Unscripted '12: TLC - Sam Smith (c) vs. Triple X (Elite X Title)

[Viola Moonlight]

Deadline is 11:59pm Central Time, Friday 14th December. Extensions as per thread.​

 

[The Crock]

Sam Smith stands in front of his bathroom mirror, taking in the reflection before him in complete silence. The man staring back at Sam is as much a mystery to him as it is to everybody else; the expressionless face trying to hide a myriad of emotions. Smith's eyes are bloodshot, his short beard unkempt, and his bare chest is covered in bruises. He reaches down into a drawer below his sink, pulling out a bottle of pills and generously shoves a few down his throat -- it's less about dulling the pain and more out of necessity, at this point.

A sharp knock at the front door disturbs Smith's silence. He lets out a sigh and walks toward the door, wincing with every step he takes -- a result of his ribs nearly being broken at the hands of Triple X.

Smith opens the door and all color drains from his face. Sweat dots his brow, as he struggles to find any words to say. Chelsea Shaw stands at the doorstep, looking back at Sam with sorrow written across her face. She speaks first.

Chelsea: "I realize you weren't expecting me Sam, but I had to see you."

Chelsea steps into Sam's house, a shocked Sam closing the door behind her. He hadn't expected to ever see Chelsea again after how he'd left things the last time he had seen her. Smith finally musters a few words.

Sam: "It's nice to see you."

Chelsea slowly nods before responding.

Chelsea: "Listen Sam, I won't be long. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

Smith sheepishly looks down at his feet.

Sam: "I, uhh, I'm alright."

Chelsea: "I know when you're lying, Sam -- you need help."

Sam: "I'm fine."

Frustration gets the better of Chelsea.

Chelsea: "Damn it, Sam -- you're not okay! For Christ's sake, sometimes I can't believe the path you've taken your life down. You were a lawyer and now you're hooked on the same type of things the people you used to put away were on."

Smith smirks.

Sam: "And how the hell would you know what I do with my life, Chelsea? Better yet, why do you care? You replaced me with that other douchebag before I even had one foot out the door."

Chelsea: "You're a selfish piece of shit. You're attacking me? After I came to see if you were doing alright?"

Chelsea dabs at her eyes, as tears begin to well down her cheeks.

Chelsea: "I'm done worrying about whether or not you'll live to see tomorrow -- it's not worth it anymore."

She reaches into her pocket, pulling something out.

Chelsea: "I came here to give you this back. It's the engagement ring you gave me -- I can't hang on to the past anymore, Sam."

Smith silently grabs the ring, choking back tears of his own. Chelsea reaches forward and runs her hand through his hair, stopping on his cheek before turning toward the door.

Chelsea: "I love you, Sam. Take care of yourself."

Chelsea leaves and closes the door behind her. Sam stands alone, staring at the ring in his hand. He shoves the ring into his pants pocket, and walks over and slumps down onto his couch.

Smith buries his head into his hands and begins sobbing. Eventually, the sobs turn into hysterical laughter, with Smith grabbing at tufts of his hair. Gradually, the laughter stops -- Smith breathes heavily and stares intently at the door of his house. He slowly rises to his feet, the same intent, almost maniacal look still crossing his face. With no warning, he begins tossing furniture about in his living room, tearing everything apart, and letting out an agonizing scream to top it all off.

After stopping to admire his handiwork, he drops down and sits cross-legged on the floor. After a few moments of stillness, he reaches back into his pocket for the engagement ring and begins to examine it. No emotions cross his face -- he fades back into complete silence.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The scene re-opens with Sam Smith sitting in the passenger's seat of a car, with Rush at the wheel. The two are driving from the last house show before Unscripted to their hotel. Smith's seat is reclined all the way back, his feet are rested up against the dashboard, and he aimlessly stares at the ceiling of the car. He speaks first.

Sam: "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if you'd never gotten into wrestling, Mac?"

Rush thinks about the question for a moment.

Rush: "I used to. It's just that I've been at it for so long, I've forgotten what it's like to be a 'normal' person."

