-----

CASTRO SHAW

-----


[Deep space.  Black, cold, but filled with the small twinkles of billions of stars.]

 

VOICE: My son...

 

[That's not just a voice, that's the voice, as in the vibrating vocal chords stretched across the larynx of the greatest actor to ever live... Marlon Brando.]

 

VOICE: ...you do not remember me.

 

[Just then the camera pans around to that of a man with a black curly mullet that is shaved on the sides and slicked back.  He has a beard, which is missing the mustache part, going up each cheek which disappears right above each ear.  With a confused look he stares up at the sky.  This is Castro Shaw, he is now employed by Shootfire Pro Wrestling.  You'll just have to get used to that.]

 

CASTRO: No, we like spoke yesterday, mang.  On the phone.  Remember you handed the phone off to mom 'cause like you had to the bathroom and you didn't think you were gonna make it.

 

[Cut back to the sky.]

 

VOICE: ...

 

[Cut back to Shaw.]

 

CASTRO: Oh, nevermind.  Continue.

 

[Cut back to the sky.]

 

VOICE: My son, you do not remember me.

 

[Castro is seen rolling his hand around as if to say 'did this part, let's move on' without interrupting whatever is going on again and prolonging this part as long as possible.]

 

CASTRO: Padre?

 

VOICE: Your name is Kal-El.

 

CASTRO: Actually, it's Castro.

 

VOICE: Your name is Kal-El.

 

CASTRO: Alright Kal-El, 'dat works for me mang.  We could like say it was the Spanish translation of Castro or somethin'.

 

[Another pause and the camera swings around to the back of Shaw, he is looking up at the stars, talking to himself most likely at this point.]

 

VOICE: You are the only survivor of the planet Krypton. Even though you've been raised as a human, you are not one of them.  You have great powers, only some of which you have as yet discovered.

 

CASTRO: See?  I knew it!  'dats why they're all jealous of me, they all know 'dat I am just walkin' 'round like a livin' battery of awesome just waitin' to plug in the Love Blender somewhere and light the whole place up.

 

So, what is it 'dat you want me to do, amigo?

 

[Another pause as Castro strains his neck forward waiting for the response which is all probably in his head, but it seems like he really is hearing the Marlon Brando voice.]

 

VOICE: They could be great people Kal-El if they wish to be. They only lack the light to show the way...

 

[There's a bit of a pause and a confused look on the face of Castro Shaw.]

 

CASTRO: It's only Johnny Pain.  It's not like it's against anyone important, it's Johnny Pain.  I don't think the guy even registers on the what's important in the world scale, hell, I don't think he has ever been more than jus' a waste of television time.  I'm not battling the forces of evil or nuttin', mang.

 

Unless you're counting the battle I am going to have on my hands with the dip in the ratings?  And the battle of keeping people from getting out of their seats to get a beer when the announcer says "Johnny Pain", then it might be like battling against evil.  In 'dat case, I'm gonna do Pain up really nice like, I'm gonna toy 'wit him a bit, smack'em 'round make him feel bad for being who he is.  Then, when 'dats all good and he's cryin' in the ring I'm gonna put through the love blender and hit puree on 'dat pendejo.

 

'dats it!  'dats the reason!

 

[Then there's the answer.]

 

VOICE: ...this reason above all is why I send them you, my only son.

 

CASTRO: And 'dat is why you send the main mang to Ascension.

 

[And with that, the awesome John Williams theme begins to build up slowly just as the camera beings to slowly pan around the body of Castro Shaw.  He reaches towards the opening in his dark colored leather jacket and just as the "Superman" theme reaches it's crescendo Castro rips open the jacket sporting the unmistakable Superman "S" symbol on his shirt.

 

With that, we fade to black.]


-----

WHISPER

-----


Chris Cartwright: So is there a reason you didn't see the staff physician last week?

 

[The English accent of the Executive Vice President of Wrestling caught the ear of the man in white. Whisper didn't turn around to look at him, leaning against one of the access tunnel walls of the Sommet Center, staring off into nothingness. Chris adjusts the cuffs of his shirt before slipping his hand in his pocket, the other hanging casually along his side while he waits for an answer patiently.]

 

Whisper: I was fine, I didn't need to waste his time.

 

Chris Cartwright: Really? [tilts his head to the side studying him.] You were fine? You expect me to believe that?

 

Whisper: That's your choice, sir. Regardless, that's the answer you're going to pry out of me.

 

Chris Cartwright: You put Chance McKenzie out of action, and there's no way anyone could have done, what you did...and be "fine". You could have seriously injured yourself, it may not have showed right away with the adrenaline rush you had running through your body, but later on, it could have had long term effects on your health and well being. It's not worth it, mate.

 

Whisper: Ok.

 

[Chris pauses for a moment, still trying to read him.]

 

Chris Cartwright: Ok? That's it?

 

Whisper: I know, things. I've done this all before, it's nothing new. You're doing your job, to make sure that I'm at a functioning capacity every time I'm called up to be on Conquest or now  Ascension, as the case is tonight. I have no misconceptions what I am to SPW, I'm a chance. An X-Factor that's anything could happen with. I could be the next big thing, I could be headlining PPVs come this time next year. Or I could burn out tonight when I'm thrown to the slaughter at the hands of DEATHKNELL. [Turning around to face Chirs, Whisper nods in acknowledgement of him.] Either way, until that X-Factor evolves, you need to make sure that I'm "acceptable"...nothing more.

 

Chris Cartwright: Hmm...I'm not sure where you've worked before. Or who you've worked with before, but I actually care about your well being. Wether you walk out of the arena tonight and never come back, or you're here for another 15 years. I don't treat my wrestlers like race horses and take them out to pasture once they've run their course. I've done this for a long time, I don't want you to end up in a wheel chair because of me. I understand, you're a proud man, not seeing the physician last week reflected that, that you didn't want to show weakness. However, everyone in the locker room back there, from Sammy Knight to Chad Allen, Andrew Davis and Dave Pietka, Vile Vince Viper or Nikki James, I don't care who you are, I'm going to make sure that you all have a clean bill of health before you leave the arena.

 

[Now it was his turn, Whisper tilting his head and looking Cartwright over, trying to see exactly where he was coming from.]

 

Whisper: Part of my didn't take you as the patriarchal type, it's a bit, refreshing to know your views and your stance. I respect that, however...I am...my own man...tonight, DEATHKNELL will attempt to murder me in the middle of the ring. He wouldn't be the first, he probably won't be the last...I understand he likes to hurt people and most everyone else who has stepped in the ring with him has spent more then a few hours having their flesh stitched back together and being wrapped up like a mummy. Knowing this, I look forward to tonight's challenge...and I also look forward to walking away from the ring...to the back...and out of the arena. I'm telling you this now, because I want to give you piece of mind, in spite of your concern, if I can walk away from the ring...I'm fine.

 

Chris Cartwright: [Sighs.] That's your choice, and nothing short of dragging you into the physicians office myself can get you in there. However, I can find you before and after every show, and badger you until you give in.

 

Whisper: [chuckles softly.] That's funny.

 

Chris Cartwright: What?

 

Whisper: The idea of you, throwing me in a cravat and dragging me to the staff doctor I find much scarier then the idea of meeting DEATHKNELL in the ring.

 

Chris Cartwright: [Smiles at the comment.] Don't think I'm too old, or I wouldn't be willing to do it either.

 

Whisper: Oh no, I don't put that past you all, sir. I will however, go out on a limb and make a request from you.

 

Chris Cartwright: Oh? What would that be?

 

Whisper: Trust me.


Chris Cartwright: Trust you?

 

Whisper: [Nod.] Trust me. Trust me that I know what I'm doing, in return, I promise you...[extends his hand to Mr. Cartwright.] you won't be disappointed.

 

[Chris looks at his hand, before letting his eyes raise to the masked man's. Pulling his hand from his pocket, Cartwright shakes firmly, Whisper bowing his head in return.]

 

Whisper: I need to push myself beyond the limits in order to discover exactly what...and who I am and will become. [Withdrawing his hand.] DEATHKNELL was JDM Superstar's punishment for my transgressions against him. His punishment, is my present...this is the new test I need in my life to see what I'm becoming.

 

Chris Cartwright: I've never heard it put that way before. Must people tend to call in sick or miss flights when they're booked to wrestle DEATHKNELL. Not many people look forward to it.

 

Whisper: I'm not like most people. Regardless of what he thinks he is, DEATHKNELL is just a man. Flesh and bone, blood and tissue. I see through the demeanor that he portrays and the psychological terror he's implanted in the minds of his opponents. He's just a man....one who's listened to far to much Viking heavy metal and Hellraiser marathons...but a man, none the less.

 

Chris Cartwright: Well, I don't know what to tell you. But it's obvious you're ready for your match tonight. I wanna wish you good luck, and ask again, after the match...if you think you might even been injured, please see the physician. Again, I don't want anything to happen to you.

 

Whisper: [Nod.] I can't promise you I will, I can't promise you I won't...because all of that's in the future.

 

[Fades to Black.]

 

                                            ....and the future, is unwritten...


-----

DEATHKNELL

-----


[A small room with shitty green wall paper, rotten hardwood floor, a dozen people in black robes kneeling at the foot of an alter.  Rumblings.  An upside down cross against the far wall is the centre of attention.  The size of the cloaked figures give them all away, The Children, a large number of little person castoffs from Viper’s god run... and in the centre of the room, the man monster, DEATHKNELL.  He stares up at the cross, disgust covered by his metallic mask, but burning red eyes don’t mask his hatred.]


 


[DOOM.]


 


[This isn’t the first time Deathknell has joined a cult... but he’s more of a DOOMSDAY cult kind of guy, not really into the Satan worship.  How did he join them?  He doesn’t remember much after the explosion.  Standing on either side of them is Real Xtreme... The Children.  The last time his malevolent presence graced the SPW, these bootlicks were his sidekicks.  The fucking sell-outs.  Rumblings.  Look at them praying, happy, without a worry in the world.  Bastards.  Brothers.  ...One big happy family.]


 


[DOOM.]


 


[Why can’t DEATHKNELL be the father?  Rumblings.  Why should he treat these men as his equals, when they used to be HIS god damned army?  Why doesn’t he wring their stupid sell-out necks?  The Father wouldn’t approve.  Father... ha.  LOST to Marcus Davis... some evil entity he turned out to be.  No... they should follow a real man... a KING.  Rumblings.  Who needs a JESTER when you can have royalty?  He can rebuild his empire.  Cast new shadows.  Build a new kingdom... he will replace the clown!]


 


[Vile “Vince” Viper enters the room...]


