Hardkore World Title Holders

[The Blackness]

From the desk of Nathan Cardenal, owner of HKW-PR-

Welcome to the inaugural show of the new era in Puerto Rico. This is a show designed to showcase the finest talents that is currently under contract to Puerto Rico, and therefore, while results will not really count towards eligibility towards championship shots, it will make fresh in the fans' minds who to watch for in Puerto Rico. Therefore, it will be treated as an official show.

Live from the Buga Coliseum in Isabela, Puerto Rico.

Barbaric Gino Sanchez vs Nate "The Raptor" Redman

"Heartless" John Schmidt vs Trevor B.

High Maintenance vs Dragon Belt and Psychotic Goth

More matches may be added as time goes on.

Promos now accepted.

[The Shootfighter]

(Dragon Belt and Tiger Belt are touring an old fort in Puerto-Rico with Little Dragon. They are dressed in street clothes while still wearing their masks.)

Dragon Belt: "Ah Puerto-Rico the shining star of the Carribean."

Tiger Belt: "Yes and you're wrestling here too."

Dragon Belt: "It feels like old times."

Tiger Belt: "I know."

(Little Dragon jogs ahead a bit and looks into a dungeon cell.)

Little Dragon: "Hey dad. It's big brother Psychotic Goth."

(Dragon Belt looks inside and is shocked to see Psychotic Goth lying in there not moving.)

Dragon Belt: "Did I just say old times."

Tiger Belt: "How did he get in there."

Psychotic Goth: "Come in, my friend."

Dragon Belt: "Will you get out of there."

Psychotic Goth: "Very well."

(He slowly gets up and leaves the cell half naked.)

Tiger Belt: "With all your clothes on."

Psychotic Goth: "I was enjoying the experience of being a prisoner in an old fort."

Dragon Belt: "I see you haven't changed."

Psychotic Goth: "Yes and I love every bit of my war with the establishment's rules and regulations."

Tiger Belt: "Here we go again."

Little Dragon: "What again mom."

Tiger Belt: "Oh there usual debates over useless things."

Little Dragon: "Maybe I can get some pointers if I ever want to join the debate team."

Tiger Belt: "Doubtful."

Dragon Belt: "I heard you were doing well in Hardkore Britain."

Psychotic Goth: "Yes me and Bryan Warrior have held the British Tag Titles and lost them to a couple of Walmart ads. We shall kill them this time. Or even better..."

(He cackles evilly.)

Psychotic Goth: "I'll kidnap them and place them in one of these cells......Forever!"

(He laughs loudly attracting the tourists attention while Dragon Belt slaps his head and Tiger Belt rolls her eyes and sighs.)

Dragon Belt: "I see you still get people's attention."

Psychotic Goth: "Yes and soon we'll be getting everyone's attention. The so-called team of High Maintenance is going to need quite a bit of it when we get through with them."

Dragon Belt: "So I see you're getting prepared for the match."

Psychotic Goth: "Like I always do. I can't wait to go see the Santaria demonstration. I love black magic."

Tiger Belt: "It's white magic."

Psychotic Goth: "Not in Vampira's and my hands."

Dragon Belt: "LIke I said never changes a bit."

Little Dragon: "Hey can you show me the proper way to bite....."

Tiger Belt: "Don't you even ask."

Dragon Belt: "Tomorrow we meet at the gym and start our preparations for our tag match with High Maintenance."

Psychotic Goth: "I can't wait to do some real maintenance on them as we destroy them. Then we can bring them here and lock them away forever."

Dragon Belt: "Why did I ask you to come team with me again."

Psychotic Goth: "We work well together."

Tiger Belt: "You just had to ask."

Little Dragon: "Ask what."

Tiger Belt: "Never mind. Let's get something to eat and unpack our stuff at our apartment."

Little Dragon: "Cool. Can we try the real spicy stuff."

Tiger Belt: "can your stomach take it."

Little Dragon: "Wanna bet."

Tiger Belt: "More like a sucker's bet. Forget it kid. Let's go."

(They all leave as the scene slowly fades to black.)

[Sin City Saint]

["Hammer Smashed Face" by Cannibal Corpse is playing loudly on a stereo system that has seen better days, the thrashing guitars and gutteral screaming...]

*PZZZTTTT POP!*

Voice: Son of a bitch.

[The voice, gravelly, low, and full of liquid courage. Jim Beam pays rent here, rather, hinders the paying of rent. A bulky man appears on screen. His long hair jet black, and a sleeveless purple t-shirt and a pair of greasy jeans.]

Now what am I going to do?

Female voice: You got something in the mail, baby.

[A well tanned slender brunette with a rack that won't stop steps into the room, carrying some mail.]

Man: What's this?

Woman: I think it's from that place you sent that tape of yours to.

Man: What in the hell are you talking about?

Woman: About three weeks ago, you sent off your best of tape to some, dude in Puerto Rico.

Man: Why would I do that?

Woman: Because you've been banned in most of the United States from wrestling?

Man: I try and castrate one underaged punk who thinks jumping off rooftops is hardcore and suddenly _I'm_ the bad guy.

Woman: It was with a pizza cutter, on the federations free for all before the pay per view.

Man: That was good TV!

Woman: They showed the mother crying uncontrollably, I think she was hospitalized. Like the nuthouse.

Man: If she'd taught her kid some respect, I wouldn't have had too.

Woman: John...

[Those eyes. The ones that women use as a totally unfair advantage over men. The ones that say, You are toeing the line, and you don't want to cross that line or no sex for a month.]

John: Well, he was being stiff in the ring.

[The eyes grow harder.]

John: I did my community service, okay? Do we have to bring this up everytime I try to get into a new federation? Eh, Lola?

Lola: Well High Voltage Wrestling wouldn't touch you, said you where too dangerous. That you refused to play by the rules.

John: I put asses in seats.

Lola: Not if you can't get state sanctioned to wrestle you don't.

John: People don't understand me, don't understand what I do.

Lola: You hit people with a steel chair, and then punch them in the chest.

John: Well, broadly, yeah.

Lola: And more in depth?

John: I... okay, you got it in full, but that doesn't mean that people don't pay to see that.

Lola: Well, this is from Hardkore Puerto Rico, I guess they took your tape as good, and sent a contract... oh, and they booked you in a match.

John: For reals?

Lola: For reals.

John: Hot damn, let's get packing.

Lola: Most of your stuff got repoed.

John: I hate that masked man with tire tracks on his shirt.

Lola: We might as well set up base down there.

John: True that, honey. Do you speak Spanish?

Lola: I'm half-Cuban John.

John: I didn't want to assume anything.

[Eyes of death.]

John: What?

[Fade.]

[Soutter]

Scene opens up on the tag team of High Maintenance. "The New Sensation" Nathan Slater and "The Rolls Royce" Jonathon Richards. Both are decked out in expensive slacks and long silk shirts, Richards red shirt and Slater pink, both cut off at the sleeve's and both unbuttoned to show off there impressive bodies, both are momentarily flexing for the camera. They are set as above, 'Ruins of San Antonio de La Tuna' - Isabela, Puerto Rico.

As is there wont, both are extremely oiled up, the sun glistening off there tanned torso's. Richards is a bull of a man, muscles bulging all over his body. Slater more toned then ripped, but still very muscular, very athletic looking.

Nathan Slater : So, back to Hardkore World.

Jonathon Richards : Looks that way. Some bum put the cash out, turns out he wants to establish Hardkore here in Puerto Rico, and who better to build your fed around then High Maintenance.

Nathan Slater : The goose doesn't know what he's got himself into signing us, we are gonna run through his fed and this third world country like a hot knife threw butter!

Richards : You know what i like about these kangaroo countries .... no laws. Not that we ever worried about that anyways ... but here ... throw them a $20 and you can get away with anything.

