Apocalypse: Battle Royal (Dark Match)

[Phoenix]

Chuck Myles and Vance Bateman have looked over the card and feel that despite how stacked Apocalypse is, they want the crowd fired up and have provided a special Battle Royal to the roster members not featured on the card. The winner of this is expected to receive something good but the two General Managers are keeping the surprise hidden for now.

This match is open to anyone on the roster who doesn't have a match at Apocalypse. Participation is not mandatory but there is a prize for the winner of the match.

Deadline is Tuesday 16th August

 

[GI Cake]

The Climb

The scene opens with a view of Mount Shasta, California, the beautiful mountain tops pierce the sky and in the back the sun begins to set. The orange hue shining over the mountain range provides an awe inspiring sight. In the distance you can see Ricky Runn and his agent, Robert Johnson, scaling the side of the mountain. Ricky was several feet in front of his manager. Ricky was wearing a climbing harness, rope was fastened between him and Robert. Normally, this would keep each other safe if they were to fall. But for Rob, it was meant to make sure he would keep up with his young superstar. Ricky was speeding through the mountain climb, taking leaps and risks in order to reach the top, his signature smile shined on his face before looking down to Rob and shouting.

“Hey Rob! Come on man! Do you really want to live forever!?”

Robs face was a combination of disgruntled and fear. He hated heights, and he hated climbing. But when Ricky proposed that the two should do some Rock climbing he was reluctant to say the least, he figured if he were to play along he could have Ricky do an interview at the top of the mountain. The least he could do for his agent considering he was risking his life to climb a giant rock. Rob gasps for air as he felt the rope tug him upward; forcing him to scale up the mountain that he dreaded so much.

Rob began breathing heavily he was doing his best to prevent himself from looking down. The last thing he wanted to do was to go into shock from the fact they were 14,000 feet above the ground didn’t help the agent suppress his fears. Rob directed his head upward to his client, the youngest Superstar in WZCW and shouted loudly.

“Would you mind telling me why you thought climbing was such a great idea!? And why on earth you needed to bring me to this hell hole?”

Ricky stopped climbing and waited for Rob to climb up. He latched his safety belt to a hook placed in the base of the mountain and stared out into the view. His eyes caught a glimmer of the orange sunray and said smiling.

“Just look at the view man, you can’t get this anywhere. Not in a nightclub in Chicago, not in the pants of a Switz chick in a 5 star hotel in Hawaii. Just the serenity of this view is…Is perfect!”

Ricky closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and then exclaimed.

“And this air! You can’t get this air in the city dude! Look Rob, we’re almost at the top, once we get there we are gonna grab a bite and then parachute our way down okay? Don’t give up on me Broseph.”

Ricky smiles and nods to his agent and pats his shoulder before he unhooked himself and continued climbing. Rob took a gander and saw that the peak was so close, that he couldn’t quit now. He swolled the lump in his throat and reached out and continued climbing. It didn’t take long until Ricky reached the top of the mountain. Ricky smiled down and began cheering on his friend. Once Rob got into arms reach the second city daredevil reached down and grabbed Rob’s arm, lifting him up to the top of the mountain.

Ricky smiled and shouted loudly as he jumped onto his feet. Rob collapsed on his back and began gasping for air as his eyes began observing the sky around them. Ricky then stood near the edge of the mountain removing the goggles in front of his eyes and shouted wildly.

“Woooooo hooo! And your winners! Riicccckkkkyyyyy Runnnn and his agent, Robert Johnson!”

Once Rob got his composure he removed his rucksack and began pulling out several items out of his bag, a packed lunch containing a couple of sandwiches, two juice boxes, and multiple bags of trail mix. Rob also pulled out his camera bag and opened it up. As soon as Ricky caught the sight of the trail mix he grinned and swiped a bag and began devoring the contents inside the bag. But a frown appered when he noticed the camera and whined.

“Awww man did you really need to bring that? You know I hate interviews.”

“You know you need to do one of these every week Ricky. It was in your WZCW contract.”

“Geez, why couldn’t I just impress the board with my wrestling ability and not by my ability to answer questions to a camera?”

Robert was stumped by the question and looked to the camera with wide eyes and shook his head violently then pulled up the camera and aimed it at Ricky. Rob then pulled out his notebook and pulled it out to the page where he had questions prepared.

Ricky sat down on the mountain top and examined the camera while he ate handfuls of trail mix. Ricky shrugged his shoulders as he munched on the trail mix.

“So Ricky, you have won your first match on Ascension. How does it feel to be a full time professional wrestler on WZCW?”

Ricky gulped down the rest of the trail mix and responded.

“Fells spectacular, every day in WZCW I am reaching new heights. Winning tag matches on Ascension is just the start.”

Robert was surprised by Ricky’s answer. He scratched a mark next to the first question and continued.

“Great, great. So at Apocalypse, you will be in dark match battle royal, your 3rd battle royal to date. And with a mystery prize at stake for winning, what do you think the prize will be and what do you think of your chances of winning?”

“Hello? I am the second city daredevil. No one in that ring can move as fast as me and if it wasn’t for Showtime I would be preparing for a championship match right now!”

