Richard Blonoff
Make America Rassle Again
Deadline is Tuesday, August 16th, 11:59PM. Extensions available upon request.
Meltdown Madness 132/Ascension Anarchy 109 [All RPs go here]
- Thread starter Richard Blonoff
- Start date
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Spidey Revivey
Porn is okay here long as it ain't dudes.
"It's a lonely view from the top of the world."
The Library Brawl said:
"You think you're a King sitting on a throne.."
"...but you're really just a man who found a chair."
"When you're on top of the world, only the clouds bare witness to your achievements."
"How the crows laugh at you. How they cackle as they pick through the trail you left behind for them. A warrior without instinct. A recluse without venom."
"Oh how they're all laughing at you now."
He rocked back and forth with his cane in his hand. It had been a very long time since he held Alice, but her voice was still as strong as steel and cut just as deeply. She was goading him to do something rash, he knew. But he didn't care. The Recluse might have won the battle, but the war was a devastating loss. An empty epilogue.
A chapter best left unread.
Ramparte heard the knocking. It had been going on every few hours. Batti Otaku was worried about him. She had even slipped dinner underneath the door; a bowl of raviolis by Chef Boyardee himself. It was left uneaten.
Alice's tone changed from cynical to sympathetic.
"You may not have a kingdom, but the foundation has been built. No one will ignore The Lord of Libraries. But your voice hasn't been heard yet. What will you do?"
He pondered on the question. Kagura robbed him of something he held dear, and she never gave it back. He fought for it fairly, and to the victor the spoils are supposed to go, but in the end there was nothing. Nothing for him. Why? Where was his reward? The geisha laughed. She fucking laughed. The rage was written upon his face...
and with it came the sickness.
He dry-heaved. The bile rose up from his throat and he dropped Alice. She clamored to the wooden floor as he reached his bathroom. Ramparte gagged and then there was black. He retched copious amounts of ink.
Batti: "My cooking isn't that bad, Rammikun!" -_-
The Recluse could hear her signature huff. He spat out the remaining bits into the toilet bowl and flushed it away. He rested his head against the porcelain and closed his eyes.
"What will you do?"
What he wanted to do was get his hands on the Japanese superstar one more time. He relished the thought. The bookworm knew the Roulette Rounds were next and there was a chance that he'd see Kagura on the other side of the ring once again. Nothing in this world would give him more pleasure than to hit The Denouement a second time on the sorceress.
Except...
"What will you do?"
There would be other possibilities. He could find himself reunited with Flex Mussel. Cerberus may even challenge Vis Imperium for the tag team titles. A third reign would break the record. Stranger things have happened.
"What will you do..."
Or maybe other titles were in the cards. He could be facing Titus Avison or Austin Reynolds. Become a flag bearer for either Meltdown or Ascension. Being a singles champion has eluded him for the passed 2 years in WZCW. He didn't want to go down in history as a tag team competitor. There was more to him than that. Gold was the one thing everybody wanted in the company. The opportunity was not something to pass up.
And if it was Garth Black that came down the ramp...
Ramparte opened his eyes. What a beautiful moment it would make for the Ramparte Row, the small but vocal fanbase that attend live shows. The silent reader versus the loud iconoclast. Never has there been two polar opposites.
He stood up and washed his face. The sable residue clung to the rim of the sink like tentacles. They slowly rotated down the drain, desperately trying to latch on to the ivory. He placed his hands on the sides of the sink and gazed into the mirror. It was then that he realized he had been crying.
It wasn't fair. Vengeance was not enough. Ramparte needed serenity.
As the tears dried up, laughter was heard. It came from Kagura. It came from the crows. It came from him. No. He had no wounds to lick. He had won, hadn't he? Ever since Kingdom Come 7 he had faced his adversaries and defeated them. And he would continue to do so, in the Roulette Rounds and even the Lethal Lottery. A smile cracked across his face. From outside his bedroom, Batti cackled. The pair let out a carousel of laughter. He felt the madness rising.
"WHAT WILL YOU DO?!"
He knew what he would do. He would take the fight to whomever came across his path, friend or foe. And then he would be a true king.
Batti: "Fuggem up, Rammikun!"
Ramparte turned on the faucet and the disgusting ink floated away. He turned it off, stepped out of the bedroom and faced his blonde cheerleader.
He kissed her.
One long, soft touch of her lips turned her entire body beet red. She said nothing. He continued to smile his crazed smile and he licked his lips. It had been forever since he licked them, but his old self had now been found. The Catalyst walked away from her and what he had done. His focus had never been more acute.
Nobody was laughing now.
It was time.
Ramparte Row was calling. He needed to face whatever came his way with a thousand furies.
Ramparte: "And I will."
"If you shoot at a king you must kill him." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Hyorinmaru
Sit Upon The Frozen Heavens
The afternoon of Meltdown Madness backstage at the Thomas & Mack Center in Las Vegas Nevada.
Tony takes a sip of water as he sits alone in a darkened locker room, thinking over his life since joining the WZCW roster.
Tony: What the fuck is wrong with me? Before I got here I was beating the shit out of anyone who looked at me cross eyed and was walking away from it, but now I can't win a match to save my life.
All of a sudden the door opens and Gino turns on the light as he stares at Tony.
Gino: What the fuck Ton, I've been looking for you all morning. What the hell are you doing here this early?
Tony: I'm just thinking about everything that's happened the last few months.
Gino: What's to think about? I mean it sucks your parents died. I loved them just as much as you did but sometimes shit happens and you just have to roll with it. Now we need to plan for the roulette shows.
Tony stops drinking his water and stares at Gino like he grew a pair of breasts. He tries to talk but he has trouble finding something to say so he keeps staring at Gino until the words come to him. When they do come the venom can be heard in his voice.
Tony: I just lost my parents and you're telling me I need to roll with it and that we should talk about the roulette shows?
Realizing he said something stupid Gino's eyes widen as he sees the look on Tony's face and silently backs up until he bumps into the lockers behind him.
Tony: What's wrong Gino, I'm not going to hurt you just because you made the most ******ed comment I've ever heard you utter. I'll tell you why I can't just roll with it.
As Tony talks he stands up and kicks the chair out from behind him as he walks slowly towards Gino as his voice gradually gets louder
Tony: I lost my debut match against John Doe and then got put in the Gold Rush Tournament only because people left WZCW, not because they believed I could win. If they hadn't left I would have been on the bottom of the pile. My father expected me to win that tournament. Before me a Mancini never lost something that important.
By this time Tony is right In Gino's face with a dangerous glint in his eyes.
Tony: My mother God rest her soul loved what I was doing because I wanted to do it. It was my father that demanded I win to better the Family and kept demanding that I quit when I kept losing, saying I was an embarrassment. Despite all that, even with our vast difference in opinion when it came to my career he was my father and provided for me and my mother the best way he knew how and I will always be grateful. So no Gino I won't roll with it. My mother is dead and will never see me win a title. I will never be able to change my father's mind, to show him I made the right choice when it came to WZCW. I doubt I'll be getting over their death any time soon
While Tony is talking Gino tries to move away from him but Tony has an arm on either side of him effectively boxing him in. Seeing the glint in Tony's eye he tries to change the subject but chooses the only thing that's worse than his parents death.
Gino: What about Luke Man...
Tony Mancini: What about Luke Manson? Is that really what you were going to ask me? I'll tell you all you anyone needs to know about him. I SHOULD HAVE FUCKING BEAT HIM AT UNSCRIPTED! STREET FIGHT OR LUMBERJACK MATCH I SHOULD HAVE BROKE HIS GODDAMN JAW! HE WOULDN'T EVEN BE HERE IF IT WASN'T FOR MY FATHER! The one person I HAD to beat, not for me or any of these pathetic fans but for my father, the man Luke Manson made a fool out of and he beat me in the most important match of my career. The only positive thing I can say about what happened to my parents is that my father wasn't here to see me lose to the man that treated the Mancini family like a joke.
Tony takes a deep breath and pushes himself off the lockers before he sets up two chairs and motions for Gino to sit as he takes the other chair and stares at the floor.
Tony: Now that all of that is done we can talk about the roulette shows like you wanted. I did a little research on the WZCW Network and checked out past roulette shows. Everything is completely random. I don't know who I'm going to face, the stipulation or even what show I'm going to be on.
Gino goes to speak again but when Tony looks up he quickly closes his mouth and moves the chair back a bit, afraid of the look in Tony's eyes as he whispers dangerously.
Tony: You know what Gino? I'm glad everything is completely random because I don't care. I could face Garth Black for the WZCW World Heavyweight Championship on Meltdown, or Mikey Stormrage in a Parking Lot Brawl on Ascension and I wouldn't give a shit. People have been clamoring for weeks saying I'm not showing enough emotion, that I'm just generic mob muscle and I don't belong in a WZCW ring. Everyone who thinks that better tune in because all this anger and hatred that I have boiling inside me is going to be taken out on whoever is across the ring from me. I hope my opponent isn't someone management has plans for because I promise that whoever it is will not be walking out of that ring under their own power. They wanted a new Tony Mancini? Well they have him and they will come to regret it.
With that Tony bows his head and sits there silently until Gino just gets up and leaves without another word, turning off the light as he leaves the room.
Jeff Deliverer of Mail
Money for nothin, chicks for free
Justin Cooper pushed open the locker room door and threw a towel over his head. Mark Keaton let the door close and stood there for a moment outside the locker room, still vibrating in anger from the loss. A stagehand came by and gave him a pat on the back with a quick good match. He nodded but his mind still swam with the image of Abel Hunnicut holding up his tag team title, good match? That was NOT a good match by any means! What the fuck was that ref doing? Hunnicut was eliminated!
He walked over to catering, he poured a paper cup full of orange juice and sipped it. He eyed a tuna sandwich triangle and thought about grabbing it when he heard a pair of male voices coming from a nearby room.
“….and I TOLD you they’d lose!”
“It’s too bad, I’m a fan of Cooper. He’s got to drop this lazy rookie who’s riding his coattails. He’s just not as good as my man Cooper.”
Mark stormed over to the door and lifted his leg to kick it in, but he hesitated and clobbered a coffee machine off the table instead. He left the building without talking to Cooper or the media.
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FOUR DAYS LATER……
Norman Blip slammed his car door with his elbow, he was balancing a coffee, his cell phone and The Detroit Times in his arms. Justin Cooper pulled up next to him in his rental car. Justin jumped out in a dark blue tracksuit wearing sunglasses and a workout bag.
“Hey Justin,” The face painted man said, “here for a workout with Keaton ya?”
“Yep. Hopefully, cheer the kid up in the process. I hear he’s been in the dumps since Unscripted.”
“I’ve got some news for both of you that’ll cheer him up.”
Mark Keaton sat in his underwear on his couch playing Super Mario Brothers 2 on a retro Nintendo console. He was surrounded by empty chip bags, beer bottles and overflowing ashtrays. Norman and Justin entered his apartment and made room at both ends of the couch.
“Coops, sup man?” Mark’s voice cracked but he didn’t make eye contact with his tag team partner.
“Just came to get a workout in with you Mark. Turn that game off and get some air.”
Mark paused the game and stared at the veteran.
“Trust me when I say I’ve been where you are right now. You have to get up, drop this funk smell off you and prepare for your next challenge. The Roulette Rounds are next, there’s no telling who your opponent could be.”
“Another gimmick crap fest? What is it this time man? We fight in Vegas and people vote on our match or somethin?”
“No,” Justin threw a chip bag in the waste can,
“the card is randomized and you could be fighting anyone at all, could even fight Titus Avison for his championship.”
“Well,” Mark’s mood quickly lightened,“let's get training Coop!”
“I have a better idea. You two need a real test, a real kick in the pants training run. This will test your bond, it will test your teamwork and push you to the limit. I got the two of you on MANTRACKER.” Norman smiled and waited for the applause.
“The fuck?” Mark looked at his manager like he just spit on him.
“Mantracker. This tracker guy and a partner track you guys on horseback and you have to work together to make it to the finish line in a wooded area.”
“I watched the show dude. I’m just sayin, what a dumb idea. Plus I hate that stupid show.”
“I’ve seen the show too. I think it’s a great idea Norm. We can take this Mantracker down and make a fool out of him on television and get a great workout at the same time.”
“Hmm,” Mark rubbed his chin and smiled, “he couldn’t handle two super studs, incredible athletes like us. Well….one super stud and an old man. Ha ha!”
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[YOUTUBE]M5aSxmmTyVY[/YOUTUBE]
This Race takes place in the foothills of Newfoundlands long range mountains. Mark Keaton and Justin Cooper are the prey, they are going to have to run, swim, hike their way to the finish line in a span of 24 miles from Flare to Finish. Mantracker and his assistant must hunt them down and stop them from reaching the finish line any way possible.
Mantracker stats: Real Name : Terry Grant
The Chuck Norris of Canada.
Pro Search and Rescue team.
Assistant Perry Henwich : Local Scout of Newfoundland.
Area expert, historian.
Fisherman.
Horse trainer.
THE PREY
Remarkable Mark Keaton : - Pro Wrestler
- Rocker
- Outdoor level 5
- Indoor level 10
- Retro 80’s
Justin Cooper : - Vet pro wrestler
- Former rap artist
- Unfortunately Australian
- Outdoor level 6
- Indoor level 7
- Says games are a waste of time.
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----DAY ONE -------
Prey
Justin Cooper and Mark Keaton stood in the middle of a dirt path with a wide open view of a rolling, grassy hill to their left and a thick row of trees to their immediate right. Justin was dressed in full camo from a ball cap to shoes and had on a dark green backpack. Mark had on a dark green, sleeveless shirt, dark blue jogging pants and black running shoes, he had the same backpack as Cooper.
“There it is,” Justin pointed to the flare in the sky behind them,“let's go.”
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Mantracker
Mantracker and Perry looked at a view of greenery that stretched into the horizon, it was all trees.
“Where is a good path to start?” Mantracker asked Perry and pointed to two different paths they could travel.
“We can take dis one on de right, it connects a few miles into de path on de left and becomes one path eh. We can travel over Moss Hill down to Cream Stream and stay along dat shallow river. That sounds like a good start tuh me.”
The flare was clearly visible to both trackers. Mantracker made a hee haw noise and both horsemen galloped down the dirt path on the right to start their tracking.
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Prey
Both Cooper and Keaton kept a steady jog down the dirt path. They had a plan that Cooper was going to handle the map and Keaton was going to hold on to the compass and most of the water canteens.
Cooper thought of his heavily bandaged knee. Holding up good, I can give it a good jog but I hope we don’t have to climb a lot of stumps or anything. I don’t think it’ll handle that kind of strain. His medicated knee didn’t require limping just yet and he had kept the secret from Keaton, he didn’t want to blow it here during this - show- with Mantracker.
“How long till you think we’re gonna hit the bushwhacking?” Keaton said as he lit a smoke.
“What are you doing? Put that out! Mantracker will smell that.”
“Bah!” Keaton flicked the smoke into the woods next to him.
“Damn idiot!” Cooper jumped into the woods after the lit smoke, he stomped on it and dug it into the ground to prevent a forest fire.
“Let’s pick up the pace, we can win this in day one kid!” Cooper climbed back on the dirt path and started to run down the path, Keaton let out a laugh and kept pace with the vet.
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Mantracker
“Whoa!” Mantracker held up a hand then climbed off of his horse. He knelt down close to the edge of the dirt path. He was playing with something in the grass and moved it around with his hand. He picked up a brown piece of clay and smelled it, he then took a little bite of it and looked like he was thinking hard. He stood up and looked down the dirt path.
“Tink yuh got sumthin dere boss?”
“According to that Moose dung, nobody human has been in this area in the last few minutes. We might’ve taken the wrong path. Those little shits are probably all the way down to the fork by now.”
“Yuh got all dat from eatun de Moose shit?”
Mantracker looked at Perry sideways and the music became scary. Perry better watch his damn mouth! Mantracker jumped on his horse and they turned around to get back to the other dirt path.
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Prey
Justin Cooper stopped running when they came to a fork in the dirt path. Two paths joined one path that ran a hundred yards until it became three dirt paths that went in opposite directions. He took out the map and read it carefully. Keaton took a drink of Rum from his water canteen.
“Let’s head straight here and go right until we reach Cream Stream.” Cooper folded the map and they were off jogging again down the dirt path.
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NIGHT - Prey - End of Day 1 ---- Hours later --
Several hours of chasing came to a close and Cooper and Keaton set up camp in a clearing under the moonlight. They didn’t run into any trouble with Mantracker or Perry all day. They were super confident and laughing about how easy the show has been so far. Cooper took a rubbing lotion and started furiously rubbing the lotion on his knee.
“Dude! Take it easy, I’m in the same tent, man! At least wait until I go to sleep before you start pulling the goalie!”
“I’m rubbing lotion on my hip so the bugs won’t get me.” Cooper lied in the dark.
“Ya, I believe you. Not!”
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NIGHT - Mantracker - End of Day 1 - Hours later ---
Perry was combing a brush over his horse and talking to it gently, a roaring fire dominated their camp with two tents in the background. Mantracker had his saddle hanging on a clothesline. He stood near the edge of the camp with his binoculars, trying to get a glimpse of a fire or smoke somewhere in the distance. But there was none to be found.
“These little buggers are good. But we’ll get em tomorrow.” He muttered, Perry wasn’t listening as he kept talking silently with his own horse.
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DAY 2 -
Prey
“Whoa! What the hell?” Cooper scrambled to get out of his sleeping bag as the top of the tent was completely engulfed in flames! Keaton grabbed him and they both dove out of the burning tent.
“So much for that tent man! Whew! Shit!” Keaton laughed and took a drink from his canteen.
“What happened?”
“I couldn’t sleep so I stayed up and drank. I lit a fire and then fell asleep on the ground over near the woods. I guess I made the fire too close to the tent.”
“That’s nuts, well….let’s get this fire out before Mantracker sees all the smoke.”
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Mantracker
“See that?” Mantracker pointed to the distance as he put down the binoculars and started strapping his saddle on his horse.
“Yuh! Partly cloudy, could be sum rain.” Perry said as he took a drink and climbed on his own horse.
“No. The smoke. We know where they camped. We need to cover that ground fast, and right now.”
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Prey
Justin Cooper waited while Keaton tied his shoelaces in the middle of the wide open grass hill, his knee was really sore this morning as he pushed it good yesterday. He wasn’t yet limping, but it didn’t feel too far off. They bushwhacked through thick trees and branches until they came out to the main dirt road. Cooper thumbed for them to use the dirt road to keep shortening the distance to the finish line.
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Mantracker
Mantracker was off of his horse again while Perry waited. The expert tracker was laying on his stomach licking a footprint in the grass hill before the tree line.
“It’s still warm, they were here no longer than three minutes ago. One of them was drinking heavily last night, the other one is having problems with his knee.”
He climbed back on his horse and woke up Perry, they charged toward the tree line.
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Prey
“I’m getting hungry dude.” Keaton said as he held his grumbling stomach. They stopped running. Cooper looked around, he then held up a finger.
“Don’t worry, I learned this trick when I lived away from society in a cabin in the woods.” Cooper grabbed a tree branch and snapped it off the tree, he then ripped off a bunch of green leaves off of the same tree. He coiled the branch around the leaves then applied heavy pressure with both hands on the bundle of branch and leaves. A rattling could be heard, Cooper handed Keaton a bag of Lay’s Sour Cream n Onion potato chips.
“Man, thanks! That trick must wow the chicks back home!” Keaton tore into the chips and munched away. He held the chips to the camera and smiled,
“I can’t just eat one!”
“HELLO BOYS!!!” Mantracker yelled really loud, alerting both Keaton and Cooper, giving them ample time to react to the immediate threat posed by two charging horses crashing out of the tree line to their left.
Keaton threw the chips on the ground and dove into a thick bush and down a slope through a bunch of branches. Cooper turned and sprinted in the other direction, dodging trees and stumps as he could hear Mantracker yelling directions at Perry and the horses stomping around the path.
Mantracker and Perry focused their hunt on Keaton as he picked the lighter brush to run to, both horses made their way easily into the trees and Keaton tried his best to distance himself from them.
“Ain’t got a chance, you old fossil!” Keaton yelled and ran out to a wide open area with tall grass. He started running as fast as he could through the grass. The horses made it into the wide open area and quickly caught up to him. Keaton did a roll on the ground and crawled into the tall grass on his hands and knees.
“Give it up!” Mantracker yelled as they circled him with their horses in the tall grass.
When they rode over the area, they were shocked to see that Keaton wasn’t there anymore. He crawled under Perry’s horse and was now running through the trees again towards Cream Stream. Keaton jumped off of the bank and landed awkwardly on his side as he slipped off of a rock under the water. He dropped the compass and his backpack, he watched his backpack float down the stream without him. Both Mantracker and Perry emerged and jumped into the thigh-high stream to chase down Keaton. They surrounded him in the middle of the stream. Keaton smiled and raised his hands in the air.
“You got me! Now prepare to lose as you wasted all this time getting me! Cooper has to be at the finish line by now!”
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Cooper
Cooper limped his way down the main dirt path, a big ring of sweat soaking the front of his camo shirt, his hat long lost and the map balled up in his right hand.
“Puff, I’m done if this isn’t the right…puff….puff…way.” He tried to go a little faster but his knee let out a sharp pain suddenly and he fell on his face right on the dirt path. He rolled on his side and grabbed at his knee, the sweat on his face caused the dirt to stick to it like a thin pancake. The map blew into the woods and got stuck on a high branch, out of reach.
Cooper struggled to stand, he limped hard until he made a turn up ahead in the path. There was a bridge over Cream Stream and the finish line was on the other side.
“There it is!!” Cooper did a fist pump and started to hobble his way towards the bridge. His knee let out another lightning blast of pain and Cooper fell again. He quickly rolled to his side, then sat up holding his knee and groaning.
KA-KLUMP KA-KLUMP KA-KLUMP KA-KLUMP KA-KLUMP!!!!!!!!!!
Cooper’s eyes widened as he heard the two sets of nightmarish horses coming from behind, just out of sight down the dirt path. He crawled on his good knee and elbows but he wasn’t even on the small bridge yet. I have to do this!! I HAVE to win this! Please don’t let the kid see me lose again, he won’t be able to handle it!
Mantracker and Perry rode into sight like a couple of Samurai soldiers on horseback charging into battle, both with stone cold expressions of determination on their faces now.
Cooper grabbed the rail as soon as he reached the bridge, he pulled himself up to his feet and could feel his knee throbbing now.
“Give it up Cooper!” Mantracker yelled as they neared.
“Not today!” Cooper let go of the rail and ran the length of the bridge, he dove at the other end and let out a warrior scream of victory! He rolled in the dirt and started laughing and puffing and hysterically crying all at the same time.
Mantracker and Perry rode up to him, Perry jumped off of his horse and helped Cooper get to his feet.
“That was nothing short of courageous Cooper. Damn fine job.” Mantracker reached from his horse and shook Cooper’s hand.
Mark Keaton watched from a hundred yards away near the edge of a tree line. His eyes narrowed and his anger had returned full force, the two male voices returned to echo in his head, with the last comment burning a hole in his brain like a hot poker…….
“It’s too bad, I’m a fan of Cooper. He’s got to drop this lazy rookie who’s riding his coattails. He’s just not as good as my man Cooper.”
Da Prophet
Mid-Card Championship Winner
The moon peered in through the blinds of the window, they flapped back and forth with the cold breeze drifting into the room. It was only an inch off the bottom of the frame but tonight that was enough. It wasn’t just cold, it was freezing. The stained wood that made up the floorboards tightened, the clothes hanging outside on the clothesline become ice cold and the cup of water on the bedside table returned to a chill. Amidst the cold he remained warm. The sheet on his bed kicked down to the floor, his shirt thrown across the room in the middle of the night as he forced his eyes closed, begging for a reprieve.
It never happened. His brow ran with sweat. His eyes remained opened and the pain was unbearable. The bed was twice his size and the sheets had been made from bamboo, custom fitted to the specifics of the bed. They were warm and soft to the touch but now they stood at the foot of the bed, hanging off the edge towards the floor and the very sight of them made Justin kick furiously. He had removed everything that could warm him and that included his clothes. He laid on his bed naked, peering up at the roof into the black of the night praying for a moment when it didn’t hurt. Just a moment, he told himself.
His body remained warm even as the cold took hold of the room. Tightening its grip and squeezing the heat out from everything except for Justin. He was warm. Yet he still shook. He had been shaking for a few days and each day it become more noticeable. They hadn’t noticed at Unscripted, that he was sure of but now he was struggling to keep up appearances. It was a fight that he believed he was losing and he had no tag partner for this one. Justin closed his eyes, sleep would never come, the pain, oh... the... the pain... it’s...
For a brief moment he slept. A dream was too much to ask for as pain shot through his knee and spread through the rest of his body. Justin’s eyes were closed, he rolled over onto one side and clutched the pillow tightly. Rest.
He woke in the morning with rays of the sun warming the room. He remained warm even without the touch of the brightest star. Justin pushed himself up, seated with his back against the bed frame and wiped sweat from his forehead. His sheets were marked with stains from his nightly torment. Days had come and gone since they had last been changed. He couldn’t do it by himself so each night he laid back down in his own filth and begged for the pain to go away.
Justin glared out the window from his bed, the sky unseen as the large apartment building next door blocked his view. On his bedside table stood a glass of water. The glass smudge with fingerprints, and when lifted into his hand, the table was left with a watermark from where the cup had been these last few days, always returned to the same spot just within his reach. The water ran down his throat as did the painkillers. One, two, three and they were gone. They offered slight relief as the doctor had told him but slowly and not for very long. Justin twisted and shifted himself to the edge of the bed, looked down at his right knee, rubbed his hand over it softly and stood... for a moment.
Pain shot through his entire body and his knee buckled. Down to the floor he went with his head smacking against the hard floorboards. His brow was cut and blood dripped from it immediately.
“Fuck!”
Thump. He pounded the floor in frustration. Naked on the ground and unable to stand without support, is this how they’ll see me now? Justin began to push himself up off the floor but the moment he put weight on his right knee it buckled and he kissed the floorboards a second time. His lip was broken but not for the first time. The bottom lip was covered with cuts from his time in the ring so this was likely to go unnoticed. They wouldn’t be able to shame him.
If they saw him like this it would be shameful. He was a champion. A man who had conquered titans in the ring and now... what was left? A tear fell from his eye and brushed his cheek before hitting the floor. A second came soon after as his face pressed against the floor a third time. No blood was shed on the third however, this time it was gentle and of his own accord. He was defeated. He closed his eyes and slept.
An hour had passed and a knock at the door woke Justin from his sleep. He wiped his eyes clear and lifted his head off the woodwork. Justin turned back towards the bed and reached for the sheets to pull himself back into bed but they were not there. He remembered, the night before he had kicked them to the end of the bed in a fit of heat and torment. A second knock came and soon the door was open.
“Justin, the hell are you?”
He knew that voice.
“It’s Mark. We’ve got an interview to do for the Roulette Rounds.”
Maybe he’d just go away and leave Justin to his misery. That would be best, thought Justin as he remained silent on the floor. He’ll leave and just think I wasn’t home. Justin was wrong. Mark came around the corner and found Justin collapsed on the floor. The bright eyed youngster rushed to his mentor’s aid, grabbed him by the arm and began to lift him off the floor.
“Man, you look like shit,” said Mark Keaton. “You alright?”
“No, put me down!” Justin demanded.
“I’m helping you, dude. Let me get you back onto the bed. Stop fighting!”
Justin refused and punched Mark right in the chest. They struggled for a moment but Justin wriggled free and fell back down to the floor. On his way down he made a grab for the bedside table but his arm simply swept across the top and knocked everything on it to the floor, including the glass of water which smashed against the wall spilling what was left across the floorboards.
Mark ran his fingers through his golden hair. “I was only trying to help.”
Justin looked up at his partner and shook his head. Mark was young, his hair golden like the jewels that covered his fingers and the buttons of his black leather jacket. His ears pierced with diamonds and his paints as tight as they could be without bursting. Champions do get paid well and the kid has an eye for gold. Still, this was no place for him. He shouldn’t have come and seen me like this. I’m supposed to be the leader here.
“You should have called. I would think I’ve earned that courtesy.”
“I did. You didn’t answer and I was worried. After everything that has happened recently, I thought it best if I came over to see how you were doing.” Mark replied. He offered a hand to Justin. “Come on, let me help you.”
Take the hand you old fool. No, he can’t see me being weak. “I don’t need help. I can get up. Argh!”