Slater : Its been a while since we got in the ring ... this is very timely.

Richards : Timely indeed ... I have had the urge to hurt someone for the longest time ... finally we get to break some bones.

Slater : How long you give this dump of a fed to last big guy?

Richards : Who cares ... we got a two year contract ... they can close down in two weeks or two months, we get Paid_In_Full!

Slater : Gotta love my Uncle Gavin, he sure knows how to write a contract.

Richards : Just so long as thats what he does for us and doesn't start nagging us again.

A breeze blows threw the ruins, flapping the open shirts of High Maintenance, both flexing there abs as if on instinct.

Slater : (to the camera) Our first match in Hardkore World, we won the World Tag Team Championships. Our FIRST match .... The_World_Belts. We are the greatest tandem to ever set foot in a Hardkore Ring, any ring for that matter.

Richards : We are the most dangerous duo since Mickey and Mallory hooked up. We bust heads in the ring, and bust balls out of it.

Slater : They dont call us High Maintenance for nothing, we make Paris Hilton look like Julie Andrews.

Richards : We dont care about our fellow workers, or this dump of a fed. We care about two people, and your looking at them.

Slater : And look at this first show ... a "small house show" ... you can book the smallest or biggest arena's in this shithole of a country, it matters not to us, the price is the same, whether its in front of 100 people or 100,000. Which we can draw in a heartbeat.

Richards : We won the Hardkore World Straps in our first ever match in this fed ... and WE WANT THEM BACK!

Slater : Get us a shot, or we will take out your entire roster ... one by one ... starting with Dragon Belt and his Goth sidekick.

Richards : And for the record, while we are the greatest tag team in the history of the sport, we can also work singles matches. No way you have enough tag teams here to feed us, while beating Dragon Belt and Goth is gonna be a lot of fun, its going to get old real fast. So dont forget us when the singles belts come on the line ... or else!

Richards and Slater give a double pose, there oiled up bodies shinning like Greek gods of old.

[The Shootfighter]

(The gym is hot and the smell of sweat is everywhere. The ring is surrounded by curious fans and Little Dragon who are cheering and oohing and aahing Dragon Belt and Psychotic Goth's every move. The reporters watch and take pictures and film video of Dragon Belt and Psychotic Goth sparring with their partners as they prepare for their tag team match with High maintenance. Dragon Belt is dressed in his green full bodied surfer's suit w/a fierce fire breathing dragon on the front, green wrestling boots, green cobra gloves and a green mask that covers his face except for the nose and mouth a TAO symbol is burned into hisleft cheek and his long dark hair flows freely from the top of his mask. Psychotic Goth is dressed in black and his long waiste length dark hair is matted to his face and back. Dragonatrix rings the bell to end their sparring session as the fans express disappointment.)

Dragon Belt: "Seems like yesterday."

Psychotic Goth: "We still have the magic that make us one of the best teams in Hardkore World."

(They go over and start signing autographs.)

Dragon Belt: "hardkore Puerto-Rico is going to be our promotion."

Psychotic Goth: "Domination or nothing is going to be the goal."

Little Dragon: "Man you two were so cool in the ring."

Dragon Belt: "Thanks."

(Dragonatrix clears her throat.)

Dragonatrix: "Don't forget you have interviews."

Psychotic Goth: "As usual the establishment sends people to disturb our preparations."

Dragon Belt Muttering): "Here we go again."

Reporter #1: "Welcome to Hardkore Puerto-Rico."

Dragon Belt: "We are quite honored by your presence."

Psychotic Goth: "Though, you intend to make us out like fools."

Dragon Belt: "Let me do the talking."

Psychotic Goth: "Very well."

Reporter #2: "You and Psychotic Goth have been apart for a year now. Why have you decided to become a team again."

Psychotic Goth: "That is an insult to our intelligence. You....."

(Dragon Belt kicks him hard in the ankle.)

Psychotic Goth: "Sorry."

(He eyes Reporter #2 maniacally as the reporter gulps nervously)

Dragon Belt: "We've been doing our own thing and been pursuing our own goals.
Still when the time and opportunity mainly Hardkore Puerto-Rico opened. We decided to enter again as a tag team. It was quite a conversation."

Reporter #3: "What do you think of High Maintenance."

Dragon Belt: "They are quite an impressive team. They accomplished a lot in every promotion they wrestled. They were the world tag team champions. Still we are an accomplished team too."

Psychotic Goth: "We won the Hardkore Nippon Tag Titles but were deprived by the establishment. The very establishment that hates outsiders like me!"

Dragon Belt: "Remember......"

Psychotic Goth: "Very well."

(He glares at both Reporters.)

Dragon Belt: "Anyway they are quite formidable. Though, they are spoiled and care about money more than the prestige of holding tag team gold. Yes they are good at singles competition too. Still we are quite accomplished as singles wrestlers as well. So there is quite a lot of intrigue."

Reporter #4: "Changing the subject. Who was that you were with when you were touring the castle last week."

Dragon Belt: "I know Psychotic Goth is wierd and loves dungeons...."

Reporter #4: "I mean the one with the tiger's mask."

Little Dragon: "Oh you mean Tiger Belt."

Dragonatrix: "What were you doing with here."

Dragon Belt: "She was just visiting."

Dragonatrix: "I bet."

Dragon Belt: "Well she was."

Little Dragon: "It's true."

Psychotic Goth: "The establishment never fails to cause trouble."

(Dragon Belt and Dragonatrix growl at him.)

Psychotic Goth: "Very well do not believe my warnings."

Reporter #4: "So she was just visiting."

Dragon Belt: "Yes a friend from the old NWC and present Ring of Fire Wrestling competitor."

Reporter #5: "What are your chances at beating High Maintenance."

Dragon Belt: "I think we'll hold our own and pull off an upset. Well it's time to hit the showers and get something to eat."

Little Dragon: "How about something real hot."

Psychotic Goth: "If it's burning hot. I'll be glad to eat it all."

Dragon Belt: "Just be sure you don't try to cut yourself."

Psychotic Goth: "Yet so goth. The pain is like pleasure and to see your own blood....."

(Dragon Belt and Dragonatrix groan and slap their heads and leave with Little Dragon.)

Psychotic Goth: "What did I say?"

(Le slowly leaves the ring still glaring at the Reporters who as the last three questions an the scene slowly fades to black.)

[Revolution]

We fade in to see Gino Sanchez sitting outside a local bar with Manson Menendez who’s drinking tequila shooters. Gino is putting back bottle after bottle of Puerto Rican rum. He takes a swig of the rum and spits it onto the ground demanding something much stronger.

Gino: Damn rum takes like piss around this joint.

Gino bangs the bottle down on the bar until someone comes over and hands him a bottle of Quervo. He slams a bit of that before wiping his bottom lip with his right hand and spits at the bartender.

Gino: Much better ya damn moron. At least your kind can find something to do as opposed to collecting unemployment. Worthless apple picker.

Manson: Why didn’t you just slit his freakin’ throat open? Didn’t you learn anything on your last tour of Japan?

Gino: Why waste an apple pickers blood over bad whiskey? Besides I had to spit and he looked like a good target.

Manson: You do realize that if Rachelle were here it’d be your ass.

Gino: Nothing big about that at all, all she’d do is have me doing three more hours of the damn stair stepper.

Manson: You do realize you’ve got a match coming up right?

Gino: Yeah some hillbilly named Nate Redman right?

Manson: Hillbilly?

Gino: Redmans a type of chewing tobacco right?

Manson: Yes.

Gino: And hillbillies chew tobacco right?

Manson: Yes.

Gino: Ok, so he’s a hillbilly then. And yes I know I have a match coming up with him.