Ricky rubbed his forehead, losing his composure from the thought of Showtime David Cougar throwing him over at the battle royal. As much as Ricky liked to think he gotten over the contract match it stayed fresh in Ricky’s mind. Ricky took a deep breath and looked back up to the camera as Rob was stunned from the show of emotion from Ricky.

“Ok um Rick…And what of the mystery prize being offered by Chuck Myles and Vance Bateman?”

Ricky took a deep breath and fixed his smile upon his face and responded.

“Oh, well watching WZCW whenever Vance and Chuck have something up their sleeve it is usually a gift and a curse.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well if I win this match, I could be granted a championship match. But it might be right after the Battle royal. So after I win I gotta keep myself calm and have enough energy to be ready for whatever they are gonna throw at me, whether it is the greatest gift or the setup to my downfall I’m will be ready bro.”

“I see, well Ricky as of right now you are the first contestant to have signed up for the battle royal. It’s good to be prepared but you have no idea who and how many people are facing that night. Do you consider that a disadvantage?”

“Well WZCW. The second city daredevil isn’t afraid of anything. It doesn’t matter if Ale’s large ugly fingers are trying to wrap around my skull. I don’t care if Showtime is watching from outside to try to screw me over again. It doesn’t matter if I am in the ring with a fighting robot with a 100% success rate in his matches. As for as disadvantages go, I didn’t join WZCW to sit and listen to reasons why I can’t make it as a star.”

Ricky looked out to the mountain range and silently took a breath of air before continuing.

“As the youngster of this federation everyone looks at me and sees a runt. I am always at a disadvantage, I always here this talk in the backstage from guys that are the size of Ale and Everest saying I am a ‘smallfry’ or a ‘youngster’ Without ever being in the ring and seeing what I can do. The athleticism I bring to the ring is unmatched, my endurance is unmatched and I have plenty of experience in battle royals to make up for my lack of overall experience.”

Sam paused the recording for just a second and looked over and asked curiously.

“Wow Rick, this is perhaps your greatest interview. Showtime must have really gotten to you.”

Ricky sighed and rolled his eyes as he went to his rucksack and pulled out his parachute and began strapping it onto his back and said softly.

“Can we talk about that later? That is something I’d rather talk about later. Can we finish this interview so I can base jump this mother of a mountain already?”

Robert nodded his head and grinned as he re focused his camera to a now standing Ricky who was staring out to the sunset.

“Well it is obvious that the 2nd city daredevil Ricky is very confident for the battle royal at~”

“No brochao. I am always confident, there is never a time where I would second guess myself. Because in the life of Ricky Runn, if you hesitate, if you stop and think, everything you work for will disappear right in front of you.”

And as soon as he finished his statement the young devil strapped a pair of goggles to his eyes and sprinted to the side of mountain and began his descent from the top of Mount Shasta. Sam then grabbed the camera and pointed it to himself and said boastfully.

“And with that, Ricky leaps and bounds to a bright and colorful future in not only WZCW, but in professional wrestling as a whole.”

Robert turned off the recording and went to his bag and placed away the camera. He began searching for his parachute but to no avail. He then began to search franticly until his bag was completely empitied and all of his stuff was laid across the ground. He looked around and shouted.

“How am I supposed to get off this rock!”

The scene zooms out on Robert Johnson with his arms at his waist. Looking about before pulling out his phone in hopes he can get a signal so he can call someone. While Ricky can be heard in the background, screaming cheerfully as he base jumped off the top of Mount. Shasta.​

 

[The Best]

The scene opens, and George and Ale are seen laying down on their left sides about 4 feet away from each other in the basement of Ale’s house. Ale is seen with his normal black hoodie on, but the hood is not on his head, and George is in a brown suit with a blue and black stripped tie.

George: Day by day.

Ale: Day by day.

Get better and better.

I get better and better.

Can’t be beat.

I can’t be beat.

Won’t be beat.

I won’t be beat.

George now stands up, as Ale stays seated.

Week by week.

Week by week.

Train harder and harder!

I train harder and harder.

George now walks up to Ale, and starts to yell in his face.

Until you are stopped!

Until I am stopped.

You won’t stop!

I won’t stop.

Ale now stands up, and George is now yelling so loud in his son’s face, George’s face is getting red as a tomato, and there are veins popping out from the top of his head to his neck.

Day by day!

Day by day.

Get better and better!

Get better and better.

Can’t be beat!

Can’t be beat.

Won’t be beat!

Won’t be beat.

George is now nose to nose with Ale, as he is yelling louder than he just was.

Week by week!

Week by week.

Train harder and harder!

Train harder and harder.

Until you are stopped!

Until I am stopped.

You won’t stop!

For the first time since joining WZCW, Ale yells out loud.

I won’t stop!

You won’t stop!

I won’t stop!

Ale then stares deep into his father's eyes, until he quickly turns around towards the camera, and puts his hood on.

I could care less about the “prize” that Vance and Chuck are giving out to the winner of this battle royal. All I care about is slowly and painfully beating the life, and squeezing out the brains of guys like that young; cocky un-talented Rick Runn. That disgusting; familiar freak, Black Dragon! That clueless idiot, Sam Masters. That…….

