Apocalypse: King For A Day

[Richard Blonoff]

Deadline is Friday, December 20th, 11:59pm CST. Extensions available upon request​

Six men. One World Title shot.​

Once again, WZCW will bring out the deadly Elimination Chamber as the battleground for this year's King For A Day match. All the men know what's at stake here; a one-time opportunity to challenge the World Champion for his title at any time, in any place. And with two unknown participants, one of whom is a returning veteran, the other; a fan-voted entrant, this year's King For A Day match will be the most unpredictable one yet!

Blade, Beard, Triple X, and Ace Stevens will RP in this thread​

 

[Blade]

My eyes snap open, and I’m suddenly wide awake. What woke me up? I have no idea. The room is completely dark and I can hear the crickets of the night chirping in the distance. There’s nothing that should’ve disturbed me here in…

On second thought, where am I? This bed is too soft to be one of the many motels I’ve stayed in. And yet, it’s not soft enough to be my bed, or a bed in accommodation provided by the company. I’ve felt this type of bed before, a few times, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

I lick my dry, sore lips and get the faint taste of Styrofoam. I cautiously try to sit up, but even the slightest movement causes a searing pain in my head, as if someone is trying to drill through my skull. But I have to endure it to find out where I am and how I can get out of here.

I bite down on my lip so I don’t scream as I pull myself into a sitting position. I run my hand over my beside table; what feels like my phone wallet and keys are there. I scoop them up, then endure further pain as I swing my legs out of the bed and place them on the ground. It takes me a moment to find my balance, but as soon as I do, I begin to shuffle awkwardly away from my bed and towards the shape of the door that I can just make out in the darkness.

I open the door and it reveals a long hallway with rows of doors on either side. The smell of death and disinfectant hits me like a freight train and I know I’m in a hospital.

Slowly but surely, I make my way down the hall, moving as quietly as possible as to not alert any of the nurses that are currently tending to other patients. As I reach the end of the hallway, I see the sign: “Intensive Care”

Intensive Care? What the hell happened to me?

I get to an elevator and push the button for the ground floor. I don’t know where in the world I am, or where I’m going to go. All I know is that I have to leave.

I get off the elevator and walk into the gift shop. Luckily for me, the one employee there is practically asleep. Amongst the tacky Christmas jumpers they have for sale, I grab a long coat and a baseball and put them on before simply strolling away. As I exit the shop, it doesn’t trigger any alarm. There aren’t even any cameras. Hospital security, man.

I walk briskly towards the exit, feeling the icy winter breezes as I get closer. As I walk through the automatic door, I hear the announcement over the PA system: “Any doctors or security available, please report to the fifth floor, we have a patient missing from the IC unit…”

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​

“Blade!? What on Earth are you doing here?”

Once I knew that I was in London, I had gotten a taxi to the O2 arena, where Apocalypse was being held. I had wandered through the arena until I found someone who could help. Luckily, I stumbled upon Big Dave’s temporary office for the event.

“You’re supposed to be in hospital!” he protests as I walk through his door and collapse in the chair in front of his desk.

“What… Happened to me, Dave?” I utter, my head spinning.

Dave sighs, hesitant to let me know. I catch his eye, giving him the sternest look I can muster up, and it breaks him. “You were found unconscious in a motel room just outside London by a maid. She called an ambulance. You were severely dehydrated, and your concussion was still bad.”

“So what was going to happen? At Apocalypse?” I ask, shrugging off what Dave had told me.

“You’re in no condition to compete, especially in King for a Day. We're going to replace you.”

“Replace me with who? I earned my way into that match! I deserve to be in that match!” I snarl, growing more agitated by the second.

“That doesn’t matter. We have a responsibility to look after the health and wellbeing of our wrestlers. If you’re not in the condition to compete, we cannot let you compete,” he explains.

“What happened to you, man? You used to be one of the boys. Hell, the amount of times you competed while you were injured!”

“I competed injured without telling anyone, and I regret that now because it took years off my career. That’s why I’m sitting on this side of the desk.”

I lean forward, putting my hands on Dave’s desk. “Dave, you know what this means to me,” I plead with him, “You know what a big deal King for a Day is, and you know how long I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this. You know how badly I want this. Don’t take it away from me.”

