__________________
Brady “Boltz” Lowell
__________________
[The scene opens to a lone empty park bench, with a beautifully
landscaped park behind it. Trees line the perfectly landscaped grassy
medians that sandwich the cobblestone walking path, as a few birds off
in the distance fly off, scattering in different directions. The
camera pans around to the skyline view of downtown Boston, and it
becomes clear to those familiar with the city, that the setting is
Piers Park in East Boston. The Harbor full of life on this Wednesday
just days after Conquest took place in this very city. As the camera
pans back to the bench, we see a familiar figure sitting on the bench
nonchalantly. Dressed in a plain white t-shirt, with dark blue jeans
and white Air Force One sneakers, along with his trademark Boston Red
Sox classic fitted baseball cap, the man looks off in the distance,
admiring the view before turning his attention to the camera...]
Lowell: Well, no one ever accused me of not being able to make an
entrance. There's an old saying about wrong place, wrong time. For me?
I'm always in the right place, at the right time, and I always know
_exactly_ what to do when given a little rope. Most guys, get a little
rope and they hang themselves. I get a little rope and I become a Boy
Scout. I twist that rope into whatever knot the situations call for
and on the last Conquest, it called for a little retribution.
[laughs]
Lowell: Marcus Davis, it was nothing personal. At least not on my end.
Now Samantha Bevins? That's another story. Unfortunately for you
Davis, you couldn't have been in a worse spot. Conquest in my hometown
of Boston, Sam Bevins with the wrath of a million angry hornets running
through her veins...talk about bad timing. Now I know guys like you,
and I know you're going to want to get your little "revenge" and part
of me can respect that. But another part of me thinks if you're gonna
go that route, that you're just about the stupidest person in this place
and that certainly says something. Realize you were just a stepping
stone for me, and I literally stepped on you...don't get me wrong. But
chalk it up as a bad day at the office, before I turn into a nightmare
that haunts you in ways you can't even begin to imagine....
[As Brady "Boltz" Lowell speaks the word "imagine" he stands up and
walks over to the railing that is the only thing keeping people from
being able to walk right into the Harbor itself. He leans against it
looking out with a focus in his eyes as the camera stands to his right
side. He turns with a contemplative look on his face before speaking
again...]
Lowell: I'm gonna admit, I've checked out the SPW a few times while
I've been away. And to be honest, most of the names don't jump out at
me. I couldn't tell you who is worthy of my attention, and who I
wouldn't piss on if they were on fire. Each name on the roster at this
point to me represents an opportunity. An opportunity to do what I do
best and that's win. Well...win and cause havoc. To get to the top
here, I'm gonna have to start from the bottom. And that's fine,
everyone's just a stepping stone who I'll step on and over on my way
to eventually holding the World Title. Sam Deringer who I wouldn't
know if you sat next to me on the T, you're first up. Opportunity
knocks my friend--
And you're just the first in a long line of guys waiting on my door step...
[FADE.]
__________
Johnny Pain
__________
[The camera cuts backstage to Tara Silver as she stands by with Johnny Pain, already decked out in his wrestling gear. He stands rubbing his wrists as Tara starts off asking the question everyone is wanting to know.] Tara: Johnny, you did the unthinkable last week after your match with Colt Montana, the whole world and SPW fans are wondering, what caused you to snap like you did? [Johnny looks at Tara with a quirked eyebrow and shook his head.]Johnny: Ever since I came back to this company, no one has showed me the respect I deserve. Management seems to think my past history here was nothing, I made a huge impact when I came here a few years ago, but I left because of personal reasons. I don't want to rehash those old memories but maybe management is mad about the fact that I left and didn't stay because of their exclusive signing's. I made a name for myself in IGA and I wasn't about to abandon them. That's where my loyalty lied, and when the IGA shut down, I moved on. I went to Japan and did very well for myself, but I forgot one very important thing and started doing what the fans wanted. [Johnny shook his head and rolled his shoulders.] Tara: What was that?Johnny: I changed my wrestling style, I wasn't being the real me, I was a carbon copy of all the high flying excitement the fans over there wanted to see. I lost sight of my roots, and coming back to SPW and the reception was the same as usual, but the fans don't pay money to see carbon copies, they pay to see real wrestler's do what they do best, and that's exactly what Colt Montana experienced. Johnny Pain doing what he does best, making bitches tap out! Tara: You shook hands with Colt before the match, why did you chose him of all people to attack after a great showing the two of you had? Johnny: Why him? He had just beat me in a match, humiliated me, and that's when I realized I had to make a stand, I'm not some stepping-stone for young rookie's to propel themselves to the top. I'm Johnny Pain, the best technical wrestler in the world. Along the way I forgot that, but not anymore. You won't see me doing anymore 450 splashes, or shooting star presses, I will do what I was trained to do. Beat and wear down my opponent until they can't take anymore, slap on a submission and tear tendon's and strain muscles! [Johnny turned looking into the camera.] Johnny: Tonight, "Big" Bob Brown, you're going to learn first hand what it's like to cross paths with the most dangerous technical wrestler in professional wrestling today. As far as the rest of boys in the back go, friend or foe, if you get in my way back to the top, I'll put you out of action for a long, long time! [Johnny turns and heads away from the camera leaving a speechless Tara standing there before the camera faded to black.]_____________
DEATHKNELL
_____________
[Fade in from black.
Smoke rises from an unknown source against a black screen. As the camera pans down to find the origin of the smoke, there is a dark black metal object resting on the ground, because of the darkness of the room and the dull grey metal of the object there is no real way to determine what exactly it is. Just then, a voice shouts out.]
VOICE: What is best in life?
[There is a pause. Then another deeper voice speaks.]
VOICE#2: To crush your enemies...
[Just then the scene flashes to the beast, the monster, the killing machine known only as DEATHKNELL. In slow motion he wraps his massive hand around the throat of Juyna Kontani and lifts him up into the air, as he does that the sound effects is that of a machine winding up to a high speed, and with little effort DEATHKNELL slams Kontani into a pane of glass. Shards go all over the place, but DEATHKNELL just stands there...
Black. Silence. Until.]
VOICE#2: ...see them driven before you...
[DEATHKNELL again is seen swinging a large bronze bell attached to a chain in slow motion, again there is the sound of the machine being revved into a higher gear than before giving off a wicked industrial sound of chaos. DEATHKNELL swings the chain and in turn the bronze bell right into the back of "Sugar" Shayne Grissom's head.
Black. Safety. Until.]
VOICE#2: ...and to hear the lamentation of their women.
[Again the horrible machine noise revs up to overdrive as DEATHKNELL and his glowing red eyes stare down at a broken Johnny Pain from the ring to the floor below where he lies in a heap after meeting the force of raw chaos in a head on collision. Just then the camera cuts back to the black scene with the smoke rising against a metal object, which is now none other than the grey outer skull that served as DEATHKNELL's helmet. It just sits there for a second on a small stone alter, until its eyes begin to glow bright red.
Then...
BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!
An oversized hammer strikes it rippling a dent and smashing pieces to either side. A massive hand holding the long metal shaft of the hammer can be seen. Three words then appear on the screen.
UNMASKED...
...UNLEASHED...
...WRESTLEBOWL.
We fade to black.]
____________________
“Sugar” Shayne Grissom
____________________
[The screen comes to life showing a tape of a man standing on a street corner. A little ways back is a mother and son walking and the son is fidgeting with a hot wheels car and acting like the car is flying, along with applicable noises. As we see this scene, the familiar voice of "Sugar" Shayne Grissom is heard.]
Grissom V/O: A man stands minding his own business when suddenly...
[The scene shows the child losing control of his miniature car and it flying into the roadway. The little boy darts out to grab his toy just as a large truck is driving fast toward him without any real chance at stopping. The screen seems to suddenly pause and move in VERY slow motion as the voice over continues...]
Grissom V/O: Fate. Chance. Whatever you call it intervenes and a decision must be made. In a moment like we have here, things move slow and you have time to weight whether it is a wise move to jump out and grab this child and keep him from harm while risking your own well being or not...
[The scene moves faster, but still in a slowed motion as the man grabs the kid by the arms and jerks him backward just before the truck barrels past them. The screen pauses with the kid having a freaked out expressed, the man also seemingly scared and the mom looking like she is going to explode with the scream she must be emitting from the look of her face. The voice over continues.]
Grissom V/O: Well of course you save the kid. You can't just let a kid get smashed because he dropped his toy. It makes sense when you get a moment to think about it....but in reality...
[The scene shows again in real time and the entire action of the kid dropping his toy and the guy grabbing him away form the truck's path took less then 4 seconds total. The screen immediately flashes to a black screen as Hopper steps out in front of the black background and continues speaking.]
Grissom: ...the amount of time you have doesn't allow logic. You can't weight the pros and cons of the situation or try to plan the best course of action to keep as little injury as possible to yourself in saving the child. It doesn't work like that. When this happens you do whatever it takes to save the life of the little boy.
Nothing else matters.
[Shayne grins a little before he continues.]
Grissom: I love it when I woke up and saw blogs dedicated to making this some form of me sticking up for my mentor by coming to the ring after Spooky Doom decided to sell himself into Greedy's service. They really think that I am just Hopper's robot...a carbon copy of a great legend. However, they would be wrong. I respect Chris and all he has taught me over these few years, but he doesn't control what I say or do. I am my own man and my future is dependant on that and that alone.
I'd like to say that I thought for a second whether to get back to the ring to help or not. I'd like to admit that I weighed the positive and negative side of keeping Steve Greedy and his goons from injuring O'Conner. I'd like to be able to claim any of that, but I can't.
[Shayne pauses and then his face gets a serious look.]
Grissom: Because in that split second you do what it takes to help no matter what.
[Shayne smiles.]
Grissom: Greedy and I have no issues with each other. I was just making sure that if Steve wants to do harm to O'Conner...he has to do it himself in a match situation and not by hiring goons to come out and bash him down to a helpless heap. Personally, Steve and James can have a knock-down, drag-out fight if they wish...but it should at least begin as a fair fight and go from there.
I learned that from my father.
[Hopper walks to his left, leaving the black screen background behind and sits on a bench that shows production area bustling behind him.]
Grissom: He always told me that the guy who is willing to use anybody and everybody he possibly can against you probably isn't tough enough to do it on his own.
It was a great lesson and it has served me well during my travels...but the irony of that lesson reaches farther than I ever believed it would. It reaches all the way to Blake Covington.
[Shayne makes a funny face as if he doesn't believe himself.]
Grissom: What?!? Covington played no part in Greedy's attack! How could that lesson apply to him?
[Shayne smiles confidently.]
Grissom: It does, probably more directly than anyone realizes. I realize Blake is probably able to eventually find out or even see this little interview and so I'm going to address him personally to explain it. Most of you at home will be able to follow along easily, but Blake.....well he will need this extra tutorial to understand it
To put it bluntly....Blake Covington is an ass.
[A football comes flying into the viewing area and Shayne catches it with ease. He smiles as he continues his talk.]
Grissom: Well....I'll be nice about it. Blake is a "Mule" to be exact.
You see, Blake is only three years older than I am and both of us are from Missouri. In fact, his hometown of Poplar Bluff was less then ninety minutes from my home in the suburbs of St. Louis. Blake played football for Poplar Bluff High School, which is home of the fighting Mules. They really are pretty good for their size of school and my Dad was an assistant coach for scouting and strength conditioning for my high school. It was his job to scout teams that were on our schedule or might come down the road in the State playoffs.
So Blake, I have known you for a LONG time.
[Shayne keeps fumbling around with the football, flipping it over as he talks and various moves to keep his hands busy.]
Grissom: I remember going to scout Farmington during my freshman year and they just happened to be playing the Mules. The Mules had this tough, big kid that was going to play football in college and everyone felt Farmington could find a way to neutralize him.
That kid was you. My Father was there to watch the team you played that night, but what I walked away with was learning what an ass a Mule could really be.
Do you remember this Blake?
[Shayne's smile disappears and his fumbling of the football ceases as well.]
Grissom: The game was over. Farmington had no chance to come back. It was 48-6 with only a few minutes left on the clock.
Is your memory clearing up buddy?
The ball gets snapped and this guy comes around and the offensive line can't stop him. He's wearing number ninety-eight and the quarterback releases the ball well in time. The ball is sailing down the field and way over any possible receiver, but before the ball lands the defensive player plows into the quarterback with full force. The quarterback doesn't move at all after hitting the ground and the referee throws the yellow flag for the late hit.
[Shayne allows a sly semi-grin to escape his lips.]
Grissom: That was you. The referee threw the flag and you stood over that quarterback like he was your personal whipping boy. His teammates came to defend him and you started shoving them away one by one before both teams were nearly ready to riot. You were an antagonizer and a thug.
You may have been this clean-cut white boy from a small town ready to make his mark on college football, but on that night you were anything but clean-cut.
[Shayne gets up and steps around the bench, leaning back to steady himself on the back of it as he keeps talking.]
Grissom: That is when my dad told me that he hated teams fighting like that, but when somebody is obviously a jerk with no class and no sportsmanship, then taking him down a peg isn't the worst thing that could happen.
Right now you walk around here trying to claim a moniker that doesn't fit you. You call yourself "The Chosen One"...but in reality there is nothing chosen about you. Everything you have gotten, you have received because you tried to bully your way into getting them or found a loophole.
You're a bully.
You're a cheap-shot artist.
And this episode of Conquest, you are just another rung on the ladder for me.
[Shayne smiles and even sighs a sound of contentment.]
Grissom: You see, my ticket to Wrestlebowl is punched and I have a date to win the Fusion Title from Eddie Christian. That isn't going to change win or lose against you. This is one of those matches that people will think I could be upset in....but I have a purpose.
It isn't a title shot.
It isn't to keep my standing in the rankings.
It is retribution.
[Shayne pauses as he stands up fully.]
Grissom: You have to pay for the way you conducted yourself against others. I don't remember that quarterback's name, but I may have seen greater things from him had you not hurt him needlessly. He could have been something or developed into a special talent had you managed to control yourself and not be a true Mule. I hope you are ready Blake because you are about to play a role in the unfolding future of SPW. The future is Shayne Grissom as the Fusion Champion.
No doubt the future is right now...
[The screen gets a close up of Shayne face as he winks and smiles for his tag line.]
Grissom: And its sweeter than sugar.
[Fade to black.]
____________
Rich Patterson
____________
[Rich Patterson is stood in an airport parking lot, killing time with a promo before boarding a long flight to Europe ]
Patterson: Pride, it is said, comes before a fall. A fall, it is said, comes after committing a heinous sin. To follow this logic, that means that pride is a sin that deserves the most severe punishment imaginable, to reduce what was once great to mere ashes, to serve as a warning.
Team EGO, it seems, did not consider this last time they crossed my path, as they talked and talked and TALKED without saying anything of note, honestly believing they could fool people into thinking they had a chance of upsetting the apple cart at my expense, and they came up short. You could even say that they flaked out when offered a chance on a plate, exposing themselves as the charlatans they truly are.
Yet they are still able to talk, because they have one speck of bullshit remaining – they can say that we did not beat them, so therefore they were cheated. Yet they want to throw this accusation, this sliver of an excuse of an accusation, at me. They think that I am the one who screwed them over, prevented them from reaching their goal and cementing their greatness.
All I say is this: leave your insecurities and your excuses at the door of those who would not let you prove you could get the job done, and don’t inflict it on those who had nothing to do with your coming up short. Do not take your frustration out on myself, or Chance Fortuna – if you want to make an issue of it, you don’t waste your breath and my time with your bullshit, you go ask Eddie Christian and Marissa Monet why they had to spoil your chance.
You won’t, of course, because that’s not like you – blaming me represents the easy way to do things, which is what you represent. I’m not the one who got the match thrown out, I’m not the one who interfered, but no doubt you think that focusing all your energies on getting some kind of “retribution” will justify your existence for another week. Why allow the idiotic logic that only the so-called bad guys are the ones to blame for everything, when you know in your heart of hearts that it’s those egotists who couldn’t stop us taking their titles who fucked you over. So, I repeat, you should be taking up this issue with them, not me.