Sam: "Sometimes I think I'd be better off if I'd have stuck with my law career, or, hell, even just been a normal working stiff. Seems so much simpler."

Rush: "Can't argue with you there."

Smith snorts and responds.

Sam: "My life went to shit when I joined WZCW. I used to go home to a dog and a loving fiancée, now I go home to nothing."

Rush pats Sam on the knee reassuringly.

Rush: "You can't be hung up on Chelsea, Sam. She'll come back your way eventually, you just need to give her some space."

Sam shakes his head.

Sam: "Naah, man."

Smith reaches down his shirt and pulls on the necklace he's wearing. He takes it off and points at the engagement ring hanging off the end of the thin chain.

Sam: "She came to my house and gave me this a few days ago. She's over it, Mac."

Rush: "Shit man, I'm sorry."

Sam: "Yeah, me too."'

Smith turns over in his seat and faces the window, while closing his eyes and trying to sleep. Rush looks over at his friend, letting out a sigh and shaking his head.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rush: "Are you sure you can handle this by yourself, Sam?"

Rush and Smith are standing by the Unscripted interview set, with Leon Kensworth impatiently waiting in the wings.

Sam: "Yeah. You've got your own match to focus on, I can handle Triple X. I have to do this one by myself, man."

An inkling of doubt flashes across Rush's face, but he relents.

Rush: "Okay. Good luck out there tonight."

Sam: "You too."

The two quickly shake hands and part ways. Smith approaches Kensworth and begins his interview.

Kensworth: "Ladies and gentleman, I'm here with the WZCW Elite X Champion, Sam Smith. Sam, you face one of the biggest tests you've ever faced, as you defend that title against Triple X in a TLC match later tonight. Not only is TLC a Triple X specialty, but he managed to put you through an announce table at Ascension 56. Your back is against the wall, Sam -- how do you plan on evening out the playing field?"

A visibly annoyed Smith yanks the microphone out of Leon's hands.

Sam: "You know, Kensworth... ever since this match was first announced, people have looked at me as the underdog. WZCW.com is littered with fan comments about how I stand no chance or how I need this win to step out of Rush's shadow, blah blah blah. I mean, Triple X is the hottest young prospect in WZCW and I'm just a veteran destined to be a stepping stone for people like him, right?"

Smith smirks.

Sam: "I was in Triple X's shoes once; I'd had the longest Elite X Championship reign and I was poised to break the glass ceiling -- but I didn't. I broke down, I left, and I sat at home for a few months and figured I'd never lace up a pair of boots again. Then I started to feel angry, because the fans that I had gone out there and put my body on the line for had turned their backs on me. Instantly, I felt more alone than I ever had, but I wanted retribution. That's why I'm here.

That's all the motivation I need to level the playing field. I don't hate you, Triple X -- I just hate what you represent... and I'm going to punish you."

Smith thrusts the microphone back in Kensworth's arms.

Kensworth: "Expand upon that, Sam -- say whatever you have to say about X."

Smith tears the microphone out of Kensworth's hands once again.

Smith: "I don't have much to say about X -- he's just another company stooge put into the same position I was. He thinks these fans really love him, and that's where he's wrong, and the company loves him because he's the perfect comeback story."

Kensworth leans over and blurts out a question.

Kensworth: "Are you denying the heroic nature of Triple X's story?"

Smith: "He's a scam, Leon. Just because he's not sticking that needle into his arm anymore doesn't mean he's not the same junkie piece of trash he always was. He replaced one high with another. Instead of looking for a fix, he jumps off of ladders to have those people chant his name."

Smith paces around for a moment before focusing directly on the camera, that newfound anger taking him over once more, as he nearly shouts out his next words.

Smith: "Those people will be your downfall, X -- just like they were mine. They'll make you feel invincible and they'll make you throw caution to the wind. They'll make you jump off another ladder, they'll make you try to put me through another table, but you'll fail."

Smith smiles wildly.

Smith: "You'll crash, X. Then I'll make you burn."