I think Masters’ name is now Chris K.O.

Who?

Ale looks back with a look that looks like George’s face just suddenly turned blue, as George just shrugs his shoulders.

Blade screwed me out of my last match, but I’m not going to worry about that, I’m not going to worry about anything. When I enter that ring, and face however many idiots that think they have the guts to step into the ring with me, and with all of the pathetic fans watching, I am going to throw everyone in the ring over the top rope. Before that though, I am going to one by one squeeze the life out of all of my opponents.

You won’t stop!

Ale turns around and yells.

I won’t stop!

George walks up to Ale, and stands right next to him, and puts an arm around his son’s waist.

7 foot 1 inch, 400 pounds of pure intimidation. There’s no one, and no thing that will be able to throw this man over the tope rope. It doesn’t matter if it’s Ricky Runn, Black Dragon, S.H.I.T, King Shaaba, Saboteur, Sean Cruz, or Chris K.O……..

Or Sam Masters.

I said him, Chris K.O.

Who?

Ale turns to his father, and puts that weird look on his face again.

Anyone out there, from a failed hit man in Saboteur to a “robot” in S.H.I.T.

Speaking of, I picked up some new toilet paper the other day Dad.

Ale turns around to go get the toilet paper.

Here it is.

Ale pulls out a WZCW trading card pack, and opens the pack up. Inside of the pack there are 7 cards. One of Titus, one of Everest, one of Austin Reynolds, one of Big Dave, one of Action Saxton, one of Black Dragon, and one of King Shaaba.

I’m going to go try this out; I don’t have to be at the arena for another 4 hours.

Ale walks out into the bathroom, as the camera turns back to George.

Won’t be beat!

Scene Fades To Black

 

[Miko]

*Stacey Madison is storming through a WCZW backstage corridor with a panting cameraman in tow, she bursts into the catering area urging the cameraman to keep up, Stacey walks with a purpose straight through the catering area and stops suddenly as she’s found what she was looking for. S.H.I.T is standing stock still next to a group of confused looking road agents, one of them is poking him in the head with a stick.

Stacey shoo’s the man away and gets her microphone ready while the cameraman sets up*

Stacey Madison - I am here backstage with WZCW’s newest acquisition, the “Mechanical Man Machine” S.H.I.T. Hello, are you here with us?

*No reply from the robot, Stacey starts to look annoyed as some of the crewmembers have got their nerve back and are shouting crudely at her from an appropriate distance.*

Crewmember – He needs a womans touch, know what I mean lady!

I doubt you do. S.H.I.T come online!!

*S.H.I.T’s head slowly comes up*

S.H.I.T is online!

Good, first, congratulations on getting a contract and your massive win last week. Now I take it you’ve heard about the open invitation battle royal that will be taking place at Apocalypse? I just wondered if you would be entering yourself for it?

I have been entered.

HEYYOOOO!!!!

*An incredibly fat crewmember stands up and starts gyrating in Stacey's direction*

Looks like your out of luck there Stacey, come and talk to us real men

*Stacey rolls her eyes*

Right! What do you think your chances of winning it are?

Chances depend on how many opponents are also entering, probability of S.H.I.T winning depends on many factors, all of which will be calculated before the match to the finest detail, giving S.H.I.T the highest possible chance of victory.

So your confident?

Logic and statistics. . .

*She groans*

Look, never mind all that, there must be something I can get out of you. . . DON’T YOU DARE!!! *this is directed at a crewmember who was about to make another comment* Okay, would you like to issue a warning to the other competitors of this match.

*S.H.I.T stares blankly for a while, then it looks at Stacey*

In a match such as this there is a high probability of being hurt, make sure to be ready for this kind of environment as things can go wrong, S.H.I.T advises that only trained competitors take part in this match and to take out some form of health insurance. S.H.I.T owners take no responsibility for damage caused to other competitors.

Right, right, please don’t try this at home and all that.

It isn’t recommended.

Besides, who are these "owners?"

Sorry, S.H.I.T is programmed not to answer questions pertaining to S.H.I.T’s owners.

*Stacey looks around, slightly annoyed at the “robot’s” lack of imagination, and the fact that the crewmembers have even less. Suddenly she grins*

You know, you need to win another match before you can enter the battle royal?

S.H.I.T was not made aware of this.

No, I’ve just been sent to tell you dingbat, you see, Chuck Myles isn’t really sure how you’d handle yourself in multi man situations

*This gets an ironic cheer from the crewmembers*

So he sent me to set you up in a falls count anywhere match right now, against those guys.

*She points at the crewmembers, who suddenly don’t seem quite so obnoxious anymore. S.H.I.T turns and looks at them*

Estimated combined weight of 2,700 lbs

Hey we're not that big

INITIATE MATCH MODE!

*Stacey grabs a metal spoon from the catering area and raps it sharply three times against a metal pillar. S.H.I.T starts to move towards the crewmembers who are backing away frantically. Stacey smiles at the camera while tremendous banging and crashing can be heard in the background*

That concludes our interview

MAKE IT STOP!!!

*Another crash*

MY GOD!! HE KNOWS NO MERCY!​

 

[Kermit]

"Hunger knows no friends but its feeder."