But you’re not being allowed to think for yourselves, are you? And that’s the point.
No, you two are being placed in singles matches against, to blow off some steam and regain some honour. Again, if you want to regain some honour, why not find Christian and Monet when their guard is down, and attack them from behind to see how they like it? They did it to us, and that’s what affected you – so why aren’t you doing just that?
And the luck of the draw placed me against Owen Cage, which had a 50/50 chance of happening, and in a stroke we’re both told we’re the weak links in the team. After all, your partner and my partner made Conquest, whilst we’re stuck on Ascension – that has to sting, doesn’t it Cage? When you’re publicly told you aren’t as big a deal as your partner, and all because of Eddie Christian and Marissa Monet getting involved in a match they had no right to be involved with.
That isn’t the sole kick to the nutsack of your colossally deluded ego, either. Not only are you being told you’re the weak link of your team, but you got paired against me in the week somebody realised what was going on and decided that I should be the member of the roster in the spotlight. It’s as if you’re being written off by those who pay your salary, Cage, and that should worry you almost as much as the prospect of facing the member of the roster that is ready, willing and capable to demonstrate his worth to those who think I don’t deserve to be where I am, and I will GLADLY do so if I have to do it one member of the roster after another.
Oh yes, Cage, I know full well that we have a match, and I know that you are probably quivering with pent-up, if misplaced, rage at the thought of getting to face me one more time, showing your worth as a potential tag team champion. But we both know, as everybody knows, that you cannot function if you’re driven by anything other than your vacuous need for somebody to give a flying fuck who you are, which will overrule your sense of vengeance each and every time your subconscious has to make a choice, and we know why, don’t we? Because, Cage, you are weak – you spend so log thinking of yourself, you cannot possibly focus your rage against another person, because you have to think of someone other than yourself. No wonder you’re being played in a way where you might assume that I am the man who wronged you, because it’s easy for you to go with that than realise that I was looking to beat you to prove my worth, not get involved to prove nothing whatsoever but still interfere in the business of four people other than themselves.
You had better be listening to what I am telling you, Cage, because I’m not going to stand here and reel off 10,000 clichés about kicking your ass to make things easy for people to switch their brains off and follow mindlessly. I’m telling you that if you think you will get some kind of retribution against me, you will be disappointed no matter what the outcome. Disappointed because you didn’t right the man who wronged you – and disappointed because I will not let you get close to your bullshit idea of vengeance, and will educate you with extreme prejudice.
Still, one comfort for you – doubtless the crowds are as mindless in Germany as they are in the Conformist States, so whilst they may be baying for blood at least it will sound familiar to you, because no crowd wants to stand out as individual, do they?
[FTB]
__________
Poet Wright
__________
[Fade in:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!
The manic laughter rings through the screen as we fade from black. Poet Wright is seated down in her bunker. Her mask sits next to her, its grim visage looking back at her. The mask has been scored with blood and hair from Poet's past in ring victims. Poet is dressed in her black robes, but she does wear the head gear. The ghastly scars are evident and her face is not made up so the livid keloids stand out in high relief. She strokes her mask affectionately.]
Poet: This match is bad comedy. Poet Wright and Tiffany Lane versus Erika Sato and Heather Owens? Who created this nonsense? Who thought this would even be a match? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!
[Poet wipes tears from her eyes.]
Poet: Understand one fundamental and universal truth, I hate Tiffany Lane more than any other human being on this planet. I can't believe that anybody would doubt that. Do you honestly think I would soil my hands with something like a tag? Do you think I would trust her at my back for a second?
[Poet shakes her head violently. She pauses in her insane laughter and cocks an ear towards her mask, listening to something. It appears almost as if she is listening to the mask. She nods gravely.]
Poet: Yes, I understand that it is an opportunity to hurt Heather Owens prior to our match at Wrestlebowl, but that is so far away. Even a jumped up reporter can heal in that time. No, we won't be given the opportunity to hurt her, darling.
[She caresses the mask's cheek.]
Poet: Tiffany Lane has nothing to gain in this match except face time on the camera. Don't you know how her mind works? She's going to try to leave us all lying to prove that she is the alpha female of the SPW. This won't be a match. This will be Tiffany Lane trying to outsmart everybody else. Too bad it's not going to happen. Too bad Poet Wright is smarter than Tiffany Lane and Samantha Bevins. Too bad that Young and Beautiful and all the other female rejects will never ever get ahead of Poet Wright.
[She turns towards the camera.]
Poet: For all of you watching this please understand, a woman must have her principles. And unlike Tiffany Lane, I am not one who is inconsistent. I do not alter when an alteration I find. I do not bend with the remover to remove. I have always been what I am. My convictions have never ever changed. I am the strongest of will. I am the mad, bad and dangerous one. So Heather, you have nothing to fear from me when this match begins. But Tiffany ... Tiffany you have something to fear from me. How many years has it been? How many years of torment from you have I endured?
[The mask seems to speak to Poet again. She nods her head, following along with a dialogue that cannot be heard by the sane.]
Poet: She has been tormenting me since long before you were born, my dear. Ever since I joined this promotion Tiffany Lane made a career of tormenting me. She tried to put me down at every opportunity. She tried to break my spirit. Well, she forged me into something stronger, harder and more cruel. So, for those of you who make bets on the matches, I suggest you put your money on Erika and Heather. I don't see this turning out well for Tiffany at all.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
[Fade out]
___________
Tiffany Lane
___________
[The scene opens at The Laguna Health and Spa in Cardiff. It’s here that we find Tiffany Lane, seated in a plush chair and flipping through a magazine. The blonde bombshell is clad in a white robe, her hair pulled back and styled in a bun. One would think that she would be a pleased mood, having sampled many of the spa’s treatments. But as she looks up, we note the scowl that crosses her lovely features, proving that our earlier assessment was wrong.]
Tiffany: I can’t believe this!
[She closes the magazine and slams it on the nearby table for emphasis.]
Tiffany: They’re actually forcing me to tag with that…that…uneducated savage, Poet Wright!?!
[She leans back and folds her arms across her ample chest, crossing her shapely legs.]
Tiffany: It just doesn’t make sense. I should be working with a partner more on my level, someone as young and beautiful as me. Instead, I get stuck with this mentally-deficient skank with the cutting fetish, someone whose very presence I can’t even stand and who has made no bones about her own jealousy of me.
[She sneers, shaking her head.]
Tiffany: I’ll just tell you this, Poet. You’d better uphold your end of this team. Because winning this and humbling that tart, Heather Owens, is very important to me right now. And I won’t have anyone, including you, screwing that up for me. Understand?
[She leans closer, glaring at the camera.]
Tiffany: Because if you mess this up for me in anyway, I won’t hesitate to turn around and slap the ugly right off of you. And you know that I can do it too. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.
[She finally smiles, although it doesn’t quite reach her green eyes.]
Tiffany: You remember those days, don’t you? When I used to own your ass on the regular?
[She lets out a laugh.]
Tiffany: Hell, I can’t even count the amount of times that I’ve left you humiliated and defeated in the ring. You’d be wise to remember that I’m the same woman that made your SPW career a living Hell. Because if you act like you’ve forgotten that and get in my way, during this match, I’ll make those times look like a day at the park and leave you an even bigger mess than you already are.
[She smirks, quite pleased with herself.]
Tiffany: Speaking of messes, I guess I should say a little something about our inferior competition too. Sato, you just need to sit on the apron and mind your business. Because this is all about me getting my hands on Heather and beating her like a piñata.
See, the last time she and I wrestled, the little weirdo lucked herself into a win. But tonight, that’s not happening. Because she’s going to finally learn what happens when you screw around with Young and Beautiful.
Poor Nikki tired to teach her that lesson herself. But we all know what happened there.
[She shrugs her shoulders.]
Tiffany: Fortunately, I’m a worthier candidate for breaking a bitch and a woman that can actually get the job done. So, Heather, get ready to get that ass kicked in just a few short hours. Because tonight, I finish the job I started and move that much closer to reclaiming _my_ women's title.
[Fade to blonde.]
___________
Lindsey Page
___________
[Page yoga. Lindsey is sitting in a blackened room, during Earth Hour perhaps, on a Saturday Night in her vacated gym, specially opened just for her. The conditioned athlete is packed with muscle, looking younger, healthier, vitalized beyond her appearance the first time she was here. Her hazel eyes opening up, Lindsey takes a deep breath and stares out ahead.]
Page: Welcome back SPW, to the Lindsey Page show. Let me tell you a little bit about who I am, for those of you new to the federation since I last sat for the cameras.
[Her black tanktop and pulled back fire red hair tied behind her head, Lindsey looks towards the camera as a hot sweat drips down the back of her neck amid the cool air of the A.C. unit]
Page: I was a top ranked contender for the Women's World Championship. I was a member of The Black Mass, and became the first woman to leave that group, back when leaving the Black Mass was still cool. These new versions since, they were nice but they couldn't hold a candle to The Biz, Chance Fortuna, Vic Morrison and Lindsey Page. We were the evil in SPW, we were the team to be feared. And why? Not necessarily because we were despicable individuals, but because we did whatever we wanted and fought whoever came at us, as a team. A unit.
Then when my contract came up for renewal I had the chance to go and headline a federation and I admit, I took their huge money contract. At the time I had been fighting with Marissa Monet and took her to the limit inside a steel cage. In fact I'll bet no one has been able to take 'Rissa down like I have, and seeing her as a World Tag Champion I can see that no one has been able to deflate her like I have.
Unsurprising. Then I went to the ICWF a rival federation, we even competed against Conquest on the same night and time slot as Monday Night Dy-No-Mite saw Lindsey Page go tooth and nail with Iris Galiver, Nikki James, Angst, Ramona Rheaume and all the rest. But good things don't always last forever and now that it's been almost a calendar year since I've left, it's time to show this new generation of superstar women exactly what old school is all about.
Women like Heather Owens, Erika Sato, like Orchid, like Kaycee Tanner. Women who do know me like Tiffany Lane, Nina Larue, and Poet Wright. Women who I've dealt with before like Angst and of course, my friend Iris Galiver. It's good to see some familiar faces. It's not so good to see faces like Sensuous Samantha Bevins though. How that woman gets to where she is is beyond me, but I bet anything kneepads were involved.
[Page smirks superior.]
Lindsey: And that's how some women do business I get that. After all these years I don't even really have a problem with it. After all, Samantha Bevins is a dirty, no good, bottom feeding, backstabbing, skankified, snake in the grass, piece of shit whore and everyone knows to bring more than a few boxes of condoms when they go into the back room with her. And you know what? That's cool with me. Whatever works for you ma'am, you go to it. And women like Tiffany Lane. The only thing with more silicone than her chest is what's in between her ears, a self righteous self serving spoiled little Diva if I've ever seen one. The Queen of entitlements, of being hand pampered and treated like she craps out rosebuds. But that's cool too, no problems from me. It's what she is and we all know it.
And then you have Poet Wright. I like to live so I'll move on.
But I think we get the point. You're looking at the one female Superstar, SPW, that calls it like it is, doesn't mince words and pretend to be something she's not. There isn't a drop of silicone in my body, and there isn't a thought of self-entitlement in my head. This fire red is my natural hair color, and this body I have is through constant training, unlike Nikki James, I don't need performance enhancers to do my work, I eat right and I sleep well, and I train hard.
Because I know in my heart I am the best. You people just don't realize that yet. But you will.
[Lindsey's eyes close.]
Page: You will, all in due time. But I'm here to earn my way up the ladder, starting from the bottom and heading to the very top. And if one woman manages to beat me, then I will accept my loss and come back at her twice as hard the next time. Because that's what I am, that's what I do. I am a true professional wrestler, and while people may make money calling this Sports Entertainment and trying to sell pay per views and T-Shirts, I am really just here for one reason and one reason only.
To Wrestle.
Well, to wrestle and win.
[Lindsey opens her eyes, green hazel shining through.]
Page: You see unlike last time, I don't have a chip on my shoulder. I'm not the bitter, young girl hating on everyone because I'm jealous, or envious as to what they have. I know what it's like to live life outside of SPW, and I've earned my stripes by driving up and down the road through countless cities to compete for my trade, a job I love to do that is my life. I've come full circle, and while I have nothing to prove to myself- I do have something to prove to you. And my crowning glory will be proof through my capturing of the one prize I've always wanted... the SPW Women's World Title belt.
[Lindsey smiles, picturing the shiny gold around her waist.]
Page: And that's all there is to it. So come Monday Night, in the Millennium Stadium, I'm not sure how, but I will make it into that ring and I will be successful in my debut. And from there, the sky's the limit. So welcome me back SPW... and don't be surprised when I take it over alongside my new team, the SPW fans that have been so great to me already. I'm here to kick some ass and take some names, and as far as I'm concerned each and every one of you are standing in my way to the Championship. Who will I strike first?
Well we'll just have to see that on Monday. Namaste.
[Lindsey Page closes her eyes again, to meditate on future success. Fade out.]
___________
Andrew Davis
____________
[Cardiff Castle, Wales. Walking along the grounds, dressed in a black overcoat, is Andrew Davis. He smiles at the camera.]
Davis: While I’m partial to Ireland, I’m rather enjoying my time here in Wales. The weather is appropriate, the beer is cold, and there’s nothing like a good castle to kick-start the imagination. The only castle I’ve seen in America is guarded by an overgrown rat in Orlando, and this is much, much better. It’s always a treat to visit one of a kind establishments, a wonder of the world.
[He takes a second to look at the clock tower, an enormous gothic structure.]
Davis: It’s even better to have a wonder of the world come to you, which is why Millennium Stadium is sold out for Conquest. When Andrew Davis visits, you go and see him. No if, ands, or buts about it. The official slash unofficial World Champion of Shootfire is a must see attraction.
[Andrew reveals a moment of doubt, genuine worry flashing across his face.]
Davis: My greatness aside, I am worried a little. You see, Shootfire’s World Belt is special, and has spent most of her life with me. She, and she is a she, isn’t very promiscuous. She doesn’t go home with a lot of guys.
[Davis takes a seat on a bench. He crosses his leg, adjusts his pant leg to prevent creasing, and leans back, enjoying the relative peace and quiet in Wales’ largest city.]
Davis: We know each other quite well. She knows that I prefer to carry her over my shoulder, and I know that she doesn’t like to be cooped up, encased in glass. And we both like to look our best at all times.
[Andrew smiles, a private moment, remembering the years (that’s right, years) that the Shootfire World title belt has been in his possession.]
Davis: I’ve never been married, as part of my commitment to my dual superstar careers in Shootfire and Hollywood requires every bit of me. I’m not opposed to an evening, week, or fortnight of pleasure from time to time, but the longest female relationship I’ve had in my life is with the World belt, and she misses me. And I miss her. She just got out of a long, abusive relationship with Sammy Knight when I, like a white knight, a knight in shining armor, returned and reminded her just how good life can be.
That’s not to say that I don’t understand women. I’m an actor, and part of being an actor is to be introspective, to have the ability to dive into roles by thinking as other people, whether they be male, female, or something in between. It’s called the method, and I’ve been well trained.
[A rotund couple walks past Andrew, a digital camera bouncing off the stomach of the guy. He looks at Andrew, who nods, and slows down. It’s obvious that he’s talking to his lady friend, about how that guy looks like Andrew Davis, but why would Andrew Davis be in Wales, and why did he nod, I thought he was a bad guy, and if this meeting were some serendipitous phenomenon, why couldn’t he have used it on Kansas not destroying his brackets in his March Madness tournament. By the time he realizes that maybe, just maybe, he and the Lightweight Legend are in the same park at the same time on the same continent, he’s so far away that he would definitely be classified as a stalker if he returned. Fail.
Andrew smiles, enjoying the effect his fame has on “normals.”]
Davis: I’ll give you a mindset, and see if you can name the person. This person is a perennial top tier competitor, but is unable to smash through the glass ceiling. This person feels validated by capturing the world tag team titles, but still is tortured by the knowledge that every time this person has attempted to reestablish themselves as a threat and legitimate contender in a new field, is always marginalized. Laughed at. A circus act.
