House Show: Contract Battle Royal

[a0161613]

The following characters & users are eligible to RP in this thread.

Xavier Creed – Nightmare
JT Brooks – The Sign Guy
Hawke – Thunderphoenix
Stan Rogers – Seth
Jack Skinner – NSL
Ricky Runn – JoeRickyRunn
Jackson Williams – Tnhellbilly88
Ewan Kampa – Boondocks
Johnny Scumm – Jerichoholic4Life
Saboteur - JGlass

Deadline is Wednesday, July 6th at 23:59 PM EST

 

[JGlass]

Saboteur is by himself in a locker room where he is sitting on a bench and tying his wrestling boots.


Saboteur: First you tie a little knot… then the puppy ears… can you tie ‘em in a knot, can you tie ‘em in a bow… put one under the other…


There’s a loud knock on the door, which breaks Saboteur’s concentration and startles him so badly that the laces on the boot Saboteur’s attempting to tie snap.


Saboteur: DAMMIT! This had better be good!


A timid looking young man comes into the locker room. He’s about 5’10” and pretty skinny. He wears a fairly thick pair of glasses, has messy brown hair, and he’s wearing a wrinkled polo and khaki pants.


Alvin: Excuse me, Mr…. Teur? I just wanted to tell you’re going to be in a match tonight. It's a...

Saboteur: A match? Sweet! I assume it’s for the WZCW Championship?

Alvin: Not quite, you’re going to be in…

Saboteur: No? That’s okay, I’ll settle for the Elite X Title.

Alvin: Actually, sir, you’re going to be with…

Saboteur: I’m not wrestling for the Elite X Belt? Management is GROSSLY underestimating my abilities, but fine, whatever, I think I’d look best with the Mayhem belt around my waist anyway.

Alvin: You’re not in a title match sir.

Saboteur: Not in a title match!?!? What is this malarkey! Do you know who I am? I’m Saboteur, the man that almost killed Osama Bin Laden! I’m the man that gave Dick Cheney his first and fourth heart attacks! Hell, on my way to the arena I blew up a car! I mean, it was my own car, but it was still really cool!

Alvin: Oh… well that’s… nice.

Saboteur: You’re damn right it’s... did you say nice?

Alvin: Um… awesome?

Saboteur: You’re damn right it’s awesome! So… kid… who are you again

Alvin: My name’s Alvin, I’m an intern for WZCW.

Saboteur: Alvin? What kind of name is that? A chipmunk name?


Saboteur laughs at what he finds to be a hilarious joke.


Alvin: Yeah, I haven’t heard that one before. So anyway, you’re match tonight… you’re going to be in a contract battle royal with nine other wrestlers.


Saboteur does a spit take despite the fact he wasn't drinking anything.


Saboteur: Nine other men? Well… I suppose that is less than ten. Then again, it’s more than eight… What kind of weapons are we using?

Alvin: I’m sorry… weapons?

Saboteur: Yes, weapons! Guns, knives, swords, battle axes, I think I have a Morningstar in my trunk if those are legal.

Alvin: You’re not going to use weapons, you’re going to wrestle them.

Saboteur: Oh, right, wrestling. So I have to pin them.

Alvin: No, you…

Saboteur: Make them submit?

Alvin: No, you have to throw them over the top rope.

Saboteur: That shouldn’t be too hard. Just last week I threw my friend Garrett over the couch after he tried to change the channel when I was watching Three is Company.

Alvin: Three is Company?

Saboteur: You don’t know about Three is Company? You sure ask a lot of dumb questions Alvin, you know that?

Alvin: Um, sorry sir, my apologies. Well, I better be going now, good luck with your match tonight…

Saboteur: NOT SO FAST SHRIMPY! I have more questions. Namely, when do I get paid? I have a cable bill like you wouldn’t believe. I… I mean, my roommate orders a LOT of pay per view porn.

Alvin: Yeah… you don’t get paid until you win a contract with WZCW.

Saboteur: WHAT!? So there’s no guarantee that I even get paid?

Alvin: Well, if you win the match you’ll get a contract and you’ll start earning money and working WZCW shows regularly, it’s as simple as that.


Saboteur stands up, puts his hands on his hips, puffs out his chest, and looks towards nothing in particular.


Saboteur: Well, then my fate is decided: I must win the WZCW Battle Royal by throwing 9 opponents over the top rope without the use of any of my usual gizmos and gadgets. It will be a battle for the ages, one that the man in Black and Gold will win handily.

Alvin: Oooookay, well, I gotta go now, but it was nice meeting you.


Alvin turns around and starts to walk out of the room but Saboteur quickly grabs the collar of his shirt and yanks him back.


Saboteur: Not so fast shrimpy! I have one last thing that I need you to do.


Alvin’s eyes are wide open, terrified at what the clearly insane Saboteur is about to make him do.


Alvin: Ye… Yes?


Saboteur throws Alvin on the ground, and then asks very politely…


Saboteur: Can you tie my boots please?


