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|Hopper||Posted on May 20 2011, 06:17 AM|
17- Tyrone "Purple" Hayes *SCWE VOLUNTEER HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION*
[The King of Squared Circle Wrestling Entertaining and current Volunteer State Heavyweight champion, Tyrone "Purple" Hayes, is lounging in a plush purple throne, his left leg draped over an arm rest as his red headed lackey, "Mr. America" Ilya Olenskaya, fans King Tyrone with a long feathered fanning apparatus. Meanwhile, Page Hamilton is sitting on the floor, poking the ground with a stick. A yawn escapes Tyrone before he acknowledges the camera.]
TPH: Goodness! It seems that I, the precious vitae of SCWE, has lost a match!
[Page Hamilton looks up and then goes back to poking the ground.]
TPH: I know that my wonderful and loyal subjects will tell me I was hornswaggled. My faithful serfs will point out that my "loss" was the product of a nefarious plot by the Fulcrum of Fear: Young, Darring and that wayward youngster: Duke Adder.
[Sitting up, Tyrone motions for Page Hamilton to dust the King of SCWE off. Hamilton sighs, then does his appointed duty. Tyrone pats the boy on the head before shoving Hamilton out of camera view.
TPH: A plot! A nefarious plot! An expected ruse by Young and his man servant, Adder! Do not be fooled by their supposed spat! The two, Adder and Young, hope to overthrow your rightful sovereign! Their vile black plots and probable experimentation with black magic and other, um, scarier things at overnight camp, will not bear fruit! The two vile fellows plot and scheme but who do they want on the throne if not the noble and giving King Tyrone?
[Here it comes...]
TPH: None other than the black blooded usurper: Sean Darring!
[Didn't see that coming, did you? The camera zooms out to see Ilya looking dense and Page Hamilton poking the ground yet again, then being elbowed by someone and hvaing a terrible fake shocked look come across his face.]
TPH: I know! This, this... commoner, dare raise arms against the benevolent King Tyrone - he who reigns through the glorious benediction of the Lord in heaven! That Lord being...
[Tyrone reaches into his cape and produces a box filled with questionable "meat" snacks proclaiming "new, amazing escargot and fish egg flavor".]
TPH: ...Fatty BouyZ Meat Snax! King Tyrone would nary have smelled the throne... well, smelled the throne instead of one of those smelly challengers, without the amazing curative properties of Fatty BouyZ Meat Snax! Fatty BouyZ Meat Snax is America's favorite food facsimile and can be used as building material or as radiation shielding with its incredible lead content! Fatty BouyZ Meat Snax - we put the faux in terrific!
[Putting his pitch man prop away, Tyrone goes back to the task at hand.]
TPH: Where was I? *mumbling and going over lines again* Got it!
[Our hero in purple smiles at the camera, then remembers he is supposed to look determined.]
TPH: Fear not, fair subjects! For the scoundrel Darring gets his at Ground Zero! Darring, you have proven you are a schemer, a trickster, a rogue, and a knave! You may have wrestling accumen but you do not have the regal bearing of a man such as myself nor the purple blood flowing through your veins that makes being champion a destiny. Your game of thrones has been bested! You and your fellow conspirators thought to have special stipulations placed on our match at Ground Zero! Instead, the heroic, handsome and, uh, helpful?
[Tyrone mutters to himself.]
TPH: ...yeah, let's go with helpful.
[Another cheese filled smile.]
TPH: Instead the heroic, handsome and helpful Tyrone Hayes foiled your scheme by convincingly allowing Brian Young to cheat me out of a victory that was all but assured. In addition to foiling your bigger plot, I also forced the hand of your third gunman! Damond Addler, you are no longer welcome in the Kingdom of Tyrone for your falsehoods. Instead of defeat, I actually won!
TPH: I won! I won the right to prevent Sean "EVIL BABY KILLER" Darring any excuse to fall back on when his grab for power crumbles. Sean "I KICK PREGNANT LADIES IN THE STOMACH" Darring has nothing to fall back on when his legacy crumbles! The Purple Blood that bubbles in these noble veins alerted me to your plan! I used your plan against you! I turned your trap against you by making sure that this is a fair fight with fair rules, Darring. My blessed blood is not spilled so easily, Darring.
[Jumping up, Tyrone's construction paper crown falls off his head. Muttering to himself, Tyrone directs Ilya to pick it up and the red headed Russian happily places the purple construction paper crown (which seems to be decorated with the Lucky Charms shapes) back on Tyrone's head.]
TPH: For all your rabbling rousing, Darring. For all your braggadoccio, Darring. For all your talk of legends - you still know nothing of what it takes to create a legacy. Be thankful _YOUR_ sovereign is so kind, forgiving and generous. For you see, I will teach you a lesson on a subject you seem to be sorely lacking knowledge on, Seany-poo. At Ground Zero, Darring: you will learn the proper respect!
[Huffing and stomping away, the interview ends with Page Hamilton still poking the ground.]
18- Stephen Sage
(Scene opens to a darkened room. We cannot really make out much of the room itself. A dim shaded window provides the only interior light. As the camera pans to the right, we can see a shadowy figure seated in the corner to the right of the window. We can make out that the person is shirtless, and has a towel covering his head, with his face obscured. He is rubbing his hands together before he begins to speak.)
Man: So this is it...Ground Zero approaches. A day many in the SCWE have been waiting for. A day that will perhaps change the face of the world of professional wrestling. It is certainly one that I have been waiting for, quite intently. You see, for some this day will be one of pursuing gold...chasing a dream. For others it will be about making a name for themselves...seeking glory. Climbing the ladder of success. Trying to impress men in suits. Trying to win the adulation of the fans.
(He pauses. It is obvious he is breathing somewhat heavily...though probably not from exhaustion. It is something else. Anger, perhaps?)
Man: I am not one of them. I will not be present at Ground Zero to seek gold or glory. I will only be there in the pursuit of a single endeavor. I will be there for only one cause. It is simply..."revenge!" For I have been wronged, time and time again...by a single man. This single man wishes to mold SCWE into his own macabre creation. This single man manipulates those around him, and brings nothing but a negative energy. This single man is a worthless being, but one to be reckoned with, none the less.
Balogun! That name has become a curse upon me. My days and nights are filled with thoughts of his destruction. And at Ground Zero...I will have it. Revenge will be mine!
(With that, the figure throws the towel off his head, and we can see that it is obviously the young rookie and former Television Champion, Stephen Sage. However, this is not the Stephen Sage we are used to seeing. He reaches over and slowly raises the blind up the window, just enough to expose his face. Gone is the short hair from his head...he is now completely shaved bald. That is not all...a scar still remains on his left cheek, from the attack by Balogun and Inkanyamba. Further, his eyes now...they look different. As if to match his name, they now look...green.)
Sage: Do I look different to you? I should. Where I was once youthful and exuberant, no more. Not now. Perhaps never again. At Ground Zero, Balgoun, you will be faced with a different competitor. Yes, I am still Stephen Sage. But I won't be defending one title or chasing another. I will not be there to make my ways up the ranks of competition. I will be there seeking revenge...and I will bring great violence upon you in the process!
I am willing to put myself on the line, once again. I am willing to give up a chance at a future Television Title shot. A chance to regain MY title, even though another wears it now! I am going to come to Ground Zero, and I am going to HURT you, Balogun. I am going to cause you great pain. And there will be no escape. We will be in the cage...the cell. Yes, it really will be hell in a cell for you, Balogun.
(Sage stares intently as the camera zooms in, slowly, upon his face.)
Sage: Two men enter, one man leaves. What could be more wonderful? I think it is a perfect way to settle things, don't you? Just you and me. No Inkanyamba, no other interlopers. No Fitzgerald to further complicate things. And after I defeat you in that metal structure...you will be done! Your career in SCWE will be FINISHED! And for that, I am willing to risk everything. My body, my health, my chance at reclaiming MY belt. It is all worth it in order to punish you. To make you suffer.
(Sage stands up, almost visibly shaking with rage, and a scowl coming across his mouth.)
Sage: Balogun...at Ground Zero, you and me, one on one. It's what you've been begging for, with attack after attack you've waged upon me. It's what I've wanted since you put me in that hospital. And at Ground Zero...remember one thing is all too clear. I'm Stephen Sage...and NO ONE can stop me...
(Fade out as Sage continues rubbing his hands together and scowling.)
[...Well at least its current.]
[Really? For all the money a person shills out, one would think these offices could afford to renew their damned subscriptions! Why... did you want to read Womanís world? NO. Iím not interested in that particular publication. Iím not. Not at all. Itís the principle of it! Thomas Grissom thumbs through sparse magazine collection in the waiting room of his psychiatristís office. The senior road agent is still wearing a neck brace from the last brutal beating the wrestling veteran received at the hands of The Motherland. Grissomís bloodshot eyes reveal how little sleep he has gotten since The Beast first stole the television title. Fitzgerald wonít stop calling. Grissom is so tired. The sleep deprivation is taking its toll. Everywhere he looks...]
Inkanyamba: The doctor will see you now.
[WHAT THE HELL? No. The receptionist is a mousy blond woman. Not a flamboyantly dressed seven foot African man. So tired. Everywhere Grissom goes is the same. His ears must be playing tricks on him. Exhausted, Thomas struggles to get out of his chair. Staggering over to the shrinkís door, Thomas Grissom is greeted by the skull faced visage of his arch nemesis.]
Dr. Pedowski: Hello Mr. Grissom.
[Spitting image. I swear. So tired. Thomas Grissomís eyes are also playing tricks on him. The doctor looks JUST LIKE that massive freak. Are you saying they look alike? NO. The senior road agent didnít say that... he didnít think that. That sounds racist, and heís not. He knows that Doctor Pedowski is an elderly polish psychiatrist, and NOT a malevolent swenka whose sole purpose is to ruin poor Thomasí life... while wearing really nice shoes. This is all in his head... but there is a striking resemblance. Swallowing hard, the wide eyed official sheepishly enters the office.]
Dr. Pedowski: You look like youíve seen a ghost.
Thomas Grissom: Everywhere I look heís there... taunting me... mocking me...
Dr. Pedowski <chuckle>: You donít waste time.
Thomas Grissom: You charge by the hour.
Dr. Pedowski <forced smile>: Have a seat.
[The couch. Holding his neck to try and further support the brace, Thomas Grissom awkwardly lays back against it. The psychiatrist wanders into the background. #thump# Barely able to move his neck, Thomas has a hard time following Pedowskiís movements, and quickly resigns himself to staring up at the ceiling. They should dust. #thump#]
Dr. Pedowski: So this man you keep seeing?