This person was just one-upped by their tag team partner, who captured individual gold in Shootfire, something that this person has never done in the division that they are battling in at the moment. This person wants more than anything in the world to become World Champion, and this person is about to become the weak link of their tag team, and soon will be left in the dust by their partner.
This person is scared. This person is backed into a corner. This person will do anything to succeed. So this person knocked on the door of Kieran Rae, someone who knows what it’s like to fail, and begged her way into a match. And to make the biggest splash, this person chose the Face of Shootfire Pro. The Lightweight Legend.
[Andrew smiles. He infinitely amused.]
Davis: I know that when I’m surrounded by the likes of VVV, EVD, and Marcus Davis, my attractiveness is multiplied by a power of ten. Out of every single person in this industry, let alone Shootfire, I am the top. To beat me fair and square is to prove to one and all that you are legitimate.
Here in Cardiff, Wales, it’s about to be a Sadie Hawkins Dance, and of course I’m the one who’s picked to show off my moves. I just hope this person, who will remain nameless, has the ability to keep up. Because I’m a pretty good dancer. And just when you think you’ve caught up, I change the tune.
[Andrew stands and adjusts his outfit, which fits him like a glove. He smiles, slips on his D&G sunglasses, and tips an invisible hat to the camera. He walks away, towards downtown Cardiff, towards Millennium Stadium, towards Conquest. There is a spring in his step, as he knows that very soon, AD3 will be reunited with his lost love, the Shootfire World Championship Belt. Fade to black.]
____________
Marissa Monet
____________
[Fade in:
We open on a shot of the Millennium Centre in the distance. The bronzed
dome structure is impressive with its beauty and the majesty of its
windows inscribed in Welsh and English. Creu Gwir fel gwydr o ffwrnais
awen </wiki/Awen> is the Welsh inscription. In these Stones Horizons
Sing is the English. They stand side by side in monument. They are
eye-catching. But they are not as eye-catching as the imposing figure
who stands in the foreground, looking back at the arena with a hungry
look. Marissa Monet wraps her long black leather coat around her to
ward off the slight chill in the air.
Marissa is tall and muscular and strikingly handsome. She stands six
feet six inches in her stockinged feet and today considerably more in
her high-heeled fuchsia boots. Like most tall women she is long through
the legs and arms and neck, but unlike most women she seems chiseled
from ebony and granite. Those impossibly long legs and sky-touching,
ground-sweeping arms are heavy with muscle, the kind of muscle that
would be the envy of most athletes and body builders. Her shoulders are
wide, giving her back a long V-taper. She looks as if she could carry
the world for Atlas for a time. Some would argue that she already has.
There is something of the Goddess in her visage: the high cheekbones,
the kohl-lined, smoke-lidded golden eyes brighter than her dark
chocolate skin that glow with a superhuman emotion, the hair coiled into
a mass of warrior's braids and the overly generous mouth lipsticked
black. She looks both young and ancient at the same time, as if she has
just arrived yet has always been there an ancient and enduring figure.
Human weakness is not a trait this woman seems to possess. That has
been scrubbed from her long ago.
She turns to face the camera and her determination and hunger are
palpable. Instantly, the magnificence of the man made structure behind
her is forgotten. A Goddess standards before us and this force of
nature is all that the camera can focus upon.]
Marissa: Andrew Davis, I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward
to this. Samantha Bevins set the challenge and you became the prize.
Our first meeting ever. I pray that you won't be as disappointing as
Viper. That was a man I respected before we stepped into the ring and
what did he do? Whine and politic to everybody who would listen as to
why I wasn't ready to win a match against him. How I still had to prove
myself? Why? Because he wanted the referees to think about that every
time they had to make a decision. He wanted them to pause every time
their hand slapped the mat when his shoulders were down. He wanted them
to look the other way when he broke the rules because after all he is
Vile Vince Viper and he probably would have quit had I beat him in the
Death in Darkness match. Sad thing was, all that politicking was for a
match I didn't even care that much about. Yes, it was an honour to step
into the ring with Vile Vince Viper because he was one of my icons in
Shootfire. I watched his career and I saw that it was good.
[She can't help but allow herself a little smile at the memory of one of
the greatest catchphrases of all time.]
Marissa: But it was a mistake stepping in the ring with him. Especially
in a Death in Darkness match. I had nothing against him. He just
didn't have it in him to compete with me on level ground. Now I get to
take on the other Legend of SPW, the lightweight legend.
[She manages to make the word 'lightweight' sound like a grave insult.]
Marissa: I watch you, Andrew Davis. I watch you talk a good game, but
I've never really seen you back it up. Yes, you're a three-time World
champion. I'm trying to become a one-time World champion, so I will
never talk about your accomplishments in the ring. You are good and
that's why I find it my pleasure to face you. I've tried and failed
myself to put down Sammy Knight in the ring. I couldn't do it back
then, but I watched you do it at Iconoclasm. You nearly broke him.
You, more than anybody else, made him upset and frustrated and unsure.
And not only that, but you survived him in the rematch at Charity
Carnage. Andrew Davis, I know how special that is. I know how special
that makes you feel. Big time. Isn't that what you are? The big time
wrestler? The showstealer? The main event?
[Marissa pauses as she thinks about that.]
Marissa: Weren't you the guy pinned by James O'Connor?
[She snaps her fingers, a mocking grin spreading across her lips.]
Marissa: You were the guy pinned by James O'Connor. You were the guy
that lost his title to Vile Vince Viper in a relatively uninspired match
on Conquest. You were the guy who claimed that the Age of Andrew Davis
had begun at Iconoclasm and it was done less than three months later.
[Marissa shakes her head.]
Marissa: I get you, Drew. I really do get you. If it isn't a big
match, you don't give it your all. You don't leave it all out on the
floor. You're as Hollywood as you say you are. You can only bring it
when the big spotlights are on you. You can only get it done when it's
on the grandest stage. I'd be terrified of this match if this were
Wrestlebowl. I'd be terrified of this match if it were the main event
of Conquest, but it isn't, Andrew, is it? And why do I have the feeling
that means that you're going to resort to your "B" game just because you
don't respect the sport and your opponents enough to always always try.
You live in your own world, Andrew. And that's why you can't sustain
the greatness. Hey, you were never as loved or important to SPW as AsH.
You tried to hitch a ride on Dave Pietka's star to the Hall of Fame. He
made it. You didn't. You ushered in the Age of Andrew Davis by
defeating Sammy Knight. It turned out to be a bit of a damp squib,
didn't it? It was never as great as the Red Knight's reign and you were
never as feared as Triple V, were you? Do you know why? Because you
never tried as hard as any of those men. You never gave it your all.
You were never willing to soil yourself for the edification of the
common man. AsH was a true lightweight legend. He suffered in this
ring for his craft. He suffered more punishment and brutality than most
men could imagine, but he survived and became beloved because everybody
knew AsH wouldn't quit in the ring. Dave Pietka? I don't like him, but
I understand everything there is to understand about Dave Pietka. He
really really loves the attention and he is willing to work for it. As
attention whores go, he's the most professional I've ever seen. He will
debase himself for the crowd. He doesn't hold himself above the people.
He doesn't hold himself oblivious to the rest of the world like you do,
Davis. And that's why he's been triumphant. That's why he went to the
Hall of Fame. The people recognised his greatness. You? They saw you
for what you were, a poseur who didn't really want to get his hands
dirty. You didn't really want to give it your all. Shallow, fleeting
fame. Sammy Knight? He was a man who brought it every single night.
He never gave anybody an inch. He never offered less than his best
whether it was Off the Chain or Charity Carnage. And that is why he was
the greatest champion in all of SPW.
[Marissa's expression grows serious. Her mouth flattens out and her
eyes narrow.]
Marissa: Andrew Davis, understand something, I want to be the greatest
SPW Champion. So I've learned from all the greats. I've learned from
AsH, I've learned from Pietka, I've learned from Sammy Knight. I've
learned to never quit no matter what the odds, I've learned to give
every ounce you have in the ring, I've learned to treat each and every
match as if it is the main event of Wrestlebowl. Because you never know
when it's all going to come to an end, Davis, do you? We have no
personal business. Samantha Bevins has set you as an obstacle in my way
in order to get a title shot. There is nothing in this world that I
want more and I'm the SPW World Tag-Team Champion. I'm part of the best
team in the World in Swagger and Desire. But I still want more. I want
to be part of the best team and I want to be known as the best wrestler
in the world. Why, Andrew? Because I believe in greatness. Not my own
ego, but actual greatness. Wrestling is my blood. Not acting. Not
making the scene. I am the Great Black Shark ... the apex predator of
the SPW. And I'm coming to bite you because Sam Bevins has forced me to
in order for me to be the greatest. And it's in a match of my choosing,
Andrew. It's a match that doesn't put you at any more of a handicap.
It's just a match that ensures you and I compete on even footing, first
to the finish. A chance to prove whether you are as good as you say you
are or whether I really do stand at the cusp of greatness. Bring your
"A" game, Davis. I'm bringing mine. I'm ready for my close-up, Andrew.
I'm ready to take my place as the greatest competitor in SPW.
[The camera zooms in onto a close up of Marissa's rawboned and serious
face.]
Marissa: It's my time.
[Her eyes rollover white. Her lids start to flutter.]
Marissa: Ooooohhhhhhh ... Marissa's gonna kill you!
[Fade out]
______________
James O’Connor
______________
[Fade in to a plain black backdrop. We see and hear nothing for a brief moment. The silence is broken by the faintest sound, which gradually gets louder and louder.]
"oooooooooh"
"Ooooooooooh"
"OOOOOoooohh"
"BOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH"
[Slowly floating on the screen are translucent white blobs with horrified looking faces. These low-budget CGI ghosts move in and out of view, wailing all the while.]
"BOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH"
"BOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH"
[Into this harrowing scene steps "Cunning" James O'Connor, sporting his leather jacket, swatting at the air like he's warding off a swarm of gnats. The ghosts give one final howl, then depart off screen. O'Connor turns to the camera, laughing and shaking his head.]
JOC: Ghosts, eh? They're such a pain in the ass.
[Another laugh.]
JOC: You'll forgive the poor effects, I hope. I don't have the same comfort with this level of showmanship that others in this league seem to have. Normally all I need is a camera and a spot where I won't bother anyone. I thought I'd try something different, given how I'm supposed to be working on my "creativity." I'm sure this isn't what they had in mind but, hey, it's a start.
[He runs his fingers through his hair. We see a fading blotch on his forehead where Doom knocked him into next week with his shovel.]
JOC: Spooky, I know we had our rough spots. I never had a shot in that Boneyard Brawl match, which put you on Team SPW. When Baldwin threw you off the team and brought me on, I made a point to find you and apologize. Whether you wanted to hear it or not, I felt sorry for you. You were right - you did what was asked of you and Baldwin shouldn't have cut you.
[The smile, present since the beginning, begins to fade.]
JOC: At least, that's what I thought. Now? Looking back, I'm not so sure.
[Pause.]
JOC: See, the more you talked, the more you whined and complained about what happened to you, the more I realized that you were too into your own success to work on a team. Oh, sure, you and Colt Montana did well as the Deadbeats, but that team was always about you first. When you lost the ladder match, you flat out disappeared for months. If the TEAM meant anything to you, you'd have stayed and worked through the adversity. At the least, you could have been a man and told Colt to his face that you wanted to go a different direction. Instead, you abandoned him and took off like a goddamn coward. Speaking from even my limited experience the Deathwish Cage would have eaten a coward like you alive. Could you have climbed over barbed wire for a cause greater than yourself? Would you have bothered coming back from a concussion, suffered earlier that night, for any reason other than personal gain?
[He shakes his head.]
JOC: I know you don't think much of me. Hell, you probably never thought much of me. You're about flash and style, I'm about quiet substance. We couldn't be less alike as competitors, but I thought at least we shared a common decency as people. I respected you for doing the right thing. Ever since Iconoclasm, though, you've proven you can't even handle that.
[A small smirk.]
JOC: You know, the funny thing is that it all traces back to when Scott Starring impersonated you in the Deathwish cage. You two, at the end of the day, are a lot alike. You're both talented. You both wear masks. You both feel like you're entitled to bitch and moan because things didn't go how you wanted, and you both are content with being nothing more than Steve Greedy's attack dog. The main difference that I can see is that Starring displayed his inferiority complex with gusto, while you hide from yours by overcompensating to the n-th degree with gimmicky special effects.
[The camera zooms in.]
JOC: Some of us don't need ridiculous back stories to make our mark. Some of us are confident enough in who we are to come to every fight as we are. Boring? Maybe. Effective? Hell yes. And as for your choice in friends and in career path? You might want to look around for Starring, who made many of the same choices you did. He's not here anymore.
[The smirk drops.]
JOC: You're a symbol to me, Spook. You represent wrestlers who prefer style over substance, flash over talent. You represent everyone who's attacked me from behind, or with a weapon...or in your case both. Come Ascension, I'll be standing right in front of you. And when I kick your ass, it won't be CGI. It won't be as the "alive kid" or the "zombie killer" or anything hackneyed like that. It will be MY way, on MY terms. In a straight up fight, you have no chance...and you know it. You know I don't have the gimmick, but I know you don't have...
...THE CUNNING!
[Fade out.]
____________
Spooky Doom
____________
[We preface this video with another video; specifically, a recap of the aftermath to the battle between James O'Connor and Shayne Grissom from last Ascension. We're shown the beatdown by GVZ, Spooky Doom running in for the save, the ensuing betrayal from the Doomster to the fans and the accusations of "sellout" by the announcers as the Grim Avenger silently walks away with Steve Greedy...]
[This leads us to a cordial interview segment between Spooky Doom and Mandy Appleton, live in front of a studio audience. In fact, we could very well be fooled into thinking that this was an old recording from Spooky's time before Charity Carnage if not for the crowd of booing fans hurling insults at the Deadkid. Spooky's taking all this in stride, quipping with Mandy unconcerned by the ever mounting hostility displayed against him. We join the interview already in progress...]
Doom: ... so it ends up that souls aren't really worth anything afterall! I mean, when was the last time you paid your electric bill in souls, huh?
Mandy: I thought you could shoot lightning bolts from your fingertips?
Doom: That's my uncle! Also, it just so happens that firing lightning bolts into an electrical socket simply results in burning the house down. Strange, but true.
[The laugh track doesn't pick up. The fans are still incensed at Spooky's actions and have attended this interview awaiting answers. Camera pans towards the audience, picking up signs reading "WHY SPOOKY WHY" or "SPOOKY SELL-OUT", all while Spooky Doom relaxes in front of the camera. He's completely guiltless, utterly at ease which frustrates Mandy into action.]
Mandy: Spooky, if we could cut the small talk for a second, I'm sure we have more important topics to discuss... like your selling out to Steve Greedy!!
[The crowd responds as one, booing the Hell out of Spooky Doom as the Deadkid simply sits there laughing, which in no way helps the already volatile situation. And just appropriately enough, it's quite the bone-chilling laughter as well.]
Doom: Oooh, Mandy, Mandy, Mandy... Ooooh, Mandy! It's not *ALWAYS* about the money! Sure it's important, especially in today's society where the amount you make pretty much determines your importance in the world, and make no mistake: Spooky Doom is *QUITE* the important luchador. Much more important than any other wrestler in SPW, *FAR* more important than James O'Connor-
[More boos, but Spooky Doom simply brushes them off.]
Doom: But you see Mandy, a great injustice has been done and it's up to the Spooky Doom to rectify it. More specifically, a great injustice has been done... *TO ME!!* When I entered SPW, I was coming in as a former world champion, top of my game, ready to disprove the doubters and the critics that I was the Grim Reaper-like thingy who would unite the wrestling world with his excellence! SWAT, Hardkore Japan, ICWF... and they turn me into a friggin' *TAG WRESTLER???* Are you ribbing me? The supreme iniquity was giving away my spot to those Team EGO dipsticks: I didn't just join forces with Steve Greedy for the money, I joined with Steve Greedy because he was the only one who could appreciate my talent for it's true worth... and that's still with me cutting the guy a huge rebate!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Doom: OH, SHUT UP!!! Lemme tell you, friendships didn't come easy in SPW where each and every wrestler is a self-righteous prick who would rather tear down the works of others than elevate the sport as a whole! I had opportunities denied left and right while the people doing so were cheered for their actions! I was denied my main event at Iconoclasm for crying out loud! It was unjust, it was unfair; well my attack wasn't just a message to James O'Connor but to everybody in the SPW locker room! If I can't main event Shootfire Pro Wrestling, *NO ONE CAN!!!* HA HA HA HA HA!!!
