_________________________________
BLAKE COVINGTON
O T C
__________________________________
"In some point in life, we are all assured of being one of two things: Lucky or Unlucky. That's what my father told me once."
(With those words spoken, we find ourselves inside a very luxurious suite somewhere in downtown Atlanta. Various fragrances are in the air of different perfumes, musks and colognes. It comes quickly obvious that some sort of party has taken place just mere hours ago. Candles all over the place remain lit, as their flames continue to flicker in the bright light of the room. The cameraman walks around the corner of the living room over to the wetbar, as the ice bucket only contains a few melting pieces of ice, as various empty bottles of liquor surround the alcoholic surroundings.)
(A little further ahead, we find a black Yamaha Grand Piano sitting by its lonesome, with an empty Appetizer platter lying face down upon the floor. Standing next to the piano is Covington, his face turned away from us, staring out the window at the dark Georgia night. Wearing a suit coat and dress slacks, Covington slowly swirls his wine glass around in his right hand, as he continues to speak......)
"For years, I firmly believed what my Father had told me. Remember the Golden Rule. Turn the other cheek. Hard work never goes unnoticed. You get the picture. And for the longest time, I followed those words of advice........but recently, I realized something."
"My Father's advice was full of shit."
"Now you may be asking yourself just exactly how Blake Covington came to this realization? Well, in order to know the answer to that question, sometimes you have to go all the back to the beginning."
("I was born and raised in Southeastern Missouri near the Boothill, and around there, your wealth isn't determined by how much money you have or how fancy your cars are or how big your house is. It's determined by the amount of cattle you own. Or the successful size of your soybean crop. Or how---well, you get the picture. Down there, you're in farming country. And if you ain't a farmer working out in the blazing sun and busting your ass, you're practically a nobody."
(Blake sits down on the couch and continues his story.)
"Every summer as a teenager, I worked in the hay fields from sun up to sun down, throwing hay bales, which jumpstarted my muscular frame. It was hard work and paid $200 a month, but for a 14 year old, that's alot of money. In high school, I played Defensive End and Tight End on our football team and I was eventually blessed to go to college on a football scholarship. And it was while I was in college is that something hit me: I was finally on the path of doing something successful with my life that didn't involve 4am wakeup calls or blistering sunburns. I just didn't know at the time that it wouldn't be as a result of playing football, but rather for wrestling."
(Blake stops to slowly run his tongue against the front of his upper teeth, as his eyes glare with disgust and malicious intent.)
"A talent scout spotted me at a school's wrestling match and signed me to a developmental contract for a wrestling organization based out of Las Vegas. Within weeks after signing, I found myself in the middle of a wrestling ring, not knowing what in the hell to do. But just like in life, you just gotta roll with the punches and do the best you can. And I did. And it wasn't before too long that I finally figured out what I was doing and I felt confident in my own abilities. And so did managment and the fans. But it was yet also in that moment that I made a fatal mistake."
"I did what the fans wanted to see. And I got hurt. Bad."
Blake turns around and looks at the camera, with a 'Holier than Thou' sneer on his face. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned and his grey tie is loosened around the neck, almost enough to remove and yet keep the bow intact. He swallows the last of the wine from his glass before placing the empty goblet on the piano. As he walks towards the leather couch in the living room, he continues to speak.)
"And I paid the price dearly. A broken left clavicle and shoulder blade. All because of the fans. I remember sitting at home in my recliner, listening to Ric Beauty tell me on the phone, 'Don't worry Blake. we will take care of you. You have nothing to worry about. We will get you back on your feet and into a wrestling ring as soon as we can. I promise.' And the days went by. And I waited. Weeks passed. And I waited again. Months drifted by and yet nothing. Until one morning when I read the following headline on PWInsider.com"
"Vegas Xtreme Ceases Operations Immediately. Beauty Brothers to sell all existing assets."
(Blake silently gives a half hearted chuckle and shakes his head.)
"I cussed Ric Beauty not only for lying to me but for also forgetting about me. I cursed those god damned fans there at the arena that evening for pushing me to that moment of no return. And worst of all, I cursed myself for living my life based upon what I had heard as a child from my Father. Because it was in those moments of silence all alone in my apartment, for all those days and weeks and months of solitude, it became evident to me that all this time, my own Father had placed seeds of mistruths, lies and deceptions into my soul. And I hated him for it."
(Blake baby blue eyes flicker with fire, as he watches the fireplace continue to burn.)
"The Golden Rule could be broken. Turning the other cheek was pointless when the other side was just as bruised as the first side. And obviously my hard work DID become unnoticed. Or so I thought. Because not too long ago, a man took a huge risk and called me, asking me to come to Shootfire Pro. And that man is none other than Jeffrey Dylan Marsh. JDM told me that regardless of what took place in Las Vegas and regardless of how Ric Beauty sold me out and casted me off to the side, he STILL saw something in me through my bitterness and hatred towards the fans: Potential and Promise. He said that time had not run out on me. He said that I had not yet begun to achieve my full potential. He said I WOULD be the next big thing in Shootfire, as long as I went under his wing. He guaranteed that he could and would take me to great heights that nobody had ever thought possible, and all because he was the man that could make it happen. Not Kieran Rae. Not Steve Greedy. And definitely not Gideon Cain. But JDM Superstar himself."
"Hell, there hadn't anybody give two shits about me in six months, so why not take JDM up on his word? After all, when JDM speaks, people always listen. So here I am, in this lavish Atlanta suite, partying up with JDM and Jean Pierre and all the ladies, and the whole time I'm dancing and partying, I can't help but wonder why in the hell I didn't do this sooner."
"Which brings me to you, Jakob Volga."
(Blake turns and looks at the camera.)
"You see Volga, it's people like you that make me sick to my damn stomach. You march in here, declare for the 9389th time that you're back and you're the next World Champion. You return for the paycheck and another 15 minutes of fame. And then what happens next? You disappear. Again. You come back and talk up a big game, another paycheck, and another 15 minutes then POOF!!!! Gone. Like the smoke from a lit cigarette."
(With his left arm resting upon the back of the couch, Blake looks off to the left at the burning fireplace, his mind obviously lost in thought, perhaps to the night of his horrific injury.)
"And what happens to the rest of us? We have to sit back on the sidelines and wait for people like you to leave again only to find out that you've done nothing but steal and stripmine the company for all you can, leaving NOTHING but potholes and ditches for us to fix. And before we know it, you come up from behind, kick us in the hole that YOU created, only to bury our asses so you can collect your next 15 minutes of fame and more money. And what happens to the ones that manage to crawl out of your hole? We get ignored because YOU have all the attention once again."
"Just like when I was on the sidelines in Vegas, I had not one but TWO doctors medically clear me to return. And what happened? I stayed home and watched two washed up members of the geriatric society named Werewolf Gregorson and Travis LaGrange march right into Vegas and do what you're doing now: steal someone else's spotlight, collect their paycheck, and leave in the middle of the night without anybody knowing."
"I stayed home and watched a psychotic bitch named Allison DeTourre win the VXW TV Title in her Vegas debut. And I saw somebody pulled out of the bottom of a fucking puke bucket named Wild Bill Ian run away with the 24-Hour Title. And instead of being in the ring putting Werewolf and Travis in a nursing home and telling Allison to get her skanky ass back in the kitchen to finish my damn dinner, I was home.......being 'taken care of'. No. I was being forgotten because of political potholes and open graves."
(Blake stands up and walk towards the fireplace, his face turned away from the camera.)
"Nobody can take away what you have accomplished here in SPW, Jakob. And nobody can deny that SPW isn't what it is today, because of you. BUT what you have to realize Monday night is that this young lion is hungry. And I'm sick and tired of having leftover scraps and tiny nibbles off of the carcass. I want to hunt down an animal and feed on it.....all by myself. And if I have to eliminate you in the process to be considered the real threat to the Pride, then so be it."
(Leaning up against the right side of the mantlepiece, Blake turns and looks at the camera.)
"I'm not gonna march in here and make all sorts of declarations and predictions and threats. I'm not gonna predict that by years end, I will be the SPW World Champion. And I'm not gonna tell you that I am greatest wrestler in the world today. Words can only get you so far in life, until you start letting your actions make the declarations for you. But what I will tell you Jakob is that after Monday night, the way that YOU view yourself and the way that you view me will permanently change. For on that night Jakob Volga, you will be the one who is unlucky."
(With a cocky look of confidence on his face, Blake's face beams of confidence.)
You may be Heartless, but I don't give a damn. My name is Blake Covington, Jakob. And no matter how HARD you try..........I will ALWAYS be that. much. better."
(Fade to black.)
_________________________________
"HEARTLESS" JAKOB VOLGA
O T C
__________________________________
HJV: Just COULDN'T start me off small, couldja?
[The voice is the infamous "Heartless" Jakob Volga, who is sitting on his Harley Davidson Motorcycle, somewhere in the outskirts of Atlanta. The weather has is not totally agreeing with the big man being on his bike, but his trademark leather jacket seems to be doing a good job of keeping him warm.]
HJV: What, Colt Montana was busy for my return match?
[A chuckle at HJV v. Montana...]
HJV: Oh well, I wouldn't really have it any other way, I like having a challenge to come into, save the tomato cans for the next flavor of the month, I am the real damn deal, and I don't want Blake to think for a moment that he is going to be entering in against some tired, old, rusty jabrone that is trying to get that one last glimmer of hope.
[Volga turns, flashing the word "HEARTLESS" along the back of his jacket.]
HJV: By no means, big man. You are stepping into the ring with the one and only "Killing Machine", Jakob Volga, and just because I haven't been seen in an SPW ring, don't think I haven't been in a RING lately. Hell, the way Kendra spends, I HAVE to have money coming in, or I'd be on the street.
[Another chuckle, probably a good thing his wife isn't here to hear that crack...he continues..]
HJV: I'll be honest, Blake, I don't know a whole hell of a lot about you other than your impressive stature, and your connection to the Power Syndicate. Your size is impressive, not many people stand eye to eye with DEATHKNELL, but POWER....
[The look goes serious...]
HJV: Not so much. You see, I've done the whole "Strength in Numbers" thing before, with what I feel was a much more talented group of people than the morons and suck ups you are running with now. The Black Mass was IT for a while in SPW, but even THAT didn't get me what I ultimately wanted, which was RESPECT...
[Jakob looks out at the scenery for a moment, a cold breeze can be seen cutting through the trees.]
HJV: And that you have to get on your own. So I hope that when our match comes up this week, that you will leave the POWER in the back, I doubt you will need them, or more correctly, I doubt they will really do you any good, because strength in numbers doesn't scare me, doesn't intimidate me. Hell...few things do. But if you come into that ring, by yourself, and ready to give it all you got in a one on one fight against me, well then you will earn something that is only slightly harder to get than a win over me...
You will get my respect.
And since you won't be getting that win, that isn't a damn bad thing to have. See you in Atlanta...
[And with that, the Harley roars back to life. Jakob straps on his half helmet and sunglasses as he rides off on the road again.]
__________________________________________________________________________
_____SPW_________________________________________________________________
V/O: For over ten years and going strong... SHOOTFIRE PRO WRESTLING has
provided the most cutting edge high impact sports entertainment in the world
today-
[The scene changes to a clip from the first ever SPW PPV Halloween Scream
where Shootfire wrestlers battle inside a Steel Thunderdome Cage on fire!
Dylan Dice, with his back on fire is just about to grab the SPW Heavyweight
Championship, but "Flaming" Bob Muretic, literally on fire, hanging from
the outside of the thundercage, grabs the belt a split second before Dice
and falls off of the side of the cage in a burning mass as Dice falls down
to crash to the canvas! The crowd screams, as Flaming Bob becomes the very
first Shootfire Pro Wrestling Heavyweight Champion!!!]
Steve Stone: And your winner, and SHOOTFIRE PRO HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION....
"FLAMING" BOB MURETIC!!!
"God told me! I've already Got the Life..."
Mike Waldrop: Kill, or be Killed!!
[Roddy Taylor, AntiGod, The Stallion and Nick Payne are brawling on a wooden
scaffolding high above the ring as then-commissioner Jack Macmillian's hooded
thugs in The Dominion chop the supports down with axes, causing all four
wrestlers to plummet to the ring below!!!!]
GB: CYA Lata SUCKAS!
"Welcome to the jungle, Watch it bring you to your-
It's gonna bring you down-HA!"
[Jeff Keenan jumping off a steel ladder hitting the "Quicktryke" Snake eyes
legsweep on Vile Vince Viper all the way down through a glass coffee table,
glass flying everywhere in a tremendous crash as Keenan and VVV are covered
in shards and blood, Chicago rising to their feet in the HCW Arena!!]
JPV: All Eyes on Me!!
Adam Cage: Because I'm Adam Cage- and you're not!!!
[Vile Vince Viper has Corey Irons pinned with a back suplex as both wrestlers
lay with shoulders on the mat in a cage that just expoded sending drifts of
smoke throughout times square, the 5 Phases of Death Match having counted down
to a mega explosion! At the last possible second, Irons kicks out to win the
SPW Trophy Cup at the conclusion of the Shootfire: Violent Ascension Tour!]
Sabbath: I am the Devil... and I'm here to do the Devil's Work!"
AsH: CAN YOU FEEL IT!?
"I'm not trying to make a difference"
[At Iconoclasm, AsH slams his chest and yells SPW before diving off the buckle
with the Air Rage! He leaps into a full arc and spins downwards to spread his
arms and spin like a tornado before driving his shoulder into the chest of
Adam Cage! AsH rolls off as Andrew Davis sails through the air in a 540
Degree Swanton Bomb!! Andrew crashes into Cage as the fans stand throwing
their arms up, AsH and Davis celebrating in the center of the ring!! The fans
cheer out and AsH immediately turns to strike his friend upside the jaw with
the T3 Superkick, pinning him but Andrew gets his foot under the bottom rope!]
Gionet: It's not about how or why-
"I bleed it out, dig it deeper just to throw it away!"
[As AJ Black yells out, banned wrestler Darin Kisler stabs Steve Greedy in the
calf, plunging a knife into his leg! The audience screams in horrified rage as
Black stands over Greedy, yelling down and Kisler puts a dollar bill in a cut
on Steve's arm, then sets it on fire to burn a cauterized wound in his flesh!!]
Gionet: It's all about Do, or Die!
Biz: Nothing personal- it's just Bizness!!
"What if I say I'm not like the others? What if I say I'm not just another
one in your place? You're the pretender, what if I say that I'll never surrender?!"
[Gionet flies up into the air as time slows down and at the height of his arc
his image changes into that of AsH! AsH starts to drop and twists to spread
out his arms, twisting downwards in slow motion to shoot out his arms for the
Skytwister Press as he suddenly morphs into Scott Starring! Starring rips his
legs upside down to fly out into the Shooting Star Press! As he falls he turns
into a twisting dive of black changing right into Despair as he flips into a
Corkscrew Moonsault!! Despair spins to change into Sammy Knight who lands the
Ghetto Stomp straight into a wrestler's back The Biz drives down through the
mat with a Kudoh Driver!!!]
EVD: IT'S... SHOWTIME!!!
"He said yeah you better come out with, both hands up we got you surrounded"
Shane Diamond: TEEEEEEAAAAAM!!!!
Owen Cage: EEEEEEEEEEEEGGGOOO!!!