Thomas Grissom: A co-worker that makes every day miserable. ...Every day. When I first started with SCWE, thatís my wrestling promotion, when I first started, I was excited. Helping to shape a new product, put my stamp on it. #thump# Huh? ...So they tell me to bring in some of my friends to help fill out the locker room, a few old hands to enhance the new talent. I got him the job. #thump# (tries to look up but canít, gives up) Can you believe it? I was the one that put in the good word to get that miserable piece of crap hired! #thump# What was that?
Dr. Pedowski: What was what? Continue.
Thomas Grissom: ...So I get him the job. I figure he can do his old shtick, running around like a dumb animal and scaring children. Itís really all that stupid jerkís good for. We give him a plastic spear, and act like we brought this missing link over from the wilds of Africa. All the best routines are like that... play yourself... and as far as Iím concerned heís basically a stupid beast. He was playing himself. Go with what you know. He does stupid monster well... but does he go with the winning formula?
Thomas Grissom: Youíre not hearing that?
Dr. Pedowski: What should I be hearing?
Thomas Grissom: Never mind. #thump# So the jerk acts like Iím being racist or something... Iím not. So the [whoooa] doesnít play ball, actually thinks he pulled one over on me by not drooling all over himself. Way to go ass[whoa]. Can you believe the audacity? Outrageous! The scum. We get into a little scuffle, and admittedly he did come out on top... Iíve been retired a few years, Iím rusty. Back in the day I used to kick his ass all the time! ...I felt embarrassed. #thump# Rather than let corporate fire the [whoa], I keep him in the league, string him along, figure as long as heís under contract I have a chance at some REAL revenge. ...Only...
Dr. Pedowski: What happened?
Thomas Grissom: My boss... he took it to far. #thump# Actually put the lummox... look... there is a very real possibility that the creep could end up winning one of our titles. A very good possibility...
Dr. Pedowski: You #THUMP# feel like he is being rewarded for hurting you?
Thomas Grissom: Iím a nice guy. I got the trash a job. I mean heís subhuman... shouldnít karma have caught up with him by now? Whereís the divine wrath? Whereís MY retribution? Iím looking for lightning to strike him dead, instead theyíre practically handing him glory!
Thomas Grissom: Youíre REALLY not hearing that pounding noise?
Dr. Pedowski: It is all in your head. Like Poeís tell tale heart... it is your conscience tormenting you. You are guilty Thomas for letting this horrible incident come to pass.
Thomas Grissom: Horrible doesnít even begin to describe it. A savage monster like him with one of our titles? #THUMP# Weíll be a laughing stock! #THUMP# The federation will be out of business LONG before Fitzgerald has a chance to fire me.
Dr. Pedowski: You #THUMP# ...really think this man will win the title?
Thomas Grissom: Williams -- the kids heís fighting -- doesnít stand a chance. #THUMP# The young punk has the same size going for him, #THUMP# but his offense is all one dimensional mock-MMA. If his strikes had any power behind them, management would have paired him off with Weaver... #THUMP# thatís another one of our performers. No. The kid has some good references, and a solid ego, but I donít see it cushioning the blows. #THUMP# Iím the monsterís worst enemy, and _IíM_ telling you, the miserable piece of crap has this in the bank.
#THUMP# ...Itís all my fault.
Dr. Pedowski: One thing still puzzles me.
Thomas Grissom: Hayes for the win.
Dr. Pedowski: Not that. #THUMMMMP# Do you think Chase is conceited because he is a bastard, or is conceited about being a bastard, Thomas?
Thomas Grissom: Why would he be conceited about... wait...
[Too much knowledge of SCWE product... #THUMP# that unnaturally perfect diction... #THUMP# has he been calling me Thomas? DAMN IT. The doctor that referred him to Pedowski spoke the same way! So tired. Wide eyed, the senior road agent awkwardly grabs the side of the couch, shifting his weight to drag himself upright. Itís a battle. Thomas Grissom sucks in his breath, agonized as he sits up to find... everyoneís least favourite swenka. Inkanyamba stands across the office, looming over a desk with a hammer.]
Thomas Grissom: It is you!
Inkanyamba <what the f*ck is your problem>: Who were you expecting?
Thomas Grissom: I knew I wasnít losing it. Everywhere I go, every turn I make, youíve been following me!
Inkanyamba <shrug>: I get around.
[Turning back to his work, The Man From Deep River brings the hammer down once more on the table. #THUMP# The object heís striking is obscured by the South Africanís massive frame. #THUMP# Sparks fly with every strike. A sinking feeling in his stomach, Thomas Grissom tries to stand up to get a closer look at the sinister scene, but can barely move.]
Inkanyamba: Now many people would ask WHY Chase Williams chose me to defend his title against, why he put me on top of Tanner for the victory. If you had a choice between the scariest man in the federation, and a bloody husk, who would you choose?
Thomas Grissom: Why Iíd #THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMP#
Inkanyamba <cold dead eyes>: Rhetorical, my friend. Picking the better game, is it the act of a warrior, or a truly conceited bastard? Neither. There was no choice. #THUMP# I was briefly dazed, while Adrian Tanner was a broken shell. If Chase had decided to put Tanner on top, I would have simply kicked out, and continued with my decimation of the assassin. All Williams did was distract from a foregone conclusion. That I beat weaker prey? No. That I successfully put down a man in one night, that Williams had been attempting to hurt since arriving. I finished a job that he found impossible to complete.
I made it look easy.
I am actually glad Chase showed up. You see, I was not only destroying Tannerís credibility, but taking any that Williams had with it. It is only fair that the boy is given a fighting chance to preserve his bastard dignity.
Thomas Grissom <holding temple>: WILL YOU STOP THAT!
#THUMP# #THUMP# #THUMP# #THUMP#
Inkanyamba: ...I think not. Why did it take Chase Williams so long to take revenge for my little shark cage stunt? In his position, I would be very upset. I have been. So why wait a few weeks to try to rectify our issue? He was afraid. Why did he attack me from behind? He is still afraid. He is RIGHT to be afraid. It is nice to see that despite his bastard status, Williams has managed to possess some sense of self-preservation. Perhaps it is that same sense of preservation that saw his parents recognize their unholy union, and choose not to get married? <shakes head> And I thought the Styrofoam spear was a bad idea.
[Reaching down with his free hand, Inkanyamba starts push and fold the object heís been pounding away at.]
Inkanyamba: The boy knows fear. What questions must be running through his mind? What questions are running through ALL of their minds! The night before the pay per view, and the boys have butterflies in their stomachs. There are so many things to ask. Will he hit this move? Should I scout that one? What victory speech should I give? Will I win the title? Will my partner in crime get his job back? Will my favourite official get fired for gross incompetence? ...Pretty common, yes?
I am not worried about any of those things. You see, I know I will win the title. I know that Balogun will get his job back, just as I know Sage will be eating food through a straw for the next month. As for your employment, I sometimes wonder about karma myself.
You see, I have all the answers. The one question... The only thing that I am wondering about is...
<winking at his reflection> What will I wear?
Thomas Grissom: Are you kidding me?
Inkanyamba: As a swenka, these things are important to me. #THUMP# Fortunately... I have the perfect accessory.
[Spinning around, The Beast holds up a crown. A very special crown. An irregular, messy looking crown, that appears as though it has been hammered into shape. Thomas Grissom is going to throw up.]
Inkanyamba: Do you like it?
Thomas Grissom: Motherf[whoooooa]!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Inkanyamba <admiring his craftsmanship>: I think it brings out my eyes.
Thomas Grissom <pause>: Motherfu[whoooooa]!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Inkanyamba: Language, Thomas, Language.
Thomas Grissom <long pause>: MOTHERF[whoooooooooa], you destroyed the television title for THAT?
Inkanyamba <admiring his reflection in the window>: I shall walk out of Ground Zero as the new king of television; it is a far more fitting symbol of my power.
Thomas Grissom <he raises some very good points>: ...motherf[whooooooa]. GIVE ME BACK THE BELT!!!
Inkanyamba <chuckle>: What belt?
[Trying to rise, the senior road agent starts to reach out, he can barely stand. Crossing the little office, Inkanyamba starts to hold out his crown to Grissom, and then starts to raise it. Higher and higher, Grissom reaches up for that obscure object of desire. #SNAP# Back giving out on him, Thomas Grissom falls down to the couch, tears streaming down his face. The only thing stifling the manís scream of agony is the pleasure that Inkanyamba would derive from his cries.]
Inkanyamba <lowering crown>: You do not want it? <chuckle> Fair enough my friend. It can wait. <eyes narrow> At Ground Zero you can officially give it to me.
[The road agent shakes in anger, possibly pain as well. That well dressed Man From Deep River, straightens his Versace tie, before placing the television title... now crudely constructed crown, on top of his painted head.]
Inkanyamba <looking at his reflection again>: Assaulting officials, fans, brutally attacking wrestlers, playing with results, stealing straps... you charge me with a lot of offenses, but you missed the main one.
The real crime? ...Looking this good.
[Oh yeah! I used it! What? Heís not from here, that line is new for him. Tossing his velvet Louie Vuitton jacket over his broad shoulder, the endearing swenka heads towards the door.]
Inkanyamba: I look forwards to the coronation my friend.
[The Beast turns off the office light. From his catatonic position on the couch, Grissom tries to swear, but all he can muster are barely audible yelps. Always trying to be helpful, the TV title thief closes the door behind him, leaving the senior road agent in darkness.]
[Whimpering curse words are audible, but the image is black.]
[The headache remains.]
© 2011 SCWE Productions, a subsidiary of Cooler Than Ice, Inc.
coming soon in 2011!
League mail group:
|Hopper||Posted on May 20 2011, 06:16 AM|
9- "The One" Brian Young
[Fade in from black. Brian Young is standing before the SCWE banner attired in a pair of blue jeans and an old school AWMC 'The Storm Cometh' t-shirt. He paces back and forth for a few moments before turning to face the camera, his green eyes piercing the camera as he begins to speak.]
Young: Right now the SCWE is looking at it's uncrowned champion; 'The One' Brian Young.
[Young smiles for a brief second.]
Young: And I say uncrowned as Tyrone Hayes is still walking around the backstage area with the prestigious fifteen pounds of gold around his waist, all because of one's man obsession with me, Dylan Cardinal. Because of Cardinal, my match with Hayes wasn't for the gold . . . no instead it was for the right to name the stipulation for my Pay Per View match with him.
A stipulation that you will not know until I tell you . . . in Chicago, Illinois _AT_ Ground Zero.
Young: I can just picture you right now Cardinal . . . seething, cursing, damning me to hell . . . screaming that you should know the stipulation so you can get prepared for Ground Zero. But was I prepared for you on the debut Survival? Was I allowed to brace myself for the LD50? For the steel chair? No. No I wasn't. So why should you get a benefit that I didn't have? Why should I give into the pressure of the SCWE brass to tell you what is in store for you.
If you recall I wasn't prepared for the night when you blindsided me all those years ago and nearly ended my career . . .
