WrestleZone Weekend '13: David Whitman vs. Ricky Runn (For Advantage in War Games)

[Harthan]

Right before the unprecedented Pay-Per-View known as Kingdom Come, WZCW will be featuring a special fan access weekend where everybody who has purchased tickets can participate in an array of activities such as autograph signings, a WZCW '13 video game tournament and most importantly, a special bonus show where WZCW Superstars will be set to compete in a number of matches. There, David Whitman will take on Ricky Runn where the winner will earn the man advantage for their team in the epic War Games contest at Kingdom Come V!

Deadline is Thursday July 25, 2013 @ 11:59 P.M. (Central). No Extensions​

 

[Slice]

The screen suddenly comes into view in glorious HD. It feels as if every single detail of the empty arena is visible as the camera slowly pans around then stops on David Whitman.

Clad in his wrestling attire and standing in the middle of the ring, he stares at the camera, almost like a serious professor giving a lecture on physics.

And in an odd way, he kind of is.

"The reckless risk-taker of the wrestling ring."

He holds the mic in his right hand the appropriate distance from his face as he speaks.

"The Evil Knievel of the Equilateral Circle."

He takes a deep breath as almost frowns at the camera.

"The well-meaning man with bad luck like Butters Stotch on Coke and scotch."

He shakes his head disapprovingly at his own line, looks off to the side and then turns his attention back to the camera.

"You need to know that I'm not one for promos. Always found them to be redundant, really. Oh sure, it might have been useful back in the day; psychological warfare, mental advantages, all that jazz. But you and I both know how wrestling really works, Ricky."

Taking two steps back, he stops exactly two feet from ropes and continues.

"You get in there and moonsault off the top rope. You fly around the ring, dazzling the crowd and making all the fans scream as loud as they can. Excitement, adrenaline, ticket sales!" He punctuates each of the last words by thumping a fist to his heart.

"But this is no game. This is no beauty pageant. When the bells and whistles, the cheap thrills, the dumb jokes and name-calling, the "I'm-better-than-you"s and "that-belt-is-mine"s, when they're all stripped away and dissolved, it comes down to ability. I see it in you. And, if I were in charge of the matches, I know I would be hard-pressed to find a match that would thrill the smarks more than Ricky Runn versus David Whitman. Our styles are very similar, and both of us have a history of leaving the crowd speechless. This is not boasting. These are facts."

He leans on the last syllable, forcing it to echo lightly throughout the emptiness.

"Who will win?" He scoffs as he tries to laugh sarcastically, but thinks better of it. "To be honest, I can't say. But this match is pretty much going to determine the War Games outcome. So I just want you to know that I won't be holding back. Because if there's anyone you don't want mad at you, it's The Sacrificial Altar."

"That..."

The interrupting voice from behind the camera catches David off-guard.

"...was the worst promo I have ever seen."

David looks at the guy behind the camera, who is none other than freelance agent Eli Silver.

Eli: "Just Godawful. I am literally wondering if I deserve to live after wasting so much of my life with that promo."

Eli shakes his head in deep, true disappointment as David looks back at the camera and does a Jim Halpert impression. From The Office. US version. I haven't watched it in ages but I assume he still does it.

In any case, Eli smacks the DSLR camera hard and send it flying to mat, tripod and all. He doesn't enjoy The Office as he's more of an Entourage guy, and he REALLY doesn't enjoy being behind a camera when he could be out doing his thing, being all business and whatnot. Things to see, people to do, all that.

Eli: "Never have I heard someone talk so much and say so little."

David shrugs, turning his attention to the entranceway.

David: "I told you, I don't like promos."

Eli: "I didn't know that meant you SUCK BADLY at them."

David: "Why would I be good at something I don't like?"

Eli: "Look, just- You're hopeless."

David shrugs again, trying to drive the point home.

David: "I'm not a stage magician, Silver. I'm not KISS, this isn't Shakespeare in the park. I'm a wrestler."