-Aristophanes​

The scene opens to a dimly lit hotel room. The only light in the room is a single lamp omitting a faint auburn light and an aura coming from a television screen. Chris K.O. is occupying a cushioned seat in a relaxed manner, with a nightstand to his side. He is placed in front of the television with a remote control in his left hand and a cigarette fixed between his index and middle finger in his right. The smoke dances into the air as Chris watches the television with an aloof sense of interest.


The search still continues for WZCW Wrestler, Hunter Kravinoff, as he remains missing for ten days now. Authorities are currently investigating the situation and the prime suspect is WZCW’s David Bail, also known to millions as “Big Dave.” David is currently scheduled to compete at WZCW’s upcoming PPV, Apocalypse, but could be held from competing at the event depending on further investigation. More news will follow de-


The volume goes mute following a handling of the remote by Chris. He lays the remote down on the arm of the chair as he pulls his cigarette to his mouth. He savors the taste of his sin before he pulls the cigarette away and places it on an ashtray located on top of the nightstand. He then shifts his hand to a large manila envelope lying next to the ashtray.


Chris picks up the envelope and begins to examine it before finally opening the sealed flap. With a shake, a VHS tape slides out of the opened envelope and into his hand. He tosses the envelope to the ground and looks at the tape with a curious look. It’s a pitch-black tape with a single piece of scotch tape located where the label should be. “Everest” is written in black marker on the tape.


Chris sighs and gets up from his seat. He heads toward the television and focuses his attention on a VHS player tucked underneath it. He places the VHS tape in the machine and then returns slowly to his throne. After fiddling with the remote, the tape begins to play, with volume, on the television.

Harrys: The following contest is a Pure Rules match scheduled for one fall, and is for the WZCW World Heavyweight Championship!


The crowd is silent during the challenger approaching moment but pop huge as Titus comes out as his music hits. He poses on the ramp with thumbs up clearly milking the crowd.


Harrys: Introducing the challenger....representing Keystone City Kansas... he weighs 215 lbs and is from Newcastle England! Titus!


The crowd pops further at this as Titus runs down the ramp giving hi fives to everyone round the ring. He stops as he gets to the Disco Spider and gives him a hug. Bellamy doesn't look to happy at this. Titus then climbs in the ring as he looks towards the Titantron with a look of 100% focus.


Everest makes his way out, the WZCW World Heavyweight Championship wrapped around his waist. He stares out at the crowd as they boo him mercilessly. He walks slowly down the ramp, staring Titus down. He slides into the ring and holds his WZCW World Heavyweight title up in the air to another round of boos. He hands the title to the ref before taking his place in the corner.


Harrys: And introducing the champion, from Los Angeles, California, he stands 6'0" and weighs 205 lbs, the WCZW World Heavyweight Champion, Everest!

Chris’ eyes widen as he watches two icons wage ware between each other for the coveted World Heavyweight Champion. He isolates himself with the television, with only his cigarette to accompany him. The camera focuses on his face, as an apparent shift takes place (signifying the passing of several hours). Chris now bears dark circles under his eyes and a worn down face as he flicks the television off with the remote. Chris stands up from his seat as smoke escapes from a burnt out cigarette lying dead in the ashtray.


He approaches the VHS player and ejects the tape. He drops it to the floor and the sound of plastic hitting plastic can be heard. Chris glances down for a moment and gazes upon dozens of video tapes, all of them baring scotch tape with “Everest” etched upon the tape. Chris soaks in the sight and turns away from the tapes. He crawls into his lonely bed in the hotel room. He lays face up with his head rested on a pillow and begins to calculate the things he has just watched.


I remember when I was boy, and I would receive smaller portions of food than my father did during meals. I would complain at the lack of “grown-up” sized portions, but in reality it was more than I could chew. Had my father gave into my prideful intentions and given me a larger portion at such a young age; I would have been overwhelmed. But I’m older now and equipped with a larger stomach for the things of this world.


Crumbs will no longer suffice for this hunger which burns in the pit of me. I can no longer feed on child-size portions. An unquenchable thirst can only be maintained by a constant drink. And what is that drink? The glory that comes in fulfilling my own personal desires. My bucket list is long, and my time is short.


Chris turns onto his side and stares at the blinds hanging on the window. Small slivers of the outside world can be seen in-between the cracks of the blinds. The wheels of Chris’ brain begin to turn.


Everest, I wonder what you are doing now. Are you sleeping? Are you partying? Are you lying in your bed with the same conviction as me? The conviction that tugs at my heart and beckons me to the ring in order to meet you for a disastrous encounter. But I bet with all of your accomplishments you sleep softer than most. You feel a comfort in your deeds and security in your future, but if I know anything, it’s that nothing is for certain.


This is where I hope to catch you off-guard and pull the carpet right out from under your firmly planted feet. What does a legend do when a spike strip shows up on the road? How will you deal with that which you do not know? I have piles of footage on my floor that lay out every detail of your career, but you can’t even garner a single photograph of me. How can you kill a virus for which there is no cure? This is why you will become sick. This is why you will die.


Chris turns away slowly from the window and returns to a face-up position. He tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes as he begins to drift off.