He tried and failed to stand on his own two feet. He had gotten closer than previously but even the desire of a champion wasn’t enough to overcome the pain in his knee. He began to fall only this time he was caught. Mark grabbed him and held his tag partner up off the floor. He ducked his head and wrapped one of Justin’s arms around his shoulder for support.
“Don’t turn me away, Justin. Let me help.”
Together they got Justin dressed and cleaned up. He hadn’t shaved for a few days and bathing was also forgotten. His face was soft to touch once again, his hair fell elegantly and his teeth no longer felt rough and gross. The bed sheets were changed and the shattered glass cleaned up as was the water that spilt from it. They sat at the kitchen table. Justin sipped on a cup of coffee while Mark searched through the fridge for any sign of food. It was barren. Justin hadn’t been able to shop for over a week and the food that had once called the fridge home had become rotten.
“What have you been eating?” Mark asked with a sense of worry in his voice.
“It’s been a few days. I’ve had water though. I kept a glass and I’ve got a bottle on the other side of the bed which stores a couple of litres.”
“You must be hungry then. Come on, we’ll go get some food.”
Justin put down the coffee and reached for Mark. He lowered his eyes so not to meet the rookie directly. “No. I can’t. I can’t go outside.”
Mark closed the fridge and pulled up a seat at the table. He twisted it around so he sat facing Justin. “Listen, you can’t hide out in hear. We’ve got a job to do and in case you’ve forgotten we’ve got titles we have to get back. John and Abel, you remember them? Those two guys who are runnin’ around with our Tag Team Championships. I should’ve come here sooner, I realise that now... I didn’t know you were feeling this bad.”
“I’m not hiding from nobody. I can barely walk let alone fight. I did my best at Unscripted and you saw what that got us. We lost because I wasn’t one hundred percent. How do you think we’re going to win if I can’t even walk down to the ring?”
“So are we just going to give up?” Mark exclaimed, pounding his fist onto the table. “Is that what this has become? Justin, answer me.”
Justin looked up at Mark. The youngster full of fire, he was ready to fight. The sight of his mentor breaking down before his very eyes haunted the young man just as Justin’s knee haunted him. Partners who both had their own demons to deal with.
“How can I lead this team if I’m not strong?” Justin replied. “I’m supposed to be strong. I’m the veteran and last Sunday I failed you.”
“No you didn’t. You told me we’d meet John and Abel at the door with closed fists and we did just that. We stood before them and fought like our lives were on the line and we’ll do it again. This week is my first time in the Roulette Rounds and I’ve got no idea what’s going on but do you see me hiding away from the challenge? I’m ready for anything because of what you taught me. Now let me teach you something.”
Mark stood up from the table and pushed it away. Without warning he pushed Justin over in his chair and sent his mentor onto his back. Justin rolled and looked up at Mark who crossed his arms and smirked.
“Get up.” Mark demanded.
“The hell are you doing? You’ve gone mad.” Justin yelled back at him.
“You get up off the floor and stand, right now.”
Justin waved his hands. “Please, I can’t do it. Mark, help me up. Please.”
Mark stood silent but his eyes were loud. They dug into Justin’s heart and pulled at whatever was left of the great champion. The rookie was searching for the leader he once called brother. Justin would either stand as that brother or remain on the ground as a man who shared only his name.
“Please, I can’t.”
He got nothing from Mark. He had to try at least. Justin looked down at the wooden floorboards and pressed his hands against them. He pushed and got to one knee, his body shaking. He attempted to reach for something... anything... but nothing was within reach. Mark had pushed him right into the middle of the room. Justin would have to stand on his own. Fight, thought Justin. This was the biggest fight he’d had in a long time. He remembered the sense of shame he felt whilst being stuck in the bed naked and unable to stand. He could still smell the scent of filth from days without washing. He remembered and in that moment promised never to feel so helpless ever again.
He trembled as his right foot pressed against the ground and his body fought against his own will as he put weight on the knee. Mark watched from afar and at one moment, as Justin looked likely to fall, Mark stepped forward to catch him.
“Don’t. I can do this.” Justin said, tears rushing down his face. The pain taking hold but still he stood. Still he refused to break like he had ever since Unscripted.
Mark took a step back and watched as Justin stood proudly. Justin wiped his cheeks and a small smile broke out on his face. The two partners looked up and both knew what was next. Justin didn’t need to be told. He did it on his own. He took a step. Then he took another and soon he was walking. He made it to Mark and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Mark answered.
They exchanged a smile. Justin took another step towards door and opened it up. His knee still ached badly but for now he had overcome it. Not by himself as he had tried for days but with the help of his brother. Only with the help of Mark Keaton had he overcome what he thought would be his end.
“Roulette Rounds did you say?” Justin asked.
“Indeed. Care to explain what’s possible during this thing?”
Justin turned back to his brother and chuckled.
“Anything is possible.”
It never happened. His brow ran with sweat. His eyes remained opened and the pain was unbearable. The bed was twice his size and the sheets had been made from bamboo, custom fitted to the specifics of the bed. They were warm and soft to the touch but now they stood at the foot of the bed, hanging off the edge towards the floor and the very sight of them made Justin kick furiously. He had removed everything that could warm him and that included his clothes. He laid on his bed naked, peering up at the roof into the black of the night praying for a moment when it didn’t hurt. Just a moment, he told himself.
His body remained warm even as the cold took hold of the room. Tightening its grip and squeezing the heat out from everything except for Justin. He was warm. Yet he still shook. He had been shaking for a few days and each day it become more noticeable. They hadn’t noticed at Unscripted, that he was sure of but now he was struggling to keep up appearances. It was a fight that he believed he was losing and he had no tag partner for this one. Justin closed his eyes, sleep would never come, the pain, oh... the... the pain... it’s...
For a brief moment he slept. A dream was too much to ask for as pain shot through his knee and spread through the rest of his body. Justin’s eyes were closed, he rolled over onto one side and clutched the pillow tightly. Rest.
He woke in the morning with rays of the sun warming the room. He remained warm even without the touch of the brightest star. Justin pushed himself up, seated with his back against the bed frame and wiped sweat from his forehead. His sheets were marked with stains from his nightly torment. Days had come and gone since they had last been changed. He couldn’t do it by himself so each night he laid back down in his own filth and begged for the pain to go away.
Justin glared out the window from his bed, the sky unseen as the large apartment building next door blocked his view. On his bedside table stood a glass of water. The glass smudge with fingerprints, and when lifted into his hand, the table was left with a watermark from where the cup had been these last few days, always returned to the same spot just within his reach. The water ran down his throat as did the painkillers. One, two, three and they were gone. They offered slight relief as the doctor had told him but slowly and not for very long. Justin twisted and shifted himself to the edge of the bed, looked down at his right knee, rubbed his hand over it softly and stood... for a moment.
Pain shot through his entire body and his knee buckled. Down to the floor he went with his head smacking against the hard floorboards. His brow was cut and blood dripped from it immediately.
“Fuck!”
Thump. He pounded the floor in frustration. Naked on the ground and unable to stand without support, is this how they’ll see me now? Justin began to push himself up off the floor but the moment he put weight on his right knee it buckled and he kissed the floorboards a second time. His lip was broken but not for the first time. The bottom lip was covered with cuts from his time in the ring so this was likely to go unnoticed. They wouldn’t be able to shame him.
If they saw him like this it would be shameful. He was a champion. A man who had conquered titans in the ring and now... what was left? A tear fell from his eye and brushed his cheek before hitting the floor. A second came soon after as his face pressed against the floor a third time. No blood was shed on the third however, this time it was gentle and of his own accord. He was defeated. He closed his eyes and slept.
An hour had passed and a knock at the door woke Justin from his sleep. He wiped his eyes clear and lifted his head off the woodwork. Justin turned back towards the bed and reached for the sheets to pull himself back into bed but they were not there. He remembered, the night before he had kicked them to the end of the bed in a fit of heat and torment. A second knock came and soon the door was open.
“Justin, the hell are you?”
He knew that voice.
“It’s Mark. We’ve got an interview to do for the Roulette Rounds.”
Maybe he’d just go away and leave Justin to his misery. That would be best, thought Justin as he remained silent on the floor. He’ll leave and just think I wasn’t home. Justin was wrong. Mark came around the corner and found Justin collapsed on the floor. The bright eyed youngster rushed to his mentor’s aid, grabbed him by the arm and began to lift him off the floor.
“Man, you look like shit,” said Mark Keaton. “You alright?”
“No, put me down!” Justin demanded.
“I’m helping you, dude. Let me get you back onto the bed. Stop fighting!”
Justin refused and punched Mark right in the chest. They struggled for a moment but Justin wriggled free and fell back down to the floor. On his way down he made a grab for the bedside table but his arm simply swept across the top and knocked everything on it to the floor, including the glass of water which smashed against the wall spilling what was left across the floorboards.
Mark ran his fingers through his golden hair. “I was only trying to help.”
Justin looked up at his partner and shook his head. Mark was young, his hair golden like the jewels that covered his fingers and the buttons of his black leather jacket. His ears pierced with diamonds and his paints as tight as they could be without bursting. Champions do get paid well and the kid has an eye for gold. Still, this was no place for him. He shouldn’t have come and seen me like this. I’m supposed to be the leader here.
“You should have called. I would think I’ve earned that courtesy.”
“I did. You didn’t answer and I was worried. After everything that has happened recently, I thought it best if I came over to see how you were doing.” Mark replied. He offered a hand to Justin. “Come on, let me help you.”
Take the hand you old fool. No, he can’t see me being weak. “I don’t need help. I can get up. Argh!”
He tried and failed to stand on his own two feet. He had gotten closer than previously but even the desire of a champion wasn’t enough to overcome the pain in his knee. He began to fall only this time he was caught. Mark grabbed him and held his tag partner up off the floor. He ducked his head and wrapped one of Justin’s arms around his shoulder for support.
“Don’t turn me away, Justin. Let me help.”
Together they got Justin dressed and cleaned up. He hadn’t shaved for a few days and bathing was also forgotten. His face was soft to touch once again, his hair fell elegantly and his teeth no longer felt rough and gross. The bed sheets were changed and the shattered glass cleaned up as was the water that spilt from it. They sat at the kitchen table. Justin sipped on a cup of coffee while Mark searched through the fridge for any sign of food. It was barren. Justin hadn’t been able to shop for over a week and the food that had once called the fridge home had become rotten.
“What have you been eating?” Mark asked with a sense of worry in his voice.
“It’s been a few days. I’ve had water though. I kept a glass and I’ve got a bottle on the other side of the bed which stores a couple of litres.”
“You must be hungry then. Come on, we’ll go get some food.”
Justin put down the coffee and reached for Mark. He lowered his eyes so not to meet the rookie directly. “No. I can’t. I can’t go outside.”
Mark closed the fridge and pulled up a seat at the table. He twisted it around so he sat facing Justin. “Listen, you can’t hide out in hear. We’ve got a job to do and in case you’ve forgotten we’ve got titles we have to get back. John and Abel, you remember them? Those two guys who are runnin’ around with our Tag Team Championships. I should’ve come here sooner, I realise that now... I didn’t know you were feeling this bad.”
“I’m not hiding from nobody. I can barely walk let alone fight. I did my best at Unscripted and you saw what that got us. We lost because I wasn’t one hundred percent. How do you think we’re going to win if I can’t even walk down to the ring?”
“So are we just going to give up?” Mark exclaimed, pounding his fist onto the table. “Is that what this has become? Justin, answer me.”
Justin looked up at Mark. The youngster full of fire, he was ready to fight. The sight of his mentor breaking down before his very eyes haunted the young man just as Justin’s knee haunted him. Partners who both had their own demons to deal with.
“How can I lead this team if I’m not strong?” Justin replied. “I’m supposed to be strong. I’m the veteran and last Sunday I failed you.”
“No you didn’t. You told me we’d meet John and Abel at the door with closed fists and we did just that. We stood before them and fought like our lives were on the line and we’ll do it again. This week is my first time in the Roulette Rounds and I’ve got no idea what’s going on but do you see me hiding away from the challenge? I’m ready for anything because of what you taught me. Now let me teach you something.”
Mark stood up from the table and pushed it away. Without warning he pushed Justin over in his chair and sent his mentor onto his back. Justin rolled and looked up at Mark who crossed his arms and smirked.
“Get up.” Mark demanded.
“The hell are you doing? You’ve gone mad.” Justin yelled back at him.
“You get up off the floor and stand, right now.”
Justin waved his hands. “Please, I can’t do it. Mark, help me up. Please.”
Mark stood silent but his eyes were loud. They dug into Justin’s heart and pulled at whatever was left of the great champion. The rookie was searching for the leader he once called brother. Justin would either stand as that brother or remain on the ground as a man who shared only his name.
“Please, I can’t.”
He got nothing from Mark. He had to try at least. Justin looked down at the wooden floorboards and pressed his hands against them. He pushed and got to one knee, his body shaking. He attempted to reach for something... anything... but nothing was within reach. Mark had pushed him right into the middle of the room. Justin would have to stand on his own. Fight, thought Justin. This was the biggest fight he’d had in a long time. He remembered the sense of shame he felt whilst being stuck in the bed naked and unable to stand. He could still smell the scent of filth from days without washing. He remembered and in that moment promised never to feel so helpless ever again.
He trembled as his right foot pressed against the ground and his body fought against his own will as he put weight on the knee. Mark watched from afar and at one moment, as Justin looked likely to fall, Mark stepped forward to catch him.
“Don’t. I can do this.” Justin said, tears rushing down his face. The pain taking hold but still he stood. Still he refused to break like he had ever since Unscripted.
Mark took a step back and watched as Justin stood proudly. Justin wiped his cheeks and a small smile broke out on his face. The two partners looked up and both knew what was next. Justin didn’t need to be told. He did it on his own. He took a step. Then he took another and soon he was walking. He made it to Mark and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Mark answered.
They exchanged a smile. Justin took another step towards door and opened it up. His knee still ached badly but for now he had overcome it. Not by himself as he had tried for days but with the help of his brother. Only with the help of Mark Keaton had he overcome what he thought would be his end.
“Roulette Rounds did you say?” Justin asked.
“Indeed. Care to explain what’s possible during this thing?”
Justin turned back to his brother and chuckled.
“Anything is possible.”
Richard Blonoff
Make America Rassle Again
Deadline has been extended by 24 hours.
Prince Vee
Better than I think I am
All State Arena
Immediately after Unscripted
The room was dark, very dark not a glimpse of light can be seen. The humidity was quite high; sweat pebbling down his body as Vee stands behind the door of that dark room. He stood there with his head bowed down and arms stretched, hands resting against the door. Sweat rolls down his forehead and wets the floor where he stood. His mind is completely empty, so was the entire arena. So it was, throughout the biggest match of his career. Not his girlfriend, not his parents, not the fans literally not anyone that he wanted to were present during that match. It maybe not be a humiliation match, but Vee felt humiliated; gravitated before the legendary Titus Avison.
Sounds of few footsteps echoed outside the room where he stands. It gets louder and louder each second as if someone was closing in. More footsteps are heard much and it sounds more like more than one person is approaching the room. Vee raises his head and stand straight, before he can stand leaning against the door.
Vee: (through the door) I dont want to give any more interviews right now. You just can get out of here before I lose my temper.
The footsteps stop at his door. Silence succeeds the moment before a soft knock was heard on the door.
???: Hunny, its just me Sara.
Another silence follows; he moves his hand to the door knob, but the guilt of the loss dissuades him to not. Sara stands close to the door in grieve; places her hand on the frame.
Vee: (through the door) Take my parents with you and go back to England
He couldnt say anymore words. Saras eyes had turned wet; blood flushed her cheek to make them red too. But she knows and understands her boyfriend more than anyone. She doesnt say a word either. The footsteps start to disappear outside the room; inside, Vee stands against the door with her head arched back. The agony of loss took over him completely. He was unsure how he will get through this. Loses arent new for him, infact it had made him the person who he is. But this one is different. This one felt like me made his entire family lose.
Sara walks out of the arena to the car parking, where she sees a WZCW production vehicle stops. Out comes Johnny Klamor with a cameraman and they both rushes into the arena. Kalmor stopped at Sara whilst the cameraman searches for his equipment inside his bag.
Klamor: Where is Vee? Tonight he arranged for an exclusive interview with me, with his entire family by his side. Im sorry, its unfortunate that he had lost. Ill just go and have a formal interview with him instead.
Sara whips off a pebble of tear with her forehand and looks up at Klamor.
Sara: Do me a favour, please? Cancel this interview. This really isnt the nice time to interview him.
Klamor: I wish I can help you. But you know this whole production thing and were on live Television. There already is a time allotted for an interview with Vee after his match. I cant take the grief of the production heads.
Sara: You need an interview, right? Ill represent Vee. You can interview me instead. Ill speak for him.
Klamor contemplates briefly, before turning his head to the cameraman. The cameraman immediately runs the camera and set the lightings right.
Klamor: In what said to be a bizarre match, Titus Avison somehow retains the Eurasian Championship. He used the surrounding to his advantage and made Vee A.D.Z., to tap out. Vee A.D.Z. is not with us here at this moment but his girlfriend Sara is going to represent him.
Sara breathes out a little and adjusts her throat before commencing to talk.
Sara: Im not going to talk about Vees loss here. Because he wouldnt like that. However, I take this as an opportunity to address something very important. So far, Vee has been chained in as the #1Contendor for the Eurasian Championship. But now, he has the whole world to take over. Yes, he lost his Eurasian Championship match; that doesnt take out who he is, though. He still is one of the greatest technical wrestlers to step in for WZCW.
Klamor: Youre absolutely right about his opportunity in the forthcoming weeks, especially with the Roulette rounds around the corner. Nonetheless, dont you think the loss will hurt him. I mean, it seems like he doesnt want to be interviewed.
Sara smiles a little and looks inside that dark arena. She then turns to the camera with her everlasting smile.
Sara: Everyone has a reason to mourn. A person who doesnt exhibit his feelings cant be a real man. My boyfriend is a real man. He is sad, angry and livid of himself; thats true. That doesnt mean itll keep him down forever. I had seen him fell down many a times and get back up stronger than ever before. The thing is, he expresses his feelings out and that makes him strong. In a nutshell, eventually he will get over this loss.
Klamor: How does his parents take this personally?
Sara: I wont say how theyre feeling personally. What I have got to say is, they are absolutely gutted with the empty arena stipulation.
Klamor: Seeing his son tapping out in front of their own eyes is less bad than watching it on the screen, isnt it?
Sara: No, youre wrong. Youre seeing this from a wrong perception. My boyfriends family is not what you think. They are this breed of hardworking people. Loss is not a real loss unless it stops you. This isnt going to stop Vee from winning championships in WZCW. This isnt going to stop his parents from being able to celebrate with him. This hasnt taken the pride away from them. There nothing really is a loss, unless you stop and let that be your last attempt for success. Vee wont stop until he succeeds. I promise you; youll see a much strong willed Vimal Adzenhan, your Vee A.D.Z. Thank you.
With that she finishes the interview and scurries to her car. She has no remorse for leaving her boyfriend alone at present, he needs her but he wants to be alone. Its better to give him what he wants rather than what he needs as of now.
Klamor: So thats all what we got here, folks. Im Johnny Klamor signing off from the All State Arena!
.
An hour later All State Arena
Vee had sat on the floor behind that door for almost an hour. The wind blows hard outside arena which makes the tree to totter wildly. One of its branches hit the widow breaking the glass frame. Vee scoots up to his feet and looks at the crack. The street light sends its bright illuminous waves through the split in the dark glass frame and forms shadows on either side of Vee. He closes his eyes and rubs his forehead before turning to either of his sides to see his shadows. A bizarre feeling creeps through his mind as both the shadows shows a little difference than his actual self. The wind blows through the crack in the window; some voices lurk through his ears.
Vimal: Lost! Lost! Lost!
Vee Alias: Stop being an arse! Is this how you unveil your presence?
Vee: I thought things cant get any worse than this. Guess what? Youre back.
Vee smiles to himself whilst looking at the far end of the room where the shadow stands.
Vee Alias: Ha! He thinks he never needs us. Let it be that way. Consider this as a little courtesy from your conscience. We cant let you be alone and spoil your ingenious mind with insanity. I mean, look at you! Sitting in a dark room for an hour or more is going to wash that shame off your face?
Vimal: We take care of that part in you, insanity. In return, we bother you. We come uninvited but when were needed.
Vee: I agree; this will do nothing credible. I also agree that the presence of you both really help me to walk through this whole maniacal world. But at the same time, your presence made me question my sanity.
He cups his face under his palm and adjusts his hair behind his ears. Then he rubs his forehead and not looking at the shadows. He closes his eyes to let the voices talk through his head.
Vee Alias: Oh, youre sane. Everybody needs somebody to talk to. Everyone has their own voices inside their head. Youre so sane and ingenious that you let us talk to you. Were just your subconscious.
Vimal: Let your sorrows to be with us. Today weve come here for a very special purpose.
Sometimes these voices make much more sense than the rest of the world which let Vee to talk with them patiently. Theyre smarter than he is and empathetically superior to him. But they never had some real purpose but tonight was different.
Vee Alias: Well tell you a very short story. A short remembrance from who you really are and where you come from. Something you dont want to accept.
Vimal: Remember the time you first moved out of India to England?
Vee: Yes, I was 5 years old. I was watching cartoons when dad came in with a good news that he got a job in England and were moving away in a couple of weeks. I have no idea how England looks like.
He smiles as he still remembers that moment. His eidetic memory helps him picture those moments in real.
Vee Alias: And your father brought out an Atlas to explain you where England is. He also showed you the pictures of how England looks like. You were very excited to hear that England always will be cold and damp unlike the place you were at that time, which is extremely hot!
Vimal: Foolishly, you went to every kid and gloat about your dads job and told them all that youre going to be a BRITISH. Silly!
Vee: HA!
There is a long silence as if the voices had disappeared. Vee opens his eyes to see the shadows still stands there. They both seem like staring at him.
Vee: Go on. Im listening.
Vimal: The first thing you said when you landed on England is, Mommy, its very cold. I dont like this weather. How ironic! You wished to be in a cold place throughout your entire life but when you got one you disliked it! You didnt understand the accent they spoke. And the kids in your school were from all over England! Lancashire, Yorkshire, Nottinghamshire, Surrey and everywhere. Each of them talked in a peculiar way and you started hating yourself so much that you couldnt be them.
Vee Alias: But the truth is, they never could be you. Youre one of a kind and you forgot that when you got there. The people around you, in your school or your neighbourhood, they were never as good as you. Take it as wrestling, cricket, academics or anything, they were never better. It took you few years to recover your true-self.
Vees face shrunk as the story goes on. He remembers everything, very clearly. The pictures of him spending sleepless nights in the cold bed passes across his eyes.
Vee: What are you trying to infer?
Vimal: The story is over, Matey. Because you know the ending.
Vee Alias: Remember, keep bringing miracles before peoples eyes. Else theyll forget how good you are!
Vee looks to his sides. The shadows arent there anymore. A tree branch on the outside covers the crack and stops the light from getting through. The room is pitch black again. Vee stands baffled in the middle of that dark room.
Vee: You cant leave without telling me the end of it!
But the voices didnt reply. He stands there patiently for a moment of two. He understands its just a waste of time to be waiting for something that isnt real. He walks to the door; opens it. The bright light of the aisle flashes on his face. It revels him with a very special memory.
Vee: I know why and how that story ended! EXPECTATIONS! That story ended when I stopped expecting things and started to make those expectations real!
He starts to walk down the aisle; tapping the wall on his way out.
Vee: I expected too much to happen at once and when it didnt, I just walked the way the road goes. Thats what exactly happened earlier tonight as well. I was prepared so much for my parents to be at my side when it didnt happen I danced to Titus fiddle. He knew what I was expecting.
He reaches the locker room and grabs his hoody and takes it on.
Vee: Expect the unexpected. Infact; it refers directly to the next Roul
Just when he was about to walk out of the room he hears Saras voice on television from the common locker room.
Sara: (from television) He is sad, angry and livid of himself; thats true. That doesnt mean itll keep him down forever. I had seen him fell down many a times and get back up stronger than ever before.
He walks to the room where the sound comes from. He gets to the television; rests his hands on his side and looks up at it.
Sara: (from television) This hasnt taken the pride away from them. There nothing really is a loss, unless you stop and let that be your last attempt for success. Vee wont stop until he succeeds. I promise you; youll see a much strong willed Vimal Adzenhan, your Vee A.D.Z. Thank you.
Klamor: (from television) So thats all what we got here, folks. Im Johnny Klamor signing off from the All State Arena!
TV Presenter: (from television) Thats one of the highlights of the night and this youre watching the exclusive of Unscripted 2016. Join us after the commercial break as we discuss Garth Blacks championship victory and more importantly the mysterious duo that interfered during the Main Event.
Vee smiles to himself and takes his phone. He started typing something as he walks to the car park.
.
Chicago International Airport
Sara sits there calmly in the boarding room; her phone vibrates inside her purse. She takes it out to see the message from her boyfriend. Her face brightens and she quickly unlocks to tap on the notification.
Saras face blossomed like a bright sunflower and she grabs her phone and turns to the direction if Vees parents whore sitting next to her with Mrs. Adzenhan laying her head on Mr. Adzenhans shoulders. She shows them the message on the phone and huge smiles formed across their face.
The screen fades to black.
.
The room was dark, very dark not a glimpse of light can be seen. The humidity was quite high; sweat pebbling down his body as Vee stands behind the door of that dark room. He stood there with his head bowed down and arms stretched, hands resting against the door. Sweat rolls down his forehead and wets the floor where he stood. His mind is completely empty, so was the entire arena. So it was, throughout the biggest match of his career. Not his girlfriend, not his parents, not the fans literally not anyone that he wanted to were present during that match. It maybe not be a humiliation match, but Vee felt humiliated; gravitated before the legendary Titus Avison.
Sounds of few footsteps echoed outside the room where he stands. It gets louder and louder each second as if someone was closing in. More footsteps are heard much and it sounds more like more than one person is approaching the room. Vee raises his head and stand straight, before he can stand leaning against the door.
Vee: (through the door) I dont want to give any more interviews right now. You just can get out of here before I lose my temper.
The footsteps stop at his door. Silence succeeds the moment before a soft knock was heard on the door.
???: Hunny, its just me Sara.
Another silence follows; he moves his hand to the door knob, but the guilt of the loss dissuades him to not. Sara stands close to the door in grieve; places her hand on the frame.
Vee: (through the door) Take my parents with you and go back to England
He couldnt say anymore words. Saras eyes had turned wet; blood flushed her cheek to make them red too. But she knows and understands her boyfriend more than anyone. She doesnt say a word either. The footsteps start to disappear outside the room; inside, Vee stands against the door with her head arched back. The agony of loss took over him completely. He was unsure how he will get through this. Loses arent new for him, infact it had made him the person who he is. But this one is different. This one felt like me made his entire family lose.
Sara walks out of the arena to the car parking, where she sees a WZCW production vehicle stops. Out comes Johnny Klamor with a cameraman and they both rushes into the arena. Kalmor stopped at Sara whilst the cameraman searches for his equipment inside his bag.
Klamor: Where is Vee? Tonight he arranged for an exclusive interview with me, with his entire family by his side. Im sorry, its unfortunate that he had lost. Ill just go and have a formal interview with him instead.
Sara whips off a pebble of tear with her forehand and looks up at Klamor.
Sara: Do me a favour, please? Cancel this interview. This really isnt the nice time to interview him.
Klamor: I wish I can help you. But you know this whole production thing and were on live Television. There already is a time allotted for an interview with Vee after his match. I cant take the grief of the production heads.
Sara: You need an interview, right? Ill represent Vee. You can interview me instead. Ill speak for him.
Klamor contemplates briefly, before turning his head to the cameraman. The cameraman immediately runs the camera and set the lightings right.
Klamor: In what said to be a bizarre match, Titus Avison somehow retains the Eurasian Championship. He used the surrounding to his advantage and made Vee A.D.Z., to tap out. Vee A.D.Z. is not with us here at this moment but his girlfriend Sara is going to represent him.
Sara breathes out a little and adjusts her throat before commencing to talk.
Sara: Im not going to talk about Vees loss here. Because he wouldnt like that. However, I take this as an opportunity to address something very important. So far, Vee has been chained in as the #1Contendor for the Eurasian Championship. But now, he has the whole world to take over. Yes, he lost his Eurasian Championship match; that doesnt take out who he is, though. He still is one of the greatest technical wrestlers to step in for WZCW.
Klamor: Youre absolutely right about his opportunity in the forthcoming weeks, especially with the Roulette rounds around the corner. Nonetheless, dont you think the loss will hurt him. I mean, it seems like he doesnt want to be interviewed.
