This was my RP that I was working on for the Lethal Lottery for the Eurasian title match. I thought I would post it for those that wanted to see it.
Desire was truly the harbinger of impatience; and waiting on important news that could alter and twist the future wasn’t an easy thing to do. For Celeste Crimson this particular information could buy her much needed ground in the battle against her enemies.
The barrier defined as kayfabe which drew the battle lines each and every week had somehow been breached; the war that was her workplace had transcended itself into a reality that it was never supposed to bend, and this information would show just how far chaos had managed to penetrate itself into her life.
‘Perhaps maybe it is my paranoia playing tricks on me; but then again this feeling of dread just won’t go away… I have to know…’
The voluptuous blonde beauty sits in isolated booth in the corner of a small bistro; she idly twirls her thumbs waiting for her guest to arrive with the information that she so desperately desired. A few days ago she had been attacked in a parking lot by a pair of thugs after changing the spare tire on her rented car. She had initially dismissed the attack as an attempted mugging until she discovered that a tracking device had been planted underneath the carriage.
‘I had my suspicions; that’s why I didn’t go to the police. They would have written the attack off as a simple mugging.’
Of course Vance Bateman was notified of the attack; but he was assured that the attack had been a mugging and nothing else. Many of the other superstars reached out with condolences, but there was one person in particular who managed to convince her that the attack had indeed been orchestrated by someone else.
‘That was the reason why I chose to go to Annabelle for help; if there was anyone who could help me figure this all out without making waves it was going to be her.’
Celeste looks up from the table at the sound of her name, as her guest makes her way to the back of the restaurant to join her at the small table. Annabelle Romanovich was her cousin on her uncle’s side of the family. She was a tall, slender woman in her early forties whose dark hair and skin tone flaunted her mixed Russian and Mexican heritages.
The reason why Celeste had chosen to come to her cousin with this problem was because of her area of expertise; Annabelle was a senior field agent with the CIA specializing in domestic outsourcing, covert opts investigation, and espionage.
“Thank you for meeting me on such short notice,” Celeste responds.
Annabelle sits and pulls out a manila folder from her briefcase, and plucks a lengthy multipage report from its innards. She hands the report over to her younger cousin who begins to thumb through it with a lost look on her face. Celeste looks at the technical jargon like she was trying to read a foreign language.
“I did some digging around like you asked me to and I’ve got to say I found some interesting details,” Annabelle starts.
“…I thought we were going to keep this subtle,” Celeste says completely aghast at the size of the report she was holding. “You call this monstrosity being subtle?”
“… I merely did what you asked me to do; I found the one’s responsible for the attack. Your instincts were right, this wasn’t some simple mugging.”
Celeste quickly realizes that large portions of the report had been blacked out and some others were highlighted and circled, “Err, what is all this?” She asks, flipping the pages over.
“Financial records. Apparently the two thugs that attacked you were hired by a woman named Arianna, apparently to take you out. I also found the model of the tracking devise registered in her name purchased through a line of credit that has since been erased.”
Celeste shakes her head, that name wasn’t ringing any bells whatsoever…
“…upon further investigation I found that this woman Arianna has close ties to a man named Ty Burna.”
Celeste’s eyes went wide, “R-really!?”
She stops herself short and quickly lowers her voice to a whisper, “How did you find this information?”
Annabelle leans back against her chair and folds her arms, “That information is classified. All I can tell you is that Ty Burna’s file is relatively clean aside of some petty crimes he committed in his youth. There is no legal action that be taken against him at this point…”
Suddenly her disposition grows colder as her tone becomes more serious, “However I did find something most unsettling…”
Celeste folds the report and sets it back down on the table, “Oh?”
“Apparently Ty Burna has a man named Ian Crawford employed within his services as a financial advisor; however, Crawford apparently has a large network of contacts which includes several top lawyers and congressmen. If Mr. Burna ever found himself to be in any sort of legal issues there is a good chance that the man would come out unscathed.”
Celeste was dumbfounded; Ty Burna not only had lots of money being half owner of WZCW, but apparently he had real legal muscle as well. Did this mean that he could force Vance Bateman to sign over the rest of the company by putting legal pressure on him? If so this was a very bad predicament to be in; what could this possibly mean for the rest of the superstars in the company? If this were true then Burna really could succeed in plunging WZCW into darkness…
“I-I…” Celeste stumbles, trying to articulate what she was thinking, but her thoughts were moving at a million miles per second in a near infinite amount of directions. Annabelle smiles gently and places the report back into the manila folder.
“I am glad you came to me with this problem little cousin, do not worry; I will keep an eye on Ty Burna and his associates. If he tries to unjustly manipulate the legal system in the future I will notify you.”
“Thank you Annabelle. This is a lot for me to absorb right now… I-I don’t…” her voice suddenly trails off into uncertainty. She buries her face into her hands and lays her face onto the table.
“I understand. Please contact me if you need anything else. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to the office.”
Annabelle stands and takes her leave, as Celeste begins to ponder her next move. She takes out her phone and quickly dials a number. The phone rings twice before the voice of female secretary answers on the other end.
“Hello, this is Celeste Crimson. Tell Vance Bateman I need to speak with him immediately. It is urgent...”
Two days later Celeste stands in front of WZCW’s main headquarters. She was forced to catch the last flight out of Washington, DC the night before; traveling nonstop for the past several hours. She was exhausted, and was hoping to spend the last few days with her family in Sacramento before the Lottery.
She steps through the giant revolving glass doors and inside the lobby of the main executive offices. Bateman’s secretary offers her a seat, which she begrudgingly accepts. Moments later, the secretary waves her inside. She stands and makes her way over to Bateman’s office. Unsurprisingly the GM’s office was quite lavish; he had a large mahogany desk with a pristine black leather desk chair to match. Bateman stands, shakes her hand and offers her the guest chair; an equally exquisite piece of furniture in matching black decor.
“What can I do for you Mrs. Crimson?” he asks.
Bateman rarely accepted meetings that weren’t pre approved, but the woman had been very persuasive in her demands; in the end he had caved.
“I want to talk about Ty Burna…”
Bateman groans; it just seems as though everyone wanted a piece of the new Meltdown GM recently.
“What about him?” he asks half dismissively as he leans back against his chair.
“I recently came across some disturbing information involving certain contacts of Burna’s, are you aware of the regality surrounding his real life legal team?”
Bateman looks slightly taken aback; it wasn’t exactly common knowledge that the Meltdown GM had quite the illustrious legal team, but Bateman was well aware of the damage they could do. He had his own team of lawyers assembled just in case Burna tried anything.
“I am not really sure how you discovered such information; but yes, I am aware that Mr. Ty Burna possesses quite formidable contacts in the legal department.”
“Wait a second,” Celeste responds with surprise. “If you knew about that then why wasn’t I and the rest of the roster informed? Didn’t you think that was important information?”
“Now hold on, the Meltdown GM storyline was strictly business between Mr. Burna and I and the corporate affiliates; it was only supposed to be a publicity stunt. I realized too little to late what Burna’s true objectives were, but I have taken measures to prevent the situation from spiraling out of control.”
Celeste is taken aback by Bateman’s explanation; Ty Burna as the Meltdown GM was only supposed to be a publicity stunt? Then what were his true objectives? And then the answer soon dawned on her… Ty had used his connections to wrestle authority away from Chuck Myles and was now a legitimate owner of WZCW. Batemen watches as her face contorts as the truth finally begins to sink in…
“Then none of this was kayfabe? Ty Burna is actually a legit owner of the company?”
Batemen remains silent; his refusal to acknowledge her questions all but confirmes the worst for her.
“Why didn’t you tell any of us!?” She suddenly explodes, taking Bateman by surprise.
“The others and I thought this was all make-believe! Do you realize what will happen if Ty Burna legitimately becomes CEO of this company?”
“Calm down Mrs. Crimson! There’s no need to make a scene.”
“I-I-I hardly know where to begin with all of this!”
