Anderson: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Ascension 49!
A roar from the crowd as the excitement for the show is starting to build.
Anderson: At this time, please welcome a man who went through one of the most violent, brutal and barbaric matches in WZCW history; STEVEN HOLMES!!!
Almost immediately following the start of Beethoven, the crowd ignites into a flame of unbridled hatred. They know what part they have to play as does Anderson, but does Holmes? We ask this question because “The Elite” does not emerge. After a good thirty seconds, the boos continue, but for a different reason. The man they crave to hate is not coming to their call. The music dies, and still no Holmes. Anderson too looks confused.
Anderson: Uh...; STEVEN HOLMES!
The production team try once more; play Holmes music as the crowd again bombard the entrance ramp with hatred. Again, thirty seconds pass, and no Holmes. The crowd’s booing has decreased somewhat significantly, instead loud chatter is the main noise.
Connor: Very uncharacteristic of Steven Holmes to not come out and relish the people’s hatred.
Cohen: I sincerely hope “The Elite” is alright.
Anderson scratches her head, unsure of what she’s going to do. A member of the production crew talks to her about something, attempting to move onto the next segment, or the first match, anything that distracts from this bizarre situation when suddenly, a third attempt at summoning Holmes strikes the arena as the 5th Symphony rings out once again. Again, it appears that there is going to be no Steven Holmes when, very slowly, Holmes emerges onto the stage. The first instinct of the audience is to boo, and they do so at an even more elevated fashion compared to normal due to the delays. Cat Connor however is a bit more sympathetic.
Connor: Oh my goodness...
Holmes is wheelchair-bound. He is wheeling himself around, hence the delay, and it doesn’t stop there. His body is hunched over in increased pain due to the glass, chairs and God knows what else from Kingdom Come. His right arm is in a sling and a set of scars decorate Holmes face, complete with stitches and a large black eye. Topping off this ensemble is a neck brace, which partially holds his head in place. It’s rather comedic, or it would be if not for the sour as citrus look on Holmes’ face. He looks deeply agitated by his predicament.
He decides not to wheel himself down the ramp as it could be disastrous. Instead, he does his best to turn his head to a stage-hand, fighting through whatever discomfort he’s in, and mouths at them to give him a microphone. The stage-hand does so, and Holmes, using his good hand holds the voice amplification device. The boos continue to reign down.
Holmes prepares himself to speak, but the level of booing increases once more. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, absorbing the moment, likely getting a rush of adrenaline from the hatred he is sustaining. Then, once the crowd has quietened once more, he goes to speak, raising his left arm to his mouth.
Holmes: It’s clear that every single person in this arena, every single person at home watching this television broadcast and every person in the world who watches WZCW has a deep, disgusting obsession with hating me.
Booing resumes almost on cue as Holmes shoots a brief, sinister smirk.
Holmes: Oh that’s right, boo. Hate me. I love the fact that you despise me so. It fuels me, it makes me feel special. There are few, if any, people you hate more whether that’s in WZCW or even in your everyday lives that you disgusting, petulant worms hate more, and that is sublime. I relish the booing you reign down upon me. I bathe in it, much as I bathe in the fear of my enemies. In fact, they are practically one in the same. One of the key reasons for your hatred of me is blatantly a psychological fear you have of not only my superiority, but my borderline insanity.
Long words, and a deep seated resentment of Holmes as a person and as a wrestler spring to life once more as incredible boos echo throughout the arena. Holmes decides to fight through them to make his point.
Holmes: All of you don’t seem to realise this, but a lethal combination of your hatred, my violent streak, and the fascination I have developed with fear have lead to me being pushed to the brink of my own sanity. I am so close to falling into an abyss of madness it’s scary, even for a master of fear such as myself. In fact, I may be oblivious to the notion, but I may well have already been consumed. I can even pin-point the moment. The precise occurrence of this; Kingdom Come IV. As I lay, bloodied, beaten and battered inside the squared circle, I new my war with Dave was over. He had won...
