SCENE BEGINS
(From black, we fade into a room of practically no light, except for the sunlight streaming through the window blinds. After a moment of visual adjustment, more details about the room become clear. It seems to be a diner, as indicated by the long counter against one side of the room accompanied with a row of stools. Against the other wall is a line of booths.)
(The camera slowly tracks forward, revealing the finer details of this diner, which looks abandoned. It definitely hasn't been serviced in a long time. Several of the leather surfaces on the stools and in the booth seats are torn and spilling contents of stuffing. The floor, which may have once been a simple mosaic of patterned colors, is missing several tiles and littered in dirt, broken glass, shattered dishes, torn napkins, and discarded silverware. The counter looks like it hasn't seen a rag in years, holding a plethora of stains from broken ketchup bottles and trails of salt and pepper from spilled shakers. A lone menu sits idly on one stool, perhaps a final remnant of what this small family restaurant may have been in the past, a long while ago.)
(The camera continues forward through this decrepit scene, coming to rest on the final table in the corner, where a silhouetted figure sits with his legs propped up on the seat. In front of him, a bottle of beer--not a soda, not a water, not a coffee or any other drinking beverage; a cold, hard beer in a brown bottle. Near a broken ashtray, on a small saucer, there is a mold-covered pastry. We can't see his face, but by his jeans, shirt, and jacket, there's no question as to who this man is.)
Rocko Daymon
Main Frame... seems so close, yet so far away at the same time. I heavily anticipate the date, and all that will take place...
Naturally, I'm not only speaking about this ten man battle royale. If all I had to worry about was a meaningless demonstration of egos and wit prior to a Pay Per View, then I wouldn't even bother showing up. Nothing's on the line, after all. But because I have other plans, I might as well participate. Doesn't hurt to break a few egos before the true test comes at Superiority II.
Oh, and as for my other plans? Well... I wouldn't want to give away too much.
(Daymon leans forward, his face revealed in the dim sunlight coming from the window. He puts on a half-smile and winks.)
Rocko Daymon
Lately, you might have noticed a trend in the locations in which I choose to film myself, not unlike another person involved in this match, who seems to be taking an opposite approach. But while this person attempts to make a comparison between his success in the ring and his enviroment (and sadly fails to succeed), I intend to make a more powerful statement.
Whether it's Evol in a ritzy restaurant or Waring in a hip club, I think it's truly obvious... that where one chooses to dwell doesn't do much to determine how he fights. I could do a promo in any of those places, had I wanted to... but to me, it seems pointless to flaunt my success in places OUTSIDE the ring. I could be the wealthiest man in the universe, but does that make me the strongest? I, personally, don't see that connection.
My point in being in this ****-hole is to show that it doesn't matter where you choose to cut your promo... you're only as good as your talent, and if that doesn't help you in the ring, then it really doesn't matter where you choose to publicize your speeches. You can see my opponents surrounded by their luxuries, their duties, and their servants... but me?
(He holds up his hands and looks around.)
Rocko Daymon
I don't believe in bull****. No fancy-shmancy decorations. No pretending to be engaged in important conversations on the phone. No hired people acting like my trainer or my secretary or anything. No bull****, whatsoever... just me and what I have to bring to the table.
That's just the way I act in the ring.
(Daymon grabs ahold of the beer bottle before him and takes a healthy swig. He suddenly looks at it, and smirks: The brand is Miller Lite.)
Rocko Daymon
You know, have you seen those commercials where someone says, "Miller Lite tastes better than Bud Light," and the guy drinking the Bud suddenly flips out? Then, rather bluntly, it says, "The truth hurts." That statement couldn't be any more true, and I'm sure that, too, hurts someone out there living in his own delusional reality.
I cut one promo, and suddenly there's quite an uproar of people against me. First, Evol dedicates an entire promo in my honor... then T. Waring says a little something about me... and finally, Tyrone Walker also hops onto the bandwagon and says his own piece.
Let's do this one man at a time... starting first with my least favorite and perhaps the most annoying of the three, Evol.
(Another sip of his beer, finishing the rest of it. He wipes his lips with the cuff of his jacket, and begins.)