Alvin starts tying them as he lies on the ground and Saboteur starts to laugh.


Saboteur: Oh Alvin, I think this is the start of a beautiful relationship.​

 

[TSG]

We see a picture of a dark, grimy alley at a time that seems to be late at night. We hear the sounds of a city: police sirens, trash cans being knocked over, gang members enjoying a night in the streets. Suddenly, we hear footsteps, and the camera looks up to an young, quite handsome, African-American man. He is dress in dark blue jeans, black Air Nikes, and a dark blue graphically designed collared shirt. He is wearing a gold necklace, and stops for a moment to sit on a cardboard crate. He looks at the camera before speaking.

J.T. Brooks:
Hey. My name is J.T. Brooks. I'm an entreprenuer, an intern at a law firm, and a self-made wealthy man. But what many people don't know about me is that this is where I grew up.

He waves his arms around the dark alley and surrounding area, letting everyone take it in.

I grew up here, on the mean streets of Detroit, Michigan. Murder City. I've spent the first nineteen years of my life in alleys just like these. I've been in so many street fights, in this alley alone, I've lost count. My body has been bruised and scarred, and it is still healing. I went to a high school where I survived two school shootings in four years, in one of which a bullet grazed my arm. I was almost stabbed to death because I wore clothes just like these to school one day. I'm only nineteen, and I have been through more than most men have in there entire life.

He kicks a can away from his feet, before continuing to speak again.

But now, I am a wealthy man. Through it all, by any means necessary, I persevered and became the man before you today. But I have never forgotten where I came from. I have never forgotten who I am.

He stands again, walking some more, before stepping out onto a street, one of the many in the Motor City, and looks up at the skyline before speaking again.

Today, I was humbled to accept a call from the offices of WrestleZone Championship Wrestling. It's always been my dream, ever since watching wrestling on a black and white TV in an alley as a small kid, to be a professional wrestler. And when I answered that fateful call today, they offered me a chance to participate in a battle royal for a contract. It amazes me, that through it all, those street fights on those alleys, selling drugs on this very street as a young teenager, I am finally getting the chance to live out my dream.

He looks up at the sky again, before looking back at the camera. He is starting to get emotional, even shedding a tear.

Bro, it's time for me to realize my dreams, and my potential. I'm putting everyone on notice: I'm going to be a champion, and I'm going to be a superstar. I'll keep reppin' the 3-1-3, and I'll see you all in WZCW...deuces.

J.T. Brooks thumps his chest, and flashes a peace sign as a gesture to all his boys in Detroit. He turns and walks away, emotional, as the camera fades, getting one more good look at the Detroit night before the picture turns black.
​

 

[Johnny Scumm]

A New Beginning?

(Night has fallen. The sky is as dark as can be, with a multitude of clouds in the sky. Rain is falling from them rapidly, as well as heavily. In the distant, a Thunderstorm can be hear, approaching in this direction. Eventually, after looking up at the Sky, the Camera pans down, where a figure is standing, very still in the Background. The Rain is hitting his head and his shoulders, leading to him getting drenched. The Camera zooms in, it's Johnny Scumm. The Camera stops zooming in, but Scumm begins to approach the lens. He then kneels down in the Mud)

Scumm: Welcome. Welcome, Wrestlezone Championship Wrestling, to MY world. The world of Johnny Scumm. You do not know me and I do not know you, nor do I wish to. However, in a very short while, you will know me, without a doubt in the world. "Why?", I hear you ask. Well, here's why. Very soon, I will have my first match with WZCW. It will be a Battle Royal, to earn a Contract with them. That match, is mine to win. The Company, is mine to dominate. Once I get my Contract, I will be going after anyone and everyone. Again, I hear you ask, "Why?". You see, when you debut with any Company, no matter what profession you may be in, you need to prove yourself. Now, don't get me wrong, I've proved myself time and time again in my life, but never in front of these people that call themselves "Wrestlers". Obviously, they've never come across me before and they're not going to know how to when they do. You see, I am a little bit different to most.

(He stands and walks over to a Log, where he sits hiself down. The rain is still bouncing off of his head)