 


[DEATHKNELL puts off his plans to take over the Family.  He’d never admit it, but that crazy old man is kind of scary.  Everyone starts bowing like crazy as Vile makes an appearance.  Rumblings.  A dirty look puts DEATHKNELL in line.  The Jester is kind of scary too.  So he’ll bow, he’ll chant, he’ll pray... he’ll bide his time.  Rumblings.]


 


[Vile inspects the sheep... then turns to the alter... adjusting the upside down crucifix... then replaces it with a glossy vanity picture of the king of snakes.  The chanting stops.  Raising a razor-sharp claw, Vile cracks his neck, quickly scaring the midgets back to prayer.  Why not?  As the elderly bastard leaves the room, the flock continue to pray... all but the enforcer, who turns to meet the camera with his burning red eyes...]


 


<DEATHKNELL>: ...WHISPERS... RUMBLINGS... WE HEAR YOU... WE HEAR ALL.  WE HEAR THE GOSSIP, THE RUMOURS, THE HUSHED TONES BEHIND OUR BACKS, AND THE VOICES IN OUR HEADS.  WE HEAR, AND WE KNOW. 


 


THE FUTURE IS UNWRITTEN? 


 


YES... AND IT ALL ENDS IN DEATH.  MY ROAD... YOUR ROAD... BOTH LEAD US DOWN A PATH TO YOUR DEMISE.  UNWRITTEN?  THE WORDS ARE IN MY FOOTPRINTS, THEY COVER YOUR BLOATED CORPSE.  A RICH TAPESTRY OF PAIN... YOU JUST HAVE TO KNOW HOW TO READ.  CAN YOU READ?  MANY OF THE SURFS CAN’T... I TRY TO LEAD BY EXAMPLE, BUT MY ROLE HAS TURNED TO THAT OF FOLLOWER.  THIS DISPLEASES ME... YET YOU’LL BE THE ONE WHO SUFFERS FOR THEIR TRANSGRESSIONS.


 


IT IS WRITTEN IN THE WIND.


 


[doom.] 


 


WHOOSH.  AS YOUR BODY FLIES THROUGH THE AIR, DANCES IN THE WIND, WRACKED WITH AGONY... THE SOUNDS IT WILL MAKE.  NOT A WHISPER, BUT A CRY.  YOU’LL BE BROKEN BEFORE YOU HIT THE GROUND.  YOU MAY MAKE LIGHT OF THIS... YOUR MASK DOES HIDE A JACKASS... YOU CAN LAUGH ALL YOU LIKE, IN THE END, YOU _WILL_ KNOW YOUR PLACE.  STOMPED INTO THE MUD, REJOINING THE EARTH, MORE DEAD THAN ALIVE...


 


WHISPER... YOU WILL BE _SILENCED_ FOR THE GOOD OF THE FAMILY.  SAY WHAT YOU WILL... THERE IS A TIME AND A PLACE... I HOLD MY TONGUE... BUT GET IT ALL OUT.  THIS TIME IS YOURS... YOU DON’T HAVE MUCH LEFT... MAKE YOURSELF HEARD. CAN YOU HEAR THEM? 


 


[...ommmmm...]


 


 


LISTEN CLOSELY...


 


[...oom.] 


 


DO YOU HEAR THE BELLS...


 


[...doom...] 


 


THEY TOLL FOR YOU.


 


#DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM#


 


[Rumblings.]


 


[DOOM.] 


-----

"CUNNING" JAMES O'CONNOR

-----


[Fade in to a small ball python, tongue flickering in and out of view as it slithers across the screen.]


VOICE: A young man comes across an old snake lying in the middle of the road.  The snake asks the man to carry him back to his home on the top of a nearby mountain, so that the snake may die in peace.  The man replies that he can not trust the snake, for it was known to bite people and inflict its victim with terrible poison.  The snake promises not to bite, if the man will do him this one favor.


[The snake settles into a spot it likes and ceases to move.]


VOICE: The man picks up the snake, and true to his word the snake does not bite.  Through rain, sun and snow, the man shields the snake from the elements and the snake stays nestled in the man's protective grasp.  Finally, they reach the man's home at the top of the mountain.  The man goes to open the door when, finally, the snake bites him on the chest.


[The snake appears to be staring at the camera.  The camera pulls back, revealing that the python is in a large glass case.]


VOICE: The man cried out to the old snake, demanding to know why he bit him.  The snake responded, "I am a snake" he said to the now dying young man, "just as I was when you found me."


[As the camera finishes it's backwards pull, we see the man who was talking all along - "Cunning" James O'Connor.  Wearing a Phillies cap and a black leather jacket, the SOW Warrior Champion addresses the camera.  He kneels down, almost talking to the python now.]


JOC: Who am I to criticize you?  You may not have the venom you once had, Viper, but you're just as deadly as ever.  You know how to suffocate, to take up all the room around your victim until you've ensnared them in your trap.  At least you can, if you can catch someone unaware.  I wish I could tell you I'll be ready, but after the Fusion title match last week I know better than to make that guarantee.  I'm just happy that it was the man who gave me my big break, a man I respect and admire for the way he handles his business, who retained the Fusion title in Atlanta.  Barry Baldwin deserves to be Fusion champion until someone can meet him, one on one, and prove for a fact that they're better than him.


[James stands.]


JOC: I'll be honest, Vile, I didn't have much of a reaction when you spurned the fans and joined the Family, or when you used an obscene amount of interference to win the SPW Title, or even when you came out and cursed out the entire locker room.  You are Vile "Vince" Viper, you are the King of Snakes, just as you have always been.  Anyone who really felt you were in it for anyone but yourself almost deserves the disappointment you've given them.  The fans embraced you, and you bit them.  One day, the same thing will happen to Chad Allen once he's no longer useful to you.  That's just who you are.  That is who you will always be.


[A small smirk.]


JOC: So of course I thought of that story, one I must have heard a hundred times growing up, when I found out I would be facing you with a chance to get into the World Title match at Wrestlebowl.  I'll admit, though, that your tendency for betrayal isn't the only reason it crossed my mind.  


[He brushes the hair back from his face.]


JOC: How many matches have you had in your career?  Hundreds?  Thousands?  And of those matches, how many times has your opponent told that story to get their point across?  Or used a snake as a visual aid?  I'll bet it's almost cliche for you by now, or predictable to an extent.  It pains me to say that "cliche" and "predictable" are two pretty accurate words to describe you anymore.  


[He puts a hand up.]


JOC: Don't get me wrong.  You're a tough bastard and I know better than to underestimate you for a second.  What you do at your age, the level you perform at, proves you are worthy of the accolades that were bestowed upon you.  I was even honored that you mentioned me in your little speech last Conquest.  But let's get real here.  You come out and say some outlandish things about whoever is in your general vicinity, you hate authority figures, and whenever you win you take great pride in rubbing it in everyone's face.  That's...that's basically it, right?  


[A laugh.]


JOC: And let's not forget that you're now stealing the material of Jean Pierre Celine.  Vile, I had more respect for you than that.  Celine markets himself as a second rate version of you and YOU'RE ripping HIM off?  I'd have thought the legendary King of Snakes could come up with his own material.  


[The camera zooms in.]


JOC: Know, Vile, that I approach my match with you the same way.  If I can't defeat the most recent champion one on one, I don't belong in that Wrestlebowl match.  Everyone knows how much you want that title, and they say you'll do anything to get it.  Prove it.  Prove that you're still the Vile "Vince" Viper that earned his reputation for violence and unpredictability.  I can't promise I'll beat you, but I can promise that if you're the same old Vince Viper that you've been recently, the man who rips off a pedophile's best friend because he can't think of anything clever himself, you're not going to make it to the championship match at Wrestlebowl.  Come to me with the same old tricks, and you'll find I'm full of surprises.  May the best man win, Vile, because I know YOU HAVE...


[A grin.]


JOC: ...no idea how I'm going to finish this sentence.


[With this, we fade out.]


-----

"VILE" VINCE VIPER

-----


[Harsh winds cause metal doors to swing open violently, out onto a football field.  A small independent wrestling show has just finished at Derringer high, and a few of the workers are using a back entrance to beat the marks.  There were probably less than two hundred people in attendance.  Its personal appearances like these that piss off the Shootfire brass, that make management question the cheap heat machine as a viable world champion.  Why would Joe Public throw his hard earned cash at a pay per view, when they can see the champ taking on hobos at the local civic centre?  Bastards.  So our antagonist makes a little money on the side taking advantage of teenagers while on the road?  What are a few hundred bucks for the highlight of those retarded punk’s lives.  Is this really a threat?  FUCKING MANAGEMENT!  It’s these thoughts that keep Vile Vince Viper’s blood hot, as he steps out into the cold.  A thin frost covers the Astroturf, as it starts to snow.  The former king of snakes starts to head towards his dodge viper, before some asshole fan corners him for a picture.]


 


Voice: MISTER VIPER!


 


[Too late.]


 


[A thirty something man briskly runs across the field, slowing only so his eight-year-old son can keep up.  Is that as fast as those short legs can go?  Vile like’s children, they remind him of little people – who make him feel big.  Still, if this kid wants a picture he’d better pick up the pace, because they are REALLY pushing it.  TripleV looks at his watch, then back up, he rather avoid the rest of the crowd.  Sadly another asshole mark has shown up with a camcorder – the one filming this promo – and the last thing Vile needs is youtube footage of him stomping on an annoying brat.  That’d REALLY help his title chances.]


 


Father: We hoped we could get your autograph...


 


[As the father yells across the short distance, Vile ducks down, waving them over with one hand, while encouraging them to shut up with all his other body language.  Low profile.  He’s freezing his balls off over here, and doesn’t need an army of snot nosed marks playing twenty questions.  The questions are always the same: “Which diva is better in the sack?”  Of course, they’re all about the same, interchangeable, lazy, and much like their feuds, uneventful.  God, Vile hates fans.  Still, as the shy boy finally staggers up with a toy figure, Vile can’t help but smile.  The kid is adorable.  The gold pen Vile keeps for these occasions barely scratches the hard plastic of the figurine, but the dangerous albino makes an effort anyway.]


 


Boy: u’r waaay bett’r than Davis.


 


Vile Vince Viper: Thanksss.  I think so too.