He looks at me sadly. “I’m sorry, Blade. I can’t let you compete.”

Shock and anger washes over me. For a moment, I’m in danger of losing control as I remember everything that’s happened to me in the last two months; losing the Gold Rush tournament, the police hunting me down, Triple X attacking me time and time again, the concussion. And now this.

Just as I get to my feet to unleash all the pent up anger on Big Dave, which wouldn’t have been the best idea, I know, there’s a knock at his door and Mr. Banks strolls in, looking through some documents.

“Dave, I need you to…” He stops as he sees me standing before him in front of Big Dave’s desk. To Blade’s (and Dave’s) complete surprise, Banks breaks into a smile and shakes my hand. “Ah, Blade! Good to see you back on your feet.”

“Thank you, sir.” I mumble. Even though he stands for everything I hate, greed and capitalism, I’m still somewhat intimidated by him. He reminds me of my father.

“Well, I guess this means we don’t have to find a replacement for the King for a Day match!” he exclaims with a chuckle.

I don’t quite know what to say, I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. I know; me of all people, unsure whether his comment is sarcastic. Must be a side-effect of the concussion. Big Dave takes it completely seriously though. “Mr Banks, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve been told by his doctor that he’s in no condition to compete. He needs to rest.”

“That was three days ago. He looks fine to me now!”

Wait, I was out for three days?

“Sir, I really don’t think…”

“Let the kid compete!” Mr. Banks interrupts, “I know he’d rather die than not be in that King for a Day match, right?”

“Right.”

“Well there you go,” Mr Banks continues, placing the papers on Dave's desk, “now, if you could finish up these documents for me by Monday, I would appreciate it, Dave.”

“Uh, yeah. No problem.”

“Excellent!” Mr Banks booms, “That’ll be all for now! Good luck Blade, and merry Christmas.”

“Thank you, you too.”

After giving me a hearty slap on the bag, which admittedly rattles my head, though I try not to show it, Banks walks out of the room. I turn back towards Dave, who looks annoyed.

“That was…”

“Surreal?”

“Yeah.”

Dave nods as he begins to rifle through the documents left on his desk by Banks. “Well, I guess that concludes our business, Blade. You can let yourself out.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Thanks, I think…”

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WZCW.com Exclusive!

“Ladies and gentleman, my guest at this time is one of the participants in the King for a Day match at Apocalypse, Blade!"

I step into the shot with Becky in front of a huge Apocalypse logo, a grin on my face.

“So Blade, your rivalry with Triple X has gotten very personal these last few weeks, and with the rumours that you have a pretty severe concussion, how does that affect your chances going into King for a Day?”

“Triple X is an angry, bitter man, who feels he is owed something that he doesn’t deserve. And he blames that on me. I did hurt him and put him out of action, but that was an accident. When I put someone out on purpose, I will admit to it and own it, everybody knows that about me. But what happened with Triple X was a freak accident. But he doesn’t see it that way.”

I give a weary sigh and look into the camera.

“X, you’ve taken it upon yourself to ruin my life. But look at me, I’m still standing. You better hope that you get eliminated from the chamber before I get into the match. Because this time, when I hurt you, it’s going to be completely intentional, even if I have to go through four other men to do it. And I will walk out of the chamber with my revenge exacted and with that briefcase in my hands.”

“But, as you said, Blade, there are five other men in the match-up, surely it’s a risky strategy to focus solely on Triple X?”

“There’s the Beard and there’s Ace Stevens, two dangerous, dangerous men. There’s one wildcard in the match, that could be anyone. It could be Isabel Stone, who knows me very well, or Grizzly Bob, who knows me even better. And there’ll be a returning veteran to excite the crowd and worry the other competitors. Since I’ve come back to the WZCW, I’ve changed my ways, you know that Becky. Anyone who I’ve faced off with, I’ve made sure to have respect for them, maybe too much respect in Stone’s case. There will be five other competitors in that chamber with me. And on any other day, I would see them as threats. But at Apocalypse, I will see them as road blocks that I must get through so I can get my hands on Triple X and so that I can get my hands on that King for a Day briefcase.