[Young glares at the camera for a long moment.]
Young: A night, that you wish you could go back in time and transform from an accident into something much more sinister . . . Cardinal . . . like every other single man who has been dealt the justice they deserve for their actions when it comes from drinking and driving . . . you have warped that night in your mind to suit the vision of the it you want to know . . . that you want to be the truth . . . but the simple fact is it _WAS_ your fault!
And you can't admit to it. You can't be a man . . . instead you take the microphone and babble on and on how it was not your fault . . . instead you blame me! YOU BLAME ME! Like any criminal . . . like a little chicken[bleep] you blame the victim. YOU BLAME ME!
[Brian pauses as he runs his right hand through his beard in an obvious attempt to regain his composure.]
Young: I've done everything I can to put that night behind me . . . to push the sounds of the scrapping metal, the searing pain, the flames, the vision of the bloodstained street far into the recesses of mind. But since I have stepped foot back into the ring here in the SCWE, I've had to listen to you spew your venomous lies . . . listen to you twist reality . . . and deal with you trying to once again end my career, with you trying to tarnish the legacy I have spent thirteen years of my life building.
[Young breathes deeply.]
Young: And with-in those lies I have hear you time and time again admitting to the fact that you nearly ended my career . . . that you nearly took away my ability to walk . . . to run . . . to play with my daughter . . .
Young: Your voice full of arrogance and pride [sighs] as you remember the sight of my knee twisted and mangled . . . my neck braced for support as the EMTs loaded me into the ambulance . . . so why should I let you know the stipulation any earlier than I need to? Why shouldn't I blindside you like you have done to me?
In Chicago, Dylan . . . in Chicago is when you will learn your fate.
[Fade to black.]
10- Tripp Skylark
[Park bench. Tripp Skylark. Forty in hand. Go.]
All I gotta say is... REALY??? Like... REALLY?
[Shakes his head.]
Big bad motherfluffin' Scotty fluffin' Bailey!?!?
[More shaking of his head.]
A _true_ bad ass... a complete ass hole, and sheer brute in the ring.... throwing a _TANTRUM_? Behaving like a pathetic man child? Just shocks me, ya know... I thought he was _better_ than that. I thought he was _stronger_ than that. But I guess it's nothing but an _ACT_... a mere performance to streak fear into his opponents, hoping they _FALL_ for it and cost themselves the match....
Because what I witnessed last week...
That's not champion material in _my_ book.
See the difference between _champions_ and failures.... the difference between _legends_ and _hall of famers and _jobbers_ and _curtain jerkers_ is one thing:..
And that is _why_ I'm so glad, Scott fluffin' Bailey, you're again stuck inside that ring with me this week... because when push comes to shove, I'll _always_ be able to push harder than you. Last week, you _lost_ control. Your anger took over, and you simply acted on impulse. That's how _CHILDREN_ behave. Not the elite of the Ess See Dubbya Eeeeee!
So, that's why this week... I'm just gunna piss you off, Bailey... Piss you off _REAAAL_ good, and watch you just implode. Watch you cost yourself another golden opportunity, while I continue to fight on, tossing my name into the television title chase. It's gonad be great, Scott. It's gonna be _EPIC_!
Ahhhh.... and I guess long as I cause you to get your panties in a twist, I can call it a good night. Hah, moral victories do count for something ya know!
11- The Eskimo Brothers
[The camera opens in a gym.]
[Itís a ratty place. And I donít mean rodent-infested. I mean, odds are thereís a rat somewhere within the confines of the gym. Every place has a rat somewhere. If you donít think the building youíre currently sitting in while reading this promo has a rat in it, be it your home, place of business, local coffee house, or a proud member of the SCWE Prisonersí Fan Club, then youíre living in denial. And probably in sin as well, knowing the personal habits of some of you...]
[In any case, the centerpiece of this worn down gymnasium is a ring. While the windows may be covered in grime, and the ropes are sagging JUST a little bit, and the middle of the canvas is well worn with age and repeated sparring matches, one look at the squared circle is enough to tell you that if canvas could talk, thereíd be a lot of stories.]
[And freaked out people, because wrestling rings canít talk.]
[Standing in the ring, leaning against the ropes, is Diana Posey, the handler, manager, and wrangler of the Inuit Luchadors known as the Eskimo Brothers. Today, she is wearing a simple black blouse and tan slacks, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Sheís looking down at her charges, Jack and Gervis Anawak. The brothers are standing side-by-side on the floor mats, hands behind their backs, wearing their fur-lined full body suits and parka-themed masks]
DP: Well...letís get this out of the way first...
[Posey takes her hands from the ropes, and a bright smile comes across her face as she applauds, the clapping sound reverberating through the empty gym]
DP: Congratulations! You guys won your first SCWE match! Thereís a lot of stuff we still have to work on, but youíve gotten over the first big hurdle!
JA: I want to cry so bad, but I don't think I can spare the moisture.
[As usual, the Anawaks are speaking in the unique language of the Inuit people. However, since Google does not yet have an Inuit-to-English translator embedded within Chrome, for the purposes of this promo, the words of the Eskimo Brothers will come through as lines from the Emmy-award winning Fox situation comedy, "Arrested Development."]
DP: You guys can be proud, but you have to realize, this is just the first step on a very, very long journey. Because you guys won, weíve got a shot at a shot at the SCWE Tag Team titles. But, itís a long, harsh, grueling road to get there, and itís going to take a lot of work. A lot of hard, dedicated, punishing work that will be rewarded when we get our hands on those belts.
GA: Well, you and I have different management styles. I believe work should be fun, and you try to crush people's spirits. What's next, Diana? Are you going to make dancing illegal? Is this the tiny town from Footloose?
DP: Yeah, thatís why Iím the manager, and youíre the tag team with a 1-2 record. Now, this is a ladder match that weíre going to be involved in. Not only is this your first match on a PPV, but itís also a stipulation you guys have never encountered before. So, this week, between now and Ground Zero, the three of us are going to focus on learning a whole new bag of tricks.
JA: Illusion, Diana. A trick is something a whore does for money...or candy!
DP: No, Jack, I will not be using Pepsi Throwback as a reward for training. Weíre beyond the simple carrot and stick methods. Those will only take you so far. Now, we need to go beyond that. We have to get serious. From now on, the jokes will be at a minimum, and the focus will be razor sharp.
[Jack cocks his head to one side, but Gervis nods with enthusiasm at his managerís words]
GA: The zero hour. It's the end of the line. I'm the firstborn. Sick of playing second fiddle. Always third in line for everything. Tired of finishing fourth. Being the fifth wheel. There are six things I'm mad about, and I'm taking over.
DP: Absolutely not, Gervis. Do you remember the last time you tried to take charge of our training? And how that turned out? Weíre STILL banned from Vancouver Canucks games, both home AND away!
GA: Iíve made a huge mistake.
DP: The important thing is, youíve admitted your errors. Now, there is one advantage weíve got going into this match. Weíre going back up against the Hype and the Hired Technicians, two teams weíve fought before and who took us to the limit. You canít count either of them out, the Technicians OR Synís boys.
JA: The media has him out to be some sort of mastermind, which believe me he's not. The man can barely work our shredder.
DP: And Synís boys beat you in a match, if I recall?
JA: I donít understand the question, and wonít respond to it.
DP: They did. They took you two to the limit AND managed to pin you clean in the middle of the ring. By all rights, we shouldnít be in the mix for this tournament, and neither should they. So you know theyíre going to take every single advantage, including the fact that they know how to beat us. And just because we beat the Hired Technicians clean, in the middle of the ring, that doesnít mean theyíre going to just roll over for us.
GA: I have a surprise for them.
[Gervis, from behind his back, holds up an air horn, and a fireplace poker]
GA: First I blow them, and then I poke them.
JA: Guy has no idea what heís in for.
DP: No, Gervis, no outside weaponry! And you better not be huffing that airhorn!
GA: I'm tired of trying to find happiness through lies and self-medicating. If you need me, I'll be at the bar.
DP: No more excuses. Come on, guys...I know itís taken some time to get used to the SCWE. Yes, this is a strange land. Yes, this is America. Yes, some people believe Jesus rode around on dinosaurs and some people refuse to believe just how AWESOME a concept that is. Yes, people here have more guns and less education. Yes, this is a land that keeps re-electing Nancy Pelosi. What we have here is a chance to reach Greatness! By beating the Hype and the Hired Technicians, weíll get our shot at them, and then, either the Taylor Twins or the PPD await us. Three matches, guys. Three matches. We can do this. The nation of Canada...the tribes of the Trans-Polar...your family might make the 30 mile trek to the nearest Buffalo Wild Wings to see you in action! All you have to do it focus, and stop hitting each other during your matches! Itís like you two never stopped fighting!
JA: I really think the reason you and I always fight is that, since we were little, Dad's always played us off each other.
GA: Dad always said that was your fault.
JA: If this was a Lifetime movie, this would be our act break.
Narrator: But it wasnít. As children, Gervis Sr. would often provoke the boys to fight each other. He thought it would equip them for the challenges of life. He also believed that footage of the boys fighting would be a big hit in the burgeoning home-video market. He soon franchised the concept with such titles as "Boyfights 2", "A Boyfights Cookout", and "Backseat Boyfights: The Trip To Uncle Jack's 70".
JA: Come on, Gervis. Weíve had some good times.
[A black placard, with white letters, comes up -- FOOTAGE NOT FOUND]
DP: Ahem. Gentlemen, focus. Iíll say it again. Focus. Starting right now, you two are going to get into this ring, and weíre going to work our butts off, myself included, to get ready for this matchup. Now, come on...unless you guys have someplace better to be.
GA: I have the afternoon free.
JA: Why? Did "nothing" cancel?
[Fade before we confuse "Arrested Development" with "The Wire"]
12- "The Legend" Sean Darring
[We open with the camera pointed towards an old building. The old brick building is about the size of an old gym or warehouse. Signs of age and lack of upkeep show. Itís obvious that the city closed down the venue years ago. No lights ... Windows boarded up ...
A black Escalade SUV sits parked alone to the side. Standing in front of the SUV is SCWE superstar and wrestling legend, Sean Darring.]
"I used to call this home."
[We are in Miami, Florida.]
"Just barely over 500 people would show up on a good night."
[A big smile forms.]
"Bob and I would spend the night riling the fans up."
[Darring pauses thinking back memory lane.]
"I won my first wrestling championship title right here in this gym, the FSW Tag team titles. At the time I didnít realize how important that night would become. We spent that shows pay celebrating with whiskey and strippers."
[Darring gives a "hey I was young" shrug.]
"Whenever I reach a point in my career when I need to remember what it took to get where I am today I like to come back here and reflect. To think about the steps I took and the lessons I learned a long the way. Soon at the United Center ...
[Darring looks up at the Florida sun beating down on this nice spring day.]