You see, I'm different because to live, I fight. It's all I have ever done, also, all I ever will do. When I was just 13, a little boy, I was abandoned. Left to fend for myself. Well, it didn't go as planned. I ended up living in backstreets, alleyways, shop fronts, trying to scrounge every last morsel of food or drink I could lay my grimy hands on. But then, a light came on in my Head. I heard, through word of mouth, about an underhanded business that arranged backstreet brawls, anything goes, any gender, fight for your life kind of things. I knew that it was for me. I hit 17 and I started to make an effort. Started running daily, before I had another revelation. There was a Gym I found, the back door was a bit dodgy, so I took it as my Home every night. I used the Equipment in it to it's full extent. Not before long, I was "it". I was the fighting machine that I knew would win these Brawls. So I entered. I fought men and women alike, to a bloody mess, day in and day out. Many times I would have my face battered in, or my bones damaged, but I never, ever backed down. I would fight a fight with my leg in Plastercast, little did they know it was an advantage. A large one as well. Slowly, but surely, the money began to roll in. I could afford my own place, a small flat in Rochdale in Manchester. I took rent out on that and stayed there during the days, whilst fighting through the night. Then the day came, where I couldn't take no more. I was fighting one of the toughest men I'd ever taken on, but I figured his weak spot out. I was using it to my advantage, but these kinds of people have friends. From behind, I was smashed in the Shoulder with a Sledgehammer. It put my Shoulder out and I was in hospital for a few weeks. They managed to get me fixed up, but ever since that night, my Shoulder isn't what it used to be. But back to WZCW. You see, I don't see why they need to make me fight for a Contract. The bastards think they'll put me in a Battle Royal, with NINE other men, all who think they're worthy of getting a Contract with the Company. Let me tell you now. All 9 of you. You're NOT worthy and you never will be. When I'm the last man standing in the middle of that Ring, you'll all look up at me and know that I am the one. Destined to fight in WZCW.

(Scumm then stands up again, wiping his backside of all the muck from the Log he was sat on. He goes to say something, but a voice from somewhere is heard)

(?): JOHNNY! Remember me?!

I hear you, I don't see you. Get out here!

You don't remember this voice Johnny? The voice you knew for 13 whole years?

What? You can't be?

It's me Johnny, your Father.

How did you even know I was here and what makes you even think that I want to see you? You abandoned me, along with mum, to go off and get a "better life". Obviously, like most other things, you screwed that up as well.

Look, Johnny, I've been following you. Not for long though, it was a coincidence actually. I happened to hear about you and your fighting through a friend of mine. He was watching you at one of your fights. I thought from then, I needed to find you. See how you've changed. You're nothing like the boy I raised.

You're trying to make me forgive you, aren't you? Look, how do you expect me to do that, after EVERYTHING you put me through?

I know, I know. I wasn't the best Father in the World. I could've done a lot more to be a good one, but I didn't. I regret it now.

(Both men are standing, face to face. The Rain is now soddening Johnny's Father, making both men look drenched)

But I can't just forgive you, can I?!

(Scumm's Father reaches out his arms to Johnny)

Please, Johnny. Just this one moment.

(Johnny walks up to his Father. He stands in his arms and embraces the Moment. As Scumm moves away from the hug with his Father, he boots him in the Gut and the Father falls to the Floor, in the Mud)

IT'S BEEN TOO LONG FATHER, TOO LONG! THERE'S NO CHANCE IN HELL THAT I'M GOING TO FORGIVE YOU, EVER!

(Johnny's Father is calling out for forgiveness, but Scumm kneels down beside him. He then puts him in his Finishing Move, the "Memory Loss. Scumm's Father screams out in pain as Scumm eventually lets go. He laughs to himself and crawls over to the Camera)

Watch out WZCW, there's Scumm coming. And he's not holding back, he WILL be your new Superstar.

(He laughs to himself some more, staring at the Camera, whilst running his Fingers through his Hair. He sits there, breathing heavily, yet doing nothing more)​

 

[Sinister Shadows]

Scene opens as Jackson parks his car in front of the arena for tonight’s WZCW house show. Jackson gets out of the car and closes the door as he looks at the WZCW banner over the entrance arena. A camera man is there within moments, not wanting to miss anything that Jackson might have to say before the biggest match of his young career.

Jackson: What do you want? Where’s the person that is supposed to come and carry the star’s bags?

Jackson walks to the trunk of the car and gets his bags out of the back, closing the trunk he turns and begins walking towards the arena as he talks to the camera.

Jackson: You know WZCW management, this isn’t a very good business move on your part, you should be doing everything you can to make me happy, because you see unlike the other wrestlers here tonight, I have options, I can go to any major wrestling organization I want too, they all have sent me letters, wanting me to join their organization.

Jackson goes to walk through the entrance and into the arena when he is stopped by the security guards that are there.

Security: Sorry sir, you can’t enter the arena here without proper identification, this is wrestlers and others staff only, fan entrance is just around the building.

Jackson looks at the guard a few moments before laughing and beginning to walk past him, the security quickly side stepping in front of him, pushing him back from the door. Jackson looks at him angrily for a moment before dropping his back and digging through it.

Jackson: You should be fired for being so incompetent, everybody should know who I am if they want to work a wrestling show in any way, I mean, look at me, I’m the best wrestling prospect ever, and you don’t know who I am? That’s pathetic.

Jackson finds his WZCW id and forcibly hands it to the security guard as he stares at him angrily.

Jackson: Can I go by now so that I can beat these nobodies in tonight’s battle royal, and go onto to bigger and better things in WZCW?

The security officer hands Jackson his id back as he waves him through. Jackson takes the id and motions for the cameraman to follow him on into the arena.