Rocko Daymon
Congratulations, once again, Evol, in developing yet another meaningless promo where you once again flaunt your inability to present a point. This time, however, rather than gracing us with your usual rap in making an illogical point, you go into excess about how you don't care about my backstory or my personal life--something which is totally irrelevant to ANYTHING involved in this match, and was only mentioned to further underline my MAIN point.
Well, I'm glad you don't care, Evol... you should be concerned about other things, like how your'e going to move on from one hard defeat at Main Frame to a similar fate at Superiority II. The next time you decide to speak, however, I only ask that you at least TRY to understand my message instead of commenting on various tidbits you remember my mentioning.
I could talk about how much I think Cyrio is a stupid name, but is that relevant? No, so let's not bring it up.
Let me just get something straight, Evol: I'm not trying to find pity here. I'm not bragging about anything. I'm only trying to make a single point, which is this: You are not half as intelligent as you think you are, and your skill in the ring is laughable. It seems you missed that while you were caught up thinking about my wife's paycheck.
You see, Evol... your speeches... your "analogies" between your office and your success in the ring... it's all bull**** to my ears, and as I said earlier, I don't believe in the stuff. You do a promo in an office... and somehow, that means you're going to be the next International Champion? Am I missing something here? Since when does a person's WEALTH prove anything after the bell rings? You think accomplishments prove how well a man fights in the ring? You think throwing a wad of cash into my face and engaging in deep philosophical debate is going to save your ass?
(Daymon scoffs and rolls his eyes.)
Rocko Daymon
These are the kind of things I don't GET about you, Evol... and no, that doesn't mean I don't have the mental capacity to understand your "superior intellect". You see, you just say these things that... don't make sense. "Look at my office! Ain't it great? It's so good, it just goes to show how damn good I am in the ring!" Or my recent favorite, "I made a killing in the stock market! Anybody can succeed, and that obviously means I can do the same in the ring!" I mean, don't you even realize how STUPID that sounds?
You're a Psych Major... so obviously you should know what "denial" is all about. I would say you were in some heavy denial of your own ego and abilities, but you'd only turn around and deny that too, further proving my point. Apparently, you haven't noticed the fact that every time you've stepped in the ring for the past couple shows, you've boffed the victory. In fact, you have YET to have beaten me in any match we've been in together. You're damn lucky Taylor interrupted our match before I had the opportunity to hand you your ass fully.
So much for your financial success being in any way similar to your career as a professional wrestler. You may have excelled in one field, but you have failed in the other.
If you think accomplishments define a person's intellect or skill, then you're wrong. Look at our own president. I'd say he's pretty accomplished... but strangely, he can't seem to make any sense of the English language. I wouldn't be surprised if the two of you took the same course in Public Speaking.
I'm surprised that for a man of your "intellectual" stature, you seem to not understand the definition of half of your vocabulary.
You seem to think I don't know what an analogy is, but after watching your frequent failures in making ANY decent comparison to your skill or your determination, sometimes I wonder if YOU know the correct definition. Just to be sure, I'm going to present a good, simple, and ACCURATE analogy right here and now... strictly as an example, so by the time this promo is over, hopefully, YOU'LL know what it is, and I won't have to suffer a headache every time I try to comprehend your illogical future promos.
(He pulls near the plate with the rotten pastry resting on it.)
Rocko Daymon
You see, your talent... is kind of like this rotten donut.
Physically, there's absolutely no comparison--one abstract, one concrete... but the two are alike in one way:
They both stink!
(With disgust, he throws the plate aside, much like any decent fed owner would toss aside Evol's resume after a brief glance. The sound of the plate breaking somewhere off-screen can be heard.)
Rocko Daymon
The truth hurts, huh? I guess the ad reps at Miller knew more than they realized.
But now you know what a true and ACCURATE analogy is. I hope this experience has enlightened you, and maybe that dim Christmas Tree light flickering over your head can gain a little more radiance.
I guess this just goes to prove how overrated four years can really be while spent smoking pot in a dormitory at Princeton while Mommy and Daddy back home pay for classes. You see, Evol, an intelligent man doesn't require a college diploma to be hanging on his wall. I myself never had the opportunity to receive any post-secondary education, but that doesn't hold me back.
Unlike you, I won't try and unsuccessfully flaunt my intellect, because I know I have one.