"Itís quite a bit larger then this broken down gym. The stakes are no doubt larger and my opponent isnít the Hurricanes."
[Darring takes a deep breathe.]
"No the days of venues like this are far and gone and at Ground Zero with thousands of fans tuning in. Tyrone Hayes and I have an obligation to the SCWE and this industry. Itís not about whoís ego is larger. If it was that would be a debate that could last days."
"Itís not about who gets paid more. I know Tyrone Hayes doesnít wrestle cheaply."
[The Legendís suit tells the same story.]
"Itís about two men who started this industry in places like this. Who started with a dream and maybe you all didnít agree with how we _made_ our dream come true, but here we stand on one of the biggest stages in professional wrestling. In a place with guys like Brian Young, Derek Weaver, Chase Williams, and Greatness. Tyrone and myself will headline the night for the biggest prize inside the SCWE."
"No this isnít about egos or pay checks. This is about giving back. Itís about the dream we all have when we enter this crazy life. Itís about going out there and putting everything you have left on the line and just maybe if you we are lucky the fans will leave that night thinking they got their money worth."
[The Legend paces in front of the old building.]
"Itís about the SCWE Volunteer Championship. The symbol we all wrestle for. A symbol that signifies that you are the best. To have that feeling deep in your stomach knowing you are the hunted. To walk out with all eyes on you with confidence and pride. To further decorate the book of legacy we write with every passing day."
[Darring approaches the old boarded up windows.]
"One day our careers will be like this old building. Just a skeleton of boarded up memories. The new breed will take over and our careers will be talked about in passing. Tyrone, at Ground Zero we have a chance to remind the world where we have been. And more importantly where we are."
[Listen to the passion in the Legendís voice.]
"Our resumes are scattered memories. However Ground Zero is still the present. And while we donít see eye to eye I know we agree on one thing. That SCWE Championship title deserves the effort of two _great_ wrestlers. Thatís what we are at the core ... wrestlers. Take away the fancy nick names. Take away the spot light and the "show". And in the end we are two men that love this business and everything it stands for. This business has allowed me to take care of my family for decades. Itís given me a place in this world and a purpose. It has given me a platform to compete and I have met a lot of good people."
[Darring stares into the camera.]
"I love this business. And at Ground Zero you will see everything I have left. I know guys like Tyrone Hayes underneath the holier than thou armor feels the same way."
[The Legend begins to walk away from the old building.]
"One day the old Legend will be just like this building.
I am headed to the air port and set for a whirl wind of appearances in Chicago. As we approach SCWEís first PPV I want to remind the young up and coming superstars in the back that this is where you _MAKE_ your chance. This is where _you_ become a star. You want the platform Tyrone and I have. It starts with Ground Zero."
[Darring makes it to his vehicle.]
"And Tyrone Hayes I am ready. At this point in our careers ... You might be a little bit faster ... You might be a little bit stronger ... Hell you are probably a little bit tougher too."
[Darringís next words bring chills.]
"I am still better."
[Let those sink in.]
"After the hype all dies down. And the dust settles and that bell rings. We are going to make one more memory. And in same breathe find out who really is the _best_."
[The door opens and the Legend steps in as we fade to black.]
13- "The Blackshear Bully" Babatunde Balogun
[The camera opens up outside of one of the more iconic locations in all of Chicago: HARPO STUDIOS. More specifically, the camera is focused directly on the concrete flower bed and the accompanying sign. Resting on top of the studioís sign is a globe of sorts.]
[The studio, home of the Oprah Winfrey Show, is located the in Near West Side neighborhood of Chicago. Harpo, is not only "Oprah" spelled backwards, but also the name of Ms. Winfreyís characterís on-screen husband in the film "The Color Purple."]
[The screen slowly cuts away to inside the studio where an iconic man is seen mid-conversation on the historic set. Sitting on a cream colored couch is an impeccably dressed Babatunde Balogun; the man known as the "Blackshear Bully."]
[The proud Nigerian-American is wearing a pair of dark blue True Religion jeans and a black pair of Cole Hahn shoes. A dark gray cardigan is covering up a shirt that appears to say, "Fela Says Relax" on it. A small yet shimmering cross hangs comfortably from the manís neck.]
[As the camera moves in closer to the dayís guest of honor, you hear a more soft-spoken and, gasp, gentler Balogun address a previously asked question.]
Balogun: Share something that people may not know about me? Wow.
[Balogun looks bewildered.]
Balogun: Thereís really so much. Not really sure where to start.
[The SCWEís man apart pauses.]
Balogun: You know what? I am sorry.
[Thereís remorse in his voice.]
Balogun: I am sorry about the arachnids. The gruesome results of the now infamous pine box. The reckless swinging of my padlock.
[The words roll of his tongue like a housewifeís grocery list.]
Balogun: The iPhone deception. The horrific chain-whipping.
[He pauses, almost unable to continue his sinful list of aggressions.]
Balogun: The pane of glass.
[The man fighting for his contract pauses and take a few deep breaths.]
Balogun: The other two panes of glass and the bloodied shards that were lodged underneath your flesh. Your hospital bills. The tears from your loved ones.
[It appears that the man who has been nothing but a menace does have an ounce of humanity within him.]
Balogun: Itís hard to explain. It really is. Itís like in that moment of rage, Iím no longer ĎTunde. Iím no longer the son of Ladun. No longer me.
Iím someone else.
And that someone is nihilistic. Someone who is apathetic. Someone who is absolutely indifferent towards his enemy.
[Balogun leans back momentarily, pressing his muscular physique firmly against the back of the couch.]
Balogun: A savage someone who was totally and unequivocally wrong.
[He now leans forward, placing his head immediately in his palms, hiding any emotion.]
Balogun: Sage. Iím so...
Iím so very sorr...
[An odd rhythm of breathing comes out of the former blue-chip recruit, as if heís fighting back tears.]
"Ahhh? ? j?w?, ? gb? mi! What is this?"
(Ahhh? Excuse me? What is this?)
[The voice of a woman speaking Yoruba is heard in the background.]
Woman: Babatunde! No. No. No. Nibo ni o ti wa?
(Babatunde! No. No. No. Where is _THIS_ guy from?)
[Balogun looks up from his hands and reveals a sinister smile. He begins to breakdown into an almost uncontrollable laughter.]
Balogun: Temi! You know I always wanted to be on Oprah! I figured that this was my only shot!
[His feigned remorse is no longer.]
Woman: Tunde, you are silly-o.
[The camera pans back to the stunning Temi Taiwo standing to the side of the empty stage. Wearing a pair of slacks and a blouse, her figure is essentially flawless. Apparently, sheís had enough of Balogunís mockery-of-an-apology and she too breaks into laughter.]
Taiwo: Donít you think the kidís had enough? Itís already a foretold atrocity seeing that heís facing you in a cage. Couldnít you at least spare him this faux-remorse sarcastic banter?
[She smiles. A perfect smile.]
Taiwo: For me?
[He smiles back. There. _THAT_ is Balogunís true smile.]
Balogun: You want me to give him the truth?
[His beautiful lawyer and accomplice nods.]
Balogun: Well the truth is going to hurt. Even more than what Iíve already inflicted upon him.
[She nods as the camera closes in on Balogun himself who is now staring into the camera.]
Balogun: The truth is Stephen, youíre nothing more than a novelty. A 15 minute flash in the pan who is too green-eyed to know that his time ended 5 minutes ago.
[He takes a step closer to the camera.]
Balogun: Sure you were given a belt. Nevermind that it was the result of a racist official and his quick count. But you were _GIVEN_ a belt. Not out of merit. Not out of respect. Not out of talent.
But out of necessity.
You were given that belt because the federation felt sorry for you.
Because the _ONLY_ way any of these clowns would cheer for you is if you had some gold around your waist. If you didnít have a title, you would have been out of this promotion, bagging groceries in your closest Fort Wayne, Indiana supermarket.
[Balogun nods at the truth in his words.]
Balogun: And now?
[He shakes his head.]
Balogun: Now youíre simply too stupid to understand that you are nothing more than a sacrificial lamb that has been thrown to a beast. Because letís be real, for all of your whimpering and pleading, you didnít even get yourself _THIS_ match.
You couldnít get this match signed.
_I_ had to do it.
[Balogun shakes his head as disgust is painted all over it.]
Balogun: Sure you may have _ACTED_ like you wanted to face me at Ground Zero to extract some fantasized version of revenge. But deep down you were happy when Fitzgerald told you no. You were ready to call it a night.
You were enthralled.
In fact, you were genuinely relieved. It was written all over your pink face.
[He points towards his face.]
Balogun: _YOU_ were relieved that you wouldnít have to step into the ring with _ME_.
[Balogun points his thumb firmly into his chest.]
Balogun: You thought that the good Lord himself had answered your prayers didnít you?
[A small burst of laughter exits the bully.]
Balogun: You were wrong.
Balogun: Look at yourself Stephen. Look at yourself _VERY carefully.
[He pauses and leans closer to the camera, speaking in almost a whisper.]
Balogun: Youíre 3 years removed from being able to vote.
Months removed from your first drink.
Trained by nothing more than a drug addicted deadbeat.
And _YOU_ yourself summed up your wrestling skills the same way your women have described your sex lifeÖ
Öbasic, but quick.
[An evil smirk emerges once again.]
Balogun: And yet _YOU_ think that you have a chance against me? That _YOU_ will be able to survive hell when your standing face-to-face with a man like myself?
Stephen, youíre not only naÔve. Youíre a f[censored]king idiot.
Balogun: Because Iíve been to hell. Looked at the Devil in the face. And emerged victorious.
Youíve done nothing of the sort.
And that will not change when we face one another.
[Balogun takes a few steps and jumps off the stage, making his way up one of the aisleways.]
Balogun: I _WILL_ win Stephen.
[Again, dead honesty.]
Balogun: Sure, you may have the fans on your side. Sure, you may have the motivation from the embarrassment of your weekly assaults. And sure, you have the opportunity to write the perfect Hollywood ending to the underdog story.
Everybody is rooting for you.
Hell, Fitzgerald and the entire SCWE organization is praying for a Stephen Sage win.
[He stops in his tracks.]
Balogun: But this isnít about atonement.
Or about Beowulfís miraculous slaying of Grendel.
And this isnít another example of a Tinseltown film.
[He buries his right fist into his left palm.]
Balogun: _THIS_ is about reality.
[Balogun continues to walk.]
Balogun: Simply put, all _YOU_ have on the line is your pride. And youíve already lost that. Looking at the past few weeks, your pride has already be trampled, raped and pillaged.
[He nods once again in truthful reflection.]
Balogun: And for me?
Balogun: My future in _THIS_ company, in _THIS_ business is on the line.
Balogun: Itís rather simple Stephen: I _HAVE_ to win to continue here. If you lose youíre here boring these idiots to death regardless.