“Look,” he says staring her straight into the eyes, “I have the situation under control. There’s no need to cause unnecessary panic amongst the other talent. It is for the best if they and the rest of the fans continue to think that this angle with the Apostles is one big work.”
“But he was able to wrestle control away from Chuck Myles and buy his half of the company; what makes you so sure that you’ll be able to keep him from doing the same to you?”
“My legal team has been working for some time now to restore Mr. Myles back to his original role as Meltdown GM, which includes his half of the company. There isn’t anything to worry about.”
Celeste shakes her head, “I don’t believe you. I think you’re already beginning to lose your grip on the company, and I can prove it…”
“Last week when I was attacked by those two thugs, it wasn’t a mugging.”
“What are you talking about?” Bateman looks shocked.
“I’m saying that the attack was an organized attempt to take me out.”
Celeste reaches into her pocket and hands Bateman a folded copy of the financial reports which linked Ty Burna and the Apostles to the two attackers. Bateman seizes the piece of paper and eyes it carefully; his face quickly paling. Celeste watches the man with a hint of satisfaction in her eyes.
‘She’s not lying,’ Bateman thought as he looks over the information. ‘That damn Ty...’
“How did you get this information?”
“I am not about to reveal my sources to you Vance, but I have my contacts as well. In fact I have a contact here in WZCW who claims that Ty and the Apostles also wronged them as well. This contact was the one who convinced me to look into this matter further.”
Bateman hands the paper back to Celeste and leans back in his chair; the woman brought up a valid concern, could he keep Ty Burna in check in the future? He wasn’t so sure he could anymore. From both a real and kayfabe standpoint the man had tangible power that allowed him to operate above the rules and laws; was there any way to stop him at this point?
“At the Lethal Lottery I’m scheduled to face Chris KO and the elusive Black Dragon for the Eurasian title,” Celeste explains.
“I am confident that I can beat KO; I don’t think he stands a chance against me a second time around. I know it, he knows it, and I’m sure Ty knows it. I was initially wary of Dragon because he was a neutral party in all of this; he was pulled into our mess against his will and now it’s his title that’s up for grabs.”
Bateman shakes his head, “From what I understand Black Dragon has issues with Ty Burna as well, and you two aren’t the only ones. For weeks now I’ve had to deal with Gordito and Saxton regarding Burna, and I had to practically bribe Sabotaur in order to get him to trust me again.”
“What it sounds like to me is that there’s a bidding war going down. Even if we all unite to stop the Apostles, you’ll have to choose one of us to put Ty in his place, and there’s no one better suited to do that than me….”
Bateman remains silent as he just listens to the woman; what she said was probably true, that the other superstars would probably unite in order to stop the Apostles. But only one of them would get the privilege of knocking Ty off of his high horse.
“… Gordito, Saxton, and Sabotaur are all great men, but I feel that none of them are up to this task; I used to thrive on the power of chaos, and I know full well what it can do. And because I know it so well I know how to counter it. I can resist Ty’s darkness because I know where it comes from and I have the heart to reject it.”
The changes that she had undergone in the years she was away were drastic; she was no longer conceited, arrogant, angry, and power hungry. It was clear to Bateman that she now had a heart that was pure.
“And that brings me to Dragon. He’s so reclusive that it’s next to impossible to truly gauge what his true feelings are. I personally feel that he only has issues with Ty and the Apostles because they’ve interrupted the tiny void that is his world. If it weren’t for the fact that they’ve made him a clear target I doubt he would even care as long as he remained neutral. If Dragon were to lose his title, would that cause him to come out of his shell? If KO wins, then he’ll have a valid reason to hate the Apostles, but if I win, where does that leave him? Dragon strikes me as the type of guy who would be swayed by the powers of darkness and chaos if he saw he could obtain something greater if he embraced it.”
Bateman continues to listen; Celeste did have some great points.
“I plan on becoming a future champion so that I can become a role model for the fans and other superstars. I have two potential chances for championship gold at the Lottery, and I’ll be damned if I don’t win one of them.”
“Very well Celeste; it’s obvious that you are strung out on your convictions… I hope for your sake that you can win.”
‘I will win,’ Celeste thinks with determination. ‘If I can't then who’s going to be left to face the void of chaos? There isn’t anyone capable of doing this but me.’
My roleplay for LL, if anyone wanted to read it.
Alex Bowen and David Bowen are sitting at a nice small restaurant, a few people sit around them. Most of them have noticed the almost elephant like Bowen brother, David. Quick glances flow to the large man, following only with wide eyes. They all have noticed him, but only a few really took the time to look at the smaller man at the table. Alex Bowen, sits uncharacteristically, well uncharacteristic for Ohio winter weather. He is in in a small tank top and shorts. The man seated next to the giant, now sits anew. What was once a man with a small ponch, and almost no tone in his arms, is turning into something that a psychical trainer would be proud of. David requested this break in his training to talk to his brother. They have had a rather easy day today, Alex visited his psychiatrist Dr. Coons, and his regular doctor for a physical exam. David is slowly picking the items off the menu that he wants to buy the restaurant out of. His elbow rests on a few papers, numbers and names rule the top sheet.
David- We really railroaded that simpleton, didn't we Alex?
Alex- We? You did most of the work! Hell, I just sat there and told him what he wanted to hear. I figured I would walk out of there with ten different scripts of pills. He just shook my hand, and said wow. How do you know so much about psychology?
David- Bro, I did wrestling in school, and had no friends. What else do you think I did? Just set in my room, and pull it all day? Coons is nothing more than a worry wart, with a degree from a community college. He had no diagnosis for you in the first place, I could start the process in court for an unlawful suspension right now. Well, only if I really wanted to. That hack spent months, trying to undermine you! All on the basis of what your ex-wife said, and a few wrestling matches. All based on no substance, and a job that calls for gimmicks.
David throws down his menu, that he really hasn’t been looking through this whole time. He found his items before he started talking about Dr. Coons. Shaking his head at Alex who is deeply rooted in his menu. Snapping at his fingers at his brother to get his attention, Alex finally snaps back to life.
David- Did you even hear anything I said?
Alex- Yeah, something about suspensions, and that Coons was a quack. I already knew that, David. Did he give you the papers I needed?
David- Is grass green?
Alex- Depends, who are you buying it from?
David- Dumb ass... I told you in one visit I would melt his brain. He signed off on the papers, quicker than a teenage girl with a prom night baby.
Alex- Wow... really? You are really a heartless bastard. You know that right?
David- Who was telling people that I had a heart in the first place? It's there, but only for the right people.
A rather young and pregnant waitress walks up to the table that the Bowen’s are seated at. With a order pad in hand, she loudly smacks at a wad of pink bubble gum in her mouth. Before opening her mouth. David cracks a quick qwerp.
David- Well speak of the devil!
Waitress- Huh? We're you guys just talking about your orders?
Alex- Uhhhhhh. Yeah, you could say that.
Waitress- Well that's great, wha'da have today?
David- I'll just have two double bacon cheeseburgers, and a large order of fries.
The waitress points to Alex with her pen.
Alex- The same.
Waitress- Well that's good, I'll send it back. You'll have your food in a few minutes.
Alex waves the waitress away, she shakes her head and mumbles while looking at him. Bowen shrugs off the young girls parting remarks. He reaches in his pocket to grab for something, coming out with a cell phone, he checks his messages.
Alex- Hmmm, seems like James wants to join the party. He said he will be here in five minutes, and that was like five minutes ago.
David- So who is this guy? I know he trained you back in the day, but how does he know anything about submissions?
Alex- Are you kidding me? This guy is almost sixty, he went through the wringer in Mexico and Japan, when we were just kids. This guy could run any man out of Wzcw, and I'm glad to have him on my side.
David shrugs his shoulders
David- Dude, who knows more about being brutal and causing pain than you...