I have waited too long, and I am not waiting any longer. Concussion or no concussion, police or no police, that contract is mine. I will cash it in and take that beautiful world title. And when I do, the title won’t be mine, it will belong to the people. It will belong to the people who are forced to watch the likes of Ricky Runn compete in the main event. I will melt that belt down to a vapour, for all to inhale so that the championship will be part of us all. So that those who stand behind me, those who fight alongside me in spirit and mind, can be the champion with me. The world title will belong to the people.”

I make myself keep up the intense stare into the camera. Make them believe it. Make them believe that I'm speaking the truth.

Then I walk away.

 

[Theo Mays]

The sun shines bright upon a glowing golden field. In the distance a family consisting of a mother, father, and son enjoy a picnic under a sturdy oak tree during this beautiful day.

Daddy, I want to climb the big oak.

The son’s voice was quiet and feint, only a few years old. The father turns his head to reveal that it is The Beard.

You’ll have to ask your mother kiddo. You know how she thinks you and daddy need to lay off the “risky” activities.

Beard makes airquotes around the word risky as he gets a slap in the arm from his wife, Emily.

Mommy please. I want to climb the big oak. Pretty please.

The son’s voice becomes desperate, his eyes widen as if to beg for her acceptance. Soon enough Beard follows. A quivering lower lip and puppy dog eyes as Emily lets out a sigh.

Fine. Just this once. Now you be-

YAY!

The two scream out in excitement simultaneously, interrupting Emily as Beard grabs his son and they run towards the big oak. Emily smirks at the sight of her two loves frolicking through the grass and conquering the big oak.

With a flash the scene changes. The big oak is dead as it rots away. The sky no longer sunny, but an ominous gray. Ash falls from the sky and nothing remains, but the Beard. No son, no Emily, no hope as the scene is sucked up into oblivion.

EMILY!!!!!!!!

The scene still black as Beard yells, but to no avail. The room is a blur as Beard tries to stand to his feet, but falls back to the decaying wood below. Beard examines the room. No windows, no light, a perfect square. Creaking can be heard from the outside as someone approaches the door. A jiggle of the handle as the door creeps open revealing Ezekiel Hewitt. Beard’s hands are chained together as Hewitt sits in a rocking chair towards the corner of the room.

It seems as if my monster is beginning to feel. I hear your cries, your whispers, and your tears. I see your dreams. You see her beautiful face, wondering what went wrong. And you see him, a splitting image of yourself sans the beard of course. And you look at him and hope he makes up for the mistakes you made. You hope he grows up not to be like you, but to be better than you. But your dreams soon become nightmares. All of it gone, burned to the ground. Nothing remains but the ashes below your feet.

Hewitt burns strands of paper as he tosses them into the air and watches them burn as they crumble to the ground. Beard attempts to lunge towards his handler, but like a junkyard dog his chains hold him back.

What is wrong my son?

Tears stroll from Beard’s face as a sadistic smile comes across the face of Hewitt.

Where’s my family? I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me, just let me go.

Finally you have broken down. An emotionless beast that no one could crack has finally snapped. My son, I am your family.

You’re not my father.

Only you could wish. I have given birth to this beast and unlike your actual father I haven’t abandoned you despite the continuing disappointments.

Beard is weak as he tries once again to break free, but the chains are too strong. Hewitt stands from his chair and kneels before his creation.

Tell me that you love me. Tell me son, tell your father that you love him. Say it. I love you daddy.

Rage and depression take over as Beard attempts one last ditch effort as he nails Hewitt with a headbutt to the nose. The force sends Ezekiel flying back, landing against the wall. Blood trickles out his nose and into his mustache. Hewitt licks his wound as he smirks at his beast. Beard lays on the ground as he whips his belt off and begins to tame his beast. With each howling scream from the beard the lashes become fiercer. The welts burst as blood covers Beard’s body. Hewitt catches his breath as he throws the belt across the room and kneels down in front of Beard, who remains motionless. Hewitt grabs him by the hair and holds up his head and whispers to him.

What is it that you wanted to tell me son?

I….I…love….you….dad.

Beard’s voice a mumble as Hewitt drops his head down on the decaying wood below. Hewitt runs his hands through his facial hair before sitting back down in his rocking chair. Out of his bag he pulls a thick, dusty book. He opens the book and blows the dust across the room as he begins to rock back and forth in his chair.

Son I want to tell you a story and I want you to soak in all that I tell you. At the end of the story you won’t be the same. No one will be to be honest. The whole world is about to change. I want to tell you a story about a king and the apocalypse.