 


[It was nice of the kid to say.  It was rehearsed.  The little shit was lying.  Still, the sentiment was appreciated.  The boy flashes a shy smile, before excitedly running back to his father, grabbing his hand.  The father nods thankfully to the scarlet serpent, and then turns to leave.  The boy is practically skipping; when he gets back to school he’ll tell ALL his friends how bad the old monster smells, and how he wasn’t afraid of the miserable bastard at all.  The kid swings on his father’s arm; it’s a nice bonding moment.  For a split second, Vile wonders if THAT was what it was like for Sammy before the drive-by?  It reminds him of his own son.  VVV spent most of the boy’s childhood on the road... they don’t have the best relationship.  Given his age, Vile was more of a father to his younger co-workers.  His surrogate wrestling family... not that he hasn’t run out on them too.  Paternal instincts kicking into overdrive when he’s around greenhorns like O’Connor.  Poor O’Connor.  When Vile drifts out of his daydream to the frigid air, he’s been surrounded by a small group of asshole fans.  The father and son have disappeared into the night.]


 


Vile Vince Viper <staring off blankly>: One at a time...


 


[Coming back to reality, The Shootfire Devil finds himself scribbling initials on an Ascension poster.  A nice little advertisement for the new show, the undercard is in as small a font as possible – for obvious reasons – but Viper’s name is gigantic, as is The Cunnings.  The profiles of both men make up the visual component, TripleV’s graven image slightly larger.  He appreciates this.  Playing to his ego, Vile turns his back on the fans, holding the poster up to the camcorder...]


 


Vile Vince Viper: ...Now this I like... if you’re introducing a new program to the massssssss market, don’t take any chances, give the people what they want.  Whenever they launch a new X-man comic book, they always have Magneto act as the villain, they know the fans will buy the book to see him... he’s a DRAW, so he commands ssstrong sssalesss, and starts the new title off with a bang.  Sssame goes for Batman and the Joker.  Ssshootfire wressstling has a new show... how do they guarantee high ratings?  Dave Pietka?  ...Didn’t work out to well for ICWF.  Marisssssssa Monet?  Anyone remember VXW?  HELL... Andrew Davis didn’t even WORK OUT for SSSPW!  No... they want a DRAW; they want to christen a new flagship for sssssssssssssmooth sssailing?  They come to the <pointing> V-man!  I don’t even need an opponent... they could stick me against wet paint drying and I’d STILL get a bigger house than <sways head from side to side with each word for emphasis> every other star on this show combined! <fiendish grin> But they DIDN’T just give me anyone... they gave me HIM!


 


[On the _HIM_ downbeat, Vile turns back to the poster, slapping the picture James O’Connor with the backside of his claw.]


 


Vile Vince Viper: Look at him... <double take> JUST LOOK AT HIM...


 


[Pulling a gold pen he uses for autographs out of his sleeve, Vile starts to draw little stars around the picture, denoting how shiny or squeaky clean he is.  You can’t decide which.  Still, he’ll probably draw stink lines shortly, so it’s a nice set-up.]


 


Vile Vince Viper: Look at that face... I routinely make graphic rape jokes, in between STOMPING teeth down men’s throats, and <pointing> THAT _FACE_ can draw in elderly women who think he’s their grandssson.  GOLDEN!


 


[Dementia, it’s a beautiful thing.  Twisting his head, Vile looks back at the photo of O’Connor again, before turning back to the camera and forcing the same “All American” smile.]


 


Vile Vince Viper: I genuinely like Jamesss O’Connor.  He’s a nice kid.  Down to earth, driven, willing to do whatever it takes to succeed, while simultaneously paying his duesss.  Even though he could rocket to the main event, he’s slowly paying his dues, so no one accuses him of being the product of nepotisssm.  He’s a student of the SSSPORT, from improving his moveset by leaps and bounds, to fine tuning his promo skills; the kid’s a damned prodigy! <flinch> Normally I resssent the FUCK out of talent, but in this case, I’m actually pulling for the kid. <toothy grin> Now, I’m not just saying that because he reminded me of my god powers, or because <again swaying his head with each word for emphasis> he was the ONLY GUY IN THE BACK WHO DIDN’T GIVE ME THE COLD SSSHOULDER WHEN I FIRST GOT BACK!!! <calm blue ocean> No.  As a man comes closer to his own destiny, he looks to the future of othersss.  When I’m gone I wonder... worry... about what will happen to Ssshootfire.  Who will open their new shows, when the V-man is no longer available? <pointing> JAMESSS O’CONNOR... THAT’SSS WHO!


 


This KID is the FUTURE.


 


Remember I sssaid it.  In the future, when he’s IT, know that the ssscarlet ssserpent CALLED IT.  I’m not saying I’m psssychic, <double take> I’m just saying it’s ssscary! <chuckle> During the INVASSSION, he was the ONLY guy who gave a shit about this federation.  HE _MADE_ Sssammy Knight TAP OUT... do you have ANY IDEA how hard that is?  Why when Knight was injured, he HAND PICKED O’Connor to defend the title for him.  ...And O’Connor did a BETTER job defending against Davisss, THAN Knight did! <low blow>  Yeah, look at that mug... the NEW FACE of Ssshootfire!  After what happened to Knight, we need a face lift.  You look at O’Connor, it’s not quite blue chip preppy, but it does SSSCREAM – “SPW, we have ZERO street cred.” <smirk> Hell, that could be our new ssslogan.


 


YEAH... Sssammy Knight is the possster boy we HAD.


 


Jamesss O’Connor is the possster boy we NEED. 


 


And me... <infamous sneer> Thisss <pointing> beaten, withered old face, makesss ME the possster boy you missserable FUCKSSS DESSSERVE!!!!


 


[See Vile’s an evil, selfish, asshole but he still builds up his opponents.  Oh, he took a few cheap shots at Knight, but those were tasteful by my standards.  What good does it do to beat a person you consider lower than dirt?  Vile is putting on a clinic for all the small group of asshole fans begging for his autograph.]


 


Vile Vince Viper: Ssso even though you turn into the first exciting episode of Assscension, for the sole purpose of seeing what CRAZY SSSHIT I have planned... don’t sell my boy, Jamesss, ssshort.  Dessspite his lack of experience, he has all the tools he needs to give me a run for my money, and maybe even beat me. <yeah right> Ssstranger things have happened...


 


[Looking around the small crowd, Vile has lost track who he stole this “merchandise” from... oh, here comes the teen.  Pushing forwards, VVV starts to hand the flyer back, only to catch some fine print... under the new television times, is a small plug for the upcoming spectacular Wrestlebowl... “Passing The Torch,” cute.]


 


Vile Vince Viper <shaking with rage>: ...Yeah... I like Jamesss O’Connor... he treated me with respect when no one else would... <grimace> so it’s a shame I’m going to FUCK UP his good looksss.  Sssorry Jamesss, but 3 2 the V doesn’t passssss the TORCH to anyone!  This is MY PAY PER VIEW main event, and MY TITLE we’re talking about... I should have been SSSEEDED straight into the match... of ALL the guys involved, I shouldn’t be GOD DAMNED competing to get in it.  Pietka?  YEAH, he should do SSSOMETHING to dessserve it.  Marcusss Davisss?  FUCK YEAH, he REALLY needs to do something to get in.  Marcus’ retarded brother, Andrew Davisss?  Well... <pearly yellows> He _DID_ lossse the title.  I lossst ssshit... the stipulations make NO SSSENSSSE... and sadly, because of them, I’m going to rearrange those possster boy looks of yoursssssssssssssssssssssssssss!


 


[Well, at least he’s in touch with his anger.  Vile throws the poster back at the fan, then snatches another...]


 


Vile Vince Viper <starting to sign>: Wait... Conquessst?  I’m not even appearing on that SSSHIT. <furrowed brow> You must be kind of ssstupid.


 


[A half-hearted toss sends the paper flying back at the fan, when something catches the old man’s eye.  Scaled claws rip through the air, as Viper quickly snatches back the poster.  He’s an albino, so he has pigment problems, otherwise he’d be BEAT RED... steam isn’t shooting out of his ears either, but you’re not sure if that’s part of the medical condition.  Left eye twitching as a result of his fury, Vile slowly turns back to the camera...]


 


Vile Vince Viper: What...  Is this... SSSHIT.


 


[Big banner over the card: “Night of Champions.]


 


Vile Vince Viper: The FUCK.


 


[“Night of Champions.”]


 


Vile Vince Viper: Are... are you kidding me?


 


[NIGHT of CHAMPIONS????]


 


Vile Vince Viper: ...


 


[For that little headline you get a knowing, disappointed look from The Shootfire Devil.  The fans start to disperse, many without their autographs, but not feeling comfortable with the situation.  Even the kid with the camcorder would run away, but fear keeps his feet from moving.  ...The eye of the storm.]


 


Vile Vince Viper <surprisingly calm>: ...You know... I think I handled that whole title sssstripping situation with a degree of classsss, that no one expected of me.  It took me a long time... but I’d finally matured.  I’ve grown as a perssson.  I didn’t freak out... I don’t remember even curssssssssssssssing.  Not a violent action, or a bad word, just a man accepting his fate, and taking it gracefully.  Consssidering I’m on my very BESSST behaviour...


 


...why would you teassse the dragon?


 


[Night of Champions...]


 


Vile Vince Viper: ...Isss thisss ssome sssort of JOKE?  Vile, of all the guys on the roster, we wanted YOU to headline the very first Assscensssion.  You make hissssssssssssssssssssssstory matter.  Thanks guys.  I’m touched.  You forgot to mention that the tag champions, fusssion champ, woman’sss champ, and woman’sss hardcore champ were all BUSSSY with the NIGHT of CHAMPIONSSSSSS.  We don’t need you on THAT show Vile, because we SSSTOLE your title.  You’re not a CHAMP.  Only ACTIVE champions can appear on THISSS FUCKING SSSHOW.... OH, and Andrew Davisss!  The worssst champ in the hissstory of the company, but he has a qualifying match.  I have a qualifying match too!!!  Yeah, but you’re just wressstling against James O’Connor.  LEAVE O’CONNOR ALONE!!!


 


[Bunching his fists, Vile tears the poster in half... folding up pieces and tearing them too. Throwing the scraps up into the air, VVV claws the pieces further into shreds as they float around in the wind.  The end result looks more like confetti sprinkled across the ground.]


 


Vile Vince Viper: That’s a cheap FUCKING ssssssssssshot. <flinch> I don’t mind... I’m used to it.  But think of all the other people you’re hurting with this in-joke... think of O’Connor.  This match will be the highlight of his life, and its a ssspiteful JAB at me.  How could you do this do him?  This is bad.  This is a bad sssituation, and it’s out of my control.  ‘cause now I have to kill myssself, breaking my back to make Assscensssion the more memorable of the two shows. 


 


I’ll probably hurt myself doing it, and I’ll definitely hurt Jamesss O’Connor.


 


<double take>  I’m sssorry... I’ll probably KILL James O’Connor. 