Since the day I witnessed your first promo, I've noticed this trend where you're always trying to play on the fact that you think you're "smarter" than everybody else, and that somehow gives you an advantage. Well, you can have your diploma... you can have your fancy office... but neither of them make up for the fact that you blatantly SUCK in that ring, and whenever you appear in front of a camera your IQ noticeably PLUMMETS.
You've got a lot of spirit and determination, Evol, and I admire that, but there isn't half a brain in your head, and that's what's holding you back. If you think you can walk away with the victory in this battle royale--or with "your" International Title at Superiority II, for that matter--then you're sadly mistaken. You forget that I'm standing in your way, and in spite of our frequent meetings in the past, you've never proven to be in any way better.
Keep in mind, Evol, that the reason why I focus on you so much has nothing to do with fear. The simple truth is, for all the times we've fought each other, you've learned nothing in spite of your constant failings. Once again, you're standing in my way to the International Title, shooting the same pointless promos and annoying the hell out of me to no end. If I had any goal in this match, it would be to bust you up to the extent that you actually realize you ARE inferior to me in talent, and then, MAYBE THEN, I can be free from another string of your nonsensical promos, at least for the week leading up to Superiority II.
The less focus I put on you, the better, because I'd rather focus on those who present TRUE threats to my success.
With that said, I'm done verbally spanking you, for now. Maybe, by the grace of God, you can pull the stupid stick out of your nose and give me a decent reply, but my gut instinct tells me that probably won't happen.
(He shrugs, puts on a sarcastic smirk, takes a beat to let it all sink in, and moves on as plan.)
Rocko Daymon
Next on my agenda is the new guy... "Corporal" T. Waring, or whatever rank he's going by. Got the right amount of confidence... might have some talent, but we can only wait and see about that... but does he have a chance in this match? Not really, besides the fact that, in my opinion, people only win battle royales based on luck, and not on talent--though I could be wrong. How about the International Title? Any chance?
Nope. Don't see it. I might be a little biased, but when you've been kicking ass for seven years of my life, you develop a bit of a sixth sense. A warrior's intuition, if you will. You look at the facts, and you make a prediction. Depending on how long you've been wrestling, that prediction may come out accurately.
Waring... he's determined... he may be skilled... but that's not enough to win. He's not prepared to fight, and therefore not prepared for victory. It's sad that he thinks he'll win just because he does well "everywhere else".
(With a tsk-tsk, Rocko shakes his head.)
Rocko Daymon
Kid, take it from me... I've been in the business for a while.
Now, I know every time a wrestler enters a new fed, maybe with a few months of experience under his belt--maybe NO experience, in some situations--he enters with bright eyes, looking forward to a future of fame and glory. He thinks he'll take the competition by storm, end up with a perfect record, have a plethora of belts to his name, all within a small amount of time. He thinks he'll be a legend, made overnight.
I know it's sometimes fun to jump into the land of fantasy... but unfortunately, we live in the real world. Only in rare circumstances does something like that happen to a rookie wrestler. You might think that just because you've dominated a few bush leagues that nobody's heard of that you're poised to make an impact in this new frontier, but EUWC is the big leagues, amigo. This is no place for a green wrestler who had a few lucky streaks doing matches in highschool gymnasiums through a handful of indy feds where someone can simply stroll in off the streets and say he's going to change everything. I worked to hard to allow myself to be beaten by a rook who's grown too big for his britches.
I've seen guys like you all the time in my seven years, Waring. Always the cocky kid, never paying respect where it's due. The young buck you see yourself as frequently turns out to be nothing more than a young shmuck, if you will. All you're doing is setting yourself up to look like a fool. What's going to happen after I slap you around that ring, at Main Frame, the Pay Per View, or both? Would you be too ashamed to even show your face again after your crushing loss?
(He holds his hands out in a gesture allowing his audience to ponder this.)
Rocko Daymon
Now, you may think I'm being a little presumptious in assuming you have no chance... but do you really expect to win, especially against nine opponents you've never faced before? Based upon your promos, it seems pretty obvious that you're not really making a good effort in RESEARCHING your opponents. How can I tell?
For starters, you didn't once pronounce my last name correctly. Let's walk through it together: DAY-MUN. That's not too hard for you, is it? Additionally, rather than watching the promos yourself, you have to have your secretary come in and summarize everything for you. If you're not going to make the effort to study how your opponents think and rationalize first-hand through their promos, how do you expect to prepare yourself MENTALLY for what is to come?
