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AGGRESSION 71: KOTC Round 3: Anarky (c) & Rezin v. Impulse & Sean Stevens

JLevinson

Diva Tree
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
707
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Age
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(FADEIN to a half-dark locker room. Slumped over is Anarky. Small pieces of wood from a shattered table are still stuck in his hair. Dried blood covers his face. He seems exhausted. Everybody else seems to have gone home, as the locker room is quiet.

A half-empty bottle of Hooker Nor’easter ale sits next to him. Several empty ones, half of them tipped over, lie next to it.
)

ANARKY: “I’ve become broken again.

“How many times... can a man fall down and get back up? And what is the measure of a man? His greatness?

“How many times he can be thrown from a cage and drag his half-dead carcass back into the cold steel? To punish himself... to bleed out...

“Is this all there is?”

(He contemplates his and takes another sip of beer.)

ANARKY: “If not for the glory of self... for the glory of titles and fame and fortune... if not for his pride and his honor... if not for the fans and the adoration of the masses... if not for the TV contracts and the gold-digging prostitutes... if not to hear your name chanted... if not to excel in the face of adversity...

“... what, then, is left... but a mindless automaton. A machine built for nothing but to tear through the wreckage... to rise up and destroy all that is worthy and beautiful.

“This is the monstrosity they see before them. Because it plays not the role they expect it to.

“Dance, monkey, dance.”

(Pause.)

ANARKY: “But I have grown weary of dancing for the camera or for myself or for untold fortunes and glories. I care not for these things.

“They have grown hollow and empty and meaningless.

“I have carved my own truth. And it is bitter and cold. But real.

“I am not what you want me to be, Sean and Impulse. I was not the Champion you Dreamed. The glories you felt I should seek. The pride I should beam with.

“I am not your creation. I am the ugliness I chose.

“And it disgusts you. Because I don’t live up to your expectations. The pretty universe you’ve created for yourself. The untold legend... the Story of You... the Unaffable Hero... you’ve got it all figured it out. All the bit players. All the obstacles for you to overcome. The lessons to learn about yourself.

“Except for me. Because I am ugly and I am truth and I won’t just go away quietly into the night because it doesn’t fit into your little narrative... the false castles you’ve built for yourselves...

“You... the Royalty of the Empire... the One Percent... the Self-Anointed Aristocracy...

“We are the unwashed masses... the bastard children of the Empire...

“And you will no longer keep us under your heel.

“No.

“Your histories will not protect you. Your titles will not protect you. Your legacies, your egos, your frail need for validation... will offer no quarter from us.

“We... we seem so beneath you. So unworthy.

“The King and the Marathon Man... even your names bleed your pride out...

“No man is worthy... we are all merely pretenders... the 99%... nothing but stepping stones... chapters in your autobiography.

“We will never be good enough for you. Because ultimately... only one thing matters...

“The glory of You. Your Destiny. Your One Shining Moment.”

(He stops at this, his face tightening into anger. His eyes look up into the camera, seething with hatred.)

ANARKY: “No.

“I will not sit idly by and watch you create this fantasy for yourself. I will not be another chapter in you deluded book.

“Rezin and I... we aren’t just the harbingers of truth and annihilation, no...

“We are the ones who bleed... the ones who sacrificed everything... for that one great moment... the thing men will speak of for ages...

“We are the ones who live and die by the sword... the Usurpers to the Throne... and we have come for blood.

“Did you think you would be able to hide behind your grand design forever? That I could be denied? That we would wallow forever?

“No man or woman is safe from us, because we are the bitter, ugly truth. We are the monster you see in the mirror at night. Or would, if your delusion was not so complete and total.

“And you know what?

“You deserve this. Every aching moment of it. The screams, the cries, the pathetic rationalizing about your sainthood... this is all... for you...

“I want to watch the Marathon Man collapse in exhaustion.. uncertain if he can go on... I want to see the doubt in his tired eyes... staring up at me.. wondering... how long I can go on... why his reputation has not protected him from me... from my truth...

“I want to watch the King grovel, to beg, I want to see him f*cking crawl on his hands and knees before me... to know that I will never go away... I will never bow so-called greatness... I will never accept anything below him...