[Demonic laughter echos throughout the studio as a terrified Mandy Appleton scoots up her chair in fear of the terrifying menace that sits besides her. That is, until a thought suddenly occurs to her.]
Mandy: Wait a minute... Are you seriously telling me that you passed off a chance to attack Shayne Grissom for James O' Connor in your jealous rage? C'mon!
Doom: Meh, we all know Shayne ain't ever gonna amount to anything in life. Him and his stupid unnecessary "Y" in his name. "Look at me, I'm ShaYne Grissom, I have a Y in my name because Ys are cool but I'm also old school and hit people with the Sugar Shock, the only wrestling move that kills you through diabetes." ... Fffffffffffffffffffffff- him. Goddang he's got the worst taste in music ever, I mean, "Poor some sugar on me"? Look, I understand your music has to fit your gimmick, but for Christ's sakes, why the Holy Heck did you go with this candy coated bonbon BS in the first place and why the flyin' fudgecake are you using what is scientifically proven to be Def Leppard's worst baby-pandering song in it's whole entire discography??? IT'S NOT EVEN AMERICAN!!!!!! YOU'RE ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE, TWO YEARS OLDER THAN I AND YOU CAN'T FIND A BETTER SONG IN YOUR EFFIN' ERA???? WHAT THE HECK, MAN? WHAT THE HECK??? GET OUT OF YOUR MOTHER'S BASEMENT ALREADY AND EXPOSE YOURSELF TO SOME REAL SONGS FOR CRISSAKES!!!
[Spooky Doom tears his shirt off as Mandy simply throws her notes away.]
Doom: Look at me, you retarded man-baby with a raging hard-on for a time period you never even lived through!!! Do I look like I have an once of high fructose corn syrup in me? Because that is what you are, Sugar Shayne with a Y so as to be different from all the other Sygar Shanes in the business! I mean, choosing a gimmick shouldn't be complicated: skulls are cool, death is cool, Grim Reapers riding Harley Davidsons are hella cool, but unless you're aiming for 12 year old little girls there is absolutely NO ONE that's impressed or aroused by your friggin' CANDYLAND BULLSHIT and if you ARE going after 12 year olds then DO NOT color me surprised because I suspected as such all along, you pedophile scum of the earth traitor to America and American music!!!!
[Slow clap from Mandy as Spooky Doom is left shirtless, panting after his screaming oratory.]
Mandy: Got it out of your system already?
Doom, What I *MEANT* to say, Mandy Appleton, is that instead of asking me questions on the target of my brutal assault, you should be asking me questions... about me!!!! You know, the most sought after free-agent in pro-wrestling until Steve Greedy put a stop to that? Questions as in, how you doin' after all this down time, Spooky Doom? Did you keep on training after leaving SPW, Spooky Doom? Why yes, Mandy Appleton, I have been learning new techniques and keeping the general wrestling shape, as all those swooning ladies in the audience will readily attest!
[Camera pans towards the audience again, revealing Spooky Doom's falsehoods for what they are.]
Mandy: Meh, I prefer taller boyfriends myself.
Doom: OH, EVERYBODYS A CRITIC NOW, HUH???? Well I hope you like your boyfriends POOR, because that's all you'll ever have in guys like James O'Connor: guys that are POOR and IRISH! Well the Spooky Doom is neither poor nor Irish, he hasn't lost a step since leaving SPW and with the big money bringing me here, the brand new "Evil Dead" Spooky Doom is gonna show you moves that he learned in Japan, moves that he INNOVATED in Japan, moves that makes Spooky Doom the greatest talent in wrestling today and I can bench 450 pounds so I'm not the jealous one here, YOU ARE. YOU ALL ARE!!! ESPECIALLY YOU, JAMES O'CONNOR!!! I BET YOU CAN'T EVEN AFFORD A HAT, THAT'S HOW POOR AND IRISH YOU ARE!!!
Mandy: Sweet! What kinda moves???
Doom: As if I'd ever reveal them to you, as if if I'd ever reveal them to James O'Connor!!! LIVE, Wednesday night at the Vestenfallen-
Mandy: Pronounce it in three words if it's complicated. West-fallen-stadion-
Doom: At the Westfallen Stadium in Dortmund Germany!!! There, the "Evil Dead" Spooky Doom destroys this poor excuse for a contender in James O'Connor, shows you wrestling skills the likes of which you have no right to ever expect from SPW and starts a new trail of death that only ends in more souls for the EVIL DEAD! And there will be NO devil horns, NO air guitars, NO rocking out, not to American music, not to British faux-rock, ESPECIALLY NO RAMMSTEIN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, nothing but the Hell's Guillotine coming down hard on James O'Connor's neck and proving MY, Spooky Doom's, me, the Evil Dead's superiority over *EVERYBODY!!!!* HA HA HA HA!!!
[Spooky Doom rises up triumphantly, greeting the cheers that are rightfully reserved for a Grim Reaper undead-like being such as him... but receiving naught but boos instead. This does not deter Spooky Doom in the least. Standing, he delivers his address to all listeners.]
Doom: Wednesday night, at the Westfallen Stadium-
Mandy: WESTFALENSTADION!
Doom: SOMEWHERE IN GERMANY!!! The Evil Dead makes his Ascension debut, beginning his ascension in SPW! Ambition is fulfilled through the ashes of one's enemies; to you James O'Connor, your fate comes on the back of three of the most terrifying words to plague humanity: JIGOKU NO DANTODAI!!! The Hell's Guillotine...
[He lets those last words linger in the air, foreboding with their inherent menace as the crowd eventually drowns him out with their jeers. Spooky leaves the studio as we fade out...]
________________
“Jester” Chad Allen
________________
[We open to an alleyway somewhere in Anytown, USA. This alley is definitely not in the "nice" part of town. Graffiti covers the old brick walls and the filthy, slime ridden garbage dumpsters. The back of the alley is a gray cement wall with some graffiti of its own. A single light shines down from one of the buildings that creates this alleyway, and casts a shadow on a single man sitting amongst the filth. The man wears a black hooded trench coat, black jeans, and black combat style boots....
Oh, and clown paint...can't miss the clown paint.
The Jester is here, and he wants to talk...
His head is down, his legs out in front of him, the rest of his body sort of dangles, like a toy that has been left sitting in a corner for too long. He does not look up to us right away as he speaks to us in a hushed tone.]
JCA: You all know what happens when you get a wild animal, trapped and alone, don't you? It kicks in a fight or flight reflex that is normal in ALL animals, including the human animal.
[And he looks up, showing the half on/half off face paint he has worn as of late.]
And that is where I have been left, trapped in a corner, all alone...
[Jester turns his head to the side, showing his human face to us, another rare glimpse into what almost could be the "normal" Chad Allen...]
JCA: My true love, Iris Galiver, has turned her back on me...
[He stops, almost choking on the words. He quickly turns his head to the painted side again, and his voice quickly clears up.]
JCA: My mentor, Vile Vince Viper, has up and left, never to be seen from again. Deathknell was never truly under my control, and my Children have left me embarrassed and ashamed, losing to a SINGLE WOMAN in front of the world.
[Jester looks straight to us now, his eyes light of angry fire.]
JCA: And the apologists can talk all they would like about the toughness of Marissa Monet, but ANYONE I have ever trained, and taken in as members of my own Family should NEVER lose to a single person, woman or man. I give my knowledge to my followers so that they may learn to be tougher, meaner, and more violent than the normal person, but my Children are nothing more than a black mark on my career, so they shall be left to fend for themselves now.
[His last few words are almost spit out, his anger is palpable. He stops for a moment, collecting his thoughts, looking around the alley where he has left himself.]
JCA: And now I step into the ring, alone, angry and thirsting for blood, against 3 of the toughest opponents that I can step into the ring with, and the fight or flight response kicks in. And while Christian, Whisper, and Volga are stepping into the ring for simply a shot at the SPW World Heavyweight Title, I am stepping into the ring for THE FIGHT, as well as so much more than that...
[Again, turning to his "human" side for a moment]
JCA: I step in to show Iris that she has made the biggest mistake of her life abandoning me...
[Facing front]
JCA: I step in to show Vile Vince Viper that the years I spent listening to his psychotic ramblings have made a mark....
[And to the clown side.]
JCA: I step in to show Deathknell and the Children that they should fall to my feet as the one true God of Hardcore, for they owe EVERYTHING to me...
[Back to the front again, Jester gets to his feet, slowly stepping towards us after each word.]
JCA: I step in to show all of you that I am not your joke, not your punchline, no matter how much clown paint I wear...
[And now he is on our "face" a small smile crossing his lips, the trademark evil of the Wicked Clown of Wrestling]
JCA: I step into the ring this week to show you all that I am THE Ultraviolent force to be reckoned with. I step into the ring to show that even against your "Born Champion" or your "Heartless One" or your "Masked Mystery" that 2010 is STILL the year that I stand atop a mountain of my victims, a bloody pile reaching as high as the sky, as your WORLD CHAMPION.
[Jester starts to chuckle, which slowly turns into that trademark evil laughter that still haunts many people's nightmares. He starts laughing so hard for a moment that tears run down his cheeks, but then he suddenly just....
STOPS...
And stares...
staring....
not moving a muscle....
as if he is waiting for us to flinch....
after what seems like an eternity, he smiles again, and returns to the sitting position he started in at the beginning.]
JCA: I am the "Jester" Chad Allen, The Wicked Clown, The Hardcore GOD, and soon to be your World Champion, and I ALWAYS have THE LAST LAUGH.
[Fade to black.]
_______
Whisper
_______
*Slam!* [The door behind Whisper slammed shut, the masked man however appeared in street clothes for a change. Basic blue jeans and a long sleeves white shirt, his hands tucked into his pockets while he walked down the hallway.] *SLAM! SLAM!*[Simultaneously two doors were slammed closed as he walked past them down the hall, the camera continued to slide backwards while the unlikely main eventer spoke up.]Whisper: In my life, doors have been slammed shut, time and time again. [Stopping after a moment, Whisper looks forward at a door ahead of him and to the right.] Whisper: When I see a door open, and I move towards it... *SLAM!* [Stopping just short of getting pasted in the face, Whisper looks away. Turning around to see a door directly behind him, Whisper took a step towards it.] Whisper: It has a tendency to be slammed back in my face. *SLAM!* Whisper: And others are closed before I can even consider entering them. [Whisper turns around, turning his back to the camera and looking back down the hallway to where he came from. Walking back to the original door he walked through, he reached forward and began twisting the door knob, trying to wedge it back open. The door not budging an inch.] Whisper: Sometimes the doors I've past through, I can never return to...no matter how much I may want to. So my only choice... [Looking back down the hallway.]Whisper: Is to force myself to move on... [Walking forward towards the camera again, his pace much more determined than it was before. Passing the doors that were closed already, another set of doors slamming closed alongside of him. Whisper never looked away from the straight ahead.]Whisper: Eddie Christian ran through door after door to become the Fusion and Tag Team Champion. *SLAM! SLAM!*
*SLAM! SLAM!* [His pace picking up to a run, the camera staying in front of him the Hallway showing door after door slamming shut as Whisper began sprinting past them.] Whisper: Chad Allen and his Family have a wide open door to Wrestlebowl, a doors they have thrown open time and time again... *SLAM! SLAM!* Whisper: Jakob Volga has kicked open every door that was ever in front of him... *SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!* [With the crack of wood again the door frame echoing in rapid succession, Whisper came to a sudden and abrupt halt.] Whisper: I have respect for the other 3 men that I'll be meeting on Conquest. But the respect that I have for them is limited by my desire to go onto Wrestlebowl and become the SPW World Champion. Because for every door that slams shut behind me....there's one door...that I have no choice but...[Reaching out past the camera...] *SLAM!* [Whisper slams the door shut on the camera, the wooden door now cutting off the world from the enigma.] Whisper: To slam shut on everyone else...[Carved crudely into the door read "...the future is unwritten...", the sceen fading to black._____________
Eddie Christian
_____________
[The Welsh National Memorial Park is situated in the heart of Alexandra Gardens.. The memorial is there as a celebration for those military members who's lost their lives during World Wars I and II. The memorial take form of a circular colonnade. At the center is a group of bronze statues arranged around a stone pylon. Around the base of the pylon lies three sculptures. A soldier, A sailor, and an airman. At the top of the pylon rests a winged angel with sword in hand. From behind the pylon walks Eddie Christian. He is dressed in turkish bath neon nylon hooded jacket over a shark colored LVTHN graphic t-shirt, white cargo shorts, and a pair of low top white Chuck Taylor converse. On his face is a pair of rimless oversized Aviator glasses. Hanging from his neck is Barry Baldwin's dog tags.. He grabs on to them as he reads the scriptures to himself. The Fusion championship is resting around his left shoulder, he holds on to the curve of the belt with his left hand. With a trembling sigh..]
Eddie: "Remember here in peace those who in tumult of war. By sea, on land, in air, for us and for our victory endureth unto death." [After reading the scripture out loud, he closes his eyes for a bit once again grabbing his dog tags.]Eddie: "A good soldier has been injured in the midst of war. Barry Baldwin, we had a good match my friend, and I really wish you the best and godspeed in your recovery. And in your loss, we also lost another. The ever-so-aging Vile "Vince" Viper finally decided to hang up his boots as well. And while everyone is sitting around in shock and awe... the prophecy I proposed is slowly coming to fruition. We are ousting the old, and creating new stars. We are in the midst of a change... a new world order is among the horizon.. and as Fusion champion, I am leading the charge. I've heard the rumblings in the back.. VVV's days are done. The Age of Davis is all fizzed out, and irrelevant. They are not the word of mouth anymore.. check your internet wrestling pages. People are talking about the Eddie Christians, The James O'Connors, The "Sugar" Shayne Grissoms. WE are the change that SPW needs. Not Volga, not Whisper, and definitely not some stalker ass clown who's only obsession is a woman who thought she was a child. [His lips form a smirk.]Eddie: "I'm a personal believer of the phrase 'as one door closes, another one opens'.. and I believe that is the circumstance that we're all faced with in this match, because without Viper's sudden retirement.. a World title match for one of us at Wrestlebowl would be non-existant. And truthfully I am looking forward to taking that open slot. Yes, I've read the comments... I've read how people question my heart.. can Eddie wrestle in 3 title matches in on the same event? They think that I'm trying to put all my eggs in one basket. But honestly? I'm not worried.. I am ready physically and mentally to do so. I'm ready to prove to everyone in the whole world that Eddie Christian is one of the greatest competitors today. So the question isn't can Eddie Christian handle this four-way match.. the question is can Volga, Whisper, or Chad Allen stop the storm, the commodity, the hot streak that I have formed for myself?"[His eyebrows raise in question.]Eddie: "Every man in this match has a story to be told, each one of us has a want for that vacant SPW World title. But I'm willing to kick, scratch, and claw in order to crush the other three's aspirations. And of the four of us, I'm probably the one with the least amount of years as a professional wrestler, but that's a mountain that I have proven that I can overcome time and time again. And this match is just a small step in right dire ction to get across my point...[He removes his sunglasses.]
Either pass the torch, and have it forced from you. You have a choice... for now. Because pretty soon, you won't have that option."[He puts his sunglasses back on his face.]Eddie: "The so-called main event scene hasn't been compelling as of late. But all that is about to change. We're taking baby steps, but a war is brewing. It's time for a revolt. I've said it before.. in with the new and out with the old. Everyday a star is born.. Whisper, Allen, Jakob.. I'm sorry, but it is MY time to shine."[Eddie nods, as he exits the scene.]