Eli: "I don't need to hear about you kissing magicians on stage! And I CERTAINLY don't need to hear about you shaking your spear in the park! What I need from you is CHARISMA! ATTITUDE! EXCITEMENT!"

David nods, taking the time to consider Eli's words carefully.

David: "So... don't be myself?"

Eli: "NOW you're catching on, Twitman!"

David: "I would walk away right now, but I must admit I'm curious as to where this is heading."

As he picks up the camera, Eli waves around with his other hand.

Eli: "You know how much it costs to rent out an arena?"

David: "You rented out this arena just for me?"

Eli: "NO YOU IDIOT! I know a guy, this is free! But I'm just saying, it WOULD cost a hell of a lot okay? You should take this opportunity and do your best!"

David looks at Eli, who is at work attempting to fix the tripod which now has a loose leg. Well-dressed as ever, the manager strikes David as out of place.

David: "... You know, I still don't understand exactly what you want from me."

Eli sighs. His attention is focused mostly on fixing the tripod, since he sucks at this sort of thing, much like David sucks at promos, which highlights the irony of this whole situation.

Eli: "I need people to know who you are. You do better, everyone wins."

David: "What are you tal-"

For half a second, Eli looks flustered but quickly regains his composure and anger. Before David can finish his sentence, Eli loudly interjects.

Eli: "Nevermind. You probably broke my camera anyway, you filthy beast."

David almost looks genuinely confused as Eli gathers the rest of his equipment. He starts heading out but turns to David once more.

Eli: "Say, if you were a 2-year-old girl, would you be scared of Space Mountain?"

David: "Well, based on my admittedly limited experience as a 2-year-old girl, I must say I'm really confused by your question."

Eli sighs.

Eli: "I'm just working on something, and- never mind. You're useless."

The agent exits the ring and heads out through the entrance.

It is quiet once again in the massive space. The seats are empty, there are no cameras; David Whitman is alone. But something about this feels energizing to him. Something about this arena...

David stares at the exact same spot Eli left through for a few minutes. Suddenly, as if willed by intent, DC enters.

As he makes his way to the ring he begins talking loudly so David can hear him.

DC: "Was that-"

David: "Yep. You just missed him."

DC: "Hm."

David: "I know."

David leans back into the turnbuckles as DC slowly looks over the arena and answers his teammate's unspoken question.

DC: "I had to... Get some things for a trip."

David: "Well, you're here now."

DC enters the ring, and walks up to Whitman, confrontation style.

David points at the mat underneath their feet and turns his hand in a circular motion.

David: "If I beat Runn, we're going to be in a ring at a Pay-Per-View together again."

DC smirks.

DC: "Just like old times."

David: "Well, not exactly."

DC leans into the ropes. There is a light hum in the arena, giving off a sense of constant activity. It is probably something electrical. David moves back to the turnbuckles, and leans in just as DC bounces lightly off the ropes. This last bit was to illustrate how well they know each other as wrestlers in a very subtle manner, but now I explained it anyway just to make sure you didn't miss it.

David looks at DC, who shoots back a mirroring stare.

David: "Go ahead."

DC: "I've known you for a long time. I know you don't play the gimmick games. You're real. Which is mostly why I wouldn't say I don't respect you."

David flashes a somewhat genuine smile.

David: "That's a very roundabout way of saying you admire m-"

Cutting straight through the banter, DC makes his point.

DC: "I need to know you've got my back. In the War Games match."

David stares right outside the ring, imagining a very tall ladder, a packed Dallas Cowboys stadium and an insane daredevil jumping off that very tall ladder and getting every fan in that stadium to their feet without hesitating for a moment about his own well-being.

David: "You sound confident I'm going to beat Runn."

DC: "Cut the sh-t, Whit. You're going to. What I don't know, is how things are going to go down after that. I don't care what it takes; we need to win this match. Whatever happened last week, it's in the past. This match... This match is everything."