“The future will be written with dirt-covered fingernails... men who bleed and lust and scratch and claw for everything...

“And men who will not need to defend themselves... their lives... their ceaseless, unending struggles...

“Men like Rezin, so beneath you, so much missed potential, because you cannot see his greatness with your blind eyes...

“They won’t have to answer to you. Your standards and expectations.

“Because they are their own men. Their own ugly truths.

“We are going to paint the canvas red in truth, my friends. We will find something beautiful and dangerous and elegant and lovely and black and blue...

“This moment was inevitable. We are the byproduct of evolution... the next stage.

“And you... you... ?”

(His lips curl up into a thin, wild, exhausted smile.)

ANARKY: “You deserve this.”

(FADEOUT.)
 

User Poets

The Shadow Pope
Joined
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Top of the Pile
Website
www.valeriansgarden.com
"Nark..."

"You're sitting in the corner, complaining - again - about how the world treats you, and you're playing second fiddle to someone else at their whim."

"I'd say you're playing the role we all expected you to play."

(FADEIN... on the Brackets for the King of the Cage, focused on the finals of what everyone referred to as the Bracket of Death.

Two down, one to go.

And...)

"I'm flattered, though, Nark, that you'd refer to me as Royalty of the Empire. After all, you were World Champion when I stepped through the doors; you'd think there would've been some buildup required. Win some matches, make some noise."

"You're calling me Royalty. DisFirst told me I should've debuted by slapping you in the face with my junk and taking your title belt. Apparently I'm the only one who believes in earning anything."

"But it's been almost a year since the First beat you, Nark. It's been well over a year since I made an offhanded remark about your World Title reign, and you're still going on and on about how you weren't Champion for me."

Looks to me like you weren't Champion for anybody.

"Your current pose, the sad, angry, hostile man who wants to punish the Empire for everything that it did to wrong you, it's totally turned you into a unique snowflake, not entirely derivative of an entire era of professional wrestling where the entire industry did its best to be darker, angrier, and more violent than the rest of the boys."

"But you're still a puppet."

"Do you remember how this started, Nark?"

I didn't ask for this.

"Being the World Champion, to me, would entail a sense of responsibility to represent and defend the Empire to the best of my ability and to understand that having a spotlight that bright means everything you say and do is subject to the most intense scrutiny."

"I grew up idolizing the Champions who understood that and accepted the role, and you came of age in this business right alongside most of 'em. I thought that's something you knew, and I thought that was something every Champion either knew going into things, or realized and accepted midway through."

"And since I'm a loudmouth New Yorker who has a lot of opinions that I want everyone to hear all of before they can talk again, I expressed my opinion."

Probably a mistake. I'm sure I indirectly paid for your shrink's last three new cars.

"I, also, didn't ask for something, Nark. I didn't ask for the responsibility of being the man that single-handedly drove you off the deep end. But there you are, World Champion, treating everything that I, a newcomer to your Empire, said as Gospel truth. One critical comment about your title reign, and there you are, loudly lamenting to everyone you can find about how I can't possibly be one of the 'good guys', and how I can't possibly have anyone actually 'cheering for me' after I dared... DARED to say something less than complimentary about the Great and Powerful Anarky."

How's this for a statement of fact? You were World Champion, and you were acting like a battered, codependent chambermaid. Two black eyes means he loves you, right?

"I don't know why my approval meant so much to you that you'd cover your tracks by being overly critical of every move I've made since."

Overly critical, in this case, refers to using sixty to seventy words when three will do. Less is more, Nark. Less is more.

"Or was I just the symptom of the larger problem, the overwhelming insecurity that fed your entire title reign? Were you so convinced that you weren't worthy of the Championship, so convinced that it was all just a dream and that one day the people would wake up and say 'Hey... he's not a Champ... he's... a fraud...' that all it took for the entire house of cards to come tumbling down was for one man--"

One man not wearing a mask, that is. It was easy to talk down to Dis when he was faceless, I admit it.

"--to point out that the Emperor wore no clothes?"

Which brings us to now.

"So you turned around and became TV Champion."

Or Anti-TV Champion. Because you're a rebel.

