Meltdown 67/Ascension 42/Aftershock 3

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Ty Burna

Getting Noticed By Management
No we won't be using the stereotypical gambling comparisons, but it's that time of year once again. Meltdown Madness, Ascension Anarchy, and Aftershock Insanity has arrived!

Everything will be drawn randomly. There are no guarantees and the match ups could be lopsided, or could very well be Pay Per View quality matches. Everything could be on the line for the stars of WZCW. Could the Chaos surrounding the WZCW title very well extend into this round? Test yourself against the fate the draw will set for you.

This is the "practice" round for Lethal Lottery. Everyone will post their RP in this thread except for Justin Cooper and Armando Paradyse.

Deadline is Tuesday, January 10th at 11:59 PM Central Time
 
The scene opens with nothing but pitch black dark, save for a few glimmers of brightness from the street lights, and we can hear the hustle and bustle of inner city life, car engines roaring past, the tapping of heeled shoes along the concrete pavements and the vibrant sound of conversation as people chatter amongst themselves. The sound soon goes quite though, as the camera follows the night sky and soon we hear new, different sounds.

Sounds of shouting, physical confrontation, the breaking of window glass, car alarms blare briefly, only to be followed by the harsh sounds of a handbrake turn as it speeds away into the night. Then a single gunshot rings out and it sucks all the sound out like a vacuum, if only for a brief moment, and then a mass of screaming and hysteria break out.

Sat in a car are Brad Bomb, his friends Matt and Jerome. They’re all sitting, chatting when they hear the gunshot. Like everything else around them they go silent as Brad turns a corner. Brad and Matt look at each other with shock, while Jerome sits there his face tells of acceptance and disappointment. He breaks the silence just as Brad pulls up outside a house.[/I]

“It’s da same thing every week. Gangs shout and scream at each other and someone ends up another statistic. It’s anarchy here. Dere’s no control. Thanks for da lift and day at da gym. I’ll see ya when you’re back.” Jerome and Brad give each other an informal handshake and then he gets out of the car and rushes towards his house. Brad and Matt watch him get in ok and then begin to drive off.

As they drive out of the neighbourhood, they drive past the scene of the shooting, where they see girls screaming and crying as some guys consoling them, while paramedics work to try and save the life of the man who lies motionless in the street. Brad looks despondently out of the window as he drives off.

---

The scene cuts to Brad at home in his apartment living room. Most of the apartment is covered by the darkness of night. The sole patch of light stems from a lamp on the coffee table and Brad’s laptop. He’s sat forward, his back arched, a pair of headphones in his ear, he’s intensely staring at the laptop screen. He has open a folder entitled WZCW videos which within it carries another subset of folders, he opens one of them entitled ‘Big Dave’ which has inside of it three clips.

He plays the first clip and it’s of Ascension 23: Anarchy.

Becoming the Bull starts playing and Bomb starts to make his way out when suddenly Big Dave runs out from the back with a chair in hand and slams it against the back of Bomb, sending him careening to the ground. Dave begins slamming the chair over and over into the head of Bomb before lifting him up and dropping him down hard with the Stamp of Authority. Bomb is unconscious and Dave kicks him off the entrance ramp as the crowd boos loudly.

Brad’s stare doesn’t even break for a split second as he watches each and every thunderous chair shot rain down upon him. He closes the clip shortly after it ends and then opens the next one. It’s a highlight show that recaps what happened after the main event at Meltdown 66. Brad intensely watches the blood pour from Dave’s head and then the cash-in from Barbosa. He smiles briefly as he watches the madman celebrate. He closes the video and then opens the final video clip.

Big Dave makes his way out from the back, a serious tone across his face. The crowd cheers loudly as Big Dave stares out at the crowd before nodding his head towards them. He begins walking down the ramp but suddenly the cheers turn to boos as Steven Holmes and John Constantine attack Big Dave from behind! Dave is sent sprawling down the ramp as Holmes and Constantine pounce on their prey. Constantine positions Dave, lifting him up and with assistance from Holmes, delivers a spiked piledriver, dropping Dave neck first onto the entrance ramp! Gordito and Titus are already out of the ring and go to fend off Constantine and Holmes but it's too late as the damage has been done. The crowd showers boos down around the Elite X Champion and his ally as they walk back up the ramp with smug looks on their faces as Dave remains motionless on the ramp.

Brad pauses it just before it ends and stares at the still of the motionless Dave lying on the ramp. His intense stare is only broken by the sound of his friend Matt coming out of the guest bedroom and walking towards the kitchen. The kitchen light comes on and Brad recoils from the sharp increase in light and only his cry notifies Matt of his presence. Matt comes out of the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand and looks over to his friend.

“Whoa. Why are you still up man?” He looks at Brad’s laptop screen and sees the paused video of Big Dave. “Ah. Horrible thing to happen to someone that is. Smith and Constantine are just as gutless as those bastard Apostles…”

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.” Brad shoots his friend a steely glare and he closes the video.

“Oh yeah… This time last year… Ascension Anarchy... I’m sorry man it slipped my mind.”

“It’s fine,” Brad remains sat down, glumly staring at his computer screen. He closes the video and the Big Dave folder and instead opens up his browser to check WZCW.com. He sees the homepage blaring out advertisements for Meltdown Madness and Ascension Anarchy and its tagline ‘anything can happen’. He frowns at the sight of the advert, “this is what I’m really worried about.” He clicks video link.

Ty gets up and is furious with the referee. He grabs him by the shirt and referee pleads with Ty. Suddenly Vance Bateman appears at the top of the entrance ramp, a smug smirk forming on his face. Ty suddenly releases the referee and looks over his shoulder towards Vance. He immediately exits the ring and storms up the ramp, getting directly in Vance's face…

Ty continues staring down Bateman, who continues smiling right in Ty's face. Ty slowly turns his head and his gaze burns a hole right through Baller before turning towards Vance once more and brushing past him to the back.

“He’s made a huge mistake. One can only wonder if this is the beginning of the end for Bateman.” Brad muses as Matt looks on with confusion. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not becoming a Ty Burna sympathiser or wannabe Apostle, I’m just recognising that Bateman’s actions are not positive by any stretch of the imagination.”

Brad stands up and begins walking to the kitchen as Matt’s still confused but hanging on Brad’s every word.

“Bateman has sunk to Ty’s level and has finally done what Ty’s wanted to do all along – he’s accepted the invitation to play Ty’s game and Ty is the master of this game. Ty’s plan has just moved a step closer to being complete and unless Bateman has one last trump card to stop Ty then I can’t see it being too long before he’s replaced. And I’ve not even got to the worst part of this entire thing yet.”

Brad gets himself an energy drink from the fridge and then goes back to sitting down on the sofa and replays the video.

“Look at this! Bateman has decided he has to fix matches in order to prevent Ty from winning! Does he not think of the repercussions? How this reflects on wrestlers like me, Everest and Matt Tastic? It’s overly negative! He doesn’t trust us. He doesn’t believe in us. It’s demoralising to me at least. I get why he did it – he didn’t want Ty to have the best chance of winning Lethal Lottery and main eventing Kingdom Come. That’s great and all but just because someone is completely and utterly evil and carries out underhanded, yellow belly attacks on other wrestlers with his pack of pathetic followers doesn’t mean that he can’t be stopped. I mean he lost to Saboteur not long ago and Big Dave triumphed over him at Unscripted. Bateman’s move was idiotic. He’s been played like a chump by Ty Burna and now we’ll have to wait and watch as he crumbles around Ty’s will. Ty is one of the best ever wrestlers in WZCW but he’s not invincible and never has been. Bateman should know that and he should have damned trust in his roster!”

Brad pauses the video and looks over at his friend.

“Now, in WZCW, there’s no control. There’s no discipline. There’s no authority. There’s nothing resembling that and that’s why at the moment, WZCW is infested with gangs, who’re teaming up with each other in order to try and monopolise the world we have to work in! The Apostles of Chaos, Holmes and Constantine, Blade and Hammond. These guys are running around causing chaos and have they faced any punishment? No! Of course they haven’t. In fact it’s the complete opposite – Holmes is the new Elite X Champion and Blade and Hammond had the chance to win the EurAsian title at All or Nothing. There is no structure. It’s 50% guys tripping over themselves and teaming up with others to beat the next guy senseless and the other 50% trying their hardest to not get their asses kicked by the other 50%. That’s the state of WZCW today… actually – when has it been any different?”

Brad opens the ‘Big Dave’ folder again and plays the first video clip again.

“Do you know where this is from?” Brad looks at his friend for the obvious answer, like a teacher to the smartest kid in the classroom.

“Anarchy last year! Where Big Dave attacked you with a chair.”

“Exactly! And what did he get in return for that sickening attack? He got put into a tag match with Ty Burna against Michael Winters and The Say Hays Kid. How, in the name of our good lord himself, is that a fair punishment for him?! The worst thing about it all though? It was actually a handicap match. Winters vs. Burna and Big Dave. It’s a massive injustice and leaves me questioning what do I do? Do I carry on to fight the good fight, only to get no reward or do I succumb to the temptations and perform the evil deeds that appear to lead to championship glory. Is that the only way to win in this god forsaken place?”

As Bomb is ranting, he accidentlly hits the back button on his laptop and the pop-out ad for Mayhem and Anarchy pops up on his screen again. He notices it and continues on his tirade.

“And this?!” he points to the ad, “This is nothing but a hypocrisy. Are we really supposed to be lead to believe that these shows are special in some way? Not knowing my opponent or match type? Anything can happen? Isn’t that just a standard week in WZCW, I mean not since Michael Winters have I had a general idea of who’ll be facing next week. The only ‘constant’ we’ve ever seemed to have is there’s a tournament to decide the number one contender, which results in a multi-man match at the PPV, except for Kingdom Come, and even that’s under threat! In the last three shows we’ve had three different World Heavyweight Champions, starting with Big Dave, then Barbosa and now Titus, who by the way I couldn’t be happier for but, all it does is re-affirm my point. Mayhem and Anarchy are not special by any stretch of the imagination and in fact that’s all we ever see in WZCW!”

Brad closes the laptop shut and stands up and goes into the kitchen to turn off the light and put his empty energy can into the bin. He walks back into the living room to see Matt standing there. Brad seems to have a bit of revelation as he stands there.

“I know I’m repeating myself but damn it, WZCW is just a constant struggle to see if any of us can come out of it in one piece and our head held high. So I’m not going to sit here and list off the pros and cons of the 35 other guys I could possibly find myself facing off against this week. I’m just going to go out there and fight to survive. Fight for the respect of my peers and the honour of my Gran and her family. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that we see Brad storm towards his room, closing the door behind as Matt turns around and switches off the light, extinguishing the scene of any light and doing the job of fading out to black.
 
It’s the night of the WZCW New Year party. For one night, even the most personal rivalries are forgotten as talent and staff alike drink, talk and laugh with each other. But Blade is sitting at the back exit of the party venue, a lit cigarette in one hand and a glass of vodka in the other. He alternates between sips and drags as he organises his thoughts. He’s disturbed by the door into the venue opening and Stacey Madison stumbling out, wine glass in hand, looking quite drunk. She mumbles a greeting to Blade before sitting down beside him.

Stacey: Wanna give me a smoke?

Blade sighs and takes out his pack of cigarettes. He hits the bottom of the pack and one cigarette pops up above the others. Stacey takes it out and grabs the Blade’s lighter from beside him.

Blade: I didn’t know you smoked.

Stacey: Everyone smokes when they drink. Some just need less drinks than others for it to happen.

Blade gives a distracted nod and flicks the ash of his cigarette as Stacey attempts to light up hers. The flame from the lighter misses the first two times, but gets it on the third try and she lets out a little squeal of triumph.

Stacey: So where’s your boyfriend?

Blade: Hammond? We’re not joined at the hip.

Stacey: I mean he’s not even at the party.

Blade: I told him he wasn’t coming. He’s back in the gym, training. As much as he deserves after All or Nothing.

There’s a silence as Blade downs the last of his vodka and places the glass down beside him. Stacey looks at her shoes, apparently distracted by one that has fallen off, for several seconds before speaking again.

Stacey: Why are you punishing him for losing a tag team match? You were part of that two. You’re the one who brought the chair into the match and that’s what ultimately cost you the match.

Blade doesn’t reply, knowing that it’s partly true. He takes a long drag and eventually Stacey stops waiting for a response. She drunkenly raises her hand and it wobbles slightly before she pokes Blade hard in the chest

Stacey: Hammond is your prote.... Prote... Protegé... Thing. Don’t keep him around as an excuse for when you lose matches. I may not have interviewed you recently, but I know what you’re up to. You see Hammond as someone who can bring something to the game that you don’t have, he has the strength and the passion. You have the technique and the calculating mind. Your strengths and flaws complement each other well, you two as a team can cover all the bases. I don’t know why you’re trying to mould him into Blade 2.0. Surely one Blade is enough?

Blade: If we complemented each other so well, why didn’t we win?

Stacey: Everyone knew going into that match that your strategy was for Hammond to get the title. It wasn’t a selfless act either; it was more for your sake. You needed validation for recruiting Hammond, you wanted to know that you hadn’t made a mistake in allying yourself with him after you two...

Stacey gets distracted by a bird landing on the wall beside them. She tries to entice it over with what remains of her cigarette, but the bird obviously ignores it. She shakes her head and mumbles something about the bird not being a smoker before continuing her previous train of thought.

Stacey: You two... Umm... Lost your first tag team match together. If anything, it was selfish of you. Despite your coaching, Hammond is still in a confused state, messed up and stuff, betraying his former allies and joining up with you. He’s only human, he must still have his own doubts about letting you mentor him. Going to Lethal Lottery... I mean, the other one, that last one... All or Nothing. I think. Yeah, the pressure was on Hammond. He was the one who was supposed to win the EurAsian title, you headed into that match with nothing to lose or gain. You were setting up Hammond for a fall, one way or another.

Blade is starting to get angry and it shows but Stacey is oblivious.

Blade: For once in my life, I’m not just thinking of myself. I want Hammond to succeed not for myself but for him. He needs me more than even he realises.

Stacey: You need him more than you realise.

Blade takes a deep breath and relaxes. He lets Stacey’s comment sink in as he takes the last drag of his cigarette and flicks it away.

Blade: I know I need him. Like you said, he covers the weaknesses in my game. I’ve made that clear to everyone from the start, it’s me and him that are going to take over this place. Together. But I know exactly what I need him for.

Stacey: To take over in the EurAsian title contendership while you move up to bigger things?

Blade: Maybe. But that’ll benefit him as much as he benefits me. As strong and passionate as he is, he’s not in the Mayhem division anymore. He needs someone to balance him out. First it was Toyota and now it’s me. Regardless of who needs who more, this is the best thing for the both of us.

Stacey takes out her phone and starts texting, to Blade’s annoyance. He takes out the bottle of vodka from under his trench coat and refills his glass. Stacey notices this and grabs the bottle herself. She takes a gulp straight from the bottle as Blade looks on amused. She wipes her mouth slowly and hands the bottle back to Blade. She lets out a little burp before talking again.

Stacey: So where does that other guy come into it? Y’know... Overlist.

Blade: Overlast.

Stacey: Right.

Blade: He reminds me of myself. He sees the flaws in this company and feels the frustration that nothing is being done about it. Him and Hammond will go together well and under my tutelage, success is a given.

Stacey: Except he basically told you to go to hell. Aren’t you just going to give up and find someone else?

Blade: Oh yeah, because I’m known for giving up. Like how I gave up after not winning the EurAsian title in my first couple of attempts and pursued it for a year before destroying Beckford to finally take it as my own. Giving up is my middle name.

Stacey: Shut up. You suck.

Stacey takes the bottle from Blade again and takes another swig as Blade grins and sips from his glass.

Stacey: So now what? Surely you’re sick of the EurAsian title by now. Both chasing and defending it.

Blade: I’ll never be sick of the EurAsian title in any way. It’s the title that made people take me seriously and give me the respect I deserve. If there comes a time in my career where I’m given a EurAsian title opportunity, I’ll no doubt embrace it, that title holds a special place in my heart.

Stacey: That’s a bit... Gay.

Blade ignores this comment and continues.

Blade: But yes, I think it is time to move on. I’m destined to be more than a EurAsian title contender, and destiny is beckoning me to move forward. I have my eyes on the Lethal Lottery and the main event spot at Kingdom Come.

Stacey: No offense, Blade, but you’re not good enough yet.

While Blade is initially taken aback by the bluntness of this revelation, he's not angered by this comment. In fact, he’s actually intrigued. He motions for Stacey to continue. Stacey tries to take a drag on the cigarette that has been out for several minutes and exhales nothing, looking thoughtful.

Stacey: You are good enough to be destined for greatness. You have the skill and, obviously, the confidence. But everyone knows how slowly you’ve progressed. Hell, even Baller has surpassed you. He’s had a World Title opportunity while you’ve been going through your EurAsian journey. Baller, the guy you destroyed in your first Pay Per View match. They guy who was a joke! He’s now above you in the pecking order in the eyes of everyone!

Blade: Everyone?

Stacey: Well, y’know... People... Fans... Whatever.

Blade shrugs as Stacey continues.

Stacey: But who have you beaten? Karnage past his prime? Titus when he wasn’t at his best? You’ve proven you can be a great EurAsian champion. But you haven’t proven you can hang with the big boys.

Blade smirks and Stacey looks confused by this.

Blade: I’m well aware of my lack of victories against the so called “big boys”. But what better way to prove I’m worthy than taking them all out in one night. Ty Burna, Showtime, Reynolds. How can anyone deny how good I am if I win the Lethal Lottery? It just takes one match to launch a career. That match for me is the Lethal Lottery.