Silence fills the arena. DC's words sink in, seemingly filling the same void they left behind. He isn't waiting for an answer, as he doesn't need one; his point has been made. A wordless agreement is created between the two wrestlers. They will meet again at Kingdom Come.

David: "So... What's the next step?"

DC: "You take care of Runn, then we can end Strikeforce once and for all."

David: "I meant immediate next step."

Without missing a beat, DC answers.

DC: "TSA Meeting."

David raises an eyebrow, unsure of whether or not to even ask...

David: "Are things going to get out of hand?"

DC scoffs loudly.

DC: "I'd be f--king surprised if they didn't."

In another time, another place, either or both men would have been ready to attack each other or as at ease as brothers; now, here, days before WZCW's biggest Pay-Per-View and a crucial point for The Sacrificial Altar, DC and David Whitman are simply... ready. Their thoughts and actions flow freely and certainly, without a hint of reluctance and undoubtedly prepared for what awaits them.

It is because of this state of mind that when DC's phone suddenly alerts him of a call, he lets out a small F-bomb instead of answering; he know who it is and what he has to do. He abruptly exits the ring and takes a few steps before turning back.

David: "Where are you going?"

DC stares at David with a look so intent, so powerful, so full of determination, it makes David unwittingly take a step back.

DC: .".. Disneyland."

Without uttering another word, DC turns around and leaves.

The silence once more fills the arena as David Whitman is alone yet again. Nodding his head, and to noone in particular, he speaks.

"... Now that guy knows how to cut a promo."

 

[GI Cake]

???:"That's it, I'm through! I'm done with this, and I'm done with you!"

We are taken to the sight of Ricky Runn on the phone arguing with a familiar voice on the other end of the line. It was with his now former agent, Rob. While Rob was mostly inaudible Ricky was heard loud and clear.

Ricky:"You screw up my entrance music, you screw up my luck, you screwed up the call between me and Strikeforce and now I have to face some Mime at the Wrestlezone weekend. I'm the former longest reigning Tag Team Champion. I made history, I have beaten legends and had put men like Showtime to their limit. I don't deserve this, I don't deserve to jerk curtains, there's only one part of me that deserves to be jerked around and that's my Lil' Ricky. You're fired! I'm done with this."

The camera is then zoomed out to a lobby in New York City. Everyone looks at Ricky with wide eyed looks. Ricky was wearing bright Ed Hardy clothes, the shirt had a dragon rocked out with a bedazzled dragon that roamed down to the matching jeans that extended the dragon with more bedazzled, and resting in front of his eyes were shutter shades. Ricky looked at the odd looks he got from everyone and said loudly.

Ricky:"What? Have none of you ever seen someone with SWAG before?"

We can only see one head shake disapprovingly before turning and walking out. Ricky then turns his attention back to the secretary who said to Ricky.

Secretary:"I'm sorry Mr.Runn but neither Kanye West, or Jay-Z or in the office right now. I can take a message, but please tell me, why are you so persistent to see them?"

Ricky then removes his sunglasses and leans forward onto the desk.

Ricky:"I'm interested in hiring them as my agent. I heard Jay-Z was a sports agent now, and I need a new agent. Who else could do a better job with a man of my abilities and my swag than the leader of Roc-Nation himself?"

The secretary closed her eyes and took in a sigh.

Secretary:"Um no offense, Mr.Runn--"

Ricky:"Nah baby, call me Ricky."

The lady squints before continuing.

Secretary:"Right, whatever. Ricky, I just don't think you have what Jay-Z is looking for when signing--"

Ricky once again interrupts the secretary with a glare.

Ricky:"Woah woah woah woah. What do you mean, I don't have what they're looking for?"

Secretary: "Well you're... well, lets just say you are not of the correct persuasion."

Ricky tilts his head in confusion. The underlining meaning of what the secretary meant was lost on the Daredevil who said loudly.

Ricky:"What on earth do you mean? I have everything Jay-Z is looking for. Swag? I got so much, it seeps from my pores. Fans? Pft, I'm a professional wrestler. My fans will riot for me. There's a reason I call them "Rickheads" after all, and look at this glorious set of hair I have. Just take a moment and stare in awe."