Alex looks up as the bell on the door chimes. An older man in a nice white suit walks in. Long hair, and a short beard, this is the famous shoot wrestler from Japan, James Takei. If you need to know the ropes, this is the man to see. James' list of wrestling titles, is longer than most hardened criminals wrap sheets. Alex found him a few years after he started wrestling, well found him is about as polite as you can put it. James almost ripped off his arm in a wrestling match. On his last legs in this business that we all love, James has tried over the years to foster Bowen's wrestling ability. Helping him along the way with mental toughness, and causing enough pain to make three men quit his training. Alex stands up, pointing to his old friend. James joins the table, and Bowen reaches over with a grin, patting him on the back.
Alex- This man, James come have a seat. David and I just started our chat about you. David here just asked who knows more about being brutal than me? Of course it's you!
James- It's not a matter of causing pain, or being as brutal as you can, Alex, I've always taught you that. I know you are tough, and I know what you can do. But for you, it is a matter of when something needs done, you do it. When someone needs to be taught a lesson, you do it the right way. There’s no wrong, you just move on from that point. I've saw what you've been doing. Showboating, being Mr. Spotlight.
Alex- Spotlight?! They didn't give me the respect I deserve! Are you still on my side, James?
James- Of course, for ever. But, you've always had that strange mentality. If you died, you wanted to know that your enemy died a more painful death than you. What you've done in the ring isn't something to be praised. It's the work of a sick man, I will teach you the ways. Once again...
Alex- Once again? I'm doing what you said years ago. I'm going in for the gold, reaching for the top. That is what it's all about, David got in contact with Wzcw, and I'm back in, baby. I find out what number I am in the Lethal Lottery, when I get there. David has my back.
James points to Alex's brother, with a confused look on his face.
James- This is what you want for a manager? Why not me?
David- People never change, what, do you think I'm not smart enough to manage Alex? Let me tell you this, I might be huge, but I have more brains than you think. I'm not just hired muscle. I'm getting Alex back into the company, He's in the Lethal Lottery because of me.
David presses a giant sausage like finger into his chest.
David- Yes, we want your help. But, I need you to turn him into a machine. I know, just like you do, what my brother can do in that ring. I'm more than sure of his ability to win this match. This isn't the barbed wire eating freak of old. Alex has been working his ass off for two months to get to this point. I need you to get him above that level. Put him on a level that no one can compete with.
Alex puts his hand on his brothers shoulder, pressing down lightly. He shakes his head up and down, liking the conversation that is being had. But breaking the tension at the table, as David is starting to get red faced.
James- Good idea, you are smarter than what I thought. Alex, needs someone in his corner. Like you, I to have been watching the shows as of late. The whole roster is scared, grouping up like cattle to the slaughter. With everyone doing that, one man just can't survive anymore. I can't change what has happened in these past few months, but Alex, with David and I, you will survive. Together we will bring it all down, with my training, the evil of Wzcw will be beneath you. No more showboating, no more bull crap. Put your past, in the past. Do what I have taught you to do.
Alex- I thought I was doing that pretty well...
James leans in, and snaps at Alex.
James- Well you were not. I told you, years ago when I started training you, to do what you needed to do. That is what you have to do to win this Lethal lottery. What did you do last year? Help a pile of crap, and what did you get for it?
Alex- Well I did almost toss out Everest.
James- Nothing! You got tossed out on your ass, you were out of it before it really even begun. You might have won that title, but you did it as an arrogant prick. I enjoy hardcore matches, I like to watch them, and participate in them. But the only part of being hardcore that you need to use for this, is your inner strength. Don't get caught in the lights. You have a chance to go to the top, with one match. But only after eliminating how many men?
Alex looks over at David, and raises his eyebrow.
James- Exactly, that is what I'm talking about, Alexander.
Alex cringes at the use of his full name.
Alex- What are you, my mother now? Alexander? Really?
James grabs the silverware from in front of David. Looking at the eating implements, and testing them in his hand. Without looking at Alex, and in one quick motion, he slaps the former mayhem champ above his nose. Alex tries to block the attack, but his reflexes kick in far to short.
James- Maybe that will teach you to stay on topic when you talk to me. Thirty men, Alex. Thirty... You have to overcome the odds, not to mention if you get the same number as last year, you will be at a severe disadvantage.
Alex- If I didn't have to worry about that partner of my mine, Cory, I was going to win it. I know I can do it this year.
James- Maybe, but don't make excuses for your past. I never did, I'm happy with what I've accomplished in this business. But I know it eats at you, I know you have the talent. That is what you need to showcase here. No weapons, no crap, you take care of business, and when that ref raises your hand in victory... That is when you turn on the showboat.
Alex- Alright, that is what I'll do then. I have the element of surprise anyways. No one knows I'm going into the lottery this year. They all know I'm training, but if I come back, everyone will probably think it will be to face Justin Cooper.
David clears his throat, trying to get his brothers attention. He slides over a small paper off the top of his stack to his brother. Alex looks at the paper as his brother talks.
David- You might be facing Justin Cooper, and you've already beat a few of them. Skinner, Cooper, Saxton, to name a few. But a lot of the people in here, are big fish.
Alex- A woman!? She's back? Celeste is back? Jesus Christ...
David- She is the least of your worry. All of the Apostles will be in that match, along with the Sons. You have a lot of people working together to screw you over. No one will be your friend in that mach, but me. I will make sure I am out there. We are the wild cards, I'm not in the match with you. But I will do my best to keep you in it.
James- And that is exactly the kind of mindset he needs to have. He needs to have your back, so you can have a clear frame of mind. You don't have to worry about him. He is doing that so you can get it done in the ring. I know you can do that. I haven't gone toe to toe with you in a while, but I know what I've seen in you. The fire in your eyes, and I'm seeing that once again. You look great, in top form. You can lose more weight, but it will be the mindset you have, that will win matches for you.
The waitress that came by earlier, finally brings out the meals the Bowen brothers ordered. Cutting James' long winded speech a bit to short. He quickly snaps at the waitress.
James- Box it up, they don't need to be distracted right now.
The waitress picks up the food that she just put down, with a roll of her eyes, she walks back to the kitchen.
James- Back to the point of what I was saying, Alex you have a great thing going here. Pick and choose your spots, you have nothing but time in this match. If you get distracted, that will be when you get eliminated.
Alex- Exactly, that is what I have been thinking about this whole time. They will all be first in line to get thrown out, first in line to nothing at Lethal lottery. But I will be last in line to catch a glimpse of the shrine. The top of the mountain in this company. After Lethal Lottery, it will be irrefutable, indisputable, infallible, impossible to deny, that I will be back.
James- Great mind set. Everyone has their own agenda in this match. Keep to yours and no one will beat you.
Alex- I am worried about the people in this match, I'm not gonna lie James.
James- It would be stupid to not worry, Alex. Just do what you know, show them what pure unleashed aggression can do. All of the people that laughed at you when you lost your title, all of the people that laughed at you when you weren’t winning matches, show them. Half of the people in this match are in that crowd, unleash hell. Make them suffer, and get the job done.
Alex- I will...
James looks at his new trainee, and with a smile on his face, he pats Alex on the shoulder. Pushing his chair back from the table, he gets up. Bowen follows suit, and give his old friend a hardy handshake. Looking in his eyes, Bowen shakes his head at the former multi-time world champ.
James- You will do just fine.
James turns from his friend, and starts to leave. The nasty waitress comes walking out with a few boxes in her hand. Putting it down on the table, she flips over her ticket book.
Waitress- That will be...
Alex reaches down to the boxes, and flips them over on the waitress' feet. The contents spill all over her shoes. She starts to get red faced.
Alex- To hell with you, I could hear you spitting on everything in the back. I'm not paying a dime for that garbage.
The Bowen brothers, in turn, follow James' lead. Before they reach the door, Alex, throws up his arm. A middle finger is raised high on his hand
I canít believe anyone expected anything different. A guy who wasnít that good leaves, comes back, and still isnít that good. Heíll end up leaving on his own or lose his way to being fired.
I guess youíre right. He shouldíve just left us with the memories.
The voices of the two janitors bounce down the hall from where their silhouettes stand. It is nearly midnight, and the clean-up from WZCWís Lethal Lottery event is nearly complete.