Stacey lazily shakes her head.

Stacey: Trust you to pick the most difficult match possible to make your ascent to the top. Good luck with that.

Blade: I don’t need luck, I have--

Stacey: Destiny?

Blade: Right.

He smirks again and downs the rest of his drink before standing up. He’s slightly light headed, but is nowhere near as drunk Stacey, who is trying, and failing, to put her shoe back on.

Stacey: What about this week? You don't know your opponent or your match?

Blade: The truly great wouldn't let that affect them. They'd win regardless of the uncertainty, the unpredictability. I'm not thinking about the road to Kingdom Come, I'm thinking about the road to Lethal Lottery. It starts this week. I want Hammond to succeed to, but up to and including the Lethal Lottery, it's my time. My chance to show that I can be the best. That I am the best.

Stacey: Until you end up in a match with Ty Burna this week.

She grins stupidly and Blade shakes his head, also smiling slightly.

Blade: Y’know, you’re less of a bitch when you’re drunk. Barely. And you’re almost, dare I say it, insightful.

Stacey: Maybe I should do all my interviews drunk from now on.

Blade: Shouldn’t be a problem as long as you don’t throw up on any wrestlers.

Stacey gets her shoe on and looks very pleased with herself. Blade holds out a hand, which Stacey gratefully accepts, and pulls her to her feet before they walk back into the party.
 
The camera pans into a small room that is pitch black but for two candles burning either side of what appears to be an altar. Scott Hammond sits on a small pew with his head bowed. He doesn't appear to be in prayer, but is startled by Leon Kensworth who sits on the pew next to him

What do you want Leon?

Look, I wanted to come and talk with you. Ever since Blade took you to see your father, well, quite frankly everyone is a little uneasy with your behaviour.

My behaviour is what has bought me to this point.

How?

Pandering to everyone. Where did it get me Leon?

It got you adoration from live crowds around the world, it got you a tag team title.

Ha, laughable. How easy it is for you to sit there, an announcer, trying to make my wrestling career passable. Up to this moment Leon, I have done nothing worthy of being any kind of champion.

You should stop beating yourself up, everyone gets their chance eventually.

Eventually. That is a word I will no longer accept. There is no eventuality anymore. Blade and I will take what is ours. My career has been a complete failure until I was saved and shown the ways to get what I want.

Don't you see, you failed at All Or Nothing. This should be enough reason for you to realise this 'allegiance' is not going to work.

You think, that just because I lost at All Or Nothing, that I am going to give up on this crusade? Did Blade give up on me when I first rejected his theories? Quit is something I have been taught not to do. Black Dragon barely got out of All Or Nothing with the title. This is the truth. Blade and I need only a few tweaks to our gameplan for it to come off perfectly the next chance we get.

And what about Overlast? Blade is going for him like he went for you.

And? He has found another who shares our distaste for what is deemed acceptable in this company. He sees what a sesspit of corruption WZCW is and wants to remove it from being.

So, why are you here Scott? Are you here to repent?

I'm here to ask for forgiveness.

For what?

For what happens next.

Just then, a hand rests on Leon's shoulder. Blade lifts him out of his seat and stares at him intensly.

Now now Mr Kensworth, you haven't been trying to pollute the mind of my good friend here have you?

Is that alcohol on your breath?

Get out of here now before I blasfeem you ingrate.

Leon quickly makes it to the door and rushes out as Blade sits in his seat next to Hammond.

You didn't listen to anything he had to say right?

He is part of the problem. He thinks patience is the virtue to which we should all adhere to. But we know otherwise.

Hammond looks at Blade with an evil smile.

My apologies on being the one who got pinned at the PPV. I have been at the gym non stop for the past few days, perfecting what I feel I did wrong, and am working on masking my weaknesses.

Scott, you have no weakness. If you truly believe that, you won't fail. You and I are still in the feeling out process. This is all part of your education. You'll get there, mark my words.

Because if I don't you have failed?

No, you'll get there because you want it. I can see it in your lifeless eyes how much you want to take down the scum suckers of this company. It all starts this week.

Ah yes, the lottery before the lottery. I could face anyone.

One of the candles goes out and leaves the room darker than before. The two men sit in silence.

To be honest, there are so many that I wish to make an example of its quite alarming. Black Dragon. That man has humilated me for the last time, and if through the grace of God I manage to draw him, I will make him pay for his previous misdemeanours. He deserves punishment, and will get as much if he is unlucky enough to stand across the ring from me. Chris Beckford. A man so dillusional I think he might be high. He sympathises with Dragon's cause and cannot see the truth through the fog of corruption. Let us look upwards, the like's of Big Dave, Showtime, Austin Reynolds. These are all men that I have something to prove against. It doesn't really matter who I get drawn against, they will get no mercy. I am devoid of any feeling, and I will look to make sure my next victim is made an example of.

Yes, I'll drink to that. Fancy coming along for one? Its a celebration.

Or...I could draw you next week.

The two men stare each other down intently as the final candle gives way to the darkness. The scene fades out in pitch black
 
The crowded streets of Washington DC are filled with excessive cheering as thousands of people count down to the New Year. At the front of the populated mass, a stage is set. A massive banner reads “Welcoming 2012 to Washington DC” as it hangs above a smaller digital clock that is counting down to 2012. The excitement in the huddled masses has grown to a fever pitch as the New Year draws closer and just minutes of 2011 remain. At the far left of the grand stage, a smaller group of people dressed in suits are standing together, muttering amongst themselves. One man breaks away from the crowd, his suit is finer than most and a very regal chain hangs around his neck. The glasses that sit on the arch of his nose are covered in snow and as he speaks into a microphone in his hand, his breath becomes visible in the cold night air.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Washington DC, we are only mere minutes away from bringing 2011 to an end and welcoming the New Year to our doorstep”

A loud cheer goes around the crowd as his words are echoed by a very complex PA system that stretches as far as the eye can see. As word filters down the crowd, front to back, the visible excitement begins to take hold.

“With that in mind, I would now like to welcome a very special guest to help us count down to 2012. Everyone, from the front of the crowd all the way to the back, put your hands together for the Elite X Champion of WrestleZone Championship Wrestling. John Constantine!”

Our speaker begins to clap his hands together rather firmly as he welcomes his special guest. After a wave of applause from the crowd, The Power Trip appears from the left, brushing past the aforementioned smaller crowd of finely dressed organisers. A wide smile is etched upon his bruised features as he raises a hand to the crowd. Despite his bullish arrogance, it seems that the crowd of Washington DC are willing to forgive and forget as they welcome his warmly. Constantine looks around for a second, allowing himself to take in the vastness of what he is seeing and experiencing. The crowd is still rumbling with excitement as Constantine begins to speak.

“As many of you will notice, I am not the Elite X Champion of WrestleZone Championship Wrestling. Something that has, seemingly, escaped the knowledge of this gentleman to my right.”

Constantine raises an arm towards the speaker, who is beginning to blush at his high-profile faux-pas. His embarrassment is covered with a shared chuckle between the two. The speaker shrugs his shoulders with a wry innocence as Constantine turns back towards the crowd.

“At All Or Nothing, I was bested by Steven Holmes as here secured the Elite X Championship for himself. With that in mind, I am sure that some of you are expecting me to fly off of the handle and launch a scathing diatribe at the man who finally bested Samuel Smith just days ago.”

Constantine lowers his mic for a second, allowing the crowd to talk amongst themselves again. The smile that had slipped off of his features as he talked returns as beckons the crowd for an answer.

“But no, that is not the plan for tonight. Tonight, we welcome a new year to this world and, for many, it is a new start. For those of you who have had a poor 2011, the year of 2012 marks a new chapter in your life. As close the book on this year, anything is possible. You are all probably stuck in menial jobs, cursing your luck and ruing your stars. Not realising that whilst you hope that 2012 brings with it more fruitful adventures, it is already passing you by. You sit in your office blocks, scared to make impact on this world. You sip on your morning coffee, allowing the hands of fate to guide you through your lives. In 2012, let us stand together and make this year our own.”

After somewhat of a shaky start, Constantine is beginning to make some impact with the crowd. The booing that he has come to expect from the crowd is beginning to die away as his words fall upon ears that seem ready for change. Perhaps he has chosen his timing very well.

“I know that change can be terrifying. For the feeble-minded and the weak, change seems like a distant hope that is getting further and further away as the quagmire that is your life begins to slow you down. Your dreams and ambitions, slipping out of your fingertips as bolder men and women craft a legacy of their own. But fear not! You see I, John Constantine, have already taken the first steps into a brave new world.

I stand before you as a man who has ended the tenured reign of Sam Smith as Elite X Champion. I stand before you as a competitor who will be taking the world and WZCW into a new way of thinking. A new dynasty awaits us as a people and we have a decision to make. Will we stand by as 2012 passes us by and the likes of Sam Smith is allowed to carry gold around his waist? Or will we embrace 2012 and the new start that WZCW has been promised by myself and Steven Holmes?”


Again, Constantine pauses to allow the effect of hi words to take hold of the massive crowd. Behind the blunt words, an idea stands true. His words are resonating with some and a sweeping silence brushes over the crowd as they perhaps contemplate his message.

“You need not fear change. Change is what keeps up excited, it is what motivates us to allow ourselves to want more. Although Steven Holmes was the one who walked out of All Or Nothing with the Elite X Championship, I am still proud of my efforts. I facilitated change for WZCW and that change will blast through WZCW like a blistering ray of light. As we step out of the shadow that is 2011, a bright new dawn approaches for 2012. I may not have the gold I so crave strapped to my waist but change is an unstoppable force and knows no bounds. For those who embrace change, they will be rewarded in time.

And yes, change may be unpredictable but that doesn't mean we should shy away from the challenges and daunting tasks that await us in 2012. This coming week, I cannot prepare for anything so I must prepare for everything. My name, just like everyone else's, will be cast into a hat and the hands of fate will decide my future.”


Constantine's tone is darker now but is renewed with boyish hope as he continues his speech to the listening crowd.

“I, just like many of you, stand in the fog of my inability to predict what will happen. And although I cannot see the path before me, I'm not scared. Change will wait for no one and if you are not willing to change with the times and realise that nothing is set in stone, then you will be left behind. You make your own luck, ladies and gentlemen. I, along with Steven Holmes viciously attacked Big Dave at All Or Nothing and this is an example of the impact we should all be striving to make. This year will not pass me by for I am ready to change. I will facilitate change. And although I am as clueless as anyone as to what will happen in the coming weeks, I will welcome the challenges that it brings. I will rise to them and everyone will know that John Constantine, your hero, was responsible for the new era of WZCW that has been ushered in.”

The clock behind Constantine reaches 10 as the people who line the streets begin counting down.

“We will go now, forward into 2012. Knowing that we are the masters of our own destiny. Do not fear change... Embrace the unpredictability of it and you will be rewarded. This is our time! The year of John Constantine begins in...”

3...
2...
1...
 
Covering some extensions in one shot here:

S.H.I.T., Dr. Alhazred, Darren Bull, and Ty Burna have been granted 24 hour extensions.
 
Camden Town Train Station, London – 11:41am

A train arrives at a very busy platform. People attempt to push their way onto the train, while people also try to get out. As everyone gets on, the last man to get off the train is Johnny Scumm. Wearing worn black jeans and a white t-shirt covered over with a leather jacket, Scumm looks at home. He walks to the left and heads up two flights of stairs, leading him to the outside of the Station. Once at the exit, he looks around and smiles, strangely. A bench just opposite is spotted and Johnny walks over, sits down and puts his head in his hands.

“Home”.

“Fourteen years ago, at the age of thirteen I was sent away. I’ve not seen this place in a long time. Strange, it hasn’t changed one single bit. Such is life I guess. London…Camden Town to be more specific. I needed a break from WZCW and the American way of being. Take Jack Skinner…I beat him, he’s yet to win a match on AfterShock, yet that prick still smiles. American’s don’t understand that they’re losers when they need to. I’ll be back there soon and I’ll teach them all a lesson in losing. Enough of that though, I’m here to look back, to help me move forward. Everyone has demons, but mine are more like an army of Devils. See, this may have been “home” to me, but it wasn’t a nice home like everyone’s got. Home was definitely not my first choice of places to be, more like third or fourth even. People wouldn’t believe me when I told them that these streets were safer than being at home. A volatile father makes home a lot more maniacal, must’ve been where I picked it up from. Just that I’m putting it to better use.”


Scumm picks himself up walks down the street. After crossing a bridge, he makes a sharp right turn into the courtyard of a block of run-down flats. There’s a small alcove between the flats and a Caretaker’s office. He walks into this gap and leans up again a brick wall, sighing.

“I welcome you to Part One of the night from hell. Instigated by the devil himself, Oliver Fields was his name. Or Fatty Fields if you liked to take the piss out of him, which to be honest, was the best part of a school day. Certainly never got much of what you’d call an education. Anyway, back on track. Fatty Fields decided he’d confront me about being a bully. Strangely enough, considering my violent and very spiteful nature at the age of 13, I didn’t start this little taunt at Fields. I was merely a participant. Yet he insisted to confront me, right here on my way home one day. He took a swing and to this day, landed the softest punch I’ve ever felt. I grabbed him in a headlock, smashed him in a bit then…”

Johnny slaps the wall & smiles.

"His face, hit this exact spot. I didn’t doubt he had a broken nose and busted lips, I just knew I’d done the job and done it correctly. I walked away, leaving him there and made the short walk home from there on. Hoping Fields had learnt his lesson I left all matters behind me. That was until a few hours later.”

Scumm puts his hands in his pockets and leaves the block. He walks further down the street, until he approaches a Bungalow. He walks up the pathway, but turns around and begins to walk away from the house, slowly. Taking another thought over it, he turns back around and paces himself as he reaches the front door. He reaches into an inner pocket, pulling out a key. Opening the front door, Johnny gulps as he enters.

“Fourteen years, you still not found anyone to live here?”

The house is bare, there’s no wallpaper on any of the walls, no furniture around and no light.

“Here we go with Part Two. What we’ve entered now is hell itself. An apparent home for me for fourteen years of my life, nothing ever went the way it should’ve. That evening with Fields? Nothing new, until it hit boiling point…But it didn’t just boil, it overflowed. I came home that evening as I always would, with the same nonchalant greeting from mum and the ignorant grunts of a man who you’d be embarrassed to call your father. I walked in; had some food and the phone rang. Field’s mum was on the other end & my dad had picked up the phone. She told him every little detail she could and you could see his grasp of the phone getting tighter as each second passed. He slammed the receiver as he hung up; Field’s mum probably felt it in her own ear. The old man turned around and walked, slowly but forcefully towards me. He backed me into a corner, his voice roaring at me, shouting up about what I’d done. I stood there, looked at him and said nothing. His voice grew only louder and more frightful, but I didn’t react. He retracted his arm and let lash, smacking me across the face with an open palm. Not once, or even twice, but three times. My left side had been rocked and was left a shade of crimson, but I reacted to none of it.”

Scumm looks around and walks over to a bedroom. He sits on the end of the bed and looks down at the floor.

“I moved in here and just let parents be parents. I thought over what I’d done to Fields, but regretted nothing. What I didn’t know was that Part Three of my night was taking place, all beginning with the phone call that was being made while I sat on the edge of my bed, unaware of everything. An hour later, about 6:30, the door went. I thought it was weird for anyone to be knocking on our door, no-one ever did. It was a lady and I heard my name being mentioned. My mum opened the bedroom door and looked at me, a tear rolling down her cheek. She told me that she’d phoned the Social Services and they were coming to put me in a better place. Now, I may not have liked home, but they were my parents. I showed no emotion on the outside, but inside…I was broken. Packing all my things very untidily as quickly as possible, I headed out without a word, not even a goodbye. The door closed behind me and that was it. I was gone.”

With that, Scumm gets up and rushes out of the house, slamming the front door behind him. He runs until finding an alleyway, where he sits down putting his head to his knees.

“They took me up north, up towards Manchester. But I was never going to fit in or get along with anybody, so the second day became like “The Great Escape” for me and I made a run for it. At the age of 13, it was daring. I scrambled for food and became the person even I hated. I was getting into fights left, right and centre and nothing was stopping me, not even myself. 3 years later, I was still alive, not knowing how. I was taking shelter in an old abandoned house in Oldham by myself. That’s when the money fights came along. Just round the corner was a dodgy run promotion for Backstreet and Alleyway Brawls, where the means were to only incapacitate your opponent and you’d be paid, so long as you could still move. I wasn’t in great shape, I was thin and scrawny, but I went for it. I started running everyday, putting in as much athletic training onto my body as I could. By 17, I’d won a few fights and had money that would get me food daily, along with other essentials I needed. Eventually, the promoter put me up in a hostel he had for a few people he knew and kept me kitted out with some new gear when it was needed. By 18, I was winning regular fortnightly fights and earning the money. Then, at 25, I had taken beatings, given beatings and even put men in hospital. I knew it was time to make a name for myself. Cue moving to the USA and beginning wrestling training. Where have I ended up? WZCW. Look at me, I can take anyone on at anytime and give them a lesson in what I know.”

Scumm brings himself to form and stands up. He begins to walk back towards the train station, where he enters, walking down to the platform and waiting.

“I’m on my way to WZCW, where we’ve got a bit of a shake-up coming. Anything can happen, I could be put into any match without even knowing it. I won’t know who I’m fighting until they make their way through that entrance. But let me tell you, whoever it may be, I WILL beat them. Johnny Scumm will not only be making a name for himself this week, but he will be beating someone to within an inch of their life. Who knows who it might be? Maybe even Black Dragon, Titus, Steven Holmes might cross my path and have to put up with the fact they’re going to lose their title to me. Mark my words when I say that even though I don’t know what’s going to happen, I’m more prepared for this than anything I ever have been. You can only bring it to me and I’ll show you. Ascension, Meltdown or Aftershock, whichever I might be on…the show is mine, hopefully along with some gold.”

