Apocalypse: Connor Reese vs Ace Stevens (c) Mayhem Championship

[a0161613]

Connor Reese gets his first shot at WZCW Championship gold as he takes on Ace Stevens in a Mayhem Rules for the hardcore belt. Reese got a non title pinfall over the champion and will be desperate to capitalise on this chance on a massive stage and seek revenge for a recent belt shot to the skull.

Deadline is 11:59pm Central Time, Wednesday 3rd October 2012. Extensions are available, see request thread for details.

 

[Daniel]

Ace Stevens
Good Morning, Class​

The group is scattered about the floor of the theatre, all colours, all shapes and all sizes. They awkwardly make small-talk while awaiting the arrival of the man who will be their teacher for the next two hours.

“Look, I’m not saying I don’t want to do it. I’m just saying it’s stupid and I hate it. You can’t teach funny.”

Ace Stevens and his personal assistant, Lewis Middleton, are walking down an anonymous corridor. Beige floor. Beige walls. Beige ceiling.

“And what did the judge say when you told him that?”

“That I should have thought of that before I put that cat in the bin?”

“No. Before that.”

“That I have sociopathic tendencies?”

“After that.”

“That I have to do this and, hey, maybe it’ll be a nice little story?”

“Bingo.”

The conversation abates as the personal assistant stares at the back of Stevens with a look of astonishment and ever-so-slight amusement.

“Have... have you sewn tweed elbow patches onto your leather jacket?”

“Uh, yeah! It’s what teachers do.”

“Its leather patches on a tweed jacket, I think they only wear that in films and I’m pretty sure you’re not technically a teacher if it’s court-mandated.”

“If you’re expecting me to wear a tweed jacket, you ain’t thinking hard enough. I’ve got an image to uphold.”

The duo push the heavy entrance doors to make their entrance into the small theatre, ending their bickering for the time being. The natural talker in the comedian comes out as Stevens takes to the stage, and begins to address the assembled throng.

“Comedy. What is comedy? What is humour? What is funny? Over the next few weeks, we will answer these questions and more as we delve into the world of stand-up comedy.”

“He’s surprisingly eloquent” whispers one of the students to the old gentleman standing next to him.

“Shut the hell up, asshat! We’re talking comedy here!” Ace immediately shouts in the direction of the whispering pupils.

“Comedy is the freest art form in the history of our civilisation. And with that freedom, comes simplicity. And with that simplicity, comes complexity.”

The same man once again whispers, “that really doesn't make sense”.

Ace once again takes a break from his speech (and to a further extent, the pretentious character he is currently embodying) to deal with the whispering student.

“Comedy is serious business! So pipe down or you ain’t gonna learn nothing!”

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Oh, it looks like we’ve got a comedian in the audience, huh?”

A clearly – and needlessly – irritated Ace jumps down from the stage to confront the ‘heckler’. A young man, who could be no more than twenty-five years of age. From behind his thick-rimmed glasses, the man continues to desperately apologise with his eyes. But the Mayhem champion is having none of it, and embarks on a small tirade.

“You know what I should be doing right now? I should be training. Training so that this Sunday at Apocalypse, I retain my Mayhem title against Connor Reeese. But what am I actually doing? I’m teaching you douchebags somethin’ that can’t be taught. All because some guy in a black cape with a hammer told me to. Reese has beaten me once, and he keeps touching my belt. Do you know what it’s like to have some random guy constantly touching your belt? It’s not good.”

“OK, but...” says Stevens’ assistant, Lewis Middleton, attempting to interject.

“No, Lulu. No. My time is precious. I should be in the gym, and thinking up clever jokes involving the word “apocalypse”. But no. I’m teaching comedy. Teaching. Comedy. My fuckin’ achin’ ass.”

 

[Remix]

Connor Reese's locker room 1 hour before Apocalypse

Connor Reese looks at his phone in disgust. This was their plan for him? Disgusting! He was well and truly trapped with one unpalatable option. The phone's screen turns black and he slides it back into his bag. It is a bad evening to be Ace Stevens. His victory was always assured, but with that phone call... well, he has some extra frustration to work out of his system with a steel chair.