Everest, you are hot on my mind, but at Apocalypse an opportunity arises. Slumped together with the rejects of the upper-class, I meet with them for a makeshift banquet in which I hope to win over the host. My moves will need to be sharp, but my wit must be piercing. While they prepare for a battle, I must stock up for a war. And at Apocalypse I-


Chris yawns as he begins to distance himself from being awake.


And…. at Apocalypse… I’m ordering a large order…. In which the buffet will sport many options… and I will devour them all… I *static* we *static* I am hungry for more than you know.


Chris pulls the covers over him and turns onto his side with his eyes closed. Sleep has overwhelmed him.


*static*


Sleep my pet, sleep and dream of the things in which you most desire. Have I not been a faithful provider? Have I not been a faithful master? So now go, be a faithful servant. Use the carnage that I gave you, and break them down as they did you. I am sprinkled in everything you do, and unlike those who deny me, I will not spit you out of my mouth. You are serenading in my existence my pet, and I am very proud of you.


*static*


The camera goes black.

 

[NSL]

Jack Skinner: Why, thank you! I greatly appreciate this prize you have given me. I knew it was only a matter of time, until you came to your senses, and handed me a title shot. I knew all along the match was just a technicality.

Jack winks at the mirror, practicing his "thank you" speech, for when he wins the Battle Royal at Apocalypse. Leon is standing in the doorway, watching in secret.

A title shot! My god! I never knew!

As Jack clears his throat, and gargles some salt water, Leon makes his presence known, and Jack does a spit take all over the mirror.

Bloody hell! How long have you been standing there?!

Leon Kensworth: Long enough to hear you make a fool out of yourself. What makes you think you'll win? What makes you think the prize is a title shot? If it were, which title do you think it'd be for?

You're asking an awful lot of questions. Why are you so nosy? Can't you see I'm busy?

Nosy? You mean, "why am I doing my job"? So? What gives?

Look, Leon...We go way back. Way back, like two weeks. That's a long time for me to let someone call themselves a friend of mine. Especially someone of your lowly stature.

I don't need this. I'm out of here.

OK, Ok. I'm sorry. To make it up to you, I'll give you your interview. What was the first question? What makes me think I'll win?

Yeah. That's the one.

Well, why wouldn't I think I'd win? When a company needs a new face of the company, they go for the best-looking, with the largest fanbase. That's clearly me. Well, maybe Titus, but he cheats. He's a freaking superhero!

So, because you feel you look the best, and feel you have the most fans, that'd be enough? What happened to talent?

What about it? I've got more than anyone else around here. It's those idiots, actually landing those punches, and performing those slams. They can hurt someone out there! Black Iguana is...

Black Dragon.

What?

Nevermind.

Black Iguana is lucky I'm not suing him for last week!

What makes you think this Battle Royal prize is a title shot? Why would WZCW risk giving a dark match battle royal winner, a shot at one of their prestigious titles?

Hey, look. I'm not Chuck, or Vance, and I can't speak for them. But, I'm sure we'll find out what their reasons are, for leaving me off the main card.

In your eyes, it's just a clerical error then? The prize is a title shot, and they made some sort of mental "typo", by making it a dark match? Are you always this out of your mind?

You, Leon, are the one that is out of their mind. You just wait and see. I'll be here, to tell you "I told you so", and we'll see who's laughing then.

Say you do win, and say the prize is a title shot. what belt would it be for, do you think?

Oh, the heavyweight championship, for sure. I've covered a lot of Ty's career, and it'd be an honor for him to face me.

Let's not write you're death wish here, and think about the other titles. How about the Elite X? Eurasian?

Leon gets a conniving grin on his face, and Jack looks confused.

Spit it out, Leon.

What if it were for...say...the MAYHEM TITLE?

Jack turns pale as a ghost, and stumbles back, holding his gut.

I'm going to be sick. It can't be. It just can't. This is a big mistake. I need to go.

Jack leaves in a hurry, leaving all his belongings strewn around the locker room.

 

[JGlass]

Saboteur Promotes Apocalypse

It’s a beautiful sunny day at Huntington Beach in Southern California. The sun is shining bright, the waves are crashing into shore, and there are legions of surfers waiting to catch the perfect wave in the ocean while many beautiful women occupy the shore, catching sunrays and enjoying a relaxing day on the beach.

The camera focuses on a film crew that is noisily setting up near the ocean, and then the camera pans over to an open-air tent, and it advances towards the tent.

Saboteur is in the tent, sitting in a chair in front of a mirror as a makeup artist works on his face despite the fact he’s still wearing his full costume, including his mask. Alvin walks under the tent and up behind Saboteur.

Alvin: Saboteur, they’re ready for you on set.

Saboteur: Well tell them that they can wait! I’m not going anywhere until Suzie here makes me look like a porcelain doll! Who the hell are you anyway?

Alvin sighs and rolls his eyes.

Alvin: I’m Alvin, the intern at WZCW. You made me tie your shoes that one time, remember?

Saboteur: Oh yeah! The nerdy chipmunk! Tell me Alvin, do you think this shade of blush makes me look too young? I’m going for likeable babyface, not fresh out the womb newborn.