Jackson: I can’t believe how incompetent that the security is, how does he still have a job when he’s that bad at it? My job is much harder than his, I am the pro wrestler, all he has to do is not let fans into a door, but he can’t even do that right, hell maybe I should just do his job for him too, at least it would be done right that way. At least now I can just go to my personal locker room and get dressed for tonight’s match in peace.

Jackson turns down the hall with the locker rooms, not seeing his name on any of the doors he begins getting visibly agitated as he hears someone call his name from the side.

Stacy Madison: Jackson Williams, would you care to give us a few words on the battle royal tonight?

Jackson turns around and stands beside Stacy, facing the camera

Stacy: There is a difficult lineup tonight for this battle royal, everyone saying that it’s a crap shoot, and that the person that gets the lucky break will be the winner, how do you feel about that? And how confident are you that you are going to win?

Jackson: A crap shoot? Lucky break? It’s none of that; I’m going to win, plain and simple. I’ll be surprised if I even break a sweat taking care of these nobodies, I’m easily the best here tonight, and they should have just stayed home.

Stacy: Well it sounds as if confidence is no issue for you going into this match, but I think you are making it sound easier than it is going to be for you out there.

Jackson: I’m not making it sound easier than it is, look at me, it’s obvious that I’m on a whole other level than everyone else in this match, I shouldn’t even have to go through this, the people in charge at WZCW should have just been smart enough to put me on the main roster, but instead they want me to embarrass these rookies. Now where is my locker room? The arena staff wasn’t smart enough to put my name on my door?

Stacy: Well Jackson, as good as you think you are at this point, you are still a rookie, and you will be dressing in the rookie locker room, with the rest of your challengers.

Jackson storms off into the locker room as she speaks, throwing his bag down next to a chair in the corner, he sits down as the camera fades to black, and when it fades back into focus he is sitting in his wrestling attire, lacing up his boots.

Jackson: While I was growing up, I was always the example of perfection. I was the star quarterback, the ace pitcher, the cleanup hitter; I was everything for my school’s sports teams. I was the person that was counted on to win the games in the big moments. Tonight, I am counted on to come through in the big moment again, which like always, I will.

Jackson stands and puts on his robe as a producer calls for him, fastening the robe he walks out of the locker room, the cameraman following him.

Jackson: It’s time for the future star, Jackson Williams to begin his climb to stardom.

Jackson walks away from the camera, hearing the fans in the arena as his music begins to play, he stands silently for a moment before walking through the curtain to begin his journey of destiny.​

 

[Boondocks]

Home Sweet Home​

Ewan Kampa is seen sitting in the back of a truck. The tailgate is down, and his legs are hanging over the edge. He's wearing dirty light blue jeans, a button up plaid flannel shirt, black work boots, and a baseball cap. He's carving something into a chunk of wood when he starts singing...

Got my work boots on, shovel away.
Cleanin' up the yard, dusty and dirty.
Wish I could stop it, it breaks my heart.
It seemed to early, hell, he was thirty.

He stops there and looks up to see his dad...

Son? Ewan, what are you doing?

Just carving Alex a bear.

Making attachments to him won't help you move one.

I know. I just, I feel bad. I should have stayed with him.

You didn't know.

I did. I knew something was wrong. I could feel it. I don't know why I left.

His dad makes his way over and sits next to him on the truck.

Look, if you keep mourning, it will just hurt more. You just have to move on and get a new best friend. I know you can't replace him, but maybe getting a different one. Maybe you could finally get a girlfriend...

I don't think a girlfriend is a good idea. All she'll do is nag and make me do stuff for her and drain my wallet.

No, only hoes do that. I mean a real woman. I beautiful woman who just wants to be with you.

Those exist? Hell, Eighth Wonder of the World right there dad.

His dad turns and looks at him with a grimace.

Hey now, your mom was a nice woman. She never used me for money of labor. She just loved me. And she loved you too.

And she died at forty. So basically, I have to choose between a terrible marriage or one that will last until she dies young?

Just give it a try, okay? Here, take the truck and go to the bar. Have a couple cold ones and introduce yourself to some ladies. You'll have fun.

He hands Ewan the keys to their truck and walks off to go inside. Ewan stares at the partially finished carving, then the keys and makes a decision. He puts the carving in his pocket and drives off...

------------------------------------------------------------

We return to see Ewan sitting at a table in the bar. He has a bottle of Budweiser on one hand, and his other is resting in someone else's hand...

Oh Ewan. So what brought you to this bar anyways?

Well if I told you the truth, you'd think I was lying.

Go for it. I'll believe you, I promise.

Well I didn't want to come. I was carving something for my, uh, recently lost friend. My dad to--

Recently lost? What do you mean?

My friend died last week. His funeral was this morning,

Oh, I'm so sorry.

Nah, it's okay. It happens to the best of 'em. Anyways, my dad told me I should go to the bar and meet girls.

Well, you met one. Here I am.

Ha, yeah. Normally, I don't date.

Oh? Well why not? It's fun, see?

