REED: “I need…”
LUCIUS REED: “Help. Right. Like this ain’t the same song and dance you tried to feed me last time. I saw the video you made Cassius. I saw you wrestle. Bet you didn’t know that, huh? I saw you make a mockery of me, my church, and my faith. My parishioners saw it. My Bishop saw it. So don’t think you can come into town with that same pony show you did last time, and try to tug on whatever feelings I still got to you and my family, because they ain’t there. You snapped them.”
He pauses a moment, as a small group of elder women pass by the table, stopping to say hello to him as they pass. He smiles sweetly at them, telling them all he’ll see them on Sunday, before turning back to Cassius.
LUCIUS REED: “Devil Slayer my ass.”
CASSIUS REED: “Lucius… I… Look. You know me. You know this business. If you don’t… exaggerate everything, if you don’t become a character… if you don’t act like you’re somebody? Then you’re nobody. I do the third person thing, put on the character, force the accent… so people will listen. And yeah, sure… I should probably have asked you about the church thing…”
Lucius mutters something along the lines of ”damn right you should have” under his breath, but Cassius continues on.
CASSIUS REED: “But seriously, what do you expect? Look. I’ve come to you, out of all our kith and kin, for help… twice. Twice Lucius. You know what that means, man. You’ve got the surname. Reeds don’t ask for help. Reeds can’t ask for help. I… it’s too much, man. I’m being pulled all over, to Germany, to Texas, in tournaments here and there… I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams, man. I had a tournament match last week, in England? I got out there; I swear I didn’t even know why I was there. I mean… I knew why I was there, to entertain, to win… but my head… I couldn’t remember if it was NKP or 2CW or YGC or IKT or what. So many letters, that all just swim around, merge into one… Half the time I don’t know if I’m coming or going. I know it’s why I dropped out that tournament last week, I was dog tired… I don’t know if I can take it no more.”
LUCIUS REED: “You done hit your head again or something?”
Cassius raises his eyebrow; knowledge of his concussion was fairly well known, it was well advertised when it happened, a little over a year ago, yet he was still surprised to hear Lucius of all people talking about it.
LUCIUS REED: “Oh please, don’t act like that. I keep in the loop. I may want nothing to do with any of you, but that don’t mean we ain’t family.”
He steals a fry from Cassius’ plate, slowly chewing it as he thinks.
LUCIUS REED: “OK Cass. Fine. We can talk. But by the sound of things you ain’t needing a priest, you need a therapist.”
CASSIUS REED: “What’s a priest but a therapist in a fancy dress?”
LUCIUS REED: “Nigga I’m gunna pretend I didn’t hear that, especially as I just agreed to help your sorry ass.”
CASSIUS REED: “You’re right… you’re right. Sorry.”
LUCIUS REED: “Sorry? Sorry? Well as I live and breathe there may be hope for you yet. Come on, get your ass up, clean the rest of that sauce off your face, and let’s take a walk.”
CASSIUS REED: “Yeah, OK… wait, rest of it? You mean I’ve had sauce on my face the whole way through our conversation?”
In response, Lucius merely smiles, proving the Reed smile is a family trait more than anything else, whilst Cassius furiously rubs at his face with the napkin.
LUCIUS REED: “The whole damn time.”
-----
Compared to the grand setting of Cassius’ last Iron King Tournament video promo, this week’s setting is substantially plainer. Brick walls, a simple, yet sophisticated, leather sofa. The art on the wall behind him is interesting, a pop art rendition of the classic Marvel comics character Luke Cage. The man himself, Cassius Reed, is sat on the edge of that sofa. His fingers are interlocked, as his chin rests on the knuckles of his hands, his eyes looking into the camera.
CASSIUS REED: “One week.”
Cassius leans back in the sofa, and hold up one solitary finger for the camera.
CASSIUS REED: “One week is all it took. Cassius was ridin’ high, you see. He took down the Devil, he took down Andreas “Scary Mammajamma” Lasiewicz in a match type that was so far from Cassius’ wheelhouse it’s untrue... and the world saw it. It wasn’t no fluke. It wasn’t just luck. It didn’t even have to go to judges like most of the matches in the last round. Cassius Reed slew the devil to advance in the Iron King Tournament… and Saint Cassius was born.”
Interlacing his fingers once more, he brings his hands to his mouth a moment, collecting his thoughts.
CASSIUS REED: “One week. One week later, Cassius was dumped out the Young Guns Cup by Tommy “Damn Sucka This Boy A Actual Ninja” Evans. Now Cassius can offer platitudes, say Tommy was the better man on the night or whatever… but damn it it’d be a lie if Cassius didn’t say he thought he had that one. Cassius had slain the mammajammin’ devil, for funk’s sake, and taken out two other suckas in the interim. Cassius was ridin’ that wave… and then the wave crashed.”
He sighs, heavily.
CASSIUS REED: "12 matches. From the start of December, to the end of January. One dozen matches. And Cassius only lost the last one. And that bugs Cassius. That bugs Cassius big.”
With a wave of the hand he gestures off screen.