Sara smiles a little and looks inside that dark arena. She then turns to the camera with her everlasting smile.
Sara: Everyone has a reason to mourn. A person who doesnt exhibit his feelings cant be a real man. My boyfriend is a real man. He is sad, angry and livid of himself; thats true. That doesnt mean itll keep him down forever. I had seen him fell down many a times and get back up stronger than ever before. The thing is, he expresses his feelings out and that makes him strong. In a nutshell, eventually he will get over this loss.
Klamor: How does his parents take this personally?
Sara: I wont say how theyre feeling personally. What I have got to say is, they are absolutely gutted with the empty arena stipulation.
Klamor: Seeing his son tapping out in front of their own eyes is less bad than watching it on the screen, isnt it?
Sara: No, youre wrong. Youre seeing this from a wrong perception. My boyfriends family is not what you think. They are this breed of hardworking people. Loss is not a real loss unless it stops you. This isnt going to stop Vee from winning championships in WZCW. This isnt going to stop his parents from being able to celebrate with him. This hasnt taken the pride away from them. There nothing really is a loss, unless you stop and let that be your last attempt for success. Vee wont stop until he succeeds. I promise you; youll see a much strong willed Vimal Adzenhan, your Vee A.D.Z. Thank you.
With that she finishes the interview and scurries to her car. She has no remorse for leaving her boyfriend alone at present, he needs her but he wants to be alone. Its better to give him what he wants rather than what he needs as of now.
Klamor: So thats all what we got here, folks. Im Johnny Klamor signing off from the All State Arena!
.
An hour later All State Arena
Vee had sat on the floor behind that door for almost an hour. The wind blows hard outside arena which makes the tree to totter wildly. One of its branches hit the widow breaking the glass frame. Vee scoots up to his feet and looks at the crack. The street light sends its bright illuminous waves through the split in the dark glass frame and forms shadows on either side of Vee. He closes his eyes and rubs his forehead before turning to either of his sides to see his shadows. A bizarre feeling creeps through his mind as both the shadows shows a little difference than his actual self. The wind blows through the crack in the window; some voices lurk through his ears.
Vimal: Lost! Lost! Lost!
Vee Alias: Stop being an arse! Is this how you unveil your presence?
Vee: I thought things cant get any worse than this. Guess what? Youre back.
Vee smiles to himself whilst looking at the far end of the room where the shadow stands.
Vee Alias: Ha! He thinks he never needs us. Let it be that way. Consider this as a little courtesy from your conscience. We cant let you be alone and spoil your ingenious mind with insanity. I mean, look at you! Sitting in a dark room for an hour or more is going to wash that shame off your face?
Vimal: We take care of that part in you, insanity. In return, we bother you. We come uninvited but when were needed.
Vee: I agree; this will do nothing credible. I also agree that the presence of you both really help me to walk through this whole maniacal world. But at the same time, your presence made me question my sanity.
He cups his face under his palm and adjusts his hair behind his ears. Then he rubs his forehead and not looking at the shadows. He closes his eyes to let the voices talk through his head.
Vee Alias: Oh, youre sane. Everybody needs somebody to talk to. Everyone has their own voices inside their head. Youre so sane and ingenious that you let us talk to you. Were just your subconscious.
Vimal: Let your sorrows to be with us. Today weve come here for a very special purpose.
Sometimes these voices make much more sense than the rest of the world which let Vee to talk with them patiently. Theyre smarter than he is and empathetically superior to him. But they never had some real purpose but tonight was different.
Vee Alias: Well tell you a very short story. A short remembrance from who you really are and where you come from. Something you dont want to accept.
Vimal: Remember the time you first moved out of India to England?
Vee: Yes, I was 5 years old. I was watching cartoons when dad came in with a good news that he got a job in England and were moving away in a couple of weeks. I have no idea how England looks like.
He smiles as he still remembers that moment. His eidetic memory helps him picture those moments in real.
Vee Alias: And your father brought out an Atlas to explain you where England is. He also showed you the pictures of how England looks like. You were very excited to hear that England always will be cold and damp unlike the place you were at that time, which is extremely hot!
Vimal: Foolishly, you went to every kid and gloat about your dads job and told them all that youre going to be a BRITISH. Silly!
Vee: HA!
There is a long silence as if the voices had disappeared. Vee opens his eyes to see the shadows still stands there. They both seem like staring at him.
Vee: Go on. Im listening.
Vimal: The first thing you said when you landed on England is, Mommy, its very cold. I dont like this weather. How ironic! You wished to be in a cold place throughout your entire life but when you got one you disliked it! You didnt understand the accent they spoke. And the kids in your school were from all over England! Lancashire, Yorkshire, Nottinghamshire, Surrey and everywhere. Each of them talked in a peculiar way and you started hating yourself so much that you couldnt be them.
Vee Alias: But the truth is, they never could be you. Youre one of a kind and you forgot that when you got there. The people around you, in your school or your neighbourhood, they were never as good as you. Take it as wrestling, cricket, academics or anything, they were never better. It took you few years to recover your true-self.
Vees face shrunk as the story goes on. He remembers everything, very clearly. The pictures of him spending sleepless nights in the cold bed passes across his eyes.
Vee: What are you trying to infer?
Vimal: The story is over, Matey. Because you know the ending.
Vee Alias: Remember, keep bringing miracles before peoples eyes. Else theyll forget how good you are!
Vee looks to his sides. The shadows arent there anymore. A tree branch on the outside covers the crack and stops the light from getting through. The room is pitch black again. Vee stands baffled in the middle of that dark room.
Vee: You cant leave without telling me the end of it!
But the voices didnt reply. He stands there patiently for a moment of two. He understands its just a waste of time to be waiting for something that isnt real. He walks to the door; opens it. The bright light of the aisle flashes on his face. It revels him with a very special memory.
Vee: I know why and how that story ended! EXPECTATIONS! That story ended when I stopped expecting things and started to make those expectations real!
He starts to walk down the aisle; tapping the wall on his way out.
Vee: I expected too much to happen at once and when it didnt, I just walked the way the road goes. Thats what exactly happened earlier tonight as well. I was prepared so much for my parents to be at my side when it didnt happen I danced to Titus fiddle. He knew what I was expecting.
He reaches the locker room and grabs his hoody and takes it on.
Vee: Expect the unexpected. Infact; it refers directly to the next Roul
Just when he was about to walk out of the room he hears Saras voice on television from the common locker room.
Sara: (from television) He is sad, angry and livid of himself; thats true. That doesnt mean itll keep him down forever. I had seen him fell down many a times and get back up stronger than ever before.
He walks to the room where the sound comes from. He gets to the television; rests his hands on his side and looks up at it.
Sara: (from television) This hasnt taken the pride away from them. There nothing really is a loss, unless you stop and let that be your last attempt for success. Vee wont stop until he succeeds. I promise you; youll see a much strong willed Vimal Adzenhan, your Vee A.D.Z. Thank you.
Klamor: (from television) So thats all what we got here, folks. Im Johnny Klamor signing off from the All State Arena!
TV Presenter: (from television) Thats one of the highlights of the night and this youre watching the exclusive of Unscripted 2016. Join us after the commercial break as we discuss Garth Blacks championship victory and more importantly the mysterious duo that interfered during the Main Event.
Vee smiles to himself and takes his phone. He started typing something as he walks to the car park.
.
Chicago International Airport
Sara sits there calmly in the boarding room; her phone vibrates inside her purse. She takes it out to see the message from her boyfriend. Her face brightens and she quickly unlocks to tap on the notification.
Saras face blossomed like a bright sunflower and she grabs her phone and turns to the direction if Vees parents whore sitting next to her with Mrs. Adzenhan laying her head on Mr. Adzenhans shoulders. She shows them the message on the phone and huge smiles formed across their face.
The screen fades to black.
.
The two men who have aligned to form Vis Imperium stand front and centre. On the left, the cruel and bloodthirsty “The Elite” Steven Holmes. On the right, the twisted, devious “Power Trip” John Constantine. Here and now, we see the newly crowned Tag Team Champion alongside the manager of his partner as the brain centre of Vis Imperium combine once more to plot their next step.
Constantine: “I still can’t believe it Steven.”
Holmes: “You doubted me?”
Constantine: “Not you sir. I had my doubts about him.”
We see Constantine and Steven Holmes observe Austin Reynolds as he works out fiercely in an empty room. The space ahead is a state of the art gym, devoid of many details, with clean white walls and equipment on a coal black mat flooring.
Constantine: “Because let’s face facts. Austin was broken when you picked him up. We somehow manage to put him back together to get him back into something resembling a competitive state and yet on his return to the ring he goes on a tear, picks up the Elite championship and is proving to be impossible for anyone to beat.”
Constantine glances over at the championship in the rough looking bag that Austin put on a nearby chair prior to his workout.
Constantine: “But if we forget all that we have done, Austin would never have been able to put a run like this together before his break. He’s returned with a surprising mental resolve that I didn’t know he was capable of. We have truly lucked out.”
Holmes: “We’ve earned this John. Do not doubt it. This experiment with Austin is paying off better than we could have expected. We now have another fully-fledged weapon in our ranks and it is to our benefit. We now hold two of the great championships in WZCW and we are now truly the dominant force.”
Constantine: “Come on, you didn’t expect Austin of all people to be leading the charge.”
Holmes: “Of course not. But I am delighted that Austin is proving to be worth every penny of our investment.”
Constantine: “He’s far from the finished product. He could be a bit leaner. He’s a bit soft in the mid-section. Imagine what he could do if he got off the booze and back to full fitness.”
Holmes: “The key with Austin is us keeping him on a leash. We’re not paying to keep Austin in a life of luxury; we are paying to keep his ex-wife and kids out of his life. That is where the true value is. He’s too embarrassed to go back to them and she is au-fait with the money keep him out of their life.”
Constantine: “So we can maintain the illusion of something to fight for? Dastardly.”
Holmes: “Oh it’s hardly like we’re tricking him. I mean, he knows what’s going on but we’re just keeping the strings out of his way so we don’t trip him up. He’s fully committed to the cause, of that I have no doubts but it’s a means to a different ends for him.”
Constantine: “That he has been able to beat Theron, Cooper and Taylor with not an ounce of our assistance will only help this new-found confidence. But he still has an air of delicacy about him and if he loses his title on a computer generated whim then Christ only knows what that will do to him.”
Voice: “Tea, boys?”
The tall, sophisticated presence of Celeste Crimson-Holmes comes in, leading a pair of maids who are delivering an elegant spread. Constantine licks his lips but Holmes is ignorant as he observes their charge through the mirrored glass.
Constantine: “Wonderful, just wonderful!”
He picks up a finger sandwich and gulps it down easily. Celeste stands next to Steven and observes Austin.
Constantine: “Cheese and pickle, delicious.”
Celeste: “He’s working awfully hard.”
Steven says nothing but a small barely audible murmur of acknowledgement emanates from his throat. Celeste pours out three cups of tea from a large silver pot.
Celeste: “He seems to be deliberately overexerting himself. Is he OK?”
Holmes: “How do you mean?”
Celeste: “He’s just won that championship in a very hard-fought match and instead of resting, he’s pounding the gym?”
Constantine: “He’s just dedicated to the cause, tis all.”
Celeste: “Don’t be naïve John. He is no more committed than you or Abel and you two are using your rest days. He’s been down here for what, an hour?”
Holmes: “Over two actually and he’s not stopped.”
Constantine: “It’s impressive actually. I didn’t know he had this sort of thing in him.”
Celeste: “All I’m saying is that there is something else driving him. If I had to guess, I’d suggest that it is outside of your own respective reaches.”
Holmes: “He’s fine.”
Celeste: “No dear. I am certain that Austin right now is far from happy. I used to work out like that all of the time. With that intensity but it’s not borne out of anything positive.”
The triumvirate watch on quietly.
Celeste: “Have either of you thought to talk to him?”
Holmes: “No.”
Constantine: “Why?”
Celeste: “Because if he carries on like this, he’ll hurt himself.”
Celeste places her tea cup down and leaves the space, leaving the men of Vis Imperium in her wake. As she enters the gym she grabs a towel and a bottle of water that had been discarded on a running machine and walks over to him as he pounds away on a punching bag.
Celeste: “Austin, you are most certainly working up a sweat.”
Austin barely acknowledges her presence and he lands a jab, jab, cross combination on the mat. She get in closer and whispers.
Celeste: “The boys can’t see it, what’s driving you. But I can see it as clear as day. You need to focus on something more positive, what you have rather than what you don’t.”
He doesn’t let up. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn that the strikes were only increasing in power and tempo.
Celeste: “You’re the Elite Openweight Champion; you’re on one hell of a winning run and part of one of the most dominant groups in WZCW history. But above all you get to approach the Roulette rounds in form that no one can match. Vis Imperium could get a World Heavyweight Championship match. Hell Austin it could be you, you may well be the one to represent the group as World Champion and that really would put you on another level.”
Celeste changes her tone from complimentary and positive to firm and insistent.
Celeste: “You see, I know you can see the positives. You’re not stupid after all. So stop this now.”
It almost becomes maternal, like a put-upon mother addressing a child. She reaches out and catches a fist, deflecting it from its’ target. It breaks the focus of the man in front of her and causes him to finally look at her. Austin is helpless to betray his own exhaustion, she immediately hands him the towel and water.
Celeste: “Those two can’t stop congratulating each other, talking about the positives, that they can’t see the negatives; I can. As good as you have been, as happy as you have made my husband; I can see that you’re addicted; desperate and incomplete. You’ve tried so hard to mask these vulnerabilities that you’ve become a parody of the man that you were.”
Austin is barely able to look at through the towel that he draped over his head but Celeste appears certain that this is sinking in.
Celeste: “So here you are; a sham of your former self yet you’ve found near unprecedented success. It’s so obvious that you are broken but you can’t repair these wounds.”
Austin drags the towel off his face, taking the time to take another wipe of his perspiring brow.
Reynolds: “So Mrs Holmes, please enlighten me. What’s the key?”
Celeste: “Accept it. Use it for find that other part of yourself. Your addiction is to the success that Vis Imperium has given you so embrace it. You’ve tried to hate it but you just can’t. Stop fighting it and maybe it will have a different effect to what you expect.”
Suddenly their conversation is interrupted by the presence of Holmes and Constantine.
Holmes: “Now dear, discussing battle strategies?”
Celeste: “No better time than before the Roulette Rounds, eh Austin?”
Austin is pensive, considering the advice that was dispensed to him. Only the mention of his name drags him back to reality.
Reynolds: “Yeah sure. Everyone is sure to start throwing out their luck metaphors like pitches at a baseball game.”
Celeste: “Darling I had thought that given Austin is helping Vis Imperium so efficiently, I thought it would be time to get him set up; on his feet properly.”
Austin perks up slightly but hides it behind a large gulp of water. Holmes is less impressed but Constantine seems OK with it.
Constantine: “A fine idea indeed Celeste. I think we can sort something appropriate.”
Celeste: “A property of his own would be the ideal first step to ensure Austin can be a parent to his children, a responsible father figure in their lives. A great man outside of the ring can make a greater man inside it.”
Holmes: “Hmmm, well we have seen what effect paternal abandonment can have on a child. We can’t very well stand aside and see it happen again can we?”
Reynolds: “I’m grateful of course but I don’t want charity. I just want to prove myself.”
Constantine: “What better chance to prove yourself than at a time where everything is on the line?”
Holmes: “I doubt that Austin needs any additional motivation, not for this round at least.”
Reynolds looks up at Holmes. There was no resentment, no resistance; the look in his face with the briefest of grins was that of conformity. He knows what is expected of him now.
Reynolds: “I know that this could be the most unpredictable time of the year. It’s time to show that we don’t need fortune tellers. Vis Imperium means we can make our own luck and to hell with everyone else. You two wanted to take WZCW to task, to dominate it? Unscripted was just the start.”
Austin walks away. Celeste looks on with admiration. Constantine smirks and Holmes just stands there, leaning on his cane.
Constantine: “I feel sorry for whoever he faces.”
Holmes: “I’ll call Abel in. He’ll feel right at home in the hell we’re going bring.”
Constantine: “I still can’t believe it Steven.”
Holmes: “You doubted me?”
Constantine: “Not you sir. I had my doubts about him.”
We see Constantine and Steven Holmes observe Austin Reynolds as he works out fiercely in an empty room. The space ahead is a state of the art gym, devoid of many details, with clean white walls and equipment on a coal black mat flooring.
Constantine: “Because let’s face facts. Austin was broken when you picked him up. We somehow manage to put him back together to get him back into something resembling a competitive state and yet on his return to the ring he goes on a tear, picks up the Elite championship and is proving to be impossible for anyone to beat.”
Constantine glances over at the championship in the rough looking bag that Austin put on a nearby chair prior to his workout.
Constantine: “But if we forget all that we have done, Austin would never have been able to put a run like this together before his break. He’s returned with a surprising mental resolve that I didn’t know he was capable of. We have truly lucked out.”
Holmes: “We’ve earned this John. Do not doubt it. This experiment with Austin is paying off better than we could have expected. We now have another fully-fledged weapon in our ranks and it is to our benefit. We now hold two of the great championships in WZCW and we are now truly the dominant force.”
Constantine: “Come on, you didn’t expect Austin of all people to be leading the charge.”
Holmes: “Of course not. But I am delighted that Austin is proving to be worth every penny of our investment.”
Constantine: “He’s far from the finished product. He could be a bit leaner. He’s a bit soft in the mid-section. Imagine what he could do if he got off the booze and back to full fitness.”
Holmes: “The key with Austin is us keeping him on a leash. We’re not paying to keep Austin in a life of luxury; we are paying to keep his ex-wife and kids out of his life. That is where the true value is. He’s too embarrassed to go back to them and she is au-fait with the money keep him out of their life.”
Constantine: “So we can maintain the illusion of something to fight for? Dastardly.”
Holmes: “Oh it’s hardly like we’re tricking him. I mean, he knows what’s going on but we’re just keeping the strings out of his way so we don’t trip him up. He’s fully committed to the cause, of that I have no doubts but it’s a means to a different ends for him.”
Constantine: “That he has been able to beat Theron, Cooper and Taylor with not an ounce of our assistance will only help this new-found confidence. But he still has an air of delicacy about him and if he loses his title on a computer generated whim then Christ only knows what that will do to him.”
Voice: “Tea, boys?”
The tall, sophisticated presence of Celeste Crimson-Holmes comes in, leading a pair of maids who are delivering an elegant spread. Constantine licks his lips but Holmes is ignorant as he observes their charge through the mirrored glass.
Constantine: “Wonderful, just wonderful!”
He picks up a finger sandwich and gulps it down easily. Celeste stands next to Steven and observes Austin.
Constantine: “Cheese and pickle, delicious.”
Celeste: “He’s working awfully hard.”
Steven says nothing but a small barely audible murmur of acknowledgement emanates from his throat. Celeste pours out three cups of tea from a large silver pot.
Celeste: “He seems to be deliberately overexerting himself. Is he OK?”
Holmes: “How do you mean?”
Celeste: “He’s just won that championship in a very hard-fought match and instead of resting, he’s pounding the gym?”
Constantine: “He’s just dedicated to the cause, tis all.”
Celeste: “Don’t be naïve John. He is no more committed than you or Abel and you two are using your rest days. He’s been down here for what, an hour?”
Holmes: “Over two actually and he’s not stopped.”
Constantine: “It’s impressive actually. I didn’t know he had this sort of thing in him.”
Celeste: “All I’m saying is that there is something else driving him. If I had to guess, I’d suggest that it is outside of your own respective reaches.”
Holmes: “He’s fine.”
Celeste: “No dear. I am certain that Austin right now is far from happy. I used to work out like that all of the time. With that intensity but it’s not borne out of anything positive.”
The triumvirate watch on quietly.
Celeste: “Have either of you thought to talk to him?”
Holmes: “No.”
Constantine: “Why?”
Celeste: “Because if he carries on like this, he’ll hurt himself.”
Celeste places her tea cup down and leaves the space, leaving the men of Vis Imperium in her wake. As she enters the gym she grabs a towel and a bottle of water that had been discarded on a running machine and walks over to him as he pounds away on a punching bag.
Celeste: “Austin, you are most certainly working up a sweat.”
Austin barely acknowledges her presence and he lands a jab, jab, cross combination on the mat. She get in closer and whispers.
Celeste: “The boys can’t see it, what’s driving you. But I can see it as clear as day. You need to focus on something more positive, what you have rather than what you don’t.”
He doesn’t let up. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn that the strikes were only increasing in power and tempo.
Celeste: “You’re the Elite Openweight Champion; you’re on one hell of a winning run and part of one of the most dominant groups in WZCW history. But above all you get to approach the Roulette rounds in form that no one can match. Vis Imperium could get a World Heavyweight Championship match. Hell Austin it could be you, you may well be the one to represent the group as World Champion and that really would put you on another level.”
Celeste changes her tone from complimentary and positive to firm and insistent.
Celeste: “You see, I know you can see the positives. You’re not stupid after all. So stop this now.”
It almost becomes maternal, like a put-upon mother addressing a child. She reaches out and catches a fist, deflecting it from its’ target. It breaks the focus of the man in front of her and causes him to finally look at her. Austin is helpless to betray his own exhaustion, she immediately hands him the towel and water.
Celeste: “Those two can’t stop congratulating each other, talking about the positives, that they can’t see the negatives; I can. As good as you have been, as happy as you have made my husband; I can see that you’re addicted; desperate and incomplete. You’ve tried so hard to mask these vulnerabilities that you’ve become a parody of the man that you were.”
Austin is barely able to look at through the towel that he draped over his head but Celeste appears certain that this is sinking in.
Celeste: “So here you are; a sham of your former self yet you’ve found near unprecedented success. It’s so obvious that you are broken but you can’t repair these wounds.”
Austin drags the towel off his face, taking the time to take another wipe of his perspiring brow.
Reynolds: “So Mrs Holmes, please enlighten me. What’s the key?”
Celeste: “Accept it. Use it for find that other part of yourself. Your addiction is to the success that Vis Imperium has given you so embrace it. You’ve tried to hate it but you just can’t. Stop fighting it and maybe it will have a different effect to what you expect.”
Suddenly their conversation is interrupted by the presence of Holmes and Constantine.
Holmes: “Now dear, discussing battle strategies?”
Celeste: “No better time than before the Roulette Rounds, eh Austin?”
Austin is pensive, considering the advice that was dispensed to him. Only the mention of his name drags him back to reality.
Reynolds: “Yeah sure. Everyone is sure to start throwing out their luck metaphors like pitches at a baseball game.”
Celeste: “Darling I had thought that given Austin is helping Vis Imperium so efficiently, I thought it would be time to get him set up; on his feet properly.”
Austin perks up slightly but hides it behind a large gulp of water. Holmes is less impressed but Constantine seems OK with it.
Constantine: “A fine idea indeed Celeste. I think we can sort something appropriate.”
Celeste: “A property of his own would be the ideal first step to ensure Austin can be a parent to his children, a responsible father figure in their lives. A great man outside of the ring can make a greater man inside it.”
Holmes: “Hmmm, well we have seen what effect paternal abandonment can have on a child. We can’t very well stand aside and see it happen again can we?”
Reynolds: “I’m grateful of course but I don’t want charity. I just want to prove myself.”
Constantine: “What better chance to prove yourself than at a time where everything is on the line?”
Holmes: “I doubt that Austin needs any additional motivation, not for this round at least.”
Reynolds looks up at Holmes. There was no resentment, no resistance; the look in his face with the briefest of grins was that of conformity. He knows what is expected of him now.
Reynolds: “I know that this could be the most unpredictable time of the year. It’s time to show that we don’t need fortune tellers. Vis Imperium means we can make our own luck and to hell with everyone else. You two wanted to take WZCW to task, to dominate it? Unscripted was just the start.”
Austin walks away. Celeste looks on with admiration. Constantine smirks and Holmes just stands there, leaning on his cane.
Constantine: “I feel sorry for whoever he faces.”
Holmes: “I’ll call Abel in. He’ll feel right at home in the hell we’re going bring.”
Bernkastel
Reaper of Miracles
Deep into the darkness my laughter sunk. Feared by all; or so I thought. Ramparte had no fear in his eyes as he stood against me at Unscripted. I knew my chances of defeating him were slim. I had created a monster too powerful for myself to slay. I was only natural that hed want to seek revenge. After all I stole his intellect and his voice. The man can speak no longer, and I got exactly what I wanted
preservation.
I survived
For all of Rampartes efforts I still retain his voice. I told him numerous times that merely defeating me wasnt going to be enough to break my curse. Perhaps he didnt believe me. Perhaps he thought that by beating me that hed store balance. I had grim news for him. This wasnt a fairy tale with a happy ending were evil falls and the good people live happily ever after. No, this was a nightmare. I brought it on us both, Ramparte and I. At Unscripted I paid my price, but as I sure he figured it out already, Ramparte had already paid his.
And so I disappeared, back into the darkness, plotting my next move. Where do I go from here?
Good question
With the Lethal Lottery on the horizon, it afforded me ample opportunity. It was impossible for me to predict my future. My clairvoyance could only see one path for me, and that was survival. That didnt necessarily mean victory or defeat. With so many possibilities at hand I could be walking into a tag match with two other partners, or I could be fighting for the WZCW world championship. But at the end all I could see was my survival. If my feud with Ramparte should teach any of my future opponents is that I cannot be destroyed. I will not go away. The sound of laughter from a voice that I stole should be a constant reminder of that.
I clutched my cursed book bestowed upon me by the primordial kami themselves to my side and asked.
What should I take from my next victim?
I survived
For all of Rampartes efforts I still retain his voice. I told him numerous times that merely defeating me wasnt going to be enough to break my curse. Perhaps he didnt believe me. Perhaps he thought that by beating me that hed store balance. I had grim news for him. This wasnt a fairy tale with a happy ending were evil falls and the good people live happily ever after. No, this was a nightmare. I brought it on us both, Ramparte and I. At Unscripted I paid my price, but as I sure he figured it out already, Ramparte had already paid his.
And so I disappeared, back into the darkness, plotting my next move. Where do I go from here?
Good question
With the Lethal Lottery on the horizon, it afforded me ample opportunity. It was impossible for me to predict my future. My clairvoyance could only see one path for me, and that was survival. That didnt necessarily mean victory or defeat. With so many possibilities at hand I could be walking into a tag match with two other partners, or I could be fighting for the WZCW world championship. But at the end all I could see was my survival. If my feud with Ramparte should teach any of my future opponents is that I cannot be destroyed. I will not go away. The sound of laughter from a voice that I stole should be a constant reminder of that.
I clutched my cursed book bestowed upon me by the primordial kami themselves to my side and asked.
What should I take from my next victim?
The Legend Of Theron
A Link To The Win
A Link To The Win
Scene fades in to a line of tents in a desert village. Most of the tents are red although one of them, much larger than the rest, is purple. There is also a bunch of tall grass around the purple tent. Blackjack Theron the Kokiri Hero has traveled with his ally Diamond the Gerudo Thief to a Gerudo settlement within the land of Faerule to seek information on his randomly determined match at the next set of gladiatorial events from Chaos Sorcerors, the masters of the random, in Hint Tents in a courtyard at the Gerudo settlement. Angle zooms in to the entrance of the courtyard the tents are in, and we saw a spiky haired figure dressed in green tunic enter the courtyard. It is Blackjack Theron. Next to Theron is a dark tanned man with red hair and blue clothing. This is Diamond, Theron's ally. Diamond is a Gerudo Thief who speaks in a somewhat Guldovian accent, which is similar to common speak, but he says "CHA" instead of "you". Above the two heroes is a large banner hung between two pillars that reads "HINT TENTS" in large letters.
Theron: Now that we've arrived in your homeland, the realm of the Gerudo, the first objective is to find out who my next opponent is. Is this the right place?
Diamond: You betCHA! The wisdom thatCHA seek surely must be here. If anyone knows the secret of who CHA are facing at Burnup Badness or Elevation Excitement, it will be one of the Chaos Sorcerors in the Hint Tents.
Theron looks around at the many red tents, then at the purple one for a moment. He keeps looking at the big purple tent, then over to face Diamond.
Theron: Why's that one purple?
Diamond: I actually do not know. That one was not here back when I last came here. Why donCHA go find out? Just do beware whatCHA ask, Chaos Sorcerors are very random.
Theron: Couldn't hurt. Here goes!
He walks into the first red tent he sees. Inside is an old man with a long white beard in a red robe.. The Old Man is sitting on a pillow on the floor, with his head facing down.
Theron: Hi. I hear you may have some information on who I may be facing in battle soon. I'm wondering if you'd be able to tell me exactly who that is, considering it is a randomly determined contest.