 


We’ve established that I resssssssssssspect him, even like him... and now I have to end his career.  Why would you do that to ussssssssssssssssssssss?


 


<scowl> What dicks.


 


[Shaking his head in disgust, the Scarlet Serpent slowly walks off into the night, disappearing into snow and darkness.  Left with nothing but a cold breeze, the dream comes to an end.  Panning down to the frost covered Astroturf a scrap of paper laments “Night of Champions.”]


-----

"JESTER" CHAD ALLEN

-----


[The sound of a music box plays in the darkness of the room that we have entered.  It plays a sweet tune in that sort of "pling" type of style that seemingly all music boxes use.  We can't quite tell the tune, but it echoes throughout the room.  


We get a shot of the room we are in, and see a few pieces of furniture, such as a broken lamp, and a baby crib that looks to have some sort of stains on it.  Closer inspection shows the stains to be blood, almost too obvious on the white crib.  Inside the crib lays a teddy bear, wrapped in barbed wire, a demented Christmas gift given from "Santa" to the owner of this room, "The Pretty Pretty Princess" Iris Galiver, who has not been back in her room since her accident this past week on Conquest, after taking a nasty bump onto her head, she remembers nothing about her past life, and is in fact scared of it...


A wider shot of the room shows all sorts of toys in some sort of disarray, missing heads, arms, legs, or just torn and shredded, stuffing left in a pile, things done by Iris that she would probably be disgusted at now, but WHY?  It was all just in fun...


Moving to the center of the room, we see the music box sitting in the hands of "The Jester" Chad Allen. The box has a little dancing ballerina, who just so happens to be a melted mess, probably from Iris "torturing" it with a lighter or blowtorch.  JCA is on the floor, crossed legged, staring at the box, but his eyes show that he is not actually looking, but apparently off in some other world.  We see sadness in his eyes, not something we see from JCA.  Some of his paint is even a little smeared, possibly from tears, but we wouldn't tell HIM that.]


JCA: Why, Mr. Peabody, why would see leave us?


[Jester's voice sounds of the sadness on his face.  He is talking to Iris's imaginary friend, Mr. Peabody, who we assume must also feel the loss and abandonment of Iris...]


JCA: We treated her with love and kindness, we let her maim and destroy to her hearts content, she could not...WOULD NOT just FORGET THAT.


[Sadness starts to fade, we are now seeing some anger, which works SO much better on Jester's painted face...]


JCA: She could NOT have forgotten that!  


[Jester stops for a moment, listening to Mr. Peabody]


JCA: She has not left us Mr. Peabody, she was TAKEN!  


[We have now left, sadness behind, we are now entering full on anger]


JCA: I will go to her, I will MAKE her remember, she is my Ultraviolent Bride, and NO ONE ELSE WILL HAVE HER BUT ME! 


[Jester begins to laugh a little, that evil, demented laugh that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck...]


JCA: But it is not just that we need to bring her back, we need to make the people that took her...PAY...


[The laughter becomes louder, almost more frantic, the music box in his hand now goes FLYING across the room with a BANG!  Jester rolls to his back, laughing as if he has heard the funniest joke ever told.  He is laughing so hard he has his arms crossed in front of him, holding his sides.  He gets his words out through the laughter...]


JCA: Not...just...them...but...EVERYONE!!!


[Jester suddenly stops laughing on a DIME. He quickly sits up, eyes wide, a smile of ill intent on his face.]


JCA:YES!! THAT IS IT!! EVERYONE GETS PUNISHED!! YOU TAKE AWAY MY LOVE, AND I WILL TAKE AWAY THE RULES, THE STRUCTURE!! WE MOVE TO COMPLETE AND UTTER INSANITY IN SPW!! I WILL HOLD THIS COMPANY HOSTAGE OF THE FAMILY UNTIL I GET WHAT I WANT... 



AND I WANT MY IRIS *BACK*!!!!


[Jester quickly jumps to his feet and beelines towards the door, swinging it open wide.  The light from the outside spills into the room, and now all we see is the outline of Jester as he looks out the door.]


JCA: My Children, DEATHKNELL, come to me, we shall get the Mother HOME!!!


[Out shot freezes on the outline of Jester, the sound we hear is the sound of Jester's laughter, as we slowly fade to black...]



[Rumblings... After the explosion, reality collapsed.  Maybe it was the coma... but life has been a blur.  He’s woken up in some strange places, but this certainly takes the cake.]


-----

ERICA TOUGHILL

-----


[Backstage at Conquest. Erica Toughill is cutting yer standard promo. Sheís in her warm-up gear (black hoodie, New York Yankees baseball cap with black hair tied through the loop in the back.)]


ERICA: Pity poor Poet Wright. She suddenly hits a bit of a losing skid and suddenly gets booked in a no-win situation. If she loses a match with me, sheís seen as second-rate and not worthy for a match against Heather Owens. If she beats me well, that was what was supposed to happen anyway. Not a lot going for Poet tonight, Iím afraid.


[She adjusts the utilitarian-looking belt on her shoulder.]


ERICA: As for me, itís my first title defense and I've got everything to lose. I know that thereís a segment of the population that thinks this belt is worthless. It was made for Iris Galiver and anyone else holding it is a travesty. Well, Iris is gone. Iris is dead. Iris went away. I won this belt and Angst didn't, and Nina didn't. So in the eyes of some this belt has no meaning because I'm holding it. And for Poet Wright, this match has no meaning because she wants Heather Owens.


[She cracks a rare grin, wry though it is.]


ERICA: In other words, you're a woman who deserves Cristal and instead you're getting a Pabst Blue Ribbon gutter skank like me. And as for cutting myself open.


[Erica hikes up the sleeve of her hoodie and shows the underside of her forearm to the camera.]


ERICA: I tried it once a few years ago. Itís not all itís cracked up to be. I thought you were the mighty Poet Wright who dominated the womenís division for months on end. I tune in to the last edition of ìOff The Chainî to see youíve suddenly changed into a teenage Linkin Park fan. I would be amused by you being the heavy favourite in our match if it wasnít so damn disgusting. And you have to nerve to call me boring, Poet. You stand in the middle of the ring with your dolls and your dry ice. Poet, you are Iris Galiver with asthma and a higher hair and makeup budget. You are neither precious nor unique, Poet.


[She begins counting off on her fingers.]


ERICA: You were always the one who had to be forcibly thrown into the shower after phys ed. And while the rest of us chicks were sizing up guys over lunch in high school, you were busy planning how to hold the camera at just the right angle to get this weekís MySpace profile. Trinidad is not unique for your type. Weíve all known our own Poets, weíve all pitied our own Poets, weíve all smelled our own Poets. And you say I'm boring?


[She points her index finger at her chest.]


ERICA: When I arrived here, I went hunting for freaking Iris Galiver. For KICKS. I survived three straight years of never winning a single match and now I'm suddenly holding a major title. And I've taught my German Shepard to bark in Russian, Polish, and she's getting pretty good with her Estonian. I am the Most Interesting Woman in the World.


[She removes a beer can from her hoodie pocket.]


ERICA: I don't always drink beer, but when I do, I prefer Pabst Blue Ribbon.


[She pops the can and takes a swig.]


ERICA: Hail to the Queen, baby.


[She walks off, taking another sip from the can.]

 

-----

POET WRIGHT

-----


[Fade in:

 

We open on a two-shot of Toxic Shock and the challenger to the Women's Hardcore championship, Poet Wright.  Poet is dressed in black sackcloth robes.  The hood is puddled around her shoulders and neck.  She is not wearing the mask, showing the freshly healed scars that she has dug into the ribbons of scars she already has.  The Chelsea rictus grin is smeared with black lipstick that coats her mouth and scars.  Her face is painted with white grease paint and her eyes are also coated in black, making her face an ugly skull.  Her locks are twisted around her skull into a crown.  Interwoven in the hair are wreathes of thorns.  She regards Toxic Shock with a mix of disgust and a wild, fey hunger.]

 

Toxic Shock: Poet Wright, tonight you have a chance to dethrone Erica Toughill for the SPW Hardcore championship.  I know you have not forgotten the Women's World title.   How do you feel about the opportunity for a belt that may be the measure of the toughest woman in wrestling.

 

(Hardcore wrestling is the measure of the toughest woman in wrestling?  Wrestlers protected by no disqualifications and no count outs?  How is that the toughest?  How is that better than only being allowed to use their hands and feet?  I have never needed no rules to hurt a woman.)

 

Poet: Erica Toughill is in trouble.  They're trying to distract me with this championship.  They are trying to pull me away from what is rightfully mine, the Women's World championship.  They are going to discover something, I will not be denied.

 

(Never.  Tiffany Lane gets a World title shot?  They want her to be the first four-time champion?  Never.  Heather Owens, you're just holding my belt.  Tiffany, I will never let you pass me in the record books.  Never.  I control that belt.  I control you.  You know it, Tiffany.  You know it.)

 

Poet: (staring at Shock in disgust) Next question.

 

Toxic Shock: It seems that you're pretty dismissive of Erica Toughill.  She reminds me a lot of you.  Tough, hardnosed and a great striker.  The only difference I see between the two of you is that she embraces the fans.  I'm not quite sure who you embrace.

 

[Poet's jaw twitches.  The tic forces her shoulders to her ears as she listens intently to the question.]

 

(Erica Toughill is similar to me?  That mentalist?  That ball of neuroses is similar to me?)

 

Poet: Kicking hard doesn't make someone like Poet Wright.  Erica Toughill is not hardcore.

 

Toxic Shock: Not hardcore?

 

(Not hardcore, you jackass.  Not hardcore.)

 

Poet: Has Erica Toughill outlasted the likes of Tiffany Lane?  Has she survived the mental harassment of the most evil woman in the history of wrestling and not only come out a victor, but better for it?  That's hardcore.  Tiffany Lane tried to break my mind, but she couldn't.  I beat her.  I beat her to history.  I beat her tightly reign.  I was the daughter of the Future.  Erica Toughill has done nothing of what I have done in SPW so why should I compare myself to her. 

 

[Toxic Shock opens his mouth to speak but Poet clamps her hand over his mouth, shoving her face into his as she begins to seethe with rage.]

 

(Motherfucker, you dare insult me.  I'll rip your fucking head off.  I'll tear you skull from your spine and wipe myself with your tongue.  Say something.  I dare you.  Say that she's as good as I am.  I dare you to say it.)

 

Poet: Erica Toughill has never died for a championship!  You forget that that false prophet Tommy Jackson electrocuted me to win a title from me.  She had to kill me and death couldn't stop me.  Who's hardcore?

 

(I'm hardcore, bitch.  I'm hardcore.)