I know Iím right. Look at who else came back that same week. Drake Callahan: Good when he left and looks like he hasnít lost a stumble. Celeste Crimson: Eh, weird shit has always happened to her, so weíre all good there. Wasabi Toyota: New attitude, still a monster. Then we have Phoenix. Left as a tag team wrestler who couldnít cut it on his own, and has come back as a returning wrestler who canít cut it on his own.
Jesus, Mike, did the guy talk bad about your mother or something? I get you donít like him, but take it easy.
I donít like seeing people in positions they donít deserve. And what I see, Brent, is a guy who isnít wrestling at a level deserving of being in the best company in the world. He can take his redemption bullshit and go back to China or wherever the fuck he was.
Brent rolls his eyes as he gathers up his equipment to leave for the night. He is about to walk away, but stops as a room catches his eye.
Hey, that room still has a light on. Is there anyone in there?
You can head home, Iíll check it out and lock up. See ya later, Brent.
Brent and his equipment rattle their way down the hall, around the corner, and, eventually, out of earshot. Meanwhile, Mike makes sure his gear is in order and peeks into the room. Sitting alone on a bench is a man with a gym bag on the floor next to him.
ĎScuse me, weíre about to lock up. Sorry, but Iím gonna need you to leave.
The man remains motionless, so Mike tries again, a bit louder this time.
Itís time to leave, weíre locking up.
Still no reaction. Mike is now yelling.
I said you have to go! Canít you hear me?
Iíve heard you loud and clear.
The man speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Then why arenít you listening?
Iíve been listening to every word you said. Youíre a smart man, Mike, was it? Youíve got it all figured out.
What the hell are you talking about?
I heard what you said in the hall. I listened to every word. See, Mike, I did what you asked. And you are right.
Right about what?
Me. I came back, thinking, hoping things would be different, but they havenít been. I put up a fight, but I canít seem to win matches. Something has to change. Something is going to change.
Phoenix snaps his fingers and the light goes out. A ball of fire appears where he was standing, and when the lights come back on, he is nowhere to be found.
Click for Spoiler:
Click for Spoiler:
"The end only marks the beginning."
Chris K.O. is sitting on a stool with several lights shining on him. He is dressed in his normal red leather jacket and white undershirt with blue faded jeans underneath. He is in front of a charcoal grey back drop as he gives a calm smirk.
Chris: Throughout your life there are moments that define who you are. Everything from your first word, to when you first masturbate, to when you first kiss a girl, or to when you first drive a car. These moments are like revelations. We learn something from those experiences that we did not know before hand. For me the two biggest moments that I can remember are when I first discovered my love for wrestling and when my mom died. Those two things became like sacred texts to me. There were apart of my identity and I took them and deciphered them. I grew from them. I am a firm believer in that any growth is good. Because growth means that you are not dead.
The shot transitions and we see Chris sitting inside of a large theatre room. He is alone in his area as several other men and women fill patches of seats inside of the auditorium. A man is on stage as he flicks through a power point on a large projector screen. He speaks skillfully to the audience as the majority listens enthusiastically. Chrisí gives a small laugh as he dubs over the scene.
Chris: So here I am, sitting inside of an auditorium, only two days before the Lethal Lottery. Listening to a guy who is way smarter than I am; I cannot even comprehend half the words that he is saying. You are probably wondering how I got here.
A dreamy filter covers the current scene and it transitions out of it.
We come back to a shot of Chris inside of the interview room.
Chris: So, here I am. Listening to this guy and wondering why I even came to the event. You see, I never thought in a million years that I would have one of those divine experiences that I was talking about. But suddenly I began to listen more carefully.
The scene transitions back to the auditorium scene and the man, Doctor L.M. Harris is standing center stage.
Harris: Chaos has long been associated as the opposite of order. It is the idea of destruction and despair. What if I told you that recent studies have pushed us to rethink how the Chaos Theory works? What if I told that perhaps chaos may be what very well brings order?
Everyone in the audience perks up, and several of them pull out their notebooks and pens. Chris joins this action and sits up in his seat.
Harris: In the times when thing seem most uncertain, the truth is revealed. What is right is uncovered.
Harris looks out at the young scholars and begins pacing on the stage.
Harris: For example, let us say that a conflict occurs within a family. An argument escalates and things seem chaotic. In this moment, truth is revealed and order is reestablished through the expression of true emotions. Chaos is not finality.
Harris pauses and looks across the room. He meets eyes with Chris.
Harris: It is simply a trial. Thank you everyone.
Everyone in the auditorium stands to their feet and begins clapping for the doctor. He gives a wave of thanks and begins dissembling his technological devices. Chris pulls out the manila envelope from his pocket and looks at it with an absent stare. The scene transitions to a shot of Chris walking in a park. The sun is beginning to set and the sky is orange. He locates a black wooden bench along his path and decides to take a seat. The park is usually bustling with people, but on this particular evening Chris finds himself alone. He tosses the manila envelope across the bench and it rests to the right of him. Chrisí voice begins to dub over the shot.
Chris: The idea of chaos just being a trial plagued my mind as I walked through that park.
Chris buries his head into his hands as he sighs heavily.
Chris: Some people say that you really have to hit rock bottom in order to truly value your life. I do not know if I was at rock bottom, but I do know that I was amidst chaos. I had no peace in my mind or soul. I exhausted every outlet and smoked all that I could, but it was not enough.
Chris looks out from the side of his hands and eyeballs the manila envelope that is sitting on the bench.
Chris: There was nothing left. Nothing left that I could do. I tried to delay it for so long, but I knew it would eventually come to this.
Chris reaches for the manila envelope and pulls it in front of himself. He begins to tear open the sticky seem. He raises his right hand to his mouth and breathes into it. This is it, he thought. He opened up the manila envelope and pulled out the contents from within. He tossed the skin aside and began examining the enclosed document.
I know that you are busy with your schedule on the road, but I hope that you get this letter. I am very concerned for your father and I fear that it may be worsening. His drinking amount has risen over the last few months to the point of an unsafe drunkard. He speaks of suicide when we have phone conversations and laments the idea of being unable to communicate with his son. All of this has affected his work performance and he has been given several citations for showing up under the influence. The oil rig does not want to fire him, but they cannot allow him to keep showing up this way. I fear as though he will drink himself to death soon if something does not change. Please contact me back as soon as you can. I enclosed my contact information incase you forgot.
Chris: I could not believe it. I had this letter for over a month. I thought surely he was dead by now.
Chris begins to breathe heavily as he jumps up from the bench and runs off camera. The camera transitions to a shot of him entering a phone booth. He looks at a paper that he took out of the manila envelope and inserts coins into the phone. He dials the number and waits for an answer.
Chris is at a lost for words.
Chris: Yes, hello. Aunt Mary this is Ch--- I mean Sam.
Mary: Honey, you need to come home right away.
A static sound muffles out the scene as Chris stares into the glass of the pay phone box as he listens to his aunt. The shot transitions to Chris inside of the interview room. He swallows as begins to softly speak.
Chris: She told me that I needed to come back to Oklahoma right away. She said that Dad went into work drunk. She said that his boss did not know and assigned him to a job that was operated on top of the rig.
Chris swallows again.
Chris: He had lost his balance and fell 85 feet. He was in the hospital with severe brain damage. The doctor said it would not be long until his brain stopped all together.
The shot transitions to a plane flying in the air as it parts the clouds around it.
Chris: I got on the first plane to Will Rogers Airport in OKC, and rushed myself to the hospital that he was at.
The scene shows Chris sitting in a blue-grey chair that is tucked in between several other chairs against the wall. The camera starts with a shot of his brown loafers that are placed softly on top mauve carpet that fills the room. The camera moves up and we see Chrisí faded blue jeans. The legs are wrinkled and show signs of them going unwashed for several weeks. We move up to the torso and see that he is wearing a white undershirt with his red leather jacket over it. Finally, we see his tired face. Clearly he has not slept in several days.
The room that he is in is decorated with several chairs that are similar to his, and end-tables with magazines and plants on top of them. Small flat-screen televisions hang from the top corners of the room as several of the roomís occupants take part in watching them. The room is strangely quiet next to the muffled TV noise and a clicking fan that circulates above them all. Chris voice begins to dub over.