 

[BK Styles]

The roar of the crowd is drowning out by the deafening sound of the exploding table. As his body comes to a crumpled stop atop of Sam Smith, Triple X stares up at the Ascension arena’s ceiling, pain racking through his spine and his ribs. Smith is undoubtedly worse for wear underneath him, but as the EMT’s come to check on the condition of the two opponents, X lays there motionless, his mind blank as the environment around him begins to change…

It's about eight years ago, on a summer's evening. It’s late, past midnight. I, the Young X, walk up to the house the lights are still on. Usually my parents would be asleep by now The only thing I could put my finger on is they checked on me in my room, only to find me not there. Great.

I open the door, check the coast is clear, and like a cocksure little prick, walk jovially into the kitchen. I grab a glass of water, but I already know my Mom and Dad are standing behind me, arms folded, best war-face on.

Young X: You guys didn’t have to wait up for me.

Alan: The hell we didn’t. Where the hell have you been??

Young X: Just out, y’know.

Alan: Out?! At this hour?

Young X: (checks the clock on the wall) Ohhh…sorry guys I didn’t realise the-

Alan: Don’t give me that crap. Where have you been? Who with?

Young X: Oh, just some friends. Studying, y’know.

Alan: How dare you-

Rachel: Alan, just leave it-

Alan: Don’t you dare defend him!

Rachel: I’m not, I just-

Before mom can continue, Dad throws a small plastic bag onto the table; inside it contains small, white pills. I know immediately what it is, but try my utmost to act as surprised as I can.

Young X: W…what’s that?

Alan: Tell us, son.

Young X: I don’t know what you-

Alan: Cut the crap, Alexander!

Young X: Someone must have put it in my bag.

Alan: Oh, really?

Rachel: Xander, sweetheart, just be honest, please.

Seeing my mom so calm while my dad was so angry, for some reason it hit me with a wave of unbearable guilt. But I was a stubborn teenager. I slammed my glass down and stormed out of the room, only for my dad to follow me. He grabs my wrist and pins me against the wall. He looks deep into my eyes, and instantly I know that he knows I’m using. He sniffs the air too, catching the scent of the alcohol on my breath.

Alan: So drinking, drugs, anything else you want to be telling us??

Young X: Dad, please, I can explain-

Alan: I’ve told your mother time and again, those friends you hang around with would lead you to trouble.

Young X: Mom, I promise you, I-

Alan: Who gave you these?? Was it that girl? She looks the sort to be messing with shit like this-

Before I can even think, I shove dad away and against the opposite wall, not knowing my own strength. Mom screams, as Dad just stands there, shocked, probably appauled, at the sorry excuse for a son that stands before him.

Young X: You don’t seem to get it. You think Abi is the problem? You think my friends are the problem? You don’t stop and think that maybe, just maybe, the problem stares you in the face every time you look in a mirror? Because you seem to think that I want to change, when guess what? I’m happy! Happier than I’ve ever been, and I don’t care whether you think I’m a waste of space, or a disgrace, or anything like that. You know why? Because I’m happy. Maybe this is who I really am. And if you don’t like it, Dad, you can go and fuck yourself!

And with those delightful parting words, I storm out, slamming the door as I do. I leave my parents in what could be either a stoney silence, or a long-winded argument about my upbringing and how they ‘didn’t do enough’. I keep walking, virtually on auto-pilot, until I get to the last house at the end of the street. Abi’s place. I hop over the fence and walk round to the back. Her bedroom has a balcony on it, so I use the drainpipe to climb up the side of the house, and manage to throw myself the short distance between it and the ledge. I hoist myself up onto the ledge, but stay crouched down when the all-too-familiar raised voices come into earshot.

Abi’s Mom: -can’t believe you’re so stupid.

Abi: Mom, chill out. Half the kids at school are doing it.

Abi’s Mom: oh, and that makes it okay???

Abi: No, but-

Abi’s Mom: Just wait until your father hears about this. You’ll be in so much trouble when he gets back-

Abi: For what??? Being a kid???

Abi’s Mom: For being irresponsible! For letting that Knight boy talk you into doing all of this!

Abi: Leave Xander out of this.

Abi’s Mom: Hanging around on street corners, always staying out late, skipping classes, he’s a bad influence!