A young lad with a glorious beard took the throne from his ailing father. The young lad, we’ll call him Jasper, was worried that he wouldn’t fulfill the standards his father had set. Jasper knew the task would be tough, but he had his doubters. Soon the kingdom would revolt turning Jasper into a monster. Jasper had been scared as his kingdom would fall beneath him. A daredevil, a rebel, and the prodigal son along with two mystery men would lead this revolt. One of the mystery men was an inside source, a veteran in the king’s committee. The five would work together to bring the new king down. Pillage would hit the kingdom as fires blaze across the land and as the dust settled the kingdom was burned.

Young Jasper couldn’t handle the pressure alone. He seeked his ailing father’s advice. His father, disappointed in Jasper’s action could provide no insight as he drifted into the afterlife. A young and confused Jasper would snap and knew he had to do it alone. Jasper would emerge and he would seek out the five men who dare bring him down. One by one he’d expose their weaknesses. The prodigal son and the daredevil were more concerned about their hatred for each other to focus on destroying Jasper’s kingdom. Those two would be the first to fall. The rebel more concerned about his bad boy image would be a tough fight, but no one is worse than a man on a mission to earn his father’s approval. Nothing will stop as young Jasper as he destroys the rebel.

Then the mystery. Two men, unnamed. The only solution? Destroy everyone. Young Jasper emerges from the fire a changed man. A man faced with an apocalypse, but is unfazed as he is the true king. His father watching from above finally sees his son is no longer a young lad, but a man. A man worthy to carry the burden of king.

The end.

Hewitt slams the book shut as he emerges from his chair. He kneels down and brushes back the hair of an unconscious Beard. Hewitt’s look shows no sympathy towards his monster as he leans in towards his ear and whispers.

Don’t let me down my son. Enter the chamber a boy and emerge as the monster you are. Destroy everyone, don’t stop until no life remains. When the ash settles you will be king.

Hewitt kisses Beard atop the forehead before disappearing from the room leaving Beard lying helpless on the floor.

 

[BK Styles]

Nineteen Years Ago…​

Morning. A weekday morning. I come down the stairs, the energetic six-year old that I am and run into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of slices of toast from the dining table.

‘Alex! Wash your hands first!’

My mom’s stern words cut through, and I obey her command. I dry them on a towel and take my seat at the table. My dad’s reading the morning paper while sipping on a hot coffee. I knock down a glass of orange juice far too quickly, and roar through my toast. My dad simply looks on, a smirk on his face.

‘Alex, you’re riding with me today. Dad’s gotta start work early.’

I pause from eating my food and look up at dad. ‘But you always take me!’

‘I know buddy.’ He says. He puts the paper down and takes a long sip from his coffee cup.

‘Why do you have to go earlier?’

‘Because I’m going to our company’s main office.’

‘But why??’

‘Because dad’s got a promotion. He runs his department now. It means I’ve gotta do a few extra hours here and there. More responsibility.’ His usually reserved expression breaks into a small smile. ‘But it means I have more of a say, and I suppose I’m more important, earn more money, and I get to look after you and your mom better.’

‘So…you’re kinda like the King?

He laughs. ‘Oh I dunno about that. There are still directors, the CEO. Far more important men than me in the company…but, I suppose. Of my department, I suppose you could call me the King.’

I smile, buying every word my dad tells me.

‘But the important thing about a King isn’t what he gets out of it. It’s about what he uses that title for. It’s about honesty, responsibility, and being helpful. You can’t take all of the benefit for yourself; although a little certainly doesn’t help. You must always remain humble.’

‘Why?’

‘Because even a King needs friends. And being humble and kind and honest gets you there. If you don’t be kind and nice, you’ll be in trouble. Because everyone wants to be King. And so they should be. Everyone should have that desire.’

‘Can I be King?’

‘One day, little mister!’

‘Can I be King where you work?’

‘Oh, I dunno. You don’t wanna work where I do. But wherever you end up working, absolutely! You won’t get there straight away Alex, but you should always strive for it. Because you won’t be the only one looking to become King. And on that day, you need to find a way to stand out amongst everyone. A way to be the unquestionable best. And if you can do that, and no one else can match up to you, you will be King.’

