Richard Blonoff
Make America Rassle Again
Deadline is Tuesday, September 15th, 11:59pM CST. Extensions available upon request.
AS 98: Abel Hunnicutt vs. Garth Black
- Thread starter Richard Blonoff
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Viola Moonlight
I'm Literally Just Here for WZCW
Deadline has been extended by 24 hours.
Garth Black enters a room. He sighs, looks to the camera and starts to speak.
What's the point? I won't win anyway. It's inevitable. Someone with a dark past joins up. Ooh they're a bit shady. Oh, they're connected to some other character from the past. Oh, they're somehow related and will instantly move right to the top from precisely the same nepotism that brought them in the first place. Oh, they're a bit dark. We haven't ever never seen that before. Double negative.
People will think it's a 'shoot', you just haven't really understood me. As per usual. But like I said, it doesn't matter I won't win. A guy can emigrate and spend the small time he has in that time zone to try and fly back to WZCW and put on a show for the crowd. I've come and I've gone but I've never left half way through telling a story. Half way through gaining revenge. We've got a guy writing fan fiction as the champion because everyone else leaves. Matt Tastic is the only wrestler to have been beaten in a proper scheduled match for the title since the start of 2014. The card is subject to change, but Christ, shouldn't we at least have one story that goes somewhere?
People walk out all the time, for no reason and the company suffers. And when the company suffers, I suffer. I have never walked out when the time wasn't right, and it's fine, because I'll fight the chickens and the Johnny Scumms of this world. Daddy Mack left on a high against a guy who never appeared again? What is that? But you know it doesn't matter because the guy will come back in another costume, another mask and will win because he's friends with the officials. Meanwhile I'll just stay in the background doing what I'm told.
How long is it going to take you to realise I don't want to be the fans' guy anymore? How long is it going to take you to realise that some people are unreliable?
How long is it going to take you to realise that our numbers are dwindling on the roster and in the audience because this is not a meritocracy?
How long will it go on?
If Mr. Banks or Becky Serra or whoever is listening, I'm begging you, imploring you to give me an opportunity. Give me a chance at the top, so I can walk away on the eve of it all, derail it for everyone and then come back in a blaze of glory a few months down the line as if absolutely nothing has happened. This is me promising you right now, that I will win the WZCW championship before the end of 2015 and then I will quit, on the spot and allow VACANT to reign over the WZCW once more. Because you don't deserve me, these fans don't deserve me, and you don't deserve posterity.
Then he switches the light off and leaves.
What's the point? I won't win anyway. It's inevitable. Someone with a dark past joins up. Ooh they're a bit shady. Oh, they're connected to some other character from the past. Oh, they're somehow related and will instantly move right to the top from precisely the same nepotism that brought them in the first place. Oh, they're a bit dark. We haven't ever never seen that before. Double negative.
People will think it's a 'shoot', you just haven't really understood me. As per usual. But like I said, it doesn't matter I won't win. A guy can emigrate and spend the small time he has in that time zone to try and fly back to WZCW and put on a show for the crowd. I've come and I've gone but I've never left half way through telling a story. Half way through gaining revenge. We've got a guy writing fan fiction as the champion because everyone else leaves. Matt Tastic is the only wrestler to have been beaten in a proper scheduled match for the title since the start of 2014. The card is subject to change, but Christ, shouldn't we at least have one story that goes somewhere?
People walk out all the time, for no reason and the company suffers. And when the company suffers, I suffer. I have never walked out when the time wasn't right, and it's fine, because I'll fight the chickens and the Johnny Scumms of this world. Daddy Mack left on a high against a guy who never appeared again? What is that? But you know it doesn't matter because the guy will come back in another costume, another mask and will win because he's friends with the officials. Meanwhile I'll just stay in the background doing what I'm told.
How long is it going to take you to realise I don't want to be the fans' guy anymore? How long is it going to take you to realise that some people are unreliable?
How long is it going to take you to realise that our numbers are dwindling on the roster and in the audience because this is not a meritocracy?