Chris: They call it the waiting room. It felt like purgatory to me. I felt as though my sins had brought me here. I had only ever been inside of a hospital one other time and that was when I broke a rib my senior year of high school. The moment seemed absolutely meaningless in comparison with this one.
Chris suddenly perks up from his zombie like state as woman emerges from behind swinging double doors. Chris gets up from his seat and begins to speak.
Chris: Aunt Mary.
Mary raises her hand to caress Chrisí cheek.
Mary: You need to go in there and be strong Samuel. He loves you very much.
Chris did not know it, but he began to blush at the sound of those words. He appreciated what Mary had to say, but he needed more than that. He needed to hear it from him for himself. He reached up and grabbed Maryís hand and smiled as he lowered it. He walked past her and made his way into the double doors. Chrisí voice begins to dub over the scene again.
Chris: I cannot explain how long that walked seemed. The walls were grey and the floor and ceiling were white. The hallway seemed endless, and as I walked it was like a collage of film clips of my childhood began playing through my mind. I saw my father and me playing catch, going to museums, going to family events, and playing in our backyard. It was like I was preparing myself for the finale of our relationship.
Chris finally meets the end of the hall and turns to his right. After his turn, he notices several nurses and a lone doctor huddled around a door. They all notice Chris and disperse after a nod from the doctor.
Doctor: Are you Sam?
Chris: Yes. Are you his doctor?
Doctor: Yes. I am sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, son.
Chris examines the man before him and begins to relate to the same tiredness that is pressed upon the doctorís face.
Doctor: I do not want to hold you up because I know that time is precious, but you need to know something. His brain function ability has been deteriorating rapidly over the last few hours. He could go any minute. Because of this, he may not be all there when you speak to him. Make whatever you say to him valuable, son.
The doctor presses his hand firmly on Chrisí shoulder and walks off into the brilliant white of the hall. Chris looks down at the door handle and scrunches his eyes fiercely. He reaches out and grabs the handle and opens the door.
Chris: I did not know it then, but the opening of that door was symbolic of the moments the lye ahead. I looked inside of the small room. What a pitiful room to die inÖ Did my father not deserve better than this? Despite the room, there he wasÖ
The camera shows Jonathon Masters lying in the hospital bed, with his torso slightly raised. Three-fourths of his face is wrapped up in bandages as his disfigured face lights up from seeing Chris.
Jonathon: Sammy! What are you doing here? Did I miss your baseball game?
A small tear rolls down Chrisí right cheek as he steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. He wipes away the tear and cracks a small smirk over the silliness of the question.
Chris: No Dad. My baseball game was ten years ago.
Jonathon chuckles in response. Chris moves over to Jonathon and takes a seat next to his bed. He grabs his fatherís hand. Jonathon looks up at his son and smiles. His eyes begin to get misty as he speaks.
Jonathon: God, you are beautiful.
Chris laughs and then responds.
Chris: Dad, I look like shit.
Jonathon: If only your mother could have seen you grow up. She always said that you would grow up to be the most handsome man on the planet.
Jonathon laughs as Chris just admires him. The scene transitions back to Chris inside of the interview room.
Chris: There he was. The man who was my superhero. He is the man that I looked up to as I grew up. My father seemed invincible to me. If I knew anyone was going to always be there, it was going to be my father. But here he was, lying before me broken. What do you do when your superhero is dying right before your eyes? There must have been a thousand questions rushing through my mind, but there was only one that I truly needed. There was only one that I needed in order to suffice my soul.
The scene returns as Chris holds his fatherís hand up to his lips. He kisses it softly.
Chris: Dad, can I ask you question? Can you focus and be real with me for a small moment.
Jonathonís demeanor turns serious as he looks at his son.
Jonathon: Of course, son.
Chris: Are you proud of me? I mean I did not follow you into the oil fields and work under you, but are you still proud of me?
Jonathon smiles and reaches up to touch his sonís cheek.
Jonathon: I am sorry that I pushed you so hard to work in the oil fields. I just wanted you to be taken care of.
Chris: I forgive you Dad, but I need to hear you say it. Are you proud of me?
Tears began to roll down the single unwrapped eye on Jonathonís face.
Jonathon: Aunt Mary has the key to my house Sammy. I want you to go there after I---
Chris: Why are you talking like this?! Do you not have any hope in surviving this? Have you just accepted that you are going to die?
Jonathon closes his eyes as more tears roll down his face. Tears are also flowing down the face of Chris. The salt stings his lips.
Jonathon: I love you so much Sammy.
Chris has his face lowered as he responds to his sobbing father.
Chris: I love you too Dad.
Without warning, the sobbing slowly diminishes and the grip his father had on his hand departs. Chris looks up at his father as his eyes begin to tear up some more.
Chris: Dad? Wake up. Wake up! No! Damn it!
Chris releases his dadís hand and slams his fist against the wall and begins to sob.
Chris: Oh god, oh man. I wasnít ready for this! I wasnít expecting this damn it! Why? Damn it, why!
Chris presses his face against the wall and floods it with his streams of his own tears. The scene cuts back to Chris in the interview room.
Chris: Just like that, my father was gone. I am not a real religious man, but if there is a promise land of some sort, I would bet that my mother and father are there, reunited. He left me and I never got the concrete answer from his lips that I wanted, but I got it in another way.
The camera shows Chris entering a house and begins examining the house. He finds loads of merchandise and other media sources that have his name on it.
Chris: My Aunt Mary said that Dad had this idea that if he bought more of the stuff that WZCW had produced with my name on it, then that would somehow get me pushed into the main event.
Chris laughs to himself.
Chris: I could not help but smile as I found stockpiles of merchandise with my name on it. Everything from magazines to action figures. He even had dozens of unopened decks of WZCW trading cards. But he did it all for me. I began to think to myself that this was the answer that he wanted me to see in response to my question, and it was finalized whenever I opened up his living room closet.
The camera shows Chris flipping on a light inside of the closet. The illumination reveals dozens of black video tapes on the closet shelf. Each one has an individual piece of scotch tape with something written on it. He begins to examine the video tapes as his voice dubs over the shot.
Chris: Every single episode of WZCW was recorded by my father. Every single episode since my debut. He admired everything that I did in the WZCW. He admired every win and admired my courage after every lost. He was proud of me and he answered my question with his support of what I loved.
The camera begins showing shots of Chris watching different video tapes on the television inside of his dadís house. Chris voice continues to dubs over.
Chris: I went through and I watched every episode that he recorded. I examined every move and every strategy by every superstar. Everyone from Black Dragon to Celeste Crimson. I relived my greatest triumphs and my biggest downfalls. This was my training. I watched them until I fell asleep and then I woke up and caught a flight here.
The scene transitions back to the interview room. Chris perks up on the stool.
Chris: You asked me to come in here and share my story about my past week, and there it is. It was not filled with video montages of me hitting the gym or gathering reports on every other superstar in the Lethal Lottery Match. It was real and difficult. But now I have a clear mind and some closure in my life.
Chris gets up from the stool as he looks into the camera.
Chris: And between you and me, I have no intention of winning the EurAsian championship tonight, but you better believe that I will find my way into the Lethal Lottery!
Chris nods to someone off camera
Chris: We good?
He pulls off the microphone that is attached to the collar of his shirt. He winks at the camera and it goes black.
"Reason is not automatic. Those who deny it cannot be conquered by it." -Ayn Rand
A number of french news stations from 2004 until 2010 are flashed upon the screen, with english subtitles at the bottom for convenience.
(Bad news for art lovers today, as several pictures from The Lourve have been reported missing, including favorites such as Anthony van Dyck's The King at Hunt has been taken....)
(The Bank of France was in fact broken into last night, the top bank has been broken into and several million dollars have been reported missing...)
(More from the Lourve, one of the main attractions, the French Crown Jewels have all been snatched from the Lourve last night......)