She kisses him on the cheek, and as she does, she sees he's blushing.

Well, uh, I don't normally date because I work a lot. My job keeps me on the road.

What do you do?

I'm a professional wrestler.

No way! I love pro wrestling!

No kidding?! I've never met a woman who does.

My favorite is Wrestlezone Championship Wrestling. I LOVE seeing Austin Reynolds.

WZCW?! No kidding?! I have a match for a contract with them this week!

Oh, I wanna go!

Then it's a date!

A date? Aww, how sweet. I'll cheer for you.

Sounds good. Hey, you want to get out of here and go see the sunset? It's real great from my farm.

Yes please.

They leave and go to his truck, hand-in-hand. Ewan is grinning the whole way to the vehicle.

------------------------------------------------------------

We tune back in to Ewan's life to see him seated in a Cafe, and across the table is his dad again. They are talking...

So tell me again, what are you doing that you need to move out?

I'm going on the road to wrestle for WZCW. I'll be moving out and getting a loft in New York.

New York?! Are you crazy?!

I want the job, dad. I want to be a professional wrestler, and it will be just too damn hard to get to each arena from here in Minnesota. So I'm moving there.

Why do you want to wrestle?

You know I've been wrestling since I was 3. It's my passion. This is just a different type of it. Trust me, I'm getting good. It'll be worth it, too. I'll see tons of new places, I'll meet new people. And I'll be happy. Isn't that all a man wants for his son? For him to be happy?

I, well yeah. As long as it keeps you happy.

Thanks dad. I'm gonna go pick up Cindy and we're gonna get my things.

Cindy?

The girl from the bar? Remember, I told you last night when I got home.

Oh, right. Well, I'll be seeing you, son.

Ewan gets up, and goes to walk you, he reaches out to shake his dad's hand before leaving. He, again, leaves grinning wildly.

Fade to black.​

 

[GI Cake]

Ricky stood alone in a desolate locker room, his cold blue eyes glared at his reflection as he carefully painted his own face with a fine pointed brush. Ricky kept his fingers steady with every brush, assuring that he would not mess up a single detail with his face paint. He added more gold paint onto his right eye. After he painted the right side of his eye, he began working on the forehead in tribal-esque warpaint. The designs and swerves were perfect in relation to his face. Once Ricky finished the gold paint he threw the paint the tiny gold paint tube to the side.

Ricky walked away from the mirror in the bathroom and got back to his locker. He opened his locker as he spoke to himself "Now let's see... I won't be able to get thrown over the top if I manage to hurt and destroy the other people in this match...Most of these big men can only work a match for so long until they are out of gas...Almost just like a Ford Truck..." Ricky opened his gym bag and pulled out eight files. Each folder had the name and picture of the wrestlers in the Royale.

Ricky quickly skimmed them and placed them in several different piles across the floor. The first one on the left was a file on Xaiver Creed. Ricky said to himself "I will have to wear him down first... I should start my attack on his shoulder" Ricky then moved onto the next folder and said softly as he opened it "Jack Skinner? This guy doesn't know the difference between a head lock or a drop kick... However I am sure some one would get tired from beating him down...I should try to keep him in the ring awhile."

Ricky grinned and sighed happily when he read through J.T Brook's file. Ricky's eyes scanned the folder, he noticed Brooks large number of share holders and a thought popped out of his head. Yes...I see....This guy is rather trustworthy....I help him out a little in the match and he will get my back just in case..." Ricky then sat up straight and began to contemplate all the files he just looked through, all the information sucked up and captured in his brain. His mind working diligently on his war plans. Ricky loved being this prepared for a match, it helped his ego and his confidence.

After reading through the rest of the names, Ricky packed the folders back into his bag and pushed the bag into his locker. Ricky then grabbed his black wrist tape and slowly began taping his right hand. He started near he forearm with the roll of tape. Ricky loved the grip he had when he used a whole roll of tape, made it easier for him to break and snap the bones of his opponents. By the end of the roll, Ricky's arm was completely taped. He dug back into his gym bag and pulled out the golden colored wrist tape and quickly applied it the same fashion as he did with his right arm. Ricky was focused, he had his game plan all put together in his mind. He was not only going to win, but he was going to make a statement to everyone in the WZCW roaster. No longer will the little men like Ricky be ignored by the world as giants and strongmen that infested the Professional Business.

Ricky continued walking down the busy but dark backstage hallway before being approached by WZCW interviewer, Rebbeca Serra. Rebecca was not alone, she brought her camera and audio crew with her for the attempt to ambush Ricky. Serra approached Ricky with a smile and turned to her camera guy and gave him the cue to start the interview. Rebecca then turned to Ricky and spoke into her mic, her voice was sweet but bold as she asked Ricky Runn, for years in the indie circuit you are now given the chance of a life time...How does it feel to have a chance to compete in a contract battle royal?" Ricky kept his head down and nodded his head as he listened to her voice, his eyes closed as he took the time to process his response. Once Rebecca finished Ricky without haste fired back "You know what Becky? I am pretty damn excited right now I had to share a locker room that was used by those fat, lazy, grose, slimeballs that frankly shouldn't deserve to be in the same room as me. I worked my entire life to get here, not once I have ever asked for a hand out or a "Give me" never pressed the easy button not once in my life... And to now show Chuck Myles that I have what it takes to dominate the locker room as the mouse among Giants... Now excuse me Miss...I have a match I still need to get ready for...So if you are done asking these stupid questions get that camera outta my face and get out of my way."