Sammy Knight: BLOOD IN... BLOOD OUT!
Andrew Davis: Welcome to the Age of Andrew Davis!
[Sammy Knight is held up on the shoulders of the Shootfire Locker room as he
celebrates at Wrestlebowl with his world title win, wiping tears of joy from
his face as his son Darrion looks on, joined by the raucous crowd, the cheering
seventeen thousand fans in Vegas and the millions watching around the word
enjoying his victory!!!]
"S! P W!!!" "S! P W!!!" "S! P W!!!" "S! P W!!!" "S! P W!!!"
Vile "Vince" Viper: AND HE SAW THAT IT WASSS GOOD!
V/O: Shootfire Pro Wrestling: Set the World on Fire!
_______________________________________________________
Shootfire Pro Wrestling Proudly Presents...
SPW: OFF THE CHAIN!!!
_______________________________________________________
["The Fame" by Lady Gaga plays over the loudspeakers. The crowd begins to boo as "Sensuous" Samantha Bevins, the executive assistant, walks onto the stage. Samantha smiles smugly, placing her right arm on her hip. She is dressed sharp tonight, as always. Samantha walks to the ring, ignoring the rustling fans. She climbs into the ring and under the second rope and grabs a microphone as the music slowly dies out.]
SSB: Ladies and gentleman, I know you know absolutely nothing here in Atlanta, Georgia, so I'll lay it all on the line for you. Yes that's right. You... know... nothing!!!
[CROWD BOOS!!!!!!!]
SSB: I've heard time and time again how the tag team scene could use a facelift, so I went and found some overseas talent that is going to have you on the edge of your seats. Please allow me to introduce to you the team of Kisaragi!!!
[Samantha points to the back. A pop of sizzler pyro hits at the cue of furious Japanese heavy metal - "What's Up People" by Maximum the Hormone. A pair of bare-chested, sweaty men blast through the curtain to a mixed crowd reaction. The Japanese partner is stout but muscled, loose-fitting shiny blue vinyl pants with silver and black flares at the cuff where they cover black boots. The other looks to be eastern European, very high brow line, in black spandex tights with "Flying Rehnquist" emblazoned down each leg, "FR" at the ankle of the boot. The pair fist-pump to the audience, trying to win over the aisle-seat fans as they high-five their way quickly down to the ring. A speedy roll under the ring ropes, and they're proudly standing akimbo next to the executive assistant in the center of the spotlights. "Sensuous" Sam offers the microphone to the Japanese half of the tag team. He leans into the microphone and, breathy from excitement, expounds in very broken English.]
ONO: ONO, I am here! I am here, ONO! I come from far away Japan for TAGU! TEAMU! GLO REE!
[The smile on ONO HEZONFAIA's face could not be beaming any wider as he shakes his clasped hands above his head in gratitude to the fans. Well, the portion of the fans that are cheering rather than booing, anyhow. The balding white guy leans in for his moment, and pours out with a very thick-tongued Slovenian accent.]
FR: We stand erect before you, ready for to grapple your American waists!
[Giggles and jeers from the crowd, and a drunken fan in the front row yelling sexist comments at Sam Bevins as she takes control of the microphone and the situation once more.]
SSB: Now, Kisaragi, I do want to show you what our tag division DOES have to offer, so I'm giving you a match with two of the most brutal and twisted creatures on the Shootfire roster.
[She steps to a corner of the ring, and gestures toward the curtain.]
SSB: SEND IN THE CLOWNS!
[Thus spoken, so it shall be done. "Sensuous" Samantha Bevins takes her time stepping out of the ring, nodding and smiling down the ring steps as Manson hits the speakers and Children of Hardcore stomp
through the entryway. The Children run to the ring and as soon as they hit the ring they begin throwing punches!!]
______________________________________________________
CHILDREN OF HARDCORE vs KISRAGI
OTC
______________________________________________________
***DINGDINGDING!***
Tara: Anarchy and Entropy wasting NO time laying into ONO HEZONFAIA and the Flying Rehnquist with hammering overhead blows! Kisaragi rallying quickly, though, and powering the Children of Hardcore to the corners. Referee aiming to restore order and get this match going with only two men inside the ropes, it looks like we'll be starting with Entropy and the Japanese newcomer, ONO HEZONFAIA.
Vik: What kind of a name is that, anyhow? Did his mother marry an American soldier with a bad sense of humor and a fake ID?
Tara: It's no stranger a name than Anarchy or Entropy, is it?
Vik: Point to you, sir. And look at the action! Entropy is charging right in to ONO HEZONFAIA with a big boot aimed high to the face...
Tara: CAUGHT AT THE ANKLE by ONO, hip to the groin and a hand shove on the chest takes the big six foot eight monster to the canvas!
Vik: Did we just see a technical Judo throw here in SPW?
Tara: I think we did! ONO HEZONFAIA making a fine start to his SPW career, now running for the quick tag to his partner, the Flying Rehnquist.
Vik: Rehnquist is aiming to live up to that nickname awful quickly in the match, climbing to the top rope - Amazingly executed tuck 450 somersault splash!
[MAJOR CROWD FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!eleventybang!]
Vik: The fans have finally made up their minds here tonight. BOOM goes the dynamite, the crowd roars its approval!
Tara: The Flying Rehnquist with a lateral press going for the early cover,
1!
2!
NOOOO, Entropy is NOT going to be put down that easily. He's sitting up, already to his knees and got the flailing member of Kisaragi trapped across his chest. Standing up, just hefting the body of
another man in those massive arms of his!
Vik: I'd get put on disability if I tried that even once, but the freakish strength of the big man Entropy makes the Flying Rehnquist look lighter than a sack of stuffed gerbils!
Tara: Flinging him like a sack of... what did you just say? FALLAWAY SLAM sends Rehnquist hard to the mat.
Vik: Entropy immediately to his feet, dropping some boots to the newcomer! But while he's busy stomping a mudhole into that lily-boy, Rehnquist's partner is in the ring and on the second rope already.
Tara: ONO torpedoes himself into the back of the gorilla with a flying forearm!
Vik: If Tito Santana can have the Flying Burrito, what would you call this? The Aerial Assault Spring Roll?
Tara: Entropy knocked face-first into the corner, ONO making a hasty exit before the referee gets involved. REHNQUIST following up with a Stinger Splash to the back of Entropy! Waistlock and a reverse rollup by the Flying Rehnquist, Kisaragi getting ambitious in their debut match.
1!
2!
Vik: Entropy kicking out, logrolling back to his corner to tag in Anarchy! Now, mind you, as big as Entropy may be, Anarchy is hardly an undersized fellow himself.
Tara: Unlike some certain broadcasting partners I could mention.
Vik: I DO have an immense penis. Thank you.
Tara: And an ego to go with it. Anarchy stalking in, looking to get his hands dirty.
Vik: I won't take that opportunity. But Anarchy is indeed soiling his fists with the sweat of Rehnquist's brow! Hammering away, Anarchy's backing his opponent into Kisaragi's corner.
Tara: Tag by the Japanese Jumping Bean, who vaults over the top rope in a rolling back brain kick straight to Anarchy's painted skull!
Vik: TIMBEEEERRRRRRR!
Tara: Anarchy just slumped in the turnbuckles there, and he does NOT look happy at all with the situation. ONO HEZONFAIA taking a moment to breathe with the stocky ghoul fuming in the ropes
Vik: Bad decision by ONO here, he can't take his time when the Children get angry.
Tara: Bull charge out of the corner by Anarchy! He snakes the ankles, textbook double-leg takedown and the bruiser is bombing forearms down upon his opponent. But wait! In all his flailing around trying to
defend himself, ONO HEZONFAIA managed to get his leverage, ELEVATOR to take his own mount!
Vik: Now we've got amateur wrestling and MMA coming in to our proud ring? They're teaching the young Japanese stars to take advantage of just about any style that will give them a leg up on the competition now.
Tara: One, two forearm strikes from ONO just to put some punctuation on it, and he slides back down to his foe's legs for, of all things, a spinning toe-hold! Anarchy screaming in pain, reaching desperately for
the ropes!
Vik: We really are seeing something from all corners of the world out of Kisaragi tonight! High flying, technical holds, martial arts throws, what are they going to show us next?
[Big OOOFF!! from the crowd!]
Vik: Evidently, the contents of his eyebrow juices. ONO HEZONFAIA getting bloodied in his Shootfire debut as Entropy just CHARGES through with a knuckle sandwich that breaks the hold and opens him up!
[Competing chants from opposite sides of the crowd, battling between BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD! and the ever-popular S P DUB! S P DUB! S P DUB! S P DUB!]
Tara: Both of the thugs up and stomping on the curled form of ONO, the referee trying desperately to get them off of him and restore some semblance of order to this match. Entropy lifts ONO to his feet, whips him off the ropes.
Vik: CAUGHT by Anarchy with a wretched powerslam! And an elbow drop from Entropy just to put an exclamation on it. Entropy steps back outside to the ring apron, but it's a moot point now because Anarchy just drags ONO HEZONFAIA across the mat to his own corner, leaving a trail of blood on the canvas as the Children of Hardcore exchange partners.
Tara: You know, if we'd exchanged partners a few times maybe we'd still be married.
Vik: Well, you did, I didn't, that's why we got divorced.
Tara: And much the better for it. The big man Entropy draping the sprawling form of ONO across the middle of the ropes, taking his measure...
[Crowd pops along with Vik: O NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!]
Tara: Cactus Clothesline with Entropy just BULLDOZING both men over the ropes!
Vik: It looks like Entropy caught a nasty knock to the noggin there, both men slow to get up as the referee starts counting.
1!!!!
2!!!!
3!!!
Vik: Sounds like the crowd in the arena is showing off their basic kindergarten math skills by following along with the man in the zebra stripes.
4!!!!
Tara: The Flying Rehnquist and Anarchy out to the concrete to help their respective partners to their feet.
5!!!
6!!!
Tara: ONO HEZONFAIA first into the ring, Entropy not far behind him. Referee ordering the outside partners back to their corners, and it looks like ONO is the first to his feet, though Entropy's already on
his knees. The man in the shiny blue pants goes for Entropy's head....
[UNGGGGHHH! pop from the crowd!]
Vik: Underhanded low blow from the Brother to double over the man from Kisaragi! Entropy's got ONO HEZONFAIA in a solid headlock, pulling him straight to the ringside camera. NOOGIE! NOOGIE FROM ENTROPY! NOOGIE!
Tara: The man in the makeup making the most of his extreme closeup with the camera crew there. But Kisaragi have got a lock-tight grasp on their ring positioning because ONO manages to stretch out his leg just far enough for the Flying Rehnquist to make the tag and ambush Entropy from behind with a missile dropkick!
Vik: ONO rolling out of the ring, Entropy stumbles back to his corner for a quick tag to Anarchy. Anarchy wading right in with haymakers to the Flying Rehnquist, but the little European dude is proving game
right back!
Tara: Well, he was, up until that big headbutt knocked him reeling. Anarchy whips Rehnquist into Kisaragi's corner, Rehnquist narrowly missing the referee as he's just manhandled across the ring.
Vik: BOTH teams make the blind tag - but the referee's eyes were firmly on Kisaragi! He didn't see the Children of Hardcore switch partners!
Tara: I don't think the Brothers noticed ONO tagging himself in, either! They're focused firmly on the Flying Rehnquist in the corner - Anarchy rushing in to pull him away from the ropes, no, whipping him
right back to the turnbuckles, chest-first!
Vik: Entropy following with the massive avalanche! could this be the wicked Devil's Dance?
Tara: A whip-crack German Suplex from Anarchy says yes! The Devil's Dance follows through with a big splash from Entropy on the downed man, but ONO is the legal man from Kisaragi and already through the
ropes, going after Anarchy with a Uranage setup...
Vik: OH DEAR LORD!
[HUGE FACE POP!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: BACKFLIP URANAGE from the man in the shiny pants!
Tara: ONO HEZONFAIA Shoots the Moon! ONO comes through with the big acrobatic move, BOTH teams going for the cover!
Vik: I don't think Entropy realizes the referee didn't see their tag!
[Crowd heat builds to a crescendo as even the high schoolers can make it to three!]
1!!!!!!!!
2!!!!!!!
3!!!!!!!
Tara: Entropy rolling right out of the ring thinking he's won one more match for the Family, but the referee is raising ONO HEZONFAIA's arm, declaring Kisaragi the winners in their first Shootfire Pro competition!
Vik: Anarchy following Entropy to the floor, and as he makes his partner aware of the circumstances, the Children of Hardcore appear none too pleased.
["What's Up People" cues on the speakers.]
Tara: We've got an in-ring celebration for a sweaty and winded Kisaragi in a very auspicious showing.
[Record scratch, and Type O Negative, "Love You To Death" takes over the PA system!]
Vik: I don't think the time for celebration is at hand quite yet, Tara. That hooded figure flanked by Iris Galiver can be only one man - and the Father is VERY protective of his Family!
[Chad Allen stands in the aisle, a lone spotlight framing the smeared greasepaint as he raises a microphone, one gloved finger pointing to ONO HEZONFAIA in the ring.]
JCA: You've come a long distance just to make enemies here. Our Family takes care of its own. Anarchy, Entropy, I'll deal with you - afterward. Not wise, ONO, not wise... You took away a victory from my
Children. Now, my Children... Take away his partner!
[Crowd starts to build a murmur of heel as Chad Allen's pointed finger moves to aim at The Flying Rehnquist standing just inside the ring ropes.]
Vik: Anarchy and Entropy just hooked Rehnquist's ankles and dragged him to the concrete without so much as a never-you-mind!
Tara: Rehnquist has bigger problems though, as Entropy stands him up - Anarchy just reached over the audience barricade and stole a chair from the front row! He raises the chair to swing... No, the chair is
thrown to the floor!
Vik: I'm not sure what these two men have in mind for the Flying Rehnquist, but the audience is on its feet and making a lot of noise as Entropy hoists the high-flyer to a fireman's carry!
Tara: Oh, no, this does not bode well. The Brothers back-to-back, each with a hold of The Flying Rehnquist...
[HOLY SHIT! HOLT SHIT! HOLY SHIT! DRINK BLACK HOLE BREW! HOLY SHIT!]
Vik: ANARCHY AND ENTROPY JUST PUT THE FLYING REHNQUIST INTO THAT CHAIR NECK-FIRST! ON THE OUTSIDE CONCRETE! What is WRONG with these people?
Tara: THEY ARE MONSTERS!!! THAT IS WHAT IS WRONG WITH THEM!!!
[The EMTs rush to the ring!! The Children stand there in silence as The Father, JCA, is still laughing like the wicked clown he is!!! JCA's laugh can be heard echoing as the EMTs work to put Rehnquist
into a back brace on a stretcher. The crowd is going wild with boos, but JCA doesn't seem to mind.]
Tara: JCA is evil- he is just plain evil!!! Watch him laugh as they put The Flying Rehnquist in the back brace!! Oh my God, The Family are terrible people!
Vik: You just now figuring that one out, sweetheart?
Tara: I'm not your sweetheart, Vik, shut up!
Vik: You better talk nice to me or I'll get Iris Galiver to come over here and eat your face off!!
Tara: She's giggling just as much as JCA is. The Family is SICK!!!