The Old Man, who had been facing the floor, looks up at Theron and the two make eye contact.
Old Man Red: Michelangelo Tempest Hates Certain Kind Of Sound!
Theron: So I'm facing Michelangelo Tempest, huh? I faced him last year at this event. Should be a fun rematch. What kind of match are we competing in, another Weapon Store Brawl?
Old Man Red: Michelangelo Tempest Hates Certain Kind Of Sound!
The Hero raises an eyebrow.
Theron: Is that all you can say....?
Old Man Red: Michelangelo Tempest Hates Certain Kind Of Sound!
Confusion quickly turns to frustration on Theron's facial expression. Old Man Red keeps staring at Theron with a straight face.
Theron: Yeah, you're no help.
Old Man Red: Michelangelo Tempest Hates Certain Kind Of Sound!
Blackjack Theron exits the tent and looks at Diamond, who laughs.
Diamond: I toldCHA they were weird! Try another one!
With a shoulder shrug, Theron goes inside the red tent to the right of the one he was just in a moment ago. Inside is a man in a blue robe, with a white beard resembling the Old Man Red from the other tent. This old man is leaning up against the wall, in between two torches that are lit. The old man is looking at the left wall of the tent.
Theron: Hey. So I was wondering if you could let me know who my next opponent is.
The old man looks over at Theron and speaks.
Old Man Blue: Kaiser Dislikes Smoke.
Theron: Kaiser, eh? Maybe it's Kaiser and Kain Nectarslice against myself and a myster partner.... Do I get a tag team partner in this match, and will Kaiser's Tag Team Championship be on the line? Maybe they'd have me team up with Lucien Montesanto again.... And what makes you think Kaiser doesn't like smoke?
A moment of silence passes, then Old Man Blue responds.
Old Man Blue: Kaiser Dislikes Smoke.
Theron: Lovely. You're as useless as the other guy was.
He exits the tent and walks over to Diamond.
Theron: I thought you said these tents were informative.
Diamond: Why donCHA try one more?
Theron: Fine, but if this one has another old man trolling me with pointless one liners, we're gonna try something else.
Diamond: They aren't trolling. It's cryptic messages.
The thief sidekick's remark is met with an eyeroll from Theron, before the hero goes into the tent next to the one that Old Man Blue was in. Inside he finds a man with a green robe and a long white beard as long as the other two. This old man is looking at an owl statue which is to his right.
Theron: Hey.... Would you be able to tell me who my next opponent will be?
The old man turns away from the statue, and looks at Theron with a straight face.
Old Man Green: Go To The Next Tent.
Theron: No, I'm asking you. Who am I fighting in my next match?
Old Man Green: Go To The Next Tent.
The frustration is building up in Theron, who facepalms and makes a fist with both hands.
Theron: Forget the cryptic nonsense, just tell me! My friend said you guys supposedly know everything!
Old Man Green: Go To The Next Tent.
Theron: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time.
The Natural 21 turns to exit the tent with a groan as Old Man Green faces the owl statue again. Theron exits the tent while grumbling to himself. Once outside, Theron entertains the thought that Old Man Green may actually have truly HAVE had a cryptic message for him. He looks to the tent next to Old Man Green's. It just happens to be the big purple tent with all the tall grass surrounding it, the largest tent and also the only one in the whole Hint Tent courtyard that isn't red.
Theron: Hmmmm.... Maybe that old man was on to something after all.
Upon walking past the tall grass surrounding the purple tent, Theron finds a blue rupee. He puts it in his bag of holding and enters the purple tent. The first thing he notices are that there are three doors. The left door has a sign that reads "Civic - Magenta Chaos Sorceress", the middle door has sign that reads "Kayak - Golden Chaos Sorceror", and the door on the right has a sign that reads "Racecar - Purple Chaos Sorceor". Theron opens the middle door and enters the chamber. Inside he sees an old man in a golden robe, with yet another long white beard like the others had.
????: Need some help? If you're looking for information on randomly determined events then I guarantee you I have it.... for the right price.... Name's Kayak the Gold, but you can just call me Kayak.
Theron: Alright, Kayak.... I'm looking to find out who I will be fighting at the next gladiatorial event. I was advised that the Chaos Sorcerors here know the answer, but so far I have been met with meaningless one-liners. I'm going to play along here and assume you don't just say that exact same thing again when I ask you this question. Who's my next opponent?
Kayak: Need some help? If you're looking for information on randomly determined events then I guarantee you I have it.... for the right price.... Name's Kayak the Gold, but you can just call me Kayak.
Theron: Oh you have GOT to freaking be kidding me. Does every old man in this town say only one THING!? What's the next one going to say, "I'm a farmer"!?
The golden Chaos Sorceror bursts into laughter for a couple of seconds then takes a deep breath and responds to Theron.
Kayak: Ahhhhh! Got you! No, those guys in the red tents prefer the cryptic format with no other actual hints, but I can say other things. In fact, I say all sorts of random things. Same goes for my brother and sister who are in the chambers to my left and right. Then there's our cousin sdrawkcaB who lives down in the basement and speaks backwards, but trust me, you don't wanna talk to him. Anyway, the four of us in our family speak more than one cryptic line.
Theron: Well, that's a relief. So.... The next show that I'm going to be in a battle at is one that is randomly determined. I'll either be on a show called Burnup Badness or another one called Elevation Excitement. Could you tell me who my opponent will be? My friend Diamond, a Thief who hails from these lands, said you have the answer.
Kayak: I do have the answer you seek. I don't answer questions for free though. It'll cost you. How many rupees do you have?
After a quick peek in his bag of holding, Theron notices the blue rupee he picked up outside Kayak's tent is the only currency he has on him at the moment.
Theron: Just a blue one.
Kayak: That's worth 5. You need at least a thousand more before I could reveal information of THAT magnitude, I mean, come on. This is the Gladiator Shuffle. A randomly determined special round, generated by my brother Racecar himself. Us Chaos Sorcerors have to be able to make a living too you now. We can't all have great paying jobs with full time benefits like The Narrator from Doctor Anderson's RP.
Theron: Who....?
Kayak: That Dr Anderson RP Narrator owes me big time too. I told him I would help him stop the descriptive paragraphs from going on strike if he simply named me as his beneficiary, but NO! So much for that trade. Those two specific descriptive paragraphs are probably NEVER coming back now.
Blackjack scratches his head.
Theron: What are you TALKING about....?
Kayak: Irrelevant. Either pay me 1,005 rupees or try one of the others in this tent. My sister Civic is on the left but might I warn you, her accent is very weird. There's also my brother Racecar in the chamber on the right, he's the one who legitimately generated the battle card, but I hear you two have some bad history. Lastly there is our backwards speaking cousin downstairs but, there's that whole talking backwards thing. I'm your best chance. Trust me.
Theron: We'll see about that.
He exits Kayak's chamber and walks back into the first room, opening the door on the left to Civic's chamber. Inside he sees a pink haired female sorceress wearing a magenta robe.
Civic: Hollo. Mo nomo's Covoc Tho Mogonto Choos Sorcoross. Os thoro somo onformotoon thot yoo sook?
Theron: What....?
Civic: Osk mo yoor qoostoon ond thon O woll govo yoo tho hont yoo noodod. O know thot yoo bottlod N Tho Nocromoncor ond Tho Cottong Tool long ogo os woll os Mocholongolo Tompost lost yoor. Wont mo to toll yoo who yoo bottlo thos yoor?
Theron: I... don't understand your accent.... I think I heard you say "long ago" but the rest sounded like it was like another language.
Civic: Yooh no ono ovor ondorstonds mo. Os ot roolly thot toogh? O jost soffor from o condotoon thot torns ovory vowol on ovory word thot o soy, woth tho oxcoptoon of "Y", onto on "O"....
Theron: Yeah.... sorry.... I'm gonna try the other guy. Thanks though!
Civic: Porhops yoo woll ondorstond Rococor or Koyok moro cloorly thon mo. Good lock ond goodbyo.
He exits Civic's chamber and is back in the first room with the three doors. He looks over at the door on the right.
Theron: Kayak said I have bad history with this guy. Wait a second.... Racecar....? No, it can't POSSIBLY be the same guy.... Can it?
He carefully opens the door on the right to Racecar's chamber. He sees a Chaos Sorceror in a purple robe with a red beard speaking to another traveler, a merchant wearing an orange hood. Theron listens to the conversation.
Racecar: Sure I'll tell you the names of the competitors I placed in random matches. I do this every year, you know, young warrior NPC!
Hooded Guy: So tell me. I'm looking to sell out the entire arena, but I have to inform the townspeople of who is fighting. I want information on the featured competitors of both nights, Burnup and Elevation. Give me Burnup's list first.
The hooded merchant takes out a piece of paper and a pen, ready to write down the match card.
Racecar: Ok.... So on Burnup we got Who's in the first match, I Have No Idea for the second match, Nobody's in the third match, then we got Somebody in the fourth match, When's the main event, and-
Hooded Guy: Whoa, just a second. Nobody....? What happened to the third match? Who was supposed to be in the third match?
Racecar: No. Who is fighting first.
Hooded Guy: No, you tell ME who is fighting first.
Racecar: Yes.
Hooded Guy: Ah, Yes. That makes perfect sense. Yes is that new rookie rumored to be making his debut. What a better way to start off the event than with the first ever match of Yes!
Racecar: No. Yes isn't cleared to compete and therefore will not be at this event. Otherwise I would have put him in the fourth match against Somebody or in the third match against Nobody.
The hooded merchant throws his pen at the wall and screams angrily.
Theron: (Voice-over) Yep, same guy. I feel sorry for the hooded man. A year ago I was in a very similar conversation with Racecar and goodness, it was not worth it. If Racecar made the randomly generated match card again this year then I can rest assured it will be random.... but I refuse to put up with his ridiculous mind games. Civic's accent is impossible to decipher.... Guess I'm stuck with Kayak then.
The Hero reluctantly goes back inside Kayak's chamber.
Kayak: I knew you'd be back. Couldn't understand Civic could you? No one can. She and I were practicing spells once and we had just learned the random nature of Chaos Sorcery. With no knowledge of the outcome she had me cast a spell on her. It ended up being a spell that changed her manner of speaking to where every vowel of every word she says, with the exception of "Y", gets turned into an "O". Could be worse though. I could have turned her into the number "38". Instead of being an attractive pink haired caster with a bizarre speaking manner, she'd instead be a big "3" and a big "8" next to each other. Wouldn't that be weird? It's happened before to my uncle Otto. He got turned into the number 38 by my Mom once back when THEY were practicing Chaos casting in a similar situation to my sister Civic and I. Always expect the unexpected with us Chaos Sorcerors!
Theron: Yeah.... Nothing your sister said made sense under that accent spell. Also, I've dealt with Racecar before. I'd rather try your agreement instead. I don't know where I'll find a thousand more rupees at this time though.
Kayak: You could always cut down all the tall grass outside my tent. Feel free to keep any rupees that you might find under it.
Theron: Seriously? I don't have time for that.... Fine. If that's the only way I find out my opponent, then so be it. I want to have an advantage going into the battle, I'd know who the opponent is but they wouldn't know they are facing me. Guess I'll go cut the grass down outside then.
He begins to leave but Kayak stands up before Theron gets to the front of the entrance to the chamber.
Kayak: Wait.... It's dangerous to go alone out there. You better take this with you.
Kayak throws Theron a Kokiri Sword, Theron turns around in time to see it and catches it by the hilt.
Theron: Looks a bit basic, but for grass cutting it should work fine.
Kayak: The reference clearly went over your head, kiddo.
Theron: Huh?
Kayak: Forget it. Don't come back without the Rupees. I'll be in here doing all sorts of random mysterious Chaos Sorceror stuff. If you finish the task fast enough I might just reveal to you the stipulation of your match too.... that's the full extent of the details of your match information for only 2,005 rupees. I'll tell you all about your match when you give me the rupees. Or maybe I won't tell you anything and I'd just take the rupees and run. Or maybe I summon a Meteor that destroys this whole town. Or, better yet, I might just sit here eating a sandwich while telling you a story about an empty box named Larry who is friends with a pencil named Iggy. Never can tell what you'll get with us Chaos Sorcerors, we're so random! Oh, one last thing. I lost my collector's edition Yoshi Doll, can't find it anywhere. Let me know if you find it out there.
Theron exits the purple tent. Outside we see Diamond walking around with his iTome out, looking for monsters to catch via the popular application "CompartImp stART". Theron begins cutting down all the tall grass with the Kokiri Sword. Among the remains of the tall grass he finds some Arrows, Seeds, and most importantly he also finds over four thousand rupees. He also finds a Yoshi Doll. Theron looks at it and and grins for a moment, before placing the Yoshi Doll in his bag of holding.
Theron: Look what we have here....
The Thief turns off his iTome and walks over to Theron.
Diamond: DidCHA find whatCHA needed?
Theron: I have enough rupees to purchase the information that the Chaos Sorceror inside wants, but I don't trust the guy. I have a better idea. I'm keeping this Yoshi Doll, the Kokiri Sword he lent me, and all the rupees I found too. Here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna go on either Burnup Badness or Elevation Excitement, whichever one Racecar randomly put me on, and I win my match. Then I use all these rupees I just found to take Kirilah Heart on a date to celebrate.
Diamond: There's a nice restarant owned by a Zora in town thatCHA could take her to. ThinkCHA will win?
Theron: Absolutely. It could be tag team match with a mystery partner where we win against Kaiser and Kain for the Tag Team Championship. It could be a triple threat elimination match where the winner gets to enter as one of the final entrants in the Risky Raffle. Maybe I end up facing Neil Ranger and win back my Extra Life that he's holding. It might be a 2 on 1 handicap match where I team up with another gladiator to face against Antonio Manoosko. Or perhaps I face my former hero Tidarthian and take his Global Championship which I once held. It's possible I could get picked to face Augustus Redlands and end his Expert Championship reign far earlier than he ever thought it would end. Heck, I could even potentially get randomly placed in a match with Garr Fahl and shock the world by winning the World Gladiatorial Heavyweight Championship for the second time without even having the top contendership status for it. I'm ready to win no matter WHO it is or what the stipulation is!
The Gerudo sidekick claps happily at the thought of Theron winning a title by random chance, then he leans up against the purple tent, which they are still standing by.
Diamond: That certainly would be brilliant if they putCHA in a title match thatCHA were to win! What about the Chaos Sorceror, didCHA make a deal with him? And whatCHA gonna do with that Yoshi Doll?
Theron: He asked me to give him that Yoshi Doll if I found it, but how do I know he won't trick me and take the rupees without giving me my match information? Chaos Sorcerors aren't the only ones who can do something unexpected. I'm keeping it all including the doll. Maybe I'll trade it for something cooler from the Zoras when I'm at the restarant with Kirilah Heart. That jerk wanted his doll back? Change of plans. Just like this round of shows, The Gladiator Shuffle. It always changes plans, every year. Champions have to go in not knowing if their belts are on the line. Money can be won. Contenderships can be set. Every year something big changes at the Shuffle round. This year will be no different, and the reason for the change of plans will be ME when I win!
Blackjack pulls out his new gladiatorial in-ring name's namesake, his Blackjack card deck.
Theron: Pick a card, Diamond.
The Thief picks a card from the deck and shows it to Theron.
Diamond: It's the Ace Of Spades.
Theron: That, Diamond, is the fate of my next opponent. It doesn't matter if I'm in there with a newcomer like Deis Bluesnake or a legend like Tiberius Scorch. Whoever got picked to face Blackjack Theron this week is gonna get dealt the Ace Of Spades.... because I'm Blackjack Theron.... and I'm gonna make them fold!
Angle zooms in on the card for a moment, before the scene fades to black.
It was a humid and stuffy night in Sheffield, England. The fans in the arena waved fliers in their faces as the action inside of the ring did nothing but heat the place up even more. Under the bright lights of the arena, two men did battle for supremacy. One man, smaller than the other, lands a wonderful hip toss to the bigger man before rising to his feet and soaking in the appreciation from the assembled masses at ringside. With a Union Flag emblazoned on his trunks, the smaller man makes his way to the edge of the ring and points skywards with one finger. Another rumble of appreciation come anticipation sounds as the wrestler grabs the ropes and propels himself onto the top rope. In the meantime, the bigger man begins to get to his feet. The smaller man bides his time, waiting for the ideal opportunity to strike and put this match away. The bigger man finally gets to his vertical base but that soon comes under threat as the smaller man launches himself off of the top rope, looking for a hurricanrana. But the bigger man suddenly bursts into life and nails his opponent with a devastating POWERBOMB! He somehow finds the strength to lift his opponent back into an elevated position and nails him with the DOUBLE-POWERBOMB!
The bigger man falls backwards and into the ropes. He allows a look of shock to cross his face before it is brushed aside by a look of pure venom and hatred. He quickly scurries towards his opponent and covers him. He puts his forearm in the face of his smaller opponent to suck in some hatred from the fans as the referee counts the fall. 1... 2... 3!
The fans at ringside let the man in the ring know what they think of his win as he slowly gets to his feet and stumbles backwards into the ropes again. The referee grabs his arm to raise it in celebration but the wrestler quickly pulls it from his grasp. He moves towards the edge of the ropes and orders the stage hand to give him a microphone, another actions that seems to draw the ire of the fans at ringside.
Wrestler: You see this? This is what happens when you put someone inferior in my path. I am the single most destructive entity on this side of the Atlantic. You have put the very best that you have to offer in my path and, one by one, I have smashed them into pieces; leaving them broken and beaten in the middle of this ring. The UK is my playground. I am the man around here. You better get used to that...
With that, the dark-haired wrestler drops the microphone and begins walking across the ring. The smaller opponent is almost on his feet but that is soon ended by a devastating boot to the jaw from the victor. The crowd continue to boo as the unnamed wrestler as he rolls under the bottom rope and onto the ramp. He raises his arms in celebration as he begins walking up the ramp and through the curtain. On the other side of the curtain, the wrestler walks past some of the production staff and out into a white-walled corridor. Soon enough, a man in a white shirt and braces marches towards him. It is no secret that the man is furious as he finally reaches his intended target.
Man: How many times have I told you, Terry, you can't go out there and talk down to the people that pay your fucking wages, you plonker!
The man's rage doesn't subside as, the now-named, Terry breezes right past him; only stopping for a moment to extend his hand to accept a hefty envelope from the reluctant man. Terry gives the man a wry smile as the turns his back on him and continues down the corridor. After a moment of finding his way around the backstage area, Terry bursts through the locker room door to reveal an empty room. He moves across the stone floor to where his belongings are hanging and sits down on a wooden bench. Sniffling and allowing a stoic look to cross his features, he allows his head to drop into his hands for a moment as silence fills the air. Suddenly, a voice from across the room fills the air. Terry lifts his head suddenly as a familiar voice booms.
???: Great performance out there, Kid.
Terry narrows his eyes to a shadowy area of the locker room as a hunching beast of a man walks into the light; revealing none other than the Power Trip, John Constantine.
Terry: You are joking me?
Constantine allows a warm smile to cross his features as he continues to walk towards the seated man in front of him.
Constantine: This is no joke, my friend. You and I have a lot to talk about.
Constantine and Abel fall through the locker room doors in utter jubilation. They had accomplished what they had set out to do and no one could doubt their magnificence now. They were the Tag Team Champions of WZCW and they were celebrating as such. In the corner of the room, however, sits Steven Holmes. His facial expression gives nothing away as he watches the gleeful pair saunter towards him. But soon, the ominous stare from Holmes sours the atmosphere as he gets to his feet. Constantine and Abel finally reach him as tensions between Constantine and Holmes prepare to, seemingly, boil over once again. But soon, a brilliant smile appears on the face of The Elite as he pulls Abel in for an embrace and then does the same with Constantine.
Holmes: I knew you could do it, lads. I had every faith in you!
Constantine and Abel choose not to respond as Holmes pulls the Championship gold from off of the shoulder of his lumbering giant and stares at it, almost, as though he was in a trance. Suddenly raises his head from the beautiful sight of gold, Holmes begins to eye Constantine.
Holmes: And you, John...
Constantine takes a deep breath as he braces himself for the argument that is, seemingly, about to come.
Holmes: I had my doubt about you, and Lord knows you did nothing to quell those fears. Constantly trying to take young Abel from me, creating a wedge between us in the hope of claiming this talent as your own...
Constantine rolls his eyes and fidgets on the spot as Holmes openly brings his secret plans to light, remaining silent all the while.
Holmes: But you have reminded me just why it was a fantastic idea to bring you on board with Vis Imperium, John. You have shown me that you can work with us and not against us. The Championship gold on your shoulder is testament to that. Thank you.
With that, Holmes extends his hand towards Constantine, an action that no one in their right mind would have seen coming only a few days ago. Constantine allows a puzzled and shocked look to cross his features before looking at a beaming Abel to his right. All of the past between the two men had boiled down to this. Constantine takes a deep breath before extending his hand and shaking that of Steven Holmes. In that moment, all of the past between the two disappeared as Holmes allows his joy to overcome him and pulls Constantine in for a hug.
Holmes: Thank you, John. From the bottom of my heart.
Holmes pulls away from Constantine before giving the Championship belt on his shoulder a little pat of reassurance. Giving the other Championship belt back to Abel, Holmes takes one last look at the destructive Champions and allows an even wider smile to creep across his smarmy features.
Holmes: What a team you will make. People talk about Cerberus and The Full House Daves as though they were the greatest Tag Team to be created. Well, standing before me I see a team that can match that and overcome it. Sublime, gentlemen. Utterly sublime.
With that, Holmes beckons to Abel that it is time to leave. Constantine remains silent as Holmes pats Abel on the back and ushers him back towards the door that he just came through. Turning only one more time to look at Constantine in the middle of the floor, Holmes flashes one more smile at him before harrying Abel through the door and leaving him alone with his thoughts and his newly-won Championship. In that moment, so many emotions ran through the head of The Power Trip. Could he really trust that Steven Holmes was on the same page as him? Just what was going on in the head of The Elite? Perhaps a new dawn between Holmes and Constantine could be reached...
Constantine suddenly snaps out of his state of confusion as his cell phone begins to ring. Seemingly confused, Constantine shakes his head to shake off the cobwebs and moves over to his bag. He searches through his belongings until he finds what he is looking for and brings it to his ear.
Constantine: Yes?
A pause.
Constantine: I was thinking that perhaps we should shelf that assignment actually. In recent days I have seen a different side to Steven Holmes. One, dare I say, that I could even come to trust and, perhaps, even like.
Another pause.
Constantine: Is that so?
Constantine remains quiet as the person on the other end of the phone continues to talk, bringing a look of determination to the face of Constantine as he narrows his eyes and takes everything in.
Constantine: Wait! Mexico, Japan and England!? My word, he has been busy, hasn't he? Thank you for all of your help on this. I'll be in touch in the morning for details.
With that, Constantine ends the phone call and tosses his phone back into his bag on the bench. Turning round and sitting on the bench with his Championship in both hands, Constantine seems to be silently contemplating his next move. Could he put his doubt and suspicion to bed to forge an alliance with Abel and Holmes that was built on a secure foundation? He wanted to so badly. But there was a niggling feeling in his mind that things were not rosy in the garden. What did Steven Holmes want with WZCW and what was his involvement there? Constantine remains silent as he gets to his feet and tosses the Tag Team Championship into his bag.
Constantine: Damn it...
His decision had been made.
The bigger man falls backwards and into the ropes. He allows a look of shock to cross his face before it is brushed aside by a look of pure venom and hatred. He quickly scurries towards his opponent and covers him. He puts his forearm in the face of his smaller opponent to suck in some hatred from the fans as the referee counts the fall. 1... 2... 3!
The fans at ringside let the man in the ring know what they think of his win as he slowly gets to his feet and stumbles backwards into the ropes again. The referee grabs his arm to raise it in celebration but the wrestler quickly pulls it from his grasp. He moves towards the edge of the ropes and orders the stage hand to give him a microphone, another actions that seems to draw the ire of the fans at ringside.
Wrestler: You see this? This is what happens when you put someone inferior in my path. I am the single most destructive entity on this side of the Atlantic. You have put the very best that you have to offer in my path and, one by one, I have smashed them into pieces; leaving them broken and beaten in the middle of this ring. The UK is my playground. I am the man around here. You better get used to that...
With that, the dark-haired wrestler drops the microphone and begins walking across the ring. The smaller opponent is almost on his feet but that is soon ended by a devastating boot to the jaw from the victor. The crowd continue to boo as the unnamed wrestler as he rolls under the bottom rope and onto the ramp. He raises his arms in celebration as he begins walking up the ramp and through the curtain. On the other side of the curtain, the wrestler walks past some of the production staff and out into a white-walled corridor. Soon enough, a man in a white shirt and braces marches towards him. It is no secret that the man is furious as he finally reaches his intended target.
Man: How many times have I told you, Terry, you can't go out there and talk down to the people that pay your fucking wages, you plonker!
The man's rage doesn't subside as, the now-named, Terry breezes right past him; only stopping for a moment to extend his hand to accept a hefty envelope from the reluctant man. Terry gives the man a wry smile as the turns his back on him and continues down the corridor. After a moment of finding his way around the backstage area, Terry bursts through the locker room door to reveal an empty room. He moves across the stone floor to where his belongings are hanging and sits down on a wooden bench. Sniffling and allowing a stoic look to cross his features, he allows his head to drop into his hands for a moment as silence fills the air. Suddenly, a voice from across the room fills the air. Terry lifts his head suddenly as a familiar voice booms.
???: Great performance out there, Kid.
Terry narrows his eyes to a shadowy area of the locker room as a hunching beast of a man walks into the light; revealing none other than the Power Trip, John Constantine.
Terry: You are joking me?
Constantine allows a warm smile to cross his features as he continues to walk towards the seated man in front of him.
Constantine: This is no joke, my friend. You and I have a lot to talk about.
* * *
The night of Unscripted 2016
Constantine and Abel fall through the locker room doors in utter jubilation. They had accomplished what they had set out to do and no one could doubt their magnificence now. They were the Tag Team Champions of WZCW and they were celebrating as such. In the corner of the room, however, sits Steven Holmes. His facial expression gives nothing away as he watches the gleeful pair saunter towards him. But soon, the ominous stare from Holmes sours the atmosphere as he gets to his feet. Constantine and Abel finally reach him as tensions between Constantine and Holmes prepare to, seemingly, boil over once again. But soon, a brilliant smile appears on the face of The Elite as he pulls Abel in for an embrace and then does the same with Constantine.
Holmes: I knew you could do it, lads. I had every faith in you!
Constantine and Abel choose not to respond as Holmes pulls the Championship gold from off of the shoulder of his lumbering giant and stares at it, almost, as though he was in a trance. Suddenly raises his head from the beautiful sight of gold, Holmes begins to eye Constantine.
Holmes: And you, John...
Constantine takes a deep breath as he braces himself for the argument that is, seemingly, about to come.
Holmes: I had my doubt about you, and Lord knows you did nothing to quell those fears. Constantly trying to take young Abel from me, creating a wedge between us in the hope of claiming this talent as your own...
Constantine rolls his eyes and fidgets on the spot as Holmes openly brings his secret plans to light, remaining silent all the while.
Holmes: But you have reminded me just why it was a fantastic idea to bring you on board with Vis Imperium, John. You have shown me that you can work with us and not against us. The Championship gold on your shoulder is testament to that. Thank you.
With that, Holmes extends his hand towards Constantine, an action that no one in their right mind would have seen coming only a few days ago. Constantine allows a puzzled and shocked look to cross his features before looking at a beaming Abel to his right. All of the past between the two men had boiled down to this. Constantine takes a deep breath before extending his hand and shaking that of Steven Holmes. In that moment, all of the past between the two disappeared as Holmes allows his joy to overcome him and pulls Constantine in for a hug.
Holmes: Thank you, John. From the bottom of my heart.
Holmes pulls away from Constantine before giving the Championship belt on his shoulder a little pat of reassurance. Giving the other Championship belt back to Abel, Holmes takes one last look at the destructive Champions and allows an even wider smile to creep across his smarmy features.
Holmes: What a team you will make. People talk about Cerberus and The Full House Daves as though they were the greatest Tag Team to be created. Well, standing before me I see a team that can match that and overcome it. Sublime, gentlemen. Utterly sublime.
With that, Holmes beckons to Abel that it is time to leave. Constantine remains silent as Holmes pats Abel on the back and ushers him back towards the door that he just came through. Turning only one more time to look at Constantine in the middle of the floor, Holmes flashes one more smile at him before harrying Abel through the door and leaving him alone with his thoughts and his newly-won Championship. In that moment, so many emotions ran through the head of The Power Trip. Could he really trust that Steven Holmes was on the same page as him? Just what was going on in the head of The Elite? Perhaps a new dawn between Holmes and Constantine could be reached...