But if I lose?
[He looks down for a moment, lost in his thoughts.]
Balogun: Iím done.
And you want to know the God-honest truth Stephen?
[His dark brown eyes gaze deeply into the camera.]
Balogun: The God-honest truth is that if I donít defeat you, if I am unable to walk out of that cage victorious, then anything Iíve ever said matters very little.
Because if you win, then I truly donít belong in SCWE.
Balogun: And _THAT_ would be a shame. To rid this world of ours of its tried and true villain would be nothing short of a tragic.
Balogun: Much like your career will ultimately be.
[Balogun continues to walk up the aisle.]
Balogun: So go ahead and be the bright-eyed rookie. Talk yourself up. Pump yourself up with your ridiculously Ďsageí thoughts of revenge and retaliation. Dream about your opportunity to slay the Dragon from Houston. Talk about how youíre not scared to enter into the cage with the Blackshear Bully.
[He shakes his head.]
Balogun: And then wake up. And find yourself in a f[censored]king hospital bed fiddling with your catheter because _ONCE_ again Iíve beat your sorry self into a lifeless pile of human waste.
[He smirks. A hideously angry smirk at that.]
Balogun: You shouldíve walked away Stephen. You shouldíve let it go. You ignored my warnings; the crystal clear writing on the wall.
Balogun: Because this time it wonít be spiders. It wonít be broken class. The only thing that will be broken is your pride, your spirit, your bones.
Balogun: I will win Stephen. And in doing so, I will do it by _MY_ rules. Because remember who got this match.
Remember who embarrassed the sad-lad from Fort Wayne.
Balogun: And when I leave that ring victorious, you wonít find me crying about the carnage left behind in Chicago. I will not be sorry. I will not have remorse. I will not care about your well-being. Or whether youíre able to piss right again.
Because I am simply better than that.
Badder than that.
Bolder than that.
Balogun: Iíve said it before, but itís fallen on deaf ears. Stephen, I am violent by design.
Balogun: And you?
Balogun: Youíre about to be nothing more than a trivial answer in SCWE History.
Balogun: As in, ĎWhich former wrestlerís defeat at Ground Zero in 2011 allowed ĎThe Blackshear Bullyí Babatunde Balogun back into the federation on his way to become a multiple-time World Champion?í
[Balogun stares with a look of detest and disgust.]
Balogun: Stephen, you bring a pulse. I'll bring the pain.
[Balogun walks towards the exit and the camera begins to fade away, focusing on the cursive "Oprah Winfrey" sign on the set behind him.]
14- Frankie "Ten Fingers" Franklin
[Scene opens outside a run-down brick building. Standing there in black shorts and no tee shirt, sweating profusely with his hands on his knees, his left hand clutching a bottle of water is SCWE newcomer, Frankie "Ten Fingers" Franklin.
Frankie paces back and forth a little, catching his breath. As he does so, he looks to the camera, still breathing hard, leaning his back against the bricks.]
FF: Soulstealer huh? What kind'a' name is that anyways? Do you steal souls? Is that .. uh ... possible?
[Frankie pauses, fumbling in his shorts' pocket for something.]
FF: It's a mystery to me how a dude like you continues to wrestle in this organization. Damn near _every single_ match you've been in, you lost. There was Young, Skylark, then, most recently ... Darring. What makes you think this match will have a different conclusion? Eventually, maybe you'll put some eye-holes in that ridiculous mask of yours and see that you just ain't cut out ... you'll never make it. It's like they're throwing you, the abused poodle into the Lion's Den. It's almost like the SCWE is putting the final nail in _your_ coffin by scheduling this match!
[Frankie pulls out a pack of "Newports" and a lighter. He pulls a cigarette from the pack, puts it in his mouth and lights. After taking a few puffs, and exhaling, he continues.]
FF: The difference between you and I is ... I don't need to attack helpless individuals with box-cutters to prove a point. I don't need to have a mask on and act like some big, mysterious, tough guy to feel good about myself. The difference between you and I is ... you've been given multiple chances and blew them all. You are basically ... the Jenna Jamison of the SCWE.
[Frankie grins. Apparently he feels as though if he's a comedian.]
FF: Multiple ...
[Pause. Dramatics. Multiple what, Mr. Franklin? You just called him the Jenna Jamison of the SCWE.]
FF: Chances ...
[Frankie's smile just gets cheesier, as if he's been thinking this up for months now and finally gets to feel the "pay-off" ... so to speak.]
FF: _BLEW THEM ALL_!
[Frankie chuckles. He takes a few more drags off the cigarette before throwing it out, half-wasted, and rubbing it into the cement with his shoe. He takes a quick look at his surroundings, apparently collecting his thoughts.]
FF: You think I do this s[censored]t to _lose_? Every f[censored]kin' day in here with a bunch of sweaty old men tellin' me what to do ... definitely _not_.
[Frankie takes another swig of his water.]
FF: I don't know if you've heard or not, but I'm not the "norm" around here ... I'm not the type of guy that _doesn't care_ about _winning_ or _losing_ because it's a known fact that only wins in this industry bring you success. _WINNING_ is the only way Frankie Ten Fingers does things.
[He nods, matter of factly. Then, shakes his head with disgust as if the next thought just hit him.]
FF: You know what? I've been fightin' "tough guys" like you my _ENTIRE LIFE_ - big dudes with a chip on their shoulder ... they look tough, act tough ... the whole nine. But, when it comes to puttin' their words into action - it proves to be all an act. Of course experience in the ring plays a part ... you've got it. But, how in the f[censored]k will experience help you when I break your f[censored]kin' neck? I'm not here to make friends, I'm not here to play games.
["Nope", a shake of the head.]
FF: I'm here to win ... and win _big_. I'm here to do what my uncle didn't do ... become the best wrestler this industry has _ever_ seen. Forget my first win, I'm comin' after you with a point to prove. It's just unfortunate for me that you're not exactly the "cream of the crop" around here. Regardless, I'll make sure the end result is _all about me_.
[Frankie's obviously "feeling" himself as he flexes his pecs. He's confident and hungry for this match which is very apparent in his tone of voice.]
FF: You're quite the character, S.S. ... quite the character. But, this ain't the Wizard of Oz mother-f[censored]ker ... there ain't no yellow brick road that leads to happiness. Toto doesn't exist and your little princess shoes don't bring fantasy when they knock. This is real-life ... and I'd say that life is comin' at you real f[censored]kin' fast, right now ... you wanna prove me wrong?
[Index finger to the chest, "Yeah, me."]
FF: You might wanna' think about bringin' a bigger knife ... I'll see you at Ground Zero, Soulstealer where I'll be assisting you in your downfall.
[With that, Frankie's name is called for from around the corner. Frankie immediately whips his head over and begins the walk back to the training. The Camera Fades.]
15- Dylan "The Adder" Cardinal
[Thereís a bald man wearing what appears to be a purplish-blue 18th century Revolutionary War jacket, sitting at a mahogany bar, the camera behind him. The tall, lanky man raises a hand and makes a "peace sign".]
Dylan Cardinal: Two years, thatís roughly the time I spent in prison because of you, Brian Young. But your lies have taken a much bigger toll out of my life than two measly years. You also robbed me of my previous life.
[On the other side of the mahogany counter, the grey haired barman pours two glasses of bourbon, and slides them towards the bald man. He, in turn, finally brings the hand he was signaling with down, slithery and slow, and with two fingers, mimes a walking motion on the countertop, his hand strolling towards the drinks.]
DC: Carefree, you walk around in that mansion of yours with your woman - Alyssa, right? - taking her for granted, probably watching yourself on your big screen TV while she does your laundry, washing off the smell of Darring out of your tidy whities...
[His slithering hand reaches the glasses, and his fingers coil around the first. His back still turned to the camera, the man brings the drink to his lips and sips loudly.]
DC: Aaaahh... Except for the lingering scent of Darring, those are all things I either had, or was on my way to gettiní. Iíd made peace with my past, mourned my broken home, started on a wrestling career I was truly gifted in, found me a woman of my own...
[By the motion of his arm, it seems the bald man turns the glass below his nose, inhaling deeply, cherishing every subtle spice in the bourbonís perfume.]
DC: 'Course, my girl didnít have a stripperís name like yours, but Nadeah was fine by me. Nadeah Bailey...
[The 18thí century jacket bobs and shakes as the bald man softly scoffs.]
DC: She used to drop all kind of hints, trying to make me pop the question... Back then, I pretended not to notice... Didnít have the means to get her a ring, yet...
[With a sudden jerk, the bald man smashes the empty glass on the floor, which startles the grey haired bartender.]
DC: But now, her nameís Nadeah Westman, and thatís all thanks to you, Brian.
[The bald man shakes his head, motions to himself with both hands.]
DC: You look at me today, and see the husk of the human being I once was. I lost my freedom. I lost my woman, I lost my humanity... But prison did impart some important knowledge, like the fact that a man only gets stronger when he donít give a [BLEEP].
[The reptilian man leans forward into the counter, raising his right hand to point skywards.]
DC: I lost everything but the one thing a man keeps all his life: knowledge... but it did try to take that, too. The big house... it does everything it can to strip away everything; [The bald man raises another finger for every item on his list.] ...your freedom, your ability to love, your autonomy, your identity... Every day, at any given time, they decide where you are and what you do, and every day itís the same damned routine...
[The man runs his hand over his smooth cranium, like Brando would have in Apocalypse Now.]
DC: Unwillingly, it teaches you to expect the unexpected, because you always know that at any given moment, [BLEEP] can get real.
[Pushing himself away off the bar, the bald man mockingly twirls his finger in the air.]
DC: So now, you fancy yourself a high and mighty judge, waving around his gavel. Brian Young, thinking heís entitled to some kind of revenge, some kind of retribution...
[The bald manís slithering hand reaches outwards and slinks back, now coiled around the second glass. In a bitter tone, his voice soft, seductive, yet infinitely disquieting, he continues...]
DC: Brian Young, the man who thinks justice should only exist when heís the damn victim.
[The bald man downs the glass of bourbon and grunts.]
DC: And you think youíll be deciding what form of punishment youíll inflict upon me?
[He stand out of his stool and raises the second glass, prepared to smash this one on the floor as well... but instead, he shakes his head with laughter.]
DC: Well ainít that something else!
[The lanky man places his glass on the bar. Leaving the grey haired barman behind, the bald man walks off... but the camera does not follow. The barman grabs a towel and reaches for the abandoned glass.]
DC: I can adapt to anything you chose, Brian, Iíve been reconditioned that way.
[The bartender dumps the glass and towel under the bar. ]
DC: Because Iíve already lost it all, I can shed my skin...
[Now, he pulls the grey haired wig off his smooth cranium, and unfurls to full height.]
DC: ...And _adapt_ to anything.