This draws a mighty cheer from the audience.
Holmes: ...I was bested. However, I thought I had done enough, fought hard enough and absorbed enough punishment to earn at least an iota of respect from all of you...
This is accompanied by a resounding “NO!” from the audience.
Holmes: But of course, being the fickle, degenerate kind you are, and out of the fear you live in, you didn’t applaud or cheer. Nay, you booed and laughed and snickered. You all pointed and made fun of the Englishmen with the royal heritage and the broken body. You laughed at a man when he was down. In fact I assume the majority of you are still laughing as I metaphorically attempt to pick up my broken teeth.
The crowd are more than happy to respond with exaggerated laughter, mocking Holmes while he sits, steaming in his wheelchair.
Holmes: Well the fact of the matter is this; you have laughed at me for the last time. I not only lost the match to Big Dave at Kingdom Come. No, I...
Holmes pauses, the sour look disappearing for a moment, before returning and then vanishing once more, into a sea of sadness. Holmes’ eyes even start to water slightly.
Holmes: ...I also lost my career!
A roar from the audience follows. Holmes, tears now forming slowly, stares out into the audience with pure unbridled hatred. He despises them for this, making fun of his misery.
Holmes: I lost my career, and I don’t blame Big Dave for it one bit. I knew coming into Kingdom Come that Dave wanted to destroy me. I knew he wanted to defeat me and diabolically pick me apart, potentially ending me in the process. I don’t even hold you, the ignorant and unwashed responsible. No, the individual I hold responsible for this is John Constantine. This man, was my friend. He was my ally. He was my confidant. I trusted this man and what did he do? He took a knife and he stabbed my right in the back. You American’s will liken it to Benedict Arnold. Do what you must, butr this man, no, this monster robbed me of my livelihood. He robbed me of my dreams, my hopes and my aspirations. He has not just ended my career...he has taken my quality of life.
A large cheer comes from the crowd who love every moment of this. Tears are beginning to stream down Holmes face.
Holmes: You don’t seem to be aware of it, and you people could not care less, but John Constantine’s interference has caused my spine to suffer severe nerve trauma. I have no mobility in my lower extremities. In other words, I can no longer walk. Forever I am confined to this monstrosity because of the selfish act of one man and his pathetic puny jealousy. John Constantine...I despise you for robbing me of everything. But do remember this, everyone gets what’s coming to them, and sooner or later, through means of my own or someone else, Constantine will be struck down. One could say I’ll have my...Redemption?
Holmes drops the mic at the quizzical note and with his face red, his eyes matching demands to be wheeled out. A stage-hand comes to assist.
Cohen: Such a passionate, raw speech from Steven Holmes. I’m heartbroken by this news.
Connor: It is quite sad, but to blame Constantine is mad it’s not like he was the one who spent the match beating Holmes to a bloody, messy pulp.
Cohen: No, but he did turn the tide of the match, lest ye’ forget.
Connor: Well regardless, we welcome you to Ascension 49 which while kicking off on a somewhat sombre note, promises much excitement.
Suddenly we cut to the backstage area where John Constantine, King for a Day briefcase in tow, is watching the events of the show unfold. He shakes his head as Stacey Madison walks into shot.
Stacey: Mr. Constantine...
Constantine turns suddenly towards her.
Stacey: Mr. Constantine, you clearly just saw the passionate display of emotion from your former ally, and it would seem now, your nemesis Steven Holmes. He claims you are responsible for ending his career, your response?
Constantine thinks for a moment and even scratches his chin, contemplating his thoughts. Then he speaks.
Constantine: I understand his hatred for me and his paranoia even, but that does not for one moment make me have a guilty conscience. I am perfectly aware of my role in Holmes' demise, and I stand by what I did. Holmes will simply have to...learn to adapt. After all...
Constantine holds his King for a Day briefcase into shot.
Constantine: ...I did.
The King for a Day walks off, out of shot, leaving Stacey stood alone as the show rolls on!