Manson: So while you’re out here slamming bottle after bottle of liquor shouldn’t you be training with Rachelle?

Gino: Look man get off my ass. I’ve got it all covered.

Chains, electric pods, my famous mist, fire, powder, chairs, whips, cuffs, I’m ready for this hillbilly.

Manson: What do you know about Nate?

Gino: He’s called the napster isn’t he?

Manson: That’s the raptor you blood thirsty fool.

Gino: Raptor? Aren’t they extinct or something?

Manson: I think so but what’s that got to do with him?

Gino: Look, you’re trying to tell me that I left the skirts of Japan and sake to come to Puerto Rico and face an about to be extinct wrestler?

I came here for blood lusting freaks who only care about carnage, sucking the skin off another being and using their teeth as toothpicks.

Manson: I don’t think you’re taking this match to seriously and Rachelle is going to bust your ass tomorrow.

Gino gets up and slams down a large wad of cash on the counter and fires a gun off towards the ceiling and begins to scream as he struts across the bar slapping women on the ass and thumping men on the head with his right fist.

Gino: Everyone drink up, it’s on me!

[Nate Redman]

I’m really beginning to question the judgment of HardKore World match makers.

The Windy City of Chicago’s beautiful horizon line is shown as the shot opens. The camera slowly fades down into the hectic city streets where many familiar sounds of the city are heard. After a few seconds the camera cuts to a top of a skyscraper in the heart of the downtown Chicago. The camera slows to a stop focusing on a dark, foreboding figure standing in the distance. The camera shot moves forward, revealing the large figure, standing at an intimidating six foot five inches, and a near three hundred pounds, peering over the ledge of the skyscraper. The camera moves closer and the man standing there seemingly unphased. Suddenly, the man begins to speak, startling the camera operator.

First, I am booked in HardKore World Australia against a man that was trained by a man that was jobbed out in my home federation. This competitor is not worthy enough to spit shine my shoes. And now, I move back half way across the world, and come to find out that it is not much different.

The man makes a motion toward the people below.

Look at them down there. Scurrying around like a bunch of insignificant insects. They are nothing but herds of cattle, waiting to be slaughtered. They know nothing of honor; nothing of integrity. Not like I do. Do you think they could grasp what it is to be like me?

The physically impeccable man turns around and faces the camera with a cynical look on his face.

However, I am continually treated like I am one of the herd. My accomplishments are ignored, and my achievements admonished. I have beat some of the best the professional wrestling world have had to offer, yet, I am treated like garbage. And in a few short weeks, I will have to take on another piece of garbage that goes by the name of Gino Sanchez.

The man shakes his head in disgust. It is something that is not uncommon to him and his career. He has been there before, and he is not worried about going through the muck before getting what he wants: the HardKore World Heavyweight Championship. The man begins to smile before continuing.

How rude of me not to introduce myself. It was quite clear by the last words of my opponent that he did not know who I was. Unlike these wiggling maggots that I see pollute my city streets each and every day, I am a man of honor, a man of integrity; a man that has gone to hell and back in some of the most grueling matches in professional wrestling history. I have been smacked with chairs, thrown into thumbtacks, shredded in barbed wire and dumped off a scaffold forty feet into the air through a stack of flaming tables. I am a five-time champion, and a former WOF World Heavyweight Champion, with a nearly four month undefeated streak in my rookie campaign. I currently hold nearly a one hundred and fifty day undefeated streak heading into my next set of matches. Yet with a resume like this, I am completely forgotten by my “fans,” and completely dumped on by the HardKore World hierarchy. My name is Nate “The Raptor” Redman.

Redman chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief from what he has just said. The reality of his comments has yet to sink in.

Redman: After a year away from the sport, these comments still sting. They are what brought me back in the first place. I went back to my home fed, FTWO, and within a half a year, I won championships, defeated the best they had to offer, and currently hold a World Heavyweight Championship opportunity anytime within the next calendar year. But none of that matters here. This is HardKore World, and this is an entirely different beast than FTWO. This is a company that prides itself on having no rules. It makes sure to satisfy each and every bloodthirsty fan that packs its arenas. It is an environment that was custom made for Nate Redman.

Redman looks up at the heavens with a smile on his face. Redman, still looks a bit disillusioned by the entire ordeal as he brings his head into his hands and shakes it back and forth.

Redman: Gino, I know you have no clue who I am, or what I am capable of. I could list off the dozens of matches that I have been in. The Flames of Phoenix match where I fell forty feet through a dozen flaming tables. The two Three Stages of Hell matches that I had with Lynn Brewster. The Bloody Connections match that I had with the “Suicide Kid” Courtney Montgomery. The list goes on and on. None of it matters here. No matter how big my resume is, you will not recognize any of it, nor will you care. And the same goes for me. I have no clue who you are, what you are about, or what you are capable of and quite frankly, it excites me.

Yes, Gino, picturing you across from me in the center of the ring excites me. Not because you pose a huge threat, but because I have no clue if you pose a threat to me. I love the unpreparedness. I love the surprise that I will get in just a few short weeks. For years, I have been going against competitors that I have known what they brought to the table. I knew their strengths, and I knew their weaknesses. I could gameplan and train specifically for that person. However, with you, I will not be able to do that. It will not come down to training. It will not come down to gameplanning. It will come down to pure will and determination. It will come down to who wants it more. And I assure you that it is not you.

Redman pauses briefly before continuing.

Redman: However, I still do not understand. I have never expected to be welcomed anywhere within the wrestling world with open arms. Hell, even the federation I helped build from the ground up tried to keep me out, and did so successfully for over a year. To be honest, I did not even want that, but to be put back at square one with an opponent that is nothing but a glorified Redman wannabe, as exciting as it will be to put you to sleep, is damn right depressing in the same respect. Just the simple fact that I have no clue who you are is proof enough that you carry no weight not only in this territory, but in professional wrestling in general.

Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my wrestling career? Beating up on ham and eggers like this chump? Hell, its not even going to be on pay per view. But you know what, that’s okay. Regardless of the stage or the magnitude of the match, it will still be a plenty big enough arena for me to do the one thing that I have wanted to do since making my return to the wrestling world. A big enough stage to stand on so that the whole world can see what I truly think of each and every one of them.

Redman extends his arms forward and flips off the camera. He holds them there for a few seconds before lowering his arms down to where they were.

Redman: To finally be able to tell the world that regardless of what they think of me, that I do not need their approval anymore. That I do NOT need the approval of the professional wrestling brass that constantly hold back the best talent in order to push their friends and subsequent ass kissers. To show everyone that win, lose or draw, that I am the best damn professional wrestler in the world today. And with that said, I am going to start to plant the seeds right here, right now in HardKore World. I have already done this in FTWO, and HKW will be no different. And although you have to beat the best to be the best, I guess this is what I am going to deal with for now. So Gino, listen up.

Redman pauses as the sun continues to go down in the background.

Redman: Gino, I know you have no clue who I am, and personally I could care less who you are. I seen enough of you after the last debacle of a promo. I have accomplished more in the business than you could ever hope to accomplish. And I am just starting to hit my stride in this business. From what I understand, you are on the backstretch of your career, fat and out of shape, and have to rely on name manipulation to get a point across. I mean if you did not bother to tell us every five seconds that you were “goin’ to slit the hillbilly’s throat” or to keep us up on the oh so intriguing storylines of your life, then no one would be watching, or frankly giving a shit less. In this business, you can run your mouth all you want and get a little bit of attention, but until you start finishing some matches not on your back, then what you say or what you have accomplished really have no meaning, especially to someone like me.

Redman slowly creeps closer to the camera as he continues.