Alvin: You look terrific. Look, Mr. Saboteur, the director said we need to roll now or we’re going to lose the light.

Saboteur sighs and gets up.

Saboteur: Nobody respects the art of acting anymore. Very well, let’s get going!

Saboteur gets out of the makeup chair and reveals that he is wearing an early 1900’s striped man’s bathing suit.

Alvin: Uh, don’t you think you should be wearing something a little less… anachronistic?

Saboteur grabs Alvin by the collar and pulls him so that their faces are touching.

Saboteur: Don’t you DARE use any of those five-dollar words around me EVER again!

Saboteur releases Alvin, who fixes his glasses and tries to regain his composure. Saboteur then calmly says,

Saboteur: Besides, these are totally making a comeback! Now stop dillydallying and let’s get moving, Alvin!

Saboteur and Alvin leave the tent and walk towards the shoreline where the film crew is waiting with a Wave Runner.

Alvin: So, all I was told is that I had to make sure you were happy and on time for things this weekend, but I’m not exactly sure what’s going on.

Saboteur: Well, Alvin, with Apocalypse coming up right around the corner, and me not on the card, I’d figure I’d use my talents to help promote the pay per view by doing some publicity. So I’m shooting a commercial in front of all these people to get the word out about Apocalypse!

Alvin: That’s very generous of you to donate your time like that, Mr. Saboteur, but I have to ask… why aren’t you competing in the battle royal?

Saboteur: Because I already have a contract, hello? Do you even watch WZCW? I’m 2-0! Undefeated! I’m an unstoppable machine! It would be unfair to put an established WZCW all-star in the ring with a bunch of newbs.

Alvin: It’s not a contract battle royal, it’s for members of the WZCW roster. So far Ricky Runn, Jack Skinner, Chris KO, Ale, and S.H.I.T. are in the match.

Saboteur: Hey watch it! WZCW is a family show!

Alvin: S.H.I.T. as in Scale Humanoid Industrial Technology.

Saboteur gets visibly angry and clenches his fists and yells,

Saboteur: What’d I say about those five dollar words, Alvin?!?

Alvin defensively replies,

Alvin: That’s his name! He’s a robot programmed for wrestling!

Saboteur: Wait… that sounds familiar. I think maybe I saw an episode of Little House on the Prairie where Laura wrestles a robot.

Alvin: Uh… that was you… at All Stars.

Saboteur: That would make sense, I always identified with Lau… WAIT! That was me! And I won! I’ve already beat two of the guys in this match, I’m a clear favorite to win!

Alvin: So I can tell Mr. Myles and Mr. Bateman that you’ll wrestle?

Saboteur stops walking, puts his hands on his waist, puffs out his chest, and looks towards the sky. He says in his heroic voice,

Saboteur: This Sunday, at the pay per view event of the summer, Apocalypse, it will be Saboteur ending the hopes and dreams of all his enemies in the Battle Royal.

Alvin: Excellent! Say, what’s this commercial going to be about anyway? What’s the Wave Runner for? And why is there a giant cannon?

Saboteur: Apocalypse is WZCW’s biggest event of the Summer, and nothing says Summer like the beach? As for the Wave Runner… Apocalypse is all about the heart wrenching action and drama, which is why I’m going to do something almost as action packed and dramatic as a professional wrestling match… I’m going to jump a shark.

Alvin is in a shocked silence.

Saboteur: Clearly you’re just as impressed with the idea as Garrett was when I told it to him. He couldn’t say anything for a solid ten minutes! Then he rolled on the ground laughing, probably because this idea is so awesome that it melted his brain and he went crazy. I’m not exactly sure, I got tired of hearing him so I kicked him in the head and we haven’t talked since.

Alvin: I’m not sure this is really wise, Mr. Saboteur. How are you going to jump over a shark? Do you even know how to drive a Wave Runner?

Saboteur: How hard can it be? It’s probably just like riding a bike, and I’ve been doing that for two months now! Garrett thinks I might be ready to take the training wheels off soon!

Alvin: But how are you know that there are even going to be any sharks out there?

Saboteur: That’s what the cannon is for. All right Mr. De Mille, I’m ready for my action shot!

The director turns around. He’s a wiry, jittery fellow with thick-rimmed glasses and stubble all over his face.

Director: I told you, my name is Peter Greene. Stop calling me Mr. De Mille.

Saboteur: Yeah yeah, let’s get this show on the road, can we?

Director: Okay, so let’s go over this one last time. The lifeguards on the beach cleared out the water for us for half an hour, so we really only have one shot at this. We’re gonna fire this lovely contraption you built us, and then give the sharks a few minutes to gather. After that, you’re going to ride out into the ocean, drive the Wave Runner towards the sharks, and then when you get there you’re going to gun it, hit a wave, and with any luck you’ll go flying over the sharks. Even if you don’t hit the jump, you’ll still be able to drive the thing through shark-infested waters, and that’s good enough for us. Okay? Wait… where did he…

Saboteur mysteriously disappeared while the Director was talking to him.

Saboteur: What? I didn’t hear you! I’m just gonna go jump those sharks now! See ya!