(The police has apprehended a 14-year-old that is said to be behind a string of recent burglaries from the Lourve and The Bank of France from the past year has been apprehended....)
("We find the defendant, Mr. Perrot guilty"....)
(He has been sentenced to 5 years in Paris' own La Sante Prison...)
(Alexandre Perrot has been released from Prison, he gained notoriety back in 2004 to 2005 for a series of thefts.....)
(They say he's actually looking into getting into the professional wrestling world....)
The news stations fade out to rooftop atop of Paris, France at late night, where Le Gentleman Masque sits wearing his black backstage attire during a windy night in Paris
Gentleman Masque: Class....Elegance....Avant-garde.....Some will truly understand this and fight with honor.
Le Gentleman Masque sees a passing by white rose breezing in the wind
Ah, the white hybrid tea rose. Whether yellow, white, pink or red, they may look not very tough. But......when you look harder,
Le Gentleman Masque looks at the horns at the bottom
they have a fight in them to protect themselves and others like them. If only some could understand the struggle of a rose.
A smile comes across his face as he throws the rose back up into the windy air
But I have a few tactics to help if they can't.
He practices a bit of bobbing and weaving to himself in preparation for his debut match
Let those who run rampant on WZCW be given a fair warning. Striking and flying are my strong suits.
he pulls out one of his calling card, a small version of the mask wears
You will know when I strike, for I'm no coward. I live by title, the Masked Gentleman, and those who have a problem with me trying to help those who cannot defend themselves, can take it up with me, one-on-one.
Mister is sprinting across a long, open area littered with unusable cars and trash, Alhazred is gaining on him. Mister runs left and hops over another fence back to the street, Alhazred does the same. Mister runs across the street into an old cemetery. The grave stones are cracked and falling over, weeds and grass are taking them over. Alhazred follows him into the cemetery. It begins to rain and thunder.
Alhazred looks around the grave yard but sees no sign of his former manager. Suddenly a door to a sarcophagus closes, Alhazred sees it in the corner of his eye and runs towards it. The sarcophagus is a small marble structure, it's square and unmemorable save for the small statue of a three headed dog atop it. Alhazred slowly opens the door, it's pitch black inside. He searches in his pocket for a lighter, walking as he does. He fumbles in his pocket but manages to pull it out. He lights it, the only thing he sees is a fist coming towards his face.
Mister: You'll never find her.
Alhazred awakens a few minutes later to find himself in the middle of the graveyard outside of the sarcophagus, Fats is standing over him eating a donut. He gets to his feet and brushes himself off, he looks around for the three headed dog sarcophagus but cannot find it.
Alhazred: What happened to it?
Fats: To what?
Alhazred: The building I was in, it's gone. Things like that can't just disappear, it was a solid marble sarcophagus, there's no way they could have moved it.
Fats: What did it look like?
Alhazred: It had a statue with a three headed dog on it.
Fats: I don't see it man. That's trippy.
They walk back to the car, as they do Alhazred continues to look around the graveyard.
Alhazred throws the phone across the room and walks out. Fats is waiting for him outside the door.
Fats: You alright, man?
They walk through the hallways, towards the exit.
Fats: That was a great match, you almost had it.
Alhazred: So I've been told.
Fats: Well anyway, some guy came up to me and gave me a letter for you.
Alhazred: What did it say?
Fats: That you have a surprise, super secret match at Unscripted. It'll be you and Baller vs the New Church.
Alhazred stops walking.
Alhazred: Baller eh?
Alhazred turns around and heads back to the locker rooms. He heads into one and spots Baller in the back, getting ready to leave. Alhazred walks up to him.
Baller: What do you want?
Alhazred hands him the letter.
Baller: Great, stuck with a nerd like you.
Alhazred: Meet me at the basketball courts in the closest park to this building tomorrow at noon.
Baller: Why should I?
Alhazred: We need to build some chemistry if we hope to survive the New Church.
Alhazred leaves the locker room, Baller's eyes follow him as he leaves.
Alhazred and Fats are sitting on a bench in park. Alhazred is wearing black basketball shorts with a black Apostles of Chaos basketball jersey on, the number is 666 and the name on the back reads K.O.. Fats is in blue shorts and a blue t-shirt, he's eating a hot dog and staring at Alhazred.
Fats: Don't think he's coming. I got a gut feeling man, trust me whenever I have a gut feeling it's always right, no fail. This guy ain't coming.
Alhazred: He's right there.
Baller walks up to them wearing a purple and yellow basketball uniform. Alhazred stands up as does Fats.
Baller: So, what are we doing here? Don't tell me you're planning on playing some ball, no offense but you don't look like the type.
Alhazred hands him a flyer for a two man basketball tournament being held tonight.
Baller: Are you serious? You expect us to play in a basketball tournament when we don't even really like each other?
Alhazred: No, we're going to win the tournament. And you don't like me? I like you.
Baller: You do? Well I guess you're not that bad but still we barely know each other, most of the teams in the tournament have probably been practicing together for a long time. There's no way we can win, you just threw this at me out of nowhere.
Alhazred: Do those circumstances sound familiar? At Unscripted we're going against a team that is a true unit and have an unquestionable bond. They may be religious fanatics, you could even call them a cult, say what you want about them but they're a damn effective team. They've laid waste not only to the tag division but some of the roster as well. They are truly unified, a true tag team and test for the both of us. We may not know much about each other but we have more in common than we think. We've both been in this company for a long time and haven't achieved the success our skill would suggest we should have. We're wasted talent who gets thrown around by management when they remember we're still around. We've both had our ups and downs but when we are both at our best we have shown that we are two of the best in this company. I have no intentions of teaming with you after Unscripted, I have far too much going on in my own life to have to start worrying about another person. But much like this tournament today, I plan on giving the New Church something to be worried about. I'm sure when they heard the news they were excited to see who'd they be facing, alone, one on one, either of us would take either member down. But as a tag team, they have the full advantage and they know it. I'm sure much like they did to some of the rookies and other members of the roster their looking to use us as a sign of their power. But we won't let that happen will we Baller?
Baller shakes his head no confidently.
Alhazred: We're going to march into Unscripted not as foes and not as friends. We will walk through the curtains as a team because we both have so much to prove. We've strayed from our goals of success and glory and are on the verge of becoming lost in the shuffle. I will not let that happen. You will not let that happen. WE will not let that happen. We will crush the New Church and have them running back to their god, praying that the damage we have done to their bodies is not permanent. I've been in a bad mood since Ascension, I've had a lot of things happen in the last week and I've been holding it in, saving it for just the right moment. Right as you smash Mason's face into the canvas with Hit the Showers, I will unveil my new technique on good ole Derek Jacobs. His head and neck will be utterly annihilated when the White Van Driver crashes them into the canvas. I need this win Baller, you need this win Baller. We'll use this basketball tournament to build trust and timing. I've had my share of tag matches in the past, I know what it takes to win them. Lets kill them at Unscripted and lets win this tournament!
Fats screams at the top of his lungs in excitement. Alhazred knocks his hot dog out of his hand.
Alhazred: Shut up, minion, you killed the mood. Get back to the car and get us some basketballs. Now!
Fats runs towards the car.
A montage plays of Baller and Alhazred in the tournament. The first game they struggle at first, missing passes and yelling at one another but Baller hits a game winning three. The next game they get better but still have communication problems, Alhazred hits a free throw at the end to win it. The next two games they are both fully in sync and dominate their opponents, dunking on them and hitting shot after shot. Alhazred steals the ball from the opposing team and heads down court. He throws the ball at the backboard, it bounces off and Baller catches it and dunks it in.
Announcer: Here we are folks the final match. AlhazBall have truly come together as a team and have tied it up against Jordyant, Kobe Bryant and Michael Jordan. There's 5 seconds left in this game and the ball is in AlhazBall's court after that timeout.
Baller and Alhazred huddle up.
Baller: Alright man, this is it we can win this. I'm gonna inbound it you, when you catch it fake a shot and pass it to me. I'll hit the winning shot.
Alhazred: What? Fuck that, you're not getting the glory man.