Redman: I am telling you right now Gino, just by listening to your latest comments, you should not even bother to show up in a few weeks. You should call the HKW brass and tell him that them are sick with the flu or sickle cell or something. Whatever it takes to get you off of this card because if you do show up, you are going to make my job very easy. You are focused on worms at the bottom of your tequila bottle instead of worrying about you demise in just a few short weeks time. By focusing on things like that, you are only showing me that you think you are going to breeze by the next show with a win, or that you simply just do not care. I hate to break it to you but that is not going to happen. I have been waiting for a long time to expand my career, for this chance, and I am not going to blow it on someone the likes of you. And for you to think that you are going waltz through this match unscaved, is not only a slap in the face of me, but everything that I stand for. But I guess this is what I should expect. You are a “HKW Puerto Rico Superstar.” You are part of the problem that I am the solution to. And in a few short weeks, you will be erased from the equation permanently.

Redman pauses shortly, with a small smile on his worn-down face.

Redman: I do not care about your chains, your electric cattle prods, fire, powder, whips, cuffs or even your famous mist. I do not care about you pathetic attempts at a promo or you piss poor training habits. All I care about is broken bones, anguished screams and the your destruction at the hands of me in just a few short weeks. At the Jose “Buga” Abreu Coliseum, you will become the first of many victims that I lay claim to in HardKore World. You will become an example of the montage that all HKW will have to live by. Fear Nate “The Raptor” Redman.

[Sin City Saint]

John: So... totally gay or just bi-curious?

Lola: I'm not playing this game with you John.

John: But... I mean come on. You know he bites the pillows on occasion...

Lola: I'm not playing.

John: Look at my enormous physique. Look at how bad I am. I haven't been beaten for so many days. Listen prick, we want to play the undefeated while not active game? Do we?

I haven't lost in 8 years if we playing that game.

Suck on it. Redman. Just like you suck the meaty beef stick of your manlove.

Lola: Jesus, John, do you have to be so graphic?

John: No, but I pride myself on precision.

Lola: Or stuff you make-up...

John: ...whatever works.

Lola: He's not even your opponent? Why do you have to talk smack about him?

[John gives a non-commiting shrug.]

John: Why do birds fly? Why do worms eat dirt? Because it's what I do. I see a dildo acting like a dildo and calling himself the Queen of Sheba, I'm pulling back the curtain and revealing the wizard for who he is.

Lola: You're rambling drunk again aren't you?

John: Just slightly buzzed. I got a bunch of free booze from the landlady.

Lola: Are you sure it's free?

John: The truck left it right in front of our door. It's a welcome to the neighborhood present I'm sure.

[An opened case of Johnny Walker sits at John Schmidt's feet.]

Lola: Now the yelling makes sense.

John: Come again.

Lola: John, you dolt. We live on top of a bar! And you thought the truck driver was delivering it to you?

John: Hey, the Puerto Ricans seem friendly enough, they are always smiling at me, and waving.

Lola: And a case of alcohol?

John: Friendly people.

Lola: John, you gotta give this back, and pay for what you've drank.

John: Yeah, yeah... I'm on it.

Lola: John?

John: I said, I'm on it, I'm on it.

Lola: Do even want to know anything about your opponent?

John: Not really...

["Heartless" starts digging through an empty box.]

Lola: I guess he's a pretty well known.

John: Not by me.

Lola: Hardly anybody has heard of _you_. John.

John: Yeah, but they will, and this...

[Pulls out a sheet of paper from the box. Reads it.]

...Trevor B. B? Just an initial? Who the fuck does this cat think he is? Cher? I don't need no last name, just one initial. That's conceited right there. Well, I'm going to pulverize him into a conceited nothing inside the Abreu Coliseum. Pure unadulterated pulpage.

Lola: What are you looking for?

John: Secret Ninja Cash, that I hide away...

[John pulls out a Bible.]

Lola: In the Bible?

John: Not just any Bible.

[John opens it up to show a flask inside a cutout in the pages. He turns the flask open and dumps out a few hundred dollars in tight rolls.]

Lola: Where did you get all that money?

John: You'd be amazed at how many people gave me money when I told them I was leaving the country. Ol' Barnaby was like... "I know where you can hide, feds'll never find ye."

Lola: Isn't Barnaby that senile old man near the tram station who used to masturbate when I walked by?

John: Yeah, he did that when I walked by too. It's sort of his thing. Masturbating hobo.

Lola: And he gave you money?

John: Hell yeah. He gave me a whole stack of 20s. Panhandling, that's a business I'm going to get into when I quit beating down losers like Trevor B and shitty Canadian NBA teams.

Lola: Aren't they in the playoffs this year?

John: With a weakened division. The Clippers could have won 50 with that schedule.

Lola: I don't care.

John: Eh. Off to pay the landlady.

[Fade to high pitched yelling in Spanish.]

[Revolution]

The camera begins to fade in as we see Manson Menendez sitting in a chair as he’s trying to read a set of papers delivered to him and Gino from Rachelle. As we pan around the room, we see Gino Sanchez sharpening his teeth with a strand of barbed wire. He grabs a bottle of Gin and takes a few swigs before going back to his barbed wire.

Manson: Gino that’s one way to ruin your teeth. Are you trying to put stitches in your mouth before the match? I’m telling you now man, you better get your act together.

Once Rachelle shows up and sees this is how you’re training not only am I going to get fired but she’s going to send your ass back to Japan. Are you trying to piss her off?

Gino continues toying with the barbed wire as he stops and glares over at Manson. He puts the strand of barbed wire away in the front pocket of his denim jean jacket which has the sleeves cut off and emblems of dragons and fire on the back of it. Gino takes another drink of Gin and flicks the lighter open as a fireball is shown with the gin coming out of his mouth.

Gino: Rachelle, this, Rachelle that. Damn man get off my ass will you.

Manson: Look man you need to get training, Nate seems to be tougher then you thought.

Gino: You want tough?

Do you really want tough?

Manson, tough is when you’re looking at five to ten for decapitating animals in public and eating raw dead chickens in the streets. Tough is when you wake up after a three day drinking binge and slam a bottle of tequila when you feel like shit. Tough is when you’re training in 105 degree weather for hours on end and that good for nothing bitch won’t give you a break. Don’t talk to me about tough!

Now as for Nate, yeah I heard his damn ramblings and I’ve got something that I want you to get back to him.

Nate, you run your damn mouth about a lack of respect around here and you’re going to take out the garbage?

You run your damn mouth about what you’ve accomplished around the world and the titles you’ve held and the lack of opportunities you’re getting since coming here?

Hey Nate, guess what?

This isn’t your former company and these aren’t your familiar opponents.

Respect?
You want respect?

You’re in a new company, new wrestlers, new bookers.

RESPECT is earned by what you do here in Puerto Rico, in front of these fans, and the victories you gain in this company.

I don’t give a damn what you’ve done around the world and the titles you’ve held, yeah it might look good on your resume but what does that mean here?

NOT A DAMN THING!

Who in this company have you defeated yet?

What titles in Puerto Rico have you won?

What do these fans know about you?

Here’s your answers Nate.

You’ve not defeated anyone here yet.

You’ve not won any titles here yet.

And the fans don’t know a damn thing about you so far, aside of the fact you disgrace them and disrespect them by crying about your lack of respect and running your mouth about hat you’ve done elsewhere.

Manson looks up with a surprised look on his face. A door opens as we see a shadow walking into the room as Gino takes another swig of Gin and spits it onto the floor, rubbing the tip of his snake skin boots into the carpet.

Gino: I could brag about what I’ve done in Japan but the fact remains it doesn’t mean a damn thing. You want your respect so damn bad?

Shut up and put a damn good fight on in the ring, get a victory over me and earn your damn stripes here.

You think I don’t know about a traditionalist?