"Good for you. And you're teamed up with Rezin. You're making a name for yourself, Nark."

What does it say about you that you were World Champion for an entire year and it took losing the belt to differentiate you from the wallpaper?

"Good for you."

"Except you're not the rebel you're declaring yourself to be."

"Rezin? I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. He's gone through it, as they say, and he's been two steps away from completely snapping since the first time I saw him."

"You, on the other hand, Nark... went from reluctant World Champion to motivated Anti Champion about three seconds after he showed you how he does it."

"I'd say he's a good leader, but that's debatable. The truth of the matter, Nark, is that you're simply a good follower."

Because you're still a puppet.

"You tap - danced for the approval of Triple X as the only Legend in the Empire, you tap - danced for my approval even though I was the one walking into your backyard... you even got up and performed for Dis, doing your best to justify yourself to a man - slash - woman that may or may not have been anyone of note until the mask came off."

Schrödinger's Dis. Except in this case, Anarky was both dead and dead at the same time.

"After Dis?"

"Your partnership with Rezin is the fastest Single-White-Femaling I've ever seen in my entire wrestling career."

Smirk.

"What does any of this have to do with our match, Nark?"

"Nothing."

"Triple X is still the greatest wrestler to have ever stepped into this company, and I have yet to lose a match without interference. You're a former World Champion and Rezin Dopesmoker Black is the Escape Artist."

"Whether it was the four of us or First and Cruise in our spot, this match was always going to represent four of the top six wrestlers in the Empire."

"The difference is that only one member on your team knows how to lead, Nark."

Here's a hint: It's not you.

"We take Rezin, we take the match."

"I know this, because I know Rezin. After all, I made my debut in this company at the last King of the Cage, as his tag team partner."

You see, Nark? Even when it's unintentional, you can't help but follow someone else's path.

FADE
 

RStrawsma

Strawbot
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
1,512
Points
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Age
40
Location
Indiana
(CUE UP: “The Mountain” by Jucifer.)


(Our shot opens up outside of a decrepit single story household in what we could assume to be somewhere in the American Midwest. The camera makes a long tracking shot of the scene, taking in every detail: faded paint job, dead lawn, hanging gutter, and other signs of disrepair and decay. The shot comes to a stop on the mailbox posted at the end of the cracked cement walkway leading up to the front door. On the side, the name “BLACK” is clearly legible.)

(KENNY LOMBARDO, our man on the scene, steps into the frame at this point. There’s a look of apprehension on the reporter’s face as he takes in the drab scenery, perhaps second guessing himself on coming all the way out here. And yet, he presses on... creeping up the walkway and arriving at the front porch, where he finds the front door hanging wide open in front of him. Unusual, considering the low December temperature. Unsure of what to do next, Kenny calls into the darkness of the house.)

Kenny Lombardo
Uh... hello? Anybody home?

(No answer. Lombardo glances nervously over his shoulders, then finally gathers up the nerve to just walk right in. The inside looks almost as bad as the outside, with crumpled newspapers and random bits of garbage strewn across the floor. Kenny squints into the dark, looking for signs of life.)

Kenny Lombardo
Hello? Rezin... are you here??

(Again, there’s no answer. Kenny moves further into the house, making passive glances over the nearby living room covered in dust and a hoarder’s stash of soiled clothing, and a kitchen serving as a take-out bag graveyard for every fast food chain known to man. Something catches the reporter’s eye as he walks by a dining room table buried in a mess of papers. The camera drops to his point of focus to find a pile of opened envelopes... some bearing the bright orange markings that can only mean overdue bill notices. Kenny’s hand plucks one of the invoices off the table... as he raises it up to read, the camera catches view of the ghastly silhouette standing over the reporter’s shoulder in a place where it wasn’t a moment ago.)

Rezin
CLOSE the DOOR, DAMNIT!!

(Lombardo nearly pops a foot into the air as the all-too familiar raspy voices cuts right into his ear. He twirls around to find the scowl of REZIN looking him right in the face.)

Kenny Lombardo
OH JEEZ!! REZIN!! You scared the HELL out of me!

(The goat bastard scoffs as he walks by the reporter and to slam the front door closed.)

