(WILD) Light The Fire - Northwest Reign
shaunsi...@yahoo.com
of a RED HOT Double Duty show we head to the Pacific Northwest on our
West Coast swing which will end in LOS ANGELES for our first EVER Pay
per view. As you know before we get to Inferno YOU MUST...
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LIGHT THE FIRE
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+ Northwestern Reign + January 20, 2006 +
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V/O: And now your host for LIGHT THE FIRE, The Hack
PAAAAAAAAAAAAAATRICK HACKETT
[Out walks Hack. He's dressed in a Florida Marlins Josh Beckett jersey
and black Portland Trailblazers hat backwards. He has baggy jeans on
as well. He stands in front of a WILD logo.]
Hack: WOW! Double Duty was complete and utter CHAOS. And I loved every
second of it. We had our FIRST Unleashed Wrestling Championship
awarded that would be THE BIZ Mike Bisignano. We saw The Wicked Clown
retain his WILDStyle Title in a grotesque Pits Of Hell match. And now
for Northwestern Reign we have THREE competitors out. TWO unable to
continue ONE suspended. We're gonna have a DOUBLE debut match
featuring Cash Banks and Bobby Willis. AND we will see the ULTRA
INTENSE Sadistic Insanity Damian Payne take on The Outlaw Morris Bass.
Bring the PAYNE.
[The scene opens up to show Damian Payne in a hotel room someplace...
Maybe it's somewhere in Oregon...Maybe it's not... Payne isn't
saying... Instead he is sitting on the edge of the bed - glaring at
the camera crew...]
Payne: Are you guys ready yet?
[Payne looks kind of annoyed...]
Payne: Can I start? Yeah? Good...
[Payne clears his throat...]
Payne: Sometimes - being on the road as much as I am means that I
don't get to see my family very often...My partner Hannah and my
little boy, Alex... He's two and a half now... I didn't see him take
his first steps... I didn't hear his first words... Sure - he
sees me every week, on the television, but it's not the same... It's
because I'm on the road constantly earning money to send home so that
they can have an easier life... I bust my ass regularly to provide for
my family and because of that it really annoys me when
I pick up a magazine and read a review of WILD's Double Duty and the
only mention I get is something that says the only reason I wasn't on
the main card is because I "bring nothing to the table"...
[Payne scowls at the camera...]
Payne: That has to be the biggest pile of crap I ever heard... Listen
up... I live and breathe for what I do... I have made more sacrifices
than you could possibly imagine... And to be told that I "bring
nothing to the table", by you, someone who couldn't even walk a half a
mile in my shoes - just grates the hell out of me...
[Payne nods...]
Payne: But, I understand... You're just doing your job... I get it...
So this week at Inferno, I'll show you and everybody else just how
much I do bring to the table when I square off against Morris Bass and
I put the stupid squeaky voiced bastard in a hospital bed for the next
month... Sure, Bass is going to give me a hell of a fight... I know
that... I wouldn't expect anything less... But I have something to
prove to Bass and I have something to prove to anyone else that's
watching... Bass is going to get checked in to ChokeBomb Central and
there's not a damn thing that he or anyone else can do about it... Not
even in their dreams...
[Fade to black and back to Hack still standing by the logo.]
Hack: Payne bringing his family into it. Not a bright idea. But I hear
what he is sayin. He did NOT get to perform on the Big Show. But
that's how it works here in WILD ya gotta earn ya spot and he did not
earn it yet. Hopefully he can make some waves and beat Bass. That
would give him a head start at a spot for the LA Pay Per View and
those delicious PPV dollars.
[Hack walks towards and sits at the desk. He lets out a big sigh.]
Hack: What are we gonna do with Tripp Skylark? He has UNLIMITED
potential. He has a tremendous amount of moves and is a GIFTED GIFTED
athletes. But rookie mistakes, cockiness and frankly drinking and
drugs are derailing a young career. He looked like he was about to
pull off the UPSET OF THE CENTURY and then... well this.
[A true legend is not defined by the climatic victories and the long
titles reigns. A true legend is not defined by the countless
victories and routine dominance. No, a _true_ legend is defined by
how he reacts to losing. Does he sit back, whine, cry and bitch some
more? Does it do nothing but sit on the fence, complaining? Or does he
take up arms, and do something about it? Does he shut his trap and
flex his muscle and get something _acoomlished_?]
[The answer for Tripp Skylark is simple: Get something motherfluffin'
accomplished. Tripp, the man who rode into WILD on a wave of success
has done nothing but
falter and fail over and over again here in WILD, has to get something
done and something done quick. His career, his life as he knows it,
is falling part right in front of him. Countless title chances
disappearing. Countless golden opportunities drying up. Soon the
merchandise will stop selling.... Soon the bookers won't be calling...
Soon there won't be nothing left.]
[But not that there's much of Tripp Skylark, as _we_ knew him left.
Sitting there, at the cheap motel table, a cup of black coffee in
front of him, Tripp looks vacant. His eyes are dull, and lack that
flash of the pre-Double Duty days. His hair looks greasy. His skin
unwashed. His clothes unchanged. Trash is all over the room, and
there's no signs of the Doc anywhere.]
[So... How is Tripp responding? Like a true legend? Or a little bitch?
Let's find out!]
TRIPP SKYLARK: So... <Brief nod.> Double Duty came and went, and I...