--- RING RING ---
Constantine suddenly snaps out of his state of confusion as his cell phone begins to ring. Seemingly confused, Constantine shakes his head to shake off the cobwebs and moves over to his bag. He searches through his belongings until he finds what he is looking for and brings it to his ear.
Constantine: Yes?
A pause.
Constantine: I was thinking that perhaps we should shelf that assignment actually. In recent days I have seen a different side to Steven Holmes. One, dare I say, that I could even come to trust and, perhaps, even like.
Another pause.
Constantine: Is that so?
Constantine remains quiet as the person on the other end of the phone continues to talk, bringing a look of determination to the face of Constantine as he narrows his eyes and takes everything in.
Constantine: Wait! Mexico, Japan and England!? My word, he has been busy, hasn't he? Thank you for all of your help on this. I'll be in touch in the morning for details.
With that, Constantine ends the phone call and tosses his phone back into his bag on the bench. Turning round and sitting on the bench with his Championship in both hands, Constantine seems to be silently contemplating his next move. Could he put his doubt and suspicion to bed to forge an alliance with Abel and Holmes that was built on a secure foundation? He wanted to so badly. But there was a niggling feeling in his mind that things were not rosy in the garden. What did Steven Holmes want with WZCW and what was his involvement there? Constantine remains silent as he gets to his feet and tosses the Tag Team Championship into his bag.
Constantine: Damn it...
His decision had been made.
FunKay the Inevitable
People Like Me, We Don't Play
[YOUTUBE]KkMiCGTi0SM[/YOUTUBE]
Somewhere Near Sweetwater, Texas
A chain gang, dressed as one might expect, are hard at work, breaking rock in the baking sun. One man leading the others in song. Most are African-Americans, though there are whites, Latinos and others too. A guard stands, assault rifle in hand, toothpick in mouth, aviators shielding his eyes and a hat keeping the sun off his face. Another man dressed in similar fashion sits atop a white horse, supervising the actions. Still the prisoners drive their axes down to crack those rocks.
We move away, their song still echoing in our ears, past a sea of trees to a spot where we witness a shovel piercing a clay surface. It digs up. Dust comes flying off the ground and is swept away by a quick wind. The clay is cast aside. Underneath lies yet more dried, petrified soil. In goes the shovel again. More clay goes up and away and more dust is carried off at the winds discretion. The process is repeated again.
Theres a sign on the way to Sweetwater claims that Lifes Sweet in Texas. I call it crap. Aint nothin sweet bout this here lan. Men workin hard in a blisterin sun, dyin slowly, burnin away slowly goin insane, only their community, their comradery to keep em together.
Slowly pulling away, we see a vested, sweat laden monolith is digging this hole Abel Hunnicutt! The man monster is wearing his usual attire, his newly acquired World Tag Team gold nowhere to be seen.
Mah life hadnt been sweet fo a lon, lon time. Then along he came. Slinked into mah life an here I stan one half o the Worls Tag Team Champions. Un-believ-able. He saved me from mah own fears, mah own mediocrity, slavin away, trapped in a life o addiction an struggle, getting that thrill every time black tar rose on up. Sheee
He stops and wipes his brow, looks up to the sun, shielding his eyes as he does, squinting. After a moment, he returns to work.
He turned me into a livin weapon. Part o me hates im fo it. A little part, constantly screamin, stompin an all that. It bubbles oer sometimes, but fo the most, Im happy, content with mah role, mah place in the grand scheme. Alongside Master Holmes, alongside Mister Con-stan-tine. We rule WZCW or least, we bout to. Yall don know it yet, but we bout to.
An then, then we gonna hold all the cards. We gonna rule with an iron fist, an Ill be that fist, wreckin everthin, controllin all o it. Master Holmes, hes the heart o it, his vision to rule and dominate all, it put him on the path o greatness an it was born to im, to his blood. His passion like no other. Con-stan-tine, he the brain. Clinical, a mil-i-tary strategist o the finest order.
Youd like im; cunnin an capable o seein a wider lanscape, but not afraid to get down n dirty when its needed. An lets not fo-get Reynolds. Boys a Goddamned secret ops o somethin. He sneaks on in and gets it down, nice and clean like. He can drag out if ya wan o he can make it quick an pain-less. Tailors his work fo your needs.
Digging faster, harder and deeper into the cracked earth below, Abel has created a hole deep enough to satisfy his want and need. Standing in it, he looks around, inspecting the diameters it isnt very large, but it suffices he feels. He steps out of it and takes a swig from a little cantina clasped to his belt.
Vis Imperium, its beginning to cause a stir. Youd be proud, man. But I can help but shake the thought, that youd hate me all the same. Ya always said I was born to be bad. I don think I was, an I don think I am. Some perceive what I do as bad, evil even. I don see it that way, nah man. What I did to M? Well ya gots ta sen a message don ya? What about Coopah and Kea-ton?
Cas-u-alities o wa. Thats somethin you can understand ya don wanna kill that enemy troop, he just another man like you, but you got yourself a duty, a cause, one yo willin ta die fo, an you gotta fufill that any which way you can an if you break a few eggs ta get that omelette, sure it aint pleasant, but all that matter is that result. Only can be one World Tag Champs, an Vis Imperium, we wanted it, so we took it. It werent pleasant, but it sure as hell was fun. I think you get that.
Abel moves away from the hole now and toward a beat up pick-up. Bullet holes riddle it and rust has withered it, but appears to still be operational. He dips into a rolled down window and pulls a duffle bag from it. Now, he proceeds to make his way back toward the dig sight.
Now, with Reynolds gold too, we anglin fo more. We hold symbols that mean somethin, symbols of old and symbols of eternity, we hold the companys future in our hands an we will continue to wield it as such. We gonna rule it all man, Con-stan-tine certainly thinks so. Master Holmes, he knows so. Talks about how this could be it, his lastin legacy, his final victory over all who doubted an all who questioned his rule.
Taking the small jump back down into the little hole, Abel tosses the bag to his feet and then squats his massive frame down to meet it there on the newfound dirt floor. He unzips it and puts his paw in a leg bone of some sorts. He casts it aside, still in the hole, but away from him. He goes in again.
I neer wanted to be champ-ion. Never wanted to be cloaked in gold and glamour, I was happy with dirt an sweat, with the blood tricklin down mah cheek. I would ha gladly kept on rippin an tearin as a monster without a mission, but I got me a higher purpose now, an it makes me feel the best I been in years. Thats whats tastin sweet in mah life now; victory in the name o my empire.
This time Abel produces a skull human most certainly. He looks at it with great interest, making sure to inspect every aspect of it. Clearly it has been looked after, in immaculate condition. Then, gently, he places it down, at the furthest point of the hole.
No matter who comes up against me, Reynolds or Con-stan-tine, we gonna make it work fo us an make it hell on earth fo whoever we commin up against. They can prey fo salvation, can prey fo safety and sanctity, but it aint gonna work no more. The old Gods have been replaced, an in their stead stans us; fate has decreed us, the holders of WZCWs destiny, an now we begin to show all the way we take it.
Now Abel picks up the bag and dumps its contents the remainder of this skeleton he has and makes sure to scatter it all over the grave the size is perfect for the job hes wanted. Then finally one last thing falls from the bag: military dog tags. Abel grabs them, taking a closer look.
After all this time, I came back to sample that sweet water again, an now I realise how bitter it don tastes. It reminds me though, o where I came from, an where am goin.
The dog tags are inscribed:
HUNNICUTT
JEBEDIAH J.
754-66-7026
O NEG
CATHOLIC
Abel kisses them and then casts them in amongst the bones too. He throws the duffle bag out and slowly leaves the hole.
No longer a prisoner o mah past, no longer a prisoner o mah genes o mah future. What has happened has happened. I can change it, an I wouldn. Its has made me what I am now an what I am now, is ready fo whatever the future may be.
Replanting the earth that he originally dug up himself, Abel pats down all that remains, the sun slowly setting on this day as the working mens song begins to fade into the night. He plants his shovel into this makeshift grave and leans on it, closing his eyes and saying a little prayer
Our Father, who art in heaven
The night comes and so we leave Abel to this moment of privacy.
James Howard is sitting in a locker room. Sunlight shines through the clerestory windows that seem to rise towards the heavens shining a divine light onto the whitewashed breezeblock walls and allowing the floating particles of dust to almost hang in the air.
For too long Ive played their game. Sat back and tried to meet the sycophants in the WZCW offices half way; allowing cloying yes men like Leon Kensworth into my own home, into my kitchen. To allow Vance Bateman to decide what I do and what I achieve. I held back and let a fat man-child take the glory for what we achieved together. I let a man who uses his family to garner sympathy from the whooping morons cheering suplex party like he should be rewarded for mastering something from day one of training beat me in the middle of the ring.
Howard is tightening boxing wraps around his hands, his upper body and face cloaked in shadow, he is clearly wearing shorts, boxing boots and no shirt. He has a towel thrown over his head.
I made my name fighting for my life all over the world and this business has made me soft and weak. I came to WZCW for the money and I stayed because it was an easy ride. Its time to go back to my roots.
Howard rises to his feet, his torso is clearly soaked with sweat. The towel still draped over his face.
Its time for me to put everyone in that locker room on notice. Im not playing anymore. Im coming for everything this company has to give and more.
Howard lifts his head, the towel falling to the floor, his face is a bloody mess; swollen eyes, what must be a broken nose and blood dripping from his hairline. He turns, wipes the blood from his face and licks his lips, before walking through the door which flicks open like the saloon door in a spaghetti western. There are about ten people inside the gym when Howard first walks through, with each successive swing of the doors there are less people standing and more people on the floor. After five swings, Howard walks back through the doors, his face red with fresh blood and his once pristine white boxing wraps stained red.
Im coming to get you Garth.
Howard walks, grabs his gym bag, throws it over his shoulder and strides out of the locker room and into the lobby.
For too long Ive played their game. Sat back and tried to meet the sycophants in the WZCW offices half way; allowing cloying yes men like Leon Kensworth into my own home, into my kitchen. To allow Vance Bateman to decide what I do and what I achieve. I held back and let a fat man-child take the glory for what we achieved together. I let a man who uses his family to garner sympathy from the whooping morons cheering suplex party like he should be rewarded for mastering something from day one of training beat me in the middle of the ring.
Howard is tightening boxing wraps around his hands, his upper body and face cloaked in shadow, he is clearly wearing shorts, boxing boots and no shirt. He has a towel thrown over his head.
I made my name fighting for my life all over the world and this business has made me soft and weak. I came to WZCW for the money and I stayed because it was an easy ride. Its time to go back to my roots.
Howard rises to his feet, his torso is clearly soaked with sweat. The towel still draped over his face.
Its time for me to put everyone in that locker room on notice. Im not playing anymore. Im coming for everything this company has to give and more.
Howard lifts his head, the towel falling to the floor, his face is a bloody mess; swollen eyes, what must be a broken nose and blood dripping from his hairline. He turns, wipes the blood from his face and licks his lips, before walking through the door which flicks open like the saloon door in a spaghetti western. There are about ten people inside the gym when Howard first walks through, with each successive swing of the doors there are less people standing and more people on the floor. After five swings, Howard walks back through the doors, his face red with fresh blood and his once pristine white boxing wraps stained red.
Im coming to get you Garth.
Howard walks, grabs his gym bag, throws it over his shoulder and strides out of the locker room and into the lobby.
CyberPunk
The Show himself
A week before Meltdown Madness
Veejay is looking across the hall at the giant board that hangs in this large office. WZCW World Heavyweight Champions it reads. Names of legends like Everest, Steamboat Ricky, Ty etc decorates the wall. Beside it is the Hall of Fame board which has similarly big names. Veejay walks all the way to the wall, overwhelmed by the shear greatness of some of the names on the board. Just as he looks a little bit closer, a voice interrupts him.
Secretary: He will see you now.
Veejay pulls himself away from the boards unwillingly. He walks into the office of the most powerful man in WZCW.
Mr. Banks: Mr Chauhan, take a seat.
Veejay: Call me Veejay. I was hoping to see you sooner.
Mr. Banks: Im a busy man, Veejay. Having said that, I couldnt fathom why youd like a special audience with me.
Veejay: Yeah, I really wanted to talk to you for some time regarding my role in the company.
Mr. Banks: Is that so? You couldve talked to Mr. Bateman or Ms Serra. Why come all the way to meet me? You know how precious our time is, right?
Veejay: I understand. But they are not exactly ready to listen, so I came to you.
Mr. Banks: What exactly is it that you want?
Veejay: I want to know what exactly my role is. What am I doing in the company? What does the company want from me? How does the WZCW see me?
Mr Banks seems a little bemused.
Mr. Banks: Where are these questions coming from? You are an asset to us, why?
Veejay: Are you sure? It doesnt seem like that to me.
Mr. Banks: What are you talking about?
Veejay: I want to know when Ill get my shot at any title. Which title am I fighting for? Which no. 1 contenders match am I part of?
Mr. Banks: You will get it when the time comes.
Veejay: And when is that time coming? Its been almost 2-years Ive been on the roster and I am yet to receive a clear shot on any of the titles at all. So when does my time come?
Mr. Banks: This is not something I am responsible for. You should go and check with Vance and Becky what they have in their mind for you.
Veejay: And what should I do to attract their attention? Should I go all Garth Black on them? Is that now what it takes to receive an opportunity?
Mr. Banks: Youre taking this all wrong.
Veejay stands up with a sudden jerk, seemingly quite frustrated.
Veejay: Then show me the right way! I ask for opportunities and I get shunned! Take this recent Unscripted for example. I was the semifinalist of Gold Rush and yet I was stuck on the pre-show. Alright, no problem. Theron throws up an open challenge and I respond to it first, and yet it went to public vote and I didnt get the shot. No problem, I go to pre-show and beat John Doe, and whats my prize for it? I avoid entering at no.1 at Lethal Lottery? Is that the grand prize for beating someone? Ive beaten former world champions and legends like Chris KO and The Beard, but what have I received in return? I am here to build a legacy. Something that goes beyond the make-believe world of movies and accepts me for what I really am. I dont see that happening. So tell me, whats the right way?
Mr. Banks himself seems pretty frustrated now.
Mr Banks: Quit whining, Veejay. What do you think of yourself? Do you think opportunities are just handed like that? Do you see your friend Mikey and how much time it took for him to actually become a world champion? This is not your home where everything is given to you on a silver platter. This is WZCW. Its an unfair world. You dont always get what you deserve. And you sure dont ask for opportunities here, you seize em. I appreciate what you do for us despite going through all your personal problems lately, but that doesnt mean youll get anything handed to you. If you see an opportunity, you grab it, even if it is not your opportunity. The next round is Roulette, which means anything goes, so go for whatever you draw and make the best of it. So, go and think about how youll do THAT instead of coming here and wasting my time.
Veejay, seething from within, ponders over the words of Mr. Bank. Just before he goes out the door, something strikes him.
Veejay: Yes, Mr. Banks, youre right. Its about damn time I seized whats rightfully mine. Thank you for your time.
Veejay is looking across the hall at the giant board that hangs in this large office. WZCW World Heavyweight Champions it reads. Names of legends like Everest, Steamboat Ricky, Ty etc decorates the wall. Beside it is the Hall of Fame board which has similarly big names. Veejay walks all the way to the wall, overwhelmed by the shear greatness of some of the names on the board. Just as he looks a little bit closer, a voice interrupts him.
Secretary: He will see you now.
Veejay pulls himself away from the boards unwillingly. He walks into the office of the most powerful man in WZCW.
Mr. Banks: Mr Chauhan, take a seat.
Veejay: Call me Veejay. I was hoping to see you sooner.
Mr. Banks: Im a busy man, Veejay. Having said that, I couldnt fathom why youd like a special audience with me.
Veejay: Yeah, I really wanted to talk to you for some time regarding my role in the company.
Mr. Banks: Is that so? You couldve talked to Mr. Bateman or Ms Serra. Why come all the way to meet me? You know how precious our time is, right?
Veejay: I understand. But they are not exactly ready to listen, so I came to you.
Mr. Banks: What exactly is it that you want?
Veejay: I want to know what exactly my role is. What am I doing in the company? What does the company want from me? How does the WZCW see me?
Mr Banks seems a little bemused.
Mr. Banks: Where are these questions coming from? You are an asset to us, why?
Veejay: Are you sure? It doesnt seem like that to me.
Mr. Banks: What are you talking about?
Veejay: I want to know when Ill get my shot at any title. Which title am I fighting for? Which no. 1 contenders match am I part of?
Mr. Banks: You will get it when the time comes.
Veejay: And when is that time coming? Its been almost 2-years Ive been on the roster and I am yet to receive a clear shot on any of the titles at all. So when does my time come?
Mr. Banks: This is not something I am responsible for. You should go and check with Vance and Becky what they have in their mind for you.
Veejay: And what should I do to attract their attention? Should I go all Garth Black on them? Is that now what it takes to receive an opportunity?
Mr. Banks: Youre taking this all wrong.
Veejay stands up with a sudden jerk, seemingly quite frustrated.
Veejay: Then show me the right way! I ask for opportunities and I get shunned! Take this recent Unscripted for example. I was the semifinalist of Gold Rush and yet I was stuck on the pre-show. Alright, no problem. Theron throws up an open challenge and I respond to it first, and yet it went to public vote and I didnt get the shot. No problem, I go to pre-show and beat John Doe, and whats my prize for it? I avoid entering at no.1 at Lethal Lottery? Is that the grand prize for beating someone? Ive beaten former world champions and legends like Chris KO and The Beard, but what have I received in return? I am here to build a legacy. Something that goes beyond the make-believe world of movies and accepts me for what I really am. I dont see that happening. So tell me, whats the right way?
Mr. Banks himself seems pretty frustrated now.
Mr Banks: Quit whining, Veejay. What do you think of yourself? Do you think opportunities are just handed like that? Do you see your friend Mikey and how much time it took for him to actually become a world champion? This is not your home where everything is given to you on a silver platter. This is WZCW. Its an unfair world. You dont always get what you deserve. And you sure dont ask for opportunities here, you seize em. I appreciate what you do for us despite going through all your personal problems lately, but that doesnt mean youll get anything handed to you. If you see an opportunity, you grab it, even if it is not your opportunity. The next round is Roulette, which means anything goes, so go for whatever you draw and make the best of it. So, go and think about how youll do THAT instead of coming here and wasting my time.
Veejay, seething from within, ponders over the words of Mr. Bank. Just before he goes out the door, something strikes him.
Veejay: Yes, Mr. Banks, youre right. Its about damn time I seized whats rightfully mine. Thank you for your time.
Lee
Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No it's Supermod!
Titus: It was a year ago to the day that I returned. A year that Celtic Park exploded. No one remembers the match, but they remember THAT video. The look on Tastic's face as I came out. The crowd in the palm of my hands. The last time they cared for me.
Titus Avison is sat in a first class departure lounge in an airport. One assumes it's Chicago O'Hare. Titus is suited up and looks rather chirpy.
LAST CALL FOR THE FLIGHT LEAVING FOR LAS VEGAS, NEVADA. GATE 12.
Titus: I don't miss it. I bet they do though. Of course they do.
With that a child, of about eight, runs up to the hall of famer and asks for his autograph. His father grabs him by the arm and pulls him away muttering something about leaving him alone.
Titus: It's fine.
The father lets the child get his autograph and says thanks to Titus.
Titus: Oh and stay in school!
The two vanish out the departure lounge. Titus chuckles.
Titus: I didn't even ask his name. Like I said, I don't care about him but he'll remember that for years. He'll spend the whole plane ride talking about me. He'll tell his mother and step-dad about me when he gets home. His Dad's saved all year for a holiday with his kid who he'll see once a month and I've just made this all about me.
THE GATE FOR LAS VEGAS, NEVADA IS NOW CLOSED.
Titus: I'm such a dick.
Titus gets up and walks past the gate for Las Vegas. There is the father and son stood there being refused entry. The Dad is arguing that he can see the plane. The kid is just looking at his Titus Avison signature and waves as the five time Oscar winner walks past. However this is not his flight.
He approaches the boarding gate of another flight.
Flight attendant: Ah Mr. Avison, always a pleasure when such an A lister gets on our flights. Even better when there are two.
Titus: Who's the other?
Flight attendant: Brad Pitt.
Titus: Really? What on earth could he want in Boston? I hope he's just going to a baseball match.
Flight attendant: Researching a role, sir.
Titus: Fantastic.
The sarcastic tone of the fantastic is lost on the flight attendant as the EurAsian Champion makes his way to the flight. One thing Titus Avison hates is method actors. He didn't win five Oscars by living like someone else, he won them by acting. Brad Pitt, however, loves to go all in.
As Titus enters the flight he goes into the first class section and there are only two seats, quite an exclusive one but hopes of avoiding Brad Pitt are now impossible. I'll also not go into the logical inconsistency that there needs to be more than two seats, where is the cameraman going to sit afterall?
Brad: Eey! Titus Avison, how ah ya? It's been what? Four years?
Titus mutters under his breath but the Fight Club Actor doesn't hear it.
Titus: It's been too long. What's with the voice?
Brad: Well I'm researching a role. I'm goin' ta be in a flick about the Boston bombin's so I'm doing the ahccent 24/7.
Whattah you doin going to Bohston?
Titus: Research.
Brad: Ahctin' or wrestlin'?
Titus: Wrestling. I know I'll be on Meltdown being the EurAsian champion but I have no idea who I'm facing. I assume it'll be on the line but who against? My theory is Logan McAllister but they may throw in a surprise.
Brad: I have no idea who that is but I'm sure he's wicked awesome. The only othah wrestlah I know is Chris K.Oh.
In one sentence Brad Pitt turns it round. Titus Avison has a hatred for Chris K.O. stemming back years. Rumours have been mounting that he wants the EurAsian title and he once had psychic tell him that K.O. would follow an era of Havoc. Surely not?
Titus: You do realise Chris is not wrestling? That I hate his guts?
Brad: Oh I hate him too.
Titus: Why?
Brad: He looks exahctly like me.
Titus: Oh yeah, you do.
Brad: Just destroy him if you face him. Though go easy on Logan, if he's from Bohston he's cool in my books.
With that the scene cuts, what Brad Pitt and Titus Avison discussed we'll never know. I assume the cameraman was sent to his seat in the back and I very much doubt it was WZCW chat. Afterall it's an almost two hour flight and the thing they have in common is acting. Though that accent must really be annoying the former world champion.
Some music starts playing as familiar words pop up on screen.
Where it began,
I can't begin to knowin'
But then I know it's growing strong
There is a video of fenway park as a limo approaches.
Was in the spring
And spring became the summer
Who'd have believed you'd come along.
And spring became the summer
Who'd have believed you'd come along.
The crowd outside of lots of Red Sox fans, very few looking sober.
Hands, touchin' hands
Reachin' out, touchin' me, touchin' you
We're inside the ground as the national anthem has stopped, Titus Avison comes out to throw the first pitch. He does. He grabs a microphone as the crowd continue to sing.
Sweet Caroline
Good times never seemed so good
I've been inclined
To believe they never would
But now I...
Titus: Logan McAllister. I will beat you to a pulp. Just like SCUMM. Just like SHIT. Just like Flex, twice and just like Vee A.D.Z. Oh and one more thing.
Titus rips off his Red Sox jersey to reveal a Yankees jersey underneath.
The camera fades to black but Titus Avison has definitely made a few enemies in Boston. Sorry JGlass.
Viola Moonlight
I'm Literally Just Here for WZCW
Eve Taylor stood slouched in the shower, drenched with freezing cold water. Her skin reacted, goosebumps popping up like zits on an acne-riddled teenager. Her body reacted, shivering incessantly, too difficult to even stand still. Yet, Eve Taylor did not react. She could not react to the icicles raining down; she could not feel anything, despite her bodily reactions. Eve was not satisfied with this result, and decided to ramp up the temperature, switching to boiling hot water. As the lava began oozing out through a cloud of steam, mystifying her hotel bathroom. Again, her skin reacted, becoming a bright red, a polar opposite of her formerly blue shade. Again, her body reacted, with her goosebumps, and every body part, flinching at the stinging sensation. Again, Eve did not feel anything. The same feeling of emptiness and nothingness continued pummelling her, as if she was bathing herself from the lake of depression, filled by the tears of sorrow.
Eve slowed turned the seething metal taps, both frozen and melting from the extreme temperature difference, stopping the water flow. It was pointless for Eve to shower any longer, as she was wasting someone else's water. This was the similar feeling she felt when being the Elite Openweight champion; continuing to shower any longer as the champion was to waste someone else's chance to bathe themselves under the glory of championship gold. She knew it was time for her to give up Senshuken, and allow someone else, even if it was someone like Austin Reynolds who associated himself with undesirables, to take the reign... but after everything Senshuken had done for her career, rejuvenating herself and giving her purpose, Eve Taylor did not feel anything for the loss of her inanimate friend; the cool breeze of the Heavens, and the scalding steam of Hell, could not reach through her soul, and penetrate her very being.
------------------------------------------------------
The hotel elevator says it stopped on the ground floor, but it felt like Eve Taylor had hit rock bottom. She had no championship, and she felt empty, like a lost spirit wandering the earthly realm, looking for a way to find peace before passing to the afterlife. Even after her amazing reign as champion, breaking records and gaining notoriety as one of the best wrestlers the world had to offer, she was back at the beginning, when all of this was a dream to Eve. She thought it best to sleep it off, and recharge, hoping for a new outlook in the morning, but Eve could not fall asleep. Every time she wished to dream, she received a nightmare instead. Like any depressed, sleepless individual would do, Eve went to go have an alcoholic drink of some description.
As the doors opened, Eve pretended the lobby corridor to be a fashion runway, as the bright lights illuminated the shiny floors, spraying the spotlight down on her. She took a few steps in her strut, but her unenthusiastic attitude and improper posture caused her to trip, and quickly snap her back to reality: the floors were wet, nobody was watching her, and she was not a model anymore.
'This was not a fashion runway, and you're only here to get a drink.' Eve's brain reminded her.
Eve sighed in response, and concentrated on walking as normal as possible as she made her way to the hotel bar. She glanced at the clock on the wall, making sure she was able to still catch a drink or two before it shut. Luckily for her, this hotel in Chicago was known for being open the latest for its bar; the entire reason she booked her own hotel room separate from the rest of the WZCW roster and crew... which came to her surprised when she saw a familiar face sitting by himself at the bar. Eve took a double-take, and rubbed her eyes, to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. Her eyes did not deceive, as the same person was still there, confirmed by her ears when she heard him order another drink from the bar, as she slowly approached the bar.
"Give us another one, barkeep."
"You sure you haven't had enough?" The barkeep suggested. "I think you should slow down."
"I haven't anywhere to be."
The barkeeper gave an unsure look, and hesitated on the request, before turning away to prepare another drink.
"I'm calling you a cab after this one."
"It's okay, mate. He's with me..." Eve reassured. "And make that two."
Eve Taylor sat at the bar, next to the former World champion Mikey Stormrage, who only glanced over a second, before looking back towards the bar, staring blankly with a slouch; it was a similar position to which Eve would also get herself comfortable in, as the two former champions waited patiently, and mulled over their losses in silence. The only sounds made were the cheesy lobby music, and the shaking of whatever drink Mikey had indulged himself.
"Hope you like Appletini's." Mikey said, breaking the silence.
Eve glanced at Mikey with a blank stare, "Seriously?"
"I'm not World champion anymore. Doesn't matter what I do."
Mikey let out a little chuckle at his own response, as the bartender handed them their drinks. Eve pulled out money for the drinks, much more than what those two were worth, and motioned for the bartender to give them some space. He nodded, and obliged her request, pretending to take a stack of glasses to the back for washing.
"Should we toast?" Eve offered, picking up her glass halfheartedly.
Mikey shook his head. "Toast to what?"
Eve couldn't think of anything on the spot outside of stereotypical supermodel answers, such as World Peace. Her hesitation on an answer caused Mikey to take a drink without toasting, or waiting for Eve. She followed suit, cupping the drink in both hands, and taking a sip. Was her depressive state noticeable to Mikey that her attempt at cheering him up was ineffective, or was Mikey more depressed than she?
"Do you want to talk about it?" Eve sincerely questioned.
"About what? There is nothing to talk about."
"It's no good for us to wallow in sel-"
"Us?" Mikey retorted. "How can you wallow when you've had an amazing championship reign? You should be celebrating, not drinking in misery. Just because we lost our titles on the same night doesn't make us the same."