The train arrives at the platform and Scumm gets on as the doors open. He looks out of the doors as the train begins to depart, speeding away.
 
“Isn’t it funny, you work so hard for something and then you cannot help but think how you are going to lose it to somebody who has put no effort in whatsoever?”

We see Austin sat down on a plump and comfy-looking sofa in a dark grey suit. He looks up around at the painted walls of the room that he is in.

“I gotta wonder, who decided to call it a green room? And what deluded mind thought that this shade of vomit was a sensible choice?”

A man enters the room and disturbs Austin’s one man conversation. Judging by the colour of his face and his untucked shirt, he seems flustered.

“Mr Reynolds, we are ready for you now.”

“OK, thank you.”

Austin gets up and walks outside the gaudily decorated room

A man with the flushed face fumbles around Austin with a woman who emerges from behind them. They attach an assortment of wires around his waist and a small microphone that clips onto the lapel of his suit. Austin is then guided to a studio and stands behind the central camera. Far in front of him is Wembley Stadium, the stage of Kingdom Come II and Austin’s all-time favourite venue but the camera is focused on why he has been asked here. As Austin looks out at the stadium, the studio around him has begun to buzz around furiously.

Austin is ushered into position as a short and dumpy man with a receding hairline begins to speak in front of the camera.

“I’m James Rosenteal and this is the draw for the fourth round of the FA Cup. The remaining teams in this years’ competition will battle it out in thirty two remaining fixture to lift the most prestigious cup in all football in the FA Cup Final here at Wembley in May.”

“To draw these teams, I’m joined by two highly successful British exports from the world of sports entertainment, from WZCW this is newly crowned World Champion Titus Avison and one half of the new Tag Team Champion Austin Reynolds.”


A few minutes later, the pleasantries of the draw are over. Austin has gone outside to the stadium. He is standing at the side of the pitch and considers the history of the mighty arena. Even the new Wembley had seen massive concerts, huge football matches as well as KCII. He approaches the touch line of the famous turf.

“The time of year that everything goes out of the window. We all become bobbing apples, we get tossed in a bowl and get plucked out by whoever are deemed relevant by the powers-that-be.”

Austin smiles at his own analogy.

“You could anticipate many complaints from certain people who don’t get the match that they want. But I’m not going to moan. I worked damn hard to get where I am today and getting this was the most rewarding chase I could ask for.”

“I’m one half of the best tag team in this company. And I did it after three months of getting beaten down and cheated out by some of the most devious guys in the company. But they can’t take this away from me.”


Austin clutches his Tag Team Championship belt with both hands as if it was one of the precious trophies that have been handed out in this stadium.

“So these shows can throw up anything but you know I can’t wait. Just like the FA Cup, the giants can go to the minnows and the possibility of giant killings is there every year. We can see two giants face off in a massive heavyweight collision. The results that no one expect or could possibly predict. And just like the FA Cup, the roulette kicks off the year in WZCW and it’s the most exciting way possible.”

He teases putting a foot onto the hallowed turf but pulls it away.

“All or Nothing ended the year pretty well for me. As a whole, 2011 wasn’t great. I got giant-killed by S.H.I.T. , that was a bad night. Not to mention too many losses under no pressure, matches I should have won. But winning these tag titles, becoming a champion again exactly a year after I lost the Elite X title means the world to me. So I am very excited about what the roulette can throw up for me and Runn Reynolds Runn.”

He rests the title across his shoulder. He pauses for a second, just to gaze at it.

“I don’t know if I will tag with Ricky this round – that’s the great thing. I’m in the same boat as Titus, as Johnny Scumm and everyone else. It’s an awesome time to be a part of the roster!”

“I think I’m too excited but this is nothing compared to Ricky at the moment. That kid deserves everything he gets and then some. Maybe people will sit up and take notice when I talk about how good this kid can be.”


Austin hesitates again and looks around at the 90,000 red seats. The arena has been lit with subtlety and it sparkles in silence.

“The magic of this place get me every time. It’s just superb. Imagine walking out here in front of 90,000 people and then win the FA Cup, the most prestigious trophy in all football. The thing about an FA Cup win isn’t just the win itself. It’s the journey to get to that match, the ups and the down, the pressure of being the favourite, the weight of expectations; it all culminates in this one match.”

“So just like the FA Cup, It’s all about the journey and anything that can happen may come to pass. Maybe James King against Gordito in a Cage for a Lethal Lottery spot? Or Black Dragon having to defend against Scott Hammond and Everest in a Mayhem Rules match for his Eurasian title. This really could throw up an upset waiting to happen but not in a match for the Tag Team Championships. These belts aren’t going anywhere.”

Austin smiles again. His confidence radiates and he steps over the touchline, walking onto the pitch with a carefree look on his face.

“So I’m not afraid, bring it on I say. Ty Burna, Showtime, Constantine, come face the new tag team champion of the World! Any match you want, I’m not going to back down from anyone. I don’t fear any draw, I’ll take on anyone in any match type because I feel totally invincible.”

He approaches the centre spot at a rapid and enthusiastic pace.

“So if it is with Ricky or without him, consider this an emphatic statement of intent for the year ahead. This tag team title is going to be the first of many big wins for Austin Reynolds this year. I plan on going to the Lethal Lottery and pull double duty. This year is going to begin in earnest with me retaining my tag team title and winning the Lethal Lottery match itself. I’m going to make history because I can and there is no one better placed than me to do it. 2012 is my redemption and when I show the world what I am capable of.”

A ball is rolled to Austin as he stands by the centre spot. He flicks it up with his right foot to his head and then the ridge of his neck before allowing it to drop to the floor where he traps it with his left instep. He takes a couple of steps back before thumping it towards goal. It floats towards the frame before clipping the underside of the crossbar then settling in the opposite bottom corner. The shot draws a distant one man ovation as Austin turns to see Titus clapping high up in the stands. Austin gives him a thumbs up before he turns back to face the camera with a positively fierce, ambitious glare.

“After chasing so long, these title aren’t going anywhere especially to a no-name random team paired up out of nowhere. I don’t care if this match is against Ty Burna and Barbosa or David Cougar and Titus. Hell it could be a triple threat, two out of three falls Hell in a Cell match against both of those teams and I would still back Runn Reynolds Runn all the way.”

Austin hasn’t sounded this optimistic in a long time. After suffering a beating at the hands of various names over the past year, Austin has a spark that seems to be ignited by the random nature of the Roulette shows.

“So these Roulette shows need to hurry up and happen. I’ll take on anyone who wants a shot at me and our titles! But between now and the Lethal Lottery, I’m going all out, balls to the wall to show why I am the Ratings Winner! I’m going on a journey, that’s going to send the ratings sky-high all the way to the main event of Kingdom Come.”

And with that, the understated lighting cuts out entirely and Wembley Stadium is in pitch darkness with only the tiny red LED’s on the giant arch twinkling in the night sky.
 
Titus comes to however and begins elbowing Barbosa in the side of the head, sliding off of his shoulders. He punches away at Barbosa, finally sending him off the top rope! Barbosa lands back first on the mat as Titus slips down to the second turnbuckle. He climbs up to the top turnbuckle as the crowd begins going wild. Titus points out to the crowd before flying off the top rope, connecting with the Red Comet! He hits it square and slumps over Barbosa for the cover, 1........2........3!

Harrys: Here is your winner, and the NEEEEEEWWWWWWWW WZCW World Heavyweight Champion, TITUS!

*As Titus celebrates with his newly won title, Barbosa lies staring at the ceiling, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.*

The Smoker: One Doppelgänger. That was all it was to take…

*cough*


Depressive: A year of planning and toil ruined…

*cough*


Manic: Our shiny belt!

*Suddenly Barbosa's looks around as if he has heard some startling noise.*

Manic: Wait, who is that?

*cough*


The Smoker: Who are you?

*cough*


Depressive: How did you get in here?

*cough*


The Smoker: What are you going to do with that?

*cough*


Depressive: No…

*cough*


Manic: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

*Still lying prone on the canvas, Barbosa throws his hands up as if to protect himself from some unseen attack. However, moments later, he is at rest staring at the ceiling again. The picture then zooms in from above straight into Barbosa's eyes before snapping to black.*

__________________________________________________
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

*The darkness is interrupted by a scraping sound. After a few moments of this, the darkness begins to fade as light seeps into the screen. It is the poker room… but not as we have come to know it. The door is smashed off its hinges, the poker table lies in ruins while the floor is littered with cards and chips.

A further sweep of the room finds the Manic, Smoker and Depressive all lying on the ground with their arms and legs tied. All three seem to be only just returning to consciousness.

They quickly realise that there is a large, shadowy figure looming over them. Worse still they realise that the scraping sound has been coming from the large figure digging a hole…*


Manic: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The Smoker: Shut up! He is not going to let us out of this with squealing like that.

Depressive: He is not going to let us out no matter what we do…

The Smoker: We do not know that!

*Despite being tied up, the Smoker sits up in an attempt to get the attention of the monstrous digger.*

The Smoker: Hey! You do not have to do this.

*No reply.*

The Smoker: We could all work together.

*Again no reply.*

The Smoker: Hey! We are talking to you!

*This time the digger appears to react as he turns back to the three but instead of interacting with the trio, he simply grabs the Manic and throws him face first into the waiting grave. Seeing that his initial approach was having not effect, the Smoker tries another conspiratorial tactic.*

The Smoker: Hey, hey, big guy. How about just we work together? Together, we can rule the roost here. Out there, we can retake the world title! Reclaim our place at the top! So how about you undo these?

*The grave digger grabs the Depressive and shoves him into the grave.*

The Smoker: Yeah, that's it! Get rid of them both. They are of no use to us.

*However, the Smoker's coaxing and cajoling quickly changes to desparate screaming and squirming as the grave digger grabs him by throat and drags him to the edge of the grave.*

The Smoker: NO! Don't do this! Were you not listening?

*In his struggle, the Smoker sees something that he thinks might aid him.*

The Smoker: HEY! HEY YOU! OVER THERE IN THE CORNER! DO SOMETHING!

*This finally draws a reaction from the shadowy grave digger, who drops the Smoker beside the grave and looks over towards the corner and catches sight of the Catatonic lying in his usual place. However, when the Smoker's pleas do nothing to rouse the Catatonic from his stupor, the grave digger turns back to his work, kicking the Smoker in on top of the hyperventilating Manic and the Depressive and then beginning the arduous task of entombing his prey, dumbing dirt on the prone threesome. Despite the direness of the situation and the flailing and weeping of his counterparts, the Depressive seems resigned to his fate.*

Depressive: This is for the best.

The Smoker: WHAT?!?

Depressive: It is all tied together - Chaos must deepen and Crimson must flow for Vengeance to be had. This single-minded monster will see us back where we belong.

The Smoker: BUT NOT LIKE THIS!

Depressive: It is too late… alea iacta est

The Smoker: Wonderful! You pick this of all times to start spouting Spanish!

Depressive: "The die has been cast"

The Smoker: That does not help us!

Depressive: Not even now, at the end do you understand. We knew this day was coming for …

Manic: "In this game of thrones, you win or you die."

*From beside the Depressive, it is surprisingly the Manic who uttered the Westerosi mantra. The Depressive smirks resignedly at this.*

Depressive: And we lost…

Smoker: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

*The scene ends from the point of view of the buried as the shadowy figure continues to fill in the shallow personality grave with only the sound of the scraping shovel able to temporarily penetrate the futile screaming as the darkness descends once more…*

__________________________________________________
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

*The darkness again remains but this time it is punctuated by a regular beeping sound. After a few seconds, voices can be heard.*

Myles: How is he, Doctor?

Doctor: Physically, he is fine, Mr Myles. His body has undergone a serious bout of dehydration but our intravenous treatment has stabilised him. However, mentally…

Myles: Well, he has never been all that secure on the mental side of things, Doc.

Doctor: We are aware of his medical history. However, we have monitored some rather spectacular mental spikes and troughs in his EEG, even for someone with his conditions. At times, it was almost as if he was screaming and experiencing acute terror.

Myles: He had undergone the traumatic experience of losing the World Heavyweight Championship so soon after winning it.

Doctor: Yes, but is such a loss bad enough for someone to lie in a comatosed state, staring at the ceiling in front of thousands of people celebrating with the new champion?

Myles: Doctor, clearly, you have a lack of understanding about not only how important the WZCW title but how important his quest to obtain that title had become for Barbosa.

Doctor: Yes, but to be so unresponsive that he refused to leave the ring under his own power and, more worryingly, to even eat or drink? Mr Myles, that is not normal for anyone, especially as we have ruled out any physical problem stemming from the match he had just competed in.

Myles: If he does not snap out of this depression-induced coma soon he will not be ready for the Madness, Anarchy and the Insanity of the Roulette…

*With this mention of the Roulette, the darkness is abruptly replaced by light and as the focus sharpens, it is clear that this perspective is from Barbosa's point of view. However, as the regular beeping of the instruments do not change and the patient does not make any move, this development goes unnoticed by the Doctor and Myles, who have their backs to him.*

Myles: … which is a real pity as Barbosa was one of the real success stories of last year's Roulette. He took his first steps to becoming champion by pinning Blade in a tag match.

*Again, unseen by the others in the room, Barbosa removes the drip from his arm.*

Myles: It could even put his potential rematch for the World Heavyweight Title in jeopardy…

*After stretching his toes to get the blood flowing again, Barbosa quietly sits up.*

Doctor: Mr Myles, I think you should be less worried about your wrestling show and more worried about the health of our patient. He is in no shape to compete…

*Barbosa then begins to remove the monitors from his body. This draws attention of the doctor and Myles, although only the latter approaches the patient. If anything, drawing on his past experiences and knowledge of Barbosa, Myles takes a step backwards.*

Doctor: Mr Barbosa! What are you doing?

Myles: It looks like they are leaving. They must have sorted things out between them.

*Despite struggling to get his patient to lie back down, the doctor is still able to query Myles' pronouns.*

Doctor: They?

Myles: I thought you had read their medical history? There is more than one Barbosa in there.

*It soon becomes obvious to the doctor that he is fighting a losing battle and he stops trying to restrain Barbosa, who finishes removing the monitors and then gingerly stands up. After a few tentative steps and a few stretches to rid his legs of the early stages of bed-born atrophy, Barbosa heads towards the door. However, before he leaves, he stops in the doorway and without turning his head, speaks to Chuck Myles.*

Sign me up.

Myles: Are you guys sure you are okay?

*With that, Barbosa looks Myles straight in the eye with a look that betrays no manic depression, no arrogance rage; just pure, unadulterated coldness.*

I am Barbosa.
 
Before we see anything, we can hear the heavy breathing of a grown man. As we slowly fade into our scene, we are no closer to learning the man’s identity as a hood shields his face. He is dressed in training clothes and as we pull out from him, we can see he is running around a sporting track in a large gym. It’s obvious he’s been going for some time as his grey top is drenched with sweat. He sees the finishing line and puts all his might into one final dash towards the line. He crosses it and slows immediately, but barely catches his breath before screaming:

Man: TIME?!?

We now see two figures enter our shot as one is instantly recognisable as one of WZCW’s finest reporters; Johnny Klamor. The other is an unknown to us. He is a tall gentleman, also dressed in grey. He resembles a typical gym instructor, right down to the shorts and whistle. He responds to our central character’s query.

Instructor: 14:43.

Man: Not bad.

The Instructor throws him a towel to wipe himself down. In order to do this he is forced to pull his hood down, revealing himself to be the new Elite X Champion; Steven Holmes. Whilst drying himself of the sweat, he bends down to retrieve a water bottle. He takes a big swig before closing the lid and tossing it aside. He finishes with the towel and repeats.

Holmes: Your services are no longer required for today sir. 7:00AM sharp tomorrow for our next session though.

Instructor: Very well. Tomorrow at 7:00AM it is.

Holmes nods at the Instructor who responds with one of his own before passing Holmes to enter the locker room and eventually leave. Holmes however decides to move towards Johnny Klamor who is sat in reasonable comfort in a chair that has been provided for him. There is a vacant seat next to him, reserved for Holmes. “The Elite” takes it.

Klamor: So you seemed to be pushing yourself hard today.

Holmes: I push myself to the brink every time I can. I’ve been doing that since the day I won my championship.

Klamor: Why? Isn’t that in danger of wearing you out?

Holmes: Not at all. If anything, it only serves to increase my abilities. For example, I was far too tired following my match at All or Nothing, so I looked to increase my stamina, which was the purpose of the exercise that you witnessed. Anyway, a far superior question is why is WZCW sending yet more reporters after me? I had already conducted an interview with Mr. Kensworth not too long ago.

Klamor: Yeah, but this is standard practice from the office. All new champions are interviewed shortly after winning their belts. So you were talking about training harder than before.

Holmes looks unimpressed by Klamor’s reasoning. He then asks a question he’s been dying to unleash all morning.

Holmes: So do all champions get access to WZCW.com?

Klamor: I--uh...

Klamor is caught slightly off guard by the question and isn’t sure how to answer as he genuinely has no idea. Holmes grins manically before moving on to answer Klamor’s question.

Holmes: It’s alright Mr. Klamor. I understand why you wouldn’t be able to answer such a question. As for what you asked me, I have indeed been training harder than ever before. You see, while I despise clichés, they can be correct if applied properly. One such cliché would be “It’s harder to remain champion than it is to win it”.

Klamor: How do you know that’s the case with this championship reign?

