No Luxury

No Luxury

Posted on August 11, 2021 at 4:28 pm by Kevin Capone

HOWRESTLING.COM ONLINE EXCLUSIVE

REFUELED LXX

The “Kingdom” by Jaxson Gamble has long been muted and the jumbotron at Refueled is showing Daytona’s debut segment. Most fan’s attention is on the jumbotron as Capone is down on one knee in the middle of the ring, his eyes carrying the weight of utter despair. He pats his forehead with the back of his black padded glove and a light track of blood smears across it. He holds position for a moment, his abdomen steadily expanding and contracting, before getting up on both feet.

He removes the fighting gloves and flings them on the canvas. Kevin makes his way over to the ropes and rests his hands on the top rope, absorbed in defeat. He exits the ring and acknowledges a few of the HOW fans, as he makes his way towards the back. Others begin to yell.

HOW Fan 1: Face facts, Capone! You can’t hack it here!

HOW Fan 2: Was THAT it!?

HOW Fan 3: The Streak Continues! 0 – 3

————————–

“Kevin!?”

“KEVIN!?”

Capone looked over blankly at Cindy, who though agitated, did not have one strand of her black ever-done hair out of place.

“You cannot expect me to stay here!” she shouted, eyes-wide and petite arms animatedly waving at the sign above. “Are you out of your mind!?”

The dilapidated sign read:

A CHEAP MOTEL

FOR INTERCOURSE

WITH A NEAR STRANGER

VACANCY (lights flickering)

“Why don’t we stay at the Marriott up the road,” Cindy continued neither her wrath nor her insistence getting to Capone. “You can afford it!”

“Can I?”

“Listen you cheap fuck, if you want to stay here, fine,” Cindy lashed forward toward Kevin, not caring about the over hundred-pound difference in their size. “But I’m staying at the Marriott..And I’m putting it on the business card.”

“And you can keep recording this Vlogging bullshit, yourself!”

With that Cindy haphazardly dropped the video camera to the floor and hopped into Kevin’s blue Chevy Cruze rental. Skating off for emphasis, though not before throwing Kevin’s carry-on through the back window. Capone calmly picked up the camera off of the floor, inspected, and dusted it off. He found himself in the desolate motel parking lot alone. He didn’t bother to check his other belongings.

“Good. Less distractions.”

Kevin wobbled the camera a bit before setting it in focus and looking straight into the lens.

Guess it’s just you and me, Doozer.

You know, I haven’t had much luck with any member of the Best Alliance since my start with High Octane Wrestling, so for that reason alone I’m not taking you lightly. Not to mention you’re a grizzled veteran in the squared-circle so you’re not getting sneezed at by me either. But I must admit after seeking my first ever HOW victory against Jatt Starr then John Sektor then Jace Parker Davidson, trying to do the same against you is a bit anti-climactic. Kinda like winning one of those all-expense paid trips to a resort only to have to come back to one’s shitty home. Not calling you shitty Doozer, but ya know? This is the way the HOW god’s err God rather, planned it for me and this is what I’ve earned. Losers can’t be choosers. So Doozer vs. Kevin Capone it is. And I’m more than fine with that.

Jace Parker Davidson called you a dollar menu item in the HOW hierarchy of nutrition, but I don’t have the luxury to look past any one here. This is one of those matches where if I’m not careful, I can get my ass handed to me on a silver platter.

Doozer has a charming, self-deprecating way to him that can fool his opponents into disarming themselves, but you don’t last as long as he has in this business if you don’t know your way around the ring. He also has a way with jokes and being funny that can get under his opponent’s skin. That’s where he’ll fool himself if he thinks that will somehow stop me from wringing his neck like chicken. Yes, I said I’ll choke the chicken. Cringey joke, I know, but see Doozer, making light of that or anything else I say for that matter won’t change the fact that I’ll be coming for you hard at Refueled. Pause?

Capone shakes his head

You can “Dooze and Don’t me” to death, but that won’t mean shit when I hit you with the Scenic Route or better yet put you out with the Quick & Painful. We’re here to entertain the masses and you do that magnificently on the mic, but in the ring, the other side of entertaining, we’ll find out if your old dog tricks will be enough to take out this stray mutt.

I don’t dislike you Doozer, in fact, you would probably be a fun guy to grab a beer with. But thing is, you stand in between something I want here in HOW. That elusive victory. And if it means taking you, 360, around the world with the Scenic Route or making you scream ma’ with the Quick & Painful, I’m going to get that elusive victory. Mark my words.

I didn’t come back here to let your lil’ sermons and limited skills get the best of me. At Refueled Seventy-One we’ll be in a fight. The jokes? Forgotten when I have you agonizing in pain courtesy of a vicious cross-face chicken wing. The charm? A lost thought, when I have you twisted in an inhumane heap due to a nasty Kimora Lock. I expect you to bring what you have in the ring, no doubt, as well. All that will be left is two old dogs fighting it out. Michael Vick couldn’t have scripted this better. No fancy soundtrack, no elaborate set up or special video package hyping this bout. Doozer vs. Kevin Capone. That’s it. The sport in its purest form. Two men enter the ring to find out whom is the better wrestler on this given night. All in the name of climbing the ranks of High Octane Wrestling.

No bells, no whistles, no luxury.

Just right.