Ricky then stormed away from Rebecca and continued walking towards the the stage. His hard work and determination were about to be paid off. Ricky only had one person in this world to be mad at if he were to lose tonight and that would be himself. Not once as he ever let someone give him a reason or an excuse on not to win or succeed at anything he ever tried. And if someone did, he would have made them suffer for it. As a result, if anyone get's in his way to win, he would cause a rather large amount of undesirable pain to the poor fool.

 

[NSL]

The scene opens with Jack Skinner driving his cherry red Testarossa, talking on the cell phone with his former boss.

Jack Skinner: What? A Contract Battle Royal? This is ridiculous! Don't they know who I am? How lucky they are to have me? What if I get hurt?

Jack stops for a second, listening...

But they're bunch of no-name nobodies! If something happens to my face, they'll hear from my lawyers!

Jack's boss cuts him off, and screams loudly, and incoherently...

I don't care if it is fake. One of those guys messes up, and I'm a goner!

Jack shuts his phone, and angrily tosses it to his passenger seat. He exits the highway, and pulls into the employee entrance of his former employer...

The scene cuts, and comes back with Jack sitting in a large leather chair, in a corporate office, still sporting his shades...

Editor: Listen, you're not the big shot in the wrestling world, that you were here. You can't tell these people how things work, they'll tell you. The sooner you figure it out, the better.

Whatever. I can't believe this. And now, you tell me I don't even get paid for this? Do I at least get a rider, if I win?

It ain't that kind of contract, kid. It's a diff...

Oh what the hell?! Once I "win" my contract, I'm putting a rider in, and if there's ONE brown M&M in my dressing room, there'll be hell to pay!

Jack leaves, and heads towards the local gym...

**************************************************​

Upon arriving, Jack retrieves a small bag from his trunk, and heads inside...

Trainer: Hey, Jack! Hows everything? That bag's a little small, to have your gear in, don't you think?

Gear? I'm just taking off my jacket and shirt. I don't see the point in putting too much effort into all this pre-game stuff, if it's just going out there and trading moves with someone. Think it'd be a good idea to take the shades off? I don't want to ruin them. I spent $400 on that pair.

Wow, OK, man. Whatever you say. Just meet me in the ring in twenty. We'll cover some basic stuff, to get you through the first match.

Jack heads to the locker room, and hangs up his shirt and jacket. He checks himself out for a few minutes in the mirror, slicking his hair back, and dabs on some cologne. Before leaving, he gives himself one last look, and heads out...

Back in the gym, Jack climbs the steps, and has some trouble negotiating the ring ropes. After stumbling in, he gathers himself, and is ready to go...

What's first? Hurracanrana? Moonsault? 450?

No. I said basic. Let me show you how to land a punch, throw a kick, the way the pros do.

C'mon! I can throw a punch, and I can kick, and I can even do a DDT. Show me the real stuff.

The trainer applies a front facelock, and delivers a picture-perfect suplex, slamming Jack into the mat.

That's a standard suplex. See how I...Jack?

The trainer sees Jack is still lying on the mat, clutching his back, but also checking his hair...

You alright? That wasn't too rough, was it?

That felt a little too real. You clearly don't know what you're doing. One of these yahoos tries that in this match I've got, and I'll need an appointment with my chiropractor every day. I'm out of here.

Jack rolls out of the ring, but fails to catch himself, and smacks against the floor. He stands up, wheezing from having knocked the air out of his lungs, and walks out, as if nothing happened. Once outside, he lets out a loud cough, and hunches over, holding his sides.

Hey, you OK?

Jack straightens up, knowing the trainer is watching, and leaves without responding...

 

[nightmare]

Tokyo, Japan. Club Twisted

Coming through the backstage door to 'Twisted' we see Creed standing inside the workout ring. Pacing back & forth, Creed has a nervous energy about him- yet a wide smile on his face. He seems to be salivating at the thought of throwing around some folks in preparation for his next WZCW match. Next to Creed is his friend & head trainer, Marcus. A short little guy with a big mouth, currently attired in a worn grey sweatshirt & faded jeans. The surrounding area is crowded with fighters eagerly awaiting the trainer to announce the participants in this warm-up match. One by one 9 men step though the ropes & spread out in the ring.


"I thank you all for coming here this afternoon. Some of you have taken time away from your family & work to help in this little warm up match. Others were just putting larger dents in their living room couches."