 

[She rips her hand from Toxic's mouth.  She locks eyes with him, holding his gaze.  Who's hardcore?  The question is clear in her enraged eyes.  And Toxic Shock is not foolish enough to challenge her.  The ropey scars around her mouth twist into a ghastly shape.]

 

Poet: The next words out of your mouth are so vital.

 

(Erica Toughill is a pandering twat.  She can't handle me.  she doesn't have the rage inside her.  She doesn't have the hatred.  She doesn't have the goals that I do.)

 

Poet: These girls who think they're hardcore because they make other girls bleed don't understand something.  I make myself bleed!  I make myself stronger.  I make myself ... HARD!

 

Toxic Shock: You're hardcore.

 

(That's right, you bastard.  Grovel in front of me.  Grovel like the little bitch that you are.  You're all going to grovel.)

 

Poet: The Hardcore championship is my passport to the World Title.  Tell Erica Toughill that it isn't personal.  I must be about my business.  And my business is greatness.

 

[With that she pulls her shroud over her head and stalks off stage.  Toxic Shock stares after her, visibly pale.]

 

Toxic Shock: She's hardcore.

 

[Fade out]


-----

THE YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL

----


[The scene opens at the Malibu home of “The Blonde Bombshell” Tiffany Lane . More specifically, her pool. Lounging are the members of Young and Beautiful Nikki James and “Sensuous” Samantha Bevins. Nikki wears a yellow full-length sundress and silver sandals; her brown hair flowing down her back and Samantha wears a hot pink Salinas one-piece swimsuit with matching heels. Samantha's long blonde hair is piled in a bun on top of her head, her designer glasses on her face.]


Voice: Ladies!


[All eyes turn as Tiffany enters, a grin on her lips and a tray of drinks in her hand. Tiffany is clad in a slinky, red, Gucci bikini and heels, shades shielding her eyes. As she nears, she places the tray on the table and each woman grabs one. Tiffany grabs her own and takes a seat with her comrades.]


Tiffany: Samantha, I’m glad you called this last minute pow-wow together, you know, before you two have to leave. After all, we all know how Owens and her skank manager are. Those two play more games than Milton Bradley. I can only imagine what kind of sick tricks they’re cooking up to try and help that no-talent keep her title.


Nikki: They obviously don't know who they are messing with when it comes to the three of us. I mean, come on now, who possibly plays dirtier than THE founding member of The Sisterhood of Seduction. For someone who claims to be so educated, I doubt Heather and Tina have done much of their homework in SPW history.


SSB: Tina and Heather. Ugh. Would someone put those two out of their pathetic misery already? I mean seriously. I'm tired of them. It's time to move on from those raggedy bitches. They try to act as if they're on the top of the women's division when they're not. They have a belt that doesn't belong to them. So what? We're taking it this coming Conquest. We're taking it, and Tiffany is going to proudly display it around her waist. Because she's Young and Beautiful. And Young and Beautiful means you're the best. Their belt is ours, so we need not worry about fraternizing with those two low-lives ever again.


[Tiffany grins, removing her shades and taking a sip.]


Tiffany: And this time there will be no running to the referee with lies or any of their other nonsense. It will be just me and Heather in that ring. And, when I get my hands on her, I guarantee Frenchie will regret ever crossing us.


[Tiffany places her drink aside.]


Tiffany: And what’s with that idiot, Tina, asking for a handicapped tag match? I honestly thought there wasn’t another woman dumber than Kieran until that cheap trick opened her skull and came up with that nonsense.


[Tiffany lets out a laugh.]


Tiffany: She’d just better be worried about whether there’ll be anything left of Heather, after Conquest, instead of coming up with lame-brained ideas. Honestly, Samantha, hearing her foolishness makes me value you more than ever. Young and Beautiful has a manager as beautiful as she is brilliant.


SSB: Aw, thank you dear. I try. I really do. But you two are the talent of Young and Beautiful. You go into that ring each time and you always make me proud. I couldn't ask for better women to root for. As for their request for a handicap match, I have a few things in mind for those two if they begin spouting off that nonsense. But truthfully, I think Heather Owens hits a roadblock this week.


Nikki: Well Tina obviously knows the TRUE outcome of this week's match because after you are through with Heather, she'll most certainly be handicapped. They might even need to give her one of those special helmets and have her travel to Conquest on a short yellow bus.


[All three women laugh at Nikki's snarky comments. A buzzing is heard and Nikki picks up her iPhone which is vibrating on the table next to her. She looks at it.]


Nikki: Darn it. My ride is here. I really wish I could be in Charlotte for your match, Tiff but you know how it is. When Josh Schwartz calls and says "Nikki...I've got the perfect guest spot for you on Gossip Girl", it's kind of hard to turn down.


SSB: You'll do great dear. You always do.


Tiffany: Yeah, knock ‘em dead, girl! And tell Chace I said thanks.


[Nikki stands up and gives a cheek kiss to both Samantha & Tiffany.]


Nikki: Ciao darlings.


[She walks off towards the house. This leaves Samantha and Tiffany alone.]


SSB: So, Tiff, how bad are you going to whip Heather Owens? Tell me all the good news before I leave to go see Mr. Black. [smirking] He and I have some catching up to do.


Tiffany: Samantha, I plan to beat her until her face actually looks presentable. That little French-spouting tart has tainted that championship long enough. It’s long past time for that belt to regain the class and dignity it had under my reign. As it is, the SPW women’s title was a joke under Poet Wright. And I shudder to even think what people are saying now that someone as unworthy as Heather has it. It just goes from one wack-job no-talent to another!


[Tiffany makes a face and shakes her head.]


Tiffany: Thank God it all comes to an end at Conquest, when I regain what I never should have lost and restore some luster back to this division. After all, SPW needs a figurehead that it can depend on, a woman that can put asses in seats, instead of putting them to sleep with a boring, monotone voice. 


[Tiffany smirks as Samantha laughs.]


Tiffany: Heather’s days are numbered. And if Tina is stupid enough to stick her pointy, witch nose in things again, well, after I get done beating her ass, it will make her think again about wanting to step in the ring with any of us. Ever.


[Tiffany takes another sip of her drink.]


Tiffany: It’s time, Samantha. It’s _our_ time. Young and Beautiful have sat on the sidelines and watched these lesser beings gain glory long enough. Now that we are together and united, it’s time to finally take back what’s ours and re-make this division in our glorious image. 


Samantha: I’ll drink to that!


[Fade.]


-----

HEATHER OWENS

-----


When people think of historic venues in the world where are some places that people will think of?


The Forum in Los Angeles...check!


Joe Louis Arena in Detroit...no doubt


Wrigley Field or Soldier Field in Chicago...WITHOUT QUESTION!


But if you asked around and wanted to find out where certain people would aspire to go they'd name one place:


YANKEE [BLEEP]ING STADIUM!!!!


Yes folks the place that the 27 time World Champions of Major League 


Baseball call home! Is there some POSSIBLE reason that we could be here today?


What do you think?!


As we enter through the turnstiles and pan around the brand new facility that opened up last year in Major League Baseball we find Heather Owens and 


Tina Davis standing in front of the center field wall of the new facility with Heather clad in a red sports jacket, white blouse and red tie with matching slacks while Tina...well you know her gig by now right?


What could be their reason for entering the heart of “Enemy Territory” and possibly not leaving without one of them in the hospital? Why would they risk coming there when most people know their game? Judging by the grin that is on the face of Tina...I think we're about to find out!


Tina Davis – Did you think we were playing with you little girls? Did you seriously think that after you went and played the numbers game against Poet Wright that we could let it go? Take a look around at where we are. We are in YOUR backyard kids! We are here to make a statement as it pertains to SPW and you the “Young Bitches” of SPW and your no good bitch manager “The Slut” Samantha Bevins.


[Tina Walks up towards the second base on the infield along with Heather and continues speaking...]


Tina Davis – You know...when Juri and Heather asked me to come back to help mentor our young champion at first the idea was simple: Piss off every American fan that we could because they said “F**k Juri and Tina...who the f**k needs them?” and trust us when we thought about it AT FIRST we felt the same about you.


What happened? Haters in the locker room and 10 pounds of gold...THAT'S WHAT!


See Heather when she came back was starting to get “hated on” and had people thinking that she couldn't be anything in the ring. Then she started getting wins and noticed by people and then while the hate still remained she started to get the attention of people to the point that she was going to be looked at as candidate for a stable...and she did...and it was Samantha Bevins and what we thought was going to be “The Young & Beautiful”.


Samantha I'll give you this: You are a damn good mentor and motivator because you helped light a fire under Heather when the company might have turned a blind eye to her. The problem is we know now that you didn't have a handle on your faction because if you did then the one we now know as “New York's Worst” Nikki James would not be telling you who can and can't be in the group! Heather proved to the entire world that after that rejection that she COULD and WOULD become someone when after she took out the likes of people like Angst and then won the fatal four way back at Charity Carnage to win the 10 pounds of Gold around her waist now that she is for real. What we didn't expect was to see someone whom is a “3x time Women's Champion” in SPW go and prove how much of a bitch she is by joining you!


Now in a minute I'm going to hand off to OUR Women's Champion in Heather Owens and Tiffany I suggest you listen up because I'm going to let her speak for herself here and trust me when I tell you she has A LOT to say!


[Tina walks into the background as “The Prodigy” Heather Owens steps onto 2nd base, smiles and begins to speak...]


Heather Owens - Tiffany, Tiffany, Tiffany. Qu'est-ce qui dans le monde vous est arrivé ? Vous êtes allés de quelqu'un qui était sa propre femme et pourrait penser pour elle à rien d'autre qu'une marionnette sur la main de Samantha Bevins et de Nikki James. Vous DEVRIEZ avoir honte de vous pour que vous avez fait en tournant votre revers sur les fans de SPW et en agissant comme rien d'autre qu'un whiny, gâté, la petite chienne étant de connivence qui ne peut maintenant faire rien pour elle. Comment vous fait-il se sentir ?


(Tiffany, Tiffany, Tiffany. What in the world happened to you? You went from someone whom was her own woman and could think for herself to nothing more than a puppet on the hand of Samantha Bevins and Nikki James. You SHOULD be ashamed of yourself for what you have done by turning your back on the fans of SPW and acting like nothing more than a whiny, spoiled, conniving little bitch that now can't do anything for herself. How does that make you feel? )


Les livres d'histoire me disent une Tina que vous êtes un ancien 3x le champion Féministe pour SPW correct ? C'est tout bien et bon, mais mon cher que vous devez réaliser est que quand vous prenez vos valeurs, morales et éthique et les jetez de la fenêtre à la place d'être "le Tiers Le mieux" à Samantha et à Nikki comment vous fait-il se sentent ? Oui l'hun j'ai dit le TIERS le mieux parce que chacun sait en ce moment que Nikki et Samantha dirigeaient ce spectacle. L'essai de manipuler, pour dicter et comploter dans en tout cas possible de faire les choses leur voie. Vous must've ressemblé que tout le long parce que je peux vous assurer je n'ai pas vu cette arrivée!