Well... Got what I refer to as premature ejaculation! Was feeling real
good. Quite confident all my affairs were in order, and everything
was set in stone. But then... Boom, it hit me like a
ton of bricks! <Shakes his head.> Next thing I know... I'm bent in
half, and screaming for my life! It felt as if nails were being nailed
into my back with a sledgehammer! I had no choice.... I took the bitch
way out... I _tapped_.
[He takes a deep breath, sipping at the coffee.]
TRIPP SKYLARK: So Goliath slaughtered David.. Big deal. There's
nothing I can do, but learn from my mistakes. And, no.. <Shakes his
head.> I'm not just talking about going to the top rope when it's not
necessary or putting my head down a bit early.. I'm talking about
_everything_.
[He takes another deep breath, sips and even begins to bite down a bit
on his lip.]
TRIPP SKYLARK: I'm an _athlete_, a _professional wrestler_! I can't
keep doing what I was doing in the bush leagues now. It's a new level
of excellence, one that I have to adhere too, or else.. I'm gonna be
on the losing end of the stick week in and week out, and
I can't fu(%!ng have that. _NO_ _WAY_!
[Blood begins to dribble out from Tripp's lips, as he just grips the
coffee cup harder and harder, knuckles turning white.]
TRIPP SKYLARK: So... Whether I like it o not...Whether I'm gonna enjoy
it or not.. In order to survive, in order to continue to do what I
_truly_ love and that's _wrestling.. I am... <Takes in a deep breath,
and exhales slowly.> I am going to walk into the world of sobriety
with the goal in mind to not only stop smoking, toking, and
drinking... But to work harder, to train harder, to prepare more than
I ever have before!
[Tripp's gripping the cup so hard, his hands now shaking. Also, the
blood from his lip is seeping faster.]
TRIPP SKYLARK: Because... While I can handle losing like another other
chap... While I can handle defeat like your average Joe.. I cannot
handle losing.. losing to _OMEGA_!?!? <Deep, deep breath> Losing to a
low down, dirty filthy sack of pathetic monkey s#!t like Omega...
That's something that I would consider a _grand_ wake up call to the
things that lay await for me down the road I was traveling down. But
this _new_
road...
[A smile comes across Tripp's face. Not one of arrogance or attitude,
but rather... evil.]
TRIPP SKYLARK: This new road will no longer allow me to lose to such
loser as Omega. This new road.. It will bring me greatness that I've
never seen, and it will answer all those critics would say I'm just a
bunch of wasted motherfluffin' potential... Long as I
stay the course... Long as I...
[With Tripp repeating "Long as I stay the course..." over and over
again, his breaks the mug in two with his hands, spilling hot coffee
all over himself. He doesn't even notice as the Doc barges in from
the outside. He screams "Jesus Christ!" before Tripp's
eyes roll into the back of his head and he falls to the ground.
Camera fades, as the Doc rushes over to check his adopted son out.
Back to Hack looking concerned amused and angry]
Hack: That boy ain't right. He has clearly slipped somewhere. I wish
him the best as I enjoy watching him compete and like making fun of
him. He better hope he gets his act together before Trey Lawrenze
busts his head wide open for what he did at Double Duty. Trey Lawrenze
is NOT gonna be happy.
[We switch camera angles as Hack switches gears.]
Hack: Art Blake did NOT quit. He sure looked like a quitter as his
BODY quit on him. Let's catch up with him right after Double Duty.
[Fade in to the rather sparse interior of Art Blake's dark green 1967
Mini as it cruises down I-95 South. It's dark. The clock on the
dashboard indicates that it's 3:22 AM. Blake is occasionally
illuminated by the headlights of passing cars. He looks tired. Very
tired.]
[Flash back to the Manhattan Center. Art lies unconscious in the ring
as Larry Gionet basks in the boos flooding over him from the crowd.
Ring techs scramble around, preparing the ring for the next match. A
pair of EMTs are checking on Art's condition. Unable to bring him
around, they roll him on to a waiting stretcher and wheel him
backstage.]
[Flash ahead to the locker room area at the Manhattan Center. A
battered Art sits patiently as he is examined WILD's highly skilled,
and only slightly drunk medical professional.]
Art: So, what's the word?
Doc: Well, I can think of a few that would fit, but if I had to pick
one, it would be "Ouch".
[Art chuckles.]
Art: Tell me about it. So, are we done here?
[Doc scribbles some notes onto his clipboard.]
Doc: Yeah, we're done, but I'm afraid I can't allow you to wrestle at
Northwest Reign.
[Art looks shocked.]
Art: What?!
Doc: Gionet really did a number on you tonight, and we don't want to
risk you further aggravating your injuries. Just take the week off,
relax, get some rest. You'll be fine in a couple of weeks. Like I
said, this is just precautionary.
[Art sighs.]
Art: Bloody hell.
[Art slides off the exam table and winces in pain as every muscle in
his body tightens up.]
Art: I guess you're right. No sense making things worse than they
need to be.
[Art walks toward the door. His movements are stiff and pained.]
Art: Oh man, it's going to be a long couple of weeks.
[Flash back to the present. The drone of the engine is almost
hypnotic. Art is deep in thought, focused on the road ahead, trying
not to dwell on the events that brought him to this point. Fade out
as it starts to rain. The background behind Hack transforms into a
rainy Portland evening.]
Hack: The Rose Garden is going to see the premier of TWO new addition
to WILD: Wrestling Unleashed at Northwestern Reign. First, is this
young man Bobby Willis... He fancies calling himself, Blitz... but uh.
I
think its stupid... So HEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE'S BOBBY!