Baller: I've carried this team the whole tournament, I deserve the last shot.
Alhazred: You did not carry the team, just because you're a former professional athlete does not mean you carried this team. I've held my own and our teamwork has carried this team. I want the final shot because of how much I improved.
Baller: I am a better player than you, you can at least admit that. Who has a better a chance at sinking the bucket realistically, me or you?
Alhazred: I guess you're right.
Baller: That's right I'm right, now let's do this!
Baller goes to the sidelines next to the ref and waits for the whistle, Bryan sticks his arms high in the air to block the pass. Alhazred moves continuously around the back court, trying to shake off Jordan. The ref blows the whistle and gives the ball to Baller. He passes it to Alhazred. Alhazred dribbles around, he goes to pass the ball to Baller who is wide open but decides to take the shot instead. Jordan blocks it and takes the ball down the opposite court and ducks it in for the win. Jordan and Bryant celebrate down the court as the fans surround them. Baller takes his shoe off and throws it at Alhazred as the scene fades to black.
Lesson of the Week: The end is always worth the means.
Brother Mason Westhoff has done a lot of preaching in his time. His words led many people to make positive changes in their lives. The post office in Texarkana, Arkansas is flooded with love letters addressed to Brother Westhoff, thanking him for what he has done for them. The city itself is on the map almost entirely due to Bridge to Salvation Church.
Those same words also brought Brother Westhoff quite a bit of hostility. Many accused him of blasphemy. Some that have family in his church consider Brother Westhoff to be a cult leader, brainwashing his followers.
Then, of course, there is WZCW.
We see Brother Mason Westhoff walking through an airport terminal, with his rolling suitcase handle in his right hand and his cell up to his left ear.
Yes, I just landed. I assume the driver had no trouble finding you? … Sounds good. See you shortly.
Brother Westhoff slides his phone into his pocket and continues walking right past the camera as the scene fades.
So, Mason Westhoff, eh? What brings you to WZCW?
Vance Bateman sits back in his chair after asking the question. The office is still pretty bare since he had just regained power after the reign of Ty Burna. He looks deeply at Brother Westhoff, almost as if he is trying to see inside of the man.
I am a devoted follower of The Almighty. I built a massive church and devoted following out of nothing. Now I believe it is The Almighty’s wish for me to use my physical blessings to dominate WZCW and spread His message to the masses.
Bateman’s face couldn’t hide his surprise. He had met with many potential WZCW superstars over the years and heard many different answers to that very question. Never before had he heard someone that so obviously had no love, passion, or craving for professional wrestling sit in front of him for a job.
So, let me get this straight. You give me an answer like that when I ask you what brings you to the best wrestling federation anywhere and still expect me to give you a job? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kick your ass out that door right now?
Brother Westhoff chuckles at the outburst from Bateman, which does nothing to lessen his anger.
I’m something this company has never seen before. I can tell just by how you reacted that you’ve never had someone talk to you like this in an interview. All I want, Mr. Bateman, is an opportunity to show how great The Almighty is by dominating in the ring and talking before an international audience. That’s all I ask.
Bateman readies a reply, but before he can, Brother Westhoff begins to speak once more.
Or, alternatively, you can kick me out and I can sue this company for religious discrimination. I’ve dealt with many people that believe they are much more important than they actually are, Mr. Bateman, and you are no different. Let me sign my contract and I’ll be on my way.
Brother Westhoff nods his head, a sly smile taking over his face.
Go wait in the hall. I’ll have your response in a couple minutes.
Brother Westhoff obliges, smile still glued to his face. Bateman begins to dial the phone as Brother Westhoff leaves the room. Soon after the door closes, screaming can be heard from within the office. Brother Westhoff bursts into full-on laughter, knowing that the decision about the contract is out of Bateman’s hands.
Brothers Westhoff and Jacobs sit comfortably in the back of a luxury automobile, a screen separating them from the lowly driver. The myriad of bright, flashing lights that litter Chicago at night are dimmed by the car’s tinted windows.
I’m quite glad you came up with the idea to meet out here, Brother Jacobs. You’ve spent a bunch of time down in Texarkana, but I haven’t properly reciprocated by spending time here in Chicago.
I appreciate that, Brother Westhoff. I understand that much of what plagued me in the past is here, but Chicago is my home and always will be.
Brother Westhoff stares out the windows of the car at all of those lights, occasionally blocked by a homeless person begging for money.
As much as I enjoy pleasantries, Brother Jacobs, it is time to get down to the business I flew here for us to take care of.
Just behind the entrance curtain at Meltdown 81, The New Church is understandably furious about the announcement made moments before by Meltdown GM Big Dave leaving Brothers Westhoff and Jacobs out of the tag title match at Unscripted, and more than likely, off the pay-per-view altogether. Both men are yelling at anyone and everyone that can hear them.
Get Dave back here, now!
We will not stand for this!
Big Dave comes through the curtain, and if not for the small mob of security that had gathered when all of the commotion started, would have been jumped by The New Church.
Hey, HEY! Strikeforce is getting the title shot. You guys will be on the show, just in a bonus match against Mr. Baller and Mister Alhazred. All of these decisions are final, so hanging out back here and trying to jump me aren’t going to do anything to help you. I suggest you go back and prepare for your match tonight.
Dave heads toward his office, with security forming a wall between him and The New Church. Brothers Westhoff and Jacobs put their hands up and back off, but Brother Westhoff yells a final warning as the scene fades.
There will be consequences, Dave! This isn’t a fight that you can win!
Brother Westhoff has arrived in his residence for the evening, the Ritz Carlton in downtown Chicago. He sets his bag aside and lies down on the king sized bed, staring at the ceiling. Unscripted wasn’t anything close to what he, Brother Jacobs, or The Almighty wanted it to be. An unannounced bonus match was far from an opportunity at the WZCW Tag Team Championship, but The New Church will not be forgotten. Unfortunately for Mr. Baller and Mister Alhazred, Brother Westhoff and Jacobs and The Almighty are angry and their anger will be unleashed at Unscripted.
Chapter 7: Predators
After the events of Meltdown and Ascension, The New Church are a team on the outside looking in. Even after competing with Saboteur and Saxton multiple times since Apocalypse, the Tag Team Championship opportunity has been given to Strikeforce, another team that TNC is very familiar with. The anger that Derek Jacobs and Mason Westhoff feel is almost palpable as they come together in an undisclosed location. Their motive for being in this place is not yet known, but many answers will be given this night.
Derek: The time for talk is over, Brother Westhoff. We must face the truth. We have failed The Almighty. The Tag Team Championship match doesnít even involve us. Weíre not even on the Pay Per View. What do we do now? Do we wait for another sign, or do we try to make our own way?
Mason: Enough, Brother Jacobs. Iíve listened to this enough. You say that weíre finished? You say that weíve failed? Brother Jacobs, are you not the one who has told me that He works in mysterious ways? He will be making himself known soon, brother. We only need to have faith that His will be done.
Derek: Honestly, Mason; Iím sick and tired of sitting around and waiting for The Almighty to make himself known. Iím sick of trying to hide in the shadows and pick the bones of everyone after the damage is done. I am sick of being a vulture. I take what I want. Itís in my nature.
Mason: What are you saying, Derek? What do you suggest we do? We already have our orders from The Almighty. We are to destroy the false prophet that tries to bring glory to his name. What else do you suggest?
Derek: I suggest we take what we want by force. If they donít want to give us the Championships, we take the championships. They donít want to give us an opportunity on Pay Per View? We take an opportunity. We as humans are not vultures by nature. Weíre predators. Itís high time that we start acting like it.
The camera pans way back from Derek and Mason to reveal their location for this meeting.
Derek: Iím glad that you asked Him to meet us here, Brother Westhoff. Itís been a while since Iíve been home. It feels good to be back in Chicago if only for a night. I have so many memories here. Itís crazy if you think about it; I pretty much have two lives: one before meeting you and hearing The Almightyís message, and one after.