How long will it go on?
If Mr. Banks or Becky Serra or whoever is listening, I'm begging you, imploring you to give me an opportunity. Give me a chance at the top, so I can walk away on the eve of it all, derail it for everyone and then come back in a blaze of glory a few months down the line as if absolutely nothing has happened. This is me promising you right now, that I will win the WZCW championship before the end of 2015 and then I will quit, on the spot and allow VACANT to reign over the WZCW once more. Because you don't deserve me, these fans don't deserve me, and you don't deserve posterity.
Then he switches the light off and leaves.
FunKay the Inevitable
People Like Me, We Don't Play
Heavy breathing, a shaky camera and feet sprinting across the floor all welcome us. Just ahead is the back of a well dressed man. In his hand, he holds a microphone. As we begin to process this information, the roar of a crowd and the distant sound of a creeping, dubstep heavy theme are heard in the background. The well dressed man turns, revealing himself to be Leon Kensworth, WZCW interviewer extraordinaire. He beckons for the camera to continue to follow him.
Leon: Come on! Hes just round this bend!
Leon sprints even harder than before. Suddenly, he stops. So abrupt is this halt that the camera nearly crashes directly into his back. Both are halted and slowly they look up to see their reason for such a stop: a 610 behemoth known as Abel Hunnicutt. Sweat covers his massive frame, glistening in the backstage light and soaking his attire. He is resting on the frame of a door marked with his name. Leon and the cameraman have caught him mere moments before he enters his inner sanctum. He is not overly pleased by this. Ever the journalist though, Leon presses ahead with his assignment.
Leon: Abel Hunnicutt, youve only been in WZCW a few weeks and already youve made quite the impact. First there were the backstage assaults that heralded your debut, then you defeated Max Steele and the man who has just won the Worlds Heavyweight Championship, Theron Daggershield, and just now in your firstouting in the Lethal Lottery match, you were the penultimate man eliminated. An impressive few weeks for anyone, let alone a rookie, wouldnt you say?
Hunnicutt has looked deeply unhappy since Leon nearly crashed into him and the word rookie has provoked even further anger. Sneering, snorting and scowling with disgust, Abel is unleashing a look that, if it could kill, would result in Leon pushing up daisies. Then, from behind the dressing room door comes an outraged scream of anger and the unmistakable voice of a certain Elite former Worlds Heavyweight Champion, Steven Holmes.
Holmes: Take it down. Take it all down!
Abel turns the door-handle and proceeds to enter where the camera catches Holmes going ballistic, thrashing at a beautifully decorated table, platters in place complete with celebratory snacks and drinks. Beside it is a group of three women dressed as maids. Two young and one old, they all look tired, fatigued and anguished as Holmes screeches at them. As a bottle of what appears to be an expensive Champaign shatters, the senior maid scowls at Holmes, storming out, apparently resigning from whatever position she held. The youngsters let out small screams before they proceed to follow their elder out, brushing past Abel as they do so.
Holmes: Thats right, clear off the lot of you!
Holmes, blissfully unaware that his protégé and the camera crew have turned up, now turns his attention to a trolley beside the trashed table. Atop it is a painstakingly designed and executed cake. Complete with elaborate frosting, icing and a personalised message for Abel, it is tiers upon tiers of sugary, sweet goodness. In a second, the hard work that has gone into that cake it nullified as Holmes swipes at it with his cane, obliterating the intricate craftwork. At this juncture, Abel proceeds to enter. He passes by some bunting which spells out the word C-O-N-G-R-A-T-U-L-A-T-I-O-N-S. As Abels tall frame causes the decoration to move, Holmes notices it.
Holmes: Congratulations? CONGRATULATIONS?!? For what? Getting screwed yet again by this company once again!
He tears the bunting down, cane still in hand.
Leon: You getting all this?