Dad smiles again, and I jump into his arms with an equally bigger grin on my face.

‘Alex! Time to go!’

3rd March, 2011…​

‘Come on, Red!’

'Dammit X, we're gonna miss the start!

My pal Red and I are moving through the packed crowd at Madison Square Garden, finding our seats just as the pyros begin to go off on the impressive stage. We’re about three or four rows from ringside, with a perfect view of the ring.

‘What dreams are made of, right?’

I smile like a school kid at an amusement park. Red and I rarely took time from westling in Japan to visit the States, but we’d made a point to come to as many WZCW shows as possible, with this being the first Kingdom Come we’d managed. Because as far as we were concerned, this was the closest we’d ever get to wrestling in a WZCW ring.

………​

Barbosa and Big Dave fight atop of the pod, with the former locking the latter in his signature submission. Within moments, Dave has turned the tide, hoisting Barbosa on his shoulders and crashing with him to the mat below with an almighty Stamp of Authority. Red and I leap out of our seats in disbelief, cheering on like two ordinary fans. Dave, somehow, rises back up, lifting his fallen foe with him and breaking his body further with another Stamp of Authority and, quite frankly, the pin that follows is academic.

Red and I stand up and applaud. Neither of us were rooting for Big Dave, but we’d witnessed a hell of a show from all six men in this match. And yet, only one walked out of the chamber with the world Title contract. At the time, there was no way of knowing that Barbosa would eventually claim the contract for himself, and later cash in, funnily enough on Big Dave. But at this moment, Big Dave was the WZCW’s King for a Day.

And I’d laid my eyes on the crown I wanted to claim.

The Day of Apocalype 2013…​

‘I don’t care!’ I yell down the other end of the phone. ‘I handed him to you on a platter, and even got involved myself, and you idiots let the slippery bastard get away.’

I listen to the predictable claims; of how the officers didn’t know the arena well enough, of how I didn’t give them enough notice. Well, I say listen, I stand there in silence as the detective on the other end of the phone talks, though exactly how much of it goes in is debatable.

‘None of what you have to say matters.’ I finally interject. ‘Come Apocalypse, I’ll have him exactly where I want him, and there’ll be nowhere for him to run. And maybe, just maybe when I’m done, I’ll leave enough of him for you to put in handcuffs.’

The detective begins to speak again, but I hang up before he can say anything of consequence. I stare out of the window, gazing over the cityscape of London. I see the Thames down below, and to the left n the other side of the river sits the houses of parliament. Then to the right on my side, the London Eye wheel. The beauty of the city isn’t totally lost on me, but many other things sit on my mind. Two in particular.

Blade. My plan to take him out and have him lie rotting in a prison cell hadn’t worked. The police had let him slip through their grasp despite my careful preparation. No matter. There would be many more opportunities for justice, and perhaps more chances for me to get my hands on him. I know for a fact there’ll be at least one.

Which bring me to the second thing. King for a Day. One of the most important matches in WZCW; a guaranteed World Championship shot at any time of your choosing. All you have to do is outlast five of the ‘best’, and by the best I mean those who the degenerate fans cheer most of all. Then, occasionally, someone like myself, who works hard and defies the negativity of the frauds in attendance, pushes their way through, rightfully taking a spot in one of the most dangerous matches ever devised. I would either leave a King, or on a stretcher…

I decide to stretch my legs and leave the hotel. It’s late morning and my media commitments have all been dealt with, so for now I have time to myself. I send Talia a text (she has family who lives in London and took the opportunity to visit them) and head out. I wander around for a little while, before finding myself at the Victoria Memorial; a fountain that sits outside of Buckingham Palace, the home of the British Royal Family. I sit down on the wall of the memorial and stare at the palace, taking in its simplistic majesty. My thoughts then turn to its purpose; the home of the royal family, including the Queen. Or, in the past, the King.

Truth be told, I hadn’t given as much thought to the King for a Day match as I should, and even when I had, it’d been about using the chamber as a weapon to torture and torment Blade more than I had originally intended to. Such was my obsession. But the more I think, the bigger a focus it becomes in my mind. A guaranteed title shot, any time, any place. I could set a date ahead, or surprise the champion whenever I desired.

‘Hey stranger.’