Creed lets out a little chuckle with a glance toward Marcus. Putting the clipboard down & raising his middle finger, Marcus shoots a warm smile back at Creed before leaving the ring.


"Some of you may know i have another match upcoming in WZCW. I came home to prepare & train with my extended family here @ 'Twisted'. I appreciate you being here & promise a short match. That way we don't disturb Marcus & his sandwich."


As Marcus looks up from his sandwich he mutters "Asshole" under his breath & wipes his face before diving back into his meal.


The bell sounds & the action begins. As the participants square off- the largest man in the ring goes right for Creed with a shoulder tackle. Creed hits the mat & rolls away from a splash attempt. As he makes his way to his feet, another man grabs Creed in a hammerlock. Quickly he reverses it into a back suplex & follows up with a knee drop. The larger man is now being triple teamed in the corner & regains his composure- tossing one of the competitors over the ropes. Quickly Creed hits a clothesline in the corner & the other 2 men help him toss the large man out. 8 remaining. The 2 smaller guys hit a double dropkick on Creed as he staggers back against the ropes. With one arm locked, he holds on as the 2 attempt to toss Creed over. One man gets a kick to the knee for his trouble as another takes a forearm to the back by one of the other fighters. Creed goes for a chokeslam but its countered into an attempted armbar, but Creed wont go down. He stays on his feet & crashes into the turnbuckle, causing the smaller man to crumple in the corner. As Creed hits some corner stomps, 2 more fighters are taken out & a 3rd goes over by way of a great clothesline. Down to 5 & shortly thereafter we are left with 3. Creed is caught with a headlock takedown & then eats a boot to the face. The 3rd man left sets up on the top rope,but gets a dropkick instead by the 2nd man causing him to crash outside. Creed makes it to his feet & hits a samoan drop as the man turns back around. After a few stomps & an elbow, Creed pulls the man to his feet & tosses him over,but the fighter holds on to the ropes. As he attempts to get back in from the apron, Creed hits a running knee & sends the man off with a thud as he hits the mat below.


Marcus is making his way to the ring passing out water & tosses one to Creed. After thanking the fighters, Marcus climbs in the ring.


"You underestimated that big fella didn't ya?"


"Its harder to deal with a rhino in the ring, as opposed to a meatball sub my friend."


"Well at least my sub tasted better than that he smelled."


"You get the plane tickets squared away? I have to leave in 2 days."


"They are in your office upstairs along with your stuff. You really need to clean up in there, I'm not your maid."


"Then why do you have that outfit from last Halloween? The guys have pictures."


"Jokes, jokes. Are you prepared to go back there & kick some ass? Or do i need to schedule you for next weekend here at the club?"


"I'm ready. My shoulder feels better than ever & i picked up some tips from a few of the guys backstage @ WZCW. Got a few tricks up my sleeve. This time will be different. I gonna show them why Xavier Creed is not to be taken lightly."


"Good. Focused. I like it. You will need it because i hear you got stiff competition in this one."


"Yeah, like that journalist who cant take a bump? Or the 'superhero' who wishes he was the 5th Golden Girl? Don't get me wrong, he seems like a fun guy, but I'm not scared of him. I got something to prove there. I deserve my shot @ WZCW because i have the talent and experience. I'm not scared to take on anyone & will destroy my body to get the job done. This is it. Its now or never, Marcus."


Creed drops down off the apron & makes his way to the office. He grabs the remote to the flat screen, turns on the power & slides comfortably into his desk chair. As he takes a swig of his water, he thumbs through his saved videos & replays his last fight. Carefully studying his movements & counters, Creed plans his next match. Determined to make a mark in WZCW he starts looking up his opponents, one by one, on the Internet. Typing in the name of Saboteur brings up a fan page for Charles in Charge & Creed chuckles to himself...


"This is going to be a blast."​

 

[TSG]

We see a jet black Lamborghini Diablo pull up outside of an arena. It is dusk outside, as fans are pouring into the building for a WZCW live event. The door opens and out from the driver's seat steps J.T. Brooks. He reaches across and drags a bag with his gear out of the driver's seat, before shutting the door and walking toward the arena. As the sun sets in the background, J.T. Brooks realizes this may be his one and only shot, and takes his designer sunglasses off as he walks into the arena.

--------------------

We transition to the locker room, where J.T. Brooks is getting ready for his match. He is putting his gear on and ties up his boots. He is the only one in the locker room, as he is one of the last men to arrive to the show tonight, and needs to hurry to get ready for his match. But he has one last thing he has to do. As the camera rolls, he is broadcasting a message live to his friends back at home, and he has requested that the tape be played before his match.

J.T. Brooks:

Well, here we are. The night I have the shot to realize my dreams. Tonight, I enter one of the toughest battles of my life, but I am ready for this. Anyone else would be prepared to rip into their opponents, or give a cutting edge "shoot" as to why they are the best. But that ain't me, bro. I'm going to keep this short. I just have a couple thing I want to say.