The camera nods in response, but it is too late, Holmes has noticed the pair and has a look of pure malice and rage plastered across his mug. He takes big, overly dramatic steps towards Leon and the camera as if he were the big bad wolf himself. They take a step backward, but he still follows. Abel is in the background, completely un-phased by this, slowly removing his wrist-tape.
Holmes: VULTURES! Get out!
Leon: We were just leavi--
Holmes: Get bloody out!
He swipes at the camera with his cane, catching it and causing the technology to crash to the floor, the lens cracks and thus so does the picture. The cameraman, as stereotypical and generic looking as you can imagine, picks up and stares straight at the lens to assess the damage.
Cameraman: Come on man!
The door can be heard slamming shut.
Leon: Well that went well?
Cameraman: Dude, my camera!
Now we cut to the inside of the room, flowing straight from that moment to this one. Holmes is pressed up against the door, forehead first. He is breathing heavily, fist clenching his cane in one hand the other dangling, limp. Abel completes the unfurling of his tape and tosses it across the room lazily. Relaxing a little more, Hunnicutt slides down, slouching and kicks off his workman boots, wiping his nose with his index finger as he does. Holmes smacks the door with his limp hand and turns to his apprentice.
Holmes: Vultures are supposed to circle around dead creatures, carrion. Were far from that! Tonight is an outrage. The bloody liberty of it all! You had Zeus and Tastic dead to rights and somehow they fluked their way into you going over the top. And now WZCW will seek to churn out its usual vile propaganda. Theron Daggershield vs. Dr. Zeus a true battle of good versus evil, Matt Tastic wins the grand slam, David Cougar returns, Titus turns bad.
In the midst of this all, Holmes is pacing frantically, cane waved in over the top fashion. He stretches out, overacting every single word, punctuating it with his maniacal movement. This is typical Steven Holmes. Even Abel, who has only been under Holmes tutelage a short period of time, rolls his eyes at this, it becoming familiar.
Holmes: Theyll exploit and overhype these moments, and thats all they are, moments passing in the vastness of time and space, and try to bury the true talent and story which is your violent uprising, your greatness, my brilliance, our alliance, starting a rule and domineering reign this company has never dared to dream of. The fools. I have money, I have power, I have it all. I shall use all my energies, all my influence to campaign to petition for your inclusion in the main event. Youve pinned the worlds champion Daggershield saw the Worlds End at Ascension and thats good enough for a title shot. Then we will rise and strike and maim and tear and destro--
Hunnicutt has grabbed Holmes arm. Lost in his own diatribe, Abels approach from behind has caught the supposed master by surprise. With his vile agenda in full swing and the frothing at the mouth underway, it is not easy to stop a Holmes rant, but such is Abels physical presence that he is capable of doing so with this single action. The two men exchange an uncomfortable look before the apparent apprentice speaks.
Hunnicutt: We have time.
Holmes: What?
Hunnicutt: We have time. There aint no need to rush. Think about it. You an me aint goin nowhere. Youve got all the time in the world, what with Ms. Crimson runnin youre other projects, an I certainly aint in no hurry to leave. Im only just startin to enjoy myself. We gave a good accountin of ourselves out there, left a lot of folks with a lot of bruises, an awful lot of marks Showtime, Constantine, Kagura, that Galluci fella. They all felt the burn, the desire, the need to unleash hell. An thats just the folks I sent over the top.
As Holmes eyes narrow, taking in Abels words, trying to process what they mean for their future, there comes a knock. Holmes sharply turns to acknowledge it.
Holmes: Bugger off; were in a private meeting.
???: Oh I think youll want to hear what I have to say.
Angered again, Holmes snatches at the door-handle and rips the door open to reveal Mr. Banks.
Banks: May I?
He enters to little resistance. Banks extends his hand first to Holmes who hesitates but then does, tentatively shake it. There is tension clearly between these two very wealthy men. Then Banks turns to Abel and again extends his hand. Abel accepts the handshake but quickly breaks it, almost throwing Banks hand down.