Eve was taken aback by the response, especially from someone like Mikey, a person who has always known to be a cheery, and fun-loving goofball. It was almost like staring into a mirror, reminding Eve of how she used to carry herself, and the attitude she used to hold towards others. This brought back memories of Eve being a complete dickhole to Mikey on their 'date' some time ago, and despite only trying to make Mikey feel better, she felt bad. She knew it was best to probably leave someone like Mikey in peace, but she didn't want to leave him alone tonight... nor did she fancy drinking by herself. She needed to talk.
"Twenty minutes ago, I attempted to freeze myself, and then immediately after, I attempted to burn myself. I tried walking through the lobby like a runway, only to slip... and now, I'm here to have a drink to not only try and feel something, but to actually force myself to go to sleep. Yet, no matter what I've tried so far, I still haven't been able to feel anything. I thought being the Elite Openweight champion, and creating a monster reign would avenge my pitiful Eurasian title reign. I thought giving the title a personality and a name in Senshuken would make up for the lack of friends, and family... and I thought, after freeing up myself of the title once I did everything I could with it, I'd be free of the shackles."
Eve took a sip of the drink before continuing.
"None of it did anything. I became bored with the Elite Openweight title, and any attempts at keeping it were merely selfish, but giving it away, like I attempted to do, was seen as cowardly and disrespectful towards the title. Senshuken was a placeholder for a chance at massaging my social sanity, and that I still had many issues and problems I needed to deal with; a family that doesn't want anything to do with me, and I turned on all of my friends backs for a chance at success... and not being the champion any more doesn't feel any different than it did when I was champion. I thought the whole world will be off my shoulders, and I could focus elsewhere... but it turned out nobody was watching me anyway. For a girl who was neglected by her family for the first half of her life, and then became a model who craved the spotlight for the second half, getting the attention of others is the only thing I've ever known. I got none of that when I won the title, broke records, and then lost the title."
One more sip of the Appletini. She took a pause afterwards, carefully choosing her words.
"You are here, sitting at this bar, feeling sad, and angry, at the loss of your title. All of these emotions you feel right now are those akin to hatred, and that is good. Hatred, and all of its affiliates, are feelings of passion. You know what else is related to passion? Love. Love and hate go hand-in-hand with passion, and you get the option to feel... but me? I feel indifference, Mikey. I do not hate, nor do I love. Hell, I don't like, and I don't not like... there is nothing..."
Eve words trail, as she goes for another sip. She tries to speak afterwards, but she cannot find the words. The pause between her sip and speaking becomes a silence, one which is closely becoming an awkward one. She needs to figure out something to say before the moment is lost, but she still cannot get past her final words... 'there is nothing'... was this the moment Eve figured out she had depression? Was this indifference and empty feeling what it felt like to be clinically depressed? If championship glory, and becoming the best wrestler did not make her feel, then what was she doing in WZCW? What was she doing here? Before Eve could answer these questions, and delve deep into a part of her brain, one of no return, especially in the company of alcohol, Mikey broke the silence.
"Geez, you're even depressing me." Mikey said, letting out a little chuckle.
Eve responded with a little chuckle of her own. The two then shared a little chuckle simultaneously, both genuinely nervous reactions. The chuckles became laughs, and then hearty ones at that. Nothing was really funny in their words, not their actions... but it felt right to just laugh with Mikey. Even when he was sad, and angry, he could still make Eve feel a laugh. This quality, she admired, and for the moment the two shared the laughing state, she soaked it in... because for the first time in a while, she began to feel something. She didn't know what it was, and she couldn't care less how to define it, but she knew this wasn't going to be the end of the night.
As the laughter subsided, Eve's fingers tapped her drink in a rhythmic pattern, before sculling it down. Mikey noticed this as she slammed her glass down on the table. Before he had a chance to react, Eve grabbed his hand and looked to pull him away from the bar.
"What are you doing?" Mikey said in surprise.
"Get up. We're hitting the town."
Mikey flailed about in his shocked state, doing his best to reach out for his beloved Appletini, but the strength of Eve was too much to fight. He was only fingertips away before Eve ripped him from his seat, and forced him to walk. Eve carried him away with purpose as Mikey let out a big groan, realising he had no choice but to walk after competing in a gruelling contest. Eve let out a smirk as the two exited the hotel, and hailed down a cab.
"Where are we going?"
"You said I should be celebrating my championship reign, and not drinking in misery. So, let's go celebrate."
Mikey took a second to process the information. "Okay... where?"
"You should know... you're the one taking me out to dinner."
Eve smiled at Mikey as the cab parked up beside them. There was a lot of emptiness inside her in this moment, but it was beginning to be filled up... maybe all this stress Eve had put on herself needed to be solved with a night on the town. Maybe she'd rekindle herself, and find a new purpose, and a new meaning, after being Elite champion for so long. With the randomness of the Roulette approaching, and the Lottery leading to the Kingdom in the distance, anything was possible for Eve, and she had to keep all her options open.
"Taco Bell sound good?"
".............." Eve stared blankly at Mikey.
Maybe she shouldn't keep all options open.
Eve slowed turned the seething metal taps, both frozen and melting from the extreme temperature difference, stopping the water flow. It was pointless for Eve to shower any longer, as she was wasting someone else's water. This was the similar feeling she felt when being the Elite Openweight champion; continuing to shower any longer as the champion was to waste someone else's chance to bathe themselves under the glory of championship gold. She knew it was time for her to give up Senshuken, and allow someone else, even if it was someone like Austin Reynolds who associated himself with undesirables, to take the reign... but after everything Senshuken had done for her career, rejuvenating herself and giving her purpose, Eve Taylor did not feel anything for the loss of her inanimate friend; the cool breeze of the Heavens, and the scalding steam of Hell, could not reach through her soul, and penetrate her very being.
------------------------------------------------------
The hotel elevator says it stopped on the ground floor, but it felt like Eve Taylor had hit rock bottom. She had no championship, and she felt empty, like a lost spirit wandering the earthly realm, looking for a way to find peace before passing to the afterlife. Even after her amazing reign as champion, breaking records and gaining notoriety as one of the best wrestlers the world had to offer, she was back at the beginning, when all of this was a dream to Eve. She thought it best to sleep it off, and recharge, hoping for a new outlook in the morning, but Eve could not fall asleep. Every time she wished to dream, she received a nightmare instead. Like any depressed, sleepless individual would do, Eve went to go have an alcoholic drink of some description.
As the doors opened, Eve pretended the lobby corridor to be a fashion runway, as the bright lights illuminated the shiny floors, spraying the spotlight down on her. She took a few steps in her strut, but her unenthusiastic attitude and improper posture caused her to trip, and quickly snap her back to reality: the floors were wet, nobody was watching her, and she was not a model anymore.
'This was not a fashion runway, and you're only here to get a drink.' Eve's brain reminded her.
Eve sighed in response, and concentrated on walking as normal as possible as she made her way to the hotel bar. She glanced at the clock on the wall, making sure she was able to still catch a drink or two before it shut. Luckily for her, this hotel in Chicago was known for being open the latest for its bar; the entire reason she booked her own hotel room separate from the rest of the WZCW roster and crew... which came to her surprised when she saw a familiar face sitting by himself at the bar. Eve took a double-take, and rubbed her eyes, to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. Her eyes did not deceive, as the same person was still there, confirmed by her ears when she heard him order another drink from the bar, as she slowly approached the bar.
"Give us another one, barkeep."
"You sure you haven't had enough?" The barkeep suggested. "I think you should slow down."
"I haven't anywhere to be."
The barkeeper gave an unsure look, and hesitated on the request, before turning away to prepare another drink.
"I'm calling you a cab after this one."
"It's okay, mate. He's with me..." Eve reassured. "And make that two."
Eve Taylor sat at the bar, next to the former World champion Mikey Stormrage, who only glanced over a second, before looking back towards the bar, staring blankly with a slouch; it was a similar position to which Eve would also get herself comfortable in, as the two former champions waited patiently, and mulled over their losses in silence. The only sounds made were the cheesy lobby music, and the shaking of whatever drink Mikey had indulged himself.
"Hope you like Appletini's." Mikey said, breaking the silence.
Eve glanced at Mikey with a blank stare, "Seriously?"
"I'm not World champion anymore. Doesn't matter what I do."
Mikey let out a little chuckle at his own response, as the bartender handed them their drinks. Eve pulled out money for the drinks, much more than what those two were worth, and motioned for the bartender to give them some space. He nodded, and obliged her request, pretending to take a stack of glasses to the back for washing.
"Should we toast?" Eve offered, picking up her glass halfheartedly.
Mikey shook his head. "Toast to what?"
Eve couldn't think of anything on the spot outside of stereotypical supermodel answers, such as World Peace. Her hesitation on an answer caused Mikey to take a drink without toasting, or waiting for Eve. She followed suit, cupping the drink in both hands, and taking a sip. Was her depressive state noticeable to Mikey that her attempt at cheering him up was ineffective, or was Mikey more depressed than she?
"Do you want to talk about it?" Eve sincerely questioned.
"About what? There is nothing to talk about."
"It's no good for us to wallow in sel-"
"Us?" Mikey retorted. "How can you wallow when you've had an amazing championship reign? You should be celebrating, not drinking in misery. Just because we lost our titles on the same night doesn't make us the same."
Eve was taken aback by the response, especially from someone like Mikey, a person who has always known to be a cheery, and fun-loving goofball. It was almost like staring into a mirror, reminding Eve of how she used to carry herself, and the attitude she used to hold towards others. This brought back memories of Eve being a complete dickhole to Mikey on their 'date' some time ago, and despite only trying to make Mikey feel better, she felt bad. She knew it was best to probably leave someone like Mikey in peace, but she didn't want to leave him alone tonight... nor did she fancy drinking by herself. She needed to talk.
"Twenty minutes ago, I attempted to freeze myself, and then immediately after, I attempted to burn myself. I tried walking through the lobby like a runway, only to slip... and now, I'm here to have a drink to not only try and feel something, but to actually force myself to go to sleep. Yet, no matter what I've tried so far, I still haven't been able to feel anything. I thought being the Elite Openweight champion, and creating a monster reign would avenge my pitiful Eurasian title reign. I thought giving the title a personality and a name in Senshuken would make up for the lack of friends, and family... and I thought, after freeing up myself of the title once I did everything I could with it, I'd be free of the shackles."
Eve took a sip of the drink before continuing.
"None of it did anything. I became bored with the Elite Openweight title, and any attempts at keeping it were merely selfish, but giving it away, like I attempted to do, was seen as cowardly and disrespectful towards the title. Senshuken was a placeholder for a chance at massaging my social sanity, and that I still had many issues and problems I needed to deal with; a family that doesn't want anything to do with me, and I turned on all of my friends backs for a chance at success... and not being the champion any more doesn't feel any different than it did when I was champion. I thought the whole world will be off my shoulders, and I could focus elsewhere... but it turned out nobody was watching me anyway. For a girl who was neglected by her family for the first half of her life, and then became a model who craved the spotlight for the second half, getting the attention of others is the only thing I've ever known. I got none of that when I won the title, broke records, and then lost the title."
One more sip of the Appletini. She took a pause afterwards, carefully choosing her words.
"You are here, sitting at this bar, feeling sad, and angry, at the loss of your title. All of these emotions you feel right now are those akin to hatred, and that is good. Hatred, and all of its affiliates, are feelings of passion. You know what else is related to passion? Love. Love and hate go hand-in-hand with passion, and you get the option to feel... but me? I feel indifference, Mikey. I do not hate, nor do I love. Hell, I don't like, and I don't not like... there is nothing..."
Eve words trail, as she goes for another sip. She tries to speak afterwards, but she cannot find the words. The pause between her sip and speaking becomes a silence, one which is closely becoming an awkward one. She needs to figure out something to say before the moment is lost, but she still cannot get past her final words... 'there is nothing'... was this the moment Eve figured out she had depression? Was this indifference and empty feeling what it felt like to be clinically depressed? If championship glory, and becoming the best wrestler did not make her feel, then what was she doing in WZCW? What was she doing here? Before Eve could answer these questions, and delve deep into a part of her brain, one of no return, especially in the company of alcohol, Mikey broke the silence.
"Geez, you're even depressing me." Mikey said, letting out a little chuckle.
Eve responded with a little chuckle of her own. The two then shared a little chuckle simultaneously, both genuinely nervous reactions. The chuckles became laughs, and then hearty ones at that. Nothing was really funny in their words, not their actions... but it felt right to just laugh with Mikey. Even when he was sad, and angry, he could still make Eve feel a laugh. This quality, she admired, and for the moment the two shared the laughing state, she soaked it in... because for the first time in a while, she began to feel something. She didn't know what it was, and she couldn't care less how to define it, but she knew this wasn't going to be the end of the night.
As the laughter subsided, Eve's fingers tapped her drink in a rhythmic pattern, before sculling it down. Mikey noticed this as she slammed her glass down on the table. Before he had a chance to react, Eve grabbed his hand and looked to pull him away from the bar.
"What are you doing?" Mikey said in surprise.
"Get up. We're hitting the town."
Mikey flailed about in his shocked state, doing his best to reach out for his beloved Appletini, but the strength of Eve was too much to fight. He was only fingertips away before Eve ripped him from his seat, and forced him to walk. Eve carried him away with purpose as Mikey let out a big groan, realising he had no choice but to walk after competing in a gruelling contest. Eve let out a smirk as the two exited the hotel, and hailed down a cab.
"Where are we going?"
"You said I should be celebrating my championship reign, and not drinking in misery. So, let's go celebrate."
Mikey took a second to process the information. "Okay... where?"
"You should know... you're the one taking me out to dinner."
Eve smiled at Mikey as the cab parked up beside them. There was a lot of emptiness inside her in this moment, but it was beginning to be filled up... maybe all this stress Eve had put on herself needed to be solved with a night on the town. Maybe she'd rekindle herself, and find a new purpose, and a new meaning, after being Elite champion for so long. With the randomness of the Roulette approaching, and the Lottery leading to the Kingdom in the distance, anything was possible for Eve, and she had to keep all her options open.
"Taco Bell sound good?"
".............." Eve stared blankly at Mikey.
Maybe she shouldn't keep all options open.
"Places, everyone!" The Conductor shouted, as he tapped his baton on his music stand. The orchestra immediately jumped into position, straightened their backs on their chairs, and held their instruments with vigor, sitting patiently and preparing for the second he walked through the door. Loud footsteps came through the door outside the dining room, slowly coming closer before stopping at the door, and then...
The doors flew open with such force that a gust of wind caught the cape of The World's Greatest Mind himself, Xander LeBelle, and sent it fluttering in the breeze. On cue for his arrival, the conductor did a simple motion of his baton to start the very first song, and the piano player started out to let everyone else to join in:
Für Elise. A Beethoven Classic. You didn't have to be some kind of professional to play it, either. Anyone who spent any time whatsoever trying to learn a string instrument or a piano had probably ended up playing it once before. Xander, though, looked as though he was ready to dance. The melody put a smile on his face as he sat down at his table. Another servant poured him his red wine, and closing his eyes, he took a sip, clearing his mind of all thoughts, and listening to the soothing sounds of the orchestra, as he prepared for his dinner.
"Alton."
"Yes, sir?" One of the helpers replied.
"Tell Adonis, to answer his question, should it come to that in the roulette round, I shall have him fill in for me. He knows the exact situation in which I would refuse to compete. And one more thing, be sure to tell him that I shall be late by at least seven minutes and forty-two seconds. That is the minimum amount of time it shall take me to take care of my unexpected company."
The servants simultaneously looked at each other, shocked.
"U-Unexpected company?" The maid carrying the wine bottle asked, as she put a hand to her cheek. "I wasn't expecting that!"
"Neither was I, but one of the violins is off rhythm, and I am never wrong. I happen to be The World's Greatest Mind, and there is not an off day for that title," he said with a smug laugh. "And may that name be stripped from me at this very moment if I'm wrong."
The band stopped playing. There was one last violin screech from the top row as the song slowed to a halt. With one more sip of his wine, he pounded on the table, and pointed towards the upper row of violinists.
"Show yourself, Alexandra. Don't hold me up even more."
The servants followed his gaze, followed by the rest of the orchestra.
They all looked toward me.
I placed my violin down and awkwardly walked through the orchestra and to the floor. He hadn't even made eye contact with the band when he entered the room, and somehow he was able to pick out just who I was and where I was sitting, even with my curly hair cut short and dyed brown.
"There she is! Alexandra Imani Moore, Le Gentleman Masque la deuxième, Ladies and Gentlemen, let us give it up to her. She prides herself on a vigilante persona I regard publicly as a joke, and barges unannounced into my American home."
It was hard to believe this man was my mentor. Impossible, in fact. We used to work together prior to everything that had happened, and here he was, ridiculing me.
"It's not a joke when you wanna talk about your title reigns, though, huh?" I told him, under my breath, but loud enough so he could hear me.
Like everything else I said to him in the past year, he ignored everything I said to him. Instead, he focused his attention on the band.
"Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, Act II, Number 10. Moderato." he ordered.
With a nod from the conductor, he raised his baton once more and the band began to play Xander's request.
"You should have worn dresses more often, rather than your usual hooded sweatshirts. You actually look like someone who might belongs to an aristocratic family." he said, in a condescending tone. "Although I suppose a hick will never be smart enough to do something that is for her own good."
I just laughed. Whatever he said didn't even affect me at this point. He was so different from how he was, I couldn't even see him as the same person anymore.
"You know, if you were to sit down, perhaps I could tell you what it is you need to hear and you will hopefully leave me alone in the future. I have plenty of refreshments. I usually provide a good chunk of food for my servants, like a kind man, but if they will leave an ambassador unprotected enough that someone of your standing can sneak in, you deserve their share far more than they do."
"I ain't hungry." I told him.
"That's a first," he scoffed.
Without even thinking, I struck him on cheek, right then and there. The impact was strong enough that it knocked him out of his seat. His wine glass shattered, red wine spilling all over the floor. His servants immediately lunged and wrapped my hands behind my back.
"Breaking and entering, as well as attacking a government official. Bravo." Xander said, clapping sarcastically as he straightened up. He didn't even care about what I did to his cheek. "You realize you are very lucky that you had me back when you asked me to be your mentor. You would have been dead had it not been for me saving you."
The servants began to walk off with me, before a 'not so fast' came from him.
"Before we have her arrested, and likely bailed out by her billionaire parents, I will grace you with my time." Xander said. There was pity in his voice.
I didn't even want to look at him. I looked to my side before he grabbed me by the chin and pointed my face directly at his eyes. I could see my face reflected in his glasses.
"I understand that you may still see me as your mentor, howeve--."
"I just wanna know what the hell is up with you, okay? You were my friend." I interrupted him. "I don't even know you anymore. You'd never kick me out. You've gotten worse and worse, all 'cause you're jealous that you weren't there and your role could be replaced in that situation. It doesn't mean you're replaceable for everyone and every situation. Just let it go!"
He groaned "That is my problem. You take me for granted, or see me as some kind of old chum. I regret to inform you things have changed for me, and time has passed. I was used, and never properly shown what potential I might have. I use a gift, practically assigned to me at birth, and here I am being lectured by a criminal."
Letting go, I looked back down at the floor so that I didn't have to look at him. But I could hear him whisper to one of his assistants, before returning to me. He had something in store, I knew that much.
"That is what you are. You are a criminal, and I am in the right, because the law dictates that my life is more valuable than an average person's life. Accept it, and while you wait for your father to bust you out of your idiotic hobby, consider every single thing that lead to you being arrested. You came here to try and change me, but my life is perfect. The irony is stunning. Which one of us exactly needs to change, again?"
I spat on his face. He barely even blinked as he reached into his coat pocket to grab his napkin and wipe off my spit, but he did stop talking for a little while to do so.
"Alright," he said to his servants, "I have had my fill. Press charges, and keep her under wraps until the policemen arrive. And if you will please excuse me, my dinner is gettting cold." He checked his watch. "Seven minutes and forty-two seconds, precisely. Nothing less should ever be expected."
As the servants walked me away, I heard the doors shut behind me. And from there, came my arrest.
----
"...and that there's my story officer. I'm not gonna sugarcoat the situation."
The officer nodded as he took notes. Lexxy just rested her elbow on the table and sighed. Boy, could she not wait to get out of that uncomfortable dress and go to sleep at this point. Thankfully, a godsend burst into the room in the form of another police officer.
"Good news, little lady," he said, "I just got word that your father has offered to post whatever bail might be."
Lexxy breathed a sigh of relief, as she got up and walked through the door to the police station. Just as she was about to exit, however, the policeman blocked her exit.
"Just...don't ever let this happen again."
Lexxy stared at the ground, a defeated expression on her face.
"...I'm not gonna."
With a smile on the officers face, he backed off to let her through.
"...That's good to hear. Be safe now."
The doors flew open with such force that a gust of wind caught the cape of The World's Greatest Mind himself, Xander LeBelle, and sent it fluttering in the breeze. On cue for his arrival, the conductor did a simple motion of his baton to start the very first song, and the piano player started out to let everyone else to join in:
Für Elise. A Beethoven Classic. You didn't have to be some kind of professional to play it, either. Anyone who spent any time whatsoever trying to learn a string instrument or a piano had probably ended up playing it once before. Xander, though, looked as though he was ready to dance. The melody put a smile on his face as he sat down at his table. Another servant poured him his red wine, and closing his eyes, he took a sip, clearing his mind of all thoughts, and listening to the soothing sounds of the orchestra, as he prepared for his dinner.
"Alton."
"Yes, sir?" One of the helpers replied.
"Tell Adonis, to answer his question, should it come to that in the roulette round, I shall have him fill in for me. He knows the exact situation in which I would refuse to compete. And one more thing, be sure to tell him that I shall be late by at least seven minutes and forty-two seconds. That is the minimum amount of time it shall take me to take care of my unexpected company."
The servants simultaneously looked at each other, shocked.
"U-Unexpected company?" The maid carrying the wine bottle asked, as she put a hand to her cheek. "I wasn't expecting that!"
"Neither was I, but one of the violins is off rhythm, and I am never wrong. I happen to be The World's Greatest Mind, and there is not an off day for that title," he said with a smug laugh. "And may that name be stripped from me at this very moment if I'm wrong."
The band stopped playing. There was one last violin screech from the top row as the song slowed to a halt. With one more sip of his wine, he pounded on the table, and pointed towards the upper row of violinists.
"Show yourself, Alexandra. Don't hold me up even more."
The servants followed his gaze, followed by the rest of the orchestra.
They all looked toward me.
I placed my violin down and awkwardly walked through the orchestra and to the floor. He hadn't even made eye contact with the band when he entered the room, and somehow he was able to pick out just who I was and where I was sitting, even with my curly hair cut short and dyed brown.
"There she is! Alexandra Imani Moore, Le Gentleman Masque la deuxième, Ladies and Gentlemen, let us give it up to her. She prides herself on a vigilante persona I regard publicly as a joke, and barges unannounced into my American home."
It was hard to believe this man was my mentor. Impossible, in fact. We used to work together prior to everything that had happened, and here he was, ridiculing me.
"It's not a joke when you wanna talk about your title reigns, though, huh?" I told him, under my breath, but loud enough so he could hear me.
Like everything else I said to him in the past year, he ignored everything I said to him. Instead, he focused his attention on the band.
"Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, Act II, Number 10. Moderato." he ordered.
With a nod from the conductor, he raised his baton once more and the band began to play Xander's request.
"You should have worn dresses more often, rather than your usual hooded sweatshirts. You actually look like someone who might belongs to an aristocratic family." he said, in a condescending tone. "Although I suppose a hick will never be smart enough to do something that is for her own good."
I just laughed. Whatever he said didn't even affect me at this point. He was so different from how he was, I couldn't even see him as the same person anymore.
"You know, if you were to sit down, perhaps I could tell you what it is you need to hear and you will hopefully leave me alone in the future. I have plenty of refreshments. I usually provide a good chunk of food for my servants, like a kind man, but if they will leave an ambassador unprotected enough that someone of your standing can sneak in, you deserve their share far more than they do."
"I ain't hungry." I told him.
"That's a first," he scoffed.
Without even thinking, I struck him on cheek, right then and there. The impact was strong enough that it knocked him out of his seat. His wine glass shattered, red wine spilling all over the floor. His servants immediately lunged and wrapped my hands behind my back.
"Breaking and entering, as well as attacking a government official. Bravo." Xander said, clapping sarcastically as he straightened up. He didn't even care about what I did to his cheek. "You realize you are very lucky that you had me back when you asked me to be your mentor. You would have been dead had it not been for me saving you."
The servants began to walk off with me, before a 'not so fast' came from him.
"Before we have her arrested, and likely bailed out by her billionaire parents, I will grace you with my time." Xander said. There was pity in his voice.
I didn't even want to look at him. I looked to my side before he grabbed me by the chin and pointed my face directly at his eyes. I could see my face reflected in his glasses.
"I understand that you may still see me as your mentor, howeve--."
"I just wanna know what the hell is up with you, okay? You were my friend." I interrupted him. "I don't even know you anymore. You'd never kick me out. You've gotten worse and worse, all 'cause you're jealous that you weren't there and your role could be replaced in that situation. It doesn't mean you're replaceable for everyone and every situation. Just let it go!"
He groaned "That is my problem. You take me for granted, or see me as some kind of old chum. I regret to inform you things have changed for me, and time has passed. I was used, and never properly shown what potential I might have. I use a gift, practically assigned to me at birth, and here I am being lectured by a criminal."
Letting go, I looked back down at the floor so that I didn't have to look at him. But I could hear him whisper to one of his assistants, before returning to me. He had something in store, I knew that much.
"That is what you are. You are a criminal, and I am in the right, because the law dictates that my life is more valuable than an average person's life. Accept it, and while you wait for your father to bust you out of your idiotic hobby, consider every single thing that lead to you being arrested. You came here to try and change me, but my life is perfect. The irony is stunning. Which one of us exactly needs to change, again?"
I spat on his face. He barely even blinked as he reached into his coat pocket to grab his napkin and wipe off my spit, but he did stop talking for a little while to do so.
"Alright," he said to his servants, "I have had my fill. Press charges, and keep her under wraps until the policemen arrive. And if you will please excuse me, my dinner is gettting cold." He checked his watch. "Seven minutes and forty-two seconds, precisely. Nothing less should ever be expected."
As the servants walked me away, I heard the doors shut behind me. And from there, came my arrest.
----
"...and that there's my story officer. I'm not gonna sugarcoat the situation."
The officer nodded as he took notes. Lexxy just rested her elbow on the table and sighed. Boy, could she not wait to get out of that uncomfortable dress and go to sleep at this point. Thankfully, a godsend burst into the room in the form of another police officer.
"Good news, little lady," he said, "I just got word that your father has offered to post whatever bail might be."
Lexxy breathed a sigh of relief, as she got up and walked through the door to the police station. Just as she was about to exit, however, the policeman blocked her exit.
"Just...don't ever let this happen again."
Lexxy stared at the ground, a defeated expression on her face.
"...I'm not gonna."
With a smile on the officers face, he backed off to let her through.
"...That's good to hear. Be safe now."
We are in a council estate in Wales in 1991, and the early afternoon sun was shining. Two boys in school uniform are walking through the estate, kicking a can as they progress. They reach a row of shops. They walk past the butchers, hairdressers and the greengrocer. The last shop in the row was a VHS rental store. One of the boys is vaguely recognisable as a young Garth Black. The other is a friend of his, Charlie Roberts. As they always did, they stare forlornly into the window of the video store. As he always did, the slightly older, scrawnier Video Shop Assistant came out to taunt the fact that neither of them owned a VHS player. As he always did, Garth was very frustrated about this.
Video Shop Assistant: You two come past here every day at the same time, and it's stupid because you can't afford the player.
Black: Yeah, that's true. Why don't you give us one of the old spares?
Video Shop Assistant: Absolutely not.
Black: But it would cost you nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Video Shop Assistant: No, it wouldn't. But I still don't want to.
Black: Why not?
Video Shop Assistant: Just because.
Black was not particularly satisfied with this answer and turned and went to walk away.
Black: Come on Charlie, this guy isn't going to help him out.
Charlie: Fair enough. I don't know why he has to be such a tool about it.
As Charlie's words echo in his mind, Garth sees a stack of applied statistics textbooks through into the staff room just behind the till, the door held ajar. A cog in Garth's head begins to turn. A plan ensues.
Black: It's because he's such a moron, and this is the best job he'll ever have!.
Video Shop Assistant: Actually, I'm studying for a mathematics degree. I'm heading for the top and you guys will still be knocking around here without any prospects, without any money and without a VHS player.