Holmes: Because Mr. Klamor, it’s the case with every championship reign. I was a World Tag Team Champion from All or Nothing to Letha Lottery last year. I know what it’s like to lose a belt shortly after claiming it. I’ve now got a target on my back because I’m a champion. A lot of men from below are going to try to scratch and claw their way up to me. I need to remain focused in both mind and body to keep them at bay. Someone like Sam Smith, whose mental state was weakened, was unable to keep hold of his championship. That is partially why I sit here and say “I am the Elite X Champion”.

Klamor: And what about someone like Big Dave? He seemed to be on top of his game and yet he lost the championship he had worked his entire life for in a matter of weeks.

Holmes s******s at this notion and wags his finger as if to say “You don’t know the full story”.

Holmes: Mr. Klamor, I’ve already used one, I would hate to use yet another cliché.

Klamor looks unimpressed however and insists that Holmes explain to him. “The Elite” puts his laughter to one side for now and begins to answer.

Holmes: Very well. Looks can be deceiving. The Big Dave I knew from my first match at Meltdown 39 was far and away the more astute of the two when comparing him to a modern day Big Dave. You see, it was obvious to anyone who looked carefully enough that Big Dave had his psyche worn down by the likes of Hunter Kravinoff, Barbosa, Wasabi Toyota and Ty Burna. Hell, the man lost to an imbecile like Mr. Baller...

Klamor: Baller’s proven himself on multiple occasions to be a top contender and is scheduled to enter last in the Lethal Lottery match this year.

Holmes: Let me ask you a question Mr. Klamor; is Mr. Baller a man who people are saying is without a shadow of a doubt going to be the World Heavyweight Champion? Is he a man that people are almost already guaranteeing will be the winner of Lethal Lottery? No. He isn’t. Was Big Dave? Your damn right he was.

Holmes has leaned into Klamor’s face and the personal space of Johnny Klamor may have just been invaded. He realises that he’s a little too close for comfort based on the slightly worried look on Klamor’s face. He backs down, receding into his seat.

Holmes: My point is this. Big Dave was at one time the man destined to obliterate all who lay in his way. When I saw him capture the World Heavyweight Championship, he was a shell of his former self. He achieved his dream, but he’d allowed himself to become corrupt and overwrought with emotion. He paid the price and lost his championship.

Klamor: Well doesn’t that beg the question; why attack him?

Holmes smiles slyly and looks at the floor as if contemplating something in his twisted mind, remembering just why he did it. Suddenly he brings his head back to it’s original position and looks directly into Johnny Klamor’s eyes.

Holmes: I’m not going to tell you. Not yet anyway. You see, I like to keep little secrets. That’s how I was able to move into the Crashin Movement. That’s how I was able to ally myself with Sam Smith’s brother. That’s how I was able to bring John Constantine back into the fold. And that’s how this shall remain. It’s not the only secret that I’m keeping close at the moment. I’ll reveal them sooner rather than later, but for now, they remain up my sleeve. I will say this about Big Dave though. He was merely the latest in a long line of victims who are going to go from hope and glory to be being nothing but another cadaver occupying a hospital bed.

Klamor appears to be somewhat worried at the idea of comparing the quite alive Big Dave to a corpse and notes the seriousness in Holmes’ voice. He also notes how much Holmes seemed to have enjoyed telling him that. His journalistic responsibility urges him to press on though.

Klamor: Well let’s shift focus Mr. Holmes. This upcoming round is the annual Meltdown Madness and Ascension Anarchy shows. It’s a time where anything can happen. You could be challenging for another championship, or you could be defending your own. What are your thoughts?

Holmes: Last year I said that a little bit of chaos can go a long way. I was wrong. It’s become blatantly apparent that a LOT of chaos goes a long way. How do you think Ty Burna was able to sustain a one year title reign? The same with Alex Bowen in the Mayhem division. It’s no coincidence that I’ve embraced the more destructive side of my being. By doing that, I’ve attained success and become a champion once more. This round of shows is designed for someone like me. It’s designed for someone who enjoys inflicting pain and punishment. One could say I, what’s the term again? Ah yes, get off on it.

Again, Klamor is concerned. In order to hide this, he must keep pushing on with more questions, and he does so.

Klamor: But what about defending your title against an opponent that isn’t pre-determined? Does that not throw a curve-ball at you?

Holmes snorts before chuckling at Klamor’s question.

Holmes: It doesn’t matter if they resurrect Doug Crashin or throw Joseph Rios in my path; I’ll steam-roll anyone who lays in front of me. You could ask any WZCW fan from here to the beaches of Normandy; “Who has been on the biggest roll in the company to date?” They might answer Titus or Black Dragon or whoever, but they all know, deep down, that Steven Holmes is the real, and correct, answer. Just look at what I’ve done in the last few weeks alone. I’ve defeated an up-and-comer in Brad Bomb, brought Constantine back into the fold, defeated Sam Smith twice, overcome the current World Heavyweight Champion, made a number one contender submit and, oh yes, ended Big Dave’s career.

Klamor: You’re fairly adamant about this whole Bid Dave’s career being dead thing aren’t you?

Holmes: Because it is. Big Dave’s neck sustained severe trauma. I would not be surprised if I’ve prevented Dave from living the same life he did once. I may have confined him to an eternity in pain and misery. I may have put him in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.

Klamor: I of all people shouldn’t be asking this, but, don’t you feel any remorse?

Holmes stares blankly, coldly in fact, into Klamor’s eyes and answers with complete certainty.

Holmes: No. No remorse. That’s a sign of weakness. Dave showed that and I ended him. You must eat before you are eaten. That is the law that I live by. It is the nature of WZCW. That is what this next round of shows will expose with chaos at an all time high. Whoever I face next, they will succumb to me. I will gobble them up and they will be doomed forever more.

There is a dramatic pause as neither man is sure how to follow that up. It is surprisingly Johnny Klamor who breaks the silence though.

Klamor: That’s...that’s all I need Mr. Holmes. Thank you for inviting me here.

Holmes: Oh, but I didn’t cover the possibilities of drawing a match with Constantine or let you see my newest in-ring manoeuvres.

Klamor: That’s quite all right. I’m sure we’ll see them this week.

Holmes smiles satisfied and nods.

Holmes: Of course. Well I’m sure you know the way out. I’m going to shower and get changed. Good luck with your report Mr. Klamor.

Klamor: Thanks.

Both men have their back to each other as Klamor walks away; he utters something about Holmes being “psychotic” under his breath. He believes Holmes has not heard him as he exits our scene. However, our final shot is of Holmes flashing a switchblade smile (as in it goes on for miles) satisfied with the impression he has left.
 
The scene begins with Ricky Runn inside the seat of his car. His title bet at the seat next to him as he looks outside of the car. He was in his hometown of Miami Florida, but in replace of the sun, was a slow rainstorm overhead. The Dare-Devil was also dressed rather nicely as he was in a nice fitting black suit with a yellow button up shirt underneath. Even his long, blonde hair was pulled back behind his eyes and his ears with his tinted Aviators on over his eyes. Despite the storm, he stepped out of his car with his Tag Title thrown over his shoulder. After a bit of walking through the graveyard, he finally finds the headstone for his beloved friend, Rachael. His eyes look down and read the head stone as it reads. Rachel Lopez, 1993-2011 “Life is a garden, just dig it dude!” Ricky smirked at the quote and said quietly.

“Rachael, you never cease to amaze me with how out there you can be…”

Ricky took a deep breath and looked down at the grave. He removed his glasses before speaking louder.

“I know this may be a little cheesy Rachael, but bear with me. Austin traveled out of Country to go talk about some soccer stuff, and Rob is on vacation…And I really wanted to talk to you anyway.”

Ricky sighed and rubbed his palm into his face and said to himself.

“I can’t believe I am talking to you like this Rachael…It’s just…I wish you were here.”

There is an awkward silence for Ricky before chirping up and pulls the title from his shoulder holding it high.

“I won the tag titles, can you believe it? I made the Japanese Steak Sauce guy tap out. It was awesome! Reynolds and I want to hold a party to celebrate!...Or at least I want to.”

Ricky smiled and looked down as the rain started to drench the Daredevils hair, causing it to fall over his face as he continues.

“I have a lot of people to thank, but most importantly, I have to thank you. I didn’t have any ambition or drive to do anything until I met you Rachael. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have made my trip to Chicago if it weren’t for you. “

Ricky smiled as he rubs his finger on the name plate of the belt. He looked back up and chirped.

“Life has been crazy since I left. I’ve been beat up, smacked down, injured. But I kept getting right back up. Only because I knew if you were in my corner you would have brushed it off and told me to tough it out and keep going. And I did, hell, after All or Nothing I can’t feel all that well in my left hand.”

Ricky grins as he pulls back his sleeve as if to show Rachael the wrapping around his hand and wrist.

“But this still isn’t enough for me. I still want more, Austin and I can’t settle for being the best tag team in the company. We want to put on the best show for all our fans. And Lethal Lottery will be the best chance to do that. This upcoming week I have a chance to get a match to qualify for Lethal Lottery. If I keep up this winning streak I can be not only Tag Team Champ, but a world champion as well! Imagine it, the first Superstar of WZCW to hold both the World Title and the Tag Titles? I can be the biggest star in WZCW if I work hard enough!”

Ricky smiles and stands proudly and then calms down a little and continues.

“Sorry, I got a little excited. All I know is I want to be the best I can be. And I know I can, I know I can because I had someone believe in me all the way through. But I am asking you, if you can let me know if you are watching over me…Just give me a sign. Just give me a sign to let me know that no matter what happens, I will always know you will be supporting from the greatest seats of the house.”

After Ricky spoke, he looks up to see the sun shine through the clouds. He smiles up and says happily.

“You always know how to brighten my day Rachael, sometimes in more than one way. I owe you everything Rachael, sometimes even more…This has been a good chat. I promise to stop by as much as I can to visit Rachael.”

Ricky closed his eyes and began his prayers. Once he finished his Hail Mary he walked backed to his car and started driving back home.
 
Mick Overlast sits alone at his gate in Denver International Airport, still steaming from his Pittsburgh Steelers' loss to the Denver Broncos in an AFC Wild Card game. The scene of Demaryius Thomas running for the game-winning touchdown in overtime continues to replay through his head until the ringing of his phone breaks his thoughts. Overlast pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and sees it's Leon Kensworth on the other line.

Overlast: Kensworth, you have 10 minutes. My flight is about to board soon.

Kensworth: Glad I got a chance to catch you then, Mick. How are you? Happy New Year!

Overlast: Yeah, whatever. I've had better days. What do you want?

Kensworth: Nothing really. Just was wondering why you didn't make it to the WZCW New Year's party last week.

Overlast laughs into the phone before answering.

Overlast: Party? With you losers? Yeah, right! What'd you guys do – play spin-the-bottle with Becky and that one blonde girl? Did you get a little kissy-kiss from one of them at midnight, or did you have to seek out Sean Cruz?

Kensworth: You're a funny guy. You should've seen the girls last night, though, Mick. They looked pretty good.

Overlast: Yeah, it's a shame they probably picked up God-knows-what from the slobs in the locker room that night.

Kensworth: That's kinda harsh, Mick.

Overlast: I really don't care, Leon. You should know that by now. So is that all you wanted?

Kensworth: Nah, I was hoping to get to talk to you about this upcoming weekend.

Overlast: Yeah, it pisses me off that I have to waste my time potentially sitting through three shows when I'm only needed for one. I guess that's what Bateman and Myles need to do to make the sheep think things are unpredictable. It'll be the same old thing: Ty Burna will drone on and on about what his little piece of paper tells him, Runn Reynolds Runn will prattle on about how great they are when they're just the faces of a terrible tag team division, and the Internet Warrior will lose yet again.

Kensworth: Speaking of, that was a close win over the Internet Warrior at After Shock.

Overlast: I kicked his ass, Kensworth, end of story. Get it right.

Kensworth: Sorry, sorry. So what kind of match do you think you'll be in?

Overlast: Shit, I don't know, Leon. Maybe I'll face Triple X in a drinking contest. Or I could face the man of many words, Darren Bull. I could earn a spot in the Lethal Lottery or have a title match...even better yet, maybe I'll get a World Heavyweight Title shot against Titus. Wouldn't that just piss off the entire organization when I win? Not only do I stand against everything WZCW does, but I've also been here for a much shorter time than most of the roster. Plus, I have big plans for the title belt when I get it.

Kensworth: You know the odds of you getting a shot like that are extremely unlikely, right?

Overlast: What, have you already broken down the numbers like the nerd you are? Let me tell you something...the odds are extremely good that I'm going to kick somebody's ass this weekend. It doesn't matter who it is, what kind of match it is, or anything like that. I ended 2011 on a good note by winning my last two matches, and I plan on starting 2012 by continuing my roll. Whoever gets in the ring with me should just expect and accept defeat because they WILL be beaten. You see, Kensworth, 2012 will be the Year of Overlast, and you can mark that down in your little magazine that you put out.

Kensworth: Moving on...could you talk about the little meeting you had with Blade and Hammond at After Shock?

Overlast: It wasn't a meeting. They asked me to be in their little stable, but I don't have time to associate myself with losers. They had a chance to prove themselves at All or Nothing and failed miserably. If they want to talk about getting rid of the dead weight, they should just up and leave.

Kensworth: Any chance I can talk further with you once you get back into town?

Overlast: Nothing further needs to be said, Kensworth.

With that, Overlast hangs up the phone as his flight begins to board. As he makes his way through the line, he angrily glares at a heckler who notices Overlast's Steelers jersey. With a scowl, he gives his boarding pass to the flight attendant and disappears down the walkway toward the plane, ready for what lies ahead.
 
The scene starts with Sam Smith being pinned by Steven Holmes, losing his Elite X Championship.

Defeat is a hard pill to swallow. One minute you're riding high, living the dream as one of the company's champions, the next -- you're just another generic face in the crowd, forgotten. All that can change this week, though. It's time for the Roulette and anything is possible.

An image of the roulette wheel flashes across the screen.

New champions can be crowned, temporary alliances can be forged.

Images of Ferbian winning the Mayhem Championship and Ty/Dave, Smith/Everest flash across the screen.

You must expect nothing, yet prepare for everything.

Finally, the shot now focuses on Sam Smith, talking straight into the camera.

With my title reign ending, I now have all the opportunity in the world lying at my feet. What will come? Will I regain my belt? Will I win a new one? Maybe, I don't know. I do know one thing -- it's time for Sam Smith to step up and become a true contender, a World Heavyweight Championship contender. The Roulette, the Lethal Lottery, so many chances, I just need to separate from the crowd.

A true champion, a true competitor can learn from their losses, they can better themselves. I will use that Elite X Championship and all the fans I let down as motivation for my ultimate goal. This week is the first step in that direction. Not only will I be preparing for the Lethal Lottery, which would guarantee me a World Heavyweight Championship shot at Kingdom Come, if I won, but who knows what match I get this week? Just imagine, Sam Smith vs. Titus for the World Heavyweight Championship, what a surprise that would be, eh?

Don't mistake what I'm saying for false confidence, though. I know I lost my title, but it's time to move on. I plan on doing that this week, with whoever I face. Whether it be Saboteur, Ty Burna, Titus, Jack Skinner, or The Internet Warrior -- I don't care. I have one plan and that is to win.

I had one of the greatest Elite X Championship title reigns of all time. I cherished the belt, I worshiped it. I grew as a man and as a wrestler defending that belt; I'm ready for a step up now.


Smith points to his waist.

The ultimate step up would be becoming World Heavyweight Champion, then offering some stability to the division. As of late, it has been a revolving door, Big Dave, Barbosa, and now Titus -- a champion needs to defend his belt and bring prestige to the belt.

For now, that's a far off dream for me. Then again, so was joining WZCW in the first place, much less winning the Elite X Championship. Overcoming all the odds is something I'm all too familiar with, so, in a way, I welcome it. Sure, the odds proved too steep at All or Nothing, but with the added motivation, I have no doubt in my abilities or my will.


Smith pauses, thinking.

Whoever I may face this week, I'll be prepared. I am as motivated as I've been in my entire career. From this point on, it is all or nothing. Losing the Elite X Championship was a big hit to take, but it was a sign. I will consider myself a failure if I don't contend for the World Heavyweight Championship, because, after all, what else is left? The only thing above the Elite X Championship is the World Heavyweight Championship and I plan on proving I deserve a shot at that belt in the coming weeks.

This is all building to the Lethal Lottery, where one man will reign supreme above the rest. You may doubt me, but I will be the one going on to Kingdom Come to face Titus.

It's time for a change. It's time for Sam Smith to step up.
 
The calm music of nature joyfully travels through the ears of those attending and working at one of Sydney's finest Spa retreats, relaxing those who wish to blissfully enjoy their bodies and become one with themselves: not caring about the world. In this world, beaming smiles would be expected but the beauty of doing nothing causes everyone's face to become expressionless as they let their spirits and minds run free whilst their body recuperates from the damages of modern life and society. Only those who are at work providing for this special environment can muster up the energy to smile, giving customers that extra level of enjoyment. However, the scenario changes slightly as one person emerges from the male's sauna and bathroom doorway who comes out stretching his arms and back excessively, something not seen by the staff as they look at him weirdly. Although, they glance at him not because of his unusual behaviour or that this man is the Professor, Steven Kurtesy... but of the lack of towel around his waste that is issued to everyone as they walk through the doors looking for treatment to cover the exposed areas. Two staff members look at each other before one of them quickly wanders off, leaving the other member to tend to Kurtesy. She grabs a towel from a nearby shelf and walks over to him as continues stretching, this time his legs.

Excuse me, sir.