I turn and smile as I see Talia approaching. She sits down next to me and plats a kiss on my cheek.

‘All your media work done?’

‘All taken care of.’

‘Great!’ Her smile grows wider than the Thames. ‘At least you have a little time to relax before the show tonight.’

I remain staring ahead, still smiling.

‘Because after tonight, you won’t just be Triple X. You’ll be Mr. King for a Day; Triple X!’

I turn to her and plant a kiss, and put my arm around her shoulders.

‘I’ve been thinking a lot on the name. It just doesn’t sit right with me. King for a Day…it’s the wrong name for the winner, I think. Until that championship is around your waist, you are nothing than a pretender. The young lion looking to lead the pride and usurp the elder. You might not be the popular choice, but you know in your heart of hearts that, when it boils down to it, you’re the only choice. But that doesn’t mean you’re entitled to it. My dad…he’s never gotten much right, but one thing he did was about hard work. To become King, you have to work hard, and be honest. Because one day, another new pretender will come along and try to strip you of your crown. You need to have nothing left to hide when that time comes. Otherwise, it’ll drag you down.’

She grabs my free hand as we sit there, staring at the home of one of the most powerful families in the world. ‘I know you can do it. You’re not exactly fighting against the cream of the crop.’

‘Don’t discount them so easily. The Beard may be nothing more than an upstart, but he’s good.’

‘But fairly unproven. He had a good run in the Gold Rush tournament, but since then what has he accomplished?’

‘He’s not alone though. Ace Stevens was one of the most dominant Mayhem Champions ever. Though since then he hasn’t exactly lit the world on fire.’

‘Exactly! And then there’s someone who’ll get through on popularity and nothing else. It could be anyone. But whoever it is won’t have enough time to properly prepare.’

‘Then there’s this ‘returning veteran’…’

‘Any thoughts?’

‘I dunno. Everest? Big Dave? Maybe Steamboat Ricky? Even someone like Gordito? Hell, maybe even Big Will? Not that it matters. Whoever it is, they’ll find out they should have stayed gone. They had their chance; their spot’s been taken.’

‘And then there’s him…’

‘Blade…’ The very mention of his name filled me with hatred. Hatred, and an overwhelming desire for me to see him either in a cell, a hospital, or both.

I can feel Talia’s eyes burning into me. ‘Are you okay?’

I smile and look back to her. ‘Oh yeah. This is the big chance I’ve been waiting for. The police failing at Meltdown was a blessing in disguise. Now I get to be the one who finishes the job. I get to torture and torment him, with nowhere for him to run. I get to beat him within an inch of his life, and the only reason I will allow him to keep breathing is so he can see me standing, arms raised in victory, as an arena full of his fans reign down with boos on me.’

I take my arm from her shoulders and stand up. ‘It’s time.’

‘It’s a little early, isn’t it?’

‘I’ve got an interview to do before the show. Besides, I like to get to big events early.’ I turn to stare at Talia one more time. ‘Wish me luck.’

She smiles that wickedly seductive smile at me. ‘Good luck, my King.’

I smile back and reply as I turn to walk away. ‘I’m no King, Talia. Not yet.’

Later that Afternoon…​

I pay the driver as I get out of the cab and walk through the doors to the O2 Arena. As I enter the arena itself, I get a brief glimpse of the ring as it’s being assembled. I smile at the thought of stepping in before looking up, feeling my body tense up as I do. The chamber hangs there, like the sword of Damocles, ready to drop down and test whoever it lands near. That person, shod he be brave enough not to move, will have proven himself worthy to be the next King for a Day.

I walk through to backstage, where an interview area has been assembled for the website exclusive I’m taking part in. Becky Serra is standing there with her cameraman and a microphone. She looks up and catches my gaze, before looking back down sheepishly. I approach and put my bag down, with no acknowledgment from the interviewer.

‘Ready?’ she quietly says to the cameraman. He counts her in and the interview, I assume, begins.

‘I’m standing here with one of the King for a Day competitors this evening, Triple X. X, tonight is your chance to obtain the most lucrative opportunity in WZCW; the King for a Day contract. Your thoughts?’

I smile as I look forwards past the camera. I can tell she wants to get this over and done with. ‘My thoughts, Becky. You want my thoughts on the big match tonight? You don’t wanna ask me about me and your buddy Blade?