[The camera shows ONO who stands there in complete shock and silence. The EMTs continue their work on The Flying Rehnquist and begin to remove him from the ringside area. As they do this "Sensuous" Samantha appears at the mouth of the entrance way with a microphone in tow.]
SSB: Ouch. That's too bad for you, ONO. You have some bad luck, don't you? I must admit it sucks to be you, mostly because you're binded by contractual obligation to Shootfire Pro Wrestling to compete as a tag team wrestler. Don't fret, we'll find you another partner for the next Conquest in which you will definitely be competing.
Vik: You heard that hot woman!!!
Tara: Quit being a pig, Vik.
Vik: What?? Have you seen her legs?!! Have you seen her Playboy shoot?!
Tara: Cut it out! I guess Bevins has laid down the law here on Off The Chain. ONO will compete in tag team competition again on the next Conquest, but he has no partner!! What a match that was. I just wish The Family would get out of here because they're creeping me out.
[Type O Negative's "Love You To Death" powers over the Georgia Dome as The Family begin to leave the ringside area. Fade to Vik and Tara.]
Vik: Quit looking so in shock.
Tara: They just took a poor, innocent man out on a stretcher because of those freaks!!! OF COURSE I AM IN SHOCK!!!
Vik: Eh, he'll live.
Tara: He could have a broken neck!! He could never compete again!!!
Vik: Not like he was that good in the first place...
Tara: You're an ass.
Vik: Meeyeh. Whisper, who are you and why do we care?
_________________________________
WHISPER
O T C
__________________________________
[Mandy Appleton's knuckles wrap against the door of the locker room, pushing it open slowly and peeking inside. Whisper stood in the middle of the locker room, his fists flying through the hair with a crisp snap, following up with an elbow immediately before visually blocking another strike and repeating the process from different angles. Each expertly thrown strike began another variant cycle before two stepping knees struck the air and a pivot on the balls of his feet allows him to turn and face the brunette beauty.]
Mandy: It's not every time a rookie signs a contract to SPW and is given their very own locker room. You must have some friends in high places.
Whisper: That's presumptuous on many fronts Ms. Appleton.
[Lowering to a squat, Whisper pushes up on metatarsus of his feet, pushing up and down in a steady rhythm. Mandy tilts her head looking the masked man over.]
Mandy: Well, what's your deal? You showed up last week out of no where, you for all intensive purposes, embarrass JDM. Do you have something against him? Has he wronged you previously and this is your chance to get revenge?
Whisper: Do I need to have a reason, Ms. Appleton? This is a new millennium, motives are inconsequential.
[Blinking, Mandy slides her fingers through her hair, brushing it over her shoulder. Her gaze cast down to the man, shaking her head back and forth.]
Mandy: That's it? That's your answer it?
Whisper: I take it, that wasn't good enough for you. [Pausing for a long moment, he nods his head.] Very well, how about this. My father was a great swordmaker, JDM asked him to forge a sword to accommodate his unusual grip. My father made him that sword and when JDM returned, he refused to pay and killed my father. I witnessed all of this, I challenged him but he easily defeated me...as I was only a mere age of 10. He spared my life but scarred my face, a lesson to not try and further acts of bravery.
As a result, I devoted my entire life to avenge his death, my training started when I was 12 years old. My name is Indigo Montoya, JDM killed my father, now he must prepare to die. Is that a better story?
Mandy: Huh? What are you talking about?
[Whisper's head tilts from one side to the other, as if Mandy had grown a second head and he was trying to figure out why.]
Whisper: Princess Bride?
Mandy: Ok! You're kinda weird!
Whisper: You've...never seen the Princess Bride? [sighs] I fear my joke was lost on you. I should have thought it out in more detail, you're still young...I may be dating myself. Either way, I have no problem with JDM, I took the opportunity that was presented to make an impact. I believe, I succeeded.
Mandy: Why do you wear the mask? Why do you wear all white? Why Whisper?
Whisper: Why not? I wear white, because I'm not hiding from anyone. I want
everyone to see me coming.
Mandy: You're not hiding from anyone, but you wear a mask.
Whisper: The irony of it all, makes me smile on the inside.
Mandy: So why? Why wear the mask?
Whisper: Maybe I'm hiding from myself, but then again, I may not consider myself anyone. I could be nobody, and that's a very accurate statement. I'll tell you this much, as you are inquisitive and have been trying to get something out of me, I'll play along. I have become disciplined and centered, this mask...it's the reason why. Once I take this mask off, you won't like what's underneath. In SPW, there are a lot of people wearing masks, however, I knowingly wear mine on the outside and I make that obvious.
Mandy: So why are you here in Atlanta? I'm sure it's not for Atlanta Hawks tickets. Do you plan on making an appearance tonight?
Whisper: I can't answer that. Maybe, I will. Maybe, I have to. There may not be any choice for me but to walk out of this locker room and to the ring. Right now, SPW doesn't have a hero. The men and women people have put their faith into...have now put that faith into question. As of today...I may be the hero...SPW needs...
Mandy: As of today? So you're saying that, that could change in the future?
Whisper: I can't answer that either Ms. Appleton. I honestly wish I could give you a clear answer, however...
[Standing up slowly once more, Whisper steps closer to Mandy. She tenses up as
Whisper invades her personal space, Whisper leaning into her ear. An audible Whisper escaping the enigma while the cameras begin to fade out.]
...The Future is Unwritten...
_________________________________
RICH PATTERSON
O T C
__________________________________
[Rich Patterson is stood by his rental car on the outskirts of an industrial district, seemingly impervious to the toxic smoke belching out of the chimneys in the background]
Once again, you all thought you knew better. You thought that I’d be put down like a rabid dog, preventing the risk of my disease spreading throughout the roster. And once again, you backed the wrong horse.
Each and every one of you that thought Quinn Scott would be the man to shut me up better be feeling apologetic right now, because not only did I take the fight to him, he proved that I am the one fight he cannot win on his own. All he can point to is a DQ win and a swollen nutsack when somebody asks him how the match went, and once again the fact that I was the man standing in the ring at the end of it all. And if that cocksucker in the crowd thinks that’s worth giving me the finger for, then I’d LOVE to hear what his thoughts on Barry Baldwin getting his ass handed to him were.
Ah yes, Barry Baldwin, the man with the Fusion title and a solid gold Zimmer frame. Somebody else who decided they were better than me, better than everyone, and thought they could run their mouth to prove it. Big mistake,
Baldwin – and, may I ask, how’s the knee?
[Patterson chuckles]
Suddenly you don’t look better than me, because you’ve got a limp, and every other step makes you grimace as the cartilage grinds against the bone, and that bruise doesn’t seem to be getting any smaller, does it? In other words, you have a giant bulls eye on your knee, and you’re going to move even slower than usual, you arthritic jackass. Even better, your pride, your ego, decided that you wanted revenge at the earliest date, rather than resting the knee like any sensible human being would. I bet the moment you step from behind the curtain, you’re going to realise what a mistake you made.
What was going through your head at the exact moment I stripped away your veneer of arrogant superiority, Baldwin? I bet you were thinking that somebody wanted to wrench the spotlight away from you to make a name for yourself, when in actual fact I was taking the opportunity you gave me, to everyone, and with it I let you know that you are not the hero you believe yourself to be, because you are vulnerable.
I have my reasons for taking out your knee, and I bet each and every one of you listening to my words would love to hear them, but I’m not going to divulge why I did what I had to do just yet. After all, why should I lay my cards on the table now, when I can do what I want, when I want? You seem to be thinking that I’m here to entertain you.
Alas, Baldwin wants things his way, so has demanded a Pure Rules match, whatever the hell that is when it’s at home. It’s a pity he didn’t have the courage to fight me like everyone else on the roster will be fighting at Conquest that he has to hide behind some rule to try and gain some kind of advantage, yet shows that he is ignorant of one thing – the purity that is the clenched fist. Perhaps he could ask Scott about that, considering I hit him so hard my knuckles almost took the worst of the damage. Almost…
And there is nothing more pure than the feeling of satisfaction when you rub the lesser man’s face in the fact his arrogance cost him dear. Because, and you better be listening Baldwin, I will be coming to take that title of yours to remind you that when you have the opportunity to keep your mouth shut, you damn well better take it – Shayne Grissom will show you the reasons why, just in case your head was too far up your ass to make paying attention difficult. And with it, I will begin to slaughter the sacred cows of SPW one after the other, until they realise that I am not somebody to be dismissed or taken lightly, but somebody to fear…and that title will be all the collateral I need to unlock all the closed minds that think differently.
[FTB]
_________________________________
THE FAMILY
O T C
__________________________________
[Darkness, a single voice, that of a Wicked Clown....]
Once again I ask, do you understand what I was saying, non believers? That this was not the end of The Family, but simply the beginning?
[Fade up to a shot of last week, with Jester holding the title up against an unconscious VVV's chest...]
With the Mentor, The Beast, Vile Vince Viper in the Family, and taking the SPW World Title in the process...
[A shot of the Children of Hardcore in the darkened ring, and DEATHKNELL towering over even the massive Entropy]
with the Children of Hardcore getting a new sibling in DEATHKNELL,
[A shot of JDM Superstar, calling off the POWER Syndicate.]
with even the mighty POWER preferring to run instead of face off against us,
[A shot of Sammy Knight Blood Drop'ing Andrew Davis]
with even your supposed HERO Sammy Knight fighting for the good of The Family,
[And now a fade up to the Jester himself, sitting in the middle of the Church of Hardcore, on a throne like chair behind the altar. The Children of Hardcore flank his either side, arms crossed, looking like the monsters they pretty much are...]
you have to understand that 2010 is the year that you give the Devil his due.
And now this week, I get to step into the ring with the man known as the "Dream" Marcus Davis. Marcus, you have been around this business for many years, and have wrestled in Japan, Mexico, and the US, taking on any and all comers, but you have NOT, and NEVER WILL, face someone like me, The Wicked Clown. You see Marcus, my plan is to not come in and wrestle you, though I am sure that is what you would prefer. I plan to come in and make an EXAMPLE of you. I plan to show that there is no white knight like yourself, looking to ride in and save the supposed damsel in distress. The world does not have the storybook happy ending, Marcus. It is filled with anger, hate, hostility, violence, and all the things that my Family and I represent.
[A smirk, a chuckle, escapes the painted lips of the Father.]
I guess if what your "Dream" is, is to represent the puppy dog and rainbow dreams that the delusional have out there, then I guess that officially makes me your nightmare, Marcus. Because we are pretty much the polar opposite of each other, the photo negative if you will. So you can accentuate the positive all you like, Marcus, try to tell me why I am wrong, and how you are going to win out in the end, but I think you will see, when the dust settles, that the victor will NOT be you, boy scout, it will be ME, the man who has everything and MORE to gain this week, and that goes for in AND out of the ring, but perhaps I have said too much...
[Both Children of Hardcore look confused for a moment, for they don't even know what exactly JCA is referring to. JCA simply smiles, and gives a wave of his hand, which both Children seem to know means "leave it alone".]
My Children, speak to the people about your match with Kisagari, the team that has flown all the way from the Land of the Rising Sun to be sent back there in a body bag.
[The Children step forward a bit, both with an evil grin on their faces, bloodlust in their eyes.]
ANARCHY: Stronger, meaner, more destructive, that is what The Family has become as we grow. We are the preeminent group in all of wrestling, NOT just SPW.
[Anarchy holds up the spiked forearm bracer that the Children have been wearing as of late.]
ANARCHY: Our name is spoken in whispers from here in the US, to across the oceans in Japan, which is why a team like Kisagari has come here, to face the biggest and the best.
[Entropy slaps his brother in the chest, Anarchy does not even flinch, even if the shot sounds like a gun going off.]
ENTROPY: And the team that fits that bill is the Children of Hardcore. I will say, we know little about you two, but that does not matter when you are the direct descendants to the crown of the Hardcore God.
[Both Children pause for a moment, bowing their heads to the Father.]
ENTROPY: He has taught us all we know, and we are more than willing to put it to good use against you. We don't care what we have to do to put you down, but we WILL do it.
[Jester smiles as his Children revel in the chance to maim and torture.]
ANARCHY: We WILL shed your blood, we WILL break your bones, we WILL make you regret making the 14 hour flight it takes to get from Japan to Atlanta.
ENTROPY: And we will do it for The Family, we will do it for the Father, but most importantly, we will do it for our own enjoyment. This is our fun, this is our entertainment, all other things are boring to us.
[Entropy looks to Anarchy with a grin.]
ANARCHY: And we can promise, this will NOT be BORING.
[The Children take a step back behind The Jester again, as we fade to black.]
_________________________________
CODE OF HONOR
O T C
__________________________________
Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fate.
-Sun Tzu
[A group of enthusiastic youngsters’ crowd together in an overfilled Cimmerian club, they gyrate together making for a typical yet ever exciting atmosphere for today’s youth. The absent of any sound, the dreary coloration of the picture, and an robotic slow motion capture makes for a very eerie scene as our camera slowly moves through the crowd of countless individuals. For a few passing moments are view settles on a scantly clad female with long flowing blonde hair. She dances provocatively with a group of her friends, hands thrown high into the air, after a few seconds focused on the young "lady" our view fades out and relatively quickly opens to another group of people dancing together. It almost seems the fun and excitement is misplaced with the dark visual effects. As abrupt as the scene appeared on the screen it vanishes to a pitch black screen. Only a few moments pass until we hear Marcus Davis’ voice.]
Davis: It’s quite funny you ask, it seems no matter what we are able to accomplish, no matter the adversity we overcome, the detractors continue to doubt our commitment to becoming a force within Shootfire Pro Wrestling. I assume the most accurate comparison could be made to my time training to become a Professional Wrestler, no matter what task I was able to accomplish it was met without much praise, yet with another task I needed to complete. In this instance Kenji Metwaro is much different than those that continue to doubt whether I take SPW seriously…
They almost seem to hope for my failure, while Kenji prayed for my success.
[The scene cuts directly to a figure standing in a double breasted trench coat with a fedora, even with the distortion of our visual the unique designs on this individuals mask identify the individual as El Rey Futuro. Futuro stands stoically, his hand buried deep within the pockets of his coat. While the mask covers all identifiable facial features, our camera zooms in on Futuro’s eyes. They slowly move from side to side, taking in the complexity of the scene around him. While his surroundings are shrouded in chaos a sense of calm is about Futuro as he stands unmoving. With another sharp cut we are still viewing, now from a look across the room. The Luchadore stands out due to the oddity of his attire, and the fact he is the only one present not currently dancing, he remains distant from the crowd as the crowd remains separate from him as well. While they are only under ten steps away from each other it is as they are light years apart.]
Davis: Yes, you could say that…We’re not concerned with making everyone a believer; we are mostly concerned with installing a sense of tradition and pride back into wrestling in America. We have all the confidence and talent to achieve such a task, those that do believe in us give us the extra motivation needed to train just a bit harder, to watch just a little more film, to have the extra courage needed to stand up for what we know to be fair and just. Those are values that have somewhat lost their merit with my generation. Those values are the very ones that will allow us to reach our goals and become the peaks in this industry.
[Futuro slowly begins to walk towards the crowd; the view quickly switches to a close up of his black dress shoes, then to another close up of his eyes that are still taking in his surroundings. The camera slowly pans out, Futuro slides past groups of people dancing. Still they do not pay attention to the Luchadore who seems to be focused on his search. His movement stops at the only open area in the club, he stares forward as his eyes narrow. Our view cuts behind Futuro, this is where we see the object of his concern. A holographic image of Vile Vince Viper, Chad Allen, Iris Galiver, Entropy, and Anarchy whom are better known as the "Family" standing a few feet in front of him, all of their focuses are upon Futuro.]