A roar from the crowd as the excitement for the show is starting to build.
Anderson: At this time, please welcome a man who went through one of the most violent, brutal and barbaric matches in WZCW history; STEVEN HOLMES!!!
[YOUTUBE]_4IRMYuE1hI[/YOUTUBE]
Almost immediately following the start of Beethoven, the crowd ignites into a flame of unbridled hatred. They know what part they have to play as does Anderson, but does Holmes? We ask this question because “The Elite” does not emerge. After a good thirty seconds, the boos continue, but for a different reason. The man they crave to hate is not coming to their call. The music dies, and still no Holmes. Anderson too looks confused.
Anderson: Uh...; STEVEN HOLMES!
The production team try once more; play Holmes music as the crowd again bombard the entrance ramp with hatred. Again, thirty seconds pass, and no Holmes. The crowd’s booing has decreased somewhat significantly, instead loud chatter is the main noise.
Connor: Very uncharacteristic of Steven Holmes to not come out and relish the people’s hatred.
Cohen: I sincerely hope “The Elite” is alright.
Anderson scratches her head, unsure of what she’s going to do. A member of the production crew talks to her about something, attempting to move onto the next segment, or the first match, anything that distracts from this bizarre situation when suddenly, a third attempt at summoning Holmes strikes the arena as the 5th Symphony rings out once again. Again, it appears that there is going to be no Steven Holmes when, very slowly, Holmes emerges onto the stage. The first instinct of the audience is to boo, and they do so at an even more elevated fashion compared to normal due to the delays. Cat Connor however is a bit more sympathetic.
Connor: Oh my goodness...
Holmes is wheelchair-bound. He is wheeling himself around, hence the delay, and it doesn’t stop there. His body is hunched over in increased pain due to the glass, chairs and God knows what else from Kingdom Come. His right arm is in a sling and a set of scars decorate Holmes face, complete with stitches and a large black eye. Topping off this ensemble is a neck brace, which partially holds his head in place. It’s rather comedic, or it would be if not for the sour as citrus look on Holmes’ face. He looks deeply agitated by his predicament.
He decides not to wheel himself down the ramp as it could be disastrous. Instead, he does his best to turn his head to a stage-hand, fighting through whatever discomfort he’s in, and mouths at them to give him a microphone. The stage-hand does so, and Holmes, using his good hand holds the voice amplification device. The boos continue to reign down.
Holmes prepares himself to speak, but the level of booing increases once more. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, absorbing the moment, likely getting a rush of adrenaline from the hatred he is sustaining. Then, once the crowd has quietened once more, he goes to speak, raising his left arm to his mouth.
Holmes: It’s clear that every single person in this arena, every single person at home watching this television broadcast and every person in the world who watches WZCW has a deep, disgusting obsession with hating me.
Booing resumes almost on cue as Holmes shoots a brief, sinister smirk.
Holmes: Oh that’s right, boo. Hate me. I love the fact that you despise me so. It fuels me, it makes me feel special. There are few, if any, people you hate more whether that’s in WZCW or even in your everyday lives that you disgusting, petulant worms hate more, and that is sublime. I relish the booing you reign down upon me. I bathe in it, much as I bathe in the fear of my enemies. In fact, they are practically one in the same. One of the key reasons for your hatred of me is blatantly a psychological fear you have of not only my superiority, but my borderline insanity.
Long words, and a deep seated resentment of Holmes as a person and as a wrestler spring to life once more as incredible boos echo throughout the arena. Holmes decides to fight through them to make his point.
Holmes: All of you don’t seem to realise this, but a lethal combination of your hatred, my violent streak, and the fascination I have developed with fear have lead to me being pushed to the brink of my own sanity. I am so close to falling into an abyss of madness it’s scary, even for a master of fear such as myself. In fact, I may be oblivious to the notion, but I may well have already been consumed. I can even pin-point the moment. The precise occurrence of this; Kingdom Come IV. As I lay, bloodied, beaten and battered inside the squared circle, I new my war with Dave was over. He had won...