Brady “Boltz” Lowell
__________________
[The scene opens to a lone empty park bench, with a beautifully
landscaped park behind it. Trees line the perfectly landscaped grassy
medians that sandwich the cobblestone walking path, as a few birds off
in the distance fly off, scattering in different directions. The
camera pans around to the skyline view of downtown Boston, and it
becomes clear to those familiar with the city, that the setting is
Piers Park in East Boston. The Harbor full of life on this Wednesday
just days after Conquest took place in this very city. As the camera
pans back to the bench, we see a familiar figure sitting on the bench
nonchalantly. Dressed in a plain white t-shirt, with dark blue jeans
and white Air Force One sneakers, along with his trademark Boston Red
Sox classic fitted baseball cap, the man looks off in the distance,
admiring the view before turning his attention to the camera...]
Lowell: Well, no one ever accused me of not being able to make an
entrance. There's an old saying about wrong place, wrong time. For me?
I'm always in the right place, at the right time, and I always know
_exactly_ what to do when given a little rope. Most guys, get a little
rope and they hang themselves. I get a little rope and I become a Boy
Scout. I twist that rope into whatever knot the situations call for
and on the last Conquest, it called for a little retribution.
[laughs]
Lowell: Marcus Davis, it was nothing personal. At least not on my end.
Now Samantha Bevins? That's another story. Unfortunately for you
Davis, you couldn't have been in a worse spot. Conquest in my hometown
of Boston, Sam Bevins with the wrath of a million angry hornets running
through her veins...talk about bad timing. Now I know guys like you,
and I know you're going to want to get your little "revenge" and part
of me can respect that. But another part of me thinks if you're gonna
go that route, that you're just about the stupidest person in this place
and that certainly says something. Realize you were just a stepping
stone for me, and I literally stepped on you...don't get me wrong. But
chalk it up as a bad day at the office, before I turn into a nightmare
that haunts you in ways you can't even begin to imagine....
[As Brady "Boltz" Lowell speaks the word "imagine" he stands up and
walks over to the railing that is the only thing keeping people from
being able to walk right into the Harbor itself. He leans against it
looking out with a focus in his eyes as the camera stands to his right
side. He turns with a contemplative look on his face before speaking
again...]
Lowell: I'm gonna admit, I've checked out the SPW a few times while
I've been away. And to be honest, most of the names don't jump out at
me. I couldn't tell you who is worthy of my attention, and who I
wouldn't piss on if they were on fire. Each name on the roster at this
point to me represents an opportunity. An opportunity to do what I do
best and that's win. Well...win and cause havoc. To get to the top
here, I'm gonna have to start from the bottom. And that's fine,
everyone's just a stepping stone who I'll step on and over on my way
to eventually holding the World Title. Sam Deringer who I wouldn't
know if you sat next to me on the T, you're first up. Opportunity
knocks my friend--
And you're just the first in a long line of guys waiting on my door step...
[FADE.]
__________
Johnny Pain
__________
[The camera cuts backstage to Tara Silver as she stands by with Johnny Pain, already decked out in his wrestling gear. He stands rubbing his wrists as Tara starts off asking the question everyone is wanting to know.] Tara: Johnny, you did the unthinkable last week after your match with Colt Montana, the whole world and SPW fans are wondering, what caused you to snap like you did? [Johnny looks at Tara with a quirked eyebrow and shook his head.]Johnny: Ever since I came back to this company, no one has showed me the respect I deserve. Management seems to think my past history here was nothing, I made a huge impact when I came here a few years ago, but I left because of personal reasons. I don't want to rehash those old memories but maybe management is mad about the fact that I left and didn't stay because of their exclusive signing's. I made a name for myself in IGA and I wasn't about to abandon them. That's where my loyalty lied, and when the IGA shut down, I moved on. I went to Japan and did very well for myself, but I forgot one very important thing and started doing what the fans wanted. [Johnny shook his head and rolled his shoulders.] Tara: What was that?Johnny: I changed my wrestling style, I wasn't being the real me, I was a carbon copy of all the high flying excitement the fans over there wanted to see. I lost sight of my roots, and coming back to SPW and the reception was the same as usual, but the fans don't pay money to see carbon copies, they pay to see real wrestler's do what they do best, and that's exactly what Colt Montana experienced. Johnny Pain doing what he does best, making bitches tap out! Tara: You shook hands with Colt before the match, why did you chose him of all people to attack after a great showing the two of you had? Johnny: Why him? He had just beat me in a match, humiliated me, and that's when I realized I had to make a stand, I'm not some stepping-stone for young rookie's to propel themselves to the top. I'm Johnny Pain, the best technical wrestler in the world. Along the way I forgot that, but not anymore. You won't see me doing anymore 450 splashes, or shooting star presses, I will do what I was trained to do. Beat and wear down my opponent until they can't take anymore, slap on a submission and tear tendon's and strain muscles! [Johnny turned looking into the camera.] Johnny: Tonight, "Big" Bob Brown, you're going to learn first hand what it's like to cross paths with the most dangerous technical wrestler in professional wrestling today. As far as the rest of boys in the back go, friend or foe, if you get in my way back to the top, I'll put you out of action for a long, long time! [Johnny turns and heads away from the camera leaving a speechless Tara standing there before the camera faded to black.]_____________
DEATHKNELL
_____________
[Fade in from black.
Smoke rises from an unknown source against a black screen. As the camera pans down to find the origin of the smoke, there is a dark black metal object resting on the ground, because of the darkness of the room and the dull grey metal of the object there is no real way to determine what exactly it is. Just then, a voice shouts out.]
VOICE: What is best in life?
[There is a pause. Then another deeper voice speaks.]
VOICE#2: To crush your enemies...
[Just then the scene flashes to the beast, the monster, the killing machine known only as DEATHKNELL. In slow motion he wraps his massive hand around the throat of Juyna Kontani and lifts him up into the air, as he does that the sound effects is that of a machine winding up to a high speed, and with little effort DEATHKNELL slams Kontani into a pane of glass. Shards go all over the place, but DEATHKNELL just stands there...
Black. Silence. Until.]
VOICE#2: ...see them driven before you...
[DEATHKNELL again is seen swinging a large bronze bell attached to a chain in slow motion, again there is the sound of the machine being revved into a higher gear than before giving off a wicked industrial sound of chaos. DEATHKNELL swings the chain and in turn the bronze bell right into the back of "Sugar" Shayne Grissom's head.
Black. Safety. Until.]
VOICE#2: ...and to hear the lamentation of their women.
[Again the horrible machine noise revs up to overdrive as DEATHKNELL and his glowing red eyes stare down at a broken Johnny Pain from the ring to the floor below where he lies in a heap after meeting the force of raw chaos in a head on collision. Just then the camera cuts back to the black scene with the smoke rising against a metal object, which is now none other than the grey outer skull that served as DEATHKNELL's helmet. It just sits there for a second on a small stone alter, until its eyes begin to glow bright red.
Then...
BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!
An oversized hammer strikes it rippling a dent and smashing pieces to either side. A massive hand holding the long metal shaft of the hammer can be seen. Three words then appear on the screen.
UNMASKED...
...UNLEASHED...
...WRESTLEBOWL.
We fade to black.]
____________________
“Sugar” Shayne Grissom
____________________
[The screen comes to life showing a tape of a man standing on a street corner. A little ways back is a mother and son walking and the son is fidgeting with a hot wheels car and acting like the car is flying, along with applicable noises. As we see this scene, the familiar voice of "Sugar" Shayne Grissom is heard.]
Grissom V/O: A man stands minding his own business when suddenly...
[The scene shows the child losing control of his miniature car and it flying into the roadway. The little boy darts out to grab his toy just as a large truck is driving fast toward him without any real chance at stopping. The screen seems to suddenly pause and move in VERY slow motion as the voice over continues...]
Grissom V/O: Fate. Chance. Whatever you call it intervenes and a decision must be made. In a moment like we have here, things move slow and you have time to weight whether it is a wise move to jump out and grab this child and keep him from harm while risking your own well being or not...
[The scene moves faster, but still in a slowed motion as the man grabs the kid by the arms and jerks him backward just before the truck barrels past them. The screen pauses with the kid having a freaked out expressed, the man also seemingly scared and the mom looking like she is going to explode with the scream she must be emitting from the look of her face. The voice over continues.]
Grissom V/O: Well of course you save the kid. You can't just let a kid get smashed because he dropped his toy. It makes sense when you get a moment to think about it....but in reality...
[The scene shows again in real time and the entire action of the kid dropping his toy and the guy grabbing him away form the truck's path took less then 4 seconds total. The screen immediately flashes to a black screen as Hopper steps out in front of the black background and continues speaking.]
Grissom: ...the amount of time you have doesn't allow logic. You can't weight the pros and cons of the situation or try to plan the best course of action to keep as little injury as possible to yourself in saving the child. It doesn't work like that. When this happens you do whatever it takes to save the life of the little boy.
Nothing else matters.
[Shayne grins a little before he continues.]
Grissom: I love it when I woke up and saw blogs dedicated to making this some form of me sticking up for my mentor by coming to the ring after Spooky Doom decided to sell himself into Greedy's service. They really think that I am just Hopper's robot...a carbon copy of a great legend. However, they would be wrong. I respect Chris and all he has taught me over these few years, but he doesn't control what I say or do. I am my own man and my future is dependant on that and that alone.
I'd like to say that I thought for a second whether to get back to the ring to help or not. I'd like to admit that I weighed the positive and negative side of keeping Steve Greedy and his goons from injuring O'Conner. I'd like to be able to claim any of that, but I can't.
[Shayne pauses and then his face gets a serious look.]
Grissom: Because in that split second you do what it takes to help no matter what.
[Shayne smiles.]
Grissom: Greedy and I have no issues with each other. I was just making sure that if Steve wants to do harm to O'Conner...he has to do it himself in a match situation and not by hiring goons to come out and bash him down to a helpless heap. Personally, Steve and James can have a knock-down, drag-out fight if they wish...but it should at least begin as a fair fight and go from there.
I learned that from my father.
[Hopper walks to his left, leaving the black screen background behind and sits on a bench that shows production area bustling behind him.]
Grissom: He always told me that the guy who is willing to use anybody and everybody he possibly can against you probably isn't tough enough to do it on his own.
It was a great lesson and it has served me well during my travels...but the irony of that lesson reaches farther than I ever believed it would. It reaches all the way to Blake Covington.
[Shayne makes a funny face as if he doesn't believe himself.]
Grissom: What?!? Covington played no part in Greedy's attack! How could that lesson apply to him?
[Shayne smiles confidently.]
Grissom: It does, probably more directly than anyone realizes. I realize Blake is probably able to eventually find out or even see this little interview and so I'm going to address him personally to explain it. Most of you at home will be able to follow along easily, but Blake.....well he will need this extra tutorial to understand it
To put it bluntly....Blake Covington is an ass.
[A football comes flying into the viewing area and Shayne catches it with ease. He smiles as he continues his talk.]
Grissom: Well....I'll be nice about it. Blake is a "Mule" to be exact.
You see, Blake is only three years older than I am and both of us are from Missouri. In fact, his hometown of Poplar Bluff was less then ninety minutes from my home in the suburbs of St. Louis. Blake played football for Poplar Bluff High School, which is home of the fighting Mules. They really are pretty good for their size of school and my Dad was an assistant coach for scouting and strength conditioning for my high school. It was his job to scout teams that were on our schedule or might come down the road in the State playoffs.
So Blake, I have known you for a LONG time.
[Shayne keeps fumbling around with the football, flipping it over as he talks and various moves to keep his hands busy.]
Grissom: I remember going to scout Farmington during my freshman year and they just happened to be playing the Mules. The Mules had this tough, big kid that was going to play football in college and everyone felt Farmington could find a way to neutralize him.
That kid was you. My Father was there to watch the team you played that night, but what I walked away with was learning what an ass a Mule could really be.
Do you remember this Blake?
[Shayne's smile disappears and his fumbling of the football ceases as well.]
Grissom: The game was over. Farmington had no chance to come back. It was 48-6 with only a few minutes left on the clock.
Is your memory clearing up buddy?
The ball gets snapped and this guy comes around and the offensive line can't stop him. He's wearing number ninety-eight and the quarterback releases the ball well in time. The ball is sailing down the field and way over any possible receiver, but before the ball lands the defensive player plows into the quarterback with full force. The quarterback doesn't move at all after hitting the ground and the referee throws the yellow flag for the late hit.
[Shayne allows a sly semi-grin to escape his lips.]
Grissom: That was you. The referee threw the flag and you stood over that quarterback like he was your personal whipping boy. His teammates came to defend him and you started shoving them away one by one before both teams were nearly ready to riot. You were an antagonizer and a thug.
You may have been this clean-cut white boy from a small town ready to make his mark on college football, but on that night you were anything but clean-cut.
[Shayne gets up and steps around the bench, leaning back to steady himself on the back of it as he keeps talking.]
Grissom: That is when my dad told me that he hated teams fighting like that, but when somebody is obviously a jerk with no class and no sportsmanship, then taking him down a peg isn't the worst thing that could happen.
Right now you walk around here trying to claim a moniker that doesn't fit you. You call yourself "The Chosen One"...but in reality there is nothing chosen about you. Everything you have gotten, you have received because you tried to bully your way into getting them or found a loophole.
You're a bully.
You're a cheap-shot artist.
And this episode of Conquest, you are just another rung on the ladder for me.
[Shayne smiles and even sighs a sound of contentment.]
Grissom: You see, my ticket to Wrestlebowl is punched and I have a date to win the Fusion Title from Eddie Christian. That isn't going to change win or lose against you. This is one of those matches that people will think I could be upset in....but I have a purpose.
It isn't a title shot.
It isn't to keep my standing in the rankings.
It is retribution.
[Shayne pauses as he stands up fully.]
Grissom: You have to pay for the way you conducted yourself against others. I don't remember that quarterback's name, but I may have seen greater things from him had you not hurt him needlessly. He could have been something or developed into a special talent had you managed to control yourself and not be a true Mule. I hope you are ready Blake because you are about to play a role in the unfolding future of SPW. The future is Shayne Grissom as the Fusion Champion.
No doubt the future is right now...
[The screen gets a close up of Shayne face as he winks and smiles for his tag line.]
Grissom: And its sweeter than sugar.
[Fade to black.]
____________
Rich Patterson
____________
[Rich Patterson is stood in an airport parking lot, killing time with a promo before boarding a long flight to Europe ]
Patterson: Pride, it is said, comes before a fall. A fall, it is said, comes after committing a heinous sin. To follow this logic, that means that pride is a sin that deserves the most severe punishment imaginable, to reduce what was once great to mere ashes, to serve as a warning.
Team EGO, it seems, did not consider this last time they crossed my path, as they talked and talked and TALKED without saying anything of note, honestly believing they could fool people into thinking they had a chance of upsetting the apple cart at my expense, and they came up short. You could even say that they flaked out when offered a chance on a plate, exposing themselves as the charlatans they truly are.
Yet they are still able to talk, because they have one speck of bullshit remaining – they can say that we did not beat them, so therefore they were cheated. Yet they want to throw this accusation, this sliver of an excuse of an accusation, at me. They think that I am the one who screwed them over, prevented them from reaching their goal and cementing their greatness.
All I say is this: leave your insecurities and your excuses at the door of those who would not let you prove you could get the job done, and don’t inflict it on those who had nothing to do with your coming up short. Do not take your frustration out on myself, or Chance Fortuna – if you want to make an issue of it, you don’t waste your breath and my time with your bullshit, you go ask Eddie Christian and Marissa Monet why they had to spoil your chance.
You won’t, of course, because that’s not like you – blaming me represents the easy way to do things, which is what you represent. I’m not the one who got the match thrown out, I’m not the one who interfered, but no doubt you think that focusing all your energies on getting some kind of “retribution” will justify your existence for another week. Why allow the idiotic logic that only the so-called bad guys are the ones to blame for everything, when you know in your heart of hearts that it’s those egotists who couldn’t stop us taking their titles who fucked you over. So, I repeat, you should be taking up this issue with them, not me.