Davis: Chad Allen…The Jester…I’ve followed his career for quite sometime. He has had many impressive moments in the ring, but neither his style nor outlook on this industry has ever impressed me. This sport isn’t about enraged Psychopaths picking up steel chairs and whacking their opponents. It isn’t able making someone bleed or attempts to try to end their days of walking upright….
To be completely honest everything the "Family" represent and stand for are at the heart of the problem in this industry. Wild counter culture chaos, deception, brutal attacks none have any place in Puroresu, Wrestling, Lucha Libre, whatever you want to call it. I hope to prove this to Chad Allen when he steps into the ring against me. I am apart of the cure for his brand of wrestling. After what I saw what happened with Viper, it made me sick to my stomach that his helping me was apart of some scheme. I guess it goes to show you that some people do not change and continue to be poisoned by their own greed. I guess…Well…
I guess he will have to be dealt with along with the rest of his "Family."
[The hologram disappears from in front of Futuro, the camera shoots back in front of him. Much like our last meeting, a single hand is seen on the far side of the screen. Futuro stands alert as the camera cuts to a quick view on his eyes which seem to be somewhat relaxed. The camera quickly goes to the original view, a small amount of tension seems to exist between this figure and Futuro.]
Voice: What do you have for me this time?
[Futuro slowly reaches his right hand into his left breast pocket. He quickly pulls out a card that has the Foundation Of Honor logo, the camera freezes on a close up of the card.]
Davis: Believe…
[Fade.]
___________________________________
TIFFANY LANE
O T C
__________________________________
[Fade in.]
[The scene opens at the Atlanta boutique of designer Alexandria Parker. Sitting in one of the VIP rooms is the Blonde Bombshell herself, Tiffany Lane. Tiffany is clad in a Issa London, butterfly wrap dress and heels, her blonde hair falling straight down her back, bangs resting above her eyes. She’s sipping champagne and looking over some of the designer’s sketches, before tossing a look towards the camera, a smirk on her lips.]
Tiffany: I know you’re all asking yourself the same question. "How could she do it?" "How could she betray Kieran Rae?" But what you should be asking yourself is "why didn’t she do it sooner!?!"
[She sighs.]
Tiffany: Because SPW has been screwing me over and treating me like crap every since that creature feature, Poet Wright, stole _my_ women’s title!
[She glares at the camera.]
Tiffany: And Kieran, my supposed BFF, was the worst offender! When that bitch was down in the dumps and nearly kicked out of SPW, who was the one that got her a job and helped her find a place to stay? Me! But when I go to her and ask her to give me my rightful title shot, she tells me to "wait my turn" and then proceeds to let those other skanks take _my_ spot.
[She shakes her head.]
Tiffany: I don’t think so! That’s exactly why I hooked up with Samantha and Nikki. Besides Samantha being one of the best managers this sport has ever seen and Nikki being a future legend, they actually appreciated my talents and gifts. Plus, they’re two of the few women who bring the same beauty, sophistication, and class that I do to this sport. And it helped that they hate Kieran almost as much as me.
[She smirks.]
Tiffany: Sure, we could have accomplished what we did without this elaborate hoax. But it was all worth it to get to shave that tramp’s skull, especially since she didn’t even see it coming.
[Tiffany lets out a laugh, tossing her silky mane.]
Tiffany: You should have seen her face. The shock, horror, and fear, followed by despair as those clippers destroyed that bird’s nest she called a hair-do. And I loved every second of it! It was the perfect revenge for a fake ass friend and served notice to the rest of the pathetic skanks in the women’s division that the new Young and Beautiful have arrived. And, if you step in our way, you’ll be destroyed and humiliated, just like Kieran.
Speaking of which, I guess I should say something about this she-beast I’m facing, Orchid.
[Tiffany feigns a yawn and rolls her eyes.]
Tiffany: Girl, I don’t know who lied to you, but you might as well hang it up now. Because there’s no way in Hell that you have a chance against me. I’m the SPW living legend, baby, the Queen of the ring. And you’re just another butch of questionable gender.
Oh sure, you’ve had a couple of lucky wins here and there. But look at what you’ve been competing against, the dregs of this division. But at OTC, you will be facing the crème dela crème, the woman who made history as the first ever three time SPW women’s champion. So, against those no-names and no-talents, you might have been impressive. But against me? You’ll be sorely lacking.
I mean, you were trained by Apathy, for crying out loud, a well-known booze hound, when she wasn’t off popping out illegitimate children.
[The smirk returns, followed by a giggle.]
Tiffany: Your pedigree alone exposes you. And I’ll do the rest, when we get in that ring and I show you what it truly means to be Young and Beautiful!
[Fade to blonde.]
______________________________________________________
TIFFANY LANE vs ORCHID
OTC
______________________________________________________
["Love is Dead" kicks up over the PA System as the arena lights rise and swivel to focus on the entrance as 'O R C H I D' appears over the SPWTron. Spotlights go to purple sending a cascade of light across the stage as the drums kick out and the audience pops!]
"This is the hardest part
When you feel like you're fading
All that you have has become unreal
Collapsing, and aching"
[Out on stage walks Orchid Rousseaux, striding to the middle in black leather wrestling tights, and a torn half-white tank over a black leather bra. Her long black hair tied into a ponytail, she stops and stares out with deep dark eyes, batting lashes as she places a hand on her hip. Orchid raises her right arm, decorated in red kanji tatooos, to the air to let her fingers spread back as a boom of pyro blasts up behind her!! Georgia cheers out!]
[HUGE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
"All I want, All I want is right here
But love don't live here anymore
(Love is dead, love is gone, love don't live here anymore)
Love don't live here anymore
(love is dead, love is gone, love don't live here anymore)"
[Sparks fall like rain down behind her, framing the silhouette as Orchid stares out, and begins to stride down the ramp walking without a care in the world. She moves for the ring as the fans rush to touch her but Orchid heads for the squared circle without paying them any attention. Purple spotlights circle as
the mysterious Superstar approaches the ring, pausing in the aisle, a thin smile across her pursed lips.]
"I know that you think of me when your
Beside her, inside her
It must be so hard for you to
Deny it and hide it"
[Orchid heads around to the steel steps, and begins to climb before strutting across the apron's edge. She moves to the middle of the ropes and gripping backwards, leans back to stretch and does a backwards flip right into the ring! Orchid walks to the center and raises her arm out as a silver shower of
sparks rains down from behind her, the fans popping out as light bounces off the mat.]
"Oh, all I want
All I want is right here, but love don't live here anymore
(Love is dead, love is gone, love don't live here anymore)"
Stone: AND FROM NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA BY WAY OF TOKYO JAPAN... WEIGHING IN AT 160 POUNDS, THIS IS
ORRRRRRRRRRRRRRCHIIIIIIIID!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[HUGE FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
[The pulsating beats of "The Fame" by Lady GaGa begins to play, kicking up across the PA System as the audience reaction is vicious. On the SPWTron, we see the words "YOUNG & BEAUTIFUL" flash on the screen to the beat. And when the guitar kicks in, we go to highlights of Nikki James' in-ring abilities as well as those of Tiffany Lane and the modeling poses of "Sensuous" Samantha Bevins. Spotlights circle as they point directly at the three women standing on the metal stage!]
[BIG TIME HEEL HEAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
"I can't help myself
I'm addicted to a life of material
It's some kind of joke
I'm obsessively opposed to the typical"
[Nikki James, with her long brown hair, blue eyes, decent sized chest and long legs, is wearing a conservative grey business suit style ring outfit -- slacks, white ruffled shirt, vest on top of it, and black boots under her pants. Tonight she dons a black Young & Beautiful t-shirt over her outfit. Tiffany Lane, busty as ever, is clad in a black, bra top, trimmed in pink, and black tights, "Bombshell" written across er tight bottom in pink cursive. She completes the look with black, platform wrestling boots. Her blonde mane falls down her back, a smirk on her lovely face. Samantha Bevins' blond hair flows down her back as she wears an expensive black dress and silver Manolo Blahnik shoes. Nikki & Tiffany pose at the top of the ramp as the lights continue to swirl. Meanwhile Samantha is talking trash and twirling her head to send her blonde hair sweeping in a circle. All three women laugh as Samantha shakes a manicured finger at the fans!]
"All we care about is runway models
Cadillacs and liquor bottles
Give me something I wanna be
Retro glamour Hollywood, yes we life for the"
[The trio of ladies make their way down the aisle and and climb the ring steps. Standing on the apron, they give the fans a nice long look at their derrières. Samantha looks over her shoulder and grins, as she steps inside the ring and prepares for one of her partners in crime to personally eliminate another member of the SPW Women's division!! Nikki climbs in behind her followed by Tiffany Lane.]
"Fame, doin' it for the fame
'Cause we wanna live the life of the rich and famous
Fame, doin' it for the fame
'Cause we gotta taste for champagne and endless fortune"
[The music fades as Steve Stone raises a microphone to his lips and looks at his cards.]
Stone: INTRODUCING FIRST, REPRESENTING THE YOUNG & BEAUTIFUL... ACOMPANIED TO THE RING BY "SENSUOUS" SAMANTHA BEVINS AND "NEW YORK'S FINEST" NIKKI JAMES... FROM BEVERLY HILLS, CALIFORNIA, SHE IS THE BLONDE BOMBSHELL...
TIFFANY! LANE!!!!!
[MASSIVE ROUND OFJEERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: Y&B out here and OTC getting a new revamp in a week, I think our new name is ASCNSN or something like that.
Tara: Well I think vowels are involved. Hmmm.
Vik: Yeah either way long as I still have a job, they can name it Dy-No-Mite for all I care. And let's go to the ring for our next fight, as Orchid to take on the newly Young and Beautifouled Tiffany Lane.
*DINGDINGDING!!!!*
[The crowd doesn't look ready to boo but Lane doesn't care, as she is circling with Orchid. Orchid stares directly ahead and then to Nikki James at ringside. Orchid points out at Nikki who mocks her and Tiffany takes advantage to grab Orchid by the collar and send her headfirst into the top turnbuckle!!]
[CROWD BOOING!!!!!!!!!!!]
**DINGDINGDING!**
Tara: Aw she jumped her before the bell!
Vik: NO SHE DI INT! ...What, not relevant in 2010?
Tara: Orchid with the hands up to catch herself, to block, to guard and Tiffany nails the Side Russian Legsweep! Floatover, pin attempt,
1!!!!!!!!!
Tara: Kickout at one! Orchid starting to get riled up.
[Lane pulls up Orchid and hauls her up to slam her down! The fans aren't pleased but a lot of Lane's diehard fans still cheer on despite Nikki at ringside. Orchid sits up as Lane charges the ropes, comes running back and lets fly with the enzugiri!!]
[HUGE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: NAILED HER!!
Tara: Orchid falling over, Tiffany dragging her up with the head and waist, arm behind the neck and under the arm, and the other one wrapped around Orchid's midsection, Lane plants her feet and suplexes Orchid backwards on her head!
Vik: OH DUMPED HER RIGHT ON HER HEAD! BOUNCED OFF HER SKULL!!
[The fans look on in horror as Orchid rolls over, an arm falling over her shoulder as she's down and hurt. Tiffany snaps over to wind in the rear chinlock, holding Orchid in tight as she controls her opponent, keeping her trapped on the mat.]
Tara: Tiffany Lane in control, she would love nothing more then to climb the rankings at the expense of Orchid. Keeping her opponent trapped in, Lane sitting on Orchid and just cranking back on that neck.
Vik: A capacity crowd showing up here in Georgia for SPW- and they are very much behind the mysterious Orchid as they want to see her win this match.
Tara: Orchid fighting up, trying to get her knees out as Lane trying to hang on!
[FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: Tiffany taken up and into the air ORCHID KICKS BACK WITH THE SLAM!!
[FANS CHEER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Tara: ORCHID ripping Lane around, irish whip to the ropes!
[Lane slams the side and coming off misses with the clothesline! She continues running across the ring as Orchid runs to her side, both women slam off the side and rush back but Orchid throws up the arm to catch Lane's! She kicks her legs around to lock the crucifix and rolls off to twist Tiffany around and catching her head falls straight down to snap the hangman's neckbreaker!!]
[CROWD ROARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Tara: HANGMAN'S NECKBREAKER NICELY DONE!! ORCHID HAS LAID OUT TIFFANY LANE!
Vik: ORCHID TO THE OUTSIDE! PULLING BACK AS SHE LOOKS TO GO FOR THE SPRINGBOARD!!
Tara: NIKKI JAMES HAS HER LEG!!
[FANS SCREAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: ORCHID KICKED HER OFF!!!
Tara: AND NOW ORCHID BACK AND SPRINGBOARDING THROUGH THE AIR!!
[Lane rolls over and rearing back, throws her legs up in the kip up! She smashes into Orchid, taking her right out of the air!!]
[HUUUUUUUUUUUUGE CROWD POP!!!!!!]
Tara: ORCHID'S STOMACH NEARLY CAVED IN!!
Vik: And Tiffany Lane, kip up dropkick to knock her outta the air! Oh like an interceptor missile!!
[Tiffany gets up, and crawling over pulls back on the leg to bridge back over Orchid!!]
1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2!!!!!!!!!!!!
3NOOOO!! ORCHID GOT THE SHOULDER UP!!
[FANS CHEERING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: Orchid still alive! Surprised the hell outta me, I thought she was done for.
Tara: And so did these capacity fans, the Georgia Dome turning out in support of this enigmatic superstar. Orchid still in this, and Tiffany Lane decides to rain down the stomps, oh she has the stamina and conditioning to keep the offense on. Measured stomps and fevered kicks, just unwilling to concede any ounce of momentum to Orchid Rousseaux.
[Orchid is trying to crawl up as Tiffany pulls her up, throwing the arm over her shoulder. Looking to the fans, Lane smirks as they boo. Tiffany suplexes Orchid into the air, and holding her high, waits for the blood to drain down to her face-- and then snaps the brainbuster out of the air!!]
Tara: BRAINBUSTER and Lane with the float over, cover and the count-
1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tara: No Orchid kicks out. That might have took a lot out of her. Tiffany Lane in control and taking her over, just paintbrushes her. Orchid on her knees. Nikki James mocking Orchid from the outside floor and Orchid trying to get up, trying to stand- and Lane grabbing her head, and taunting her before throwing her down to the mat like nothing! Tiffany rising and hands outspread to the capacity crowds!!
Vik: Ducking down to gather her luscious blonde hair, now up and HAIR TOSS O'DOOM!!!!
[HUUUUUGE HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Tara: TIFFANY LANE gloating with spite! And now taking Orchid up and throws her into the corner! Lane inside with the punches to the guts! Tenderizing her opponent and now sitting Orchid over and up onto the top rope, Lane climbs up to the second buckle and wraps an arm over around the head?
Vik: LANE STANDING TALL AND REVERSE SUPERPLEX!!!!
**WWWHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!!**
Tara: ORCHID DRIVEN DOWN ON HER GUTS!! LANE MAKING HER SUFFER! AND NIKKI LEANING IN, TALKING TRASH IN ORCHID'S EAR!
[HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: And Lane enjoying herself, taking the time to show off that gorgeous head of hair that she SHOULD have lost at Charity Carnage, instead selling out to keep her beauty intact. My kinda girl.
Tara: Orchid trying to get up on the ropes, trying to contend with "New York's Finest" who is currently laying the brow beating in. Tiffany coming in and HARD KICK TO THE RIBS!!
Vik: Oooh! And Orchid in pain as Lane dragging her up and tossing her through the ropes, to the apron, to the floor below! And now Tiffany distracting the Referee with her giant breasts, asking him if her shirt's too tight!? Let me check those for ya Tiff!
[FANS BOOING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: NIKKI JAMES PUTTING THE BOOTS TO ORCHID AT RINGSIDE!!
[MONSTER HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Tara: Georgia has about had enough of this, and from where I sit they is fixin to riot!
Vik: Y'all done did something do and make 'em go crazy now.
Tara: Orchid trying to get up and fight, Nikki beating into Orchid and just pops her hip right into Orchid's face!! James now twisting Orchid around and sending her right back into the ring! Tiffany done with distracting the Referee and rushing over, lays down the lateral press- oh what's this, feet up on the middle rope!
[CROWD BOOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
3-NOOOOOOO!!! ORCHID KICKED OUT!!
[FANS CHEER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: TIFFANY in control and dragging Orchid up, Lane with the face and throwing the forearm-
Tara: ORCHID DUCKED! AND SPINNING HEEL KICK INTO TIFFANY CAUGHT!!
Vik: LANE HIT WITH THE LEG LARIAT! WHOAAA! ORCHID TO HER SHOULDERS GETS THE LEG AROUND AND HURRICANRAN-
Tara: NOO! LANE HELD HER THIGHS AND INTO THE AIR FOR THE POWERBOMB!!
Vik: ORCHID GETS THE LEGS OUT!! TWO HANDFULS OF HAIR AND PULLS THE HEAD INSIDE BETWEEN HER LEGS! AND ORCHID WITH THE DIVE OVER TOP AND RIGHT INTO THE TOKYO DOOOMMM!!!
[FANS ROAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Tara: THIS IS OVER! THIS MATCH IS OVER! AND ORCHID CRAWLING ACROSS, SHE HAS THE PIN!
1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Vik: NIKKI JAMES UP ON THE APRON!! OUR REF DISTRACTED!
[FANS BOOING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Tara: ORCHID UP!! AND SEEING NIKKI! RUNS TO SMASH THE FOREARM AND KNOCK JAMES CLEAR OFF THE APRON!!
[HUGE FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: ORCHID TURNING AROUND AND GOING IN TO PULL LANE UP FOR THE PIN-
Tara: TIFFANY TAKES HER OVER WITH A HANDFUL OF TIGHTS!!?!
[FANS SCREAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: HANDFUL OF TIGHTS!!
1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tara: ORCHID KICKED OUT!!
Vik: And her posterior just got a whole lot less mysterious! But these fans didn't seem to mind!!
Tara: Orchid saving herself Tiffany Lane the queen of dirty tricks, inside arm wrap rings variation no crucifixes her over to push Orchid down she has the pin and the leg!
1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tara: ORCHID KICKS OUT AGAIN!!
[FANS CHEERING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: LANE HAS ORCHID Whip and Orchid no! Spun around to send Lane to the side! Tiffany to the second rope, leaps and springs backwards into the moonsault, ORCHID DUCKED IN AND CAUGHT HER OVER HER SHOULDER!!
[The fans cheer as Orchid runs the ropes for a hotshot, but Lane slides off her back! Orchid goes into the cables and Samantha pulls her leg! Orchid staggers off balance and Tiffany wraps the arms to hit a tremendous German Suplex, but Orchid flipped out of it!!]
[CROWD ROARING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Tara: LANE WITH THE BACK THRUST KICK TO THE STOMACH!!
Vik: ORCHID HIT! BUT ANSWERS BACK WITH THE EUROPEAN UPPERCUT!
Tara: ORCHID WITH THE HAIR AND RIPPING TIFFANY IN FOR THE DDT!!
Vik: LANE COUNTERING WITH THE NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!!
[HUGE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Stone: AND YOUR WINNER! TIFFANY LAAAAAAAAAANE!!!
[MONSTER HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: Aww my girl TIFFANY winning in grand fashion! And demanding the Referee raise her hand, these fans in Georgia hating her! Oh she looks good, kicks your ass, talks trash while she do it and did I mention she looks damn good? Did I did I huh did I huh?
Tara: Lane with a win and Sensuous Sam shoving in to push the Referee aside, she is raising Lane's hand and telling everyone who the winner is. Tiffany Lane, with a check in the win column as she looks to set her sights back up the wrestling ranks.
Vik: And Nikki James inside too, throwing it in the faces of our collective crowd, here well they don't like that either. That theme may be Maneater but she just chewed up Orchid and beat her with the Northern Lights. Good match.
Tara: Let's hear from Nina Larue, our main event still to come, HJV versus Blake Covington.
_________________________________
NINA LARUE
O T C
__________________________________
[The scene opens at the home of "The Goddess" Nina Larue. More specifically, the gym. The area is set-up with state of the art equipment and weights. But our attention is drawn to Mrs. Larue, who is attacking a back with relish. She’s clad in a tank top and boy-cut shorts, her feet taped. Her black hair falls to her shoulders and frames her face, sweat glistening off of her lithe form.]
[She lashes out with a series of kicks to the bag, a determined look in her violet eyes. Suddenly, the beauty spins, driving her foot into the bag and sending it rocking. With hands on her hips, she steps back, taking a breath before turning to face the camera.]
Nina: You know, I’ve made many enemies doing what I do and they’ve done some fairly horrible things to me. I’ve had my hair hacked off and dyed blue. I’ve had my personal belongings trashed beyond recognition. And I’ve been assaulted with nearly every weapon that you can imagine, at least once. But no enemy has gone quite as far as Iris Galiver has.
[Her eyes darken.]
Nina: Because she didn’t just focus her efforts on me. That could have been eventually forgotten. Instead, that monster decided to drag my _husband_ into our affairs too, which puts her in a whole other league from the other women and men that I’ve clashed with. And what makes her actions even worse is the fact that she didn’t just attack him physically, but she managed to break him mentally as well.
And that’s exactly what you did, Iris, when you and your twisted family kidnapped me. Do you know how powerless he felt, forced to watch from the sidelines as I was tortured and beaten? How humiliated and demoralized!?! And now that I’m back home, where I belong, he still hasn’t fully recovered.
[She shakes her head.]
Nina: Even now, he will wake up at night, in a cold sweat, turning to make sure that I’m next to him and not in that hellhole that you had me trapped in. It took all of my power to convince him not to send added security with me, when I returned to SPW. And I don’t think I have to tell you how he feels about this upcoming match or my wrestling career now.
[She sighs.]
Nina: You’ve changed him, Iris, perhaps forever, from a loving man, completely supportive of me and my career, to a man wallowing in paranoia and fear, who would like nothing better than to see me retire. And that is inexcusable. Hurting me is one thing, monster, but my family is off limits!
[She folds her arms across her chest.]
Nina: I tell you all of this so that there is no confusion about what I am about to do to you at Conquest. And I praise the goddess that it will be extreme rules. Because I finally have the opportunity to face you one on one and make you pay for _everything_ that you’ve done to me. No Erica. No Angst. Just you and me, standing across the ring from one another. And I cannot wait.
[She grins her eyes still dark.]
Nina: You’ve destroyed my life, Iris. Took time away from me and my husband…turned him into a former shell of himself. And you did it all for sport. You enjoyed every second of our misery, laughing and giggling like a demented fool. Well, the laughing’s going to be over very soon. Because I will get to show you first hand how I earned the honor of becoming the first ever Battling Ring Angels hardcore champion. At Conquest, you answer for your sins, Iris, and you'd better pray to whatever demons you worship that you're ready.
[Fade.]
_________________________________
IRIS GALIVER
O T C
__________________________________
[The camera fades into a dark atmosphere with a bit of faint light. It's a little girl's room. Or maybe an adult who thinks she is a little girl? Either way, it's decorated in pink and lace. Pink and lace that is stained in blood, of course. The evil Jester keeps his Goddess happy, doesn't he? The Alaskan psycho Iris Galiver sits in the corner of the room at her little girl table with little girl chairs. Iris is playing a board game by herself. Or maybe her imaginary friend Mr. Peabody is there? She wears a torn and tattered black lace dress. Her blood red hair covers her pale face. Iris raises her voice as the camera closes in on her.]
IRIS: I can't play this game anymore! I can't plays it anymore! I HATE THIS GAME!
[Full of rage, Iris throws the game board against the wall. It slams against the surface in pure fury! Iris grunts and a scream comes from deep within her throat.]
IRIS: I hate Candy Land! I hate it because it reminds me of Nina Larue! We played it together! We played it together! She was bound, gagged and couldn't get loose, but she played with me!
[Iris nods quickly.]
IRIS: Yes, yes, those two weeks I had her here were so, so fun! She would play with me. And I would comb her hair. Then she would scream. We would scream together. Everything was glorious. It was a glorious life for the pretty, pretty Princess! But now! Now! Ooooh! My head! My head! Ouchies, my head!
[Iris squeals loudly as she kicks her feet back and forth.]
IRIS: It has hurted all week! All week long! Why does it hurt? Why does it hurt
so bad?
[Iris grabs her head and turns to her left to address her imaginary friend.]
IRIS: Why? Why Mr. Peabody, why?
[No response.]
IRIS: Is it because I keep thinking about that wretched Nina Larue? Is it because that mean, mean girl Erica Toughill still has Agamemnon? Oh! Oh! My pretty little head! It hurts soooo badded!
[Iris grabs at her head again and then at her mass of full, bright red hair. She pulls at her hair gently.]
IRIS: A Princess is not supposed to hurt like this. A pretty, pretty Princess like myself it suppose to feel good all the time. And eat pancakes with maple syrup for breakfast every morning! Hehe! With a side of Nina Larue blood!
[A slight giggle. Her gaze now penetrates into the camera as she twists her head to the left.]
IRIS: Nina Larue, you are why my head hurts! You are a complete headache! You're the reason why that terrible Erica Toughill got a win over me. Now I'm mad. I'm mad. I'm mad!!! But I've realized. Oh, how I've realized that getting mad is not going to do anything about it. Getting even is what I need to do. Getting even will make it a darker time for you, Nina. Getting even... getting even. It will make things even better for the pretty, pretty Princess!
[Iris nods.]
IRIS: I'm a smart little girl to be only 8-years-old! Uh huh! I will tell you why I am smart, Nina Larue. Because it has not taken me long, long at all, to realize why I despise you so much. To realize why you're going to be the past very soon. You are merely hanging in shambles because Tiffany Lane. She left you! Hehehe! Oopsie, she's gone! Now who will help you? Erica Toughill? She doesn't like you, either. Erica Toughill is just a big mean grump who is merely holding on to my precious Agamemnon. She is keeping him warm for me!
[Iris' look turns into one of depression, missing her title Agamemnon. She quickly pushes this look away.]
IRIS: But Nina, you see, I know all about you. I learned so many things about you when you slept next to me a few months ago. When I had your body next to mine for weeks. I learned certain things. I realized you can never be independent. You are the type of person who can never be somebody without someone else. You're a nobody without Tiffany Lane. She was the star of the group. You stood in her shadows and knew it all along. Now... now that she is gone, you're left to fend for yourself, to make a new name for yourself... but you never will. Do you know why? Do you?
[Iris' gaze remains fixated on the camera.]
IRIS: I'm the reason why, Nina.
[The entire scene becomes even more eerie as Iris begins climbing on top of the table. She crawls on all fours toward the camera as if she is stalking it in some freakish way.]
IRIS: [slowly] You stand in my way of what I want. Erica Toughill. Dead. Six feet under as Erica said. Covered in dirt! Hehehe!
[Now sitting on her knees, Iris remains directly in front of the lens. She reaches to the side and grabs an old raggedy teddy bear. She hugs the bear closely.]
IRIS: So, Nina, I will ask you this. Can you overcome your past? Can you overcome your past to go into your future, or will you stand, alone, with no
one at all, ultimately destroyed? Because you'll never have the fame or glory Tiffany had. You will never have it because I'm going to end you on Conquest. I'm going to finish off your pathetic existence and no one is going to miss you. Because you're Nina Larue. You're a nobody. A mere nobody. Say goodbye, Nina. Goodbye.
[Iris begins giggling loudly and it echoes throughout the play room as we fade out.]
_________________________________
JEAN-PIERRE CELINE
O T C
__________________________________
{{Do you have any how humiliating it is, losing to Heather Owens? Of course you don’t. No one can know that horrific pain, other than the world’s greatest Vile "Vince" Viper imitator. Has Owens pinned anyone else? No. Just HIM. This isn’t the first time he’s thought of committing suicide. It was damned nice of Poet Wright to join him in the Power Structure, after he royally screwed her woman’s title reign by getting pinned by Heather FUCKING Owens. Actually... working with Poet Wright makes absolutely no sense. She hated him before her title loss, and costing her the belt, shouldn’t have ingratiated the annoying Frenchman with her. Whose idea was that? Did they even think about it? Seems mighty dumb... Mighty dumb. A knee-jerk decision to give the chick a new direction; despite the fact that it flies in the face of reason. How could they possibly hope to survive together in the Power Structure? ...But maybe that’s the point. Maybe they don’t need him. Maybe they don’t want him. They hate him. HOW COULD THEY ABANDON HIM? He IS their LEADER. Everyone likes him. Taylor, Wheeling, Starring, all the Power Structure look to him for... wait... Taylor, Greedy... FUCK. He's screwed. Still, the others sort of like him. What could change that? Oh right. Losing to Heather GOD DAMNED Owens. It is surrounded by thoughts of that devastating lose, that Jean Pierre Celine opens our scene trying to hang himself in the bathroom of a cheap hotel room.}}
Good Bye, Cruel World!
{{Celine jumps off his toilet seat. God this hotel is filthy. JDM Superstar is a CHEAP BASTARD.}}
ZOOT ALOoooooooooooooR!
#CRASH#
{{Forgetting to properly secure the rope to the ceiling, the second generation of VVV falls to the scum covered floor with a thud. Can’t even get suicide right. What do you expect from the man who lost to Heather Owens? The French man seems to sneer at the rope...}}
Fool me seven times, shame on you...
{{Reaching up, JPC tosses the rope over the shower rod... then catches his reflection in the bathroom mirror. What a fine portrait of a man...}}
‘ow could zzzey stick me in zzzat foul division? I’m a MAN!
{{At this point in the descriptive, Celine gives up on introspection, and starts to shove random objects down the front of his pants for the sake of accentuating his manhood. I write to amuse myself, fuck you. We’ll start with a bar of soap.}}
I’m a man god damn it. I shouldn’t be fighting floozies... I should be ‘anded zzze Fusion title on a silver platter. Oh, my track record isn’t zzze best... but unlike zzze SPW MEN’S division, I’m actually ENTERTAINING.