Abi: I was doing this kind of thing before Xander and I even started talking.

Abi’s Mom: Well, you would say that-

Abi: And you still refuse to believe it! Mom, I’m my own person. I do things because I want to do them, not because people tell me to. And If that’s too much for you to deal with then I’m sorry, but that’s who I am. Deal with it.

Abi’s Mom: How dare you…

The next noise from the room is an incredibly loud slap. I resist my initial urge to burst through the doors and protect Abi (or talk her out of laying more Smackdown on her own mother, should that be the case), and wait, until her mother finally talks again.

Abi’s Mom: You go to sleep, and you needn’t think of leaving this house tomorrow. Grounded is an understatement, young lady.

A few moments pass, then the door slams shut, immediately followed by a large smash of glass. I wait a moment, before quietly knocking on the window. The immediate silence is followed by slow footsteps and the unlocking of the door. She opens it, and I see her, black and red hair covering one side of her face, the eye not covered by hair red and watery. I gently lift her hair and sweep it back, uncovering the red, sore cheek underneath.

Young X: You too, huh?

Abi: She can go to hell.

Young X: In her own way, she’s only looking out for you.

Abi: By trying to control my life?

Young X: She’s just afraid. My folks are the same. Worried we might do something stupid.

Abi: But we know what we’re doing. We’re not hurting anyone. Why can’t they just leave us alone?

I put my hand on her shoulder, and bring her in close for a hug.

Young X: Come here.

The both go to the edge of the balcony and sit on the wall, feet dangling over the edge, looking up at the sky. The stars are out in full swing, lighting up the sky like a Christmas tree.

Young X: We could leave.

Abi: What?

Young X: Run away. Go live somewhere else. Just us.

Abi: That’s silly.

Young X: Why?

Abi: You got any money?

Young X: …not much.

Abi: And have I got any money?

Young X:…not much.

We stare at each other, and burst out laughing, keeping as quiet as possible so no-one hears us.

Young X: Okay, there’s a few holes.

Abi: More than a few.

We both stare into the sky for a moment. Abi rests her head on my shoulder.

Abi: One day. No doubt about it.

I smile, and we kiss, before turning back to stare at the stars.

???: Sounds pretty shit, if you ask me.

X looks up. He and Red are sitting at a table in a local bar; Red with a beer, and X with a soda. The bar is buzzing with activity, but not so noisy that they have to shout. It’s now past Ascension, a couple of days before Unscripted.

Red: You need to see a psychiatrist or something. Reliving memories like this ain’t healthy.

X: Thanks for the advice there.

Red: Can’t you see that Kurtesy bloke? Isn’t he a professor? Like, the proper kind with letters after his name?

X: Left. Retired.

Red: Oh. Shame. Well, you’re boned then, in that case.

X: (a slight laugh) Oh thanks.

Red: Just telling it as it is.

The both remain quiet for a moment, X taking a drink from his glass.

Red: It couldn’t be because of your match this week, could it?

X: Well, considering it wasn’t decided until last Ascension, I doubt it.

Red: No, I’m serious. Your target, ever since you lost it, has been to regain your nice and shiny belt, right? And while you won’t care to admit it, you knew you’d end up challenging for it again, am I right?

X: I-

Red: Glad you agree. So, with that, Sam Smith has been the champion, and from what you’ve told me about his personal life, he’s a troubled bugger. Maybe you’re flashing back so much because you see your troubles in him.

X stays staring at the table for a few moments, mulling over Red’s words.

Red: You actually have sympathy for this guy.

X: Of course I do.

Red: Why? I mean, from what I’ve read on the internet-

X: -oh, well it MUST be true then-

Red: -it looks like he’s dug the hole he’s in himself and thrown the shovel at the fans who used to love him. I mean, you had problems, but at least you had reasons.

X: There’s no excuse, Dave. And I was messed up before the whole Abi thing went down.

X reaches down and lifts up his shirt. His ribs still have taping around them, with some mild bruising near the top of the tape.