[Nothing flashy, Bobby Willis is standing in a parking lot. Looking a
bit fidgetity. Given the nickname "Blitz" from his football days he
starts to give his first promo as a wrestler...]
Growing up, kids have heroes, idols. Some of them are local and
accessible; the fireman, a teacher, a relative. Others are the ones
they don't know, the ones they view from far away but are still
influential and admired; the movie star, the athlete, the politician...
[pauses and smiles]
The professional wrestler. You see I was fortunate to have a
professional wrestler to move in my neighborhood growing up. Us kids
would stop whatever we doing playing, shooting hoops, cutting the
grass, whatever and just watch him as did work around the house, go
out for a run, whatever.
Eventually I got up the nerve to go talk to him and he was a good guy.
I told him that I'd always wanted to be a wrestler and asked him to
help me. He told me to go to school, get an education and get back to
him. So that's what I did.
I finished high school and got into Michigan State University on a
football scholarship. I wasn't the best football player in the world
but I served my time on the defensive line. Over the years we kept in
touch.
Last December, after my junior season was done he asked me if I still
wanted to be a wrestler and I told him that I indeed still did and he
said he start to train me then.
So for the last year, with my studies and football I began training
for the next step of my life, inside the ring.
It begins in Portland with Cash Banks. Mr. Banks I don't know much
about you and that's fine. This is my first match and I'm not going
to make a fool of myself by yelling and screaming about how I'm going
to "kill" or "destroy" you. I'm not that stupid. I'm a rookie, fresh
meat or whatever cliche you want to fill in the blank with. I know
I'm going to make mistakes.
[chuckles]
Actually I'm going to make a lot of mistakes. But all I can do is
step between the ropes, give it my all and hope to minimize those
mistakes.
Win or lose I'm going to be a happy man because I'll of started on the
path of fufilling a dream of mine. But trust me I'm showing up to win.
[We fade from a confident looking Bobby Willis to what appears to be a
cheap hotel room. A bed in the center of the small room, a Television
in front of it on top of a broken down dresser, and a door nearly
falling off it's hinges. In the background, you can hear people
shouting at each other, screaming at the top of their lungs. Hack
provides the voiceover.]
Hack(V/O): Bobby's opponent will be Cash Banks. Good name. Let's see
if he has any talent to go with it.
[There, on the bed, sits Cash Banks, one of the newest additions to
WILD Wrestling. He's reading a book. The title we can't see, realizing
that we're too far away to notice it, but close enough to notice that
it's a book. Cash has a buzz-cut, not bald, but a buzz. When you
picture him, think of Danny Basham. Same build, same hair-cut, only
brown eyes. He looks up to the camera, smiling like a president in his
first day of office.]
CB: Finally you're here.
[Still smiling like his first time having sex.]
CB: This is the _FIRST_ professional wrestling match of my career.
[A shit-grin still fills his face, ear to ear.]
CB: The big one ... the Grand-Daddy ... the night I get to prove
myself. On one of the most prominent nights of wrestling. The WILD
program. Let me tell you people ... I feel honored to be with an
organization like this. And the only to way prove that? WIN.
[His wide smile goes away, as get gets a little more serious about
what he's saying, putting the book down on his lap.]
CB: Anyone can say anything about me ... how I'm a rookie, a
greenhorn, a newbie ... a goddamm amateur to wrestling. But, I don't
care ... I got the heart. I got the nuts. I got a mind sharper than a
knife blade. I got me. I got my son. I got a new beginning.
[Pause.]
CB: And, that means ... that I got _YOU_.
[He points to the camera, "matter-of-fact" look on his face.]
CB: I'm talkin to _YOU ... WILLIS_ . I know you've been in the game a
LOT longer than I have. I know you've got credentials. I know you've
beat names worth mentioning. That's somethin' you can be proud of.
Somethin' you can count on to always be under your name.
[He nods ... agreeing with himself, shrugging his shoulders.]
CB: What do I have compared to you, professional-wrestling-wise?
[He shrugs again, arrogantly, curling his nose up. Smirking.]
CB: Nothin'. Nothin' at all. What I did was _THIS_ ... I signed a
contract. A contract saying I was signed to a company named "WILD".
Not only did I sign that contract with the mind-set that I was gonna'
make some money ... oh no ... I signed that contract _KNOWING_ that
I'm best thing to ever happen to this wrestling business ... _EVER_.
[He cocks his head to the side for an instant, serious look on his
face, mean tone in his voice.]
CB: Wrestling _ANYTHING_. Wrestling _AS A WHOLE_ ... that's me. That's
Cash Banks.
[After pointing to himself, he continues his stare into the camera.]
CB: You just sit back and watch, my friend ...
[He begins to get relaxed, possibly giving a hint to what he's saying.]
CB: Sit back ... pull on that recliner handle with the injuries that
I've givin' you after our match, with an ice-pack on your head and
_WONDER_ how I am the way I am. _THINK_ of what you could've been and
what Cash Banks stopped of you of bein'. You're a nobody to me. A
nobody to anyone I know. After our match ... in the center of a ring
... nowhere to run or hide ... you _WILL_ suffer _SERIOUS_
consequences for even _THINKING_ you're gonna' run over me.
[Pause, meaner demeanor.]
CB: Bobby Willis ... The dreams ... the hopes ... the wishes ... stop
_NOW_. I'm gonna' prove that ... come a couple'a days from now ... as
they say in prison to bitches that don't know any better ... "YOUR ASS
... IS MINE".
[He looks serious for a moment, but changes that to an arrogant grin.]