{{Soap on a rope... not big enough...}}
Quinn Scott... it seems like only yesterday we were involved in a four-way-dance. A multi-person scramble between all zzze new acquisitions, to see which of us new guys were actually worth watching. I was zzzere, and so were you. I can’t remember if you got zzze win, but I know I didn’t. My first singles match in zzzis dive, and my prospects were crushed. Oh, I went on to entertain, to both make DEATHKNELL watchable, and salvage zzze Invasion, zzzink of ‘ow lame zzzat would ‘ave been without zzze French phenomenon. ...Zzzere ‘ave been a dozen stories worth watching SPW for in zzze past year, and I was closely tied to zzze majority of zzzem. ...But zzzanks to zzzat one match, I was seen as expendable... zzze kid who’d draw gates without getting wins.
{{Bottle of shampoo. Head and shoulders. Head. Get it?}}
But who am I to complain? You came out of zzzat match worse zzzan me. I can draw without wins, but you drag zzze worst opponent to five stars without ever gaining a victory. I might ‘ave sucked at pointless multi-man matches, but you were so adept you’d spend zzze next two cycles wrestling in zzzem. Each zzzree-way, four-way, battle royal, six-man tag... each more useless zzzan zzze last.
{{Cucumber? Why would that be in a sleazy hotel room... oh yeah, not thinking of that though JPC has no qualms sticking it down his pants.}}
Perhaps we’ve finally broken zzze cycle? Me... I actually got pinned by ‘eather Owens. Sure, I might ‘ave avoided kicking out for zzze sake of pissing off Poet Wright, and degrading women everywhere... but I still lost to ‘eather Owens. When I was forced to join zzze Femme Squad, I didn’t zzzink I could sink any lower. ‘eather Owens. Zzzat’s as LOW as you go. So for zzze sake of ribbing one of my fellow Power Structures, I’ve lost all credibility as a woman’s wrestler. I’ve broken zzze chain. Do I get out of zzze woman’s division a few cycles before zzzat retarded penalty expires?
{{Wine bottle....looks kind of freakish...}}
...And in your case, you were all set to compete in a four-way dance for zzze Fusion title. Good old Scott. Zzze cornerstone of zzze Fusion division! When zzzey were first thinking of names to call zzzat title, I campaigned hard for "belt zzzat Quinn Scott can’t win." Always a bridesmaid, never a bride! You don’t stand a chance of ever winning zzzat chumpionship; because zzzey don’t respect you as a challenger... you can’t draw, like ME. So you zzzey ‘ave Eddie Christian, or Monet, or Baldwin, show up to entertain zzze fans while you put on your little "clinics" with Frost. ...But at zzze pay per view, you changed all zzzat... you gave up your four-way-dance to go on zzze warpath. Oh, you might ‘ave just switched to a battle royal, which is lame, but you still tried to define yourself as a REAL singles competitor, good for you. And it paid off! For zzze first time EVER... you ‘ave a REAL singles match.
Bad news is, you’re getting SQUASHED by moi.
{{Hammerhead shark. ....no idea.}}
So we’re at a crossroads. Are you zzze first step towards me reclaiming my GENDER, or am I zzze first step towards you getting credibility as something other zzzan Frost’s doormat?
{{Lil’ Timmy the Orphan. ...Celine decides to remove the child from his sweats before he gets a Frank Wilkes reputation.}}
Man I wish I could let you win zzzis Quinn. I like you. I owe you. I ‘ave NO DOUBT zzzat Victor Frost would ‘ave eventually remembered zzze ‘orrible atrocities I did to zzze lovely Allegra, and in a moment of sound reasoning, and continuity – not usually associated with our product – would ‘ave ended my career. Beating me to a screaming, crying, bloody pulp, like zzze adorable Frenchman zzzat I am. ...But you ran ‘im out! You said, I’m no one’s bitch, zzzis time it’s personal! Sick of wrestling you – and who can blame ‘im – Frost abandoned ‘is title, to move onto zzze world scene, and zzze prospect of NEVER wrestling you again. ...But you said "who needs zzze title, let’s ‘ave an even longer feud..." and zzze prospect drove ‘im to end ‘is career.
{{Player piano. ...work with me.}}
...Rather zzzan murder me, Frost looked at you, and took ‘is own life. I’m touched. I don’t know if you ran off my only rival for MY sake, or you’re... wait, who am I kidding, of course you did it for me. I’m touched Quinn.
{{A Greek chorus. Now who’s the real man?}}
...I’m so touched I’m going to throw zzze match, and let you win.
{{A Blue Whale!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!}}
...Zzzere’s only one problem. I can’t lose.
You see, my dick is ‘UGE.
I’m a real MAN.
Real men are winners.
So despite my best efforts, when we’re in zzzat ring, you’re going to end up flat on your back, watching zzze lights as I lay on top of you. Zzze world will know my manhood, and unfortunately, as a sacrificial lamb, it is you who will become zzze bitch.
Or my name isn’t Vile "Vince" Viper.
{{It isn’t. Fade to Celine trying to fit a roller coaster down the front of his pants...}}
_________________________________
QUINN SCOTT
O T C
__________________________________
[I-75's a little busy for this time of night. There are a high volume of cars on the highway, racing either northward or southward to their destination, with the Atlanta Skyline creeping ever so closer for some and shrinking into the distance for others. Apart from a few horn-blasts from impatient motorists, the only real sound heard is the dull roar of engines and the sound of tires kissing the pavement below it.]
[The screen fades into the interior of one vehicle; a limousine. Plush leather seating, a television towards the front playing some random movie that seems to be muted, a wet bar that seems to have been used enough times during the trip, and only two occupants. One is dressed in a tight blouse and a pair of designer jeans along with some white earphone buds, with a masterfully-cut mass of brown hair only accentuates her natural beauty.
Serena Black.
The other is not so fashionably dressed, wearing a solid white t-shirt and a pair of custom modified jeans, his black hair very nearly shielding his face from view, but we don't need to see it to know who it is. Who else travels with Serena Black these days anyway?
Who else but Quinn Scott?
Quinn seems to be leaning up against the window next to him, staring blankly out into the approaching Atlanta Skyline. If you didn't know him any better, you'd almost say he was anxious to get into the city... but you do know him better. You know that he's probably straight-lipped under his veil of hair, and his dull gray eyes are simply staring out blankly. Serena, however, has her gaze shifting between the video on the screen, Quinn himself, and trying to glance out his window to see what he's been looking at or for.]
Serena Black: You've been staring out that window for the last hour, Quinn. What's so interesting out there?
[Quinn quickly looks over at Serena for a moment, then goes back to looking out his window, giving no response in the interim.]
Serena: And I wanted to ask. Why are we driving all the way to Atlanta? Why couldn't we have flown? Not that it hasn't been a decent trip, Quinn... honestly, I didn't think you'd stop talking the entire time we were driving through Florida, of course, then you shut up for some reason. Still, why not fly?
[Quinn doesn't even turn around to look at her this time, and still doesn't answer her. This unsettles Serena a little as she scoots a bit closer to him.]
Serena: Are you alright? I mean, you haven't said anything`for hours, and as soon as Atlanta came into sight, you've been staring out the window. I mean, I know I took advantage of that whole "talkative Quinn" thing, but don't tell me that upset you THIS much.
[Quinn shakes his head, and while Serena is relieved to get some manner of response from him, it's not exactly what she wanted.]
Serena: Then what is it? Why haven't you said anything?
[Almost absentmindedly, Quinn points at his ears and then at Serena. Serena ponders that for a second, and the realizes what he means. The headphone buds. He stopped talking once she put them on.]
Serena: OH! *taking the buds out of her ears* Well, why didn't you say anything?
Quinn Scott: You had the buds in your ears.
Serena: It's not as if I wouldn't have heard you. Seriously, you kept quiet for all that time because of the headphones.
[Quinn nods his head, and Serena lets out a small chuckle.]
Serena: I almost thought I said something I shouldn't have.
Quinn: If you did, I would have told you.
Serena: Yeah, you would have.
[Serena's gaze goes to the approaching skyline, as well. Curious as to why it has garnered Quinn's attention for the last hour and hoping to see a specific reason why. However, she can't seem to divine why.]
Serena: Rich Patterson's been a little chatty, don't you think?
Quinn: Hmm?
Serena: Well, he's been tweeting enough about last Conquest. Even talked about your beatdown and asked if people still thought he couldn't hang with the best.
Quinn: Who's thinking I'm the best, now?
Serena: I think it was a bit of a verbal smack, Quinn.
Quinn: A weak one, too. I'm pretty sure that enough people in Shootfire didn't mind seeing me get beaten down after Charity Carnage and all of that.
[Serena sits back a little, looking dead straight at Quinn... and looking a little worried.]
Serena: Like the Power Structure?
[Quinn breaks from his staring contest with the Skyline and actually looks at Serena, tilting his head a little... almost like he's a bit confused.]
Quinn: Who?
Serena: You know! JDM Superstar? The guy you saw harassing me! Threatened to put me in a match with that fruit, Jean Pierre Celine, until you showed up... and then booked you to fight Celine this week instead.
[Serena looks out the window, her voice quieting a little.]
Serena: ...and offering you a place in The Power Structure if you win.
[This sudden change in mood doesn't escape Quinn's notice... but he doesn't say anything. He simply turns back to view the skyline, which has come closer than when we first noticed it. Serena glances at Quinn, still not used to his aloofness, despite having spent enough time around him.]
Serena: You're not really considering it, are you?
Quinn: What? The Power Structure?
Serena: Yes. You're not actually thinking of joining them? I mean, I can't say that I'm not surprised that they'd offer you a spot. You took out Victor Frost and you humiliated the Black Mass for them. Of course that asshole Marsh would try to sink his claws into you, especially since he just lost four of his enforcers, and that slimy ex of mine may also be out the door, too. Now all he's left with Covington, Kageboushi, and that cheese-eating, gender-confused, asshole Celine.
[Serena can't help but smile at that thought, but Quinn obviously doesn't notice it or see it.]
Serena: They lost all their real muscle... and now they want you, and they'd have to make you try to jump through hoops for it, wouldn't they? Just to irritate the hell out of me, huh, Marsh? Did I really aggravate you that much? Now, since you can't touch me, you're gonna try to get a hold of my guy and...
Quinn: What was that?
Serena: Huh?
Quinn: You're monologuing.
[Serena gets a questioning look on her face, and then starts laughing at her own dramatis.]
Serena: Oh, I'm sorry, Quinn. I just find it funny, that not only JDM wants to recruit you into The Power Structure, but despite being so desperate to have his ranks replenished, he'd still try to make you prove yourself.
Quinn: And exactly what do I have to prove, Serena?
Serena: Well, he's putting you in the match with Celine and...
Quinn: And what? What makes that so much different from what I've been doing now? I never cared who I was put in the ring with, so long as I get into the ring with someone. It's only when I start caring people seem to get worried, isn't it?
Serena: So you're saying you..?
Quinn: Don't care about fighting whoever this Celine guy is?
[Quinn looks over his shoulder, gazing at Serena. Most of his hair is out of his face, so we get a clear shot of his sunken-in eyes and his straight-lipped face.]
Quinn: Pretty much. He's just a body, Serena... and I'm gonna do to it what I've done to all the others.
[And then, Quinn turns his head, and his gaze, back to the approaching skyline.]
Quinn: ...and I hate flying commercially.
[Serena just sits there for a minute, soaking some of that up, as she reaches down and puts her headphone buds back in. The screen then cuts to a shot of I-75, and we see the limo drive towards Atlanta with the other cars on the road before we fade out.]
_________________________________
THE Y&B
O T C
__________________________________
[The camera opens up in Cecconi's Restaurant and the glamorous "Post Grammys" party being thrown by Antonio "L.A." Reid. There is loud music blaring and drinks being passed around like crazy.
Who is there? Why, it's none other than The Young and Beautiful. They're there to celebrate Lady Gaga's wins at the Grammys! "Sensuous" Samantha Bevins is shown with Nikki James and Tiffany Lane walking around being fabulous, of course. Samantha is wearing a knee-length black sequin Dior dress with designer heels; her long, blond hair is worn super-straight. Nikki is wearing a red Yves St Laurent dress with designer heels; her long brown hair styled up. She has a glass of wine in her hand. Tiffany is clad in a black, low-cut, Gucci mini dress and heels, her blond hair falling down her back in ringlets.
Samantha turns to Nikki and Tiffany.]
SSB: This is how it feels to be Young and Beautiful, girls. We were invited on behalf of Ms. Gaga. She knows what big fans we are and how we just love using her music for our themes. Nikki here used "Just Dance" and I've become quite accustomed to "Paparazzi." And well... as a unit we're going to be using "The Fame." [she smiles confidently] She and I have become quite great friends. I love how she's unique and is always herself. That is, after all, what being Young and Beautiful is all about, isn't it?
[Samantha continues to sip her champagne before speaking again.]
SSB: Look at this place. It just radiates greatness. Look at all these beautiful people and how we fit in. You see, this place is much different than the SPW. Because SPW is full of ugly people. People like Tina Davis, Heather Owens, Poet Wright and Kieran Rae. [she grimaces] Disgusting pigs who call themselves women. They try to represent SPW with their pettiness and well, it just doesn't work. I'm so glad to be with the most beautiful and talents ladies of SPW. Tiffany Lane and Nikki James.
[Nikki clinks her glass against Samantha's and Tiffany's. Tiffany smiles brightly.]
Tiffany: Thank _you_, Samantha. It’s an honor to finally be with the SPW’s best and brightest.
Nikki: I wouldn't have it any other way. And you're absolutely right,
Sam...there is _WAY_ too much pettiness floating around the SPW women's locker room. Heather Owens knows how much she'd rather be with us than hanging around with that skank, Tina Davis.
Don't believe me. Let the evidence speak for itself.
She pretty much dresses like me and even went as far as to use a song by Roxette in an attempt to have an entrance as grand as mine. But the one thing she can never emulate like me is class. She proves it everytime she speaks in that god awful French dialect and utters her catchphrase -- "Class dismissed." Dismissed as in "to reject"; as in she is clearly rejecting any sense of class from her being.
Then again, her initials ARE H.O. and we all know how THOSE kind of people can be.
[All three women laugh.]
Nikki: And how about Poet Wright? Poor girl is in DESPERATE need of a makeover or an attitude adjustment. All that cutting she is doing is certainly not good for her skin. Hey Sam, doesn't she remind you of that poor little girl we helped back in Calgary... what was her name again?
SSB: I think it was Amanda.
[Nikki looks directly into the camera for the first time and is pretty serious.]
Nikki: Ah yes...Amanda. And just like her, you, Poet Wright, are living in the dark. Maybe THAT'S why you chose to work with Kieran Rae two weeks ago to turn the lights off during my match and attack me from behind. Oh, I know it was you so don't try denying it. You were clearly jealous that I was a mere second away from wearing the SPW Women's title -- a prize that you seem to think should only be on YOUR mantlepiece.
[Pause.]
Nikki: Well keep on being jealous because after I knock some sense into you in Atlanta, I WILL go after the SPW Women's title again while you are stuck doing other people's bidding.
Yes, Poet...it's no secret that Jean Pierre Celine is getting his reprieve from the women's division and that you are being scouted as the Power Structure's new charge -- JDM's poor attempt to compete with the Young and Beautiful in a domain we hold most dear.
Too bad all they will end up with is a sad black chick who was probably the last kid picked in gym class and still carries that trauma inside.
Isn't that why you cut yourself, Poet? Does it take your mind off your losses when you do that?