I was named after the late and great Gino Hernandez. One of the best wrestlers to ever step foot inside a world class wrestling ring in the Sportatorium.

That’s right baby, Dallas, Texas!

Do you watch baseball?

Scott Spiezeo, remember him? Great player from the Anaheim Angels. A star so to speak, earned his name and career.

The guy went to Seattle, bitched about a lack of respect and guess what? Nobody gave a damn because he didn’t do a thing for anyone in Seattle and choked his ass off.

So why don’t you try shutting up and just worrying about your damn match with me.

We’re not your other company, we’re not the same wrestlers and these sure as hell aren’t the same damn fans. Great fans they are, but they’ll chew you up and spit you out in a heartbeat if you stink up the ring.

Let me ask you something Nate, do you know the history of Puerto Rico?

Legends such as Carlos Colon, Abdullah the Butcher, El Bronco, Invader I, the stabbing of Bruiser Brody.

Nate, this isn’t a company for kids to run around in.

We’re talking about having a career and putting on matches in front of blood thirsty fans because that’s what they’ve come to expect.

I don’t care if you’ve been burned, gone through flaming tables, broken glass, that shit doesn’t mean anything to me.

You’ll earn my respect by what you do against me in the ring. Granted you’re not going to win the match, but you might earn my respect.

This is Puerto Rico baby, this is the here and now and everyone has a fresh start and a clean slate. Keep your accomplishments and your resume in your trophy case, but don’t disrespect me, nor these fans with other company bullshit.

They don’t care about that, they care about this company!

These wrestlers!

And what we do in front of them, not what we’ve done around the world.

Gino stops, tosses the bottle of gin across the room and grabs a beat up gym bag as he heads down the hallway.

Manson: Where the hell are you going?

Gino: To go train for the match and shut this wallstreet journal clown up.

Gino disappears down the hall as Manson looks up with a smile. Suddenly a woman walks in with a pair of denim jeans and a red leather sleeveless vest over a white tank top and a set of shades on. She lets her hair down as she grins over at Manson and takes the stack of papers out of his hand and begins to sign them.

Manson: What lit a fire under his ass all of a sudden?

Rachelle: I figured it was just a matter of time before he got off his lazy ass and started training for this match, besides he got a special memo last night.

Manson: What memo was that?

Rachelle: Win or go back to Japan and train for six more months.

Manson: Damn, you’re a bitch.

Rachelle: And so will life for Gino if he lets me down. Besides he hates people who talk about what they’ve done in the past. And we all know what gloating and bragging about your past means.

Manson: What’s that?

Rachelle: That you’re trying to compensate for the lack of something and we all know how Gino feels about boys parading around as men.

Manson: He’s going to kill Nate if that’s the case.

Rachelle: That’s the whole point.

The camera begins to slowly fade out as Manson starts looking at training tapes and Rachelle starts working on the strategies for the match at hand.

[Nate Redman]

I do not even know where to begin.

The scene opens up with Nate Redman standing in the middle of an open field. Redman just shakes his head before continuing.

Redman: There are so many places I could begin. I could start with the simple expression of extreme stupidity that emanates from your mouth every time you open it. I mean, there is no way I can dress this up so I am just going to come out with it. Sharpening your teeth with barbed wire? I mean, who does that? If you want a mouth full of stitches all you had to do was ask. If you wanted to taste your own blood, all you had to do was to wait until our match; you will get plenty of that. I cannot even fathom an explanation as to why anyone would want to do such a thing. Just stupid and pathetic scare tactics.

Redman looks in disbelief at the quality of opponent that he has to face. It is obvious to the Raptor that Gino Sanchez is not worth any effort. However, he continues to walk through the field.

Redman: In addition, you did not stop there. Oh no. You went on with your cheap tricks by telling me that you mutilated animals and ate raw animal flesh in public. Again, I do not see the point. What is supposed to be so tough about mutilated a defenseless animal? Do you think you are cool by cutting up a dog? Am I the only person that just thinks this is plain idiotic? What are you trying to prove?

My only guess is that you think by telling me all this wild shit it will somehow make me feel intimidated. If that is what you are trying to do, you are just wasting your time. Therefore, the only other option is that you are trying to convince yourself that you have what it takes to step into the ring with Nate Redman. That again will be an impossible challenge to do. You know and I know that there is no one in this region, including you that can step into the ring with me. Many have tried and they all have failed. Hardkore World Puerto Rico will be no different. You can kill all the animals and eat raw flesh that you want. You can go on three-day booze benders and train in impossible conditions. However, come our match in a couple of weeks, it will make no difference. They are only idiotic and counterproductive ways of trying to cope with something that you will not be able to deal with: me in the ring.

Decapitating animals and eating raw flesh does not make you extreme. Three day drinking benders does not make you hardcore. The only thing it makes you is legally handicapped mentally.

Redman continues to walk through the field and encounters some trees before continuing.

Redman: I could also address your piss poor arguing skills. I mean, I watched what you had to say several times. I really tried to listen. I put away all distractions. After all, of that I still could not figure out if there was a point to anything you had to say. All it sounded like to me was a bunch of random comments to try and keep yourself up for the match because deep down you know that you will not have enough to last in the ring with me. Moreover, to be honest, you are positive self-talk needs some major work. One second you were talking about how you got your name from some crusty old goat and then the next second you were talking about an insignificant hack baseball player. I mean if there was a point that I was missing please call and tell me. I think you were trying to talk about me complaining but it was hard to say. If you were, I do not care about a never was wrestler and an average at best ball player. They mean nothing to me. They are NOT me. Neither of these men deserve any respect, and from what I have seen from you, neither do you. Next time you try to make a point, there is a thing in the English language called the transition. Google them, learn about them, use them. You will thank me later.

However, there was something that I wanted to get back to something you had mentioned that I did find interesting. Respect. While the topic is on my mind, let us get into that. In addition, to be honest, respect and tradition is a large reason why I am in the locale that I am in right now: a graveyard.

For the first time we see where Redman is at as he passes several tombstones. Redman reaches a splintered, battered park bench before taking a seat.

Redman: But the exact reason why this particular graveyard is so special I will get into just a little bit later. Gino, of all the things that you vomited out the last time you were on television, you did manage to say one intelligent thing: You have to earn respect. It is just not given.

A sly smile slides across the face of Redman before he continues.

Redman: I have accomplished things in my career that only people in this business can dream about, including you Gino. I will not go through them again, and despite your best efforts to argue otherwise you know that they are important to the here and now. Anyone that has gone through the wars that I have gone through and defeated the competitors that I have would have earned respect in anyone’s eyes. Anyone’s eyes except the common wrestling fan. You see, the wrestling fan of today is a bloodthirsty piece of shit. The relationship they hold with the professional wrestler is extremely one sided. They pay for a ticket with this week’s unemployment check and expect a great show. When I deliver, they do not applaud you for your efforts, they only expect more. You smash someone with a chair; they want you to use a bat. When you use a bat, they want you to cover it in barbed wire. When you do that, they want you to light it on fire. Nothing is ever good enough for these Cretans. The wrestling fan only wants more blood, more sweat, and more tears. You can never quench their insatiable appetite for your blood when they know nothing of battle. They make me sick.

You tell me that I should not disgrace and disrespect the wrestling fans because they are what makes the sport of wrestling what it is today. I can only agree with half of that statement. They do make the sport of wresting what it is today, but that is the exact reason why I disrespect them. This is exactly the point why I disgrace them. They have driven the sport effectively into the ground. They have killed the sport of professional wrestling that I used to know and love. They have turned it into a garbage fest only so that they can live vicariously through the warriors that put their bodies on the line each and every week. These fans in Hardkore World Puerto Rico might be different people but their actions will be the same as every other wrestling fan. They will beg, plead, and scream for our heads and we will give them to them. Moreover, what will they give us? Nothing but screams and jeers for more. They will chew you up, used you for what they need you, and then spit you out when they are done with you. The moment you leave this sport, they will forget you and drop you off at the curb like yesterday’s garbage. They do not care about us or the sport and for that, I sure as hell do not care about them.