CB: It's Cash Banks, fellas'. Take notes. Learn how to do what I'm
about to ... and ... TAKE ... O ... VER.
[Camera fades back to Hack leaning against the wall at the back of the
desk, he's looking exasperated holding his hand to the bridge of his
nose.]
Hack: Oh boy! Another tape came in from EVERYONE'S favorite retard.
Your friend and mine... ART BLAKE!
[Fade in to a service station on a dusty, two lane road somewhere in
rural West Virginia. An old tow truck is parked near the garage. Two
young boys, identical twins by the looks of it, wearing frayed blue
denim bib overalls with no shirts or shoes are wrestling in the dirt
while an older man works on an old Dodge Charger in the garage. A
cloud of dust appears down the road, followed by the sound of a car.
The boys stop their wrestling as a dark green Mini streaks down the
road and pulls to a stop at the gas pump. They eye the car
suspiciously as door on the right side of the car opens and Art Blake
steps out. Art looks at the '50's era gas pump, looking for the
credit card slot. He walks toward the garage, smiling and waving at
the boys as he passes them. The boys watch him carefully. After he
passes them, they run over to the car and start checking the tiny
foreign car out.]
Art: Uh, excuse me...
[The older man turns toward Art, taking a rag from his pocket and
wiping his grease covered hands. The man looks at Art distrustfully.]
Cletus: What can I do fer ya?
Art: Surprisingly enough, I need...
[One of the boys is peering in through the Mini's window while the
other bounces on the front bumper. The boy looking through the window
turns towards the older man.]
Bobby Sue Jim Bob Jack: Paw! The steering wheel is on the wrong side!
[Cletus nods at the boy. The other boy climbs up onto the hood at
looks through the front windshield.]
Jim Bob Jack Joe Sid: It's so small!
Cletus: Dangit, you boys get away from that car 'for I beat you.
[The boys scamper back over to the tow truck and start wrestling
again. Cletus looks at Art again.]
Cletus: You ain't from around here, is ya?
Art: No, I'm just passing through.
Cletus: We don't take kindly to strangers 'round these parts, but you
look kind of familiar like. Need some gas then, do ya?
Art: Yeah.
[Cletus walks over to the pump, taking the nozzle, removing the car's
gas cap, and starts filling the car's tank. Cletus inspects the car,
noting some of the more peculiar features.]
Cletus: Awful strange little car you got here. Where's it from?
Art: England.
Cletus: Is that so? Huh. I didn't know they even made cars over
there.
[Art nods, trying not to make eye contact.]
Art: Oh, hey, maybe you can help me. I've heard that The Amazing
Billy Flame lives around here somewhere. He's an old pro wrestler
from the sixties. Huge hero of mine. Maybe you've heard of him?
Cletus: Old Bill? Yup, he lives out on route eighty-five a few miles
from here. He don't get too many visitors, and those what do try to
find him is usually chased off by the dogs or Bill's shotgun. He
don't take kindly to trespassers. You a wrestling fan, are ya?
Art: Wrestler, actually. Always wanted to meet Bill, but he
disappeared from the scene before I ever had a chance. Figured since
I had some time off, thanks to that dick Larry Gionet, I'd try to find
him.
Cletus: Well, you came to the right place, but like I said, he don't
take kindly to trespassers. Yer welcome to try, but I wouldn't
recommend it.
[The pump clicks to a stop. Cletus returns the nozzle to it's place
on the pump, and affixes the gas cap back it's it's usual place.]
Cletus: Twenty dollars
[Art rummages around in his pockets.]
Art: Hmm...you probably don't take credit cards, do you?
Cletus: Credit what?
Art: Didn't think so.
[Art pulls a $20 bill out of his pocket and hands it to Cletus.]
Art: Route eighty-five, eh?
Cletus: Yup, turn left on to eighty-five, then head down the road a
piece. You'll see Old Bill's place. Can't miss it.
Art: Thanks.
[Art waves to the kids, then climbs back into the Mini and drives off
in a cloud of dust. Fade out to Hack seated at the desk, laughing.]
Hack: Larry Gionet knocked him stupid-er. Unfortunatly, no Larry on
the first show after Double Duty as he was suspended for beating my
uncouth broadcast colleague Arron Iron. One match suspension, well
worth it. Roland Dean called out Morris Bass at the start of Double
Duty... The two battled to a double count out. Now The Mystic has the
unenviable position to take on the NEW Number One Contender Champion,
Champion Q Rockefeller let's hear from those two.
V/O: Is this... a dream?
[... A drop of water, invisible lines forming ripples in a dark
pool...]
V/O: No... an illusion then?
[... Another drop, you can see the faint ripples again, but it is
almost as if you are seeing them from within an mirror...]
V/O: Wait... I remember this...
[... More drops... rain perhaps...]
V/O: Reality?..
[... The water is rustling back and forth now, but you can see a faint
hint of color to the outside of the darkness now...]
V/O: Yes, the nightmare...
[... With the zoom continuing at a rapid pace we can see Roland Dean,
now standing in the rain. He stands on a white sandy beach at a dark
hour of the night. He stands somewhere that he seems to be at home...]
RD: ... has just begun.
[... Roland cocks his head to the right ever so slightly to
acknowledge the camera's existence, his gaze turns to the moon almost
in an instance...]
RD: How does a man convince himself that the lies are true Champ? How
does he look into the mirror and smile at the cracked and faded image
of the man who stands before it? You do it so well, I almost forget
it's an act. You do it so well, I almost forget that I've seen this
song and dance before. So, I must know something Champ.
[... Roland looks back at the camera...]