But you’re not being allowed to think for yourselves, are you? And that’s the point.
No, you two are being placed in singles matches against, to blow off some steam and regain some honour. Again, if you want to regain some honour, why not find Christian and Monet when their guard is down, and attack them from behind to see how they like it? They did it to us, and that’s what affected you – so why aren’t you doing just that?
And the luck of the draw placed me against Owen Cage, which had a 50/50 chance of happening, and in a stroke we’re both told we’re the weak links in the team. After all, your partner and my partner made Conquest, whilst we’re stuck on Ascension – that has to sting, doesn’t it Cage? When you’re publicly told you aren’t as big a deal as your partner, and all because of Eddie Christian and Marissa Monet getting involved in a match they had no right to be involved with.
That isn’t the sole kick to the nutsack of your colossally deluded ego, either. Not only are you being told you’re the weak link of your team, but you got paired against me in the week somebody realised what was going on and decided that I should be the member of the roster in the spotlight. It’s as if you’re being written off by those who pay your salary, Cage, and that should worry you almost as much as the prospect of facing the member of the roster that is ready, willing and capable to demonstrate his worth to those who think I don’t deserve to be where I am, and I will GLADLY do so if I have to do it one member of the roster after another.
Oh yes, Cage, I know full well that we have a match, and I know that you are probably quivering with pent-up, if misplaced, rage at the thought of getting to face me one more time, showing your worth as a potential tag team champion. But we both know, as everybody knows, that you cannot function if you’re driven by anything other than your vacuous need for somebody to give a flying fuck who you are, which will overrule your sense of vengeance each and every time your subconscious has to make a choice, and we know why, don’t we? Because, Cage, you are weak – you spend so log thinking of yourself, you cannot possibly focus your rage against another person, because you have to think of someone other than yourself. No wonder you’re being played in a way where you might assume that I am the man who wronged you, because it’s easy for you to go with that than realise that I was looking to beat you to prove my worth, not get involved to prove nothing whatsoever but still interfere in the business of four people other than themselves.
You had better be listening to what I am telling you, Cage, because I’m not going to stand here and reel off 10,000 clichés about kicking your ass to make things easy for people to switch their brains off and follow mindlessly. I’m telling you that if you think you will get some kind of retribution against me, you will be disappointed no matter what the outcome. Disappointed because you didn’t right the man who wronged you – and disappointed because I will not let you get close to your bullshit idea of vengeance, and will educate you with extreme prejudice.
Still, one comfort for you – doubtless the crowds are as mindless in Germany as they are in the Conformist States, so whilst they may be baying for blood at least it will sound familiar to you, because no crowd wants to stand out as individual, do they?
[FTB]
__________
Poet Wright
__________
[Fade in:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!
The manic laughter rings through the screen as we fade from black. Poet Wright is seated down in her bunker. Her mask sits next to her, its grim visage looking back at her. The mask has been scored with blood and hair from Poet's past in ring victims. Poet is dressed in her black robes, but she does wear the head gear. The ghastly scars are evident and her face is not made up so the livid keloids stand out in high relief. She strokes her mask affectionately.]
Poet: This match is bad comedy. Poet Wright and Tiffany Lane versus Erika Sato and Heather Owens? Who created this nonsense? Who thought this would even be a match? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!
[Poet wipes tears from her eyes.]
Poet: Understand one fundamental and universal truth, I hate Tiffany Lane more than any other human being on this planet. I can't believe that anybody would doubt that. Do you honestly think I would soil my hands with something like a tag? Do you think I would trust her at my back for a second?
[Poet shakes her head violently. She pauses in her insane laughter and cocks an ear towards her mask, listening to something. It appears almost as if she is listening to the mask. She nods gravely.]
Poet: Yes, I understand that it is an opportunity to hurt Heather Owens prior to our match at Wrestlebowl, but that is so far away. Even a jumped up reporter can heal in that time. No, we won't be given the opportunity to hurt her, darling.
[She caresses the mask's cheek.]
Poet: Tiffany Lane has nothing to gain in this match except face time on the camera. Don't you know how her mind works? She's going to try to leave us all lying to prove that she is the alpha female of the SPW. This won't be a match. This will be Tiffany Lane trying to outsmart everybody else. Too bad it's not going to happen. Too bad Poet Wright is smarter than Tiffany Lane and Samantha Bevins. Too bad that Young and Beautiful and all the other female rejects will never ever get ahead of Poet Wright.
[She turns towards the camera.]
Poet: For all of you watching this please understand, a woman must have her principles. And unlike Tiffany Lane, I am not one who is inconsistent. I do not alter when an alteration I find. I do not bend with the remover to remove. I have always been what I am. My convictions have never ever changed. I am the strongest of will. I am the mad, bad and dangerous one. So Heather, you have nothing to fear from me when this match begins. But Tiffany ... Tiffany you have something to fear from me. How many years has it been? How many years of torment from you have I endured?
[The mask seems to speak to Poet again. She nods her head, following along with a dialogue that cannot be heard by the sane.]
Poet: She has been tormenting me since long before you were born, my dear. Ever since I joined this promotion Tiffany Lane made a career of tormenting me. She tried to put me down at every opportunity. She tried to break my spirit. Well, she forged me into something stronger, harder and more cruel. So, for those of you who make bets on the matches, I suggest you put your money on Erika and Heather. I don't see this turning out well for Tiffany at all.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
[Fade out]
___________
Tiffany Lane
___________
[The scene opens at The Laguna Health and Spa in Cardiff. It’s here that we find Tiffany Lane, seated in a plush chair and flipping through a magazine. The blonde bombshell is clad in a white robe, her hair pulled back and styled in a bun. One would think that she would be a pleased mood, having sampled many of the spa’s treatments. But as she looks up, we note the scowl that crosses her lovely features, proving that our earlier assessment was wrong.]
Tiffany: I can’t believe this!
[She closes the magazine and slams it on the nearby table for emphasis.]
Tiffany: They’re actually forcing me to tag with that…that…uneducated savage, Poet Wright!?!
[She leans back and folds her arms across her ample chest, crossing her shapely legs.]
Tiffany: It just doesn’t make sense. I should be working with a partner more on my level, someone as young and beautiful as me. Instead, I get stuck with this mentally-deficient skank with the cutting fetish, someone whose very presence I can’t even stand and who has made no bones about her own jealousy of me.
[She sneers, shaking her head.]
Tiffany: I’ll just tell you this, Poet. You’d better uphold your end of this team. Because winning this and humbling that tart, Heather Owens, is very important to me right now. And I won’t have anyone, including you, screwing that up for me. Understand?
[She leans closer, glaring at the camera.]
Tiffany: Because if you mess this up for me in anyway, I won’t hesitate to turn around and slap the ugly right off of you. And you know that I can do it too. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.
[She finally smiles, although it doesn’t quite reach her green eyes.]
Tiffany: You remember those days, don’t you? When I used to own your ass on the regular?
[She lets out a laugh.]
Tiffany: Hell, I can’t even count the amount of times that I’ve left you humiliated and defeated in the ring. You’d be wise to remember that I’m the same woman that made your SPW career a living Hell. Because if you act like you’ve forgotten that and get in my way, during this match, I’ll make those times look like a day at the park and leave you an even bigger mess than you already are.
[She smirks, quite pleased with herself.]
Tiffany: Speaking of messes, I guess I should say a little something about our inferior competition too. Sato, you just need to sit on the apron and mind your business. Because this is all about me getting my hands on Heather and beating her like a piñata.
See, the last time she and I wrestled, the little weirdo lucked herself into a win. But tonight, that’s not happening. Because she’s going to finally learn what happens when you screw around with Young and Beautiful.
Poor Nikki tired to teach her that lesson herself. But we all know what happened there.
[She shrugs her shoulders.]
Tiffany: Fortunately, I’m a worthier candidate for breaking a bitch and a woman that can actually get the job done. So, Heather, get ready to get that ass kicked in just a few short hours. Because tonight, I finish the job I started and move that much closer to reclaiming _my_ women's title.
[Fade to blonde.]
___________
Lindsey Page
___________
[Page yoga. Lindsey is sitting in a blackened room, during Earth Hour perhaps, on a Saturday Night in her vacated gym, specially opened just for her. The conditioned athlete is packed with muscle, looking younger, healthier, vitalized beyond her appearance the first time she was here. Her hazel eyes opening up, Lindsey takes a deep breath and stares out ahead.]
Page: Welcome back SPW, to the Lindsey Page show. Let me tell you a little bit about who I am, for those of you new to the federation since I last sat for the cameras.
[Her black tanktop and pulled back fire red hair tied behind her head, Lindsey looks towards the camera as a hot sweat drips down the back of her neck amid the cool air of the A.C. unit]
Page: I was a top ranked contender for the Women's World Championship. I was a member of The Black Mass, and became the first woman to leave that group, back when leaving the Black Mass was still cool. These new versions since, they were nice but they couldn't hold a candle to The Biz, Chance Fortuna, Vic Morrison and Lindsey Page. We were the evil in SPW, we were the team to be feared. And why? Not necessarily because we were despicable individuals, but because we did whatever we wanted and fought whoever came at us, as a team. A unit.
Then when my contract came up for renewal I had the chance to go and headline a federation and I admit, I took their huge money contract. At the time I had been fighting with Marissa Monet and took her to the limit inside a steel cage. In fact I'll bet no one has been able to take 'Rissa down like I have, and seeing her as a World Tag Champion I can see that no one has been able to deflate her like I have.
Unsurprising. Then I went to the ICWF a rival federation, we even competed against Conquest on the same night and time slot as Monday Night Dy-No-Mite saw Lindsey Page go tooth and nail with Iris Galiver, Nikki James, Angst, Ramona Rheaume and all the rest. But good things don't always last forever and now that it's been almost a calendar year since I've left, it's time to show this new generation of superstar women exactly what old school is all about.
Women like Heather Owens, Erika Sato, like Orchid, like Kaycee Tanner. Women who do know me like Tiffany Lane, Nina Larue, and Poet Wright. Women who I've dealt with before like Angst and of course, my friend Iris Galiver. It's good to see some familiar faces. It's not so good to see faces like Sensuous Samantha Bevins though. How that woman gets to where she is is beyond me, but I bet anything kneepads were involved.
[Page smirks superior.]
Lindsey: And that's how some women do business I get that. After all these years I don't even really have a problem with it. After all, Samantha Bevins is a dirty, no good, bottom feeding, backstabbing, skankified, snake in the grass, piece of shit whore and everyone knows to bring more than a few boxes of condoms when they go into the back room with her. And you know what? That's cool with me. Whatever works for you ma'am, you go to it. And women like Tiffany Lane. The only thing with more silicone than her chest is what's in between her ears, a self righteous self serving spoiled little Diva if I've ever seen one. The Queen of entitlements, of being hand pampered and treated like she craps out rosebuds. But that's cool too, no problems from me. It's what she is and we all know it.
And then you have Poet Wright. I like to live so I'll move on.
But I think we get the point. You're looking at the one female Superstar, SPW, that calls it like it is, doesn't mince words and pretend to be something she's not. There isn't a drop of silicone in my body, and there isn't a thought of self-entitlement in my head. This fire red is my natural hair color, and this body I have is through constant training, unlike Nikki James, I don't need performance enhancers to do my work, I eat right and I sleep well, and I train hard.
Because I know in my heart I am the best. You people just don't realize that yet. But you will.
[Lindsey's eyes close.]
Page: You will, all in due time. But I'm here to earn my way up the ladder, starting from the bottom and heading to the very top. And if one woman manages to beat me, then I will accept my loss and come back at her twice as hard the next time. Because that's what I am, that's what I do. I am a true professional wrestler, and while people may make money calling this Sports Entertainment and trying to sell pay per views and T-Shirts, I am really just here for one reason and one reason only.
To Wrestle.
Well, to wrestle and win.
[Lindsey opens her eyes, green hazel shining through.]
Page: You see unlike last time, I don't have a chip on my shoulder. I'm not the bitter, young girl hating on everyone because I'm jealous, or envious as to what they have. I know what it's like to live life outside of SPW, and I've earned my stripes by driving up and down the road through countless cities to compete for my trade, a job I love to do that is my life. I've come full circle, and while I have nothing to prove to myself- I do have something to prove to you. And my crowning glory will be proof through my capturing of the one prize I've always wanted... the SPW Women's World Title belt.
[Lindsey smiles, picturing the shiny gold around her waist.]
Page: And that's all there is to it. So come Monday Night, in the Millennium Stadium, I'm not sure how, but I will make it into that ring and I will be successful in my debut. And from there, the sky's the limit. So welcome me back SPW... and don't be surprised when I take it over alongside my new team, the SPW fans that have been so great to me already. I'm here to kick some ass and take some names, and as far as I'm concerned each and every one of you are standing in my way to the Championship. Who will I strike first?
Well we'll just have to see that on Monday. Namaste.
[Lindsey Page closes her eyes again, to meditate on future success. Fade out.]
___________
Andrew Davis
____________
[Cardiff Castle, Wales. Walking along the grounds, dressed in a black overcoat, is Andrew Davis. He smiles at the camera.]
Davis: While I’m partial to Ireland, I’m rather enjoying my time here in Wales. The weather is appropriate, the beer is cold, and there’s nothing like a good castle to kick-start the imagination. The only castle I’ve seen in America is guarded by an overgrown rat in Orlando, and this is much, much better. It’s always a treat to visit one of a kind establishments, a wonder of the world.
[He takes a second to look at the clock tower, an enormous gothic structure.]
Davis: It’s even better to have a wonder of the world come to you, which is why Millennium Stadium is sold out for Conquest. When Andrew Davis visits, you go and see him. No if, ands, or buts about it. The official slash unofficial World Champion of Shootfire is a must see attraction.
[Andrew reveals a moment of doubt, genuine worry flashing across his face.]
Davis: My greatness aside, I am worried a little. You see, Shootfire’s World Belt is special, and has spent most of her life with me. She, and she is a she, isn’t very promiscuous. She doesn’t go home with a lot of guys.
[Davis takes a seat on a bench. He crosses his leg, adjusts his pant leg to prevent creasing, and leans back, enjoying the relative peace and quiet in Wales’ largest city.]
Davis: We know each other quite well. She knows that I prefer to carry her over my shoulder, and I know that she doesn’t like to be cooped up, encased in glass. And we both like to look our best at all times.
[Andrew smiles, a private moment, remembering the years (that’s right, years) that the Shootfire World title belt has been in his possession.]
Davis: I’ve never been married, as part of my commitment to my dual superstar careers in Shootfire and Hollywood requires every bit of me. I’m not opposed to an evening, week, or fortnight of pleasure from time to time, but the longest female relationship I’ve had in my life is with the World belt, and she misses me. And I miss her. She just got out of a long, abusive relationship with Sammy Knight when I, like a white knight, a knight in shining armor, returned and reminded her just how good life can be.
That’s not to say that I don’t understand women. I’m an actor, and part of being an actor is to be introspective, to have the ability to dive into roles by thinking as other people, whether they be male, female, or something in between. It’s called the method, and I’ve been well trained.
[A rotund couple walks past Andrew, a digital camera bouncing off the stomach of the guy. He looks at Andrew, who nods, and slows down. It’s obvious that he’s talking to his lady friend, about how that guy looks like Andrew Davis, but why would Andrew Davis be in Wales, and why did he nod, I thought he was a bad guy, and if this meeting were some serendipitous phenomenon, why couldn’t he have used it on Kansas not destroying his brackets in his March Madness tournament. By the time he realizes that maybe, just maybe, he and the Lightweight Legend are in the same park at the same time on the same continent, he’s so far away that he would definitely be classified as a stalker if he returned. Fail.
Andrew smiles, enjoying the effect his fame has on “normals.”]
Davis: I’ll give you a mindset, and see if you can name the person. This person is a perennial top tier competitor, but is unable to smash through the glass ceiling. This person feels validated by capturing the world tag team titles, but still is tortured by the knowledge that every time this person has attempted to reestablish themselves as a threat and legitimate contender in a new field, is always marginalized. Laughed at. A circus act.