Saboteur is on the Wave Runner and he pulls out from the shore and heads towards the open ocean.

Director: Oh holy… fire the meat cannon! And roll the cameras! This is gonna be a disaster, but at least we might be able to sell the footage to one of those disaster shows.

A few crewmembers fire a large cannon that launches an inordinate amount of raw cow meat into the ocean. Within seconds, shark fins are seen circling the meat. A large group of people have gathered along the shoreline to watch the stunt.

The camera then focuses back on Saboteur, who has made a circle and is now heading directly at the sharks.

The camera cuts back to shore where the Director and Alvin are watching Saboteur, half tantalized half horrified. The crowd of people surrounding them has grown to include just about everyone on the beach.

Director: I know that guy isn’t all right in the head, but even he must be terrified right now.

The camera goes back to Saboteur, who is speeding directly at the sharks.

Saboteur (enthusiastically singing): Row row row your boat, gently down the stream! Merrily merrily merrily merrily, life is but a dream. Now in a round!

Saboteur is now a mere 100 feet away from the sharks and closing in fast. He cranks the throttle and is now speeding at the sharks at a breakneck speed. He gets within 20 feet of them when he stands up on the Wave Runner and leaps in the air.

Director: OH MY… WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING?

Alvin: This is NOT worth college credit!

Saboteur glides over the sharks, that are now leaping out of the water and chomping at Saboteur, but just narrowly missing. Saboteur flips over and sticks his hands in his ears and his tongue out.

Saboteur: Nyah nyah!

Saboteur miraculously lands back on the Wave Runner, which is still going at full speed, and he takes off towards the shore. The camera goes back to the director whose jaw is dropped as far as it can go. Alvin is passed out on the beach. The entire crowd that has gathered around the shoreline is ecstatic.

Saboteur pulls back to shore and gets off the Wave Runner. He throws his arms in the air and yells loudly so all the beach goers can hear him.

Saboteur: If you liked that, you’ll love WZCW’s Apocalypse Pay Per View this Sunday! Contact your cable provider to order!

Crowd: Sab-o-teur! Sab-o-teur! Sab-o-teur!

Saboteur walks over to the director and Alvin, who has recovered but still looks quite woozy.

Saboteur: So how’d that look on camera?

Director: Like the best commercial anyone has ever seen ever.

Saboteur looks over at Alvin, who tries to say something, but instead vomits on the ground.

Saboteur: What’s wrong with him?

Director: I think he was just worried about you.

Saboteur: Awww, that’s almost adorable.

Saboteur throws Alvin’s arm over his shoulders and puts his arm around Alvin’s waist. He starts to carry Alvin back towards the tent and the camera dollies around to their backs, revealing that Saboteur’s butt is exposed from when a shark ripped part of his suit off.

Saboteur: Come on Alvin, let’s get you some apple juice.

The camera fades to black.
​

 

[Gelgarin]

Book of the Dragon​

~ Chapter Seven – Evidence of Things not Seen ~​

“Remember who you are.”

She says those words at the end of every encounter. Once a week, “Remember who you are Hano, remember who you are.” I think I understand what she means. To wear the mask, to be the Dragon, many things must be put aside. When you spend all day dealing with monsters, you begin to resemble a monster yourself. It is important that something remains. Some token remnant of my humanity to remind me that, when all of this is over, I have something to go back to. I must be the Dragon, but the Dragon cannot be all of me. That is what the girl is saying.

The unspoken truth is that our weekly encounter exists to keep me sane. Oh, in theory the girl delivers news from the travelling circus I elect not to follow (Vance – having clearly realised that I will appear on time regardless of whether my bookings are revealed to me – has severed contact) but in practice there are easier, safer ways of getting news. No, she is here every week to make sure that there is still a human face underneath this mask.

The mask stays on for much of our meeting. The longer I take it off for the harder it becomes to put it back on. I will let the boy out at the end to hear her message, but for the rest of the hour he will look out at her through my eyes. It is for the best.

“Coffee?”

“No thank you.”

…

We sit together in silence for a while. She and I have seldom said much to one another. Sometimes you meet someone for whom idle conversation is not necessary, simply being comfortable together is enough.
Of course we are neither truly comfortable, not truly together. We each bring certain rules to these meetings.
Rule One: (hers) I may not smoke. This is painful for me. An hour’s inactivity without the solace of nicotine to dull the pain stretches my soul to breaking point. The people I fight against, they do not know right from wrong. If you do know right from wrong then you can’t choose wrong, you just can’t do it and live, and to try comes with an almost unbearable pain.
Rule Two: (mine) I may not touch her. Not when I am behind the mask. The girl is pure as morning snow and does not need that kind of contamination on her. Part of being less than human is recognising that there are certain things you may not have, and the refusal to hold her hurts me more than a year of nicotine withdrawal. The boy may touch her, but he treats her like fragile china, handling her timidly for fear that she will break or fall from his grasp. He has known the girl for years, he loves her more than life itself, but he will never take her in his arms and hold her the way he desires. Some wounds cannot be healed, even with a mask.

“You’re not on the card.” She breaks the silence. The card is never secret knowledge, everybody knows it, but she will always tell me what I have in store. I think it’s because she cares.