Mason: Iím glad that you like the backdrop for our meeting tonight, Derek. What you said earlier tonight about being predators, itís true. You were one hundred percent right. Brother Jacobs, just because The Almighty has a plan for us doesnít mean we canít choose the path. For a while now, I feel like weíve been choosing the wrong path, and your words confirmed that. We are meeting with Him to discuss a couple of things tonight.
Derek: What are we discussing? What section we want to sit in during Unscripted? How much weíre willing to pay for tickets? Brother Westhoff Iím sorry for sounding so angry, but honestly, Iím pretty pissed right now. I love you like a brother, but actions speak louder than words.
Mason: What do you want me to do Derek? I canít just wave a magic wand and make us the champions! Derek Iím getting pretty impatient with you. What do you want to do? You tell me what your plan is and weíll go from there. What else-
??? : ENOUGH!!!
Suddenly, from the shadows a dark figure appears. We canít see his face, but the anger in his voice lets us know that heís not happy with this sudden argument. Brothers Mason and Derek both immediately bow their heads out in respect of who we must assume is ďThe AlmightyĒ.
??? : Enough of this childish bickering. Derek, do you really doubt me so? Do you really think that this is not a part of my plan? Now we have everyone right where we want them. Everyone thinks of you as fools, but unbeknownst to them the true plan is about to take place. At Unscripted, My glory will be revealed, and you, my sons will be revealed as the true force that you are. Here is what you are to do, my sons. At Unscripted you will have a match against Alhazred and Baller. Now, they are not a normal tag team, but do not take them as weak. Alhazred was a part of the Apostles of Chaos, which many people believe is the greatest force to ever rule WZCW. It is imperative for us to eliminate him to make an example. As great as Ty Burna and his apostles were, we will be even greater. They are NOTHING compared to us. As far as Baller, he is in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, after you take care of these two weaklings, we move on to the grand plan.
First, the false prophet will fall at our hands. He has been a distraction for far too long, and it is his fault that my plan has not been carried out thus far. That ends very soon. After you make an example out of this false idol, our true plan beginsÖ..
After the meeting is over, Derek and Mason walk back to Masonís hotel, mostly in silence. After taking the elevator up to the highest floor, Mason speaks his parting words to Derek.
Mason: You know what needs to be done; now itís time to put the plan into motion.
Derek: Remember, Brother Mason; weíre the predators now. Not vultures. Itís time we take what is rightfully ours.
[size="2"]They shake hands and part ways. Two days later, While checking his email in his apartment in Chicago, Derek sees a new message from Mason.
Brother Jacobs, Part one is complete. Phase two begins now.
There is a link at the bottom of the email, which opens up the following video on wzcw.com:
Cameraman: Mason, a word with you. How do you feel about being left off the Unscripted Card
Mason:Saxton and Saboteur are in the ears of WZCW management, I mean, why else have Brother Jacobs and I not gotten a straight-up tag team match for the championships. Plus, as if that wasn't enough, they also leave The Almighty off the show! WZCW may not want The New Church on the show, but trust me when I say that you'll see us at Unscripted.
After reading this, Brother Jacobs goes into his closet and pulls out his video camera.
Las Vegas: Sin City, The Gambling capitol of the World. Whatever name you have for it, it’s known for primarily one thing, gambling. The sight of neon lights flashing from outside to the millions upon millions stacked up inside testing their luck on slot machines, roulette wheels and blackjack tables is one man’s heaven and another man’s hell. It’s here in the empty room of the King’s Casino, in an empty red room with nothing else but a chair in the corner sits the official interviewer of WZCW, a Leon Kensworth, who was given this exact location and time for an interview with someone who wasn’t really his favorite person to interview, on account of a few unfortunate previous experiences that ended up in him being stranded in the middle of France, the eccentric “Le Gentleman Masque”, a masked man from France, taking his time away to explore more of America.
Kensworth: I guess I should count my lucky blessing I got to stay in America this time when I had to travel to interview him. I wonder why this room is so empty.
Suddenly, a knock is heard from the door.
Kensworth: Just in time.
As he opens up the door, he is greeted face to face, not by Le Gentleman Masque, but by the sight of a giant white tiger.
Kensworth: Pleasure to see you, Tiger…TIGER?
The mere sight of the giant White Tiger this close to him causes Kensworth to dash to the exact opposite side of the room. Suddenly, from behind the lion, enters the man himself, pulling on the leash of the creature, before calmly petting her.
The Gent: Sabrina, calm! …My deepest apologies Sir Kensworth. This is Sabrina, one of the two white tigers, the same ones commonly used by the famous Foggleton and Larry show they hold here in Las Vegas. My, the tigers are so very noble creatures. Why I have a tiger myself at home. His name is Wolfgang, a reference to the famous composer, mind you.
Kensworth: Be honest with me. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?
Taking off his hat to scratch his head, The Gent simply looks in confusion before once again putting his hat back on.
The Gent: I am not entirely sure what you’re talking about, but to my best knowledge, I believe that giving you a heart attack was not in my agenda. Of course, the human mind is an odd case, so I might have been doing it entirely subconsciously! What a dastardly crime my brain hatches without me even realizing it.
Sighing, Kensworth moves to an area just close enough so that the mic can barely pick up what The Gent is saying without the tiger being able to get to him.
Kensworth: Gent, why do you have a tiger? Why are we in Las Vegas?
The Gent: Terrific questions. Stupendous, I would say, in fact. I would suggest, however that we take it one at a time. Now then, you brought up the question of why we were in Las Vegas? I’ll tell you why we are in this city. While I initially came here to visit a friend of mine, I had decided to test my luck at a casino here accompanied by my partner, Le Beard. I remember many things, but not too many about my first night here. I remember getting a surprisingly good luck streak, I remember ordering a bottle of the finest whine that this Casino had to offer and by the time I woke up, I experienced what is commonly referred to as a hangover, however it wasn’t quite as amusing as that one movie.
Kensworth: Could you answer the question about the tiger first?
The Gent: Huh. If you must know, I guess I could say I was using it as training for my upcoming match, showing that one must be prepared for anything, but a more accurate and truthful answer is that I personally miss Wolfgang after I made a more long-term run to America. My butler, Sir Banks, is looking after him, but I do wish he was with me. Despite my best attempts, I couldn’t find a hotel that allowed me to bring my tiger into the room, sadly. Is it too much to ask for a tiger in one’s room, I say? …Apologies, I am getting sidetracked. To shorten my answer to your initial question, Sir Kensworth, it reminds me of home, I did not mean to disturb you.
Finally calmed down, Kensworth realizes something.
Kensworth: …Wait a second. You said your partner is with you. Where is he right now?
The Gent: Why that’s an easy one, Kensworth. Who do you think has the other Tiger, Sabrina’s brother, Samson? Speaking of which, the next Foggleton and Larry show should be on soon. Get your tickets, will you? It’s a strange mix of the mystical dark arts and the rabid adventurous animal taming nature. Completely fascinating, I’d say. Before I go, however, I must say a few words. Whomever my partner and I face, whatever combination of Sir Tastic, Sir Califa or a Lady Celeste, I have complete faith in my partner and I can only hope the raging giant has faith in me when we take on what feels to me like our first real match as a team, two classy individuals setting their sights on perhaps one day, the coveted Tag Team gold, but until then, let’s make the world classy, I say. Adieu, Sir Kensworth.
Leaving with the tiger, The Gent makes one last bow before throwing his calling card, the tiny replica of his mask, now with an an additional card that’s a small replica of his partner’s Beard up into the air before shutting the door behind him.
Kensworth: Thank god.
As he goes to open up the door to leave the interview, he overhears the sound of the intercom for the casino vaguely outside his door.
Intercom: Attention customers of the King’s Casino. We’re sorry to say that due to lack of supervision, there is now a tiger roaming around the casino. The person who accidentally left him off his leash, a Mr. ‘Mayske’ would like to inform people that he is sorry about this. Please, stay away from the Tiger, thank you.
Stopped in his tracks, he sighs once again before sitting down on the ground
Kensworth: Well Leon, looks like you’re spending another night trapped again. I should really remember to bring something for next time this happens.
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