This person was just one-upped by their tag team partner, who captured individual gold in Shootfire, something that this person has never done in the division that they are battling in at the moment. This person wants more than anything in the world to become World Champion, and this person is about to become the weak link of their tag team, and soon will be left in the dust by their partner.
This person is scared. This person is backed into a corner. This person will do anything to succeed. So this person knocked on the door of Kieran Rae, someone who knows what it’s like to fail, and begged her way into a match. And to make the biggest splash, this person chose the Face of Shootfire Pro. The Lightweight Legend.
[Andrew smiles. He infinitely amused.]
Davis: I know that when I’m surrounded by the likes of VVV, EVD, and Marcus Davis, my attractiveness is multiplied by a power of ten. Out of every single person in this industry, let alone Shootfire, I am the top. To beat me fair and square is to prove to one and all that you are legitimate.
Here in Cardiff, Wales, it’s about to be a Sadie Hawkins Dance, and of course I’m the one who’s picked to show off my moves. I just hope this person, who will remain nameless, has the ability to keep up. Because I’m a pretty good dancer. And just when you think you’ve caught up, I change the tune.
[Andrew stands and adjusts his outfit, which fits him like a glove. He smiles, slips on his D&G sunglasses, and tips an invisible hat to the camera. He walks away, towards downtown Cardiff, towards Millennium Stadium, towards Conquest. There is a spring in his step, as he knows that very soon, AD3 will be reunited with his lost love, the Shootfire World Championship Belt. Fade to black.]
____________
Marissa Monet
____________
[Fade in:
We open on a shot of the Millennium Centre in the distance. The bronzed
dome structure is impressive with its beauty and the majesty of its
windows inscribed in Welsh and English. Creu Gwir fel gwydr o ffwrnais
awen </wiki/Awen> is the Welsh inscription. In these Stones Horizons
Sing is the English. They stand side by side in monument. They are
eye-catching. But they are not as eye-catching as the imposing figure
who stands in the foreground, looking back at the arena with a hungry
look. Marissa Monet wraps her long black leather coat around her to
ward off the slight chill in the air.
Marissa is tall and muscular and strikingly handsome. She stands six
feet six inches in her stockinged feet and today considerably more in
her high-heeled fuchsia boots. Like most tall women she is long through
the legs and arms and neck, but unlike most women she seems chiseled
from ebony and granite. Those impossibly long legs and sky-touching,
ground-sweeping arms are heavy with muscle, the kind of muscle that
would be the envy of most athletes and body builders. Her shoulders are
wide, giving her back a long V-taper. She looks as if she could carry
the world for Atlas for a time. Some would argue that she already has.
There is something of the Goddess in her visage: the high cheekbones,
the kohl-lined, smoke-lidded golden eyes brighter than her dark
chocolate skin that glow with a superhuman emotion, the hair coiled into
a mass of warrior's braids and the overly generous mouth lipsticked
black. She looks both young and ancient at the same time, as if she has
just arrived yet has always been there an ancient and enduring figure.
Human weakness is not a trait this woman seems to possess. That has
been scrubbed from her long ago.
She turns to face the camera and her determination and hunger are
palpable. Instantly, the magnificence of the man made structure behind
her is forgotten. A Goddess standards before us and this force of
nature is all that the camera can focus upon.]
Marissa: Andrew Davis, I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward
to this. Samantha Bevins set the challenge and you became the prize.
Our first meeting ever. I pray that you won't be as disappointing as
Viper. That was a man I respected before we stepped into the ring and
what did he do? Whine and politic to everybody who would listen as to
why I wasn't ready to win a match against him. How I still had to prove
myself? Why? Because he wanted the referees to think about that every
time they had to make a decision. He wanted them to pause every time
their hand slapped the mat when his shoulders were down. He wanted them
to look the other way when he broke the rules because after all he is
Vile Vince Viper and he probably would have quit had I beat him in the
Death in Darkness match. Sad thing was, all that politicking was for a
match I didn't even care that much about. Yes, it was an honour to step
into the ring with Vile Vince Viper because he was one of my icons in
Shootfire. I watched his career and I saw that it was good.
[She can't help but allow herself a little smile at the memory of one of
the greatest catchphrases of all time.]
Marissa: But it was a mistake stepping in the ring with him. Especially
in a Death in Darkness match. I had nothing against him. He just
didn't have it in him to compete with me on level ground. Now I get to
take on the other Legend of SPW, the lightweight legend.
[She manages to make the word 'lightweight' sound like a grave insult.]
Marissa: I watch you, Andrew Davis. I watch you talk a good game, but
I've never really seen you back it up. Yes, you're a three-time World
champion. I'm trying to become a one-time World champion, so I will
never talk about your accomplishments in the ring. You are good and
that's why I find it my pleasure to face you. I've tried and failed
myself to put down Sammy Knight in the ring. I couldn't do it back
then, but I watched you do it at Iconoclasm. You nearly broke him.
You, more than anybody else, made him upset and frustrated and unsure.
And not only that, but you survived him in the rematch at Charity
Carnage. Andrew Davis, I know how special that is. I know how special
that makes you feel. Big time. Isn't that what you are? The big time
wrestler? The showstealer? The main event?
[Marissa pauses as she thinks about that.]
Marissa: Weren't you the guy pinned by James O'Connor?
[She snaps her fingers, a mocking grin spreading across her lips.]
Marissa: You were the guy pinned by James O'Connor. You were the guy
that lost his title to Vile Vince Viper in a relatively uninspired match
on Conquest. You were the guy who claimed that the Age of Andrew Davis
had begun at Iconoclasm and it was done less than three months later.
[Marissa shakes her head.]
Marissa: I get you, Drew. I really do get you. If it isn't a big
match, you don't give it your all. You don't leave it all out on the
floor. You're as Hollywood as you say you are. You can only bring it
when the big spotlights are on you. You can only get it done when it's
on the grandest stage. I'd be terrified of this match if this were
Wrestlebowl. I'd be terrified of this match if it were the main event
of Conquest, but it isn't, Andrew, is it? And why do I have the feeling
that means that you're going to resort to your "B" game just because you
don't respect the sport and your opponents enough to always always try.
You live in your own world, Andrew. And that's why you can't sustain
the greatness. Hey, you were never as loved or important to SPW as AsH.
You tried to hitch a ride on Dave Pietka's star to the Hall of Fame. He
made it. You didn't. You ushered in the Age of Andrew Davis by
defeating Sammy Knight. It turned out to be a bit of a damp squib,
didn't it? It was never as great as the Red Knight's reign and you were
never as feared as Triple V, were you? Do you know why? Because you
never tried as hard as any of those men. You never gave it your all.
You were never willing to soil yourself for the edification of the
common man. AsH was a true lightweight legend. He suffered in this
ring for his craft. He suffered more punishment and brutality than most
men could imagine, but he survived and became beloved because everybody
knew AsH wouldn't quit in the ring. Dave Pietka? I don't like him, but
I understand everything there is to understand about Dave Pietka. He
really really loves the attention and he is willing to work for it. As
attention whores go, he's the most professional I've ever seen. He will
debase himself for the crowd. He doesn't hold himself above the people.
He doesn't hold himself oblivious to the rest of the world like you do,
Davis. And that's why he's been triumphant. That's why he went to the
Hall of Fame. The people recognised his greatness. You? They saw you
for what you were, a poseur who didn't really want to get his hands
dirty. You didn't really want to give it your all. Shallow, fleeting
fame. Sammy Knight? He was a man who brought it every single night.
He never gave anybody an inch. He never offered less than his best
whether it was Off the Chain or Charity Carnage. And that is why he was
the greatest champion in all of SPW.
[Marissa's expression grows serious. Her mouth flattens out and her
eyes narrow.]
Marissa: Andrew Davis, understand something, I want to be the greatest
SPW Champion. So I've learned from all the greats. I've learned from
AsH, I've learned from Pietka, I've learned from Sammy Knight. I've
learned to never quit no matter what the odds, I've learned to give
every ounce you have in the ring, I've learned to treat each and every
match as if it is the main event of Wrestlebowl. Because you never know
when it's all going to come to an end, Davis, do you? We have no
personal business. Samantha Bevins has set you as an obstacle in my way
in order to get a title shot. There is nothing in this world that I
want more and I'm the SPW World Tag-Team Champion. I'm part of the best
team in the World in Swagger and Desire. But I still want more. I want
to be part of the best team and I want to be known as the best wrestler
in the world. Why, Andrew? Because I believe in greatness. Not my own
ego, but actual greatness. Wrestling is my blood. Not acting. Not
making the scene. I am the Great Black Shark ... the apex predator of
the SPW. And I'm coming to bite you because Sam Bevins has forced me to
in order for me to be the greatest. And it's in a match of my choosing,
Andrew. It's a match that doesn't put you at any more of a handicap.
It's just a match that ensures you and I compete on even footing, first
to the finish. A chance to prove whether you are as good as you say you
are or whether I really do stand at the cusp of greatness. Bring your
"A" game, Davis. I'm bringing mine. I'm ready for my close-up, Andrew.
I'm ready to take my place as the greatest competitor in SPW.
[The camera zooms in onto a close up of Marissa's rawboned and serious
face.]
Marissa: It's my time.
[Her eyes rollover white. Her lids start to flutter.]
Marissa: Ooooohhhhhhh ... Marissa's gonna kill you!
[Fade out]
______________
James O’Connor
______________
[Fade in to a plain black backdrop. We see and hear nothing for a brief moment. The silence is broken by the faintest sound, which gradually gets louder and louder.]
"oooooooooh"
"Ooooooooooh"
"OOOOOoooohh"
"BOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH"
[Slowly floating on the screen are translucent white blobs with horrified looking faces. These low-budget CGI ghosts move in and out of view, wailing all the while.]
"BOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH"
"BOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH"
[Into this harrowing scene steps "Cunning" James O'Connor, sporting his leather jacket, swatting at the air like he's warding off a swarm of gnats. The ghosts give one final howl, then depart off screen. O'Connor turns to the camera, laughing and shaking his head.]
JOC: Ghosts, eh? They're such a pain in the ass.
[Another laugh.]
JOC: You'll forgive the poor effects, I hope. I don't have the same comfort with this level of showmanship that others in this league seem to have. Normally all I need is a camera and a spot where I won't bother anyone. I thought I'd try something different, given how I'm supposed to be working on my "creativity." I'm sure this isn't what they had in mind but, hey, it's a start.
[He runs his fingers through his hair. We see a fading blotch on his forehead where Doom knocked him into next week with his shovel.]
JOC: Spooky, I know we had our rough spots. I never had a shot in that Boneyard Brawl match, which put you on Team SPW. When Baldwin threw you off the team and brought me on, I made a point to find you and apologize. Whether you wanted to hear it or not, I felt sorry for you. You were right - you did what was asked of you and Baldwin shouldn't have cut you.
[The smile, present since the beginning, begins to fade.]
JOC: At least, that's what I thought. Now? Looking back, I'm not so sure.
[Pause.]
JOC: See, the more you talked, the more you whined and complained about what happened to you, the more I realized that you were too into your own success to work on a team. Oh, sure, you and Colt Montana did well as the Deadbeats, but that team was always about you first. When you lost the ladder match, you flat out disappeared for months. If the TEAM meant anything to you, you'd have stayed and worked through the adversity. At the least, you could have been a man and told Colt to his face that you wanted to go a different direction. Instead, you abandoned him and took off like a goddamn coward. Speaking from even my limited experience the Deathwish Cage would have eaten a coward like you alive. Could you have climbed over barbed wire for a cause greater than yourself? Would you have bothered coming back from a concussion, suffered earlier that night, for any reason other than personal gain?
[He shakes his head.]
JOC: I know you don't think much of me. Hell, you probably never thought much of me. You're about flash and style, I'm about quiet substance. We couldn't be less alike as competitors, but I thought at least we shared a common decency as people. I respected you for doing the right thing. Ever since Iconoclasm, though, you've proven you can't even handle that.
[A small smirk.]
JOC: You know, the funny thing is that it all traces back to when Scott Starring impersonated you in the Deathwish cage. You two, at the end of the day, are a lot alike. You're both talented. You both wear masks. You both feel like you're entitled to bitch and moan because things didn't go how you wanted, and you both are content with being nothing more than Steve Greedy's attack dog. The main difference that I can see is that Starring displayed his inferiority complex with gusto, while you hide from yours by overcompensating to the n-th degree with gimmicky special effects.
[The camera zooms in.]
JOC: Some of us don't need ridiculous back stories to make our mark. Some of us are confident enough in who we are to come to every fight as we are. Boring? Maybe. Effective? Hell yes. And as for your choice in friends and in career path? You might want to look around for Starring, who made many of the same choices you did. He's not here anymore.
[The smirk drops.]
JOC: You're a symbol to me, Spook. You represent wrestlers who prefer style over substance, flash over talent. You represent everyone who's attacked me from behind, or with a weapon...or in your case both. Come Ascension, I'll be standing right in front of you. And when I kick your ass, it won't be CGI. It won't be as the "alive kid" or the "zombie killer" or anything hackneyed like that. It will be MY way, on MY terms. In a straight up fight, you have no chance...and you know it. You know I don't have the gimmick, but I know you don't have...
...THE CUNNING!
[Fade out.]
____________
Spooky Doom
____________
[We preface this video with another video; specifically, a recap of the aftermath to the battle between James O'Connor and Shayne Grissom from last Ascension. We're shown the beatdown by GVZ, Spooky Doom running in for the save, the ensuing betrayal from the Doomster to the fans and the accusations of "sellout" by the announcers as the Grim Avenger silently walks away with Steve Greedy...]
[This leads us to a cordial interview segment between Spooky Doom and Mandy Appleton, live in front of a studio audience. In fact, we could very well be fooled into thinking that this was an old recording from Spooky's time before Charity Carnage if not for the crowd of booing fans hurling insults at the Deadkid. Spooky's taking all this in stride, quipping with Mandy unconcerned by the ever mounting hostility displayed against him. We join the interview already in progress...]
Doom: ... so it ends up that souls aren't really worth anything afterall! I mean, when was the last time you paid your electric bill in souls, huh?
Mandy: I thought you could shoot lightning bolts from your fingertips?
Doom: That's my uncle! Also, it just so happens that firing lightning bolts into an electrical socket simply results in burning the house down. Strange, but true.
[The laugh track doesn't pick up. The fans are still incensed at Spooky's actions and have attended this interview awaiting answers. Camera pans towards the audience, picking up signs reading "WHY SPOOKY WHY" or "SPOOKY SELL-OUT", all while Spooky Doom relaxes in front of the camera. He's completely guiltless, utterly at ease which frustrates Mandy into action.]
Mandy: Spooky, if we could cut the small talk for a second, I'm sure we have more important topics to discuss... like your selling out to Steve Greedy!!
[The crowd responds as one, booing the Hell out of Spooky Doom as the Deadkid simply sits there laughing, which in no way helps the already volatile situation. And just appropriately enough, it's quite the bone-chilling laughter as well.]
Doom: Oooh, Mandy, Mandy, Mandy... Ooooh, Mandy! It's not *ALWAYS* about the money! Sure it's important, especially in today's society where the amount you make pretty much determines your importance in the world, and make no mistake: Spooky Doom is *QUITE* the important luchador. Much more important than any other wrestler in SPW, *FAR* more important than James O'Connor-
[More boos, but Spooky Doom simply brushes them off.]
Doom: But you see Mandy, a great injustice has been done and it's up to the Spooky Doom to rectify it. More specifically, a great injustice has been done... *TO ME!!* When I entered SPW, I was coming in as a former world champion, top of my game, ready to disprove the doubters and the critics that I was the Grim Reaper-like thingy who would unite the wrestling world with his excellence! SWAT, Hardkore Japan, ICWF... and they turn me into a friggin' *TAG WRESTLER???* Are you ribbing me? The supreme iniquity was giving away my spot to those Team EGO dipsticks: I didn't just join forces with Steve Greedy for the money, I joined with Steve Greedy because he was the only one who could appreciate my talent for it's true worth... and that's still with me cutting the guy a huge rebate!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Doom: OH, SHUT UP!!! Lemme tell you, friendships didn't come easy in SPW where each and every wrestler is a self-righteous prick who would rather tear down the works of others than elevate the sport as a whole! I had opportunities denied left and right while the people doing so were cheered for their actions! I was denied my main event at Iconoclasm for crying out loud! It was unjust, it was unfair; well my attack wasn't just a message to James O'Connor but to everybody in the SPW locker room! If I can't main event Shootfire Pro Wrestling, *NO ONE CAN!!!* HA HA HA HA HA!!!