Kurtesy goes from touching the ground with his fingertips to standing straight up in the air. The female is consequently lost for a few seconds.

My lady, you don't have to address me as sir. That isn't my proper title: it's Professor. Nevertheless, please call me Steve.

He extends out a hand. She hesitates for a moment before shaking his hand, then offers him the towel.

Steve, I'm Tanya... just thought I'd come over and replace your missing towel. I apologise, sometimes the janitors and cleaning staff get ahead of themselves and take them when they are being used still.

Kurtesy gives out a bit of a laugh as he takes the towel and starts rubbing the sweat coming from his bald head and pores on his face from the humidity inside.

It wasn't missing, Tanya.

Kurtesy flicks the towel over his shoulder, not where Tanya intended.

I simply donated it to a very obese man who quite clearly needed a second one for dabbing when I walked into the first treatment room.

Tanya is a little shocked.

You mean... you've never had a towel this entire time?

Kurtesy smiles.

Yes.

But...

She takes a quick glance at Kurtesy: top to bottom.

... how did you walk out of there with...

No sweat from the sauna's and no water from the showers?

Tanya pauses for a moment.

Er, yes.

Again Kurtesy smiles.

I'm afraid if I told you, I'd have to kill you.

Kurtesy laughs at the reference but it seems Tanya does not know of that quote. Kurtesy clears his throat and becomes a bit more serious.

Where is the next station, Tanya?

... Ah, yes. Right this way then.

Tanya leads Kurtesy out of the room and down a long narrow corridor, passing by quite a number of people who have a gander at the two. They eventually exit the corridor and find themselves in a room full of mud and milk baths. Kurtesy smiles as he likes the next stage. Tanya ushers him over to an empty mud bath, quite close to another bath which is currently occupied. Kurtesy puts the towel down and slowly gets into the bath and begins to get himself comfortable, prompting Tanya to walk off. As Kurtesy puts his hands behind his head, he notices the person next to him who is completely covered in mud staring at him before they look directly up smiling. Kurtesy is intrigued by the facial expression.

Do you find myself entertaining or are you happy to see me?

The other person chuckles.

Little bit of both Professor.

The person turns around to Kurtesy who is a little taken back that someone knows him and grabs his towel. The person wipes their face down to reveal that it is, co-incidentally, Sandy Deserts. The shock on Kurtesy's face and his after-reaction as he tries covering up makes Sandy burst out laughing.

So now you decide to cover up... when the mud is already doing it for you?

What are you doing here?

So you can make comparisons about the upcoming Roulette where you could be paired up with anyone and you should be prepared for anything...

Kurtesy's stares at her confused.

I'm here for the same reason as you: just so happens that we decided to take this treatment on the same day, same time and end up at the same place. However, up until you figured out it was me, why the sudden boost of confidence? I've never seen you strut around like that at the office.

That's because I'd scare away a lot of my patients and lose quite a bit of money.

They both share a laugh.

Honestly though, I feel great. The victory I got at All or Nothing was the sweetest thing I've ever tasted. Being alongside Saxton and Saboteur taking down the Chaos really got me pumped. Not only have I destroyed of my dry spell but I've finally beaten them and done what I wanted to do: give them a warning. We have taken this battle on the night that they needed the victory the most and put them on notice that their order aren't going to waltz through here and take everything they want. They're going to have to go through people like me before they ever get that chance.

That's a reason to celebrate: but what makes you think one little victory is going to throw them off-course?

A smile comes from Kurtesy's face as a mud bubble coming from the bath jets pops out onto the surface.

Heading into the PPV, they were almost untouchable. Everest, Brad Bomb, myself... all taken down by Ty's army. The moment Ty's kryptonite walks along with Saxton his plans fall to crap and his men can't even harm me. Now that he didn't get the last spot in the LL and his men lost to us, he's got some serious thinking to do heading into the mystery rounds. He'll be too pre-occupied trying to repair things that aren't even broke... giving me a chance for me to take things steady, slow down and relax and achieve one thing: getting myself a spot in the Lottery. It's like the aftermath of my feud with Holmes all over again... which reminds me I have to send that man a congratulatory gift basket on his success for winning that title he's been dreaming of for ages.

You know, with the Roulette round, you could be facing him for the Elite X Championship.

Kurtesy lets out a bit of a chuckle.

While that would be nice, I don't think fate is going to be terrible like that. I mean, we've written our story and adding a second book would kill all meaning of the first. Not to mention I don't want to pull a Titus and take the title off of Holmes just after he won it... although a shot at the World Champ would be nice. I only ever seem to get those opportunities at Unscripted with three other men in a cage match... hope I don't get pitted in one of those again. I know it's my specialty being in cages but I'm definitely starting to get a little over them. Ha... see what I did there? Oh and the...

Steve... you're rambling again.

Kurtesy seems a little embarrassed and laughs it off.

Sorry, I was getting ahead of myself.

It happens to the best of us. All you can wish for is not to get screwed over by the roulette and compete in a handicap match and be at the top of your game. Something similar to last year's result would be nice, wouldn't it?

Another tag title match for the EurAsian title with Barbosa as my tag partner? Wasn't a fan... although it'd be definitely better than an opportunity for the tag titles. Three time champ would be nice but I don't want to be known as a tag team guy forever.

Well, someone best be getting back to their training then?

Kurtesy thinks for a moment.

Yeah, you're right. Time for me to head off.

Kurtesy emerges from the mud bath, all covered in the thick liquid. He grabs his towel and does the best he can to wipe it off before he begins heading out.

I hate to see you leave so soon...

Kurtesy laughs.

Catch you around, Sandy.

He walks off through the way he came in, exiting the room.

... but I sure as hell love to watch you walk out.

Sandy closes her eyes and slowly allows her body to be fully submerged by the mud once more.
 
The cameras are fuzzy and scrambled as they cut into a scene of Aftershock last week. The clip shown is of Ryan Raynes' match.

As the clip fades back out to a fuzzy screen turns to shattered glass and cuts to a dimly light room. The only light coming from a the grates of a furnace, clearly the boiler room. As the cameras get closer we can see Ryan Raynes' face. His face is contorted into a solemn look of disgust.


Raynes : I need not explain what happened last week. Darren Bull got lucky and clearly caught me off guard. It won't happen again. I won't let it, I will not go down without a fight!

Raynes hands brush over his face and down through his beard as he continues to speak.

Raynes : I came to WZCW for reason, and that was dominate , and shower the power a man can have when he stands alone. You see, all of you people out there trust one another, believe in one another. You never know how false that trust can be until you are right in the middle of things.

As Raynes continues to talk the fire in the furnace begins to slowly fade into nothing. The room goes dark but the cameras stay with him.


Raynes : Once you all realize that trust makes you weak, makes you vulnerable. You will all be able to realize you're potential, how much better off you are alone. You see I wasn't afraid to fade into nothingness. Becoming nothing, it made me stronger, it gave me a reason to live.


There is a brief noise and suddenly the furnace's fire is burning ten times stronger then before and Raynes' face becomes illuminated again.

Raynes : I'm stronger on my own. I don't need anyone , and my dominance will begin next week, whether it be Meltdown, Ascension, or Aftershock!
 
Reporter 1: Jack! Over here!

Reporter 2: Mr. Skinner!

Reporter 3: Yo! This way! I got a question!

Jack is leaving the gym, bag in hand, trying to get to his car. In the parking lot, a small mob has formed, and is all over him. Two days prior, Jack said on Twitter that "Enough is enough", and he is tired of losing. Since then, he has been out of the spotlight, and this is his first time seen in public since. As he shields his eyes from the flashbulbs, he turns to the reporters, and gives his statement.

Jack Skinner: You guys remind me of Klamor...Geez...

Reporter 2: Jack, we have to know. What exactly do you mean by "Enough is enough"?

It's pretty self-explanatory. I'm sick of losing. I'm sick of being a joke around here. I'm sick of coming so close, yet staring up at the lights, match after match after match. Klamor will tell you it's in my blood to be a "heel". That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about working even harder. Not just in the gym, but on my mind, and my thinking. I can't expect to win, simply because I want it. I need to expect to win, because I know I'm better than the man across the ring. I need to expect to win, because I'm smarter than my opponent. It's that simple. I made my comments, and hid from you guys, because I can't center myself, being surrounded by the bullcrap. I'm not going to go all zen on you, but I needed to clear my head, and get refocused.

Reporter 3: That sounds like a lot of baloney, Jack. You may "center" yourself, as you say, but you're still giving up 40-50 pounds to anyone you face, and simply don't have the power to outmuscle anyone.

That's what I mean. I don't need this. I'm out...

At that, Jack throws his bag in his car, and speeds off...

**************************************************************

Jack pulls into the lot outside the hotel, and shuts off his car. He reclines the seat, and rubs his temples, trying to move on from the run-in with the reporters. Suddenly, his cell rings, and he jumps. It's Leon.

Just what I need. A friendly voice.

Leon Kensworth: Jack? You there?

Yeah, I'm here. What's new?

There's a buzz about you, Jack, and it ain't good. People are saying you're cracking. You're stacking up these losses, and it's weighing on you.

C'mon! Et tu, Leon?

You know it's not me! I'm just surprised people are all over a tweet! I know you'll get out of this. How's the new training methods going?

Mixed results. Getting some new moves down, and hitting the weights a bit. Trying not to overwork myself, y'know?

Look, don't kill yourself. It'll turn around. Always does. You got a big week coming up.

Big week? Maybe. Could be a title shot. The way my luck has been, it could be a First Blood Fatal FourWay against Everest, Ty, and Titus. That wouldn't be so big.

Don't get yourself down. For all we know, it'll be a Dance-Off with Saboteur. You can cut a rug. I've seen you do it!

You feelin' alright? A Dance Off? I'm trying not to dread on the awful, and you bring up a Dance Off...

Both men laugh heartily, then Jack gets back to the topic at hand.

Look...I don't know what I'm facing. I'm working on my confidence, and working on my ring skills, and trying to research everyone, to get a good handle on this coming show. I appreciate the call, but I need to get upstairs, and make some phone calls. See you at the arena?

Sure thing, Jack! Get some rest. You'll be fine!
 
The scene opens with Saboteur strolling down the street his apartment is on, whistling as he enjoys another lovely day in Union City, New Jersey. Saboteur gets to the front door of his building and opens it up. As he starts to walk in a man in a suit bumps Saboteur as he walks out.

Saboteur: Hey watch where you’re going ya buffoon!

Man in Suit: I’m terribly sorry sir. Excuse me for asking, but aren’t you Saboteur?

Saboteur: Yeah, and what of it?

Man in Suit: That’s all I needed to know. Boys?

Two more men in dark suits and sunglasses burst onto the scene. One puts a chloroformed rag over Saboteur’s mouth, and the other man restrains Saboteur’s arms.

Saboteur struggles for a brief moment before the chloroform gets the better of him. The two cronies drag Saboteur out of the building by his arms as the third man in the suit follows them outside. As the men reach the curb, a white van pulls up and the back door opens. The two cronies get in the back of the van with Saboteur as the leader climbs into the passenger seat. The doors to the van close, and the tightly orchestrated plan turns into a well-executed mission.

---Sometime Later---

Saboteur woozily wakes up in the back of the van. He is groggy and his vision is blurred, but he quickly realizes his hands and feet are bound as he struggles to move. As Saboteur regains his vision, he is able to make out the figures of two men sitting across from him.

Saboteur: Whe… where am I? Who are you guys? Are we going to Disney Land?

Keith: My name is Keith. This is my partner, Shelton. And no, we are not going to Disney Land, we’re going to the woods.

Saboteur: The woods? But I didn’t even bring my sleeping bag! Do you guys have an extra? Oh I just LOVE camping. It reminds me of when I used to hunt rebel scum when I was doing a job in Bosnia. Or was that Boston?

Shelton: We’re not going camping, Saboteur. We’re taking you to your new home.

Saboteur: Wait… is this a reality show? Did I finally get on Extreme Home Makeover?! Where’s Ty Pennington?! I wanna see if he talks like that all the time!

Keith: No. We’re taking you to the woods. And you’re staying there. Forever.

Saboteur: What? Why?

Shelton: Saboteur… it has come to our attention that you’re good.

Keith: Really good.

Shelton: Like cigarette after sex good.

Keith: Like a sandwich after sex good.

Saboteur: What about a cigarette sandwich after sex good?

Shelton: I’ve never tried that. Regardless, you’ve caught the attention of some very powerful people.

Keith: People who don’t want you around.

Shelton: People that can afford to make that happen.

Saboteur: Sounds a lot like a certain person whose name rhymes with Thiegh Burna…

Keith: We’re not at liberty to discuss who our employer is, but it’s not Mr. Burna.

Saboteur: Hmmm, what about that Stephen Holmes guy? He hates everything.

Shelton: No, it’s not Mr. Holmes either, but really, we aren’t at a liberty to discuss.

Keith: Regardless of who employed us, we’re here to make sure you never show up at a WZCW event ever again. Ever.

The van suddenly starts to get bumpy.

Saboteur: Yeah, whatever. I’m pretty sure I can find my way out of whatever forest you throw me into. Besides, this is New Jersey. There are no trees in Jersey!

The van comes to a screeching halt and Shelton and Keith stand up. The doors to the back of the van are opened by the drive and the leader of the bunch, and Keith and Shelton throw Saboteur face first out of the van. Keith hops out of the back of the van and cuts the ropes that kept Saboteur bound, and the gang of men in dark suits get back in the van and drive off, leaving Saboteur alone in the woods.

Saboteur gets up slowly in slight pain after being tossed from a van onto the cold, hard earth.

Saboteur: Where did all these trees come from? Where the hell am I?

Saboteur turns around and sees a sign. He decides to read it out loud for effect.

Saboteur: Pine Barrens New Jersey: Home of the New Jersey Devil, Red Necks, and People that Hate Masked Wrestlers. Well now that last part just seems silly.

Voice: Hey! That thar’s one of them masked wrestler types. Let’s git ‘em!

Saboteur turns around to see an angry mob of toothless red necks forming. Knowing that he won’t get the satisfaction of knocking their teeth down their throats, Saboteur decides to make a run for it instead, and flees into a deeply wooded part of the forest.

-----A few minutes later------

Saboteur jumps over a fallen pine tree and slows his run to a walk, and then stops completely to catch his breath.

Saboteur: Phew, I think I lost them. Now to get out of these woods… there’s a Good Times marathon tonight and I refuse to miss it.

As Saboteur regains his bearings he hears leaves crunching. His head perks up as he looks towards the direction the sound is coming from. He cautiously follows the sound, careful as to not startle whoever is making it for fear of giving himself up to the angry redneck mob.

As Saboteur gets closer to the source of the sound he begins to hear heavy breathing and a man mumbling something to himself. Saboteur moves closer and closer to the source of the sound, and as he gets closer the sound gets louder. Saboteur peeks around the tree towards the direction of the sounds and is startled at what he sees: a grown man rolling around on the ground in deer feces.

Saboteur is obviously disgusted by the actions of the man and goes back to hiding behind the tree. He mouths the word “gross”, but peers around the tree again to again see the horrific sight. However, when Saboteur looks to the spot where the man once lay, he sees nothing.

Saboteur: What the… where’d he go?

Saboteur starts to approach the site of the man and the poop. He takes a few steps towards the clearing when a dark, cloaked figure rises from behind him and suddenly grabs him and holds a knife to Saboteur’s throat.

Dark Figure: Aha! I knew they’d send one of their henchmen to finish off the job those cowards started!

Saboteur: I’ve had just about enough of this today, thank you.

Saboteur grabs the dark figure’s arm and flips him over to the ground. The figure drops the knife, which Saboteur picks up and holds to the mysterious man’s throat.

Saboteur: Ha! The tables have turned! Now let’s just see who you really are!

Saboteur pulls the hood of the cloak off to reveal the man’s face.

Saboteur: *GASP*! It’s… uh… the guy who was in WZCW when I started.

Dark Figure: My name is Hunter Kravinoff you donkey’s ass! And I’m at least fourteen times the man you will ever be!

Saboteur no longer feels threatened by the man, but is now rather intrigued.

Saboteur: Kravinoff? Weren’t you like… good? Really good?

Kravinoff: Yes, I was really good. One might say I was cigarette sandwich after sex good. But that doesn’t matter anymore, I have a new life.

Saboteur pulls the knife away from Kravinoff’s throat and allows the great Hunter to sit up.

Saboteur: What? Living in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey? You’d rather roll around in deer crap than get paid money for kicking ass?

Kravinoff: Hah, I don’t expect a city slicker like you to understand. I wrestled because I thought it was the greatest challenge for a wild man like me. I wanted to show the world that no man, woman, or child could compete with my raw animalistic fierceness. But I have found a new challenge: one far greater than any human could provide for me.

Saboteur: If it’s fighting a toothless red neck mob, than I think we could really work something out here.

Kravinoff ignores Saboteur and continues.

Kravinoff: I, Hunter Kravinoff, am going to be the man to kill the New Jersey Devil.

Saboteur: What?! What did they ever do to you? And why not kill a bunch of toothless rednecks instead of a bunch of toothless hockey players?

Kravinoff: Not the hockey team you idiot! The monster! The beast! The Devil incarnate himself!

Saboteur: Yeah… I’m pretty sure that that’s just a legend.

Karvinoff: What if I told you I saw the beast with my own two eyes?

Saboteur: I’d say you’re pretty crazy.

Kravinoff: I’m crazy?! I’m not the one running around in a full bodysuit masquerading as some sort of super hero, pandering to the masses with my antics and (Kravinoff begins to sneer) joyfulness.

Saboteur: Well I’m not the one that was just rolling around in deer poop.