Banks: That was an excellent performance out there from you Abel. And yours wasnt too bad either Steven. Its always a pleasure to see one of the newer recruits doing so well and I know youve got yourself a well oiled machine here Steven but it did take me by surprise to see our dear friend Abel do so well for so long. After all sneak attacks in the back, beating down older men and getting a cheap win over Theron thanks to, well you didnt exactly impress me, but out there you did some serious business and I enjoyed it.
Hunnicutt: Appreciated.
Banks: Good. And Im sure youll appreciate that Ive decided to tell you face-to-face that Im so impressed that Im sticking you in the ring with a top contender in Garth Black for Ascension 98. General Manager, Ms. Serra seemed very receptive to the idea and I think youll both provide good competition for one another.
Holmes: Good competition? You send my warrior, my destroyer, a man who looks as if he eats childrens souls for breakfast in the ring with a man who has been beaten and battered all evening, not once, but twice and you think hell provide good competition?
Mr. Banks locks eyes with Holmes. All is not well here, before Abe interjects.
Hunnicutt: I accept this decision, and I welcome it.
Holmes shoots a look at Abel.
Hunnicutt: Now I know Mr. Holmes is hotter than a flea bittin mongrel right about now, but Garth Blacks a man who prides himself on wordsmanship and the way he crafts those words. Hes smart, an intellect, a good fighter too. He dug deep out there, even after the beaten he took from Scumm. Impressive for sure. What Mr. Holmes really wants to express to you Mr. Banks is that Ill gladly take on Black, hell Ill take on anybody, but dont send a wounded warrior into battle and expect him to come back, ya hear?
Banks looks Abel up and down and chuckles slightly, backing out of the room.
Banks: I hear you loud and clear Abel, but well see come Ascension. Ill be watching.
Once more Banks turns his attention to Holmes and smirks.
Banks: Steven, a pleasure as always.
Before Holmes can retort, the WZCW owner slams the dressing-room door. Holmes begins to shake in anger and lets out a guttural sound. He is furious with everything right now. Yet again Abels paw comes down on Holmes shoulder.
Hunnicutt: Mr. Holmes, a seed has been sown in the minds of him, of them out there and all the others in the back. Were coming to not just take gold and glory, but to slay and tear and rip and maul all those who want to stand in our way. Anybody who stands in that way is gonna get ripped and torn. We just startin and time is on our side
Finally Holmes takes a deep breath. His eyes closed, he licks his lips. When he opens his eyes once more he nods at Abel and chuckles, wagging his finger, acknowledging his pupils wisdom. Soon Abel joins in with a light chuckle of his own. Their joint laughter closes our scene.
Leon: Come on! Hes just round this bend!
Leon sprints even harder than before. Suddenly, he stops. So abrupt is this halt that the camera nearly crashes directly into his back. Both are halted and slowly they look up to see their reason for such a stop: a 610 behemoth known as Abel Hunnicutt. Sweat covers his massive frame, glistening in the backstage light and soaking his attire. He is resting on the frame of a door marked with his name. Leon and the cameraman have caught him mere moments before he enters his inner sanctum. He is not overly pleased by this. Ever the journalist though, Leon presses ahead with his assignment.
Leon: Abel Hunnicutt, youve only been in WZCW a few weeks and already youve made quite the impact. First there were the backstage assaults that heralded your debut, then you defeated Max Steele and the man who has just won the Worlds Heavyweight Championship, Theron Daggershield, and just now in your firstouting in the Lethal Lottery match, you were the penultimate man eliminated. An impressive few weeks for anyone, let alone a rookie, wouldnt you say?
Hunnicutt has looked deeply unhappy since Leon nearly crashed into him and the word rookie has provoked even further anger. Sneering, snorting and scowling with disgust, Abel is unleashing a look that, if it could kill, would result in Leon pushing up daisies. Then, from behind the dressing room door comes an outraged scream of anger and the unmistakable voice of a certain Elite former Worlds Heavyweight Champion, Steven Holmes.
Holmes: Take it down. Take it all down!