[Demonic laughter echos throughout the studio as a terrified Mandy Appleton scoots up her chair in fear of the terrifying menace that sits besides her. That is, until a thought suddenly occurs to her.]
Mandy: Wait a minute... Are you seriously telling me that you passed off a chance to attack Shayne Grissom for James O' Connor in your jealous rage? C'mon!
Doom: Meh, we all know Shayne ain't ever gonna amount to anything in life. Him and his stupid unnecessary "Y" in his name. "Look at me, I'm ShaYne Grissom, I have a Y in my name because Ys are cool but I'm also old school and hit people with the Sugar Shock, the only wrestling move that kills you through diabetes." ... Fffffffffffffffffffffff- him. Goddang he's got the worst taste in music ever, I mean, "Poor some sugar on me"? Look, I understand your music has to fit your gimmick, but for Christ's sakes, why the Holy Heck did you go with this candy coated bonbon BS in the first place and why the flyin' fudgecake are you using what is scientifically proven to be Def Leppard's worst baby-pandering song in it's whole entire discography??? IT'S NOT EVEN AMERICAN!!!!!! YOU'RE ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE, TWO YEARS OLDER THAN I AND YOU CAN'T FIND A BETTER SONG IN YOUR EFFIN' ERA???? WHAT THE HECK, MAN? WHAT THE HECK??? GET OUT OF YOUR MOTHER'S BASEMENT ALREADY AND EXPOSE YOURSELF TO SOME REAL SONGS FOR CRISSAKES!!!
[Spooky Doom tears his shirt off as Mandy simply throws her notes away.]
Doom: Look at me, you retarded man-baby with a raging hard-on for a time period you never even lived through!!! Do I look like I have an once of high fructose corn syrup in me? Because that is what you are, Sugar Shayne with a Y so as to be different from all the other Sygar Shanes in the business! I mean, choosing a gimmick shouldn't be complicated: skulls are cool, death is cool, Grim Reapers riding Harley Davidsons are hella cool, but unless you're aiming for 12 year old little girls there is absolutely NO ONE that's impressed or aroused by your friggin' CANDYLAND BULLSHIT and if you ARE going after 12 year olds then DO NOT color me surprised because I suspected as such all along, you pedophile scum of the earth traitor to America and American music!!!!
[Slow clap from Mandy as Spooky Doom is left shirtless, panting after his screaming oratory.]
Mandy: Got it out of your system already?
Doom, What I *MEANT* to say, Mandy Appleton, is that instead of asking me questions on the target of my brutal assault, you should be asking me questions... about me!!!! You know, the most sought after free-agent in pro-wrestling until Steve Greedy put a stop to that? Questions as in, how you doin' after all this down time, Spooky Doom? Did you keep on training after leaving SPW, Spooky Doom? Why yes, Mandy Appleton, I have been learning new techniques and keeping the general wrestling shape, as all those swooning ladies in the audience will readily attest!
[Camera pans towards the audience again, revealing Spooky Doom's falsehoods for what they are.]
Mandy: Meh, I prefer taller boyfriends myself.
Doom: OH, EVERYBODYS A CRITIC NOW, HUH???? Well I hope you like your boyfriends POOR, because that's all you'll ever have in guys like James O'Connor: guys that are POOR and IRISH! Well the Spooky Doom is neither poor nor Irish, he hasn't lost a step since leaving SPW and with the big money bringing me here, the brand new "Evil Dead" Spooky Doom is gonna show you moves that he learned in Japan, moves that he INNOVATED in Japan, moves that makes Spooky Doom the greatest talent in wrestling today and I can bench 450 pounds so I'm not the jealous one here, YOU ARE. YOU ALL ARE!!! ESPECIALLY YOU, JAMES O'CONNOR!!! I BET YOU CAN'T EVEN AFFORD A HAT, THAT'S HOW POOR AND IRISH YOU ARE!!!
Mandy: Sweet! What kinda moves???
Doom: As if I'd ever reveal them to you, as if if I'd ever reveal them to James O'Connor!!! LIVE, Wednesday night at the Vestenfallen-
Mandy: Pronounce it in three words if it's complicated. West-fallen-stadion-
Doom: At the Westfallen Stadium in Dortmund Germany!!! There, the "Evil Dead" Spooky Doom destroys this poor excuse for a contender in James O'Connor, shows you wrestling skills the likes of which you have no right to ever expect from SPW and starts a new trail of death that only ends in more souls for the EVIL DEAD! And there will be NO devil horns, NO air guitars, NO rocking out, not to American music, not to British faux-rock, ESPECIALLY NO RAMMSTEIN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, nothing but the Hell's Guillotine coming down hard on James O'Connor's neck and proving MY, Spooky Doom's, me, the Evil Dead's superiority over *EVERYBODY!!!!* HA HA HA HA!!!
[Spooky Doom rises up triumphantly, greeting the cheers that are rightfully reserved for a Grim Reaper undead-like being such as him... but receiving naught but boos instead. This does not deter Spooky Doom in the least. Standing, he delivers his address to all listeners.]
Doom: Wednesday night, at the Westfallen Stadium-
Mandy: WESTFALENSTADION!
Doom: SOMEWHERE IN GERMANY!!! The Evil Dead makes his Ascension debut, beginning his ascension in SPW! Ambition is fulfilled through the ashes of one's enemies; to you James O'Connor, your fate comes on the back of three of the most terrifying words to plague humanity: JIGOKU NO DANTODAI!!! The Hell's Guillotine...
[He lets those last words linger in the air, foreboding with their inherent menace as the crowd eventually drowns him out with their jeers. Spooky leaves the studio as we fade out...]
________________
“Jester” Chad Allen
________________
[We open to an alleyway somewhere in Anytown, USA. This alley is definitely not in the "nice" part of town. Graffiti covers the old brick walls and the filthy, slime ridden garbage dumpsters. The back of the alley is a gray cement wall with some graffiti of its own. A single light shines down from one of the buildings that creates this alleyway, and casts a shadow on a single man sitting amongst the filth. The man wears a black hooded trench coat, black jeans, and black combat style boots....
Oh, and clown paint...can't miss the clown paint.
The Jester is here, and he wants to talk...
His head is down, his legs out in front of him, the rest of his body sort of dangles, like a toy that has been left sitting in a corner for too long. He does not look up to us right away as he speaks to us in a hushed tone.]
JCA: You all know what happens when you get a wild animal, trapped and alone, don't you? It kicks in a fight or flight reflex that is normal in ALL animals, including the human animal.
[And he looks up, showing the half on/half off face paint he has worn as of late.]
And that is where I have been left, trapped in a corner, all alone...
[Jester turns his head to the side, showing his human face to us, another rare glimpse into what almost could be the "normal" Chad Allen...]
JCA: My true love, Iris Galiver, has turned her back on me...
[He stops, almost choking on the words. He quickly turns his head to the painted side again, and his voice quickly clears up.]
JCA: My mentor, Vile Vince Viper, has up and left, never to be seen from again. Deathknell was never truly under my control, and my Children have left me embarrassed and ashamed, losing to a SINGLE WOMAN in front of the world.
[Jester looks straight to us now, his eyes light of angry fire.]
JCA: And the apologists can talk all they would like about the toughness of Marissa Monet, but ANYONE I have ever trained, and taken in as members of my own Family should NEVER lose to a single person, woman or man. I give my knowledge to my followers so that they may learn to be tougher, meaner, and more violent than the normal person, but my Children are nothing more than a black mark on my career, so they shall be left to fend for themselves now.
[His last few words are almost spit out, his anger is palpable. He stops for a moment, collecting his thoughts, looking around the alley where he has left himself.]
JCA: And now I step into the ring, alone, angry and thirsting for blood, against 3 of the toughest opponents that I can step into the ring with, and the fight or flight response kicks in. And while Christian, Whisper, and Volga are stepping into the ring for simply a shot at the SPW World Heavyweight Title, I am stepping into the ring for THE FIGHT, as well as so much more than that...
[Again, turning to his "human" side for a moment]
JCA: I step in to show Iris that she has made the biggest mistake of her life abandoning me...
[Facing front]
JCA: I step in to show Vile Vince Viper that the years I spent listening to his psychotic ramblings have made a mark....
[And to the clown side.]
JCA: I step in to show Deathknell and the Children that they should fall to my feet as the one true God of Hardcore, for they owe EVERYTHING to me...
[Back to the front again, Jester gets to his feet, slowly stepping towards us after each word.]
JCA: I step in to show all of you that I am not your joke, not your punchline, no matter how much clown paint I wear...
[And now he is on our "face" a small smile crossing his lips, the trademark evil of the Wicked Clown of Wrestling]
JCA: I step into the ring this week to show you all that I am THE Ultraviolent force to be reckoned with. I step into the ring to show that even against your "Born Champion" or your "Heartless One" or your "Masked Mystery" that 2010 is STILL the year that I stand atop a mountain of my victims, a bloody pile reaching as high as the sky, as your WORLD CHAMPION.
[Jester starts to chuckle, which slowly turns into that trademark evil laughter that still haunts many people's nightmares. He starts laughing so hard for a moment that tears run down his cheeks, but then he suddenly just....
STOPS...
And stares...
staring....
not moving a muscle....
as if he is waiting for us to flinch....
after what seems like an eternity, he smiles again, and returns to the sitting position he started in at the beginning.]
JCA: I am the "Jester" Chad Allen, The Wicked Clown, The Hardcore GOD, and soon to be your World Champion, and I ALWAYS have THE LAST LAUGH.
[Fade to black.]
_______
Whisper
_______
*Slam!* [The door behind Whisper slammed shut, the masked man however appeared in street clothes for a change. Basic blue jeans and a long sleeves white shirt, his hands tucked into his pockets while he walked down the hallway.] *SLAM! SLAM!*[Simultaneously two doors were slammed closed as he walked past them down the hall, the camera continued to slide backwards while the unlikely main eventer spoke up.]Whisper: In my life, doors have been slammed shut, time and time again. [Stopping after a moment, Whisper looks forward at a door ahead of him and to the right.] Whisper: When I see a door open, and I move towards it... *SLAM!* [Stopping just short of getting pasted in the face, Whisper looks away. Turning around to see a door directly behind him, Whisper took a step towards it.] Whisper: It has a tendency to be slammed back in my face. *SLAM!* Whisper: And others are closed before I can even consider entering them. [Whisper turns around, turning his back to the camera and looking back down the hallway to where he came from. Walking back to the original door he walked through, he reached forward and began twisting the door knob, trying to wedge it back open. The door not budging an inch.] Whisper: Sometimes the doors I've past through, I can never return to...no matter how much I may want to. So my only choice... [Looking back down the hallway.]Whisper: Is to force myself to move on... [Walking forward towards the camera again, his pace much more determined than it was before. Passing the doors that were closed already, another set of doors slamming closed alongside of him. Whisper never looked away from the straight ahead.]Whisper: Eddie Christian ran through door after door to become the Fusion and Tag Team Champion. *SLAM! SLAM!*
*SLAM! SLAM!* [His pace picking up to a run, the camera staying in front of him the Hallway showing door after door slamming shut as Whisper began sprinting past them.] Whisper: Chad Allen and his Family have a wide open door to Wrestlebowl, a doors they have thrown open time and time again... *SLAM! SLAM!* Whisper: Jakob Volga has kicked open every door that was ever in front of him... *SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!* [With the crack of wood again the door frame echoing in rapid succession, Whisper came to a sudden and abrupt halt.] Whisper: I have respect for the other 3 men that I'll be meeting on Conquest. But the respect that I have for them is limited by my desire to go onto Wrestlebowl and become the SPW World Champion. Because for every door that slams shut behind me....there's one door...that I have no choice but...[Reaching out past the camera...] *SLAM!* [Whisper slams the door shut on the camera, the wooden door now cutting off the world from the enigma.] Whisper: To slam shut on everyone else...[Carved crudely into the door read "...the future is unwritten...", the sceen fading to black._____________
Eddie Christian
_____________
[The Welsh National Memorial Park is situated in the heart of Alexandra Gardens.. The memorial is there as a celebration for those military members who's lost their lives during World Wars I and II. The memorial take form of a circular colonnade. At the center is a group of bronze statues arranged around a stone pylon. Around the base of the pylon lies three sculptures. A soldier, A sailor, and an airman. At the top of the pylon rests a winged angel with sword in hand. From behind the pylon walks Eddie Christian. He is dressed in turkish bath neon nylon hooded jacket over a shark colored LVTHN graphic t-shirt, white cargo shorts, and a pair of low top white Chuck Taylor converse. On his face is a pair of rimless oversized Aviator glasses. Hanging from his neck is Barry Baldwin's dog tags.. He grabs on to them as he reads the scriptures to himself. The Fusion championship is resting around his left shoulder, he holds on to the curve of the belt with his left hand. With a trembling sigh..]
Eddie: "Remember here in peace those who in tumult of war. By sea, on land, in air, for us and for our victory endureth unto death." [After reading the scripture out loud, he closes his eyes for a bit once again grabbing his dog tags.]Eddie: "A good soldier has been injured in the midst of war. Barry Baldwin, we had a good match my friend, and I really wish you the best and godspeed in your recovery. And in your loss, we also lost another. The ever-so-aging Vile "Vince" Viper finally decided to hang up his boots as well. And while everyone is sitting around in shock and awe... the prophecy I proposed is slowly coming to fruition. We are ousting the old, and creating new stars. We are in the midst of a change... a new world order is among the horizon.. and as Fusion champion, I am leading the charge. I've heard the rumblings in the back.. VVV's days are done. The Age of Davis is all fizzed out, and irrelevant. They are not the word of mouth anymore.. check your internet wrestling pages. People are talking about the Eddie Christians, The James O'Connors, The "Sugar" Shayne Grissoms. WE are the change that SPW needs. Not Volga, not Whisper, and definitely not some stalker ass clown who's only obsession is a woman who thought she was a child. [His lips form a smirk.]Eddie: "I'm a personal believer of the phrase 'as one door closes, another one opens'.. and I believe that is the circumstance that we're all faced with in this match, because without Viper's sudden retirement.. a World title match for one of us at Wrestlebowl would be non-existant. And truthfully I am looking forward to taking that open slot. Yes, I've read the comments... I've read how people question my heart.. can Eddie wrestle in 3 title matches in on the same event? They think that I'm trying to put all my eggs in one basket. But honestly? I'm not worried.. I am ready physically and mentally to do so. I'm ready to prove to everyone in the whole world that Eddie Christian is one of the greatest competitors today. So the question isn't can Eddie Christian handle this four-way match.. the question is can Volga, Whisper, or Chad Allen stop the storm, the commodity, the hot streak that I have formed for myself?"[His eyebrows raise in question.]Eddie: "Every man in this match has a story to be told, each one of us has a want for that vacant SPW World title. But I'm willing to kick, scratch, and claw in order to crush the other three's aspirations. And of the four of us, I'm probably the one with the least amount of years as a professional wrestler, but that's a mountain that I have proven that I can overcome time and time again. And this match is just a small step in right dire ction to get across my point...[He removes his sunglasses.]
Either pass the torch, and have it forced from you. You have a choice... for now. Because pretty soon, you won't have that option."[He puts his sunglasses back on his face.]Eddie: "The so-called main event scene hasn't been compelling as of late. But all that is about to change. We're taking baby steps, but a war is brewing. It's time for a revolt. I've said it before.. in with the new and out with the old. Everyday a star is born.. Whisper, Allen, Jakob.. I'm sorry, but it is MY time to shine."[Eddie nods, as he exits the scene.]
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