‘Please Xander, not now.’ she whispers quietly.

‘No, no we’re doing this now.’ I grab the microphone from her hand. ‘Follow me.’ The cameraman obliges as he follows me through the corridor and back into the main arena, where the stage, crowd barriers and various other things are being assembled.

‘See that there? That’s my ring. Where I made my triumphant return, taking Blade out. It’s the ring where I put down Steven Kurtesy and Saboteur, two of this companies biggest ‘disposable heroes’ one after another. It’s the ring where I crushed Blades throat, and it’s also the ring where I revealed to the world that Blade is nothing more than a criminal, and set the authorities after him like a good citizen. And you…’ I stare back into the camera with cold venom in my eyes ‘…you people, you don’t seem to get it. You boo me because I attack your heroes, but that’s the point. I want you to boo me, so boo me till your voices go sore! Your boos encourage me. They fill me with passion. They tell me I’m doing my job, and I won’t lie to you; they give me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. So carry on booing, please, I beg you. Boo me, while I stand in my ring, and destroy every one of your heroes on my path to greatness.’

I smile, and stare long and hard into the camera.

‘Which brings me to tonight. Nearly a year ago, I had a chance to become the number one contender for the WZCW Championship. Steven Holmes used nefarious methods to screw me of that opportunity, and use it to become champion himself. On that night, I made a promise. A promise that I would keep, no matter what. No matter where it would take me. A promise to never, ever let an opportunity like that pass me by again. No matter what the cost.’

As I say the last line, I look up at the chamber.

‘This chamber has claimed weeks, months and years of the careers of some of the best WZCW superstars there have ever been. And out of all of the winners, none have successfully cashed the opportunity in. It took Barbosa, who gained the shot from Big Dave, to become the first to win the gold, yet his reign was pathetic. He built no lasting legacy at all, and that reign is nothing more than a footnote. And who knows; after tonight, maybe this reign will be the same if Ricky Runn ends it and brings us into the era off…err…swagness. But whoever is the champion, I serve you notice now. Once I have the contract, there will be nowhere for you to run or hide. I will come when you least expect it. I will strike when you are most vulnerable. I will strike down on you to become the WZCW Champion, and there is nothing you can do, no scenario where this works out for you, plain and simple.’

I look down for a moment, recalling a memory from long ago.

‘Being a King is about more than luck and being owed something. It’s about working hard and proving to everyone you deserve it. Earning the contract for a shot doesn’t make you a King. That it only comes to the man who can become WZCW Champion. That person is the absolute best, and sits atop of the empire, looking down on those who are simply not as good. And I will sit there, I will gaze down at all of the fans and utter four simple words.’ I look back up. ‘I told you so.’

I look back over to Becky, who looks horrified at my words.

‘That was more like what you wanted, wasn’t it? But that’s the point, Becky. That’s the point I’m trying to make. Tonight I enter King for a Day, and I destroy five people on my way to get to that contract. One of those men is Blade. And whether you like it or not, he will have a front row seat to see me become the next WZCW Champion-in-waiting.’ Her face has now screwed up from shock to anger. ‘Oh, what? You don’t like my new found honesty. Simply put, that’s because like all of the fans around the world, you don’t like being told when you’re wrong. Because you are, Becky. You, and everyone who cheers your hero Blade on, pulling him along like a puppet, you’re all WRONG!’

I roar the last word out, before chuckling to myself and staring back into the camera. I focus my stare into it, imagining his face etched into the lens.

‘I know you’ll end up seeing this, so you listen to me Blade. Listen closely while you can. Listen while you still have the benefit of consciousness. I hate you. I hate you. I want to hurt you. I want to put you in hospital. I want to end your career. I want you to rot in a cell. And most of all, I want it so all of the hypocritical fans in this here world don’t see you for a very long time, so that they forget you. And one day far in the future, when one of these twenty-somethings is in their forties and talking to their mutant offspring about seeing WZCW for the first time, they’ll think to themselves ‘gee, what happened to that Blade guy?’ And they’ll remember. They’ll remember the reason why Blade never made it to the top.’

I smile with a devilish stare into the camera, on that will cut through to the many fans who’ll watch this clip around the world.

‘They’ll remember Triple X as the WZCW Champion.’

 

[Daniel]

Spoiler