RD: Does it... hurt?
[... A big grin comes across the face of Roland Dean...]
RD: Oh, Champ, how it all must hurt. You must tell me, when we're
alone in that ring this week, of the pain you've endured.
[... Roland now drops his chin to his chest...]
RD: You must tell me of the times you stand in a quiet room and can
hear the echo of the man you really are calling you. You must tell me
of the moments when you flinch at the sight of the shadow of the real
man that resides inside you. You must tell me where he hides, you must
tell me his name, you must tell me...
[... Roland chuckles as he begins to walk and we catch out first view
of the dark waves behind us...]
RD: ... if he's dead.
[... Somehow, the raindrops seem heavier after that last comment...]
RD: For I fear that you have killed him Champ. I fear that behind all
the jokes and the running, you've lost something more precious than
anything you've found. On your quest for lofty goals you can never
achieve, you have lost sight of what you really are.
[... Roland pauses for a moment...]
RD: An ordinary man attempting extraordinary things. That, is your
reality Champ.
[... Another fun as the man in black slowly makes his way down the
bank of albino sand...]
RD: The act has gotten you this far Champ, but the reality will kill
you. Your fading elegance and false grace don't belong in the prison
you walk into this week. Your trickery may have worked on men like
Lawrenze and Omega, but there are men who cast aside long ago. These
are men with a passion for second place and a desire for not going far
enough.
[... Roland chuckles...]
RD: I am not held by back such ideals Champ. I am not bound by the
rules of the fake world in which you live. I urge you to find what you
have lost Champ. Because if you walk into the ring this week, if you
enter that prison, there will be no ring post to save you from the
fate in which I've begun to deal.
[... The camera begins to zoom in on Roland again as he stops to gaze
into the dark depths once more...]
RD: The nightmare will begin. Your reputation will be shot. Your
contender status, a punch line. In short.
[... Small beads on black glass is all we see...]
RD: You will become just another name, on the list.
[... The sound of the storm begins... and then... it's gone...]
Hack(V/O): My God is that man gay. ChaRock is gonna MOP the floor with
him. Let's hear from the hero of million AAAAAAAAAAAAAAND Millions of
Champites.
[SCENE: Open to a slow-motion, black-and-white, digitally distorted
video clip... it is Double Duty, and it is Omega dutifully powerboming
Our Eternal Protagonist into the corner turnbuckle. The deep-voiced
cat from action movie previews begins his spiel, as the slow-motion
video crawls to a stop, just as Rockefeller's cranium is about to be
caved in with the maneuver...]
v/o: "...double duty..."
[The tape quickly speeds up to twice-normal speed, then reverses, in
effect delivering the
nearly-knockout blow to Rockefeller three times in succession. Upon
the third "attempt," the screen dissolves to static, then to a white
pinpoint of light, then black. The voice of Arron Iron, from the
pay-per-view, echoing over the blackness:]
AI: "...what we are struggling to describe... powerbombing Rockefeller
into the top turnbuckle... may have suffered a concussion... a
concussion... a concussion..."
[The voice fades out, as a still photograph of Rockefeller getting the
victory with a schoolboy rollup comes into focus.]
v/o: "...an evening... for redemption..."
[Still photograph blends into slow-motion video of Rockefeller, hand
raised, backing away from the ring and towards the entrance curtain,
with disheveled hair and an exhausted, sweat-drenched figure.]
v/o: "...an evening... for a rise to prominence-a living, breathing
American legend, forged from the fiery depths of the Top Contendership
Cauldron, sprung forth from the ample bosoms of Freedom and Justice..."
[Champ Rockefeller, in full, vibrant color, standing in front of an
American flag that dances in the wind, much like Rockefeller's oiled
pectorals dance to the steadily increasing beat of the generic
patriotic filler music.]
v/o: "...the Legend of ChaRock and the Number One Contendership was
born that night, and will be told to the great grandchildren of your
great grandchildren, with eyes wide and breaths heavy with
excitement..."
CR: [turning towards the camera] "...and that's just the beginning of
my quest. WILD has only seen the first act of my Odyssey--my
Iliad--my Da Vinci Code. Champion Rockefeller's Rise to Prominence
only truly began when Omega was utterly destroyed in our epic battle
at Double Duty. Act two approaches--a public celebration of profound
greatness, where I am crowned the Just and True Top Contender to the
Unleashed Championship, followed by a perfunctory display of my
awesome wrestling prowess against a clearly inferior opponent.
"What? What's that you say? 'The Mystic' Roland Dean is no inferior
opponent? I charge you, viewer-prove it! The man has nicknamed
himself as an Alchemist! A magician! A sorcerer! A fraud! He lives
and dies by illusion. Is this someone you want to trust, America? Is
this someone you want to get behind? A man who, by his very nature,
is hell-bent on deceiving those that support him in his quest for
professional
wrestling success?
"I say--no! Cast your vote for Champion Q. Rockefeller The Third,
Eternal Protagonist, Top Contender for the Unleashed Wrestling
Championship. A _real_ American hero. A man who needs no veil to
hide behind, no smokescreen of sorcery to confuse and
deceive opponents.
"Choose brutal honesty.
"Choose a straight shooter.
"Choose the man who you know, you trust, and you
love...
"Choose Champ Rockefeller.
"And Bisignano, enjoy that belt while you can, because
soon enough, it'll be mine."
[He returns to his heroic pose, as we slowly dissolve back to the
black screen. Back to Hack who has about three uniformed security
guards surrounding him.]