This draws a mighty cheer from the audience.
Holmes: ...I was bested. However, I thought I had done enough, fought hard enough and absorbed enough punishment to earn at least an iota of respect from all of you...
This is accompanied by a resounding “NO!” from the audience.
Holmes: But of course, being the fickle, degenerate kind you are, and out of the fear you live in, you didn’t applaud or cheer. Nay, you booed and laughed and snickered. You all pointed and made fun of the Englishmen with the royal heritage and the broken body. You laughed at a man when he was down. In fact I assume the majority of you are still laughing as I metaphorically attempt to pick up my broken teeth.
The crowd are more than happy to respond with exaggerated laughter, mocking Holmes while he sits, steaming in his wheelchair.
Holmes: Well the fact of the matter is this; you have laughed at me for the last time. I not only lost the match to Big Dave at Kingdom Come. No, I...
Holmes pauses, the sour look disappearing for a moment, before returning and then vanishing once more, into a sea of sadness. Holmes’ eyes even start to water slightly.
Holmes: ...I also lost my career!
A roar from the audience follows. Holmes, tears now forming slowly, stares out into the audience with pure unbridled hatred. He despises them for this, making fun of his misery.
Holmes: I lost my career, and I don’t blame Big Dave for it one bit. I knew coming into Kingdom Come that Dave wanted to destroy me. I knew he wanted to defeat me and diabolically pick me apart, potentially ending me in the process. I don’t even hold you, the ignorant and unwashed responsible. No, the individual I hold responsible for this is John Constantine. This man, was my friend. He was my ally. He was my confidant. I trusted this man and what did he do? He took a knife and he stabbed my right in the back. You American’s will liken it to Benedict Arnold. Do what you must, butr this man, no, this monster robbed me of my livelihood. He robbed me of my dreams, my hopes and my aspirations. He has not just ended my career...he has taken my quality of life.
A large cheer comes from the crowd who love every moment of this. Tears are beginning to stream down Holmes face.
Holmes: You don’t seem to be aware of it, and you people could not care less, but John Constantine’s interference has caused my spine to suffer severe nerve trauma. I have no mobility in my lower extremities. In other words, I can no longer walk. Forever I am confined to this monstrosity because of the selfish act of one man and his pathetic puny jealousy. John Constantine...I despise you for robbing me of everything. But do remember this, everyone gets what’s coming to them, and sooner or later, through means of my own or someone else, Constantine will be struck down. One could say I’ll have my...Redemption?
Holmes drops the mic at the quizzical note and with his face red, his eyes matching demands to be wheeled out. A stage-hand comes to assist.
Cohen: Such a passionate, raw speech from Steven Holmes. I’m heartbroken by this news.
Connor: It is quite sad, but to blame Constantine is mad it’s not like he was the one who spent the match beating Holmes to a bloody, messy pulp.
Cohen: No, but he did turn the tide of the match, lest ye’ forget.
Connor: Well regardless, we welcome you to Ascension 49 which while kicking off on a somewhat sombre note, promises much excitement.
Suddenly we cut to the backstage area where John Constantine, King for a Day briefcase in tow, is watching the events of the show unfold. He shakes his head as Stacey Madison walks into shot.
Stacey: Mr. Constantine...
Constantine turns suddenly towards her.
Stacey: Mr. Constantine, you clearly just saw the passionate display of emotion from your former ally, and it would seem now, your nemesis Steven Holmes. He claims you are responsible for ending his career, your response?
Constantine thinks for a moment and even scratches his chin, contemplating his thoughts. Then he speaks.
Constantine: I understand his hatred for me and his paranoia even, but that does not for one moment make me have a guilty conscience. I am perfectly aware of my role in Holmes' demise, and I stand by what I did. Holmes will simply have to...learn to adapt. After all...
Constantine holds his King for a Day briefcase into shot.
Constantine: ...I did.
The King for a Day walks off, out of shot, leaving Stacey stood alone as the show rolls on!