Rezin
PFFT!! As if there was any hell in you to begin with...

(Lombardo seems morose as he finds himself stuck in yet another interview with the sludge-soaked skywalker. Rezin motions with his head for the reporter to follow, and leads the way through a door leading to a set of stairs going down into the basement. With the electricity apparently out, he illuminates the way with a Bic lighter held out in front him. At his heels, Kenny follows, ever mindful of his footing as he descends one step at a time.)

Rezin
So what brings you to the Hoosier Hempland, Kenny?

Kenny Lombardo
I, uh... was actually meaning to ask you the same thing. With Aggression 70 in the books, all eyes are looking onward to Atlanta, Georgia... but you’ve made this apparent detour back to your hometown here in Lebanon, Indiana. Let me tell you, by the way... I had a heck of a time tracking you down.

Rezin
Well... your dedication is admirable. It’s just too bad that I’M the only one that recognizes it.

Kenny Lombardo
Right, whatever... so why are we here?

Rezin
Hmm, well... before we figure out why we’re here, shouldn’t we figure out where we are first?

(The flame drops slightly as Rezin lights a candle, revealing a bit more of the room. We can now see the Escape Artist seated on a sofa. Kenny takes a seat on the other end.)

Kenny Lombardo
Wow...I still vaguely remember this basement from the countless Chronic Collizion promos you and former partner Ivan Dalkichev used to cut. Looks like... a lot has changed, over the years.

Rezin
Everything changes, Kenny. Greatness in all forms eventually wane and disintegrate. Legends that refuse to die are instead forgotten. Nothing ever escapes the cold grip of doom. Even good ol’ “Casa dela Negra”.

But here I am anyway... home for the holidays, because there’s no better place to find a little bit of rest and relaxation before moving on to the next match.

Kenny Lombardo
Yes... I’m sure you could use plenty of both, especially in the wake of your harrowing battle against the wild card team Malcolm Joseph-Jones and Aaron Jones. You certainly took a good deal of punishment in the cage that night... and yet, in spite of everything said against you and your partner, Anarky, the two of you survived the second round to move into the semi-finals of the King of the Cage tournament.

Rezin
Survived is right. Even though it’s not exactly hip in the wrestling world these days, I’ll give credit where it’s due: MJ2 is a juggernaut, and he brought the hammer down... and the Jones kids exceeded his expectations. Did they beat the shit out of us? Of course they did...

But in the end, it didn’t matter how much punishment we took... because it was nothing compared to the long and embattled careers ‘Nark and I have followed on our respective paths. In the end, it didn’t come down to “greatness”... but rather, the undying perseverance and inhuman durability of Empire Pro’s Anti-Champion. They failed to anticipate the unseen... they refused to buy the CHAOS as a legitimate threat... and for those mistakes, Anarky made them pay for it.

Kenny Lombardo
The TV “Anti” Champion, Anarky, certainly surprised many as he returned from the back after a sickening fall from the top of the cage through the commentary table. The least of all, few would expect him to return to action and deliver the fatal strike to seal the victory. But let’s not forget, you had an important role in all that.

(Rezin arches an eyebrow.)

Rezin
You think so? I’d probably have to disagree with you there...

Kenny Lombardo
Don’t sell yourself short now, Rezin. Outnumbered, you stood your ground in that cage and refused to go down for the three count, no matter what your opponents did to break you down. You should be proud of that moment of resiliency.

(Rezin shrugs, clearly indifferent.)

Rezin
And the Cameron Cruises of the world will just turn it all around and say it was just my idiot luck at work... nothing more than a fluke.

I mean, I’d love to sit here and say that what you saw me put on in that ring was all me. Like... a rare, momentary glimpse at the professional wrestling prodigy obscured beneath all the smoke and the sludge. Nothing would please me more than to sit here with my chin up high and say that it was absolute and indisputable proof that there’s more to me than meets the eye... that it was a taste of things to come.

But do you really think anybody in this company would give this miserable ol’ GOAT BASTARD so much as a single ounce of credit? Not on your miserable, insignificant life, my friend...