You disappointment me, Waring. A vigilante rookie would learn as much as he can about seasoned veterans he is going up against, but you blow it all off, assuming that just because you got lucky in the bush leagues, you can do it again in the majors. Sorry, kid, it just doesn't work that way... not in my many years of experience, and I'm sorry to say that I don't see anything in you that would make me think any different.
I mean, just because your friends come in and nod their heads to their every word doesn't mean you're right all the time. It means they're kissing your ass.
In short, get your head screwed on right, or just freakin' lay down, because any effort you put forward in an attempt to steal my victory would be a waste. I'm close to taking the International Title that I've worked so hard for, and I'm not going to let a power-tripping rook take that away from me.
As for my financial matters... well, that's none of your concern. In truth, after working for seven years, I have earned more money than you've probably seen in your life. I could show you my own clubs--I own three of them, two in Seattle, one in Los Angeles--or my mansion in Tacoma, or the five luxury cars in my garage... but it's just like I told Evol: I don't flaunt my wealth, because it means nothing. My "office"? Just a set a few friends and myself worked up in a downtown Seattle studio--something we designed more to make a point against Evol's choice of scenery. My real office is at home--and it's much more comfortable than what you saw, I assure you. I'm surprised that you seriously THOUGHT that was my workspace...
Well... I suppose it doesn't matter what you think of my monetary status in this world. I could be a prince or pauper, but the bottom line is, I'm light years ahead of you in talent, experience, and determination, and I won't allow you to stand in my way.
Sorry, kid... maybe after my time is done and I've hung up the boots for once and for all, you can find the opportunity to make a name for yourself. But not on my watch.
(Almost as though he has reminded himself with these words, Daymon checks his wristwatch.)
Rocko Daymon
Well, I've got other matters to attend to... but perhaps I can squeeze in a few comments on Tyrone Walker before I head out of here.
Let's see... how can I speak your language?
Uh... home-boy? I think you need to slow down...
"Aiight?"
(Daymon smirks.)
Rocko Daymon
With the help of Stephen Greer, Team Danger successfully took the Tag Team Titles. Congratulations on that feat, though if those conquered were as pitiful in talent as you make them out to be, then I can't help but wonder why you constantly brag about it.
Let me guess... years of being a practical nobody through professional wrestling leagues have suddenly ended with your one GREAT accomplishment in ANY federation. So suddenly, you think you're hot ****, and that International Title is as good as yours, right?
Heh... I've seen great egos in all my years, but you take the cake, Ty. It's good to see you focused on the true goal at hand--the International title--but don't forget that someone else in this sixteen man shindig is also looking ahead of this meaningless battle royale at Main Frame. The problem is, you're looking at yourself with the belt around your waiste...
I'm looking at the men I'm going to defeat, one by one, to obtain that belt. I focus on the process before the results, because, unlike you, I'm not a fool. I am a champion.
You speak as though you've already one the title, and perhaps you should. You should bask in the light of that fantasy as long as you can, because it will never become a reality. Not without having Stephen Greer to watch your back. Not while I stand in your way.
Not the egotistical Tyrone Walker... not the over-zealous "Commander" T. Waring... and certainly not the thick-headed self-proclaimed philosopher, Evol. The only man worthy of taking that belt is the one who goes into that ring, bull**** aside, does what he has to do, and leaves satisfied.
That man is me.
(Daymon comes out of his seat and onto his feet, dusting a few trails of dust that have formed on his jacket. He looks directly into the camera.)
Rocko Daymon
Talk all you will about EUWC trying to hold you back, Ty... but the only person who will truly prevent you from being where you are--rather, where you think you already are--is the man you see standing here. Sorry to say, you're not as hated as you think. To me, you're nothing more than an ass blowing hot air out of its hole. Laughable, maybe, but far from hated. Does that disappoint you?
If anything, I hope to teach you a lesson in humility at Superiority II, if not at Main Frame. The same goes for Waring and Evol, and the others involved in this battle royale who have thus far refused to speak. You will all learn what it's like to be a true champion, when you see me holding that title over my head in the near future.
(Going silent, he turns away and walks past the counter, out of frame. From there, we fade to black.)
SCENE ENDS