CASSIUS REED: “Cassius found a quote from an old white guy. “Success breeds complacency. Complacency breeds failure. Only the paranoid survive.” Who’d have thunk there was a downside to success? Is that it? Did Cassius really get complacent? Too cocky?”
A moment’s pause, as he thinks it over.
CASSIUS REED: “Well, Cassius has already let one tournament slip out from between his fingers, he ain’t about to let another. The Young Guns Cup is done, Cassius was left watchin’ the end from the sidelines. The Iron King Tournament though… That’s still alive. The fight is still alive. And you know what that means?”
His serious expression drops to reveal a wide grin.
CASSIUS REED: “THE CASSIUS REED EXPERIENCE IS STILL IN BUSINESS, SUCKAS! Any of you suckas what think Cassius is down and out you about to get a short sharp lesson in how a Reed overcomes defeat. We don’t sink into the background, no. We rise, like glorious ebony phoenixes, and you damn well know Cassius Reed gunna rise higher than the rest.”
Cassius leaps up from the couch, standing in front of it, the camera tilting upwards slightly to keep him in shot.
CASSIUS REED: “Now, Cassius been researchin’ this Pankration jazz y’all got a brotha mixed up in this week. DAMN, you suckas seen this? Bout all you can’t do to a sucka is pluck out his eyes or bite him. It’s fierce. AND YOU PUT A BROTHA DOWN TO DO THAT?”
He shakes his head slowly.
CASSIUS REED: “White people.”
A crack of the knuckles, and his smile comes back in force.
CASSIUS REED: “CASSIUS DONE SLAYED THE DEVIL YOU CRAZY MAMMAJAMMAS! AND ALL HE COULD DO WAS GRAPPLE THE SUCKA! NOW YOU SAYIN’ CASSIUS CAN DO ANYTHING TO ZACK JONES, AND THAT’S OK? Damn Slaine, what did he ever do to you?”
Cassius holds his hands up, as if calming an animal.
CASSIUS REED: “Now now, Cassius knows what you suckas gunna say. Zack Jones won last years Young Guns Cup, the Cup you just got dumped out of. He’s record holdin’ former champion, over 250 days he held the SSWA World Championship. He’s this, he’s that. You know what? There’s one thing he ain’t.”
Cassius holds up a single finger smiling, holding it there for just a few moments before bringing it around to point at himself.
CASSIUS REED: “He ain’t Cassius Reed.”
Slight smirk.
CASSIUS REED: “Now Cassius could stand here in front of you, delivering’a point by point character assassination of Zack Jones, but let’s get real a minute. There ain’t no point. What witty, cuttin’insult, what observation of Zack Jones’ physical prowess of his return from injury or anything can Cassius offer you that ain’t already been said? So Cassius ain’t even botherin’. Zack might have won the Young Guns Cup a whole year ago, but Cassius? Cassius will be the Iron King.”
Another 1000 megawatt smile.
CASSIUS REED: “From sinner to saint… to King Cassius the Experience. Sounds good, don’t you think?”
A cheeky wink to the camera, and that’s all she wrote, as the feed cuts to black.
-----
LUCIUS REED: “You’re burned out.”
Lucius reclines back in the armchair of his sparsely decorated rectory apartment, glass of whiskey (on the rocks, naturally) in his hand. Cassius is leaning back on the same sofa his promotional video was shot, looking at the ceiling, hands on his chest.
CASSIUS REED: “I’m not burned out.”
LUCIUS REED: “You’re flying halfway across the world at least twice a week, on average. You’re living in New York, yet jetting down to Cali every chance you get to see your girl. You wrestled 8 matches last month. 8. You know prize fighters fight on average 4 to 6 times a year? What makes wrestling so different that you people can fight for 25 minutes straight then just hop a jet and do the same a day later? It takes a toll Cassius. It takes a toll on your body, your mind, your spirit.”
CASSIUS REED: “It’s not that bad.”
LUCIUS REED: “When you ain’t wrestling or flying, you’re riding a desk sorting out people wrestling or flying. Stop arguing with me and listen: you’re burning out.”
Cassius pauses a moment, fixing his focus at his hands on his chest.
CASSIUS REED: “I can’t be. I’m only 24.”
LUCIUS REED: “Age ain’t nothing but a number. You came to me for ask for advice… No, you came here and forced me to listen to your problems, and hound me for advice, so damn it boy you’re gunna listen.”
He sets the glass down beside him, and leans forward.
LUCIUS REED: “You’re gonna have to make some hard choices, Cass, because sooner or later, something’s gonna snap, and trust me, you don’t want it to be you.”
Lucius checks his watch, and stands.
LUCIUS REED: “I gotta head out for mass. You’ll be gone when I get back, right?”
Quiet, Cassius nods.
LUCIUS REED: “Good…”
Lucius pauses by the door, as he puts on his coat.
LUCIUS REED: “See you around.”
And with that Lucius Reed exits through the door, leaving Cassius alone on the couch with only his thoughts for company. It’s not too long before it’s obvious that they’re not the best company, and he promptly gets up, grabbing his own jacket before leaving the apartment himself.