“I guessed.”

“Apparently there’s a battle royal.”

“I don't think so.”

“Could be worth it.”

“Who’s in it?”

The usually suspects are who. We idly run down the names together, she seems to be trying to capture my interest. Skinner will be an entrant, which for me is an exemplary reason not to show up. He has been dealt with, and the sooner he crawls off to bother somebody else the better it will be for him. We have some new guys I’ve never heard of, not owning a television coming with a few notable drawbacks. Sam Masters will be there, except he is apparently not Sam Masters any more. Less than a month ago I stood in the ring and shook this man’s hand. Now I don’t know what he’s doing with himself. Worth keeping an eye on perhaps. All in all though, I am not tempted. Violence comes too naturally to me, and I would rather not indulge that preference any more than I have to.

“I think I’ll pass.”

“And do what? Sit around in the dark all night?” This stings. There is nobody else in my life that would fire such a barb at me. I think it’s because she cares, and I think it’s why I love her. She’s not wrong of course; I’m a creature of the night used to operating in darkness. My soul valued possession is a battered typewriter, the keys for which have long since worn away. I don’t need light to type; I don’t need light to live, so I live without light. That doesn’t necessarily mean that I want to be reminded of it. Once again I get the sense that she’s trying to capture my interest.

“You want me to fight these men?”

She sighs.

“Hano; I don’t want you fighting anyone. But it doesn’t look like I’m going to get what I want does it?”

“I'll give it up if you ask.”

“I know…” She trails off. It’s an old dance. She doesn’t like what I’m doing, but knows that it is something I have to do, and as such won’t ask me to stop. She doesn’t dare. For better or for worse she loves what I am underneath, and needs to be able to believe that I’ll be able to return to that one day. The need is so strong, so primal, that she dare not ever put it to the test. If she pulled away the veil and discovered that I truly was a monster then it would destroy her, so she lives one day at a time, simply believing in me. Sometimes I wish she would ask. I wish that we could run away together to a small farm in Nevada. I wish that the boy could cast me aside and live with her, happily ever after. But it can’t happen. Not yet. This boy has been broken by this world too many times. He can’t live in it any more. One of them has to change, and I don’t believe it will be the boy.

“So why do you want me in this match?”

“I just think it might help you. Be, you know, a bit of a boost. You can't do everything you want to do from the bottom of the card. Sooner or later you're going to have to play the game the way it's supposed to be played. Besides...”

“I know…” This time it is my turn to observe the things not said. The unspoken reason is that work will carry her that way as well, and she wants me close. She wishes I would see her more often, but I’m diving too deep into darkness, I won’t drag her down with me. That is not the whole reason though; she wants me close not just for her, but for me. She knows that she can keep me sane, can keep me from wandering off the path. She is my anchor to this world, and she is reluctant to let the chain out too far.

As for my career, once again she is not wrong. I am loath to play their game any more than necessary. I have built a life on causing pain before, and I will not do so again. Vengeance is necessary, but I will not crucify the innocent in the name of my quest. Then again… she is not wrong. I’m not on the card tomorrow, I’m not doing anything, and I’m not moving any closer towards my destination. The other day I passed words with Showtime, but if I am to get close to him and his kind then I must advance myself. It is unfortunate, but perhaps a necessary evil.

“I’ll think about it.”

The minute hand has almost completed its orbit of the clock face. Our time is almost up. Slowly I reach up and release the boy. He cradles me awkwardly but makes no more towards the girl. His head turns, offering her a fleeting, timid smile. She smiles back and suddenly, just for a second, all is right with the world. Then the moment passes.

“Is our time up?” She asks.

“Yes.” He looks down. He never knows what to say to her. He relies on her to guide him.

“Show me out.” It is not a request. Left to his own devices the boy will sit and stare at the world for hours, barely remembering to breath. She takes him gently by the hand and leads him towards to door. He fumbles awkwardly with the latch and, his free hand still encased in hers, swings the door open for her. Slowly she leans in and her lips brush tenderly against his cheek. She holds her face close to his, her breath warm against his face, breathing new life into him.

“Remember who you are Hano. Remember who you are.”

Slowly he nods. They pause for a moment, the pain of parting sharp against their chests, and then she leaves. Out of the door and out of his life for another week. He stands there, alone, gazing at the woodwork for minutes before remember himself. He brings me back up over his head and once again looks out at the world through my eyes.

Hurriedly I pat my pockets. Cigarettes, I need them now. I told the girl that I will think about the match tomorrow, and that is all I can do. Perhaps I will appear, perhaps not, it is too soon after her visit to tell.
I flick a lighter and bring a burning cylinder to my lips, inhaling desperately, like a drowning man gasping for air. The girl is gone, but I still feel her lips against my cheek, her breath against my face and her words echoing in my ears. Remember who you are. I promise you, I will never forget.

I am not Black Dragon. If I go to Apocalypse it will be as The Dragon. I will fight as The Dragon. I will deal vengeance as The Dragon. I will return as The Dragon. I will spend my days and nights as The Dragon. But I will not forget who I am. When you spend your days dealing with monsters you begin to resemble a monster yourself, but something must remain.

I remember who I am.