Two weeks earlier, after Connor's pre AF13 Press Conference

Finally, the roaches have left the circus. Once again, Connor was impressed by Sascha's selection of hacks. The German's words had generated a frenzy of activity. The reactions of most of them indicated confusion, but there were flashes of recognition amongst the mob, though a few words wouldn't be enough to confirm an identity. The flimsy disguise of The German's identity seemed to have been effective, and using it to generate more discussion about the promo had been a smart move. Inwardly, Connor rolls his eyes. Of course it had, Alexander didn't do anything unless he'd computed every other alternative to determine the optimal decision.

He jogs towards the ropes, sliding under them to the floor. "Kara!"

"Yes, Con?" his girlfriend replies.

"They're gone. Let's get out of here before I go mad." He looks at the decor; clearly burned canvas hangs from the ceiling. Images of clowns are painted on most of them, but the fire damage gives them an inhuman quality. He shudders. He'd always feared clowns as a child. As an adult, acrobats had joined them in the list of reasons he hated circuses.

She steps out from behind the curtain, briskly walking over to him. "Brilliant, Con!" She kisses him, clearly jubilant. "You had them eating out of the palm of your hand!"

He shrugs. "Idiots like them are easy to work. Tell them what they want to hear and say it with conviction and they'll buy it." He takes her hand and leads her to the exit. "Your timing with him was perfect. I'm almost surprised he cooperated with the plan."

"He didn't have a choice. He knows that I'm Alexander's stool pigeon. He owes too much to try defying him now."

He holds open the door for her as she steps out into the night. There's a full moon shining in the sky above. Closing the door behind him he walks toward his car. "I'm going to take you to one of my favourite places."

Connor Reese's locker room, 50 minutes before Apocalypse

Damn it! Why had they decided to make him do this? More importantly who had come up with the idea? It wasn't Alexander's style, and while making Connor suffer was The German's idea of doing his job, he wouldn't think of doing so by proxy. Alicia and Benjamin didn't have it in them to be so vindictive. That left one... Bitch!

Two weeks earlier, one hour after Connor and Kara left STA headquarters.

They've arrived at their destination, a rare area of lush greenery in this urban age. "We're here." He unbuckles his seatbelt, getting out of the car.

"A park? Original, Connor." She says, getting out too.

He laughs. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you couldn't stand my grand romantic gestures." He's spared the need to keep a straight face by opening the trunk of the car to retrieve a basket.

"Oh yeah, nothing says romance like driving out into the middle of nowhere in the dead of night! You really know how to impress a girl."

He laughs, before a thud as his head hits the lid cuts him off. "Ow" he removes the basket, and closes the trunk with the odd urge to clean up the trunk at some point in the future. It looks like salt's been spilled in there. "Keep up the jokes Kara and I might forget why I ever put up with you."

"Yeah right, even if you couldn't stand me I'd still catch you looking at my arse."

"You would. Only because I still wonder how you speak so fluently out of it." He offers his hand to her.

She hits him lightly. "Dick!" She takes his hand. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"You'll see." He starts walking on the cracked pavement towards their destination.

Connor's dressing room, 45 minutes before Apocalypse

He forces him to stop remembering that night. Now is not the time for those thoughts. He must focus on something else; she can't know what's going to come to pass. He puts on the jacket as she enters the room without knocking. Immediately he notices the silver necklace he gave her. That's a reminder he could have done without, though he hides his feelings at seeing the piece of jewellery.

"You ready Con?"

"To beat Ace? I've been ready since All or Nothing." He walks towards the door. "You ready too? This is your first time being my valet."

"Con, I was born in this business. The only thing I'd be more ready for than being a valet is beating Ace myself. Now come on, the pre-show's starting. We should get to a monitor."

He follows her, making no effort to hurry. Despite his efforts Connor once more thought of that night. Not of the date, this time but what he'd said beforehand. Tonight, he would work to ensure nobody will ever forget his match. Tonight, win or lose he will become a legend with a new goal. And unlike his mission to Mayhem glory, nobody had been warned.