Redman gets up from the bench and slowly begins to walk forward as he continues.

Redman: And as the quality of the fan has deteriorated over the years, so has the tradition of this sport. The days of the Ric Flair’s, the Hulk Hogan’s, and the Bruiser Brody’s are long gone. Now the sport of professional wrestling is about one thing and one thing only: the almighty dollar. The push of the fans for more has only driven the greed of the wrestling’s owners to ask for more money. Moreover, do we wrestlers see a cut of that newly added revenue? Hell no! It goes right into the pockets of the suits, not to the people that earned that cash. However, I am straying from my point. To me, it is not about the money, it is about the loss of respect that I have for this sport that at one time I loved dearly. In addition, it is my want for that sport to return to the prominence that it once had is why I am here. Yet, I am not naïve enough to think that it will be beneficial for this sport to go back to the days of old. As much as I think the sport needs a change, I do not think the sport needs to regress back into the “glory days” of the sport. The days where drugs ran rampant. The days were people like you Gino would go on three-day benders and then try to compete in the ring. The days where the wrestlers were nothing more but indentured servants to the company brass. What I call for is a new professional wrestling. A sport that the wrestlers can be proud of. A sport where we get what we rightly deserve. A change that is desperately needed.

The wrestling tradition of today is one of the best-kept secrets in the sport. It looks alive and well but anyone that is in the know, anyone that has been in the sport knows that is not true. It was dead and buried a long time ago. So much lying, cheating, backstabbing, and politicking has polluted what this sport is supposed to be. The old tradition is dead and my goal is to be the leader of the new tradition of the sport of professional wrestling. I will bear the torch for what this sport is supposed to be like. I will be the man that cleanses this sport of all its sins and return it to the prominence that it once had. I have been doing this since my return, but today I am here to officially declare war on the state of professional wrestling. And Gino, my war will start with you. And that is what brings me here today to this cemetery.

The camera pans around and reveals what Redman has been sitting by during this entire promo. He was sitting next to the gravesite of Charles Wolfe. Redman walks up to the tombstone and smiles. Without turning around, Redman continues.

Redman: Here lies Charles Wolfe. I know many of you are wondering who Charles Wolfe is. Gino, I know you are not as you were named after this man. Charles Wolfe was affectionately known as Gino Hernandez. His ring moniker, the “Handsome Half-Breed” was the professional wrestler that Gino Sanchez has idolized. He was trained by Jose Lothario and even teamed with him. But Jose knew that Gino was not worth a shit and turned on him, eventually defeating him in a hair versus hair match. Gino moved on to World Class Championship Wrestling to feud with the Von Erichs and once again came up short. Gino’s career highlight was his team with Chris Adams called the “Dynamic Duo” which drew him the most revenue. Stupidly, Gino turned on his partner and the two feuded with Gino once again coming out on the bottom. Gino wanted revenge, or one with any dignity would hope, but did not show for several shows. He was later found in his hotel room, dead of an overdose of cocaine. He sat in the hotel room in a position that he was quite used to from his career, on his back for three days before he was found. Gino Hernandez died not only a loser, but a coked up loser. And that is why I am here in front of his grave. I am here to finally lie to rest the current state of professional wrestling. And there is only one way that would justly fit a piece of crap like Charles Wolfe.

Redman reaches towards his zipper and pulls it down. After a few seconds, a yellow stream begins to flow from the middle of Redman’s body and onto the tombstone of Charles Wolfe. This continues for a few moments before Redman shakes it twice and finishes his business. He zips back up and turns around to face the camera.

Redman: I am the man that lights and holds the torch for the new path of professional wrestling. I piss on the fans. I piss on tradition. And I piss on the current state of the sport that I love. Gino, this just shows you how serious I am. This is how you make a statement. You now must realize that my presence here is much more than any one wrestling match can mean. You will become an important part of history. You will become an example of what I plan to do with anyone that crosses me on my path to greatness. On this sport’s path to greatness. Gino, you may think you can win this match, but a wise man once told me that everybody has a chance to be wrong. You will get that opportunity when you stand across me in the center of the ring. Congratulations Gino, in just a few weeks time, I am going to make you famous.

[Revolution]

The camera fades in to see Gino sitting in his own private gym with a bottle of gin in one hand and a pouch of red man tobacco in the other. As he takes a few swigs of the sweet gin, he puts a wad of tobacco in his mouth as he shakes his head and bends down to lace up his boots. We see blood stains on his taped wrists as he begins to laugh.

Gino Sanchez: For someone who comes across all sophisticated and talks down to this company, you’re sure a dumbass you know that Nate?

Are you so worried about our match that you’ve sunk down to trying to dissect my very words? Come on now, I’m speaking my mind it’s not an English essay you freak. But that’s ok, think what you want because it’s your assumption that will be your downfall, not what I do to you in the ring.

You think sharpening my teeth is a scare tactic? If I wanted to do that, I’d have claimed to be related to you and dressed up all corny and shit and started drinking milk. But you see Nate that’s not my way.

I’m a tobacco chewing, liquor drinking, woman beating, psychotic man that’s not behind bars and living my dream. It’s not a scare tactic Nate, it’s just the truth. I am what I am. Not everyone had a silver spoon in their life.

I’m sure you grew up in some great house, a pampered little kid you were with a bitch for a mother and some wallstreet banker as your father. Hey man that’s great but obviously you never got your ass beat as a kid because you seem to think you’re just the cock of the walk, but the truth is you’re just another cocksucker trying to use every thing you can verbally to frustrate me.

But it won’t happen because I’m still going to drink my gin, chew my chaw and prepare for this match. I want to thank you for the comments however, since I have no television set around me at the moment, your words are the closest thing I’ve got for a means of entertainment.

You see Nate, it’s not about a debate. Last I knew this wasn’t a political run but keep coming up with everything you can to reassure yourself that it’s ok. I mean as kids our parents tell us there’s no boogeyman under our beds, but you must believe in them. I can hear the trembling in your voice that you’re not ready for the uncertainty that is Gino Sanchez.

I’m really starting to think that you just don’t comprehend what’s in store for you.

Gino takes another swig of gin and spits some tobacco juice on the floor as he uses his teeth to tear the tape off of his wrists. He looks at the bottle of gin and grins as he takes another swig, almost vomiting this time but he holds it in and keeps on with his routine.

Gino: And just when I thought you couldn’t make me laugh any harder, you continue to prove me wrong.

If I wanted a history wrestling on wrestling I’d have asked a resource that was worth respecting, but you had to go on your little tantrum about things I already know about.

You can piss on me, you can piss on the fans, you can piss on one man’s legacy, hey man we’ve all got a fetish and I guess pissing on things is yours. That’s fine I just hope the company does blood tests around here because God only knows where your hands have been.

One thing is for certain about our match, we’re going to steal the show and we’ll make history. But this time it won’t be a man who dies in the locker room, no Nate far from it. I intend to have the fans see a man die in the ring. Maybe that was wrong of me, but quite frankly a piece of shit like yourself doesn’t deserve a graceful comment.

You still fail to comprehend it’s not about what you’ve done because you’ve not done a god damned thing here in this company and until you do nobody gives a shit about you or your past accomplishments.

Do you hear the other guys oohing and ahhing about your past? I sure as hell don’t, that’s because nobody cares. It doesn’t matter about titles, or your upbringing or peoples careers you’ve ended.