(The history books tell me any Tina that you are a former 3x Women's champion for SPW correct? This is all well and good but my dear what you have to realize is that when you take your values, morals and ethics and chuck them out the window in place of being "Third Best" to Samantha and Nikki how does that make you feel? Yes hun I said THIRD best because everyone knows right now that Nikki and Samantha run that show. The try to manipulate, to dictate and to scheme in anyway possible to do things their way. You must've been like that all along because I can assure you I didn't see this coming!)


Et maintenant son vous et moi ne sommes pas Tiffany. Ne croyez pas que je n'aie planifié pour aucunes petites surprises que vous avez en haut votre pochette pour recevoir la ceinture qui est la propriété actuellement de moi et mes étudiants. NOUS avons collectivement travaillé d'aussi longtemps et durement que l'Équipe Olympique canadienne a fait pour recevoir leur première médaille d'or sur le sol canadien et nous n'allons pas laisser en vont non plus!


La bisbille je veux que vous pensiez à quelque chose : Vous êtes des jours purs loin pour m'être debout à travers l'anneau et voir que la ceinture tenue haut dans l'air a tenu fièrement où chacun peut le voir. Vous avez mieux être prêts à tirer chaque truc dans le livre, vous casser chaque règle devient le plus grand villainess dans l'histoire de SPW pour voler ce qui est le nôtre maintenant.


(And now its you and me isn't Tiffany. Don't think I haven't planned for any little surprises that you have up your sleeve to get the belt that is the property currently of myself and my students. WE collectively have worked about as long and hard as the Canadian Olympic Team did to get their first gold medal on Canadian soil and we aren't going to let go of it either!

Tiff I want you to think about something: You are mere days away for standing across the ring at me and seeing the belt held high in the air held proudly where everyone can see it. You have better be ready to pull every trick in the book, break every rule become the biggest villainess in the history of SPW to steal what is ours now.)


Jetez un coup d'œil autour de n'importe quelle arène à laquelle nous allons d'ici jusqu'au jour que je quitte SPW. Nous avons des fans de plus en plus femelles venant aux spectacles pour voir des LUTTEURS et pas avons mis des chiennes comme vous, Nikki et Samantha. Quand nous venons aux arènes maintenant nous voyons les fans alignés près de notre espace de parking 100, 500, 2,000 fans profondément maintenant fièrement l'agitation du drapeau de ma Province ET mon pays parce que les fans Dans le monde entier commencent à savoir qui nous sommes et apprécions que nous faisons! 


Tiffany quand vous faites attention dans l'arène dans quelques jours et vous voyez que nous nous appelons "la Mer Bleue Profonde" ou dans certains cas "la Jeunesse universitaire" le fait de vous appeler "Vilain" est assuré son parce que maintenant vous êtes devenus vilains en tête et l'esprit quelque chose que je suis devenu plus beau que vous serez JAMAIS!


(Take a look around any arena we go to from now until the day that I leave SPW. We have more and more female fans coming to the shows to see WRESTLERS and not stuck up bitches like you, Nikki and Samantha. When we come to arenas now we see the fans lined up near our parking space 100, 500, 2,000 fans deep now proudly waving the flag of my Province AND my country because the fans Worldwide are beginning to know who we are and appreciate what we do! Tiffany when you look out in the arena in a few days and you see what we call "The Deep Blue Sea" or in some cases "The Student Body" calling you "Ugly" rest assured its because now you became ugly in mind and spirit something that I became more beautiful that you EVER will be!)


Je veux partir vous avec une finale avez pensé Mme Lane et son cela :

Vous avez été une partie de SPW comme un lutteur bien plus long que moi. Vous avez atteint le haut de la montagne n 3 différentes occasions dans cette compagnie et cela DEVRAIT être quelque chose pour être fier de. Le problème pour vous est vous laissent petit jalousement le nuage votre esprit et votre coeur et maintenant quelqu'un doit devenir la nouvelle "idole" pour eux pour regarder jusqu'à. Maintenant quelqu'un doit leur montrer que son ok pour être vous, que le travail a durement ses récompenses et que si vous voulez vraiment quelque chose font mal assez alors une chose très simple... GAGNEZ-LE!


Tiffany pour l'instant presque chaque adversaire qui a marché dans cet anneau avec moi est revenu avec une qualité de défaut. Si vous voulez passer vous rapportez mieux la ceinture à Sam et à Nikki, mais il y a un ÉNORME problème :


Je.... NE VA PAS FAIRE... LAISSER... VOUS!


CLASSE... ÉCARTÉ!


(I want to leave you with a final thought Ms. Lane and its this:

You have been a part of SPW as a wrestler far longer than me. You have reached the top of the mountain n 3 different occasions in this company and that SHOULD be something to be proud of. The problem for you is you let petty jealously cloud your mind and your heart and now someone has to become the new "idol" for them to look up to. Now someone has to show them that its ok to be yourself, that working hard does have its rewards and that if you really want something bad enough then do one very simple thing...EARN IT!


Tiffany so far almost every opponent that has stepped in that ring with me has come back with a failing grade. If you want to pass you better bring the belt back to Sam and Nikki but there's one HUGE problem:


I....WON'T...LET...YOU!


CLASS...DISMISSED!)


[FADE OUT!]


-----

"SUGAR" SHAYNE GRISSOM

-----


[The screen opens to the inside of a library. There are stacks of books on each side of a large set of double doors. Next to the doors is a large poster on a stand that says "Charlotte Mecklenburg Library presents Literacy week. Today's special guest reader is SPW wrestler "Sugar" Shayne Grissom." As the camera pans around we see children of all ages sitting in a total circle around Grissom as he reads. The kids range from 4-5 years of age to even junior high students. 

Grissom can be seen reading a book about Greek mythology. The kids seem totally enthralled by his discussion as he finishes up.]


Grissom: I guess what we learn from him is to never give up on your dreams, even if it takes a long time or is very difficult. That is the one thing you all must always do...shoot for the stars and don't let anyone tell you that you can't do something because...if you want it bad enough, it will happen. I know for a fact.


Thanks a lot for letting me spend this time with you all.


[The head librarian steps forward and begins speaking.]


Librarian: I want to thank Mr. Grissom...


Grissom: Call me Shayne....you say Mr. Grissom and I start looking for my Dad.


Librarian: OK, Shayne...thanks again for coming today and sharing some of your time to talk about different characters in Greek legend and what we can learn from them today. Let's thank him kids.


[The kids erupt in a large amount of cheers, squeals and claps that would make some venues seem tame as Shayne stands to his feet and begins slowly making his way our of the child maze and toward the SPW camera crew in the far corner of the library. The Librarian continues.]


Librarian: Shayne has told me he will stay and sign autographs for those interested and also pose for some pictures with the kids if they want. That will begin in about ten minutes in the far corner of the room. We are glad you brought your kids today and hope you continue to use the facilities here at this branch and all of the Charlotte Mecklenburg Library facilities in our city.


[Another polite round of applause and kids start lining up to interact with one of the wrestling heroes as Grissom reaches the crew.]


Grissom: Hey guys, I guess they really like catching me doing stuff here and there.


[Shayne takes a peek and notices that every kid stayed and ended up in a line that now stretched to the doorway and curved around between large shelves of books.]


Grissom: How much of the event did you actually see?


Camera Guy: Not much of it. We walked in just as you were wrapping it up.


Grissom: Ahhh....it was a lot of fun and I hope the kids took a lot from it. I think with popularity of movies like the "Percy Jackson" flick, kids are interested in learning where that kind of story came from and it is even better when we can help make it real for them to get some application from it.


Camera Guy: I guess.


Grissom: You don't think so?


Camera Guy: I think when you talk a lot about fantasy myths and all that, it is hard to draw help from it for real life.


Grissom: I beg to differ, and I'll explain...


Camera Guy: Alright smart guy, enlighten me.


[Shayne chuckles before continuing.]


Grissom: Take Icarus for example. He was the son of a remarkable Athenian craftsman named Daedalus. Daedalus helped some others during a war to defeat a minotaur, which is a beast that is half man and half bull, and that landed him and his son in a pit on the island of Crete at the order of King Minos. Daedalus fashioned two pairs of wings out of wax and feathers for himself and his son. Before they took off from the island, Daedalus warned his son not to fly too close to the sun, nor too close to the sea. Overcome by the giddiness that flying lent him, Icarus soared through the sky curiously to achieve what he desired most. However, in the process he came too close to the sun, which melted the wax. Icarus kept flapping his wings, but soon realized that he had no feathers left and that he was only flapping his bare arms. And so, Icarus fell into the sea because he chased the dream of flying high.


Camera Guy: So?


Grissom: I have a lot in common with Icarus. Many times I have been given wings of wax and flew up the rankings. In ACW, I was quickly in line as a top contender for the Motor City Title. In PVW, I was in line for a Network Title shot and also had the Called Shot victory in my grasp. In ICWF, the Vingvatational Tournament and the TV Title was mine to lose. Nobody felt I had an equal in that tournament.


Each time I was given wings to fly up the rankings and make my dreams of holding championship gold come true...

they melted away.


[A look of disappointment comes across Shayne's face as he describes his personal torment.]


Grissom: In ACW, it was due to the financial problems of the league and having to cut the roster. I wasn't a political animal and so it was easy to "future endeavor" me rather than someone who had more juice. I was a rookie and it was the right decision...but it still stung.


In PVW, it was because of injury. My ribs nearly got injured so bad that my lungs were at risk because of repeated attacks from a sissy who only liked to attack from the rear. While I was out letting my ribs heal, the company sent me my release and offered to hire me back as soon as I was better. I chose not to return when they turned around and let this rope sucker turn and play the good guy. That said to me it wasn't meant to be.


In ICWF, it was because of my mentor. He bought out the company and then summarily fired me. Not because he didn't think i had talent, but because people would possibly think it was an issue of favoritism. Again, I understand, but it was the best break I had ever had and he ruined it to make himself look better when he took over. That is something he and I have still never come to terms with.


[Shayne shakes his head.]


Grissom: Each time I was on the fast track and flying high. Each time people looking from the stands saw me as the "next future...." this or that. In the end, I got to close to my sun and my wings melted to send me crashing back down to reality.