X: This is what a ladder-height Firefly through a table did to me, Red. And whether it’s the right thing or not, I refused medication. Smith on the other hand had the full impact of the move. He’ll be in worse shape than me, for sure and he’ll take every pill he can. His pain is his excuse to take those pills, not his reason. The reason is because he can’t operate without them.

Red: But you found the strength to push through and quit. That’s admirable. And it’s a strength that can’t be broken by anyone. A strength Smith just doesn’t have.

X: It’s not about strength. It’s about reason. You can have everything you want in the world, and then one thing happens, and everything falls to shit. One horrible moment you can’t do anything about. Sam’s been through a lot, and the best of men would turn to dark means to make themselves feel better. But the opposite is true too. For me, it took an event like that to open my eyes. As much as I loved Abi, every part of me didn’t wanna go that way. I mean, I may do crazy, risk-taking things in the ring, but I don’t want to waste my life.

Red: So you think Smith doesn’t care?

X: Maybe. When you’re in a dark place it’s difficult to pull yourself out. Like I said, sometimes it takes something bad to force a change. But he has the blinkers on, and he can’t see anything other than his goal, let alone a way to fix his life. Oh, he cares, all right. Just about the wrong things.

Red: What do you mean?

Before X can answer, his phone vibrates. X picks it up, and upon seeing the identity of the caller, immediately rejects the call.

Red: Someone you want to ignore?

X: Something like that. I’d rather not talk about it.

Red: Consider it ignored.

X: But yeah, when Smith and I faced each other not long after Kingdom Come, his goal was to destroy WZCW. He views it as the place that made him like this, that and the fans. And he wanted to use me as an example. Back then I beat him, but a lot more pain has festered since, and beating me isn’t enough. He wants to break me. And prove a point; that the fans cause everyone to crash and burn.

Red: You do a good enough job of that yourself without help from the fans.

X: Thanks for that.

Red: Any time. But seriously, mate, you’ve got nothing to worry about here. You beat your demons; his rule him. You've got this.

X: Demons don’t get beaten. They get knocked back and held at bay, and the true strength of a man is if he can hold them back. Smith has embodied everything I was, and everything I could have been, and has embraced his demons. He blames everyone around him, and uses that feeling of neglect, of hate, as a powerful weapon. That’s the asshole I was before Abi died, and taking responsibility is the only reason I’m still standing here.

Red: Sitting.

X: Whatever. The point is, I’ve been there. And that’s why at Unscripted, I’m not just facing Smith. Because when that bell rings, I’m going to be looking into my eyes. My soul. I’m gonna see the rage I built up against my parents, the anger I felt when I heard about Abi, and I’m gonna see it reflected in a man who is slowly destroying himself. And I get a chance to push those demons even further back, and show Sam Smith that his life, mistakes and all, is worth more than a bottle of pain pills.

Red: And become only the fourth two-time Elite X champion in WZCW history! And the best, in my humble opinion.

X: I’ll drink to that, bro.

They clink bottles, as the conversation turns to happier thoughts. Another hour rolls on by before they both decide to call it a night. As they head their separate ways, X glances at his phone again; one voice mail. Reluctantly, he selects the playback option.

Frank: Xander, it’s me. Frank. I uh…look, I’m not gonna apologise for what I said before. I stand by it. I think you’re reckless. I think you’re foolhardy. And I think that when I see a man like Sam Smith, and everything he’s become, I can’t help but feel that you could become him.

But that’s the thing Xander; you didn’t. You faced up to your problems and dealt with them like a man, and to say I’m proud of you is an understatement. I’m proud as if you were my own son. And I may disagree with the way you do things in your line of work, and your mother and I may say things that hit a little harder than usual, but please don’t think for a second that we don’t care. We do.

And when we see a guy like this Smith fellow, we know things could have turned out so much worse. So while your mother might say things to you in regard to your actions in the ring, and while I may do the same, we trust you. So you do what you need to do, Xander. You go out there and show him how a real champion roles. Either way…we’re proud of you, kid.

There’s a click as the message ends. X stays frozen with the phone by his ear for a moment, and a small smile creeps across his face, as he pockets the cellphone, and continues walking, stepping closer to what could possibly be the most brutal fight of his life.