Well, I'm sorry but in Atlanta it's going to be no different. Another loss for you... Another scrape of the razor.
At least give me the pleasure of being the one who hands you the blade at the end of the match.
[She suddenly turns her attention to something or someone off-camera and her serious nature turns playful again.]
Nikki: OH MY GOD! IT'S THE SITUATION FROM MTV'S JERSEY SHORE!
Tiffany: No. I think that’s Orchid. Check the stubble.
[The three women laugh.]
Tiffany: I’m quite honestly surprised that silly skank signed the contract to fight me. Doesn’t that tranny realize what she’s getting herself into? I’m an SPW institution, one of the best of the very best. She’s just a no-name, no-talent drop shot, who lucked her way here. And she honestly thinks that she’s going to beat me!?!
[Tiffany smirks, giving a toss of her mane.]
Tiffany: Bitch, please! I will bury that loser and put her back where she belongs. Young and Beautiful are on their way to the top and we’re not about to let anyone stop us, especially some pathetic newcomer without any game!
Nikki: That's right. When my girl Tiffany is finished, you'll be one orchid that doesn't smell so sweet.
SSB: And maybe then her little boyfriend will smarten up and see what a REAL woman is like.
Tiffany: Yea, one without a huge ass Adam’s apple!
[The women laugh again as Tiffany turns to face Nikki.]
Tiffany: And honey, Poet is the least of your worries. You will have no problem beating her down and putting her in the psych ward. Take it from a woman that’s beaten her thousands of times. Poet’s bark is much worse than her bite.
SSB: Someone needs to put that freak up on the shelf. For good. I think you'll easily do it this coming Conquest, Nikki.
[SSB turns and looks at Tiffany.]
SSB: And Tiff. Allow me to say now that I did always know you were on the same level as Nikki and myself. Our elaborate plan to destroy Kieran Rae all along was one of greatness. It will go down in the storybooks of Shootfire. I know this little bout with Orchid will be nothing less than a warm-up for you, dear.
[An evil grin.]
SSB: Then one of you will bag the title and we'll be riding the high horse here in SPW. Not that we are not already. Hell, I practically already own this damn place. And you two are the queens of the women's division. I don't see how much greater we can make this place, really.
All I know is that these peasants, these ingrates who call themselves "competition" are going to be shelved in no time. This week we begin with Orchid and Poet Wright. Then... comes Heather Owens and in the end, Kieran Rae.
Don't you just love the pathetic wimp Kieran Rae is? I find it classic. But alas, not as classic as the Young and Beautiful. To us, ladies. To the Young... and...
Tiffany/Nikki: BEAUTIFUL.
[The three clink their glasses together and take a sip of their drinks. Samantha turns her head to the right and smiles radiantly as someone motions them to a nearby room.]
SSB: Looks like Lady Gaga is personally requesting us. I suppose she wants to take photographs with her. Feels incredible to be us, doesn't it ladies? Shall we?
[Nikki and Tiffany nod, both fully smiling. The three walk toward the room as we fade out.]
_________________________________
POET WRIGHT
O T C
__________________________________
[Fade in:
Poet Wright sits alone. Have we ever seen her with anybody? Ever? She touches the ruins of her cheek. The fresh cuts have scabbed and the scarification process is well underway. The former handsomeness is still evident, but the cutting that she has done to herself has made her ghastly to the average eye. She rakes her fingers through her matted, tangled locs. She twists some between her fingers and pulls hard, enjoying the pain and sensation and then she starts to laugh. The laughter sounds like tears. No joy exists within it at all. She rocks back and forth, pulling at her hair, her joyless laugh stretching the painfully fresh scars striping her mouth and cheeks.]
Poet: So Tiffany, you couldn't stand not being in the spotlight, could you? You couldn't stand being overshadowed and overlooked. You couldn't stand that someone else was Young and Beautiful. You couldn't fight your nature, could you? I told everyone who would listen that you were nothing. You were trash. You couldn't keep faking it, could you? No, you have always been the jealous type. You have always wanted to be everything that I am. But you can't be because I'm too honest for the
likes of you. And now you have your new little Kari Stevens to overshadow again. Young and Beautiful is just another empty redux of the Sisters of Seduction because Tiffany Lane isn't about anything except a shallow spotlight. Well, I know it will be like old times when I take on your teammate, Nikki James.
[When Poet Wright smirks people cringe. The thick ropy keloids that twist her Chelsea smile do ghastly things as they reform over the muscles.]
Poet: Nikki James, has this really been what you've become. Weren't you supposed to be so tough, so vicious, such a fighter? Weren't you supposed to be the "pretty" Poet Wright? Weren't you the one that spoiled my perfect season? And now look at you. Now look at what you've become. Vapid and useless as well. Now you're just another retread of a mean girls gimmick that isn't you, but is the essence of Tiffany Lane. No wonder you needed her to join Young and Beautiful. You needed the authenticity. You aren't really real. We can tell that when we look at you. You're not about this. You're supposed to be tough, but obviously you aren't that, either. Do you really think this enhances you as a contender? Let's see, you're supposedly young, blonde and ruthless. Tiffany is blonde and ruthless and more experienced than you. How long is it before she uses this to steal your shine? To steal your place as she is doing nothing but trying to become the four time champion before me.
[Again the ghastly smile corrupts her face as Poet scratches at her scalp.]
Poet: It will never happen so long as I'm breathing. Young and Beautiful, you will not be capturing a title. You will be suffering from ignominy. This is I vow. They may have stolen the championship from me, but I still control its destiny. Heather Owens, you remember that. I know you're gloating now. I know you're liking the idea that you're some clever rookie who had to connive to beat the odds and became champion and now you'll defend it by hook or by crook. You're not doing anything special. I won the championship my rookie year and I defended it with honour as I always have. I have never needed chicanery and I have never been beatable in the ring. So, you come to ringside and you watch and you try to market yourself. You're still the same pathetic little backstage interviewer you always were no matter how much French you spew, no matter how many clever little plans you come up with to hold onto your title. You will never be greater than I am. You will never be more important. You will never control your title. I will.
[She pauses for a beat.]
Poet: Ask management, they tell you that I kill bitches dead. It's true. And that means that at Conquest in Atlanta, Georgia, they're going to be three new openings on the roster because you three bitches ...
[She stretches her mouth wide open as she roars at the camera. Skin that had been barely clinging together rips and fresh blood starts to run from the unhealed cuts.]
Poet: ... are bloody dead.
[Fade out]
______________________________________________________
"HEARTLESS" JAKOB VOLGA vs BLAKE COVINGTON
OTC
______________________________________________________
[The arena suddenly begins to flash with dark red colors, as the fans slowly begin to show their disapproval. "Fight" begins to blare throughout the arena, as a slow chorus of boos begin to erupt.]
"I,
I know your every move
I've heard your every word
I know you well
And I've,
got nothing left to prove
your threats I find absurd
I am your hell
Every time,
You think that I'm done
I come back stronger (stronger)
Every time,
You think that you've got me
I will fight you"
[JDM and Blake walk out on the stage, as Blake just looks around, his face void of any emotion or reaction from the fans. Finally, both men make their walk toward the ring. JDM laughs and tells the people to get out of his way.]
"I will fight,
till there's nothing left
till my legs are gone
You won't forget me
'Cause I will fight,
till my final breath
just to see you fall
I'll make you fear me
Every time,
You think I'm done
I'll come back stronger (stronger)"
[About halfway down the aisle, Blake stops and looks at a ringside fan, who screams an obscenity at him. Blake attempts to react to the fan, but JDM gets in between them, pushing Blake towards the ring.]
And every time,
You think that you've got me
I will fight you
And I will put you in the ground
'Cause I will fight,
Till there's nothing left
Till my legs are gone
you won't forget me
Every time,
You think I'm done
I'll come back stronger (stronger)"
[Blake reaches ringside, and crawls through the middle ropes and into the ring. He walks to the nearest corner and climbs up to the middle turnbuckle, raising both fists high in the air in confidence. Fire begins to spray down from above, highlighting the Chosen One in a circle of flame against the dark shadow.]
"And every time,
You think that you've got me
I will fight you
Every time,
You think that I'm done
I'll come back stronger (stronger)
And every time,
You think that you've got me
I will fight you"
Steve Stone: Coming to the ring now, representing the Power Structure, accompanied by JDM SUPERSTAR.....from Poplar Bluff, Missouri......weighing in at 285 pounds......he is Shootfire's CHOSEN ONE............BLAKE COVINGTON!!!!!
"And I will put you in the ground"
["Hellrider" by Judas Priest begins to play as the lights go dim in the arena.Slowly, strobes begin to flash on and off, in sequence as the audience roars and cheers out, and the slow guitar intro begins to buzz. Lights flash and blare as the curtain leading from backstage quickly part as the man known as "Heartless" Jakob Volga makes his way out from the back! Wearing his black leather jacket, brand new red "Back From The Dead" shirt, and a pair of blue jeans. He stops for a moment at the top of the ramp to raise his taped right fist high into the air!!]
"Here they come
These gods of steel
Megatron
Devouring what's concealed"
[HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE FAAAAACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Stone: Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome back to the SPW ring...
"HEAARRRRTLESSS" JAAAKOB! VOOOLLLLLGGGGAAAA!!!!!!
"Speed of Death
Crossfired they stare
Final breath
From vapourizing glares"
[CAN'T STOP THE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
"Raised to man oppressed
Sign of persecution
Hellrider
Rocks through the night
Hellrider
Raised for the fight"
[Jakob makes his way down the ramp, trying to slap every hand that reaches out for him, and there are certainly a lot of people who want to welcome back the "Killing Machine".]
"All incensed
To overthrow
Strong defence
With armaments they grow"
[Jakob now moves to the other side of the ring, greeting anyone and everyone.]
"By this quest
Their fates renowned
Put to rest
Abominations grow"
[After slapping a few hands around ringside, he finally makes it to the steps, walks up to the apron, wipes off his black boots, stopping for a moment with a huge grin on his face.]
"Time to ram it down
Judgement for the tyrant"
[Jakob enters the ring between the top and middle rope. As soon as he gets in, he beelines for the center of the ring, raising that fist high in the air again. He puts his head back, eyes closed, drinking in the cheers of the crowd as his music hits the chorus and then fades...]
"Hellrider
Rocks through the night
Hellrider
Raised for the fight"
****DINGDINGDING!****
[FANS CHEER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: Volga and Blake squaring off, the rookie monster talking trash in the veteran's face! Oh kid, bad luck, HJV has earned too much to be disrespected by a newbie!
Tara: Volga jawing right back! And telling Blake Covington off! Blake with words for the prizefighter and these fans want to see HJV land him on his ass!
Vik: VOLGA in Blake's face!! Nose to nose and running his mouth BLAKE PIEFACES HIM AWAY!
[HUGE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Tara: VOLGA COLD COCKS COVINGTON!!!
[HUGE FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: BLAKE DOWN! And getting up VOLGA with the overhead blow to the back! Again! right cross! Left hook! Uppercut! And HAYMAKER!!
Tara: Covington stunned and Jakob with the head, runs him HEADFIRST into the corner!!
[Blake bounces back as Volga shouts in his ear and whipping the powerhouse around, sends him rushing at the ropes but Blake puts the foot down and reverses the whip to send Jakob into the side, catches him and tosses him overhead to launch a belly to belly suplex!!]
[CROWD POPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: WHOOOAAAA! YOU JUST DON'T _DO_ THAT TO "HEARTLESS" JAKOB VOLGA!!!
Tara: OH MY GOD! VOLGA getting up and COVINGTON WITH THE RUNNING EUROPEAN UPPERCUT!!
[HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: JAKOB knocked down!! And Covington right on him! Into the air and INVERTED ATOMIC DROP! HJV hurt, Blake with the lock and takes him over SPINEBUSTER!!!
Tara: WOW. These fans shocked as the musclebound Blake Covington, at 6'3 and 285 pounds just talking trash to the arena, yelling over the side as it's all Jakob Volga can do to crawl up. The Chosen One running his mouth in spite and sheer contempt for these SPW fans, and now over to yell down at HJV!
Vik: Asking if this is the best Shootfire's got! Volga trying to rise, Blake for the gutwrench Powerbomb
Tara: VOLGA WITH THE BACK BODY DROP!!
[FANS CHEER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: VOLGA WITH AN ELBOWDROP RIGHT INTO THE CHEST!! UP AND KNEEDROP! UP AND ELBOWDROP AGAIN!! And Volga with the head, pulling Blake over as quickly as he can sets him Upside Down and THE PILEDRIVER!
[HUGE FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Tara: Blake Covington trying to get up, "Heartless" Jakob Volga with the irish whip to the corner!! BLAKE REVERSING AGAIN! VOLGA SENT INTO THE TURNBUCKLE!
[Blake charges as fast as he can but Jakob gets the boot up! He stops Covington in his tracks and whipping Blake into the corner, Volga follows with a charging lariat! He hits a snapmare takedown, and then hitting the ropes comes off with a running kick to the back of the head! Covington flies over as the fans in Georgia cheer out- and Jakob measures then charges across the ring! Blake sits up and Volga comes rushing with the knee at the face but Blake catches it and hooking the leg rises up to lift Jakob into the air and slam the single leg Powerbomb!!]
[CROWD ROARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: HE CAUGHT HIM! NAILED HIM! AND BOTH MEN DOWN!
Tara: Blake rolling over, shaking his head out, Jakob really took him down on that exchange. HJV feeling the fire, but also feeling the pain his neck whiplashed on that tremendous powerbomb!
Vik: Yeah most people do NOT throw HJV around like that! This Blake Covington, the Chosen One for a reason!
Tara: Volga rolling over and trying to get up, but Blake to his feet and Volga swings the lariat! COVINGTON DUCKED! HE HAS THE WAIST!
[HUGE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: AND GERMAN SUPLEXES VOLGA HARD! KEEPS IT LOCKED!
Tara: Volga taken up, Blake trying to take him up again and Volga battering out! Back elbowsmash to the teeth!! Oh! Takes him over the knee and BACKBREAKER! No! Not done- up and SHORT ARM CLOTHESLINE! Hauling the big man up over his shoulder and RUNS WITH THE POWERSLAM INTO THE MIDDLE OF THE RING!!
***WWHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!***
[FANS CHEER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: Well that turned it around, talk about power! Ha ha "Heartless" Jakob Volga showing the kid a few tips or two about what it means to throw your opponent around!
Tara: Yeah talk about not being used to being thrown around! Blake Covington sitting up and VOLGA WITH THE RUNNING KNEESMASH INTO THE FACE!!
***CRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!***
[MONSTER POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: NAILED HIM!!
Tara: VOLGA THROUGH THE AIR! DOUBLE KNEEDROP TO THE STOMACH!!
[FANS CHEER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: Oh and ouch too. Guts a plunder by the Heartless One. And now as Blake trying to get up, wallowing in his own distraction, Jakob sneaking up from behind! Quick on the blind side and VOLGA WRAPS IN THE REAR NAKED CHOKE!!
[HUGE FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Tara: Wear him down, grind him out!
Vik: You know that's exactly what you do, you take the wind out of the mamaluke and he won't have the strength to toss you around, you ground him down and keep him there! After all, we're all the same size on the mat.
Tara: The veteran Volga in control, command of the throat as the Referee asking Covington if he wants to give. HJV will not release and Blake saying no, but it's all he can do to stay in this. No shame in surrendering to HJV and everyone in this arena knows it.