Hack: I'd vote for Champ. For President. For World Champion. HELL! I'd
even vote for him for Pope.
[Hack, pauses and looks around.]
Hack: Oh right, the armed security. Let's just say... I AM TERRIFIED OF
OMEGA. Luckily I don't think he's here...but he did give us this gem.
[The shoulder shaped dent on the wall proves Omega isn't right in the
head. He is sitting on the edge of his bed, hands shaking, jaw
quivering. The vacant look in his eyes staring at his hands makes you
wonder, what is going on in his head. The soft laughter of that
bestial voice seems to fill the room.]
Voice:(beastial) Lost again huh?
[Omega's vacant eyes raise slowly, a small bit of life sparking but
going out.]
Voice: You didn't let me play. You popped your shoulder back into
place and it left you without your..._fire_...didn't it.
[Zombie like Omega nods his head.]
Voice: Now you face a man who was put through hell and came out on
top. You face the Jester.
[Omega's eyes flare breifly, insenity spiking at the name.]
Voice: A man who has only won by using gimmick matches and that has
never pinned your shoulders to the ground. Now he has another gimmick
match, and you get to be the spoiler now, don't you?
[Omega's hands stop shaking. His eyes seem to slowly fill with...rage.
His hands slowly curl into fists. A devilish smile creeps across his
face.]
Omega: (growling) Jester gets to be my punching bag. Champ gets to
feel my wrath. Biz will taste defeat at my hands.
[Omega's stands up and starts to breath heavily. The voice chuckles
again.]
Voice: Slow down there _beast_. You have to survive Jester first.
Omega: (glaring in the direction of the voice) But its just like you
said, he has never pinned me.
Voice: And he doesn't have to now. He just has to lock you up like the
animal that you are.
Omega: (growling) Like he did?
Voice: Exactly. Treat him like...
[The phone rings. Omega slowly turns his head toward the ringing
phone.]
Voice: Ignore that and listen to me.
[Omega slowly turns back toward the voice.]
Voice: Let your hatred of Champ, Biz, Spartan, Jester, and everyone
boil inside. Destroy those in your way...let the beast inside out to
feed. Let the beast inside run...destroy...maim...devour. Become again
what should be feared instead of what should be mocked.
[Omega lets out a roar and begins to shake with rage. The little red
light on his motel phone begins to drink.]
Voice: Ohh look, you have a message. (sounds as if the voice is
smiling) You appear to have a message.
[Fade to Hack!]
Hack: Every time I see one of his promos, I just feel...un easy.
Honestly, let's go in depth into to The Hack for a second... Omega,
gives me nightmares. THERE I SAID IT!
[Angle change.]
Hack: Omega and ChaRock have emerged as the two top contenders to THIS
man's Unleashed Wrestling Championship...
[Double Duty is over and we are looking at Toxic Shock who is standing
outside of the backstage entrance to the Manhattan Center. Out walks
Marty Lyons, Lance Williams, James Robinson and finally the NEW WILD
Unleashed champion, The Biz.]
TS: Marty...over here.
[The 4 men look over and see Toxie standing there so they walk over.]
ML: Toxic Shock...my good buddy. Always going that extra step to get
the scoop, even if it means standing in the FREEZING cold weather. So
what's up?
TS: Well I was hoping you could shed some light on what brought you,
James, and Lance to the event tonight.
ML: Hmm...I'm gonna say taxi for them and private car for myself but
that would just be sarcastic.
We came back for one reason and one reason only - to support a member
of our family.
[Marty pauses]
Well actually, a member of MY family and a long time friend of Lance
and James.
[Toxie is kind of confused as Marty continues to speak]
For you see, my real name is Vincent Bisignano and that makes Michael
my son. I chose the name Marty Lyons for the simple fact that nobody
would ever trust an agent with the last name Bisignano. Michael always
wanted to be a wrestler and he looked up to everyone I was around in
this business as a role model. The whole time I managed Lance and
James back in WILD's days of old, Michael was watching their matches
and learning from them.
But that's not why we're here tonight.
It's Two Thousand and Six and it's a new era for WILD. The big thing
going on for us is that The Biz is the champ and just like Shane
Douglas had The Triple Threat or Triple H
had Evolution or even Ric Flair with The Four Horsemen, a champion
needs people around him that he can trust no matter what.
So from now on, whenever you see The Biz, you see me and you see Real
Xtreme because together, the four of us are ...
NEW YORK'S FINEST!
Now if you excuse us, we've got some celebrating to do tonight. You're
more than welcome to join us, just come to Scores over on the Westside
Highway.
[The four men walk away from Toxic Shock and heads towards the same
car that Marty got out of earlier in the evening. It drives off
towards the Westside Highway as we fade out. Hack is sitting on the
desk kicking his feet against it.]
Hack: Hm. Looks like we got our first stable here in WILD. New York's
Finest looks like a collection of Douche Bags to me. But whatever.
Another New Yorker who gave his BEST performance ever at Double Duty
was Angel "enchilada" Martinez. He beat Vik Avatar, who is still in
the hospital, two falls to NONE in their best of three contest. This
week he goes against fan favorite JAAAAAAAAAAVVY KING!
[Welcome to the Trump Taj Mahal, almost live, in Atlantic City, New
Jersey, just outside the casino..... casually dressed, with the grin
that's the best, it's Angel 'Syko' Martinez.]
Tox: You're a half hour late, Angel.
Syko: SO what man?! I was on a run and a half! You think I'm gonna
come out here to see YOU, when I'm up like that?