But I have never given up.


Every time I hit the sea, I found my way out...I got fixed up and I jumped right back into the ring to start my climb again. I haven't given up on my dreams of being a champion because I know that it can and will happen.


[Shayne smiles.]


Grissom: That kind of determination is healthy for kids to learn. They need to know they can achieve the things they want if they desire it bad enough and work hard enough at it. You can be a doctor if you want, you can be a lawyer, you can be a President....nothing is out of your grasp if you give it your all.


I would say in the world we live in right now, that kind of attitude is not only exceptional, but a necessity!


[Shayne looks over his shoulder as the librarian gives him the hand motion to ask him to come get started in a couple of minutes. Shayne waves and then continues talking.]


Grissom: I tell you all this knowing what is coming next for me. Once again, I've been placed on the fast track to stardom. I've beaten a couple of wrestlers and did well in the Carnage battle royal and suddenly I'm in line for a title shot.


Will my wings melt this time?


[Shayne shrugs in an almost happy-go-lucky way.]


Grissom: Who knows?


[Shayne's face now shows resolve.]


Grissom: I have a lot of respect for Barry Baldwin and what he has accomplished. The man is an all-around good guy inside the ring, in the locker room and even out in the real world away from our little sports entertainment monopoly. The guy is a picture of a return success story. He disappears for twenty years and returns to SPW and has become better than he ever was before.


[Shayne smiles a very slight, almost kid-like grin.]


Grissom: How can you NOT like this guy?


He's Brooklyn, man. Not like these fake idiots on the net and on TV. He's really Brooklyn through and through. It is his heart and the way he carries himself. He has pride in his neighborhood, whether it be back in New York or in the squared circle. He is a ring general, which means a lot to me because I'm the road agent's son. I grew up 

around the business and when my dad called someone a ring general, it was the best complement he could give somebody.


How could I NOT like Baldwin, especially knowing my Dad thinks a lot of his skills?


[The resolve is almost steely now as it returns to his countenance.]


Grissom: However respect has its place, and when I step in that ring and start going toe-to-toe with Baldwin....it doesn't mean I respect him less. It doesn't mean I wish him ill or want to hurt him in some ungodly way.


This match will be one where two men with skills step into the ring and try to better the other man one way or another. I have youth on my side, he has experience. He's the champion and I'm the challenger and many times that is the biggest difference in a match.


[Shayne pops that wide-eyed grin again.]


Grissom: Barry, I'm looking forward to meeting you in the ring and showing the world what both of us are capable of. We're going to tear the house down and have them chanting our names. I respect the heck out of you, but I'm not pulling any punches and don't expect you to do so either.


But I will make you a promise....


I'll be fair and honorable in there. I won't cheat and I won't take advantage in a way that isn't right. This is going to be a great match between us and I intend on walking out of that arena as SPW Fusion champion. I hope you bring your "A" game as well because it will be one for the career highlight reels.


[Shayne's face goes stoic again, but he raises an eyebrow.]


Grissom: Will my wings melt again this time?


[Shayne pauses as he looks around a little...then turns his attention back to the camera.]


Grissom: Not this time. Not a chance because the future is right here and right now....


[Shayne flashes that wide grin.]


Grissom: ...and it's sweeter than sugar!


[Shayne turns around and walks to the table as the kids erupt again at getting their pictures and autographs. The screen fades to black as Grissom sits down.]


-----

QUINN SCOTT

-----


[...Pulling his hood up over his mask, the former lord turns his attention back to the alter.  This will do.]



[It's a busy evening in downtown Charlotte, as many people walk up and down the sidewalk, in a constant rushed state to get to where they are going. The surrounding skyline illuminates the area with its light, blocking anyone's hopes to catch a glimpse of the stars above. Not that it would matter to many of the people hurrying by... no point in looking up when you're going straight ahead.


Except for one guy.


Quinn Scott.


Unlike the rest of them, Quinn seems to be walking down in a very relaxed pace, simply looking up at the sky, perhaps hoping to catch a slight twinkle of light. The dead-pan look on his face doesn't give any inclination towards that hypothesis, but still... he looks up. Beside him, speaking at almost a mile a minute, is Serena Black. She appears to be too wrapped up in whatever she's talking to Quinn about, but we can easily hear it has to do with Quinn's match with the former Shootfire Champion, Andrew Davis, and how this can be Quinn's chance to make it into the big time.


So naturally, it looks as if Quinn has tuned her out entirely.]



"Me? A World Champion? Not really what I walked into Shootfire to do. Some of the other attention-starved monkeys might want that. They might wanna be shoved into a spotlight and forced to do tricks like some pure-bred Chow Chow at Westminster for a little bit of blue ribbon... but me? I honestly think I'd lose my edge if I had to be put on that kind of pedistal. That would force me to fight for survival, and I don't do that."


[Quinn stops looking up for a while, and glances over at Serena, who continues to talk. She's going over Andrew Davis' fighting style, where he's strong and where he's weak, the best possible ways to counter his moves... and Quinn just doesn't seem to be paying attention to any of this.]


"She's a good kid. She's done so much for me and she's smart as hell. Still, she talks too damn much. I know it's her job, being the manager and all. She's probably the one who got me into this fight, wanted to throw something else into Marsh's face, since he felt that some kind of example needed to be made at my expense. When I think about it enough, it can be amusing. That Covington guy almost did the same thing that Frost did that ended up getting him crippled."


[Quinn looks back up, shouldering many people as he walks past since he's not really looking where he's going... but some people are either too busy to care or simply don't want to say anything.]


"I'm willing to bet they're expecting that same kind of reaction. They're probably expecting me to come at them with a full head of steam, ready to break some portion of his body, in order to remind Shootfire... again... why you don't fuck with what I do. I'd be willing to put good money on that bet, too. Ain't gonna happen, though. I got enough of a read off of that douchebag Marsh to know what he might want. He wants me to explode, but he's not going to get it. Not that I have to fight hard to keep the feeling back. I really don't feel the need to cave Covington's face in."


[Quinn snorts, loudly.]


"I won't be played like that."


Serena Black: Hey! Are you even listening to me?


[Quinn rolls his head down and looks at Serena, who has stopped in her tracks, much to the chagrin of the other people on the sidewalk. She has an irritated look on her face, as opposed to Quinn's completely blank stare.]


Quinn Scott: Hmm?


Serena: Damn it, Quinn. It's bad enough that JDM got the best of you last Conquest, but now that you have a chance for the SPW Championship, you really need to listen to what I'm saying. This could be the match that elevates you to be a real threat here.


Quinn: Crippling two men wasn't enough?


Serena: You know what I mea-


Quinn: And who said Marsh got the best of me?


Serena: He played us both, Quinn!


Quinn: No. No, he didn't. He played his game, not us.


Serena: Oh, yeah? Well who the hell do you think he used for the game pieces?


[Quinn just kinda blinks for a moment, though he tilts his head a little, almost introspectively.]


"...she has a point."


Serena: Look, that's over and done. Besides, his little sandbox is getting smaller and smaller. Soon enough, he won't have enough of it to fill a little sand-castle bucket half-way full. So, let's not worry about that for right now, let's worry about that asshole Andrew Davis. If you beat him, you could just get your hands on the Championship Belt.


[Quinn just shakes his head and starts walking again. Serena hurries along beside him.]


Quinn: You're giving me too much credit, Serena, if you really think I'm that interested in a few scraps of leather and gold-plating.


Serena: No... I know you're not interested it in, Quinn.


[Quinn stops dead in his tracks, and Serena bumps right into him. He turns around and actually looks a little confused.]


Quinn: You what?


Serena: I _know_ you aren't interested in the Championship Belt, Quinn. That really isn't the reason I got you this match. Just a welcome bonus, should you get that far. Andrew Davis thought it would be a good idea so many years ago to put me through a glass table... kind of like what you did to Angel a while ago... and I'm always looking to find ways to pay that fucker back for that.


[Serena's hands creep up onto Quinn's shoulders. She gets on her tip-toes and leans into Quinn's ear.]


Serena: I got you this match so you could keep Andrew Davis from getting back the Championship, according to his own mind, that he never lost in the first place.


[Quinn's eyes go wide as she speaks these words, the realization of what she's saying slapping him in the brain. He looks into Serena's eyes for a minute, and if it weren't for his constantly blank look, you'd probably say he was a bit dumbfounded.]


"She's a good kid. She's done so much for me and she's smart as hell."


[The corner of Quinn's mouth twitches slightly, almost into a half-smile, but Serena simply smiles wider... she knows she's struck a chord in Quinn's mind.]


Serena: You said so yourself, you don't have to punch a man to hurt him. What better way to hurt someone than to deny them their own retribution, huh, Quinn?


[Quinn doesn't answer, but his right hand does find its way onto one of Serena's. He gives her hand a light squeeze before dropping it again. He turns around and starts walking again. Serena, getting used to Quinn's pattern of behavior, simply catches up and starts talking about Davis and the best ways to deal with him again.]


"And just like that, she shows exactly how amazing she can be. She's right. I have the ultimate chance to hurt someone. Not just someone, but someone who's actually been cheated out of something that's theirs. Andrew Davis lost his belt because of Sammy Knight, and even though no one allowed Vince Viper to keep the belt because of it, Davis still lost it. He wants his property back, and I have the chance to out-right deny him that. And he's probably upset. Angry. Distraught. Pissed-off to all hell. Ready to plow through everything and everyone in order to get back what was taken from him... because everyone else wants it as badly as he does."


"...everyone but me."


"The belt isn't a priority for me. I highly doubt if it ever will be. But hurting people? That's always on my agenda. Andrew Davis has the absolute most to lose going into this, and that is an incredibly invigorating thought. He will be desperate, but also determined. He wants his belt back, but he has to go through me to do it. He has to know that I'm more interested in keeping him from it than I am the Championship itself. Hell, if he can find another way to it, he can have that symbol. But to deny him that symbol? To see him suffer? To hear him whinge and cry in anger and agony?"


"That is the far sweeter prize to me than any silly symbol."


"I would have denied a desperate man his vengeance."


"What greater pain is there than that?"


[As Quinn continues to walk with Serena, he actually appears to be listening intently to her words and advice. As they move on down the sidewalk, the camera pulls further and further back until it pans upward to the night sky... and we manage to see a single star, twinkling oh-so-softly, in the light-polluted sky.]


-----

ANDREW DAVIS

-----


[A fire crackles and burns.  A leather chair sits in front of a wall of books.  Andrew Davis sits in the chair, dressed all in black.  The light from the fire flickers across his dark brown eyes.]