[In disguise, and kept out of focus for nearly all the scene... "the Adder" had in fact been the barman all along...]
DC: You should expect the unexpected, as well, Brian.
[Snake like, Cardinal leans in over the counter, clearly addressing the camera directly, making his intentions clear.]
DC: Iím coming for your knee, meaning the only thing _you_íll have to adapt to... is life as a cripple. Itíll be that one thing you can count on. That thing you can be sure to expect. Are you falling into a snare of your own design, Brian?
Hereís good news... Ground Zero isnít about winning or losing. Not for me. Iíve already lost everything I had to lose. But the bad news... itís that you, Brian Young, you still owe me that knee.
[Half smirking, "the Adder" sucks in saliva through his teeth, generating an unsettling hiss.]
...And a whole lot more.
[Cardinal stares through the camera, his reptilian eyes unflinching... unrelenting... holding that stare unmercifully, as if the bearer of some inescapable fate... but the camera does thankfully give in, and cravenly fades away to black...]
16- Zacharias Di Stefano
[ The camera opens up as it shows us that we're inside a private jet aircraft cabin, it has been personalized .. the carpeting is green, and beneath where the cameraman stands is three letters written in white cursive lettering "ZDS". There are three personalized chairs in the cabin, two of which sit across from each other, they are colored red. They are both occupied: to the left sits a female. She is dressed in a Marc Jacobs two-toned dotted dress, and a pair of black Christian Louboutin heels. She sits there elegantly, with her legs crossed, with a glass of red wine in her hand as she takes a sip. Across from her sits a man.. he's dressed down more. He wears a pair of sweatpants, and a wifebeater. He's busy reading the latest edition of GQ Italia. The silence is broken by the pilot coming over the intercom. ]
Pilot: We're now taxiing up to Chicago Executive Airport, hope you've enjoyed your ride.
[Concetta and Ezio stop what they're doing as they look at each other in excitement. Concetta breaks the silence between the two.]
Concetta: America !!!
Ezio: It's been so long since I've been here, some of my family moved to Miami.
[Concetta looks out her window.]
Concetta: I don't see that statue of liberty anywhere.
Ezio: That's in New York City
[Concetta looks disappointed, but she shakes off her brief ignorance.]
Concetta: How do you think they will take us here, Ezio? Do you think the Americans will like us?
Ezio: Of course they will LOVE us.. one thing about Americans, they like things that are fresh and exciting. When they see us compete with and defeat Billy James .. they will fall in love with our elegance, style, and grace.
[The jet comes to a stop. As a bright smile comes across Concetta's face.]
Concetta: This is the start of a new !! America, the land of the free .. words cannot describe my excitement.
Ezio: Do not get overly estatic, Concetta, we still have a mission to carry out, and a job to do. We will discover America, and establish ourselves among the American elite! You ready for the challenge?
[Concetta nods her head, bringing herself back to reality.]
Ezio: What about you, Zacharias?
[Ezio turns around in his seat, looking back at the third seat. The camera follows Ezio's eyes, as for the first time, the camera glances at the third seat in the cabin. The seat is centered, it sits on a small platform with two small steps. The seat is a goldish yellow color, and is designed too look like a throne. After a few moments, the seat turns around. It's Zacharias Di Stefano. He's dressed in an all white Giorgio Armani suit, he removes his sunglasses, and looks at Concetta, then Ezio with a serious stare.]
Zacharias Di Stefano: Veni. Vidi. Sum iens evinco !!!
[ZDS breaks the tension with a laugh, as Concetta and Ezio join him as the camera fades to black.]
|Hopper||Posted on May 20 2011, 06:15 AM|
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SQUARED CIRCLE WRESTLING ENTERTAINMENT
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1- "Conceited Bastard" Chase Williams *SCWE TELEVISION CHAMPION*
2- The Taylor Twins
3- "Mr. L.A." Adam Northstar
4- "Hardcore" Jack Nomad
6- Scott Bailey
7- "Bad Karma" RJ Souza
8- The Hype
9- "The One" Brian Young
10- Tripp Skylark
11- The Eskimo Brothers
12- "The Legend" Sean Darring
13- "The Blackshear Bully" Babatunde Balogun
14- Frankie "Ten Fingers" Franklin
15- Dylan "The Adder" Cardinal
16- Zacharias Di Stefano
17- Tyrone "Purple" Hayes *SCWE VOLUNTEER HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION*
18- Stepen Sage
1- "Conceited Bastard" Chase Williams *SCWE TELEVISION CHAMPION*
"So we've gone from the guy a lot of people thought was the best in the world a short while ago, to a guy so desperate from relevance he'll do anything _anything_ so people will finally notice him. First it was panes of glass and a shark cage. Then it was a coffin full of spiders. It'd be funny, if it wasn't so pathetic..... Inkanyamba..."
[The smug face of Chase Williams is framed in the shot.]
"You'd think Balogun did all that cartoon over the top bull[beep] by himself as much as you heard people talking. Nobody was even acknowledging that Balogun's partner is crime, Inkanyamba was involved as well. I can almost understand Inkanyamba's frustration, and why he's gone about things the way he has. He might as well have been invisible, just the guy helping Babatunde Balogun. I can even admire the ambition, but the second rate execution definitely left something to be desired. Lucky for you Ink, I'm a very giving person."
[A hollow chuckle.]
"I gave Adrian Tanner his walking papers, cause frankly, as great as everyone thinks he is, Mr. Wrestling 2005 was just proven Mr. Irrelevant 2011. And I gave Inkanyamba a gift-wrapped Ground Zero title shot. Why? Because he insinuated himself one too many times into my business, and honestly, snuffing Tanner at Ground Zero had lost its appeal, and though Ink is far below my level of skill, he has proven himself as vastly superior competition to Adrian, even though he's been little more than Babatunde's gopher."
[He pauses and raises a quizzical eyebrow]
"But the bottom line is, Inkanyamba's a talented warrior. Far more talent than brains, as we have all been privy to lately. Play your games Ink, there's plenty of guys in the SCWE you could chew up and spit out. Plenty of guys you could intimidate, and dominate. Unfortunately, as bad, as intimidating, as _dominant_ as you may be, you're looking at a guy, on another god damn level. As savage as you can be Ink, my savagery is not expressed through cheapening means like glass and spiders. I dislocate body parts. I make the collective squeamish with my bare hands. With me Inkanyamba, what you see is what you get."
[An evil smile. He shakes his head.]
"And what you get, is this federation's apex predator. You pissed off the alpha male Inkanyamba, perhaps the one guy that will reach to depths even you won't go to just to see you suffer. I really don't believe that you understand the path you've chosen, if you fully understood the things I am capable of I don't believe even _you_, would be so quick to put yourself squarely in my cross-hairs."
"A worthy opponent indeed. But an out-manned talent without a doubt. AS you have sewn, so you shall reap. Your ultimate price awaits payment at Ground Zero Inkanyamba, and no motherland is gonna stop me, from rendering you a [beeping] mat smear."
"SCWE, consider Ground Zero, how a real champion asserts his authority and administers an _ass_ _whipping_!!"
2- The Taylor Twins
[We fade in on what appears to be a television studio. Seated behind the news desk would be The Taylor Twins... Jimmy to the left, Jack to the right. Jimmy is dressed in a white button down shirt and blue tie and Jack wears a blue button down shirt and red tie.
And, as usual, it's Jimmy who does the talking.]
Jimmy: News flash, this just in, hot off the presses... Jack and I have done exactly what we said we would do and that's make it to the tag team title tournament semifinals! It was a long and grueling road, as first we had to overcome the Eskimo Brothers, then we had to battle The Hired Technicians and then we had to bring down The Hype, but we did not disappoint our great fans nor did we disappoint ourselves as we earned our spot among the final four teams!
But as it turns out, the entire field has not been set as there is in fact one more match to determine just who will compete the final four, as the other three teams we had to face get to face each other for that final spot, in a ladder match, with the winner taking on Greatness... Jack, I gotta ask you, just who do you think could walk out of that match the winner... after all, we faced all three of those teams and it's pretty clear they can all hang with the best of them!
[Jack doesn't respond immediately... in fact, it takes him about a minute.]
Jack: Uh... well...
[And another long pause.]
Jack: Maybe we should... worry about... our... um...
[He then motions back to Jimmy, as if he doesn't really want to pick a winner.]
Jimmy: Well, Jack has a point because, first things first, we've got our work cut out for us when we take on The Perfectly Perfect Duo. Don't ask me why they call themselves that... that's redundancy right there. And that is something I am never guilty of! I do not repeat myself, I do not reiterate, I do not keep saying the same thing, over and over! I am clear, concise, to the point...
[If you say so, Jimmy.]
Jimmy: ...and now let's get to the point, which is we first face Lance and Max Studd, two brothers just like us, who no doubt know each other very well, just as Jack and I know each other very well. They've been around the horn for some time, been there, done that, got the T-shirt and they've got a successful manager backing them up... but while we may not have achieved the accolades they have, that doesn't mean the odds are against us! Because we are on a roll, we've taken on all comers and overcome them all, and we plan on doing it again!
Isn't that right, Jack?
[Does Jack agree?]
Jack: Um... yeah...
[Apparently he does.]
Jack: We're... um... ready for... them.
[Seeing as how Jack has nothing more to add..]
Jimmy: And then, should we get past the Studds, that leaves just one more obstacle to overcome... I'm sure Greatness thinks the headline news would be for them to face us for the tag team titles, but they best not overlook whoever it is they have to get past in the semifinals. And then, should that moment come to pass and should it be us and Greatness for the titles, well then...
[A quick smile for the camera.]
Jimmy: Greatness' prediction will finally be realized, won't it? But as you can see here, Jack isn't going to make predictions, I'm not going to make predictions, but we will promise you great fans this... we will be giving you our best, just like we do every night, night after night, match after match... and we certainly won't disappoint you by giving it any less than our best effort! And if that translates to us being the tag team champions, then all the better! Isn't that right, Jack?
[To which Jack is quicker with a response.]
[And that's all his response is.
3- "Mr. L.A." Adam Northstar
[ We come upon a theater...It is empty, yet the curtains are pulled open. It is a small stage theater in which it is presumed that, at best, second-rate plays are run. ]
[ Footsteps can be heard leftward from stage right. ]
[ Pause ]
[ More footsteps can be heard, until we see a man come into view. He appears to be all dressed in purple with a yellow sword at his right hip, kind of like what you would see out of a man who plays one of the "Three Musketeers". The camera zooms in on him; as it does, we can see that it is none other than the IXWA Champion, SCWE wrestler...whatever your point of view is, "Mr. L.A." Adam Northstar. ]
Northstar: Hello, everyone. I bet you all were wondering where I went to after I finished my match with The Flying Angel, don't you ?