Kenny Lombardo
I dunno... I think there are more out there willing to give you credit than you believe there to be, Rezin.

Rezin
Maybe... but outside of every cookie cutter jock asshole with an attitude and an opinion giving me the same “waste of potential” horseshit, I haven’t heard anything otherwise. That’s the great industry of double standards we live in today. Only in Empire Pro could a guy like me beat a guy like Cameron Cruise and watch him move on to two EXTREMELY undeserved title shots.

Nobody gives a shit when I step up and show them something in between those ropes that they should be taking into consideration. Instead, they just get caught up on all those meaningless little moments and choices that didn’t matter a whole lot to me at the time, but apparently mean all the world to my critics out there.

Kenny Lombardo
But despite what any of them may say, look at yourself now... two matches down and one to go to earn your way into the six-man final bout to determine the EPW Tag Team Titles, and this year’s joint Kings of the Cage. Certainly, having the former World Heavyweight Champion Anarky in your corner has been a boon to your success, and I guess you can make the claim that luck has also helped your cause by the way the lethal lottery drawings came to be... but it’s not like in past situations, where you’ve simply failed upwards and pinned your success solely on your ability to escape the cage.

Don’t you think your efforts had something to do with all of this, even just a little bit?

(Rezin’s gaze turns from its fixation on the lone candle in the room to the reporter sitting at the end of the sofa.)

Rezin
Do you believe in fate, Kenny?

Kenny Lombardo
...is that an answer to my question?

Rezin
No, it’s a way of switching topics. But I’ll give you your answer, when you get around to answering mine.

Now... do you believe in fate?

(Lombardo sighs and mull over the question with some serious thought.)

Kenny Lombardo
Well... I’d say yes... and no.

I mean, I don’t believe our destinies are set in stone from cradle to grave, per se. We make our own fate based on the actions we make. On the other hand, though, there will always be things outside of our control.

(Rezin nods.)

Rezin
Outside of our control... kinda like where we’re born. I’m sure if I had a choice, I would have popped out of my mother and started my life in a great, happening city like New York City... a place with the world at my fingertips, and opportunities around every corner.

But obviously, none of us have that choice... and yes, as you suggest, there are many instances in our lives where the choices aren’t explicitly given to us. But you work with what you get... and make opportunities when opportunities are to be made. I didn’t choose to be born to a poor single parent in this quagmire called Lebanon in the middle of Indiana... but I somehow found a way to ESCAPE this place... to find my own path.

And considering where that path has led me... to this upcoming match down in Atlanta... I have no reason to believe that this isn’t the uncontrolled arm of fate at work here.

Kenny Lombardo
How do you mean?

Rezin
Well... let’s just consider the people in this match...

There’s my pal Anarky... the man who claimed the crown in the King of the Cage tournament following that, and would go on to trade that crown for a title. He should have fought ME in that final match... but the unbridled forces of the cosmos were working against me.

Kenny Lombardo
If I recall, Stalker ratted you out to the police when you decided to work against him...

Rezin
Then you got the first of our two opponents, “Triple X” Sean Stevens... the O-G King of the Cage... the guy with the DVD... not to mention, the asshole that took my hair back at Black Dawn!

Kenny Lombardo
You can be bitter, but even you have to admit, you had that coming...

Rezin
And then of course his partner, Impulse... the man who was my lethal lottery partner in last year’s King of the Cage tournament... he who abandoned me, and cost me the match.

Kenny Lombardo
I think you cost yourself that match when YOU abandoned HIM in the cage...

(Rezin casts the reporter a threatening glance to in response to his timely interruptions, but doesn’t act on it, trying to stick to his point.)

Rezin
Regardless of how you choose to look at it, just consider the obvious here. All three of these men have had pivotal roles in the history of the King of the Cage tournament.

Kenny Lombardo
Won’t argue with you on that.

Rezin
And in Atlanta, we’ll all be together in that cage. Two kings, one prince, and a court jester. A certified recipe for absolute CHAOS.

Kenny Lombardo
Sure... but how does this tie back to what you were saying about fate... or is there some sort of Tarot deck involved here?

Rezin
Do we make our own fate, Kenny?