But I do intend on getting quite a raise after this match. Because this company doesn’t need the likes of some fake ass upper class piece of shit trying to look down on everyone such as yourself. You’re only trying to compensate for the lack of a mediocre sized sack, something that you’ll never know the feeling of.

I thought you might be worth training for but now I just flat out don’t care. You don’t fear glass and tables and fire and such and I’m glad you don’t. I want you to get the ass beating that your parents should’ve given you as a kid.

I want to have your teeth crunching down on broken glass, I want to stuff barbed wire so far down your throat that you start to think twice about ever putting down the guys in this company again. Hell, maybe I’ll even get the chance to rip the flesh off your back and use your spine for a blood instrument.

You fail to see that I’m not here for titles, I’m not here for victories. I’m here to keep the tradition alive in this great land and that’s the tradition of a blood fest. Your blood will be smeared on everyone’s body and you’ll finally have a legacy down here in Puerto Rico. An over rated piece of shit that nobody but himself gave a damn about finally resting in piece.

I don’t see others calling out your name, nor will they. People don’t give a shit about Nate and then won’t down here. You want to be some fake ass blue blood aristocrat who looks down on the hard working, blood thirsty men in this company by all means live that way. But take your over inflated ego to another company because there’s no room for people like here. Believe me if I don’t get the chance to snap your neck and put you away for good, someone’s going to and it’s just a matter of time.

Then this company will all join together in unison and piss on you.

After all Nate you want to be remembered and have a name made for yourself right?

Will for one night all of us will sing we are the world and take a flaming shit on your body, your name and your self proclaimed lack of a legacy.

See Nate, you’re just like the tooth fairy, easter bunny and santa.

A figment of ones fucking imagination.

You may be a legacy, you maybe a star but the only place that’s ever happened is in your own bloody head. So maybe while you’re down here waiting to get your ass kicked and look like a fool for losing to me, maybe you should check into the medical staff down here.

Get some pills for your delusional state of mind.

Get the mental help you need and maybe ……………..MAYBE me and the rest of the guys will chip in on getting you a white jacket so you can be strapped in and talking to yourself about your own self proclaimed greatness.

Lord knows the only person dumb enough to believe your self proclaimed bullshit is you.

[i]The camera fades out to see Gino throwing weights up over his head as he’s determined to put an end to the bullshit that is Nate the Nobody.

[Nate Redman]

You obviously have no clue who I am.

A static picture comes to life as it transitions into a live camera feed. It is focused on a figure sitting on the doorstep of a rundown decrepit old house. The grey paint on the outside has been chiseled and weathered away by the constant chipping of Time and the door hangs off one of its hinges, swinging gently to and fro. A significant amount of the upper floor of the house has been beaten away completely, leaving an archaic, ancient ruins kind of appearance. The roof is made up only of a few tiles and some cheap quick-fix thatching to block out excess rain. The numerous holes and openings in it signified that it failed miserably at its job. The wooden windowsills are rotten and derelict, covered in a light green moss.

The camera focuses now on the figure who sits there, hunched up with his forehead resting on his knees. His hands are holding the back of his head and have gripped several strands of jet black hair as if in aggravation. He is wearing muddied blue jeans with rips and scuffs plastering them and a long sleeved black top with a very notable rip across the left forearm. Lining the rip is the sight of dark brownish-red dried blood. The cut is especially visible due to the way the top is stretched against the man’s arm because of the positioning of his hands. It looks fairly deep and sparkles in the afternoon Sun, a bright crimson red. Apparently though, the man hasn’t even noticed the cut, nor the camera for that matter. He is muttering quietly to himself in a rather strained tone of voice.

You obviously do not know where I came from…

As he speaks, the man runs his hands through his hair firmly, almost ripping out much of it.

You obviously do not know how much I have sacrificed to get here…

The camera zooms in a bit closer to the figures face and it is clear that it’s trembling quite vividly.

But soon you will find out…

The man stops muttering and looks up, finally noticing the cameras presence. As light rests softly on his run-down face he locks himself in a momentary pleading stare, his eyes full of emotion and remorse. His brow is creased and his bloodshot eyes carry heavy purple bags underneath. It almost looks as though all life has been sucked straight from his face. A grey scar highlights the age that his face is showing.

How serious I am…

Nate Redman begins, seemingly taking his time to consider his wording.

Redman: Gino, congratulations. You have officially pissed me off. Within a couple of words you have made your destruction necessary for me. There will be nothing I will not do to accomplish this goal. There will be nothing that I will not be willing to sacrifice to make sure that you will NEVER be seen in Hardkore World again. What could you have said that has affected me so much? Was it any verbal onslaught that you laid on me? No. It was the simple fact that you continue to disrespect me by not doing your homework. That you continue to come out here in between drinking binges to talk about something that you have no clue about. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth? Let me tell you a little story…

Redman shakes his head with a disgusted look on his face. Something seems to have really gotten to him recently and certainly, something has been eating away at him.

Redman: I’ll keep this short and sweet and in bits that even you can understand. I was born into a broken home. I never knew my parents. Before I was old enough to remember them, they left me for dead in a dumpster. Unfortunately for you, I was found before that happened. I was bounced around in foster homes. I was told that I had an attitude problem. I was violent. I did not like following rules. I was eventually sent to an orphanage. The state thought that this would straighten me out. It only gave me a platform to fine-tune my rage. I enjoyed doing not only physical but psychological damage to the other kids in the orphanage. I ran a pretty successful smuggling business in the orphanage. Eventually I was caught and thrown out onto the streets. On the streets I was able to move from a bachelor’s degree of smuggling to a master’s degree of money collecting. I was good. Damn good. I worked my way up and gained favor in the Outfit’s eyes. And then they finally realized that they should send me for my doctorate’s degree in…making people disappear. I had an unusual ease with it. I made a lot of money, and with that money, I was able to get the proper training. Finally I was able to go legitimate. I was finally able to go into a business where my apt for violence would not be looked upon with distain, but I would be applauded for my efforts. Enter the world of professional wrestling.

You see Gino, I have broke my back to get to the point of where I am at, and I will not let some insignificant worm like yourself spit all over it. You have crossed the line.

Redman stands up now, his face beginning to go a dark shade of red and his blood begins to boil throughout him again.

Redman: Gino, you have gotten out of hand. I’m not saying that I’ve never gone beyond what is reasonable…that is the way I am. I do what it takes to get the job done. I have played the mind games of all mind games. I have beat up family members, made opponent’s relatives piss themselves, and I have kidnapped children, yes children, to gain a psychological advantage. But Gino, I always manned up and faced my opponents directly in the ring. I took my licks from them, just like I have my entire life, but I have always broke my back and it has always paid off. I have always come out on top.

So I may be a little cocky. I can admit that. But I damn well deserve to be. Everything that I have accomplished I deserve to be cocky. I deserve to be proud and for you to come and try to discredit that makes me sick. It breaks any code of honor that this business ever holds. Instead of battling me like a warrior, you want to try and take underhanded shots that are nothing but nonsense. Maybe you were trying to get on my radar. If that was the case consider the job done. But you do not realize the implications that has. Before this complete lack of respect, you were going to go down in defeat. But now that you are on my radar, you are going to be made an example. You are going to get EXACTLY what you want. You are going to get extreme. You are going to get hardcore. You are going to bleed. You are going to suffer. You are going to go to the hospital. And there is no amount of booze that is going to ease your pain.

Redman stands up now, his face beginning to go a dark shade of red and his blood begins to boil throughout him again.