[ Northstar pauses for a moment. ]
Northstar: Well, since it was pretty much POINTLESS for me to stay for the rest of the card, I thought that I would go for a couple of the auditions that I had my hearts set on. For some reason, I never seem to get a call back, despite my amazing talent.
[ Northstar scratches his head. ]
Northstar: Anyway, I just got wind that I am in a 4-opponent match for a shot at the SCWE TV Title, a type of belt that I am quite familiar with in a position that I am quite familiar with. You know: ON CAMERA. I know that, quite frankly, it would NOT BE WORTH...THE...EFFORT to sweat who will win the match since it will be a foregone conclusion that I will win.
[ Northstar pauses before he continues speaking. ]
Northstar: I will, however, give my upcoming opponents some good faith advice...Let's start off with the man who uses the letters "A.K.A." Before actually pursuing wrestling goals, take my advice since I know from experience: commit to ONE name before you do anything else. Our industry relies on marketing as much as any other business does. I would say more, but quite frankly, it's NOT WORTH...THE...EFFORT.
[ Northstar pauses again. ]
Northstar: These next two guys I will address together before I address them individually. Tripp Skylark, Scott Bailey...do you two honestly think that you will be winning ANY titles if you continue to put grudges into the picture ? From what I have learned in my thirty and one-half years on this planet is that feuds, quite frankly, can get in the way of realizing many of your potential achievements. I do admit that I have been very rusty at holding grudges, especially in the wrestling business since I have pretty much come out on top in the last four years, but that doesn't make the lesson here any less valid now, does it ?
Northstar: While we are on the topic of grudges, let me pull you two apart and talk about you, Scott Bailey. I can give you the numbers of my two best friends in the world, Joey Timberwolf and Todd Coverdale. Maybe they can give you some pointers on how not to feel inferior, despite your brother's SUPERIOR accomplishments to yours.
[ Northstar pauses. ]
Northstar: They had the deal with me being the lead singer of our band "The Shining Stars" back in Minnesota, where I am originally from. They had to deal with me being a four-time state wrestling champion and also the fact that they also had to deal with getting fired from the ICWF while I went on to championship fame there.
[ Northstar pauses again. ]
Northstar: They can go over stuff with you in more detail, but how did they get over it, you ask ? Quite simple: they pursued their own goals. I would say more about this, but quite frankly, it would be a POINTLESS exercise.
[ Northstar pauses again. ]
Northstar: Tripp Skylark, from what I know about you, you would be lucky to pass the drug test for this match. This may come as a total shock to you, but even a regional federation, like the SCWE, has drug testing. Saying any more would be quite frankly, NOT WORTH...THE...EFFORT.
Northstar: My time here is almost up, but before I go...I just told you why the FOCUS factor is mine for the taking.
Northstar: I can do it. The question that remains to be answered is: Can ANY of my opponents say the same ?
[Fade to black]
4- "Hardcore" Jack Nomad
[We open in the middle of an empty playground in the middle of the night. You could hear crickets in the surrounding woods chirping away in steady rhythmn. The lit camera passes by a few stationary spring horses, the gentle breeze causing the swings nearby to shift with little protest. After stepping around a Sandbox with an old, rusted Tonka truck sitting in it, we find ourselves looking upon a carousel that looked as if it were vibrantly colored, but now the paint had chipped and faded. Seated between a pair of green and red railbars on this metal turntable, is Jack Nomad. He sports loose fitting, bright red cargo pants, black Adidas running shoes, a white hoody completely covered in black line drawn skulls, and an orange and black West Coast Choppers skully. He has his elbows propped upon his knees and his hands clasped together between them, eyes averted from the Camera to look off at something distant.]
Jack Nomad: How innocent were we, when we were young and foolish?
[He reaches into the pocket of his hoody, producing a red and white box of Marlboro 100's and an engraved, silver zippo lighter. He pulls a single smoke stick from the pack, then balances it on the tip of his finger. Giving it a flip, he catches the cigarette by the filter between his lips in classic smoker fashion. After placing the pack by his side, he flips the zippo lighter top and lights it all in one fluid motion. Cupping a hand over the flame, he lights the cigarette with a few quick puffs. With a loud click, the lighter is shut and he takes in one long and seemingly soothing drag, then lets the smoke ooze out of his nostrils and mouth.]
....We were all like kids, playing in the playground. That was the early days of Professional Wrestling. Grown men, dressing up in costumes and pretending to be spacemen, or Russians, or that we had talent in some cases...
[Jack snickers and takes another hit from his cigarette.]
When I hear a name like Flying Angel, do you know what I think of? I think of someone who is still stuck in that mindset... an overgrown child who can't grow up. Thing is, Angel, the wrestling ring has become much like this playground... The pretty veneer is gone and It's alot more dangerous than it looks.
[He flicks a few ashes from that smoke stick. Sitting up, Jack places a hand on that faded green rail, a smirk plays across his lips.]
In the good old days, the bad guys were pretend. Everyone went into the locker room and hugged, kissed, made out... whatever the f*** it was that those old **gs in spandex would do. We're not in those days anymore, Angel, and while you might jump really high and fall with some style, you don't fly because God never gave you wings.
[Another toke from the cigarette is taken, this time he blows the smoke out in O-shaped rings.]
You're real name must be something truly awe inspiring, Angel.... Or really f***ing embarrassing. Is your name Mervin by any chance? Mervin Melvin, hah! That's it! Wait wait... I got one even better...
[Jack snaps his fingers as he thinks real hard for a moment.]
Your name is... WHO GIVES A F***?!
[The outburst is followed by a snicker as he flicks a few loose ashes from his cigarette onto the ground.]
Nobody cares, Angel, because You're going up against a man with a name people will remember after this night. Nobody will remember "The Flying Angel" Mervin Melvin.
[He takes one long, final drag off the cigarette and quickly puts it out on the carousel's deck plated surface, billowing another cloud of dark smoke from between his lips. He gathers up his pack and lighter, slipping them back into his hoody pocket. With a wild-eyed stare he steps up to the camera, traces of smoke still escaping his lips...]
Melvin your epitaph will read... Mervin Melvin stood on a post. Mervin Melvin tried to fly coast to coast. But Melvin fell to the deck and broke his neck. None of the King's horses or the King's men, ever watched that stupid f***er again. Jack takes his Crown, and brakes him down! Happy never after... BITCH!!!
[Jack shoots a bird at the camera, his hand blurred out as he does so. He then steps off camera. The scene quickly fades to black.]
[We open with perfection ... No there isnít a pair of spray on tanned lap dogs. Itís one half of SCWEís _top_ tag team, Tyler Rose. The blond superstar stands wearing a SCWE "It starts and ends with Greatness" t-shirt.]
TR: Finally itís time to crown the Tag Team Champions. While the rest of the roster had their carrot placed in front of them shows ago. SCWE has decided to save the _best_ for last and that is Greatness coming out and bringing tag team wrestling back to the fore front. There are _FOUR_ matches dedicated on the PPV around these belts. We have ladders to start things off ... Hanging from that ceiling is that golden opportunity to _SHUT_ us up.
[A cocky smile by Tyler Rose.]
TR: We have been hearing a lot of moaning and groaning about what we have said about the rest of the tag team division. Hype, Eskimos, and Hired Technicians have been a target of our shots. While I stand by everything I have said. At Ground Zero none of it matters. Itís tag team championship time and while we have half-assed every match thus far. You are about to see a Greatness like you havenít seen before. We signed our contracts for _this_ night. We returned to the ring for _these_ belts. C M right here formally known as the Golden One has looked a little pale without a little gold.
[Michaelson forms from the right side and now we have both members of Greatness.]
CM: Fifteen pounds of gold ... that is what it has all be about for us these past few months. Fifteen pounds of gold that every one in the locker room knows will soon be residing around the waists of the Epitome of Excellence and the Personification of Perfection.
CM: For the past few months we have berated, insulted and dragged the rest of the SCWE tag team division through the mud in the attempt to see who would finally step up! Who would finally show the drive to take Greatness to their limit ...
[Michaelson does a mock yawn.]
CM: And yet no one has. No one has done anything but whine to the brass, complain behind our backs as theyíve watched Greatness remain undefeated!
[Michaelson shakes his head in disappointment.]
CM: Itís a damn shame really that no one wanted to step their game up ... that no one wanted to become an instant classic in SCWE by defeating Greatness ... no instead they proved the statement I made on our first night back ... that tag team wrestling needs Greatness. It needs Tyler and myself to put it back on the map! And thatís just what weíve done! The undefeated Greatness has viewers tuning in ... the brash comments of Greatness have viewers begging for someone to step up and knock us down from the top of the ladder!
[Michaelson motions to himself and Rose.]
CM: Weíre the reason the SCWE tag team division is known around the world! And now Hype, The Hired Technicians and The Eskimo Boys have the chance to literally climb the ladder and step into the ring to face Greatness.
TR: Itís Brothers, Eskimo Brothers.
CM: I know that ....
TR: You said boys.
[Michaelson glares Rose as he begins to speak again.]
TR: Climb those ladders boys. Reach for the briefcase. And just think you will be the first team of the night to have the chance to do what no team has been able to do thus far and thatís _beat_ us and shut us up. Just think, Morgan Freeman could do another voice over for Hype. The Eskimos could celebrate by going ice fishing. And the Hired Technicians could be relevant for the first time in their careers. Itís actually brilliant by the SCWE minds.
[Michaelson interrupts his partner.]
CM: We know this wasnít a Hopper decision then.
TR: But enough about the three way between wishful thinking. The night begins when Greatness takes on the winner between the battle of twins. The match has all the markings of a really bad, Jerry Springer show.
[Rose does a deep announcer type voice.]
TR: Next on Jerry Springer ... Twins who suck.
[And now Michaelson has joined in on the fun with a deep voice.]
CM: Plus, Wrestlingís Freddy Kruger look alike Sam Bevins will stop by and ---
[Black screen. A calm female voice.]
Female Voice: For the protection of Greatness sanity. Please stand by.
[Fifteen seconds of calm elevator music ... And we are back.]
TR: Who hired that lady. She sounded pretty hot.
CM: By far better looking then ---
[Oh not again! Black screen. A calm female voice.]
Female Voice: For the protection of Greatness sanity. Please stand by.
[Fifteen seconds of calm elevator music ... And we are back. Rose shakes his head at his partner.]
TR: Taylor Twins we will do our part. There is no questions that Greatness will be in the Championship match. We have given you the respect your reputations demanded. We have considered you our only hope at any chance of big time match up. Go out there take care of business and meet us in the center of the ring to settle the score. Itís time to find out if you can live up to the opportunity. We have kept the spotlight off you. While everyone has hung onto every word we have said. Picked it apart and pouted because Greatness are big meanies ... You have quietly made your way to to one match away from the Championship match. The only problem is ...
[Michaelson chimes in.]
CM: They have to look at -
[Third strike and your out! Black screen. A calm female voice.]