Tox: True. Raising money for the ten thousand dollar challenge, I see?
Syko: Heh... word does spread quick, doesn't it? I guess that's what
being this business' most underrated superstar is all about. While
people like Larry Gionet, Adam Mitchell, and a couple others are out
getting awards for god only knows what, I'm bringing things to that
NEXT level. What I did, with that sack of shit, Vik Avatar is the tip
of the iceberg. Look at him now. Anytime your only appearance is 'We
don't know his condition', that's not good for your career.... but
that's what he gets. And people in WILD, despite whetever 'standing'
they may have...are going to start getting exactly what they deserve.
That brings me to you, Javier King.
You, as far as I can see..... are a very promising prospect here in
WILD. I see a lot of myself in you. A young guy that likes to fly
around the ring, get the crowd jacked, and get things going. So when
it was announced that I'd have the chance to face you, I saw enough in
you to want to do something nobody ever did for me coming up. When I
was touring around the states, man, back in the day, in a beat up car,
living outta shitty ass motels,trying to catch a break, if had had
more money, I coulda maybe done a little better for myself.
So here it is on a silver platter for you. You beat me, Javier King,
and show the world you're the new hot deal, and you get yourself ten
grand. You can go celebrate.... maybe get some t-shirts printed...
pay a bill or twenty..... and have the satisfaction of knowing you
beat someone who could very easily bust your ass. But I want you
properly motivated. I wanna see what you're really about. You may have
the raw talent.....you're certainly more of a threat than Vik Avatar
ever was, but I drew the anger and the hunger out of him and made it
my own.... I used his aggression againt him.... and now you see who's
standing today.....
Now, ROOKIE.... It's your turn to get tested against the true wonder
of WILD. How far will you go for a s#!tload of cash? That's right,
cash, paid to you that night. The money is sitting in an envelope in a
safe in WILD Offices right now. And all you gotta do is win. No catch,
no bulls#!t. And I get the satisfaction of knowing you're gonna take
it that extra step, because right now, ten thousand dollars probably
sounds real good to you and your cause. Who knows, you might have
child support due or something.... Just know that I'm doing this
because I want the best you can bring. I swear, I can see it when I
watch the tapes... now I wanna see it for real, if you can really
stack up.....
Not to mention, quite honestly.... you can learn a lot from getting
into the ring with me. And trust me when I say, I'm not just gonna
hand you the money and say good job, like these guys who get their
name mentioned when they haven't show me a damn thing.... You are
gonna earn every penny. You're coming up against a man who's stock is
rising so fast, they thought my name was Google, and despite whether I
like you or not, my job is to go out, entertain the shit out of the
world, get the win, and go home. I'm not gonna like going home down
ten dimes. so you can make damn sure I'll be kicking enough ass on my
own to make sure that money goes to my important expenses, like coke,
strippers, and booze...
I'm kidding about that last part. Really. But Javier.... remember this
if nothing else anyone ever tells you in this entire business. There's
a lot of scumbags, [EDIT], assholes, no-talents, backstabbers, and a
billion other people that will f-- you over a billion ways to Sunday.
But if and whenever you get an opportunity to show what you're made
of....
Take it. You may never get another one like it again. I'd say that
about covers everything relevant you were gonna ssk me for, right Tox?
Tox: Actually, no. You know more of what went on at WILD Offices
earlier today.... Is Krumm signed or not?
Syko: That's between him and WILD. I don't know anything about him
signing anything. Obviously, he's my homeboy, I think he'd make a
great asset here in WILD, but there are other offers and
considerations.... he even caught some heat for calling that match for
control of the bones of ReRaw a draw..... so I really don't know where
he stands right now. All I know is right now, I'm doing my thing
regardless, and fuck worrying about who else signed. As fart as I'm
concerned, it's just more meat to throw on the red hot grill that is
my career. They could sign Krumm, they can sign Spikowski, they can go
whoever the f-- they want..... go get some of those high numbered guys
on those awards.... But know this. I'm where the money is. If you
don't believe me, look at my contract. Look at what I draw, and how
much I do around here. Who else has the balls to put up their own
money against some unknown who looks like he's at least got a shot? Go
ask Larry Gionet's cheap ass to do it. The man hasn't tipped a
waitress in every city we've gone to so far, let alone stepped up
enough to get the job done in such a situation. Hell, Javy might be
able to kick Larry's ass, now that I think about it.But any way you
look at it..... whether it be some awards in some rag..... or just
plain gettin' it done..... don't get it twisted... I'M STILL NUMBER
ONE.
Now f-- off, I'm gambling.
[With that, Syko leaves a quiet Toxic Shock standing there in
disbelief.... even he just makes the 'cut' motion with his hand....
and we fade as Syko runs back into the casino. Hack is standing on top
of the desk... why I don't know.]
Hack: Stupid Mice problem. Sure WILD may be moving out to bigger
arenas, better equipment. But the WILD studio has MICE. Stupid
fricking MICE. Another problem we have in WILD. Its an epidemic... ok
its only one. But its one pissed off insane sociopath clown. And to
me... ONE in enough for an epidemic.
[We are outside of the area, post Double Duty. The sky is dark
outside and the fans have all gone home from a major night of
excitement. Out from the back steps "Jester" Chad Allen in street
clothes and some dark sunglasses to cover some (but definitely not
all) of his injuries from the 6 Pits of Hell match. He carries a black
duffle bag in one hand, and is looking for his car keys with the other
as Toxic Shock seemingly comes from the shadows with a mic in his hand
and a question for a Wicked Clown.]