------Later that Night-----

Saboteur and Kravinoff sit on opposite ends sides of a campfire eating dinner. Kravinoff chomps away at what appears to be an entire leg of a deer, as Saboteur roasts a piece of meat over the open fire.

Saboteur: So… what part of the deer did you say this was?

Kravinoff answers with a full mouth

Kravinoff: That’s the tongue. Consider yourself lucky that I’m allowing you to eat such a tasty treat.

Saboteur’s face sours at the thought of eating tongue.

Saboteur: Got anything else? Maybe some hotdogs? Peanut butter and Jelly? Fruity Pebbles?

Kravinoff: No, but there’s a 7/11 right behind that giant rock over there, you might be able to get a two day old burrito and a slurpee.

Saboteur: Really!?

Kravinoff: No, now eat your tongue.

Saboteur’s brief moment of optimism turns to one of disappointment as he gingerly bites into the deer tongue. He begins to chew the deer tongue as the sudden rush of euphoria reaches his taste buds. Saboteur lights up at the deliciousness in his mouth.

Saboteur: Holy taste buds Kravinoff, this is delicious!

Kravinoff: Not only is the deer tongue a treat for the senses, but it’s very nutritious as well, and you’ll need it for tomorrow.

Saboteur: Why? What’s happening tomorrow?

Kravinoff: We’re going hunting for the Jersey Devil.

Saboteur: How many times have I told you? The Jersey Devil isn’t real!

Kravinoff: Once, and I don’t believe you. I’ve seen it myself, and I plan to kill it.

Saboteur: Okay, I’ll humor you. So if the Jersey Devil is real, how do you plan on catching it, let alone killing it?

Kravinoff: I’m an expert hunter and tracker. I caught this deer, didn’t I?

Saboteur: You took it off the side of a highway! I can see the tire marks on its hide!

Kravinoff: And if I hadn’t found my way to the highway, we’d be stuck eating whatever worms we can dig out of the ground. You’re welcome.

Saboteur: Say… if you can find your way to the highway, why not go back to WZCW?

Kravinoff stops eating for a bit, looks up at Saboteur for a brief moment, and then back down at his meal. He starts picking at the deer bone as he begins his story.

Kravinoff: Why should I go back? They don’t want me there anyway.

Saboteur: The fans not might like you, but you were good wrestler.

Kravinoff: I was a GREAT wrestler you ingrate, better than anyone else in that company, including that fat Wasabi Toyota or that pathetic lackey of mine Barbosa. I was the only one that would have been able to break Ty Burna’s unbeaten streak.

Saboteur: Toyota is gone, Barbosa was World Champion, and I snapped Ty Burna’s streak.

Karvinoff throws the deer leg to the ground and stands up and roars…

Kravinoff: LIES! Why do you taunt me with such filth!? I have the right mind to slit your throat and eat your tongue.

Saboteur gets up and defiantly answers…

Saboteur: I’m not lying Kravinoff. Toyota is gone, he left after Barbosa beat him for the King for a Day briefcase.

Kravinoff: That’s MY briefcase!

Saboteur: And Barbosa used that briefcase to cash in on Big Dave for the title.

Kavinoff: And that’s MY title! … wait, Big Dave? Did you beat Ty Burna for the championship!?

Saboteur: No, I beat Ty Burna on Meltdown. I guess I softened him up for Big Dave at Unsccripted.

Kravinoff: You mean to tell me that you snapped Ty Burna’s undefeated streak… and it was for NOTHING?

Saboteur: Well, not for nothing. I got a nice paycheck after that which I used to buy a TON of cereal.

Kravinoff’s face turns from a frown to an insane scowl. His face turns red with anger as he begins pacing back and forth, breathing heavily. He occasionally looks at Saboteur with disgust, but other than that his eyes are darting around in every direction with anger as all the goals he wished to accomplish in WZCW have been accomplished by someone else. He finally stops, and stands in a brief second of serene silence, but abruptly breaks it with a loud, primal scream.

Tree branches shake as birds in nearby trees fly from their branches, and Saboteur is left stunned. Kravinoff looks back at Saboteur with a stern look on his face. He looks down at his feet, almost embarrassed, but back up at Saboteur with a determined look on his face.

Kravinoff nods towards Saboteur…

Kravinoff: Finish your tongue and get some sleep, we’re training in the morning.

Saboteur: Training? Training for what?

Kravinoff quickly walks towards Saboteur and sticks his face in Saboteur’s, looking at the masked hero intensely.

Kravinoff: You know why you were dragged out here Saboteur? Because someone didn’t want you around. There’s a status quo in the WZCW, and guys like you and I threaten it. We’re outsiders, we come from less than reputable backgrounds, we’re not “wrestlers” like Big Dave or Austin Reynolds, or entertainers like Titus and Showtime… we’re warriors, we’re violent, unpredictable, strong willed, and uncontrollable. We can’t be tamed, and guys like Chuck Myles and Vance Bateman don’t want men like us in their company. We threaten them, we threaten their company, and we threaten the entire wrestling industry as a whole. But we deserve to be there just as much as the Sam Smiths and the Blades… if not more so. We paid our dues in blood, and not the kind you get from competing in a Mayhem match.

You try to fit in with your jokes and lighthearted humor. You try to entertain by pairing up with Action Saxton and pandering to the people, but you reject who you really are. You’re like me, Saboteur. We’ve seen this world more times than we care to remember, we’ve seen wars, we’ve seen death. In all his darkness, Ty Burna couldn’t even imagine half of the things you and I have seen. In all his anger Chris K.O. couldn’t dream of some of the terrible things we’ve done. Yet, like a coward, you suppress that. You repress your past in favor of this… comedian you have become. Well I have news for you Saboteur, they’re not laughing with you, they’re laughing at you, and inside you are slowly dying. And as long as you are dying inside, you will NEVER become the wrestler I was destined to be.


Saboteur’s face scowls and his voice deepens as he pushes his face even closer to Kravinoff’s…

Saboteur: What would you know about me, Kravinoff? You’re so wrapped up in your own delusions of what could have been that you couldn’t even be able to begin to get into my head. Yeah, I’ve had it bad, probably worse than anyone in the rest of the company, but unlike you, I’m willing to move on. My darkness does not define me–I define my darkness. It’s a part of me that I’ll never be able to remove, but I control it. I keep it on tap for when I need it, and I’ll use it to accomplish feats previously thought impossible. That’s not going to prevent me from accomplishing what you almost did, Hunter. It’s why I will accomplish what you couldn’t. It’s why I HAVE accomplished what you couldn’t.

Kravinoff: The fans are holding you back Saboteur! As long as you’re worried about what they think of you, you won’t be able to concentrate on your goals!

Saboteur: Don’t you dare project your goals onto me, Kravinoff. You’d think in all your time and all your travels you’d realize that nothing lasts forever, especially power. You wanted to seize power during your time in WZCW, I live to fight it! Where there’s an unbeatable wrestler, I’ll be the one to end his streak. Where there’s a cocky bully, I’ll be the one to knock his teeth in. When a faction of wrestler bands together to threaten the balance of WZCW, I’ll be leading the charge to destroy it! That’s why the fans are behind me: not because I crack a few jokes or make friends with their favorite wrestlers, but because they know when there’s a power-hungry dick, I’ll be the one to kick their asses back to the bottom of the pile! Now if you excuse me, I’m about ready to go home.

Saboteur starts to walk away, but gets no more than 10 feet away from Kravinoff when the legend calls back to him.

Kravinoff: And what do you plan on doing about Myles and Bateman? As soon as you resurface they’ll find another way to dispose of you.

Saboteur turns around and looks sternly at Kravinoff.

Saboteur: Myles and Bateman can try what they will… but as you said, I’m a warrior. I can’t be tamed, and I can’t be controlled. They can send their best men after me, it won’t be enough. Unless they have an army working for them, I’ll be showing up to the show each and every week.

Saboteur turns around again and starts to walk, but again Kravinoff stops him, this time by running over to Saboteur and grabbing his shoulder. Saboteur turns around quickly, expecting a fight, but instead he sees a piece of paper in Kravinoff’s worn, extended hands. Saboteur takes the paper and unfolds it, looking at it with a puzzled look on his face.

Kravinoff: It’s a map of the Pine Barrens. This is where I’ll be. I don’t understand you Saboteur… but I respect you as a brother. We’re of the same blood, and we need to stick together. Come find me next time you need guidance for a match, it is clear that my raw animal magnetism brings out the warrior in you.

Saboteur: Thanks… I will.

Saboteur tucks the map in his suit and looks up at Kravinoff. The two exchange a respectful nod before they part ways. Kravinoff moseys back to his campfire and picks up his deer leg, and Saboteur walks into the woods.

The camera shows Saboteur walking through the woods and finally finding his way towards a highway. He stands on the side of the road for a while before a station wagon pulls over. He gets in the car and they drive off into the night.

It’s early morning when the car pulls up in front of Saboteur’s apartment. He gets out of the car and walks into his building. The camera follows Saboteur as he makes his way up the stairs and gets to his door. He swings the door open and immediately gets tackled by Keith and Shelton. Keith holds Saboteur down as Shelton pulls out a syringe. He attempt to jab it into Saboteur, but Saboteur quickly rolls Keith in the way, and Shelton sticks the syringe right into Keith’s back. Keith wails in pain as Saboteur gets up. Shelton charges at Saboteur and punches him in the face, but Saboteur hits him back, and much harder. Shelton is stunned, and Saboteur follows up with a kick to the stomach, and then another to the head, knocking Shelton out cold. Saboteur grabs both Keith and Shelton by the collars and drags them down the hall to the stairs, and tosses their bodies down the staircase.

Saboteur deliberately walks back to his apartment and walks into the door. Garrett is sitting on the couch, stunned and shell shocked.

Garrett: Are… are they gone?

Saboteur is still quite serious.

Saboteur: They’re at the bottom of the staircase.

Garrett: Who were they?

Saboteur: Keith and Shelton.

Garrett: Ohhhhkay… you don’t seem like yourself Saboteur.

Saboteur cracks his neck and looks at Garrett.

Saboteur: It’s going to be one of those weeks Garrett.

The scene fades to black as Saboteur and Garrett stare at each other.
 
Wednesday, 28 December 2011
All or Nothing Locker Room


Alexander Steele leans against the wall next to the door to the locker room, looking as though he just came from the onsite trainer’s office. He holds a bag of ice to the back of his head and it appears that he’s taking a rest next to the door and not exactly enjoying his time standing there. He finally walks into the locker room and is inside for a while; long enough to change his clothes and gather his gear. Once he steps out of the room he is met by Leon Kensworth.

Perfect, just who I was looking for, Alexander Steele, you made some big claims leading into All or Nothing and you just couldn’t make good on those claims. Your chances of being in the Lethal Lottery match have just dwindled, and your remark about Everest being old appears to have given you a concussion. What’s next for you?

Leon’s rapid firing assault on Alex is unwelcome but Steele figures he owes Leon this interview as he usually tries to avoid him. He groans lightly as he rubs a hand over his face and looks down at Leon.

I’ve said it before Leon; no one wins every match that they’re involved in. I made a few claims, I made some remarks, but it’s not the end Leon. I’m not walking away or anything, what’s next for me, is moving on, continuing on the path to the Heavyweight title, whatever direction that takes me in.

He responds, making it sound like a standard answer, one that he’s rehearsed in case he ran into someone wanting a few words from him.

What were you thinking when you brought a chair into the ring?

I wasn’t thinking, actually, I let my emotions get the best of me. Taking that Consecrated Banishment at the beginning of the match threw me off of my game plan. I wasn’t able to get back on track and I took my frustrations out on Ty Burna with a chair in hand. I regret that I resorted to doing it, but that’s about it. I said that I would do anything to win the match and I meant it, but it had a consequence in that I took a Rock Slide from Everest.

The next time we see you in a WZCW ring, you won’t know who you’re facing until…

Leon’s question is cut off by a phone ringing. Alex reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, raises an eyebrow and answers it. He only manages to get out the greeting when his eyes widen. Suddenly he slides his phone back into his pocket and holds a hand up to Leon to stop him where he is.

But Alex, I have more questions.

Don’t care, I’m about to be a father.

Alex responds quickly as before he takes off running down the corridor. Leon stands there looking shocked at the news as he turns back to the camera.

Well ladies and gentlemen, while it may not have been a victory in the ring for Alexander Steele, he’s certainly got something to look forward to this New Year’s.

The screen fades to black as Leon just looks down the hallway in the direction that Alex ran off.

Saturday, 31 December 2011
Boston, Massachusetts
The Steele Residence


A groan comes from the kitchen before anyone can be seen; soon Alexander Steele walks out with a glass of orange juice. He looks a mess, appearing to have not gotten much sleep. Alex walks over to the couch and is about to sit down when the doorbell rings. He lets out a frustrated sigh, sits his glass down on an end table, and shuffles over to the door. He opens the door and is suddenly refreshed by his surprise as pushing his way into the house is Jason Steele.

I was in town and thought that I’d come see how my son was doing.

Jason speaks before Alex can even get the question out. The younger Steele is still skeptical of what his father is doing there, but willing to give him a chance.

I caught All or Nothing in Japan, too bad you couldn’t put your money where your mouth was boy. It was however hilarious when you took that Consecrated Banishment right at the beginning of the match.

There’s the man I know. What the hell do you really want here, to gloat?

Jason smirks and chuckles as he looks around his son’s house.

Why would I gloat? It’s not like you actually won anything and then lost it. You couldn’t win period. I stopped by to find out just why you’re still trying to give this business what you’ve got. I mean I heard what you had to say about me leading up to All or Nothing. Crying about how horrible of a father I was to you when you wanted to be like me. You’re pathetic Alex.

He then steps toward his son, his demeanor showing that he’s angry with Alex and letting it be known.

I wanted to be proud to be your father, but I’m just ashamed of you boy. I wanted you to do great in Canada, but everything about you just reminds me that you’re nothing but a poor, stupid bastard. Nothing you’ve ever done or could ever do will make me see you in any different of a light.

Alex begins to ball his hands into tight fists; he looks like he’s going to take a swing on his father. Jason notices this and smirks at his son.

Go on boy, take a swing at me. It’ll be the last thing you ever do or did you forget that I used to cage fight?

Oh, I didn’t forget Dad; I think that you’ve forgotten that you sucked at cage fighting. You had to be underground to be worth a damn. I’m not afraid of you old man, I never was nor will I ever be afraid of you. I don’t have the time to waste on you, why don’t you go the fuck back to Japan? Be a big man there, find yourself a new illegitimate child or something and stay away from me, more importantly stay the fuck out of my daughter’s life.

He growls at his father but releases his fists, thinking about being the bigger man here.

Get the fuck out of my house.

Alex finally spouts out after a long silent moment of nothing but staring at his father. He pulls the door open and waits for Jason to walk out of the house. Jason finally leaves and Alex slams the door out of anger, something he soon regrets as the noise of the slam is replaced by the wails of his new daughter. The scene fades to black as Alex starts up the stairs to take care of his baby girl.
 
*A wet rainy day greets us as the scene opens in a large wooded area of a park. It's very windy given by the evidence of the tree branches swaying aggressively and the occasional bit of litter flying past the screen. A figure is running rapidly towards the camera. As the figure gets closer we notice that it's Chris Beckford who is absolutely soaked. It's difficult to establish what Chris is wearing due to how wet his clothes are. Beckford runs past the camera as it swizzles around and watches him running off into the distance. The scene switches to the exit to the park and we see Beckford rapidly approaching before coming to a stop on the path just outside the park. He gathers his breath and begins walking towards another person stood on the opposite side of the road. This person is nowhere near as wet as Chris but we cannot see his face due to the umbrella he his holding. Beckford and the man walk into a near by cafe as the camera follows them in, they sit down and order a drink.*

Beckford: So how did I do Ry?

Ryan: You did ok, faster than yesterday but I think you could go faster than you did today.

Beckford: Thanks for the confidence. You know it's good to have you out here Ryan, I know I haven't been back to the UK much since my injury but it's just been so intense here that I haven't been able to get some extended time away.

Ryan: It's not an issue man, I know you're busy and I have a life myself too you know. Just because Mum's not with us anymore it doesn't mean you have to be around more than you are.

Beckford:
It's just I want to make sure you're ok, lets face it, you're the last part of family I have left. But I will try to get home a lot more, it's just with Lethal Lottery around the corner and then the road to Kingdom Come it's the most exciting time of the year, and I hope to be a big part of the events.

*An attractive waitress brings over two coffees, she recognizes Chris and smiles before walking to the back.*

Ryan: I think she likes you.

Beckford: I think she just recognized me. It's not too big of a deal though. How long you in town?

Ryan: I'll be here for another week yet, hoping to catch the shows this weekend. Which show you going to be on?

Beckford: I haven't a clue mate, this week is all random. I could be on Meltdown or Ascension or Aftershock, maybe even all three shows. I won't know till the night.

Ryan:
Do you know your opponent?

Beckford: Nope, I wasn't joking when I said it's ALL random. I could get anybody. Paradyse, Runn, Holmes, Barbosa... God I hope it's not Blade, Hammond or Black Dragon.

Ryan: Still having issues with them? Been going on a while hasn't it?

Beckford: Yeah Dragons EurAsian Champion, and while I'm disappointed that I didn't win it back last week, I'm kind of hoping I don't cross paths with these guys for a while now. Don't get me wrong I still owe Blade for what he did to me, but I think it's best for me to concentrate on other matters now. With Lottery coming up very soon I want to focus on qualifying for that and ideally winning that and going on to the Kingdom Come main event. That's why I've upped my training, getting into better shape which will hopefully make me a better wrestler. You know this is now my third year here in WZCW. It doesn't sound a lot, but there aren’t many people who've been here as long as or longer than me. It's time now for me to push on and make a legitimate claim to the main event.