A smirk begins to form on Garth Black's face as his plan starts to work.
Black: Then tell me, what are the chances of tossing a coin and guessing correctly that it will come up heads or tails?
Video Shop Assistant: 1 in 2.
Black: So what would the odds of doing it 30 times in a row be?
Video Shop Assistant: Around 1 in a billion.
Black: Eesh, I don't like those odds. Ok how about both Charlie and I toss a coin in each of those two side rooms. We can't communicate or see each other, but we guess what the other person has. What's the chances that at least one of is is right 50 times in a row?
Video Shop Assistant: Look, is this going anywhere?
Black: Yes, please just tell me.
Video Shop Assistant: I'll need to figure it out. Let me get a pen and piece of paper.
The assistant works on the problem for a few minutes before checking his answers. He is eventually satisfied with his answer.
Video Shop Assistant: 1 in 1,765,781. Is that it?
Black: That's pretty unlikely, but I'll take the odds. All you have to do is have exactly that set up.
Charlie and I will sit where we can't see each other. Each will toss a coin, look at it, show you, and then guess what the other person has by writing it down. If at any point in 50 tries, we are both wrong, we lose. If we at least one of us gets it right, we win. And let's have a little wager.
How would you like to earn yourself the crisp twenty pound note Charlie's mum gave him to pay the milkman?
Charlie: What?! No!
Black: Trust me.
Video Shop Assistant: Go on. What's the wager you want?
Black: We want your spare VHS machine.
Video Shop Assistant: You're betting twenty pounds on odds of nearly two million to one for an old VHS player?
Black: Yeah, you're right. We'd like eternal free rentals for as long as you work here.
Video Shop Assistant: Ok, you're on. I'll go and get a colleague to help me judge.
Charlie: Garth! Are you completely insane?
Black: Look, I know how we can beat him.
Black whispers to his friend what his plan is as the assistant returns.
Video Shop Assistant: The odds are ridiculously stacked against you, so good luck.
Black: You know, if you're smart enough and good enough, it doesn't matter how stacked the odds are. And you don't need luck.
Sure enough, after 50 flips of the coins, at least one of Charlie and Garth had been correct in guessing the other person's coin result. An increasingly distraught shop assistant was getting more and more agitated. However, despite his clear sadness at the result, he was true as his word and handed the VHS player. A smile crossed Black's face.
Video Shop Assistant: Just tell me how you did it?
The two friends leave the store with their new VCR in hand.
Charlie: I'm so proud of you, man. That was very clever.
Black: It's not the first time, and it's not the last time that I'll be 'lucky'.
**************
Fast forward 25 years and Garth Black is chatting to Jonny Klamor for the cameras. Black is holding his new World Championship as he chats.
Klamor: The last few weeks have been particularly dramatic for you, could you give your thoughts about the events at Unscripted.
Black: Well I won the title. I won the title like I said I would. I beat Tastic and Mikey. Like I said I would. I have made it the hard way to the top, I've made it here on my own and the difficulties have been piled against me by Serra and Bateman at every possible opportunity. But I keep moving onwards.
Klamor: What about the intruders in your match, do you feel like their presence affected the result?
Black: I knew this would happen. Those guys were sent as a plan B. They saw I was going to win and that there was nothing I could do about it and they therefore they tried to undermine the victory.
Klamor: The timing of it presented you with good luck, don't you think?
Black: I make my own luck. Look for the last 6 months literally every single obstacle has been put in my path and I've conquered it to get to this title and now I have it.
Klamor: and you may have to defend it this week!
Black: Well of course, and I'm sure the utterly 'random' draw will present me with a fair chance to do so. I've said it a thousand times, but it doesn't matter, I will go onto whichever show I'm on this week and I will take whatever challenge is put before me. I don't care what they try and do, I'm going to be a fighting champion.
Perhaps the random draw will see me actually get on Meltdown for the first time in 11 months. Perhaps they will give me a handicap match against Mikey and Tastic again. Perhaps I'll have to fight Mike Tyson circa 1988 with my hands tied behind my back. Whatever utter nonsense they present me doesn't matter, because I will fight it and I will win.
Klamor: What's your long term goal?
Black: To defend this belt and to instigate change here. Look, I've beat them, so I don't have to join them. I will remain my own man and I will uphold this belt with integrity and hopefully that trickles down to the lesser lights below.
I promise you, that unlike just about every other champion we've had in recent years, I'm going to defend this belt, a lot. I'm keeping it for a long time, and the only way it will be taken from me is in the middle of the ring fairly and squarely.
I know the powers that be will keep stacking the odds against me, but they don't seem to realise that the higher the odds, the higher the reward, and I keep winning. Like I've always said, if you're smart enough and good enough, it doesn't matter how stacked the odds are.
With that Black leaves Klamor to prepare for his match.
Video Shop Assistant: You two come past here every day at the same time, and it's stupid because you can't afford the player.
Black: Yeah, that's true. Why don't you give us one of the old spares?
Video Shop Assistant: Absolutely not.
Black: But it would cost you nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Video Shop Assistant: No, it wouldn't. But I still don't want to.
Black: Why not?
Video Shop Assistant: Just because.
Black was not particularly satisfied with this answer and turned and went to walk away.
Black: Come on Charlie, this guy isn't going to help him out.
Charlie: Fair enough. I don't know why he has to be such a tool about it.
As Charlie's words echo in his mind, Garth sees a stack of applied statistics textbooks through into the staff room just behind the till, the door held ajar. A cog in Garth's head begins to turn. A plan ensues.
Black: It's because he's such a moron, and this is the best job he'll ever have!.
Video Shop Assistant: Actually, I'm studying for a mathematics degree. I'm heading for the top and you guys will still be knocking around here without any prospects, without any money and without a VHS player.
A smirk begins to form on Garth Black's face as his plan starts to work.
Black: Then tell me, what are the chances of tossing a coin and guessing correctly that it will come up heads or tails?
Video Shop Assistant: 1 in 2.
Black: So what would the odds of doing it 30 times in a row be?
Video Shop Assistant: Around 1 in a billion.
Black: Eesh, I don't like those odds. Ok how about both Charlie and I toss a coin in each of those two side rooms. We can't communicate or see each other, but we guess what the other person has. What's the chances that at least one of is is right 50 times in a row?
Video Shop Assistant: Look, is this going anywhere?
Black: Yes, please just tell me.
Video Shop Assistant: I'll need to figure it out. Let me get a pen and piece of paper.
The assistant works on the problem for a few minutes before checking his answers. He is eventually satisfied with his answer.
Video Shop Assistant: 1 in 1,765,781. Is that it?
Black: That's pretty unlikely, but I'll take the odds. All you have to do is have exactly that set up.
Charlie and I will sit where we can't see each other. Each will toss a coin, look at it, show you, and then guess what the other person has by writing it down. If at any point in 50 tries, we are both wrong, we lose. If we at least one of us gets it right, we win. And let's have a little wager.
How would you like to earn yourself the crisp twenty pound note Charlie's mum gave him to pay the milkman?
Charlie: What?! No!
Black: Trust me.
Video Shop Assistant: Go on. What's the wager you want?
Black: We want your spare VHS machine.
Video Shop Assistant: You're betting twenty pounds on odds of nearly two million to one for an old VHS player?
Black: Yeah, you're right. We'd like eternal free rentals for as long as you work here.
Video Shop Assistant: Ok, you're on. I'll go and get a colleague to help me judge.
Charlie: Garth! Are you completely insane?
Black: Look, I know how we can beat him.
Black whispers to his friend what his plan is as the assistant returns.
Video Shop Assistant: The odds are ridiculously stacked against you, so good luck.
Black: You know, if you're smart enough and good enough, it doesn't matter how stacked the odds are. And you don't need luck.
Sure enough, after 50 flips of the coins, at least one of Charlie and Garth had been correct in guessing the other person's coin result. An increasingly distraught shop assistant was getting more and more agitated. However, despite his clear sadness at the result, he was true as his word and handed the VHS player. A smile crossed Black's face.
Video Shop Assistant: Just tell me how you did it?
Black: I always said what I got. He always said the opposite. If I have heads and he has heads, I will be right. If I have heads and he has tails, he will be right. It's very simple.
The two friends leave the store with their new VCR in hand.
Charlie: I'm so proud of you, man. That was very clever.
Black: It's not the first time, and it's not the last time that I'll be 'lucky'.
**************
Fast forward 25 years and Garth Black is chatting to Jonny Klamor for the cameras. Black is holding his new World Championship as he chats.
Klamor: The last few weeks have been particularly dramatic for you, could you give your thoughts about the events at Unscripted.
Black: Well I won the title. I won the title like I said I would. I beat Tastic and Mikey. Like I said I would. I have made it the hard way to the top, I've made it here on my own and the difficulties have been piled against me by Serra and Bateman at every possible opportunity. But I keep moving onwards.
Klamor: What about the intruders in your match, do you feel like their presence affected the result?
Black: I knew this would happen. Those guys were sent as a plan B. They saw I was going to win and that there was nothing I could do about it and they therefore they tried to undermine the victory.
Klamor: The timing of it presented you with good luck, don't you think?
Black: I make my own luck. Look for the last 6 months literally every single obstacle has been put in my path and I've conquered it to get to this title and now I have it.
Klamor: and you may have to defend it this week!
Black: Well of course, and I'm sure the utterly 'random' draw will present me with a fair chance to do so. I've said it a thousand times, but it doesn't matter, I will go onto whichever show I'm on this week and I will take whatever challenge is put before me. I don't care what they try and do, I'm going to be a fighting champion.
Perhaps the random draw will see me actually get on Meltdown for the first time in 11 months. Perhaps they will give me a handicap match against Mikey and Tastic again. Perhaps I'll have to fight Mike Tyson circa 1988 with my hands tied behind my back. Whatever utter nonsense they present me doesn't matter, because I will fight it and I will win.
Klamor: What's your long term goal?
Black: To defend this belt and to instigate change here. Look, I've beat them, so I don't have to join them. I will remain my own man and I will uphold this belt with integrity and hopefully that trickles down to the lesser lights below.
I promise you, that unlike just about every other champion we've had in recent years, I'm going to defend this belt, a lot. I'm keeping it for a long time, and the only way it will be taken from me is in the middle of the ring fairly and squarely.
I know the powers that be will keep stacking the odds against me, but they don't seem to realise that the higher the odds, the higher the reward, and I keep winning. Like I've always said, if you're smart enough and good enough, it doesn't matter how stacked the odds are.
With that Black leaves Klamor to prepare for his match.
Richard Blonoff
Make America Rassle Again
Gone, lost in a flash.
For every fleeting moment of hope, there is but an infinite amount of despair.
My life had been built on despair.
A demeanor so benevolent, so inviting, yet inside so violent.
My thoughts raced as the doctor checked the my head, making sure the lacerations were superficial, and nothing more serious. It felt like days, weeks even since I lost my World Title to Garth Black, but in truth I had only been in the trainer's room for about ten minutes. I allowed him to wipe the blood away and bandage the gash above my forehead, but before he could go any further, I stood and walked out. I would likely face some form of punishment from the top brass for not allowing the doctor to complete his exam, but I had lost my title, I couldn't care less what else I lost.
I walked out of the room and found an empty hallway. I sat down against the wall, checking my phone, waiting for a text that I knew would never come. Even now, months after her passing, I still checked my phone after each show for the congratulatory text from my mom, telling me how proud of me she was, win or lose. I had no one to send me those texts now. Head down, I pulled the zipper of my hoody up and reached back and pulled the hood over my head. I began to gently weep to myself. I could hear the footsteps of various people as they walked by. No one stopped to check, though I'm sure those that knew who I was knew I would be in no mood to share my feelings. I eventually looked down to my phone once more to check the time. With a large sniff, I sucked the snot that dared sneak down my nose back up and I went to my locker room to change. I walked outside the arena and hailed the first cab I could, and simply asked him to take me to the closest bar. Everything was a blur until she walked in and grabbed my hand.
"What are you doing?" I asked in surprise.
"Get up. We're hitting the town." Eve responded.
I flailed about in his shocked state, doing my best to reach out for my beloved Appletini, but the strength of Eve was too much for me to fight. I was only fingertips away before she ripped me from his seat, and forced me to walk. She carried me away with purpose as I let out a big groan, realizing I had no choice but to walk after competing in a grueling contest. She let out a smirk as we exited the hotel, and hailed down a cab.
"Where are we going?" I asked unsure.
"You said I should be celebrating my championship reign, and not drinking in misery. So, let's go celebrate." Eve responded in kind.
I took a moment to process the information presented to me.
"Okay... where?"
"You should know... you're the one taking me out to dinner."
She smiled at me as the cab parked up beside us.
"Taco Bell sound good?" I asked, almost scared of a response.
".............." Eve stared blankly at me as I shrugged my shoulders.
"I know it isn't exactly the gourmet meals you are probably used to, but at this hour it is likely the best we can do. Besides, I know the secret menu items."
"Very impressive." Eve said jokingly.
She gave me a playful shove and we climbed into the cab. I was getting a second chance at Eve, at least I hoped I was getting a second chance. She may just be playing me again like she did before. No, she seemed different this time. This was a nicer, more responsive Eve. For some reason her demeanor almost disarmed me. Ninety nine percent of my time with girls was spent on the end game, the score. Tonight, at least so far, it felt different. I tried to do the classic yawn and stretch and place my arm around Eve, but she was wise to it.
"Trying to make your move so quickly?"
I turned red with embarrassment, though Eve didn't seem to care that I tried a teenage classic.
"So if you don't mind my asking, what are your plans now that your...Sun....Sunsu....Sunshi..."
"Senshuken."
"Yeah, that thing. What are you going to do without it?" I asked, with some apprehension in my voice.
"I'm not sure. When you have something for so long, it almost becomes a part of you. So for now, I guess I will have to fill that void with something else."
My first instinct usually would have been that Eve could fill her void with my thing any day, but this time I was intrigued. For the first time in some while I cared not about sex, but about the words coming from Eve's mouth. Almost as if they themselves could fill a void in my own life. Before I could continue the cab arrived at a twenty four hour Taco Bell. I paid the fare and we set off inside. Those who were still awake at this devilish hour turned their heads when they saw us walk in. For a moment I though we were going to be hounded for autographs, then I realized why they were staring. Me, Mikey Stormrage with a bandage on my face, was out with former professional model Eve Taylor in a Taco Bell. I must have looked like a kidnapper or something. We walked to the counter and I ordered.
"Yeah, three cheesy potato burritos, two Doritos Locos Tacos supreme, a double grilled Quesadilla, an Incredible Hulk, and the biggest Mt. Dew Baja Blast freeze you have....oh what would you like Eve?"
"I'll just have a taco, no sour cream."
"What are you, on a diet?" I laughed.
"I do try to maintain my figure." She smiled politely.
"And might I say, what a lovely figure it is." I reached down and kissed Eve's hand. She blushed.
Soon our order arrived and we ate.
"So what do you think will happen during the Roulette Rounds?" I asked between giant bites of food.
Eve, ever the lady, took small bites and wiped her mouth with each bite she took.
"Well I hope to get a title shot, or at least a high profile match. The Roulette Rounds have been kind to you over the years haven't they?"
"Currently undefeated with wins over four former World Champions. Ricky Runn in a street fight, Dr. Zeus and Beard in a tag match, and Theron last year in a hardware store. I guess you could say luck is on my side when we go to Vegas."
"So big wins during the Roulette Rounds, five championships to your name, knowledgeable of secret fast food menus, is there anything you can't do?"
I took another giant bite of my burrito before answering.
"I can't seem to find consistent friends." I said with a mouthful.
"What do you mean? You are the greatest tag team wrestler in WZCW history, you built Strikeforce and Live Mas off the backs of great friendships with James Howard and Matt Tastic."
I nodded my head, as if to say Eve was correct as I took another bite.
"Yeah, but you saw how James Howard treated me when I won the big one, and I just went through hell, literally, against Matt. If you hang around me long enough, I'm sure you will end up hating me too."
"I don't think I could ever hate you."
"What was that?"
"Oh nothing. Just saying this taco is spicy."
"You should try it with the Verde Sauce, it will change your world."
Soon we finished eating and set out on foot for the next adventure. By random chance we happened to find an old time arcade that had late hours, so Eve and I went inside and played some games, the most notable of which being Mortal Kombat.
"You know, no one has ever beaten me at Mortal Kombat. You should just give up and save yourself the humiliation."
Eve, as Katana, battled me ferociously, but she was no match for my Sub-Zero dominance. Just as I was about to finish Eve off, something came over me, and I let her win, though I will never admit to it.
"Holy shit!" I did my best to seem surprised.
"So no one has beaten you, until now." Eve flashed a sly grin.
I shrugged my shoulders and accepted my faux defeat.
"I guess there is a first time for everything."
Before I could put another quarter in the machine, Eve grabbed my hand and took off running. I did my best to catch up.
"Where are we going?" I yelled to Eve, who was faster than me.
"You'll see!" She yelled back.
Soon we were at the edge of the Navy Pier, and we watched the reflection of the moon across the calm waters of Lake Michigan.
"The view is beautiful isn't it?"
I looked not out into the water but at Eve.
"From where I'm standing, it's perfect."
Eve caught onto what I was saying and she lowered her head and blushed. Soon the chill of the air off the water got to Eve, and I could feel her trying to warm herself. I moved closer and put my arm around her. This was my chance, I leaned in to kiss her, but just as I did she pulled away and took off her shoes and jumped out of sight into the water below.
"Come on and jump, or are you too chicken?!?" She yelled from below.
I hesitated, before I climbed the railing of the pier. I was unsure of what lie below, just like I was unsure where not only my personal life, but my fed life was headed.
"Fuck it." I said to myself before I jumped headfirst into the unknown.
For every fleeting moment of hope, there is but an infinite amount of despair.
My life had been built on despair.
A demeanor so benevolent, so inviting, yet inside so violent.
My thoughts raced as the doctor checked the my head, making sure the lacerations were superficial, and nothing more serious. It felt like days, weeks even since I lost my World Title to Garth Black, but in truth I had only been in the trainer's room for about ten minutes. I allowed him to wipe the blood away and bandage the gash above my forehead, but before he could go any further, I stood and walked out. I would likely face some form of punishment from the top brass for not allowing the doctor to complete his exam, but I had lost my title, I couldn't care less what else I lost.
I walked out of the room and found an empty hallway. I sat down against the wall, checking my phone, waiting for a text that I knew would never come. Even now, months after her passing, I still checked my phone after each show for the congratulatory text from my mom, telling me how proud of me she was, win or lose. I had no one to send me those texts now. Head down, I pulled the zipper of my hoody up and reached back and pulled the hood over my head. I began to gently weep to myself. I could hear the footsteps of various people as they walked by. No one stopped to check, though I'm sure those that knew who I was knew I would be in no mood to share my feelings. I eventually looked down to my phone once more to check the time. With a large sniff, I sucked the snot that dared sneak down my nose back up and I went to my locker room to change. I walked outside the arena and hailed the first cab I could, and simply asked him to take me to the closest bar. Everything was a blur until she walked in and grabbed my hand.
"What are you doing?" I asked in surprise.
"Get up. We're hitting the town." Eve responded.
I flailed about in his shocked state, doing my best to reach out for my beloved Appletini, but the strength of Eve was too much for me to fight. I was only fingertips away before she ripped me from his seat, and forced me to walk. She carried me away with purpose as I let out a big groan, realizing I had no choice but to walk after competing in a grueling contest. She let out a smirk as we exited the hotel, and hailed down a cab.
"Where are we going?" I asked unsure.
"You said I should be celebrating my championship reign, and not drinking in misery. So, let's go celebrate." Eve responded in kind.
I took a moment to process the information presented to me.
"Okay... where?"
"You should know... you're the one taking me out to dinner."
She smiled at me as the cab parked up beside us.
"Taco Bell sound good?" I asked, almost scared of a response.
".............." Eve stared blankly at me as I shrugged my shoulders.
"I know it isn't exactly the gourmet meals you are probably used to, but at this hour it is likely the best we can do. Besides, I know the secret menu items."
"Very impressive." Eve said jokingly.
She gave me a playful shove and we climbed into the cab. I was getting a second chance at Eve, at least I hoped I was getting a second chance. She may just be playing me again like she did before. No, she seemed different this time. This was a nicer, more responsive Eve. For some reason her demeanor almost disarmed me. Ninety nine percent of my time with girls was spent on the end game, the score. Tonight, at least so far, it felt different. I tried to do the classic yawn and stretch and place my arm around Eve, but she was wise to it.
"Trying to make your move so quickly?"
I turned red with embarrassment, though Eve didn't seem to care that I tried a teenage classic.
"So if you don't mind my asking, what are your plans now that your...Sun....Sunsu....Sunshi..."
"Senshuken."
"Yeah, that thing. What are you going to do without it?" I asked, with some apprehension in my voice.
"I'm not sure. When you have something for so long, it almost becomes a part of you. So for now, I guess I will have to fill that void with something else."
My first instinct usually would have been that Eve could fill her void with my thing any day, but this time I was intrigued. For the first time in some while I cared not about sex, but about the words coming from Eve's mouth. Almost as if they themselves could fill a void in my own life. Before I could continue the cab arrived at a twenty four hour Taco Bell. I paid the fare and we set off inside. Those who were still awake at this devilish hour turned their heads when they saw us walk in. For a moment I though we were going to be hounded for autographs, then I realized why they were staring. Me, Mikey Stormrage with a bandage on my face, was out with former professional model Eve Taylor in a Taco Bell. I must have looked like a kidnapper or something. We walked to the counter and I ordered.
"Yeah, three cheesy potato burritos, two Doritos Locos Tacos supreme, a double grilled Quesadilla, an Incredible Hulk, and the biggest Mt. Dew Baja Blast freeze you have....oh what would you like Eve?"
"I'll just have a taco, no sour cream."
"What are you, on a diet?" I laughed.
"I do try to maintain my figure." She smiled politely.
"And might I say, what a lovely figure it is." I reached down and kissed Eve's hand. She blushed.
Soon our order arrived and we ate.
"So what do you think will happen during the Roulette Rounds?" I asked between giant bites of food.
Eve, ever the lady, took small bites and wiped her mouth with each bite she took.
"Well I hope to get a title shot, or at least a high profile match. The Roulette Rounds have been kind to you over the years haven't they?"
"Currently undefeated with wins over four former World Champions. Ricky Runn in a street fight, Dr. Zeus and Beard in a tag match, and Theron last year in a hardware store. I guess you could say luck is on my side when we go to Vegas."
"So big wins during the Roulette Rounds, five championships to your name, knowledgeable of secret fast food menus, is there anything you can't do?"
I took another giant bite of my burrito before answering.
"I can't seem to find consistent friends." I said with a mouthful.
"What do you mean? You are the greatest tag team wrestler in WZCW history, you built Strikeforce and Live Mas off the backs of great friendships with James Howard and Matt Tastic."
I nodded my head, as if to say Eve was correct as I took another bite.
"Yeah, but you saw how James Howard treated me when I won the big one, and I just went through hell, literally, against Matt. If you hang around me long enough, I'm sure you will end up hating me too."
"I don't think I could ever hate you."
"What was that?"
"Oh nothing. Just saying this taco is spicy."
"You should try it with the Verde Sauce, it will change your world."
Soon we finished eating and set out on foot for the next adventure. By random chance we happened to find an old time arcade that had late hours, so Eve and I went inside and played some games, the most notable of which being Mortal Kombat.
"You know, no one has ever beaten me at Mortal Kombat. You should just give up and save yourself the humiliation."
Eve, as Katana, battled me ferociously, but she was no match for my Sub-Zero dominance. Just as I was about to finish Eve off, something came over me, and I let her win, though I will never admit to it.
"Holy shit!" I did my best to seem surprised.
"So no one has beaten you, until now." Eve flashed a sly grin.
I shrugged my shoulders and accepted my faux defeat.
"I guess there is a first time for everything."
Before I could put another quarter in the machine, Eve grabbed my hand and took off running. I did my best to catch up.
"Where are we going?" I yelled to Eve, who was faster than me.
"You'll see!" She yelled back.
Soon we were at the edge of the Navy Pier, and we watched the reflection of the moon across the calm waters of Lake Michigan.
"The view is beautiful isn't it?"
I looked not out into the water but at Eve.
"From where I'm standing, it's perfect."
Eve caught onto what I was saying and she lowered her head and blushed. Soon the chill of the air off the water got to Eve, and I could feel her trying to warm herself. I moved closer and put my arm around her. This was my chance, I leaned in to kiss her, but just as I did she pulled away and took off her shoes and jumped out of sight into the water below.
"Come on and jump, or are you too chicken?!?" She yelled from below.
I hesitated, before I climbed the railing of the pier. I was unsure of what lie below, just like I was unsure where not only my personal life, but my fed life was headed.
"Fuck it." I said to myself before I jumped headfirst into the unknown.
****At Awakened Spirits****
As usual , Xaitlyn is sleeping along with Ennette on a rocking chair.
Suddenly, Xaitlyn wakes up as she smells something unusual happening in her dark home. She again tries to smell and she did find something strange and unknown. She immediately decides to go to the area of the home from where the smell was comin'. Therefore, she cozily picks up sleepin' Ennette and stands up and keeps it back on the rockin' chair gradually.
She gets to her knees and starts crawling keepin' in mind that her movement doesn't make any noise. When she gets near that room, she cleverly sneaks into the room. And as she expected, there are 3 intruders in her home. A normal human would've panicked but Xaitlyn rather smirks on seein' them. The open window near the intruders suggest that they encroached via it.
On the other hand, The three big intruders are confused at findin' no light in that room. Instead of attacking strategically, Xaitlyn just reveals her presence in the room to those three.
The 3 intruders are alerted initially but after seeing that it's a 5'7" woman, they start laughin' makin' fun of her "little" size.
#1: I think that I am enough to handle this "small" obstacle to our mission.
#2 and #3 agree with him without any thought. #1 goes towards Xaitlyn but as soon as he gets in her range, she hits him with a Meia-Lua De Compasso Kick knockin' him out cold. #2 and #3 get terrified at this action of hers.
They both back down towards the same window but the window gets shut on it's own much to their dismay. They turn back towards Xaitlyn again who has closed her eyes and then opens her arms and swing them back thus joinin' both hands.
Immediately, she turns into an Inland Taipan thus doubling the terror in the minds of both intruders.
#2: Oh My God! What the hell is this?
#3: I guess she's an Icchadhari Naagin.
Xaitlyn turns back into a human being and smirks on her identity being revealed while #2 and #3 exchange comments about her.
#2: What the hell is that thing?
#3: Any female snake which completes 100 years, get the spiritual powers for changin' its forms and preserving its poison by not biting any living being.
#2 watches #3 with reverence. Xaitlyn runs towards both of them and hit a double forearm to their faces knock them down on the floor. As they try to recover and gets on their knees after a double dozen seconds, She nails both of them with a double runnin' knee knocking them out cold.
With all three knocked out on the floor, she utters some daring comments:
Xaitlyn: Thanks a lot, you three. It was a great practice for me to tackle "big" opponents. Now come Roulette Rounds, My opponent could be anyone, be it an outspoken World Champ, or a chickens*it EurAsian Champ, or a "broken then, now getting glued" Elite Openweight Champ, or a "royal" duo of a quick-witted politician and a ruthless yet easily brainwashed monster, or a fantasy game addict, All Shall Thole The Wrath Of The Defiant Deviless!
FlexAmerican Dynamite
WZCW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION
[YOUTUBE]M2NIMHVmGwk[/YOUTUBE]
Music blares as the monsieur of muscle Flex Mussel can be seen in his private home gym standing across from his recently discovered long lost sister Maria Mussel. Both begin wrapping tape around their wrists and putting gloves over their hands. No looks of joy or intentions of learning more about each other. They just proceed to stretch their biceps and hamstrings before they begin to size each other up in a test of strength. Flex’s number one fan Charles “The Cheesecake” Chesterfield watches on while shoving popcorn into his mouth.
Maria: You sure you want to do this? I can tell you’re a little bruised and battered after Unscripted.
Flex: I didn’t let multiple injuries stop me from finally getting rid of Slaughter. So I’m surely not going to let it get in the way of finding out if you’re a real Mussel, or if you’re one in name only.
Maria: Well it’ll be a shame to crush your ego so soon after finding out you were my brother, but if you’re so determined than so be it.
Flex: You really think you’re stronger than me don’t you?
Maria: While you had to change from disgusting obese toddler to the bodybuilder you are now I’ll have you know I’ve always been physical perfection. Dad made sure of it.