This has been a dream of mine for years. I have been through street fights, been shot at, overdosed on heroin in dark alleys. I have been through some tough times, but tonight I will overcome it all. I have been training for this for years, and I couldn't be more ready. I know I am tough enough, I know that I've paid my dues to get here by just growing up the way I did. And I know that I have the passion in my heart to sacrifice everything to get this contract!

JT's words have become intense, as he is nearly screaming by this last line. He pauses for a moment, looking around the locker room, taking it all in. He looks down at the tattoo on his right arm, a tribal design that is a symbol for courage.

People gave me every reason why I shouldn't succeed, and tonight, I am going to show them every reason why I will succeed. So for all the haters, the doubters, the people who told me why I wouldn't be able to do this, watch me tonight: I'm going to so you exactly why I can.

A producer walks in, and tell J.T. that his match is scheduled to be in about 20 minutes. He says that if he wants his tape played they need it now. J.T. looks back at the camera and thumps his chest proudly, and gets up, as the tape fades out.​

 

[Daniel]

Welcome To The World Of
Stan Rogers

The smooth hum of a silver Lexus fits seamlessly into the balmy, mid-July evening. Parked in his reserved spot just outside of the arena, Stan Rogers exits his car to the gasps and cheers of WZCW fans. The people outside of the arena begin to chant. The chant grows, and grows. Rogers can hear them as he walks towards the entrance to the arena. “STAN! STAN! STAN! STAN!”. Women scream, men cheer and Rogers signs autographs. This really is the life of a WZCW wrestler.

In his head.

The reality of the situation is far more subtle than the fantasy he envisioned. Rogers exits his loud, worn-out, brown 1954 Cadillac and walks. And walks. And walks. While most fans at the house show do not care for Rogers’ presence, some do. Some turn their heads to see one of the entrants in the WZCW contract battle royale. But perhaps this can be attributed to the fact that he is already in his wrestling gear, and not to his popularity amongst the WZCW fans.

As Rogers enters the arena, he is greeted by a young man in the lobby. His small stature, clean shaven face, spotless suit and seemingly permanent smile scream “intern”.

"So who are you?"

"I’m Josh. Josh Brooks. I’m an intern here."

"You don’t say. Right, so what do I do?"

"Well, that’s where I come into this. I’m here to guide you through this process."

"Um, OK. What do we do first?"

"Well the show starts in forty-five minutes, so we need to go to the locker room. There, you can meet all the other guys in the battle royale and wait for your match."

As the men walk through the hustle and bustle of an arena before a wrestling show, the physical difference is evident. Rogers dwarfs the short and slim intern.

"So have you seen any of my matches?"

Josh looks sheepish. He clearly doesn’t know any of Stan Rogers’ matches and doesn’t know what to say.

Don’t worry if you don’t know any, John. Let me tell you about some. There's obviously my memorable match against Georg Hackenschmidt. A real “master versus student” match-up.”

"Oh" says the intern through thinly veiled disinterest.

"Don''t worry, I didn't expect you to know that one. You're a young kid. How about something a bit more modern?"

"Sure."

"Stan Rogers vs. Stu Hart. Calgary, Alberta, Canada. 1949. A classic if I do say so myself. You know how Dave Meltzer gives fives stars to great matches?"

"Yeah."

"Well as well as that, he named his children Lou and Stan after seeing that match. True story."

"Wow, that’s... that’s amazing."

"It is, Joe. It is."

Those simple words just sit there, leaving silence between the wrestler and the intern. Some would see it as awkward. But Stan Rogers doesn’t understand the concept of awkwardness.

“Um, so what do you make of your opponents?”

“Kids. Kids who I don’t care about. I’ve seen wrestlers come and go throughout my career. These punks are no different. I'm an expert in Greco-Roman, freestyle and amateur wrestling. These kids can only do flips.”

“Aren’t you generalising them quite a bit?”

“So what if I am? The fact is, these kids are all going to be in the same boat by the end of the night. The losing boat.”

Rogers chuckles heartily and Josh remains silent as they approach the locker room door. Simple, brown, wooden – it could be any door. But this is the door to a new life for Stan Rogers.

"OK, before you go in you need to know that the guys might be a little hostile, what with you being so different to them. Do you want me to come in and help you get settled? It might take some of the heat off of you."

“I’m a professional, Jack. This is what I’ve done my entire career. I’ve had backstage heat before and I’ve overcome it. I’ll be just fine.”

“OK. Well if you need me, I’ll be down the hall. Good luck.”

“Luck? It may be a clic. I mean, it may be a clichy. It may be a saying, but I don't need luck, Joel.”

Stan Rogers braces himself and enters the locker room. The wrestlers go quiet. Heads start to turn. Looks are exchanged by the other contract contenders. The social awkwardness is at peak. The difference between Rogers and the rest of the younger, smaller wrestlers is painfully obvious. Stan Rogers has arrived in WZCW, and he's arrived to stony silence.

“Let me tell you about the time I wrestled Frank Gotch.”​