Ryan: I imagine everyone else will be doing the same though, I mean why is it so important that you push on now? Don't you still love what you do? That's all that matters right?

Beckford: Of course it is, but when you’re sat backstage and see people passing you by, it makes your mind wonder. I mean what do they have that I don't? I guess during my time here I've perhaps become a little jealous of some of the guys. Other people are taking their chances and I'm not and now I think it's time I made sure I take the chances that come my way. This week can be a step in the right direction for me. I could get a shot at the World Heavyweight Champion Titus, or I could get put in a match against former champion Ty Burna which I think would make me realize how far I've come and how far I've got to go to be at their level. Knowing my luck though I'll probably get put in a tag match with Blade as my partner, and he'll screw me over again and the circle will start again. I don't know I guess I'm just annoyed that I haven't moved anywhere since last year when I defended the EurAsian Championship in a match and yet in my last match I was still fighting for the EurAsian Championship.

Ryan:
Well I think the pinnacle of your career was winning that Championship. Mum was so proud of you when you won but you know she always hated your profession, she was always worried you were going to seriously injure yourself. Lucky that happened after she passed wasn't it? She’d have freaked. My point is what did you have at that point that you don't have now?

Beckford:
I think Sam had gone on to other things at that point. Sam really set me up to win the belt, gave me confidence I didn't know I had, I guess I wanted to win it for him and all he had done for me.

Ryan:
Well I think it's plainly obvious what you need to do to get to that level you're wanting. You'll need guidance and confidence not to mention keep training harder than ever. You need to get Sam back...

* The Scene Fades*
 
Dr. Alhazred is sitting in a small coffee shop, sipping from a large cup of coffee and reading an old Johnny The Homicidal Maniac comic. There are six cups of coffee on the table he’s sitting at, each one seems to be He’s wearing a black t-shirt with Ty Burna on it, beneath Burna’s picture are the words “Ty is My Homeboy”. The Power Glove is glowingly sitting upon his red corduroy pants underneath the table. A young girl with black hair, a soft face and thick black glasses walks up to the Alhazred with a pitcher of coffee; in a toneless voice she asks:

Coffee Girl: Refill your cup sir? You’ve seem quite parched, which would make sense considering you’ve had 6 cups of coffee already.

Dr. Alhazred holds out his cup while continuing to read his comic.

Dr. Alhazred: Don’t sleep much these days, so I need all the coffee I can get.

Coffee Girl: Awesome story.


She refills his cup. Before walking away she looks at the comic he’s reading.

Coffee Girl: You’re reading Johnny the Homicidal Maniac? I love those comics. Have you read Squee yet?


Dr. Alhazred still not looking up from his comic: Yes.

He goes to grab the cup of coffee with his Power Glove hand but knocks over the cup. It smashes on the floor and the coffee gets all over the waitress’ dress. Everyone in the room gasps and stares at the scene, the waitress stares down at her dress. A man from behind the counter comes over with some paper towels to clean it up. Dr. Alhazred continues to read. As the mess is nearly cleaned up a small man in suit and tie walks in the shop with a camera man. It’s Leon Kensworth. He looks at the situation and shakes his head.

Kensworth: I knew I shouldn’t have asked for an interview. I haven’t even talked to him yet and already there’s a mess around him.


Kensworth stands in front of Dr. Alhazred and holds out his hand for a handshake
.

Kensworth: How are you Dr. Alhazred?

Without looking up; Dr. Alhazred: Are we forgetting something Mr. Kittensworth?

Kensworth: It’s been a long time and a lot has happened since then, I thought you’ve gone past such childish behavior.

Dr. Alhazred: You thought wrong, now if you don’t say the words you can just turn right around and let me finish my coffees in peace.

Kensworth: Dr. Alhazred the smartest man in the universe, how are you?

Dr. Alhazred: Was that so hard now? And not too good Leon, not too good.

Leon takes sits in the chair across from the maniacal Dr. The waitress from before brings over another large cup of coffee for Dr. Alhazred, her dress has giant stain on it now.


Coffee Girl: Would you like anything sir?

Leon Kensworth: No thank you.

She begins to walk away…

Dr. Alhazred: Excuse me miss.

Coffee Girl: Yes? How may I help the smartest man in the universe?


Dr. Alhazred: What happened to my usual cup?


She points to the ground but Dr. Alhazred is still reading his comic.

Dr. Alhazred: I said what happened to my usual cup?

Coffee Girl: You knocked it over with that thing on your hand and it broke.

Dr. Alhazred: What am I supposed to do now?

Coffee Girl: Drink from that cup maybe?

Dr. Alhazred: I can’t do that, it’s not my usual cup.

Coffee Girl: So?

Dr. Alhazred: Sooo…every day I come in here and drink from that cup. Everyone that works here knows that.

Coffee Girl: I don’t see the problem sir, just drink from that cup.


Dr. Alhazred: But that’s not my cup. Since I come in here everyday for several hours at a time and drink from the same cup every time, that lowers the chances of anyone else using that cup and thus lowering the chances of me getting sick from any bacteria that someone who used the cup, besides myself, may have been carrying.

Coffee Girl: There’s nothing that can be done to change the situation sir. Your cup is now in a million pieces lying in a trash can.


Dr. Alhazred: So what do you suggest I do then?


Coffee Girl: Start the cycle over with this new cup.

Dr. Alhazred: Ok but not this one, it’s yellow, I don’t like yellow. Do you have any green cups?

Coffee Girl: Let me check…No.


Dr. Alhazred: Oh well, guess I’ll have to suffer.

Coffee Girl: You’re not the only one.


She walks away and Leon Kensworth looks up from his iPhone and quickly puts it away.


Kensworth: So Dr. Alhazred…


Dr. Alhazred coughs suggestively.

Kensworth: Dr. Alhazred the smartest man in the universe; let’s skip the pleasantries and get right down to the questions everyone wants to hear. The Apostles of Chaos have caused their fair share of mayhem as of late and appear to be a well oiled machine driven by Ty Burna, why hasn’t this turned into wins for your team and yourself? Since you’re return you have not won a match.

Dr. Alhazred: The answer is simple Kittensworth; Wins and losses are meaningless in the grand scheme of things. The goals and mission of the Apostles of Chaos are beyond such trivial things as championships and records.

Kensworth: What are your goals?

Dr. Alhazred: I would think by now that it would be quite clear. But since your question suggests the opposite, I’ll pose a series of questions in response. First one: Which team won the match at All or Nothing?

Kensworth: Saboteur, Kurtesy and Action Saxton.


Dr. Alhazred: Who was lying unconscious on the mat with the Apostles of Chaos standing proudly over them, celebrating their destruction?

Kensworth: Saboteur, Kurtesy and Action Saxton.


Dr. Alhazred: Now, what made the bigger impact overall; those fools winning the match or the Apostles of Chaos decimating them after the match?


Kensworth: That’s difficult to answer but I guess the Apostles of Chaos’ decimation.

Dr. Alhazred: You’re smarter than you look Kittensworth. Even in defeat, we showed our dominance. Even in defeat, our opponents came out of the match worse than us. Even in defeat, chaos reigns. In the end our failures become our gains. We learn from our mistakes and not only learn from them, but smash them in the face. Every time we step foot in that arena and the cameras turn on, Mr. Burna expects nothing less than complete confusion and chaos by the time those same cameras go off. I’ll admit, at first, the idea of following Ty made me a little worried. The guy creeped me out a bit. But day by day the more I think about what he is doing for me, Christopher and James, the more I begin to like what I am doing. I gotta tell you Leon, there may be no better feeling this world than standing over the lifeless body of a man you and your friends have just utterly destroyed. The rush you get when you slam them on the mat, onto steps, through tables is unmatched. I thought I was sadistic and crazy before, but I was completely wrong. I’m getting worse and worse as the days go by. And I like it. I like it Kittensworth. I wake up every morning and wonder to myself, what the hell will I do today? What kind of mayhem will happen today before I lay my head down to sleep?

Kensworth: Funny you should mention mayhem; the next shows will be Ascension Anarchy, Meltdown Mayhem and After Shock Insanity. Are you worried about heading into these shows not knowing who your opponent or opponents will be and what circumstances will surround your match?


Dr. Alhazred: Silly Kittensworth, have you not just heard everything I have just said? Mayhem is now my natural environment. Every member of the roster from Titus to Darrren Bull are shaking in their boots wondering what they will be facing. I have no doubts that Sam Smith and Everest are training their bodies and techniques to what they consider perfection in the hopes that it may give them some edge. Holmes and Constantine are probably sitting in their offices planning out every situation in their head just so they can feel like they are ready for whatever they will be facing. But what am I doing right now, Mr. Kittensworth?

Kensworth: Drinking coffee and reading comic books.

Dr. Alhazred: Exactly. I am not the least bit worried for I will be in my element and I know deep down in the pit of my darkening heart that no matter who or what is standing across from me in that ring, I will fucking murder them. My skills of destruction grow better every day, through tireless work I have improved my Power Glove to be at it’s peak of power, and now I have the Ouija providing the energy for all of this. I am not the least bit worried because I am the best I have ever been. I am not the least bit worried because I am the most dangerous I have ever been. I am not the least bit worried, because chaos reigns. And what do I thrive in Mr. Kittensworth?


Kensworth: You said mayhem before but I guess chaos.


Dr. Alhazred: Come Meltdown, Ascension or After Shock the roulette can spin and land on anything. Titus may face Jack O’ Lantern in a pumpkin on a pole match for the World Title or Black Dragon may defend his Eurasian title in a 4 way Bra and Panties match. Only one thing is for certain, when my music hits and I walk through the curtains and down the ramp: All hell will break loose.


Kensworth: Thank you Dr. Alhazred the smartest man in the universe for your time and for actually giving a pretty normal interview by your standards.

Kensworth gets up to leave. As soon as he begins to walk away, Dr. Alhazred puts down his comic and stands up himself. Kensworth turns around and looks nervously at Alhazred.

Kensworth: It’s not over is it?

Dr. Alhazred shakes his head, picks up his coffee mug and throws it the man standing behind the counter. He dodges it and it shatters on the wall behind him. Dr. Alhazred tips over the table in front of him and begins grabbing wooden empty chairs and smashing them onto the turned over table and throwing the pieces about. He goes to other people’s tables and grabs their plates and cups and tosses them all around the shop. A man behind the counter yells “Someone call the police”. Leon is crouched beneath a table with his camera man and several other customers.

Dr. Ahazred reaches into his pocket and begins to fumble around.

Random guy: HE’S GETTING A WEAPON!!!

Dr. Alhazred pulls out something but conceals it in his Power Glove. He walks up and behind the counter to the Coffe Girl. A look of pure terror covers her face as he grabs her arm. She turns away as she doesn’t want to see what horrors he is going to do to her. Dr. Alhazred reveals the object to be a sharpie. He writes his phone number on her arm, kisses her hand and winks at her. He struts over to the camera, shrugs and says:


Dr. Alhazred: Chaos reigns.


He smashes the camera on the ground as the scene scatters to black.
 
The scene is a beautiful in home theatre room. The place is decked out, huge screen over a stage, surround sound and theatre style seating. One wall is covered with a bar and popcorn machine. It is easily one of the most expensive rooms in what is obviously a lavish mansion. A Silhouette of a man is seated mid row of the room. As the camera moves closer we can tell the person is very well built and he has a remote control in one hand but does nothing to acknowledge the camera. Without even looking toward the camera he begins to speak, quickly we realize that the voice we hear is that of WZCW’s own Everest!

EVEREST: Glad you could make it. I’m not going to waste your time here, so let’s get to the point. This week is the one off and “beloved” Lethal Lottery warm up round. Otherwise known as Meltdown Madness or Ascension Anarchy, and I can’t forget the loveable Aftershock Insanity. For those keeping score at home this week is the all random pure craziness anything goes week of WZCW. All in the interest of warming us all up for the most intriguing pay per view of the year: Lethal Lottery.

Normally before Meltdown or Ascension I’d be happy to fill the masses ears with sound bytes about how Everest was going to lay the pain on some poor schmuck but this week it seems that is going to be difficult to do considering the circumstances.

So, I’ll speak on two things and I’m going to speak on them quickly and to the point.

One, let’s go back to All or Nothing. I took my shot at 5 of the best this business has to offer for the coveted final spot in our Lethal Lottery. Now since rehashing something that I’m pretty sure Baller is going to show at least 208 times at the next show seem useless and a waste of time but the fact is I may not have come out of that match the winner, but I also wasn’t the over the hill weak link they all seemed to be expecting. Despite my continuous efforts to the contrary, the people still think I’m washed up and honestly it’s time I let them think what they want but at All or Nothing I proved to anyone watching that I wasn’t to be taken lightly and Ty found out that I can still dish out a beating. Matt Tastic and Brad Bomb and Alexander Steele realized that I’m still as good as it gets and even though I couldn’t stop Baller from defeating Tastic I also cemented my spot in the Lottery whether it be 2 or 29 and I’m ready to take back my company. No more Apostles, no more lights out, lights on beat downs.

Anyway, I’m veering off course here, I promised two points so here’s number two:

People say the future of this company is in place, that kids like Tastic and Bomb, or that Holmes or Sam Smith or Constantine are readying themselves to bring the company forward. Well I’m here to tell you that starting this week with whoever is unfortunate enough to have to step into the ring with me, they are going to find out that the future still comes after the present and all those kids who think they are the future they are going to realize that I’m still the present and current and I’m ready to prove it again. Don’t get me wrong I’ve seen how these random things go down, usually resulting in some odd form of tag team match or handicap match not benefiting yours truly but this year it really doesn’t matter.

Bring on Big Dave, Barbosa, hell Titus or Chris Beckford would be just as welcome I don’t care but at Meltdown I’m starting the New Year off right and victorious.

So to whoever might be standing in the ring across from me in the coming days, come prepared because it’s going to be one hell of a day at the office.

Now if you’ll excuse me I’ve got some entertainment to get back too.


With that Everest hit’s a button on the remote and the screen instantly fades to black.
 
"Transformation literally means going beyond your form."

-Wayne Dyer​


The scene opens up to a shot of a living room that is nestled inside the Apostle’s parsonage. James King is sitting on burgundy colored sofa with his head resting on the fist of his 90° bent arm. His eyes appear tired as he watches a distant television screen. The sound of paper crinkling is heard and the camera pans over to a focused Dr. Alhazred in an antique recliner. His soul is consumed by a newspaper that is gripped between his fingers.

*Ring ring ring*

A telephone, next to James, jiggles on its mantle. James glances over at the telephone and nonchalantly brings it to his ear.

Hello?

No, we haven’t seen him since All or Nothing.

He said he was out on business.

Alright.

Alright, bye.


James places the telephone back on the mantle and then resumes his monotonous routine.

The scene cuts to a shot of a hotel clerk behind her desk.

Alright. Your room is 307 and it is on the third floor. Feel free to phone the office if you need anything.

She closes the conversation with a mandatory smile and then we transition to a shot of a door opening. A figure stands in the doorway and reaches for the light switch.

*Flick*

The lights go on and Chris K.O. slowly steps into the room. He sets his bag down and examines the small space. A glance at the bed has him wondering what disgusting secrets it holds. He violates the smoky walls and floors with his eyes and takes notice of a mauve curtain that is covering the solitary window in the room.

Chris extends his arm out and runs his fingers along the top of a cheap wooden desk that is against the wall. They glide peacefully on top of the dusty wood. His fingers finally meet the edge as Chris pulls away from the desk and steps toward the lone window. He brushes the curtains to the side and looks out from the third floor. He slowly raises his hand to the window and feels the cold glass.

*Knock knock knock*

Chris glances behind his shoulder and sees Ian Crawford in the door frame. Chris turns back to the window.

I figured Ty would eventually send you to look for me.

Ian steps into the room and closes the door behind him. He shoves his hands into his pockets as he looks around the room.

Do you know?

Know about what?

Chris turns towards Ian and shares a silent stare. He slowly makes his way to his bag and pulls out a box with a lock on it. He places the box softly on the hotel bed. Ian steps forward and curiously examines the box. He shoots Chris a confused look. Chris responds by pulling a key out of his pocket. He proceeds to unlock the box and open it.

Ian steps back.

How? What does this mean?

Inside the box, the Ouija scroll is placed upon a cushioned base.

Ty has prophesied that I will become his heir. He says that I will become even more powerful than him. The Ouija scroll calls for it.

Why has he not told anyone else this?

I don’t question his reasoning, Ian. If you were smart, you wouldn’t either.

Ian is taken back by Chris’ unusual hostile comment towards him. The box slams shut, via Chris’ hand. He locks it and places the key back inside his pocket. Chris slowly walks back to the window as Ian stares at him.

Why are you here Chris? You have a huge house to live in and yet you are roaming around from hotel to hotel? Is it James? Is it Alhazred? Is it because you lost?

Chris presses his fingertips back to the cold glass as he smiles weakly.

You don’t really appreciate this until you lose it Ian.

Chris lowers his eye lids as he recalls his own memories.

I would sit in hotel rooms and spend hours dissecting tapes and plotting strategies. Nothing but me and a cigarette. Back then, I thought a cigarette was all that I needed. I was a fool. A stupid kid with a crazy idea.

Chris leans his head forward and joins his finger tips by pressing his head against the cold glass.

I’ve been enlisted into Chaos for a good while now. It has been revealed to me that I will exceed all that Ty will do… Ty has done so much. So, can this really be true…

Why am I here? The next set of shows are chaotic. There is uncertainty in what will happen. In the times where you can’t build a strategy off an opponent; you must build a strategy off of your self. Sometimes, that takes going back to your basics. Sometimes, it takes going back to a cheap hotel room...