[Volga squeezes tight, shouting "Ask him Ref!" as he pulls in the lock even tighter. Blake fights, eyes bulge and he sits up to get a leg out! Head straining to get free, Covington stands them both up!! The fans yell in shock as Blake kicks back and slams himself into Volga, squashing him down!]
[MONSTER HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: THIS KID IS AMAZING!
Tara: The fight in this guy! Blake Covington just smashed Volga into the canvas, and now can he come back and rally to win this match? Remember HJV has been out of the ring for ages now and the rust has got to be affecting him no matter how hard he trains.
Vik: Oh yeah I know Tara, it's been months, months! Volga rolling over, devastated and Blake backing up, Volga to his feet slowly- Covington seeing red and runs right at his leg!!
[FANS SCREAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Tara: VOLGA SPUN OUT AND BLAKE SHOULDER FIRST INTO THE TURNBUCKLE!!
[CROWD CHEERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: HE SUCKERED HIM IN!! USING THE FANS AS HIS EYES!
[Volga waits as Blake staggers around and HJV lets the Heart Punch Fly!!]
[MONSTER FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: STRUCK HIM DEAD!
Tara: COVINGTON IS DOWN!!
Vik: BLAKE DOWN AND IN THE ROPES!!!
Tara: HJV TRYING TO DRAG HIM OUT!!
[Blake is sliding away and JDM has his hands!! Volga pulls at the legs and the Referee shouts at Marsh to let go, and Jakob rips so hard he pulls JDM into the ring! The fans roar out as the Executive Vice President sits up fast, arms up and pleading! Covington rolls from the ring as the fans want to see Jakob knock JDM out!!]
[MASSIVE FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Tara: VOLGA HAS JDM TRAPPED!
Vik: AWW DO IT! DO IT! HIT HIM OUT!!
Tara: JDM YELLING - COVINGTON IN THE RING AND HE HAS A CHAIR!
[FANS SCREAMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: BLAKE FROM BEHIND! AND HJV TURNS AND PUNCHES THE CHAIR -
****CRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSHHHHH!!!!*****
Vik: RIGHT INTO HIS FACE!!
[MONSTER FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Tara: HJV shouting and holding his hand! He might have broken it!
[The Referee shouts out waving like crazy and calling for the bell! He heads across the ring and ducks outside to shout to the ring announcer as Blake tries to recover, sitting up and holding his forehead and tries to stay conscious! Volga drops to a knee, holding his fingers as the bell begins to ring!]
***DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING!!!!***
[CROWD BOOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Stone: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE REFEREE HAS DECLARED THIS FIGHT A DOUBLE DQ!!
[MASSIVE HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Vik: WHAT! DOUBLE DISQUALIFICATION!?
Tara: THEY BOTH GOT DQED FOR USING THE CHAIR!!
[JDM shouts at ringside, slamming the apron in frustration. Blake leaves the ring as he glares at Volga, promising retribution. HJV stands right up, and Covington steps through the side, telling Jakob this isn't over. Volga stares after him, as JDM urges Blake to leave the ringside area, pointing at "Heartless" Jakob Volga and telling him he got lucky.]
Vik: No love lost between Volga and the Power Structure, they may have met a formidable enemy they cannot so easily deal with.
Tara: JDM's brains running a mile a minute, as he's talking Blake down from getting back in there. You can see real dissention in the ranks as Covington would love nothing more than to get in there, but Volga has the chair and discretion is the better part of valor.
Vik: There will be another time for these two juggernauts, mark my words Tara. And when they do lock up, it's going to get brutal. What a fight. HJV and Blake Covington, letting it all hang out right here on SPW OTC.
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DAVE PIETKA
O T C
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[The Georgia Dome is empty. Completely barren. There is no ring, no chains, the floor hasn't even been swept by the arena's cleaning crew yet. Like some desolate wasteland that had been hastily abandoned, the near-fetid reminants of whatever could pass for a 'civilization' clinging to the ground like a visible carbon footprint. As of this moment, it's still four days before the SPW crew arrives to turn this pit into a paradise... but as empty as the arena is, you can't help but feel a presence here.]
*SLAM!*
[The echo of a steel door crashing against the wall before slowly and almost silently closing back into its frame rings in the empty arena, replaced only by the soft tapping of footprints on the floor, along with the crackling, ripping sound of feet prying itself off of whatever substance had been spilled beneath it. We see a man's form walking towards the center of the ruined-looking arena, dressed rather non-descriptively, and then stopping abruptly.]
Non-Descript Man: We all saw it, didn't we? Many of us had to, since our planes didn't leave until the morning and there wasn't a decent-enough bar in the hotel we were staying at. But still, even if you didn't see it, you knew about it. You knew ALL about it. The swagger he had coming down. The chains dancing across his chest as he walked. The lack of intent you could read in his eyes, not that it would have been easy to read in the first place, considering the men in the ring.
But it was the action itself. That bold exclaimation point at the end of a breathtakingly descriptive sentence that people remember the most.
Like a twist in an M. Night Shyamalan movie... only you really DIDN'T see it coming.
...and it didn't suck.
[The figure seems to fidgit a little, and his head wildly looks around and up.]
Non-Descript Man: Oh, Gods... CAN WE GET SOME LIGHT IN HERE, PLEASE?
*BZZZZT!*
[Electricity crackles lightly and quickly as we get the dim ray of light shining down on our speaker, and we get a light outline of his slender frame and long hair, draped in a simple t-shirt and a pair of pants. He audibly sighs, but shrugs.]
Slender, Long-Haired, yet Otherwise Non-Descript Man: Of course, then came all the questions. The leading of which simply being, "Why?" Why would he do that? It wasn't so why he attacked him, but why he did what he did afterwards. It's one thing to come out and beat a man when he's down. We do it all the time. It's part of the job description, after all. "Show Up At Arena, Throw Guys Around, Take Bumps, Kick Poor Bastards When Their Down." In that order, too. But still, it even isn't that much why he did what he did after he did what he did, but WHO IT WAS THAT DID WHAT HE DID AFTER HE DID WHAT HE DID, AND WHY HE DID IT IN THE FIRST PLACE!
...and I'll give you a minute to stop your brain from spinning after saying that.
...Gods know I need to.
[As he stays silent for a moment, simply facing forward, the light had gotten brighter. His face is slowly becoming visible, but it still remains dark, like his facial hair was shadowing his appearance from further view... at least until the light gets brighter.]
Slender, Long-Haired, Scruffy-Faced, yet Otherwise Non-Descript Man: The fact that it was who it was raises more questions about the man himself rather than the action he committed. I mean, we've all known this man for quite some time. I'd like to think I know him a slight better than some, but not many. There are a lot of aspects I didn't know about him before, but I knew enough where it mattered... he wasn't the hardest person to read, after all. Noble intentions usually make for the best tells, but this? I have to admit, even I didn't see it coming... and I'm probably the hardest motherfucker on this roster to surprise.
And yet, there it is. One of SPW's Super-Heroes, one of their near-mythological figures, decided to come down and commit an act from so far out of left field... people are now questioning his very character, despite that it was probably something I would have done myself.
...but I didn't.
...he did.
...and boiled down, it's got people asking one simple question.
[By now the light has turned on full, and we see our formerly 'Non-Descript Man' standing in full, illuminated, view. Of course, with the track star build, long hair, permanent facial shadow, and as we can now see, his lips stretched into a wild grin... it really could only be one person.]
"Heavy Mental" Dave Pietka: What the fuck, Sammy?
[Your Ol' Pal Voodoo stands there for a moment, his smile having left his face, leaning in a little and shrugging his shoulders, like he's expecting to hear an answer from someone. After a few moments, he simply stands back up straight again and his smile returns, though not as wild as it was.]
D. Pietka: I can understand your motives, Sammy, so don't get me wrong on that account. I know what the frustration is like when you try to recapture a tit-... oh, wait. No, I don't. I don't know because I never got MY rematch. Ain't that about a bitch? Folks seemed to be too wrapped up into you that they just couldn't be bothered to, y'know, FULFILL THEIR CONTRACTUAL OBLIGATIONS!
...not that I'm bitter about that or anything. I guess I just can't relate to you on that account.
[Pietka chuckles softly, bobbing his shoulder as he does it... rather obviously, too. He shakes his head as he stops and then looks back to the camera.]
D. Pietka: Still, there was also the fact that you got cheated out of my belt... and yes, I know what I said. I mean, that match at Iconoclasm! Where Andrew Davis so blatantly cheated to rip the SPW World Championship away from you was just horri-... OH, SNAP! That shit didn't happen, either, did it? Andrew Davis beat you cleaner than a hot knife going through butter. Oh, damn... well, there WAS Charity Carnage, right? I mean, taking cheap shot after cheap shot... using the ropes for leverage, how the hell could you have won against all tha-...
[Pietka stops again, almost like he's being slapped across the ass with a revelation.]
D. Pietka: SHIT!
[He shakes his head in amazement.]
D. Pietka: That wasn't Andrew that did all that... that was YOU! YOU were the one who went after his bad knee... YOU were the one who refused to release holds... YOU were the one who tried to choke him out on the ropes... YOU were the one who hesitated and couldn't get the last pinfall in time... YOU were beaten again. Cleanly, I might add. Andrew Davis survived by the skin of his teeth, and you couldn't rip my belt away from him.
Ok, so many I can't understand your motives, Sammy.
Imagine that.
[Pietka folds his arms, tilts his head to the side, and lets out a loud breath.]
D. Pietka: So you came out, dropped Andrew Davis on his melon head, and then draped Vince Viper over him for a three-count. Basically telling the SPW that, since you can't beat Andrew Davis, you're just gonna have to punk him out like a little bitch and let someone else take his lunch money.
...does this sound familiar to ANYONE ELSE but me?
Don't get me wrong. I ain't got no love for Andrew Davis, but that ain't to say I don't respect him, his skill, or his abilities. If the fucker beats me in a match, I ain't about to chase him down and have him eat canvas just because of it. My knickers don't twist that easily.
[Pietka eyes narrow, and they take on a hateful, vengeful glint.]
D. Pietka: But I KNOW what it is like to have some bitter little bitch come out and cost me my championship!
[And then they change... into a look of severe disappointment.]
D. Pietka: And Sammy... I, honest to God, thought you were better than that!
[Voodoo stares into the camera, and you almost start to think that he was actually hurt by Sammy's actions. It's weird, isn't it? Funny how the past can often come back to haunt those who seem to have forgotten it, but Pietka looks like he's almost taking it harder than he should be.]
D. Pietka: I never despised you, Sammy. You may have been the guy who stole MY lunch money, but you weren't the little bitch who beat it out of me. But, you see, I'm having a very hard time sympathizing with your plight. If you recall, after you stole my lunch money, I never got a chance to get it back... I never got the chance to get my hands on the little bitch... but I never went after you, Sammy. I never even thought about doing what you did to Andrew Davis.
I wasn't going to be the bitter little bitch.
[Pietka unfolds his arms and shoves them in his pocket, and now a look of utter disdain appears on his face.]
D. Pietka: So you lost my championship to Andrew Davis... so you couldn't get it back... and I guess that was enough for you to cross that threshhold, wasn't it? You couldn't get my lunch money fairly... so you just let someone else take it.
Personally, I don't care who has it. It's MY... FUCKING... BELT! I WILL get it back, and how I do it won't be a pretty thing to behold. It won't be about entertainment... it won't be about the people... it won't even be about the Evil Voodoo Army, Sheeple and Ever-Faithful Alike. It will be about taking back what is rightfully mine.
But as for you, Sammy? As for your inability to cope with losing the object that validated your existence and proved only to yourself that you were beyond what you once were?
[Unceremoniously, Pietka's hand comes out of his pocket, shoving his middle figure into everyone's view... from behind it, you can see a vicious sneer on Pietka's face, making his distate and anger for Sammy Knight more than visibly apparent.]
D. Pietka: ...cry me a motherfuckin' river, bitch.
[And as unceremoniously as it came up, Pietka drops his hand and shoves it back into his pocket. Without another word, he walks out of the light and back the way he came, the echo of his footsteps and the "rip-rip-rip" sounds of the floor being all we hear as he walks away...]
*CHOOM!*
[And the light simply goes out, as we fade.]
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SAMMY KNIGHT
O T C
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[Compton, California.]
[Rain drizzles down from the gray Southern California sky. A brisk air blows gently as we approach a football field; an empty football field at that. The scoreboard about the north end of the field reads, "Centennial High School: Home of the Apaches." Puddles have formed around the dilapidated track which circles the field.]
[We approach a man sitting in solitude, staring out across the naked field. He's wearing a black Sean John parka and a black pair of a jeans as the fur-rimmed hood is pulled over his head. The bill of his baseball cap pokes out from underneath the hood. The man sits, apparently uninterested in being bothered. As the camera moves closer
to over his shoulder and pans around slowly, we reveal that it is Sammy Knight.]
[The man who came up one second short from reclaiming the SPW World Championship stares into the camera with an almost disgusted look. Try as he might to ignore, the camera stays focused on his face; a face that reads anger, solitude, and reflection. Realizing that the camera and crew are willing to stand in the rain for his comments, Knight plans to continue his thinking.]
MAN: YO! LIL SLIM!?!
[Knight turns to his left, looking at the entrance of the field to an unknown man who continues to walk towards Knight, making his way up the bleachers to where Knight happens to be sitting. Knight acknowledges the familiar man by tipping his head to him.]
MAN: Blood, what you doing out here? It's cold as fuck right now. We can't have the hood superstar gettin' sick now. We ain't gonna have anyone else to root for!!!
[Knight short of feigns a smirk at the man who appears to be slightly older than Sammy himself.]
MAN: I wanted to holla at you though. Yo baby mama told me you'd be up here though.
[Knight respectfully looks at the man who stares directly at Sammy.]
MAN: Look, I understand you gotta do what you gotta do. And I ain't never been the type of nigga to tell another nigga how to make their money. But this Slim I'm seeing now, that ain't the Slim that I know from the past.
[He pauses, as Knight's face reads honest concern.]
MAN: You don't wanna bang no more. Fine. It's probably the right thing to do. I ain't even talkin' about that.
[Knight nods.]
MAN: But you seem to be...getting a lil soft. No disrespect Blood, but you've been letting a lot of shit slide.
[Knight doesn't give the man the reaction he wants.]
MAN: Where's that fire? Where's that lil nigga who didn't give a fuck?
[Knight peers back at him.]
MAN: I ain't saying don't make your money. I ain't even saying to go back to how you were. I'm just saying don't let the money make you.
You're Sammy Knight from the motherfuckin' CPT.
You're the nigga who put fear in the hearts of men.
Don't you _EVER_ forget that.
[Knight looks down, a small smirk forces his eyes to squint slightly.]
MAN: But you gotta quit fuckin' around nigga.
[Knight looks at him, somewhat perplexed.]
MAN: You gotta give them hell Slim.
[You can see Knight processing the man's word.]
MAN: Give them the God-damned hell these motherfuckers deserve. And that's _ON_ Piru.
[The man and Knight engage in a handshake of sorts before he turns to walk back down the bleachers, leaving Knight alone once again as the camera fades to black.]
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© Shootfire Pro Wrestling 2010
All Rights Reserved.
http://shootfireworld.com
OTC
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