Flex: I’m sure he did….
The bodybuilder’s demeanor changes as he goes over toward the bench press with two hundred pounds on each side. He quickly gets into position and begins furiously lifting away.
Maria: Do you need me to spot you?
Flex: The fact *grunts* that you asked *grunts* that proves you’re *grunts* not on my level! *grunts*
Flex stops at an impressive 50 reps of 400 pounds as he begins doing jumping jacks to cool down.
Flex: You’re turn sis.
Maria is hesitant but she eventually gets into position and begins her turn on the bench press. She struggles a bit at first causing Flex to smirk and then she seems to have trouble getting the weight up at all causing her older brother to be concerned. He begins moving toward her looking to help but is stopped by her command.
Maria: Don’t you dare help me….I got this…
At that moment Maria begins lifting again and while she struggles a bit more she eventually hones her form and his able to just barely get to 51 reps of 400 pounds but has trouble getting the weight off her until Flex helps.
Maria: Beat…that…
Charles: Man that was hot….
Flex: Seem to have had a bit of trouble there.
Maria: Nope *Breathes Heavily* completely fine…
Maria begins gasping for air until she downs a few Flex Fitness protein shakes.
Flex: Great perseverance there Maria, we’ll have to do this again after I’m done with my real training.
Maria: Real training? What the hell did we just do?!
Flex: That was just the warm up; I need to do some real exercising for the roulette rounds.
Maria: Roulette rounds?
Charles: They’re the most unpredictable week of shows in WZCW! Which is actually very strange considering we just had a PPV called Unscripted…but regardless nobody knows who they will be facing nor the match type! Absolutely anything could happen!
Flex: Indeed, I could be facing anyone and everyone. Whether it is a young and promising upstart like Logan McAllister or even a seasoned veteran like Ramparte…
Charles: Aww man I’d love for it to be him, so you can finally prove just how much better you are than that poetry snob!
Flex: Watch it Charles.
Charles: Aww come on you need to beat him! Do you want to be considered nothing but an ensemble player for the rest of your career? Times are changing in WZCW. Legends like Carmen Bratchny are back, Vis Imperium have cleaned house on championships, and even Garth Black is the new World champion. You can’t be stuck in the past, you need a new plan to move forward.
Flex: It’s actually really funny you mention that. Despite being of legendary status Bratchny is no Showtime Cougar. Who I’ll remind you I retired not only because I beat him but simply because I am better than him. Vis Imperium captured the Elite and tag team titles in one night? Congrats, want to know who did it first and better? Cerberus. And don’t even get me started on Garth Black. Everyone wants to hashtag I Stand with Garth and claim corporate conspiracies but where was the love for me when management openly wanted to destroy my career? Garth is a World class complainer, but outside of getting lucky by capitalizing on boring melodrama that is the Live Mas relationship he’s overrated and overpraised. I remember beating Garth Black in about 90 seconds. Where’s my title shot? Guess he’ll claim he was on a bender and sweep it under the rug. I’ve been distracted long enough on none important matters. I came here to be the absolute best. So I’ll take on anyone in this company and prove why I am and forever will be the best. I don’t need a new plan, so I’ll stick to one that’s tried and true, fear no one, and clothesline everyone.
Charles: Man that was hot…
Maria: Jesus do you have an off button?
Charles: Not when anyone with the last name Mussel is around.
[YOUTUBE]OBpH5_UPELY[/YOUTUBE]
Flex’s new ringtone blares interrupting the conversation at hand.
Maria: You’ve really been into rap lately. I remember just two weeks ago all I would hear in this place is Queen and the Rocky soundtrack.
Flex: I guess Creed inspired to change up tastes a bit. Something about it just sounds entrancing.
The fitness freak answers the phone as Charles awkwardly tries to take a selfie with Maria.
Flex: Hello? Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.
The healthiest man alive hangs up the phone and starts heading toward the exit of his private gym.
Maria: Where you going? I thought it was work out time?
Flex: I’ll have to reschedule, there’s been an emergency meeting called at Flex Fitness Headquarters.
Maria: I thought you were going to see Mom later today.
Flex: I’ll reschedule with her too, I’m sure she’ll understand, I need to make sure the business that’s paying for all her hospital bills is still intact. You’re welcome to come if you want. Who knows maybe one day you’ll run the business yourself.
Maria: If it’ll get me away from this creep then why not.
Charles: Anywhere Flex goes I go!
Maria: Of course you do….
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Later that day Flex, Maria, Charles can be seen walking into a corporate office with an oval table of corporate executives sitting in the middle.
Flex: Hello gentlemen, what’s the topic of today’s meeting?
Corporate Executive #1: Welcome Flex, and the topic today is you.
Corporate Executive #2: And whether you’re fit to still run this company.
Flex: Excuse me?! I am this company!
???: In name yes, but outside of that your contribution has been extremely slim in recent months.
The interruption comes from the other side of the room as one of the executives interjects into the conversation. The executive is a woman with blonde hair who Flex has never before.
Margaret: Hi, my name is Margaret Kingsley.
Flex: And who are you?
Margaret: Well depending on the imminent vote potentially the new CEO of Flex Fitness Industries.
Corporate Executive #1: Ms. Kingsley as shown an incredible promise and potential while also picking up the slack in terms of absence from the company Flex.
Flex: What slack?!
Margaret: While you’ve been traveling with WZCW Mr. Mussel the company’s stock has fallen quite a bit as you’ve missed press junkets, autograph signings, and weekly training sessions meaning cliental morale is at an all time low. We’ve looked into our financial reports and seems you’ve even been using corporate funds to pay medical bills not only for your wrestling endeavors but that of your mothers.
Corporate Executive: Unacceptable Flex.
Margaret: Indeed it is, your public image and waning popularity in WZCW is hurting the Flex Fitness brand. And I think it’s time we took it in a different direction.
Flex: And that direction is getting rid of the creator whose name is in the title?
Margaret: Not exactly, you will still be a distant figurehead but we’re in early development to begin modeling our advertising around Flex Fitness training success stories such as the following.
An assistant hands Flex a poster of former WZCW superstar Joe West holding a bottle of lemon propel while flexing in one his signature T-Shirts.
Flex: Flex Fitness: Making you the best in the west?!
Margaret: Once again, we’re in early development. But look at me I’m getting ahead of myself. We need to vote first. All those in favor of Margaret Kingsley replacing Flex Mussel as CEO say raise your hand.
The entire Executive table raises their hands in a lopsided victory for Margaret.
Margaret: Well then it’s settled then, thanks again for coming Flex and sorry if we blindsided you here. We just needed a new plan to move forward.
The new CEO’s fake sympathy quickly fades as she and the rest of the executives quickly exit the room only leaving Flex, Maria, and Charles who are completely shock.
Maria: You’ve been paying Mom’s hospital bills with corporate money?!
Flex: Now is not the time.
Maria: Well considering that corporate money is now out of your control I’d say now is that time.
Flex: I’ll figure out a way to get it back.
Maria: How? When you’re busy getting more concussions in the ring? This wrestling thing isn’t working out Flex. You need a new plan to move forward.
Flex: That is the third time I’ve heard that today! And to be quite honest I’m getting sick of it. I don’t need a new plan. I need to get back to my original one. I had two simple goals when I first came into WZCW: Make the world a healthier place and prove I’m the physically gifted athlete in all of professional wrestling. But somewhere along the way I got sidetracked and I’ve lost focus of both. But I’m no longer going to wait around and wonder when it’s my time to finally shine. With the company no longer in my possession I have no choice but to everything in my power earn gold and the accolades I know I can achieve. Not only just for me, but for the Mussel family name.
Charles: But what are you going to do about making the world a healthier place? You’re no longer in control of Flex Fitness.
Flex: I think I’ve got an idea on how to deal with that. But first I need an abandoned house, two medium sized convenient stores worth of junk food, and an infinite playlist of today’s most popular rap music.
Charles: I’m on it boss!
The independent wrestler does his best attempt at sprint to follow Flex’s orders.
Maria: What are you planning Flex?
Flex: To do what needs to be done: Making the World Healthy Again.
So what now?
The world constantly turns. It's best you keep moving or get caught in the wheel.
Matt: I really don't get it. I tried to get to her. I tried my best in the ring. It seems I ended up failing in both ends.
???: Maybe you're just not as great as you thought you were.
Matt: I've never thought as myself as great. Just capable.
???: Then maybe you're no longer capable.
Matt: No. I am still capable. I will show you.
???: Good. That's what I like to see in you. My grandson. How are things in your end?
We finally see something Matt stands in front of a large, empty house. Adorned with all sorts of relics around it. A vinyl record player, hammocks made of palm leaves, murals and more. Matt raises his arms high and mighty into the air.
Matt: There is a lot of old shit here. But I better get to work.
The world constantly turns. It's best you keep moving or get caught in the wheel.
Matt: I really don't get it. I tried to get to her. I tried my best in the ring. It seems I ended up failing in both ends.
???: Maybe you're just not as great as you thought you were.
Matt: I've never thought as myself as great. Just capable.
???: Then maybe you're no longer capable.
Matt: No. I am still capable. I will show you.
???: Good. That's what I like to see in you. My grandson. How are things in your end?
We finally see something Matt stands in front of a large, empty house. Adorned with all sorts of relics around it. A vinyl record player, hammocks made of palm leaves, murals and more. Matt raises his arms high and mighty into the air.
Matt: There is a lot of old shit here. But I better get to work.
Steven is sitting by himself in a fairly upscale restaurant. He is dressed in a nice button down shirt and his normally messy hair is neatly combed and parted. He nervously goes back and forth between reading the menu and sipping his water when he spots his date. He stands up to greet her with a big goofy smile.
Jessica: Ugh. You?
Stevens date tonight is Noah Ryder's ex fiancee Jessica, who does not look happy at all to see Steven.
Steven: Nice seeing you too gorgeous.
Jessica drops her purse on the table and continues to bitch.
You told me on the phone that you were Michael Phelps' agent. I knew it was you, you lying fuck.
Classy. I knew of no other way to get you to come see me. You've avoided us like we're a couple of lepers.
Coincidentally, Steven scratches himself on his shoulder, and then his rib area. Jessica appears slightly disgusted, and slowly sits down.
Well I have been extremely busy with work. I hope you understand that I dropped a lot to see Michael Phelps tonight. Do you have any idea how stressful my life is?
Steven rolls his eyes as a waiter greets them.
Waiter: Good evening. Shall I get you anything to eat or drink to start?
Would you be willing to split an appetizer? I didn't bring a lot of money.
Jessica stares at Steven blankly.
I'll have a shot of vodka and a glass of your sparkling house wine.
Excellent, and for you sir.
Another glass of water. A slice of lime on the side this time, please.
But of course, sir.
The waiter leaves with his nose up high, leaving Steven and Jessica alone.
So, I take it this meeting has something to do with Leonard.
So you do know who he is. All these years I thought you were the one who suffered from horrible memory loss.
Steven is beginning to shout and draws the attention of some nearby diners.
Sorry, it sounded better in my head.
Is this why you wanted to see me, so you can vent out your frustration over something that happened almost 4 years ago?
You left us Jessica. You left Leonard, and every day he thinks you'll see him tonight.
That's not my problem. The Leonard I fell in love with died that day of the accident. I can't hold his hand and guide him though every single day of his life. I have a career, I have a life, and I can't do either with Leonard.
You gave up on Leonard.
Fine, maybe I didn't try hard enough, but he's not my burden. You've been with him since I left, you understand how much of your time you have to devote. What have you done with your life aside from guiding Leonards? Why do you stay?
Because if I don't then he's going to wake up confused and sad each day until he ends up in a looney bin! That's my best friend!
Steven leans forward and dramatically shouts this. The restaurant goes silent for a moment before everyone around them resumes eating. The waiter has returned with their drinks. Jessica downs her vodka and then sips from her wine.
I'm sorry.
She puts a hand on Stevens, who pulls it back.
How is Leonard?
He's doing good. He's currently wrestling in WZCW.
He finally made it, wow. I bet he asks you every day about debuting in WZCW. I remember he was so excited.
Yea, It's a friendly reminder that all is well. Honestly the adventures I could tell you. I wanted to get your help on something though. I'm not sure if you know this, but when you left I took courses on how to schedule and manage lives.
Jessica shakes her head no.
Didn't think so. Bet you didn't know I run my own business before ran me down. Anyway, I devised a way Leonard to be kept in the loop, and the result created a very bitter and resentful side of Leonard. Violent too, the way he would lash out and attack...
Steven looks at Jessica, who is purposefully looking away sipping her drink. She looks back to see Steven looking at her.
You know this. We're you at one of his ANT shows?
I went to one almost a year after I left. I wanted to see him again. And, I couldn't believe what he did to that man. It was just...
I was scared of what I saw. I left almost right after.
He was scary. And when WZCW called, he wanted to make a fresh start. So he entrusted me with his years on notes. Lately I've been going through them and I discovered that... he planned on killing me.
Steven! Why would he want to kill you?
I... I... I think there must be some misinformation in his notes confusing him.
What if he relapses in WZCW and goes back to this.
Oh I'm not too worried about that, he already did relapse and he didn't try to kill me.
Didn't?
Yea, because he burned his new set of notes and started over again.
And you don't think maybe he would've stored multiple copies on these notes elsewhere, just in case.
Steven freezes still. Jessica stands up to leave.
You got to start coming back. He needs you.
I can't. And you should get out now while you can.
Jessica hugs Steven quickly and leaves the restaurant. Steven looks around and throws down his napkin.
Well, if she's dinning and asking, than so am I.
----------
Steven arrives home at the apartment. He notices a light shining outside over their balcony. He opens the screen door and Noah Ryder is sitting there with a beer in hand.
Ryder: Hey Steven, you got here just in time.
Noah hands over a case for 6 beer bottles, with 2 beers left inside. Steven happily takes one and opens it.
Thanks a lot.
They both clink bottles and just stare up at the stars for a minute.
Tomorrows the big day right. I'm really looking forward to it
It sure is man. You are going to kick some ass.
I just want to be good.
You are. And you're going to be great.
Noah smiles at Steven and nods his head. He takes the last of his beer and stands up.
I'm gonna head to bed now man. Big day tomorrow.
Noah heads over to the screen door. Steven takes a large sip from his beer.
Next time you see Jessica, make sure to bring her to me.
Steven spits out most of his beer.
What?
When you see her tomorrow while I'm at the arena, come find me. I'm sure you see her before I do.
Yea, of course.
Noah heads inside and Steven reaches down for another beer, frequently looking over his shoulder.
The biggest advantage that I have going into this match is that my opponent has no idea who I am or what I am thinking.
No you don't Nobody does. It's the roulette rounds.
Noah Ryder is currently in the middle of an interview with Stacey Madison. Noah clears the air.
I didn't know that.
Stacey: That doesn't surprise me.
More awkward silence follows. Noah lifts up his left hand, holding the KFAD briefcase, and scratches his head trying to come up with something to say. He snaps his fingers.
How awesome is it though that at the highly anticipated Meltdown Madness or Ascension Anarchy I will be making my debut in WZCW. And nobody will see it coming.
No they won't.
And the possibilities of who I could be facing. Justin Cooper, Elite X championship match. How awesome would that be to win gold here tonight. Or I could face Chris K.O., Steven Holmes, Steven Kurtesy, Celeste Crimson, Armando Paradyse. The list goes on. How awesome would be to face a returning Austin Reynolds. Or even a Carmen Bratchny. I think the one I most want to face right now would be the legend, Titus.
Noah slaps the backside of his KFAD briefcase, the one without the logo.
The opponent isn't important though. The stipulation isn't important. Everything else, the ring, the ropes, the referee, the time keeper, the ring announcer, the announcers, the fans, me, that's what's important. Tonight I'm going to go out there and whoever I face, what ever the stipulation may be, I'm going to compete, I'm going to succeed, I'm going to win. And you can bet on that.
Jessica: Ugh. You?
Stevens date tonight is Noah Ryder's ex fiancee Jessica, who does not look happy at all to see Steven.
Steven: Nice seeing you too gorgeous.
Jessica drops her purse on the table and continues to bitch.
You told me on the phone that you were Michael Phelps' agent. I knew it was you, you lying fuck.
Classy. I knew of no other way to get you to come see me. You've avoided us like we're a couple of lepers.
Coincidentally, Steven scratches himself on his shoulder, and then his rib area. Jessica appears slightly disgusted, and slowly sits down.
Well I have been extremely busy with work. I hope you understand that I dropped a lot to see Michael Phelps tonight. Do you have any idea how stressful my life is?
Steven rolls his eyes as a waiter greets them.
Waiter: Good evening. Shall I get you anything to eat or drink to start?
Would you be willing to split an appetizer? I didn't bring a lot of money.
Jessica stares at Steven blankly.
I'll have a shot of vodka and a glass of your sparkling house wine.
Excellent, and for you sir.
Another glass of water. A slice of lime on the side this time, please.
But of course, sir.
The waiter leaves with his nose up high, leaving Steven and Jessica alone.
So, I take it this meeting has something to do with Leonard.
So you do know who he is. All these years I thought you were the one who suffered from horrible memory loss.
Steven is beginning to shout and draws the attention of some nearby diners.
Sorry, it sounded better in my head.
Is this why you wanted to see me, so you can vent out your frustration over something that happened almost 4 years ago?
You left us Jessica. You left Leonard, and every day he thinks you'll see him tonight.
That's not my problem. The Leonard I fell in love with died that day of the accident. I can't hold his hand and guide him though every single day of his life. I have a career, I have a life, and I can't do either with Leonard.
You gave up on Leonard.
Fine, maybe I didn't try hard enough, but he's not my burden. You've been with him since I left, you understand how much of your time you have to devote. What have you done with your life aside from guiding Leonards? Why do you stay?
Because if I don't then he's going to wake up confused and sad each day until he ends up in a looney bin! That's my best friend!
Steven leans forward and dramatically shouts this. The restaurant goes silent for a moment before everyone around them resumes eating. The waiter has returned with their drinks. Jessica downs her vodka and then sips from her wine.
I'm sorry.
She puts a hand on Stevens, who pulls it back.
How is Leonard?
He's doing good. He's currently wrestling in WZCW.
He finally made it, wow. I bet he asks you every day about debuting in WZCW. I remember he was so excited.
Yea, It's a friendly reminder that all is well. Honestly the adventures I could tell you. I wanted to get your help on something though. I'm not sure if you know this, but when you left I took courses on how to schedule and manage lives.
Jessica shakes her head no.
Didn't think so. Bet you didn't know I run my own business before ran me down. Anyway, I devised a way Leonard to be kept in the loop, and the result created a very bitter and resentful side of Leonard. Violent too, the way he would lash out and attack...
Steven looks at Jessica, who is purposefully looking away sipping her drink. She looks back to see Steven looking at her.
You know this. We're you at one of his ANT shows?
I went to one almost a year after I left. I wanted to see him again. And, I couldn't believe what he did to that man. It was just...
I was scared of what I saw. I left almost right after.
He was scary. And when WZCW called, he wanted to make a fresh start. So he entrusted me with his years on notes. Lately I've been going through them and I discovered that... he planned on killing me.
Steven! Why would he want to kill you?
I... I... I think there must be some misinformation in his notes confusing him.
What if he relapses in WZCW and goes back to this.
Oh I'm not too worried about that, he already did relapse and he didn't try to kill me.
Didn't?
Yea, because he burned his new set of notes and started over again.
And you don't think maybe he would've stored multiple copies on these notes elsewhere, just in case.
Steven freezes still. Jessica stands up to leave.
You got to start coming back. He needs you.
I can't. And you should get out now while you can.
Jessica hugs Steven quickly and leaves the restaurant. Steven looks around and throws down his napkin.
Well, if she's dinning and asking, than so am I.
----------
Steven arrives home at the apartment. He notices a light shining outside over their balcony. He opens the screen door and Noah Ryder is sitting there with a beer in hand.
Ryder: Hey Steven, you got here just in time.
Noah hands over a case for 6 beer bottles, with 2 beers left inside. Steven happily takes one and opens it.
Thanks a lot.
They both clink bottles and just stare up at the stars for a minute.
Tomorrows the big day right. I'm really looking forward to it
It sure is man. You are going to kick some ass.
I just want to be good.
You are. And you're going to be great.
Noah smiles at Steven and nods his head. He takes the last of his beer and stands up.
I'm gonna head to bed now man. Big day tomorrow.
Noah heads over to the screen door. Steven takes a large sip from his beer.
Next time you see Jessica, make sure to bring her to me.
Steven spits out most of his beer.
What?
When you see her tomorrow while I'm at the arena, come find me. I'm sure you see her before I do.
Yea, of course.
Noah heads inside and Steven reaches down for another beer, frequently looking over his shoulder.
The biggest advantage that I have going into this match is that my opponent has no idea who I am or what I am thinking.
No you don't Nobody does. It's the roulette rounds.
Noah Ryder is currently in the middle of an interview with Stacey Madison. Noah clears the air.
I didn't know that.
Stacey: That doesn't surprise me.
More awkward silence follows. Noah lifts up his left hand, holding the KFAD briefcase, and scratches his head trying to come up with something to say. He snaps his fingers.
How awesome is it though that at the highly anticipated Meltdown Madness or Ascension Anarchy I will be making my debut in WZCW. And nobody will see it coming.
No they won't.
And the possibilities of who I could be facing. Justin Cooper, Elite X championship match. How awesome would that be to win gold here tonight. Or I could face Chris K.O., Steven Holmes, Steven Kurtesy, Celeste Crimson, Armando Paradyse. The list goes on. How awesome would be to face a returning Austin Reynolds. Or even a Carmen Bratchny. I think the one I most want to face right now would be the legend, Titus.
Noah slaps the backside of his KFAD briefcase, the one without the logo.
The opponent isn't important though. The stipulation isn't important. Everything else, the ring, the ropes, the referee, the time keeper, the ring announcer, the announcers, the fans, me, that's what's important. Tonight I'm going to go out there and whoever I face, what ever the stipulation may be, I'm going to compete, I'm going to succeed, I'm going to win. And you can bet on that.
K Web V3
The Premier Provider
Backstage after Unscripted
Logan McAllister was seen limping slowly to the back, his leg battered and sore as he got closer to his locker room. As he turned the corner, his son crashed into his leg dropping the Bostonian to one knee as Hayden started excitedly congratulating his dad about his victory.
Hayden: Dad! You won! That Howard thought he had you beat by trying to hurt your leg, but you showed him! Boston Massacre! 1-2-3!!! It was awesome dad, do you know who you're gonna challenge yet?
Logan laughed, as he moved his son to the side a little, and standing up, wincing slightly as the adrenaline was draining, the pain was steadily increasing. Thankfully, there was some downtime between Unscripted and the Roulette Round, so he knew he'd be fine. Logan gently squeezed Hayden's shoulders and the two began walking back to the locker as Logan finally answered all his son's questions.
Logan: Yea buddy, I got the win. Howahd is a tough bastahd, but in the end I showed I was the better man. As for who I challenge? Right now I kinda have to just wait. With the Roulette Round, the current champions may not even still be champion when it comes time to collect my shot. Titus Avison and Austin Reynolds. Both are tough, both bring their own set of difficulties. But for now, let's go get Brittany and head home, rechahge our battahries before we focus on what's next okay buddy?
Hayden smiled and nodded at his dad as they walked into the locker room. Brittany was there, beaming from ear to ear and rushing over and hugging him, her leg colliding into Logan's injured leg. Logan buckles for a brief second before regaining his balance. He notices everything is packed up and ready to go, Brittany anxious to get to finally spend some time home and not have to constantly be on the move.
Brittany: Congratulations babe! Howahd couldn't beat you without cheap tactics. I got everything ready let's go enjoy Boston before stressing about the Roulette Round.
Logan simply nodded and took his fiancée's hand, grabbing the bags as the family headed out of the arena towards a little rest and relaxation
Boston MA, Logan's House
It was a cool Saturday night in Boston, a few scattered clouds and a nice breeze. Logan had the door open, as well as the windows. Hayden was tucked away in his room, playing Destiny on his ps4, a bag of chips and a fat jug of punch on his table.
Brittany was in the kitchen, making her delicious homemade chicken pot pie. She'd been preparing it all evening, and now with the pies in the oven, the house was being flooded by the aroma of the chicken and vegetables baking away. Logan could hear her singing, and peeked into the kitchen from his spot on the couch, watching her dancing in her Red Sox wife beater and booty shorts. Logan takes in the view until Brittany catches him, her face turning a bright red as she walks over an sits on the arm of the couch next to Logan.
Logan: Dinnah smells wicked amazing Britt. Can't wait to taste it!
Brittany smiles at her man, sliding next to him on the couch, draping her legs across his lap.
Brittany: Well it won't be ready for about an hour babe.
Logan: That's fine. There's something I wanna talk to you about anyways. With Hayden getting oldah, and me finally securing a stable job, it might be time for him to stop traveling arena to arena and really start focusing on his school and getting him into a normal routine. On top of that, more and more opponents are taking aim at Hayden, and at you and it's starting to turn into a weakness. What happens if one of these competitahs decide to strike against Hayden in ordah to get to me?? I can't have that happen if I can prevent it.
Brittany looks down at Logan, and after a pause she nods her head, agreeing with Logan
Logan: That would mean you would need to stay behind as well Brit...If I can't be here to watch him everyday, then I need you to be with him. You're the only one I can trust,and the only way I can do this and not stress about whether Hayden is okay or not.
Brittany stands up quickly, a confused look on her face
Brittany: So you don't want me to travel with you eithah? But Logan I'm you're managah! You need me with you out there.
Logan: It's not like that Brittany. I'd love to have you by my side 24/7, but we need to think like a family. I need you. I need you to stay here with our son, and raise him while I'm on the road. You guys can still come to all the ppv matches. I love you Brittany, and you are the only person in this world that I would leave Hayden with. So, will you do it? For us babe.
Brittany listens as Logan explains his reasoning, and she can't help but to start to tear up as Logan refers to Hayden as "Our" son. She wipes the tears before taking a deep breath and answering her handsome Logan.
Brittany: Yes. I'll do it for our family Logan, but only after we get married. Ill stay home with our son once I'm Mrs. Logan McAllister.
Logan: That..sounds fair. We'll be married by Kingdom Come Brittany. Then we'll begin trying to lead a semi normal life as a family.
Logan smiles at his future wife as the timer goes off on the oven, signaling the pot pies are done. Brittany leans in and kisses Logan on his forehead as she goes to pull out the deliciously smelling dinner. Both pies come out golden brown and Brittany begins getting the bread and butter ready.
Logan: Hayden! Save your game and come set the table, it's dinner time!
Hayden comes running out of his room, happily placing the plates and silverware on the table as they prepared for a rare family dinner at home.
Thomas and Mack Arena, Night of the Roulette
Logan McAllister is walking backstage, pacing back and forth on front of the spot he was supposed to meet Stacey Madison Logan actually enjoyed these little interviews prior to the event, gave him another way to get amped up before the unpredictably that was sure to come tonight.
Stacey: Ladies and Gentlemen I'm here with Logan McAllister as he prepares for the uncertainty that is the Roulette Round. Logan, first off congratulations on your big win versus James Howard, and your subsequent title shot. Any thoughts on who you'd like to face?
Logan smiles at Stacey before replying, a very determined look on his face as he proceeds to answer her question.
Logan: Thanks Stacey, I told ya I'd handle Howahd,and now I get a chance to fulfill my promise to my son sooner than expected. Now neither opponent is easy, and I have a little history with both of the current champions..Austin and his cheap shotting friends in Vis Imperium, and the equally devious Titus Avison. As of now, I think im leaning towards Titus. Mainly for the fact that I just dont like him, and think that winning gold and pleasing my son will be extra sweet if I also end his dominance. But, we're getting ahead of ourselves. Who's to say eithah man is still champ after tonight? Maybe I face one, and then face the other next round. Hell Stacey I could roulette my way into a heavyweight title shot, and possibly claim the top belt in this company. I don't know what I face tonight, but I'm determined to carry my momentum from Unscripted, through tonight and into my championship shot next round. Austin, Titus, I hope you both keep your titles tonight, because I'm coming for both of you. I want you both wondering if it's you I'll be choosing, all the way up til that moment of truth comes, and you lay in a heap from the Boston Massacre as I walk away victorious and with gold around my waste at your expense.
Before Stacey can reply, Logan has already turned and left down the hall, looking ready for whatever comes his way tonight. Championship shot, bar room brawl, it doesn't matter. Logan is hell bent on keeping his momentum going heading into his championship opportunity. In his mind, he knew whose belt he wanted... now he had to wait and see if they'd still be holding the title at the end of the night.
- Status