Redman: But I am not going to stop there. No, Gino, like I said, this is now personal. Defeating you in the squared circle is not going to be enough. You wanted to see the true Nate Redman, and you are going to get just that. Once you are in the hospital and several days have past and you wonder why no one has visited you, I suggest that you turn the television on. Put it on the six o’clock news. You will see a large mugshot of your friend Manson Menendez. And then you will see just how proficient I was at my old job. Just like fucking David Blaine I am going to make that cocksucker disappear. But still I am not done yet.

Nate Redman reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a picture. He looks at the picture with a perverse stare. Without lifting his stare, he continues.

Redman: Then the real fun begins. While you sit in the hospital, helpless, friendless, I am going to take away the last thing that you have: hope. How am I going to do that? I am going to go after someone that is quite special in your life. Someone that has helped you get to this point in your career. Yet someone that has effectively fed you to the lions.

The camera pans around Redman reveals who is on the picture: Rachelle.

Redman: Gino, I will not attack right away. Oh no. After she sees what I do to you in that ring, she is going to need some consoling. I am going to show her my “softer” side. I am going to be there at her side. It may take some time, but it will make it that much sweeter. I will win her over. I will show her how a true woman should be treated. And then I am going to show her my… “harder” side if you catch my drift. I am going to brutalize her time and time again. I am going to put her in that bed right next to you and although she will be battered and bruised, she will not be able to help but crave more. She will want me in places and positions that you cannot even fathom. She will want me to damage her again.

Redman pauses to smile sadistically. His eyes, previously so lifeless, have begun to transform, swelling with perverse hatred, rage and maliciousness that we have not seen before. Staring gravely at the camera he resumes what he was saying.

Redman: Gino, you have made the biggest mistake of your life. You have crossed over to the point of no return. The wheels are in motion and there is nothing you can do about it. And I cannot fucking wait to ruin your life.

[Revolution]

The camera opens upw with Gino sitting on a torn up sofa. Next to him we see a violin, some cheese, wine bottles, a piano, a fiddle, and a cowboy hat. Gino appears to be eating a worm from the tequila bottle as he smiles and fights off the laughter.

Gino: Wow, if you’re not just the typical run down yolko huh? Man if it’s that easy to get under your boxers I can’t wait to see what this does to you.

Gino starts to sing with the banjo in his hand.

Why do you treat me this way, you don’t know me, you don’t know me ……..

Eric McNeely: Damn Nate, you’d make a great song writer ya know that? So let’s see if I understand what you’re saying now. I guess instead of Mr. Silverspoon you’re now mr. back alleyway guy huh? Ok well let’s see.

I didn’t do my homework on you? Didn’t know I was in school.

I pissed you off? That’s just too funny man, you’re upset because …….

Once again Gino starts to sing.

Sometime’s you wanna go where everybody knows your name ………and they’re always glad you came.

Gino: Sorry Nate but there’s no place around these parts that anyone knows your name and we’ll be happy when you leave.

R E S P E C T ….Nate you don’t mean a damn thing to me.

You were born into a broken home huh? I guess you were to damn poor to fix it, eh?

Gino grabs the fiddle and starts jamming out to redneck tracks as he’s just now laughing out of control. He gives the finger to the camera and wipes a fake tear from his eye.

Gino: So you’re just another typical redneck baby huh? I mean your mother must’ve been a whore, you’re father a drunk so you think that gives you an excuse to be some bad ass and you’re anything but that. Hell now the world knows what an abortion gone wrong is…….because you’re the poster child of that.

You bounced around foster homes, boo hoo get a dog and crying your eyes out ya overgrown baby. I mean you’re so proud about being a bully and a thief, wow man what’s your encore, doing the country guards with your ass bend over and a bar of ivory soap?

Gino gets up and tosses down a piece of paper. He hops over it back and forth a few times and holds out some cheese to the camera.

Gino: I thought you’d want some of this to go along with all of that whining you’re doing there gutter boy. I’ll cross any damn line I want to, and it’s all so funny. Throwing you off your “A” game is easier then I thought.

I don’t care if the pope poked you as a kid, I don’t care if all they fed you was oatmeal, you’re crack smoking hippy parents don’t mean a damn thing to me, nor your “life in the hardknocks” because you’re a joke. How in the hell can I take you seriously? Your life sounds like a damn soap opera and I have to admit, a really terrible one.

For the last time you walking fetus, I don’t care about your life, or how rough you had it or what you think you’re going to do to me. The sad fact is you’re nothing more then an insignificant bleeding anal cunt who is trying to talk so big and bad when you’re not.

You’re just pissed because it’s been years since you got poked from behind in the orphanage and you’re having anal withdrawls, well I’m sorry for your loss but get the hell over yourself. I mean I had to laugh when you started turning red, I guess the kool-aid man is your idol huh?

Lack of respect, blah blah blah, there’s a reason for that. I don’t need to sing you a song about how your mother was a whore, your father raped sheep and out of wedlock you’re walking fetus ass was born, no I don’t know need to sing that tune.

I don’t need to run my mouth about orphanages and kidnapping kids, god what are you a damn pedophile? Beating up family, pissing on people? Man I guess bestiality is your appetizer eh?

The fact is I’m going to do my talking in the ring, but maybe we can find you some Hispanic soap opera to tell your story on, because good god almighty Oprah would laugh at your sorry ass, even Dr. Phil would just tell you to go take a leap.

So here’s my advice to you nate “I’m a walking fetus” redskin.

If you can wipe your tears for a few minutes I’ve got some very simple instructions for you.

First off, go out and buy a guy, as long as it’s capable of causing pain and blood I implore you to go do that.

Secondly, put some bullets into the chamber, they’ll come in handy.

Three, closer your eyes Nate, say ahhhhh and tilt your head back.

Fourth, put your finger on the trigger.

Five, close your mouth like you’re giving a blowjob, you know the kind that you gave the other kids in the orphanage so they wouldn’t beat you up and take your oatmeal.

And finally ….SIX. Now this one is very important.

SQUEEZE THE DAMN TRIGGER!

Gino smiles as he takes another swig of tequila.

Gino: If life has been so hard on you, then why don’t you do the world a favor and die already?

I believe it runs in the family, after all your parents were so disgusted in how you turned out they thought better of raising up a wasted sperm cell like you and they took their own damn lives.

Lord knows I would if I had to claim your sorry ass.

But Nate, you tried to be funny and play mind games?

Gino takes another swig of tequila and wipes his mouth. This time the laughter stops as he gets a small look of seriousness in his eyes. He tosses everything off of the table and begins to sharpen a set of blades that without question will be brought to the ring with him.

Gino: You can talk about Manson all you want because quite frankly, he’ll just fuck you up in the parking lot and call it a day.

You can make your comments about the hospital, quite frankly I’m ok with that.

But you try and threaten me with Rachelle?

Kid, that’ll never happen.

First off you don’t have the brains to be that stupid, then again do fetus’s have brains?

Mark my words, make one move on her and you’re right, it’ll be my last match in Puerto Rico because I’ll find the biggest group of Puerto Rican thugs to ass rape you with barbed wire and chickens until every ounce of blood runs out of your mouth and they fuck you dry.

You said that I was crossing the line.

You said that I was taking things too far?

No Nate, I’m just getting started and so help me God if one hair is touched upon her beautiful head, I’ll make sure that every drag queen in this country has a shot at gagging you and tying you up so they can have their way.

You want to play?

You want to get dirty?

You want to get hardcore?

Congratulations Nate, you’re no longer going to have withdrawals because I’m going to make sure that you get to relive your childhood in one night.

By the way kid, go visit the cemetery and tell your folks hi for me. Maybe I’ll just see if I can dance upon their grave. Lord knows it’ll be the highlight of their life after having to spit you out between her web infested legs.

Fade to drinking and two-stepping all over “crossing the line”.

[The Blackness]

PROMOS..... CLOSED! Matches will start being posted as of tomorrow.