Female Voice: For the protection of Greatness sanity. Please stand by.
[Fifteen seconds of calm elevator music ... And we are back. Rose looks at his partner with a "really?" look.]
CM: What? I was going to say the The Fabulous Wonder Twins.
[Rose continues to give Michaelson the "really" look.]
CM: What? Thereís nothing wrong with them. They are supposedly entertaining ... oh thatís what the look is for ... Perfectly Perfect Duo isnít entertaining. Well, The Fabulous Wonder Twins I am sorry to compare you to Perfectly Perfect Duo.
[Rose meet face palm. Michaelson looks at Rose and just shrugs his shoulders.]
TR: Well the Wonder Taylor Twins do have cool blue hair.
[Now he has drug Tyler down with him! Michaelson chuckles.]
CM: Weíve said it time and time again The Taylor Twins versus Greatness and weíre just two matches away from it. So Hype, Eskimo Brothers, and Hired Technicians ... climb that ladder rung by damn rung as fast as you can and enjoy the celebration of entering the semi-finals. Yet, when you look across the ring you will see Greatness and then you will be counting the lights in the ceiling, just another speed bump in Greatnessí quest for the tag team championships.
TR: As we head to Chicago ... There are _five_ teams ... _Five_ opportunities ... You want your chance to prove us wrong? You want your chance to teach us a little humiliation? Look no further. But in my younger days when I was a betting man ... I wouldnít even play those odds.
[Rose shakes his head.]
TR: Tag Team wrestling is far from dead. We have already awoke it from itís coma. Now at Ground Zero ... Tag Team Wrestling is about to become, Greatness.
[Michaleson places his palm in-front of the camera as we fade to gold ... Solid Gold.]
6- Scott Bailey
[Scott Bailey is sitting on a metal folding chair, in the middle of an empty warehouse. Yeah, it's a bland, basic, boring setting.. deal with it. Wearing a black t-shirt with a design of the grim reaper and the logo of the band Children of Bodom on it, and black cargo shorts, to go along with the black combat boots. His long beard hangs down, and there's nothing covering the skin-bald head. The camera focuses in on what can be seen of his face, as he has his head facing towards the ground.]
SB: I'm not what you would call a religous man. When it comes to the topic of gods and devils and angels and demons... I generally prefer to stay away. Personally, I don't really care either way. I've read the Bible... I've read The Satanic Bible.. I hear both sides arguing who's right, and who's wrong. Like I said, I don't care either way.
[Scott runs his hand over his bald head, then clasps it into his other hand, still, not looking up.]
SB: The christians say that the way into heaven is to atone for your sins. They say, no matter how bad, if you truely confess.. if you sincerely apologize.. bleed your heart out to "God" that all your sins will be forgiven, and when you die, you'll be allowed into the gates of heaven.
[Now, Scott looks up into the camera. His eyes just glaring at it, almost as if he's starting directly as a person.]
SB: I'm sure you're all wondering what the hell this has to do with anything. I'm fairly new here, but I know damn well that I haven't given off the impression of someone that's into this religion nonsense or someone that really cares about "sins."
[And, now, Scott stands up. His demeanor looking a bit more upset.]
SB: But, what I DO care about, is BEING SCREWED OVER!
[And, with that, Scott picks up the chair and throws it across the warehouse. And, now, speaks a bit more angrily into the camera.]
SB: You see, Tripp [TV EDIT] Skylark... what you did... is something that you'll never forget. First of all, it was a bitch move. You didn't beat me. We both know that you couldn't beat me. You took advantage of a damn situation and rolled me up for a cheap pin! I hope you're proud of yourself, really, I do....
[Scott runs his hand over his bald head again, then stares into the camera, looking just straight pissed.]
SB: Tripp [TV EDIT] Skylark... I SERIOUSLY hope that if you believe in what they call God, that you've atoned for your sins.... because, after I'M done with you at Ground Zero, you'll be dead in the [TV EDIT] ring! Being number one contender for the TV Title.. oh, don't worry, that's going to happen for me. The others in the ring.... just more victims... but you, Skylark, will be the one that will FADE TO BLACK!
[Fade to black.]
7- "Bad Karma" Rj Souza
"You think you know, but you don't know...and you never will"-Jim Mora
(The airports all look the same. The ticket counters, the TSA lines out the door. But still, RJ Souza and his wife, Destiny get to have a quick moment near the security check-point.)
Destiny: Are you truly sure about this?
RJ Souza: Look, it's for your own good. Seriously. I am done with everyone wanting to target you to get to me. I am beginning to see why super heroes had secret identities. I have not got a chance to get my mind right in this fed since I got there. It's either the injuries, the doctors or my past. I promised myself, no more distractions. That, right now, includes you. So get on that plane, get home and spend some of that money I been working so hard to get for you.
Destiny: But you are my husband. We married for better or worse. We done most of this together. I don't want to lose it at the biggest match you ever had.
RJ Souza: Just respect my wishes. Get on that plane. Turn on the Pay Per View...and what your man dominate.
Destiny: I trust you. I love you and I will miss you.
RJ Souza: Love you too. Now, I will call when I get to the hotel. Just relax and enjoy yourself.
(The two embrace before sharing a tender kiss goodbye. Destiny walks into the security line while RJ walks away. His cell phone rings franticly)
RJ Souza: Yeah....
RJ Souza: I just got her on the plane. She doesn't have a clue. If I told her what I was really up to, she would still be here.
RJ Souza: All I know is that last promo Dexter did made me realize what a liability she can be.
RJ Souza: You remember..."Say what you want about me but leave Bethany out of it". It got me thinking...What would he do to Des if he got her hands on her? That's something I really can't have sticking in the back of my mind as I go into this match. I already have the "Special Guest Anonymous Referee" to worry about. I got Dexter Payne himself....which in itself a very dangerous match. Should I piss him off and say something about Bethany?
RJ Souza: Yeah, I know she hooked up with a complete loser of a man. I know she has poor judgment when it comes to helping him out. She's weak minded and will not get that stubborn mule to take this damn thing seriously.
RJ Souza: Right now. the most important thing is the SCWE. It's time for me to get my head right back where it belongs. It needs to get back to winning. It needs to get back to winning.
RJ Souza: Dexter Payne has no idea what I am up to. The freaking "Peanut butter and Jelly time" mascot has never had direction. All he knows is that I pissed him off because I called him out on that. Deal with the fact I respect the sport. I don't need an outrageous gimmick to get over. Neither does he.
RJ Souza: You're right, because after I am done with him, no one is ever going to see him the same way again.
RJ Souza: Just make sure you keep up with the changes. I don't want to look stupid when this does go down. I want to make sure every fan of mine in SCWE gets what they have been waiting for. RJ Souza bringing class back to Dexter Payne.
(RJ hangs up the phone. The screen fades to black.....and the diamond label "Karma Klass 99-Hazardous when Pissed Off" flashes )
Voice Over: Ground Zero....Chicago...May29th. You have been warned!!
(Fade to black)
8- The Hype
[It's training day at Joe's Gym in Chicago! All you SCWE fans are invited to come and patronize the fine establishment of local ring veteran Joe "Legs" Baruffi. Just call 773-555-3141 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 773-555-3141 end_of_the_skype_highlighting, and ask about our Windy City Workout package!
C'mon, let's check out the free weights and see wht The Hype are up to.]
Vik: You're up to seven now. Three more, then break.
[The seven-foot chunk of sandstone with the German accent and a lanyard whistle around his neck is Viktor Payne.
Deadlifting on the barbells in sweatpants and a Doors T-shirt is CJ "Mackie" Messer.
The one in the tasteful combination of biker shorts, sweatbands and Vibram five-toe shoes is "Downtown" Danny Nash.]
Vik: Two. One. Decent. If you two can learn to climb a ladder, you may have a respectable showing yet.
[An audible clink as the barbells and dumbbells hit the floor.]
Nash: Pay-Per-View action, baby! Time to step up to the big show. Whaddaya think, Mack?
Messer: I think it... It feels good. I fought on Pay-Per-View once, but I never won nothin' there.
Nash: Yeah, I mean I've been on Pay-Per-View a bunch of times myself, but nothing I could show my mom, y'know?
[A gravelly Harrumph from their trainer threatens to set off nearby car alarms, startling The Hype from their reverie.]
Vik: And do you actually have any kind of plan for this match?
Messer: Yeah! Hit 'em with that left-left-right.
Nash: Then hit 'em with the ladder!
Messer Then don't get hit with the ladder.
Vik: ... Actually, that's a fairly solid strategy. Just remember you're facing four tough brawlers in a free-for-all. Watch your backs.
Nash: The Eskimo Brothers and the Hired Technicians? Tough brawlers they may be, chum, but we're all six fighting for this same spot. All six reaching for that same grand chance. And we've beaten BOTH those teams, one-two-three to the mat!
Messer: Er. Didn't the Hired Technicians actually pin us?
Syn: Let him be, he's on a roll.
[The Hype's esteemed manager enters the scene, quite possibly the first time he's seen the inside of a gym in nearly a decade. He's slurping a thick slurry through a straw.]
Nash: Darn right! Hey boss, whatcha got in the cup?
Syn: Protein shake. The things are almost palatable once you spike 'em with enough vodka.
Vik: The boys were just about to get back to their weight training, weren't you?
Messer: Huh? Oh, yeah! A round of squats now.
Syn: Weights, eh? Y'know, back in the day, I had a fairly respectable benchpress. Lemme see if I've still got the stuff.
Vik: It's been a while. Why don't you go easy, say try that lighter one over there?
[Viktor gestures to a barbell off to one side, lightly loaded with just a couple of plates, sharing a furtive wink with Nash and Messer. Syn sets his libation on the ground, hunkers down to go lift the bar from the floor...]
Syn: Nnngh. NnnrrRRRAAHHH OH HOLY JESUS MY BACK
[The three commiserators only mildly succeed in stifling their laughter. Messer helps drape Syn's crooked form across a weight bench.]
Vik: You really should get out to the weight rooms more often, you miss all the best jokes. For instance, Joe likes to have a light barbell sitting around, bolted to the floor, just to mess with people. That Joe, what a kidder.
Syn: I KNOW ONLY PAIN.
Messer: And yet, somehow knowing this fact encourages me to smile.
[Vik claps a hand on the boxer's shoulder with an approving nod.]
Vik: A very German sentiment, Mackie. I approve Okay fellows, take us out with the catchphrase, and dissolve to commercial.
[CJ Messer mugs to the camera in front of a whimpering Syn, with Danny Nash giving a thumbs-up and a winning smile.]
Messer: The Hype...
Nash: BELIEVE IT.
[This segment has been sponsored by Joe's Gym, located in Garfield Park, Chicago, Illinois. Mention the SCWE sent you, for a discount of half off your enrollment fee!]