Chris lets his fingers fall from the glass.

Why am I here? I guess… because I know that times like these are nearly gone. My future is set and I must cut ties with things like this.

Ian pushes his glasses up on his nose and reaches inside of his coat pocket.

Look. Awhile back you asked me to intercept all of your messages and filter out any of those that were connected to your old alias, Samuel Jonathon Masters.

Chris’ eyes shoot open at the sound of that name.

However, I’ve intercepted some rather interesting messages from a certain person. Ty wouldn’t approve of this, but I feel like you should know.

He pulls out an envelope from his jacket and holds it out.

Everything that I thought you needed to see is inside this envelope.

Chris looks at the envelope and burns a hole through it with his eyes.

I think you should leave Ian. I won’t tell Ty of your discrepancy. Just leave.

Chris turns back to the window and Ian is shocked at Chris’ response.

Very well then.

Ian begins to exit the room, but stops at the doorway. Chris quietly watches him in the window reflection. Ian, unaware of Chris’ sight, sets the envelope down on the desk and proceeds to exit the room. Chris stares out the window for a moment and then grits his teeth in anger. A room, that only moments ago, he found peace in, had now become something that he loathed.

He raises his hands up to the glass and begins to push on the window in anger.

Damn it!

With a swooping sound, Chris pulls back and slams his fist into the window, causing it to shatter into the open air. Chris pulls back his arm and clinches his bloodied hand. He quickly rushes into the bathroom and begins to run water over it; the blood and water become one as they escape down the drain pipe. The look of pain ensnares Chris’ face as he breathes heavily. He begins to swallow his own pain with each inhaling breath. A cold sweat has overcome his body, and the sight of his own blood disturbs him. He slowly looks up at the mirror above the sink. Half of his face is that of Ty Burna, with one eye glowing red. The scene goes black.
 
I heard about some gun shot's close to the old 'hood, brother. 36 fired, 13 hits, 1 death. All over coke. And on Christmas Eve, no less. Harsh shit there, dude.


*Voices can be heard chatting. But all that can be seen is a small diner at night with one light on. Two people's figures can be seen sitting under the one light.*

People today have no shame and would probably cut off their organs if it meant money and power.

*Glimpses of the inside are shown. The place is practically empty san's the two men. All dishes washed, stoves polished, floor cleaned, as we see the kitchen.*

The worst part about that issue is the police and how they handled the victim who survived. I mean really,bro. "Would you like revenge"? What kind of question is that? Cop's should do their jobs and prevent that stuff rather than keeping the cycle of hate going with dumb ideas like that.

*As the two continue talking, we see a lone lamp shining. Despite the low voltage it illuminates over the two well enough it seems.*

It can't be helped, really. If they tried any harder, they'd turn the streets into a war-zone. It's sadly a problem that can't be solved. Just postponed.

*Sad but true words in the eyes of the speaker. Who we can see sitting on a table by a window. Matt Tastic. He holds 3 cards on his hand. It's kinda obvious now, but he's playing cards. He places one on the table. 12 of Cups. It's a game of "Briscas".*

Si, mano.

*His opponent lays down the 3 of Swords.*

Cabron.

*We get a shot of the deck. The 7 of Swords stands out. As per game rules, it kills. Therefor Matt loses the hand. His opponent takes the two cards played and draws one from the deck and them Matt follows suit.*

Changing gears for a bit, Jose Juan Barrea is with the Minnesota Timberwolves now. I don't think that was a good move.

*Silence strikes as Matt's opponent waits for a response.*

........

Matt?

Please brother, let's not talk about basketball.


*Matt's opponent throws the 6 of Clubs and Matt throws the Ace Of Clubs. Winning the hand by raising points.*

What happened?

I lost to Baller, Vancel. I got pinned by him. Not cool at all, dude.

And?

That means I have to start the upcoming gauntlet title contenders match from the very beginning, man.


*Returning to whats going on in the game, the two grab the last two cards on the deck. Vancel grabs the facedown one and Matt get's the 7 of Swords.*

So? What difference does it make?

Possibly 30 men. I'd have to beat all of them.

It's not impossible.

Are you joking me, dude? It's never been close to done!


*As they argue, the card game ends. Both men begin counting their points before looking at each other.*

Guess what. You won. You're #1 in cards too. You gonna mope about that too?

It's not the same...

It isn't? You mean, if you were to win that match, you wouldn't be the best? Mean's more than taking the easy road and coming out at the last minute if you ask me.


*Vancel stands up and puts his deck of cards on the table. But Matt just losers his head in despair.*


A bunch of thugs decided to be cheap and attacked a guy at the easiest chance they could get. In doing so, people were injured including friends of ours. They were cowards and took the easy way to solve their problems. But the easy way isn't something you can afford nowadays. Especially after that match. But that's a good thing. It's your chance. Tell me. What have you done of note in 2011?

I beat Titus once. And Gordito.

...And?

That's it.

That's it? Meanwhile the world passes you by. You were a hit in 2010. But you never followed up in 2011. Now you are at your lowest heading into 2012. I say you can work your way up. No easy route for you this time. I believe in you.

See, that's the funny thing, man.


*Vancel's eyes open wide with excitement as he sits back down quickly on the table.*

You believe in me, the fan's might believe in me, Alisha certainly believes in me, but we believe a witch get's married when it's raining and sunny at the same time. What good does you believing in me do?

Dammit man, don't complicate things. Have faith. In time, you'll reap what you sow.

That might explain why I lost to Baller and ended up in this nasty jam.

Maybe. But then again, you decide if that's a bad thing or not. You may have little chances to win, but who's to say someone won't manage to toss out Baller? No one has ever won from the last spot either. Only the 13th spot and 8th spot twice produced winners. You have as much a chance as anyone.

I still don't buy it. I'll be dead exhausted by the time I reach the end.

That's just your 2011 talking.

My what?! Brother, what the hell are you yapping about?!

Your old self. Your new self does not care because he's a winner.

But my new self hasn't even debuted yet. How can you tell?

Judgement. Past actions don't matter. If they did, Baller would still be a joke and you'd be a Mayhem Phenom. Wait, you STILL are. You're going into the unknown this week, but I know you'll do fine.

How so?

Because you're #1.


*Matt and Vancel get up from the table and loo at each other for a bit. Matt takes the deck of cards and puts it in his pocket. His eyes show that despite oddness of Vancel's words, they are deep.*

Riveting stuff there Brando. But you might want to come up with more logical reasons as to how being the #1 entrant in Lethal Lottery is a good thing. If you don't mind, I'll go figure that out elsewhere.

*Matt begins walking out with his arms tucked in his pockets. But he stops for a bit.*

When the hell did you start watching wrestling, anyway?

I didn't wanna look like a fool on camera.


*Matt glares directly ahead.*

Right. See ya then.

Were are you going?

To see who is the unlucky sucker I'll be delivering kickassery to at this weeks roulette shows. On yonder.

On yonder. And good luck, too. You'll need it.

I can't hit people with luck. It's not a solid object.

Ugh...

 
All or Nothing has just gone off the air and Mr. Baller and his brother Ian are now leaving the arena to head to their team hotel. Baller is coming off the biggest win of his career as he has now secured the lucrative number 20 spot in the upcoming Lethal Lottery match. Baller is ecstatic at this, however, has an annoyed look on his face as his brother continue to tug on his letterman’s jacket.

Baller: Come on! Stop hanging on to me and let’s get out of here.

Ian: Sorry big bro, I am just so happy for you.

Baller: I am happy for myself, however, you are ruining this moment for me.

Ian: But what did I do?

Baller: Just being here. This is my special moment and I can’t even go out and celebrate. I have to rush out of here before anybody sees me with you, and spend the night in the hotel watching over you.

Ian: I just wanted to support you big bro. I have never been to any of your matches before, and this was the biggest one you’ve ever had.

Baller: Which is why I didn’t want you here? I couldn’t even prepare for this match, because I was dealing with you. I won off my sheer greatness; I won despite of you not because of you.

Ian begins to show signs of disappointment in Baller’s attitude toward him. He then gets an angry look on his face, as Baller continues to drag him along as fast as he possibly can.

Ian: No, you won because of Vance Bateman, not because of anything you did.

Baller: What in the world are you talking about? Did you even watch the match? I mean I knew you were stupid, but you had front row seats. There is no way you didn’t see me land the Buzzer Beater on that clown Matt Tastic.

Ian: I think you got hit in the head too hard, if you don’t know what I am talking about. Ty had the match won, but the ref stopped counting and then Bateman came out to distract Ty and got him to leave the ring. Then you came in and won.

Baller: Are you kidding? Bateman didn’t do anything to help me win that match. It was all Ty’s fault that he is an idiot. Everybody knows Bateman has it in for me; he would never help me out…

As Baller continues to rant about Bateman, he appears from the hallway and is about 5 paces behind Baller and his brother. He was listening to the conversation, and as he heard Baller’s last remarks, he decides to intervene.

Bateman: Is that so Baller?

Baller is stunned to see Bateman behind him, however, he keeps his cocky composure.

Baller: Yeah it is true Bateman. Why would you help me anyway?

Bateman: Don’t worry about my personal agenda Baller, but you are right, I wasn’t going out of my way to help you win. Anyway on a different note, are you going to introduce me to your little friend here?

Baller: He’s not my friend. He’s my brother.

Bateman: So what’s your name there little guy?

Ian: My name is Ian, sir.

Bateman looks bewildered at Ian’s response.

Bateman: Sir? Who taught you those manners, because it surely wasn’t your big brother?


Ian: My mother did. My brother hasn’t taught me much because he’s never home and never lets me come watch him wrestle. Tonight was the first time.

Bateman: Well that sounds like your brother to me.

Baller: Well yeah, I don’t need any more distractions. I already got to worry about management costing me opportunities, don’t need him annoying me too.

Bateman: I thought this whole conspiracy thing was over already. If I were you I would get over it.

Baller: And why is that, sir?

Baller says sarcastically

Bateman: Well considering the fact that the Meltdown Madness, Ascension Anarchy and Aftershock Anonymous are all this week, you can lose that number 20 spot you own. Especially considering I am the one who is spinning that little roulette wheel, if you keep pissing me off, I may have a little influence on where that wheel spins.

Baller then stares down Bateman, and before he loses his composure, he takes a deep breath.

Baller: Ian, go buy a soda at the vending machine over there.

Ian: But I’m not thirsty.

Baller then gives an angry stare at his brother.

Baller: IAN! Go get a soda, NOW!

Ian: But I don’t have any money.

Baller quickly goes into his pockets and gives Ian a 5-dollar bill.

Ian: But the machine doesn’t give change.

Baller: I don’t care just go buy a soda. Also, take your time. Come back in 5 minutes, not any sooner, not any later. Got it?

Ian: Yes brother.

Ian slowly walks away with his head down, as now Baller turns his attention to Bateman.

Baller: You see Bateman, I knew you we’re going to try and screw me out of this. I knew when I saw you up there, you we’re pleased Ty lost, but there was a sign of anger on your face that I had my hand raised in victory. I was too good for your stupid plan, and I am also too intelligent for you to take away what is rightfully mine.

Bateman: And how do you plan to do that?

Baller then opens up one of his duffle bags, and he takes out a small booklet. As Baller lifts up to show Bateman, you can clearly see that it is the WZCW Rule Book.


Baller: Page 34, Article Seven, Clause Five: The Roulette Stipulation Clause.

Baller then goes into his duffle bag one more time, and pulls out his glasses. He then opens up his book and begins to read to Bateman.

Baller: The roulette wheel for Meltdown Madness, Ascension Anarchy, and Aftershock Anonymous, can put any superstar against other superstar whether friend or foe, in any type of match, on any of the three brands, however, there are only three things that are on the line during this week of shows:

A. Any Championship in WZCW that is not already in a pre determined match.
B. Number One Cotender for any championship in WZCW
C. Lethal Lottery Qualifier

As you can see Vance, there is nothing about the #20 spot being available for grabs according to the rulebook. And of course you know the time period for any new rule being added to the rulebook, 6 weeks. Thus, the #20 spot cannot be up for grabs under any circumstance from the roulette wheel.


Bateman: Well I am glad you’ve done your homework Baller. I am sure based on your homework you know that nobody has won the Lottery entering at number 20. What makes you think that you will be the first?

Baller: Well considering I am the only person who knows their spot in the match besides that loser Matt Tastic. Unlike in previous years it gives me a huge advantage and I am also the best talent to ever enter the Lottery at the 20 spot, and it will be like LeBron James sitting out the first 46 minutes of a game and then just coming in for the last two minutes when everybody is tired. This match is mine for the taking.

Just like it will be for me this week. It doesn’t matter who that roulette wheel lands on for me, I have nothing to lose and everything for gain. Heck I could use some gold to add to my collection before I get the WZCW World Championship. I could always use two belts. If not, I could always use a good tune up match before the Lottery. You see when it comes to these type of matches everybody is worried of who they will face, what type of match they will be in, just to get some practice for the Lottery. I don’t need any practice for the Lottery, I know my spot, and I don’t need to be worried about this week. Whatever happens, happens., as no matter the result of this week even though we both know I will win, I will still have that number 20 spot come Lethal Lottery.

That type of advantage for this week and come Lottery time is enormous. I can’t wait to see what type of luck I draw this week, as this is my only opportunity at random draw since my greatness earned me that last spot. Whether I become a champion, or just kick some loser’s ass, it doesn’t matter because the inevitable is coming. Your worst nightmare Bateman, Mr. Baller being the NEW WORLD HEAVY CHAMPIONSHIP, oh and also it will be at the biggest stage of them all, Kingdom Come!

And You Better Believe That, Bateman!


As Baller finishes his rant at Bateman, Ian come back with his coke.

Baller: Come on Ian, let’s get out of here.

As Baller and Ian begin to walk away, Bateman begins to look like he is going to throw up at the fact of Baller being World Heavyweight Champion.
 
Sascha watches anxiously while Alex stands before the press, half a dozen microphones on the plinth in front of him. She had been dreading the press conference, Alex wasn't ready for this. Confident as he arrogant he's likely to bruise egos that she'd be forced to soothe. But he knew that when he agreed to address the end of Mind Over Matter and the shocking departure of his former partner Hiraku Susumu at the post-All or Nothing press conference. He just didn't care.

"Defeat is an experience I have tried to avoid wherever I can." He speaks clearly and calmly into the microphones, ignoring the sounds of the hacks in the crowd. "But, like all men it is one I must encounter and learn from. In recent weeks I have been defeated more often than I would like. But adversity and defeat are vital learning experiences and now with Hiraku's departure, and subsequently the end of Mind Over Matter I must learn from these defeats alone." He stops and looks behind him towards the General Managers before returning to the microphones. "I neither know nor care about Hiraku's departure beyond that it happened. This is the last you'll hear of it from me." His tone clearly indicating that any questions about Susumu would be soundly ignored. "My focus now is the next set of shows, the Roulette Shows as they are known. It is difficult to prepare physically for these events, but the advantage in unexpected situations lies with the keenest of minds and nobody in WZCW has a keener mind than I. Are there any questions from the audience?" He points to a man in the front row holding a Dictaphone.

He stands and addresses Stark "Hi, Paris Troy: Chicago Shopper – Do you have a theory about what Hiraku is planning to do now?"

Sascha rubs the bridge of her nose, this wouldn't end well. Newspapers rarely take abuse of their reporters lying down. "That is an idiotic question. Were you not listening to me when I denied knowledge and interest in Susumu's affairs? I would not develop a theory without evidence or interest on the subject. Now sit down and do not open your mouth in my presence again, you inbred halfwit. Next!" The reporter sits down and immediately starts writing. More questions are asked and met with terse responses until; tired of dealing with jumped up humanities graduates with tape recorders He declines further questioning. As Bateman takes his place at the podium Stark walks backstage. Excusing herself Sascha immediately heads here herself. She needs to have words with Alex.

She bursts through the door do the corridor Alexander Stark is walking down. "Alex!" she yells at the Englishman.

"Ah Sascha I was wondering when you would come to complain about the extra publicity I just created."

"Extra publicity!? Alex you insulted half of the journalists in the building. That is not the way to draw attention to yourself!"

"Sascha if I had toed the line like you are suggesting I should have I would have gotten a passing mention in one or two local newspapers. However, those insults will be spread far and wide by the assaulted parties."

"You think that matters? Alex, you slandered everybody who asked you a question. You think anything good will come of that? You're going to get sued."

"I didn't slander anyone. Take young Paris. His parents are second cousins. He is inbred. His question sufficiently demonstrated his low mental capacity. Everything that you think was slander would never stand up in court." He looks her straight in the eyes "Sascha, you know I do not value the opinion of the general public or journalists. But after my last two losses publicity is what I do need. As it stands now I am at risk of dropping off the map entirely and that is not acceptable. If I am appearing in news reports and viral videos then I am more valuable than I would be if I followed your sound advice on dealing with the media."

"That's not..." she sighs.”Fine, you might be right Alex. You usually are. But if this comes back to bite you, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Thank you Sascha" Stark says and then slumps against a wall and slides to the ground.

"You're welcome." She joins him on the floor. "I've never seen you like this Alex. Is everything..."

"I will be fine, Sascha. The last few weeks have been a trying time. But now that I am free of that Japanese buffoon I can finally focus on taking my career to the next level." Mentally shaking himself off, Stark rises and extends a hand to the pretty blonde woman. "The next set of shows are my chance to prove my superiority. At these shows, nobody knows what they are in for. The advantage lies with whoever can adapt fastest and best to the unexpected. That will be me. I can not... I will not lose again I hope."
 
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