Think back to a couple years ago... what if I had beaten the First in his first defense of the World Heavyweight Title, when we met in that semi-final round? What if I had put forward all the effort and motivation I kept holding back because I didn’t think it mattered? What if I hadn’t crossed Stalker? What if the feds hadn’t dragged me out of that cage, and subsequently out of the tournament? What if I had gone on and fought Anarky in that final round myself?

Flash forward a year later... what if I hadn’t left that cage? What if I had stuck with Impulse? What if we had won the tournament, and we became Tag Team Champions of Empire Pro? What if I had ducked in that one pivotal moment his heel was coming at my temple? What if I was the one to move on and compete for the Intercontinental Title?

Now think to Black Dawn... what if I had taken Sean Stevens to his limit? I mean, his ACTUAL limit? What if I had beaten the Blue-Eyed Badass in his own caged courtroom? What if I had shaved those pretty golden locks off his head? What if I had proven to all those marks and fanboys that their great and untouchable KING had lost a step? What would Sean Stevens do, if I had brought this reality right there in front of him? What would all the other washed-up “legends” say about him then on the commercials shilling his DVD collection?

Where would we be? What kind of Empire Pro would we be living in?

Kenny Lombardo
A decidedly different one, I imagine...

Rezin
And yet, if anything had gone otherwise... we wouldn’t be where we are now.

Kenny Lombardo
...in this cold, dark basement in the middle of Indiana?

Rezin
No, you goofball... THIS MATCH!

I bring up all of these “what if” questions because over these past couple years, everybody and their aunt has been trying to make the case as to how much of a waste of potential I am... because I didn’t do enough then, or I’m not doing enough now, or whatever. But don’t you see, Kenny? Every moment of failure... every low point of my life... every missed opportunity... all of it paved the way to this time, this place... this moment.

Kenny Lombardo
If you say so... but if you don’t mind me asking, Rezin, what is so important about THIS particular moment compared to any time in the past? So important, that you even feel it justifies a long and winless drought in your professional career?

(He doesn’t quite answer right away, but instead shakes his head at the reporter while he lets out a dry chuckle.)

Rezin
A little bit of everything? Nothing at all? Maybe both, maybe neither...

Sure, there’s the EPW Tag Team Titles... testaments to a dying tag division, that I know the two of us can revitalize into an era of chaos. Then there’s the matter of taking the crown back for the TRUE King of the Cage... Anarky... reminding every one of those forgetful bastards out there that just because he doesn’t have the World Title anymore, he isn’t any one bit less the toughest and evilest son of a bitch to ever walk through Empire Pro. Those things are great... but all the same, superficial.

But I guess what the two of us really want out of this... is to DENY punks like Stevens and Impulse of those glories. We want to ruin their path of conquest... to prove to the masses that even the so-called dream team of the two finest talents on Empire Pro’s roster can be just as vulnerable and weak as any other mediocre wrestling talent... once they get into the confines of that cage...

Once they submerge into the ocean of CHAOS...

(A shark-like grin appears in Rezin’s hobo beard.)

Kenny Lombardo
The cage is certainly the environment of chaos... but will that be enough to overcome the pair of Stevens and Impulse?

Rezin
Maybe...

It’s never guaranteed that things will fall in your favor when you leave your fate to the whims of CHAOS. We might survive in that case... but to overcome Sean Stevens and Impulse? Chaos can’t help us; we’ll have to do that on our own...

But I’m ready to make it happen... and if I know ‘Nark as well as I know him, then I know he’s ready as well. After all... this is the fate we’ve made together, completely independent of each other. We’ve waited a long time and put up with a lot of shit for this one chance...

...this chance to bring to the two most judgmental, cock-stroking-est, dogma-spouting, DVD-shilling, self-important SCAT MUNCHERS to a much needed moment of SILENCE and SELF-REFLECTION.

There’s no backing down from this moment... nowhere to escape to... and for once, no NEED to escape. Anarky has taught me what it means to be a REAL artist... one that works through pallette of pain, brutality, and sheer ferocity. Everybody who ever thought I was simply wasting my potential over these past few years is about to see that nothing has been wasted after all... but all was needed was time and patience, maturing from a crimson worm of despair into a black moth of DOOM!!