Abel turns the door-handle and proceeds to enter where the camera catches Holmes going ballistic, thrashing at a beautifully decorated table, platters in place complete with celebratory snacks and drinks. Beside it is a group of three women dressed as maids. Two young and one old, they all look tired, fatigued and anguished as Holmes screeches at them. As a bottle of what appears to be an expensive Champaign shatters, the senior maid scowls at Holmes, storming out, apparently resigning from whatever position she held. The youngsters let out small screams before they proceed to follow their elder out, brushing past Abel as they do so.
Holmes: Thats right, clear off the lot of you!
Holmes, blissfully unaware that his protégé and the camera crew have turned up, now turns his attention to a trolley beside the trashed table. Atop it is a painstakingly designed and executed cake. Complete with elaborate frosting, icing and a personalised message for Abel, it is tiers upon tiers of sugary, sweet goodness. In a second, the hard work that has gone into that cake it nullified as Holmes swipes at it with his cane, obliterating the intricate craftwork. At this juncture, Abel proceeds to enter. He passes by some bunting which spells out the word C-O-N-G-R-A-T-U-L-A-T-I-O-N-S. As Abels tall frame causes the decoration to move, Holmes notices it.
Holmes: Congratulations? CONGRATULATIONS?!? For what? Getting screwed yet again by this company once again!
He tears the bunting down, cane still in hand.
Leon: You getting all this?
The camera nods in response, but it is too late, Holmes has noticed the pair and has a look of pure malice and rage plastered across his mug. He takes big, overly dramatic steps towards Leon and the camera as if he were the big bad wolf himself. They take a step backward, but he still follows. Abel is in the background, completely un-phased by this, slowly removing his wrist-tape.
Holmes: VULTURES! Get out!
Leon: We were just leavi--
Holmes: Get bloody out!
He swipes at the camera with his cane, catching it and causing the technology to crash to the floor, the lens cracks and thus so does the picture. The cameraman, as stereotypical and generic looking as you can imagine, picks up and stares straight at the lens to assess the damage.
Cameraman: Come on man!
The door can be heard slamming shut.
Leon: Well that went well?
Cameraman: Dude, my camera!
Now we cut to the inside of the room, flowing straight from that moment to this one. Holmes is pressed up against the door, forehead first. He is breathing heavily, fist clenching his cane in one hand the other dangling, limp. Abel completes the unfurling of his tape and tosses it across the room lazily. Relaxing a little more, Hunnicutt slides down, slouching and kicks off his workman boots, wiping his nose with his index finger as he does. Holmes smacks the door with his limp hand and turns to his apprentice.
Holmes: Vultures are supposed to circle around dead creatures, carrion. Were far from that! Tonight is an outrage. The bloody liberty of it all! You had Zeus and Tastic dead to rights and somehow they fluked their way into you going over the top. And now WZCW will seek to churn out its usual vile propaganda. Theron Daggershield vs. Dr. Zeus a true battle of good versus evil, Matt Tastic wins the grand slam, David Cougar returns, Titus turns bad.
In the midst of this all, Holmes is pacing frantically, cane waved in over the top fashion. He stretches out, overacting every single word, punctuating it with his maniacal movement. This is typical Steven Holmes. Even Abel, who has only been under Holmes tutelage a short period of time, rolls his eyes at this, it becoming familiar.
Holmes: Theyll exploit and overhype these moments, and thats all they are, moments passing in the vastness of time and space, and try to bury the true talent and story which is your violent uprising, your greatness, my brilliance, our alliance, starting a rule and domineering reign this company has never dared to dream of. The fools. I have money, I have power, I have it all. I shall use all my energies, all my influence to campaign to petition for your inclusion in the main event. Youve pinned the worlds champion Daggershield saw the Worlds End at Ascension and thats good enough for a title shot. Then we will rise and strike and maim and tear and destro--
Hunnicutt has grabbed Holmes arm. Lost in his own diatribe, Abels approach from behind has caught the supposed master by surprise. With his vile agenda in full swing and the frothing at the mouth underway, it is not easy to stop a Holmes rant, but such is Abels physical presence that he is capable of doing so with this single action. The two men exchange an uncomfortable look before the apparent apprentice speaks.