Davis: I’ll be honest.  I rarely care what others think.  In a time when digesting one’s thoughts and feelings are rejected for an instant response, with internet message boards the strongest argument against evolution since Massachusetts voted for the Paul Brown, someone at my advanced level must decide when to listen to the abyss of insanity and inanity.


But after the Shootfire World title entered a state of limbo, I allowed myself to dive into the thoughts of the screaming horde.  Some believed that I deserved everything that happened to me.  Some believed that I should, “bust a cap in Sammy Knight’s ass.”  Some wrote in a language that used to be English, but is rendered entirely indecipherable.


While I accepted their thoughts and their emotions, I have to face the facts of the situation.  The facts are this: every title that I have held in Shootfire Pro has been stripped from me through forces outside my control.


Exhibit A: The World Title.  Three times I have captured Shootfire’s most prestigious title, three times I have had it taken from me.  Once in a three-way match where I was not pinned or submitted.  Once I played the company man, delivering the title to the next chosen one before taking a lengthy hiatus.  And now, a clusterfuck of epic proportions leads management to come up with a fantastic idea: strip me of the title, the rightful owner.


Exhibit B: Every other title I have held in my illustrious history in Shootfire.  The Diamond?  Unpinned in a three-way match.  The Tag Team Titles?  Declared defunct.  The Platinum title?  Stripped to create the Fusion title.  Once is tragedy, twice is coincidence, more than that is conspiracy.


But no, do not worry.  The Andrew Davis of 2009 is staying in 2009, just like Spooky Doom’s Shootfire career.  2010 need not fear the actions of a vengeful god.  Because of my perspective, I understand what has happened.  Why I have been taken advantage of.


Throughout my career, the forces that be have looked down at me.  I am not the traditional superstar.  I didn’t enter the scene and set the world on fire.  My physique is not enhanced by steroids.  I am gimmickless, ignoring the advice of many to appeal to the lowest common denominator to raise my profile.  Time and time again, panic has set in amongst management.


Andrew Davis isn’t the perfect wrestler.  He isn’t the man we want representing our organization.  He doesn’t draw.  The fans don’t like him.  We don’t want a lightweight as our champion.  Regardless of his resume, we’ll give him a low seeding in our King of the Cruisers tournament.  Andrew Davis is not ideal.


Time and time again.  Different people in the same position have the same thought: we don’t want Andrew Davis.  Kieran Rae, Ethan War, Gideon Cain, JDM Superstar, A.J. Black – from the very first day that I was offered the a minor league contract with Killzone instead of Shootfire, I’ve understood others’ perceptions of me.


[A sly smile.]


Davis: But like I mentioned, I rarely care what others think.  When I win titles fair and square, pinning Sammy Knight in the middle of the ring, pinning AsH in the middle of the ring, standing tall at the end of a Thunderdome Cage match, pinning Dan Broussard, since 2004 I have been at the top at Shootfire Pro not because I was appointed, not because I was voted, not because I was focus grouped.


I stand at the top of Shootfire Pro because I have earned it through blood, sweat, and tears.  Perfection cannot be taken because it isn’t given.  I don’t care what others think because it doesn’t affect me.  I am what am I.  Andrew Davis is AD3, not because I say I am, but it is the undeniable truth.


Andrew Davis is the past, present, and future of Shootfire Pro.  Not Marcus Davis, stopping in from Japan for an extended holiday.  Not Dave Pietka, who’s abandonment of Shootfire last year highlighted the lack of dedication he possesses.  Not Quinn Scott, a castoff from the defunct Tri-State Wrestling Federation, with his association with Serena Black, whose track record is similar to that of Wall Street’s.


One would think that accidentally putting her through a glass table a few years back would convince her to find a new field for employment, but she demonstrates the same persistence, stubbornness, and failure to success ratio as her old man.  A.J.’s in hiding in South America, right?


[Andrew looks at the fire.]


Davis:  Sammy Knight, Vile “Vince” Viper, Jakob Volga, “Jester” Chad Allen, JOC, JPC, Edward, the Shark, Chance, “Old Man” Baldwin, and the many that I have missed.  It doesn’t matter whether they are in this “World Title Tournament,” in the Women’s division, or an old man looking for one more title to validate his putrid career and shuffle off to the grave – I am better.  I can’t hide it, and I can’t deny it.


I can’t apologize for what others think of me.  I won’t apologize for who and what I am.


My name is Andrew Davis.  I am the once and future champion of Shootfire Pro.


[Andrew turns back from the fire, smiling at the camera, no emotion on his face.  Fade to the flames.]


-----

SWAGGER & DESIRE

-----


[Fade in: 


Backstage, Toxic Shock finds the members of Swagger and Desire, Marissa Monet and Eddie Christian, in deep discussion before their match.  Marissa is down on one knee, dressed in her wrestling gear.  She is playing with a Marissa Monet SPW action figure <TM> as Eddie looks on, amused.  Marissa tags out her toy self to a toy of Eddie Christian on the apron.  She picks up the Christian doll and launches him through the air onto a supine toy of Chance Fortuna.  She slaps the ground three times.]


Marissa: Game. Set.  Match.  We're still the champs.  How's that sound? 


Eddie: Well while you are playing with your toys, I'm thinking about hitting up Club Stir or maybe the Sunset Lounge..victory celebration ya know?

 

Marissa: (laughing)  And you can't invite me?  What kind of partner are you?


Toxic Shock: Excuse me, uh, Eddie, Marissa, can we get some words from you before your World Tag-Team Title match with Chance Fortuna and Rich Patterson?


Marissa: Can you get some words?  It's possible.  May you?  Well, that's up to Eddie, isn't it? 


Eddie: Sorry Toxic.. I prefer Mandy Appleton or Tara Silver..maybe Tiffany Lane.. ya know.. some eye candy, but since you're here..what earth shattering questions could you possibly have for us? 

 

[Marissa scratches her head in bewilderment.]

 

Marissa: (under her breath) He really does love those Beckys.


Toxic Shock: Are there any tensions between you as a result of Chance's evidence that Eddie Christian has turned on every partner he has ever had?  How can you two be on the same page.  You mu st be having doubts.  


Marissa: Doubts?  I've walked through fire with this man.  Chance Fortuna can say whatever he wants about Eddie Christian.  Hell, he can say whatever he wants to about me.  It's not going to work.  I'm a two-time SPW champion and I've learned from my days in the Black Mass to recognise a snake wh en I see one.  I don't see one in Eddie Christian.  I see a good man, a true man ... a competitor.  That's what I see.  I see my partner, a Shootfire soldier.  I know he's got my back.  And I'll have his.  Ask Team ... EEEEEGOOOOOOOO!!!!!! About trust.  Didn't they think that Eddie and I wouldn't be on the same page.  How wrong were they?  They were championship gold wrong.  In this business labels have a way of following you around and you have nothing to do with it.  It's just the way everything gets interpreted, but Chance has to argue that Eddie's going to turn on me because without trying to plant that seed of doubt there's no way for him to win.  He doesn't have the talent.  He doesn't have the heart.  When it's gut check time and he realises that neither of us will quit then what's going to happen?


Eddie: Why is this still a topic? Apparently someone - a career stalker- has nothing better to do but use my name and rise to success to get his fifteen minutes in the spotlight. And like parasites the press latches on to it and wonders when back-stabbing Eddie is going to victimize poor lil Marissa. It's old, you guys wanna see me turn on someone, go replay that video.. otherwise I'm moving on to the next..and so should everyone else.


Marissa: (slapping her hand across his back) This man right here is a born Champion.  He's the Swagger.  I'm the Desire.  Together we just get things done.  And our first order of business is to restore the lustre to the World Tag Team championship.  Tell them what it means to you to be a champion, Eddie.



Eddie: Who's giving this interview you or him?

 

Marissa: Well, him, technically, but I'm better at it, I think.

 

Eddie: (ignoring her) Marissa wants me to say is I love being tag champion with her and it's a honor to win my first SPW accolade, but the truth of the matter is.. I've been down this road before, just a different federation. It's no different, nothing special..just an added boost to my pay check along with a couple of more perks that I am so quick to take advantage of. However I realize that I am a representation of this company and 1/2 of it's best tag team, and if a makeshift team of greedy two-bit rejects think they are going to end the reign with ease and comfort..they're about to be kicked back to reality.


Marissa: See, there's that Swagger.  And me?  You know the world is just too small for my dreams.  So winning the SPW World Tag Team Titles for the second time means a lot to me, because I know people don't believe in me.  They don't believe that I can compete in a ring with a man, but I know I can.  I know I can do two things with this belt.  I can be the best teammate in the World and I can be the World Champion.  I'm going to get two belts.  One draped over this shoulder.  [She points to her right shoulder] And one draped over this shoulder.  [She points to her left.]  And I won't go swimming because I'll surely drown.  


Toxic Shock: What?


Marissa: That's the Desire in me.  There's a chance for me to go to WrestleBowl and compete for the World Championship.  Tonight, I'm going to show that I am the best tag-team wrestler in the World.  I'm going down in history as the greatest of all-time ... male or female.  I am that Alpha Bitch.  This is that Alpha dude.  But first things first ... Chance Fortuna and Rich Patterson.  Tonight.

 

Eddie: Chance Fortuna is a third class competitior, someone who's only edge in the wrestling world is that little hoax of a talk show he hosts where he tries to belittle his "guests" but only makes a fool of himself. It never fails, he's like a broken record. One that SPW keeps giving the time of day when he and his segment should've been left of the floor in the editing room. Chance Fortuna is an opportunist, he's not about the movement of the new age. He's no Shayne Grissom, Team EGO, James O'Connor, or myself and Monet.  He will never have his own success because he's too busy trying to ride off the coattails and come up off the success of others. Track back to AsH's return..there was Chance Fortuna. And the act that he pulled against James and Barry on the last show comes will a heavy price, and his head will suffice.

 

Toxic Shock: What about Rich Patterson?

 

Marissa: Rich Patterson only knows one direction.  Straight ahead.  He's a devastating force in that ring.  He's the biggest, strongest competitor and the Near Life Experience is a devastating finisher, but he's dumb as a box of rocks.  He just goes straight forward trying to bull through you.  He can't hit what he can catch.  We're smarter.  We're faster.  And we've got too much Swagger and Desire to be beaten.  Hey, we're going on to glory and Rich and Chance are going back to the drawing board.  Any more questions?

 

Toxic Shock: ....

 

Marissa: No more questions it seems.  I can end the interview, right Eddie?

 

Eddie: Actually yeah..Tox is boring..he didn't even ask me how my day was going. Plus I have to go potty.

 

[Fade out]

 
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