(A moment of silence follows... and it’s Kenny who breaks it.)

Kenny Lombardo
...let’s say you manage to succeed in all this. Who’s to say the Cameron Cruises of the world don’t just turn this around on you once again, and call the whole thing another fluke?

Rezin
Hmm, well... did I ever tell you that Cameron Cruise is a fucking idiot?

(Kenny doesn’t look like he knows how to respond to that. Rezin takes it as a cue that the interview is over, and picks the candle up off of the table, handing it over to the hand of the reporter.)

Rezin
We’re done for today, Kenny... hopefully, you can dig your way out of here.

Kenny Lombardo
Uhh... you going to be okay down here? By yourself?

(Rezin nestles up on the sofa in his overcoat and grumbles to himself, mind going somewhere into the ether. Lombardo turns and finds the stairs leading up, using the candlelight to find his way. The light fades as Lombardo ascends the steps and shuts the door behind him, leaving us in the dark... and the sound of someone clearing his throat.)
 

JLevinson

Diva Tree
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
707
Points
0
Age
43
(FADEIN to a dark room with a simple gray curtain. In front of it is the King of the Cage 2012 logo. Lounging in an enormous black, charred throne sits Anarky, one leg draped over the side, a beer in one hand, and a cigarette held lazily in the other. He takes a long, deliberate drag and exhales upwards, watching the smoke drift upwards.)

ANARKY: “The Truth has no owners.

“Do you know what that means, Impulse, or are you too simple? Too busy sh*tting over everybody else’s accomplishments while patting yourself on the back to bother?

“It means that the Truth is the Truth, whether you deny it or not. Whether you champion it or sell it on the street corner like a two-dollar prostitute.

“And I have the Truth on my side. As always.

“I am nothing, if not honest, my friend. Are we friends yet? You speak so intimately of me… you seem to know me oh so well for someone who has never stood in the ring with me. Certainly for someone who has never pushed these shoulders to that mat for three brief seconds. Though you talk a pretty good game, don’t you?

“Yet here you are, all false bravado. Is there nothing you’re too shameless to take credit for, Marathon Man? My madness is yours now? My therapy bills, or as I like to call them, bar tabs? What else? Do you cause the sun to rise and the moon to shine brightly in the night sky?

“If you want to start taking credit for my hangovers, I won’t stop you. I wouldn’t want to deny you something you’d… earned.

“See, Impulse. You might not have noticed due to your slowness, but, I do not, in fact, like you.

“One such as yourself would jump to the obvious conclusion that I am extremely sensitive, having never gotten into an argument before. Certainly not with someone with such rapier-sharp wit as yourself.

“There could, of course, be another reason.

“See, Impulse… to me… there is nothing so disgusting or worthy of my hate as someone who cannot be what he is. Which is why, while I find your partner rather distasteful, I cannot muster hatred for him.

“His egomania is so pure and so true… how can you not admire his incredible devotion to self-worship? Perhaps his greatness is not what he says, but his ability to constantly trumpet is impressive, if nothing else. And it cannot be easy to constantly fellate one’s self when one’s own tag partner is constantly getting in the way with his own form of… worship.

“No, Impulse. I do not hate you because you dared criticize me.

“I hate you because you’re a f*cking pr*ck and you pretend to be this nice fella who believes in truth, justice, and all that other happy horsesh*t.

“F*ck off, you hypocritical f*ck.

“You have the audacity to brag to me about what a great and splendid record you have? Tell me, Impulse, have you ever pulled your head out of your own ass long enough to notice what I’ve done over the last two years?

“Are you the King of the Cage, Impulse? Is your partner?

“No. You. F*cking. Aren’t.

“You aren’t the man who tore through the Empire, laying waste to any who stood before him. You weren’t the one who emerged from the cage victorious. You were not the one who shamed First into leaving this company in disgrace.

“And you didn’t shed any tears when he came crawling back and… earned his title… by beating me with the help of his wife. No.