Hunnicutt: We have time.
Holmes: What?
Hunnicutt: We have time. There aint no need to rush. Think about it. You an me aint goin nowhere. Youve got all the time in the world, what with Ms. Crimson runnin youre other projects, an I certainly aint in no hurry to leave. Im only just startin to enjoy myself. We gave a good accountin of ourselves out there, left a lot of folks with a lot of bruises, an awful lot of marks Showtime, Constantine, Kagura, that Galluci fella. They all felt the burn, the desire, the need to unleash hell. An thats just the folks I sent over the top.
As Holmes eyes narrow, taking in Abels words, trying to process what they mean for their future, there comes a knock. Holmes sharply turns to acknowledge it.
Holmes: Bugger off; were in a private meeting.
???: Oh I think youll want to hear what I have to say.
Angered again, Holmes snatches at the door-handle and rips the door open to reveal Mr. Banks.
Banks: May I?
He enters to little resistance. Banks extends his hand first to Holmes who hesitates but then does, tentatively shake it. There is tension clearly between these two very wealthy men. Then Banks turns to Abel and again extends his hand. Abel accepts the handshake but quickly breaks it, almost throwing Banks hand down.
Banks: That was an excellent performance out there from you Abel. And yours wasnt too bad either Steven. Its always a pleasure to see one of the newer recruits doing so well and I know youve got yourself a well oiled machine here Steven but it did take me by surprise to see our dear friend Abel do so well for so long. After all sneak attacks in the back, beating down older men and getting a cheap win over Theron thanks to, well you didnt exactly impress me, but out there you did some serious business and I enjoyed it.
Hunnicutt: Appreciated.
Banks: Good. And Im sure youll appreciate that Ive decided to tell you face-to-face that Im so impressed that Im sticking you in the ring with a top contender in Garth Black for Ascension 98. General Manager, Ms. Serra seemed very receptive to the idea and I think youll both provide good competition for one another.
Holmes: Good competition? You send my warrior, my destroyer, a man who looks as if he eats childrens souls for breakfast in the ring with a man who has been beaten and battered all evening, not once, but twice and you think hell provide good competition?
Mr. Banks locks eyes with Holmes. All is not well here, before Abe interjects.
Hunnicutt: I accept this decision, and I welcome it.
Holmes shoots a look at Abel.
Hunnicutt: Now I know Mr. Holmes is hotter than a flea bittin mongrel right about now, but Garth Blacks a man who prides himself on wordsmanship and the way he crafts those words. Hes smart, an intellect, a good fighter too. He dug deep out there, even after the beaten he took from Scumm. Impressive for sure. What Mr. Holmes really wants to express to you Mr. Banks is that Ill gladly take on Black, hell Ill take on anybody, but dont send a wounded warrior into battle and expect him to come back, ya hear?
Banks looks Abel up and down and chuckles slightly, backing out of the room.
Banks: I hear you loud and clear Abel, but well see come Ascension. Ill be watching.
Once more Banks turns his attention to Holmes and smirks.
Banks: Steven, a pleasure as always.
Before Holmes can retort, the WZCW owner slams the dressing-room door. Holmes begins to shake in anger and lets out a guttural sound. He is furious with everything right now. Yet again Abels paw comes down on Holmes shoulder.
Hunnicutt: Mr. Holmes, a seed has been sown in the minds of him, of them out there and all the others in the back. Were coming to not just take gold and glory, but to slay and tear and rip and maul all those who want to stand in our way. Anybody who stands in that way is gonna get ripped and torn. We just startin and time is on our side
Finally Holmes takes a deep breath. His eyes closed, he licks his lips. When he opens his eyes once more he nods at Abel and chuckles, wagging his finger, acknowledging his pupils wisdom. Soon Abel joins in with a light chuckle of his own. Their joint laughter closes our scene.
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