TS: Jester! A couple of questions before you go, how do you feel after
your brutal Six Pits of Hell match with Spartan?
[Jester tips his glasses down a bit, showing off 2 black eyes, as well
as some other bruising and cuts on his forehead. He looks Toxie up
and down with a quizzical look, as would anyone who was just asked a
question in the middle of the night by a man in a toxic waste suit.]
JCA: Wow Toxie, all that time waiting for me, and that was the best
you've got, huh? How do I feel after I was dragged through nails,
broken records, salt, and other implements of torture, and then to end
it all off, having to sacrifice my body into a pit of fire to help me
win?
[Toxie looks on, waiting for an answer, as Jester begins to let out
his trademark smile, even more disturbing when he is not in paint]
JCA: I LOVED IT. Most fun I have had in a day, and making that moron
Spartan spurt blood like a fountain is the highlight of my holiday
season! I am telling you Toxie, sitting in the back locker room, just
waiting for my name to get called to come to the ring, it was like
waiting for Santa Claus! One day seemed to stretch on for weeks at a
time! But in the end, it was all worth it to beat Spartan up like a
piñata and come out with my WILDStyle title still around my waist.
Toxie: and speaking of titles, what do you think of The Biz winning
the Unleashed Title in the Half and Half Cage Match tonight?
[Jester's smile quickly dissipates. The look goes from happiness to
hellfire in 2.2 seconds, and Jester's voice goes low and serious]
JCA: Now Toxie, why would you do that to me? Why would you go and
kill my buzz? I was all happy about my match, the one that TRULY
stole the show, and you go and bring me down by bringing up The Biz
match?
TS: I'm sorry Jester it wa...
[Jester quickly grabs Toxie by his suit and lifts him close to him,
almost completely off of the ground. Jester does not yell at him
though, but talks in the same evil hushed tone]
JCA: Oh Toxie, that wasn't just a question, that was a personal
affront on me, I think. But you want to know what I think of Biz?
Come to Inferno, and I will be HAPPY to let to world know EXACTLY what
I think. Now do me a favor, make like a tree and f*bleed*ck off.
[Jester puts Toxie back down, and storms off to his car as we fade
back to Hack cautiously sitting at his chair.]
Hack: That's all for us here out in Bethpage... we will catch up with
all you WILD-o-philes out in the Pacific Northwest. For the first leg
of our tour out there its Northwestern Reign and it is coming at you
LIIIIIIIVE from the Rose Garden. It will feature Omega against the
WILDStyle champion Chad Allen in a JAILBlazers match. Plus much more
great action. AND REMEMBER IF YOU CAN'T BE WITH US LIVE...
Buncha-recorded voices: BUT THE DVD!
Hack: What the hell?
[WILD Logo.]
"we're all born to die... Some are just hell bent on being first in
line"
[cold laughter pierces the stillness.]
[Trey Lawrenze is seated on a set of long-forgotten steps leading to a
long forgotten home. Dilapidated would be an appropriate word to
describe the house that is half burnt and collapsed from an inferno
from a day gone by. The remaining windows are all shattered, and what
was once white paint has either peeled away or taken a dingy yellow
color. Lawrenze is dressed in standard garb, baggy blue jeans and a
white Enyce hoodey, the hood pulled over his bandana covered head.]
"It would appear to me that Tripp Skylark is _begging_ to be first in
line. Be careful what you wish for scrub, because I'm aiming to give
it to 'ya. The pre-school antics you have shown such a fondness for
aren't gonna get 'ya anything but a personalized body bag. 'Ya feel
me?"
[He rises off the steps.]
"Maybe you happened to forget I already beat 'yer ass. Or maybe you
where hitting the bong while I was giving Chump Rockefeller the prison
treatment. One thing I can suggest though, is lay off the mary-jane.
get your [beeping] head outta the clouds and check back into reality.
Your punch and judy act might fly on your planet of moonbeams and
lollipops, but the truth of the matter is, come the 25th in the Rose
Garden, you will find yourself in a position that you have no way out
of. You've run 'yer [beeping] trap, you've interfered in my matches,
and you will pay for it. Soon enough no games gonna save yer sorry
ass. Doc won't be able to help 'ya. You'll be standing across the ring
from a guy that wants to do nothing more than make you suffer."
[he smirks]
"_me_. The guy thats played Ike to your Tina every step of the way. I
don't care if you and your proctologist believe your own hype or not.
Its not about a title shot for me bitch-boy. As far as I'm concerned
you can have the title shot. Wins and losses mean nothing this time
around Tripp. The only thing I can promise you and WILD is that you're
going to wish your mother had gotten that abortion. You can walk
around chest all puffed out and run yer mouth like you think someone
out there actually cares. Its not gonna change a thing."
[He cracks his knuckles.]
"You're gonna get beat like you stole something from me. You think
you've known pain in your life kid... You will soon enough. Your
entire existence is going to seem like a walk in the park when I get
done making you my little bitch. Your dime a dozen pedigree, your
backstory... You're gonna find out real soon that they mean absolutely
_nothing_. You can make all the cute little DVD's 'ya want. Thats not
gonna change anything either. You've got nothing left to rely on but
your god given ability... Against me? Thats like bringing a knife to a
gun fight."
[He spits.]
"Lemme put it like this, so even you can understand it. You've heard
the phrase "Like a bull in a china shop?" Rose Garden... the
Twenty-fifth... I'll play the bull."
[He grins]
"And you'll play the china shop..."
"Believe that..."
[Fade]