Ricky steps back from the desk and throws his head back, moving his head in slow motion to let his long mane of hair move elegantly in the self-imagined slow motion glory. After a few seconds, the secretary continued to look unimpressed.

Ricky:"What do you think? I can meet Jay-Z now?"

Secretary:"I'm calling Security."

Ricky:"Okay, but that didn't answer my question..."

Secretary:"You got 2 minutes before they get here."

Ricky then moves and grabs an "Obey" snap back off of someone else's head and places it on and says to the secretary stepping backward.

Ricky:Fine then, I bid you farewell. Tell Jay-Z to call me!"

Stepping outside of the Roc-Nation headquarters in New York City. Ricky began walking down the street, his hands firmly placed into his pockets. Then suddenly, the sounds of Rump Shaker began to play loudly from Ricky's pocket. It was his phone, and Mikey was on the other end, calling him. Ricky answers the phone with a strained smile. Trying his best to keep the tone in his voice from showing how upset he was from the Secretary shooing him away from Roc-Nation.

Mikey:"Hey Ricky, what's going on man. How's NYC?"

Ricky:"It's alright man, Roc Nation said they were gonna give me a call. I think they want my SWAGGA."

The last part was obviously a bold face lie. With a stressed voice, Mikey said.

Mikey: "Look man, I know you are in need of a new agent to manage your things. But you need to focus man. We need your very best for the War Games match."

Ricky nods his head and says back.

Ricky:"Look man, I am going to win that match, but I'm telling you, I'm still peeved, no. I am visually upset with you guys. You let Derek push me off the card. I put Mystique to the limit not once, but twice. Not his cronies, but the big fat Bear himself. I don't wanna say you guys need me more than I need you, but to just off me like that... that hurt man, you know what that did to my swag?"

Mikey lets out a sigh and says with a slight apologetic tone, but obviously still very serious at the task at hand.

Mikey:"I tell you what man, prove Derek wrong, and win that match at the weekend, and then at Kingdom Come, prove the whole world wrong as we unmask Mystique and show everyone he's a bear. How's that sound?"

Ricky actually managed to let a chuckle escape.

Ricky:"That is a plan right there. I'm going to win, and I'm going to Kingdom Come, then after that, I'm going to find the loneliest, drunkest, and hottest looking chick and I'm going to show her my Rick-stick"

The two hang up while Ricky continued walking through the streets he was stopped by a mime, who had formed a wall. Performing to the performer in hopes for some cash. Ricky looked at the silent man and jabbed a finger in

Ricky:"I am sick of you people. You people are the worst. You think you just walk around all silent, making walls and think its no big deal. You're wrong, the whole silent act is over wise guy. I wouldn't doubt it that you are related to Whitman. Whitman is just like you, some silent bozo who can't cut it with looking fresh and swagged out so he walks around all silent and does everything he can to make those who do look fresh bad."

A crowd begins to build around the loud and rather upset Ricky Runn. Little of course did Ricky pay in mind that the Mime was black, and the crowd looking on were also black.

Ricky:"You people like Whitman are the reason why WZCW is going to the wolves. you people come in dressed all boring and dull all black and shit it makes me sick. At the Wrestlezone weekend, I'm going to make an example out of you people you SWAG-Less people. How can you live life like that? Life without SWAG? Is that like living life without an arm, or being black in 1829? You people sneak attack and flank and gang up on decent SWAG folk like me and think it's all good? No sir, it is not good. When you mess with the Bull you get the SWAG, and you or David Whitman. You fools can't handle swag. Just look at the way you dress. With all that makeup you look like some sort of--"

???:Race war!!!"

Suddenly, the city of New York exploded in violence with fire, explosions, and people fighting one another. Ricky and the mime look at each other before looking out to the madness of the riots and outrage.

Ricky:"Oh Hamburgers"