“Because Mr. Good Boy could take all I’ve done and accomplished… everything I’ve bled for… and everything I’ve dragged this useless carcass through another broken table for…

“… and he’d wipe his own f*cking ass with it because f*ck you, that’s why. Oh yes, you’re a true Champion, Impulse. Regale us with the tales of what a nice guy you are as you basically dismiss everything I’ve done as worthless.

“Because I’m not like the heroes in the picture book? Is that it?

“Like who?

“Those Champions you worshipped so much as a child?

“Well congratulations, Impulse, you grew up to be just like them, because they were a bunch of egotistical f*ckwads, too.

“GUNS? Oh, he was a real pr*ck. Mark Windham? F*ck that guy. Doc Silver? Mike Randalls?

“F*ck man, the so-called legends were a bunch of assholes. Every one of them would sell out their own mothers for a title shot. And you swallow their lies like a good little whore, don’t you, Impulse. My f*cking god, do you even believe the sh*t that comes out of your mouth? Responsibility to represent the company? What, like you? The guy who waltzes in and sh*ts on everybody’s career? Nicely done, champ. When your buddies get married, do you point out how their wife looks fat in the wedding dress? For f*ck's sake, man, you must be fun at parties.

“You don’t have principles, Impulse. You don’t have TRUTH.

“I do.

“You have your bullsh*t story about how Champions are SUPPOSED to be… how Impulse thinks Anarky should act. Oh, was I not proud enough, friend? Did I not weep hard enough? Did I not WANT IT BADLY ENOUGH FOR YOU, Impulse?

“Well f*ck you, Mom, you’re not the boss of me.

“The f*ck does your validation mean to me? Or Stevens? You’re both a bunch of deluded fools who have never beaten me. You’ve never shown yourself to be my superior.

“Truth.

“What should I care for your titles and accomplishments, Impulse? Why should I need such things, when I have Truth? I had them and they meant nothing to you. Now I’m the Anti-Champion in every sense -- everything you don’t understand -- and you basically are the same ol’ Impulse, tellin’ everybody else how they’re sad little frauds and whiners.

“You’re a real role model, Impulse. When you pull the string on the back of your action figure, does it say ‘You’re not a real leader.’ They must be flyin’ off the shelves.

“The truth, Impulse, is that this is MY empire. And it has been for a long time. The First didn’t change that – he just showed the whole world that not only is he not capable of being my superior, but he’s afraid to even try.

“Sean? I welcome the challenge. And I know, in time, Sean and I will dance, and he, too, will come to know me. And my Truth.

“Just as you will, Impulse. Because your little act doesn’t impress me.

“You are the worst kind of person. You’re not someone who has an opinion. You’re a holier-than-thou pr*ck who thinks the world should be however the f*ck he thinks it should be.

“Not every Champion has to pretend to be something he isn’t. You think the world is only built by one kind of man? Ambitious go-getters like you?

“F*ck that sh*t.

“The world is built by men like me. Men who seek no glory or fame. Men who don’t need the validation of glitter or gold.

“We carve this world in our shape. And our reward is the Empire… which is what we make of it. We reap what we sow, and we need not to trumpet it loudly for the world to hear.

“I am not the ruler of the Empire because I asked for it. Or because I wanted it really really really badly, I swear.

“No. I merely took it. Because I am the Truth. And you are another bullsh*t huckster selling lies to little children to sell t-shirts. You are no Champion. You are nothing to admire.

“The moment you start respecting me is the moment I’ve done something wrong. Men like you come and go, friend.

“Men like me and Rezin… our legacies are written in that cage. With the blood of frauds like you.

“History will know what we’ve done. What we’ve accomplished. The Empire we created.

“And you?

“You’ll be just another asshole who thought his sh*t didn’t stink.

“Well congratu-f*cking-lations on that.

“Oh and hey, man, I’m sorry. I would tell you that I tried to be the Champion you deserved.. the Champion you looked up to all those years. But I don’t wanna lie.

“I leave that to you.”

(FADEOUT.)
 
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jayshort

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STATE OF THE UNION: SUPERMAN RETURNS

FADEIN:
…on a crushed pair of eye glasses,positioned beneath a size eleven and a half boot. The camera panned to the left… on the ground, a couple of feet away from the glasses was a collared shirt, a few more feet to the right, was a matching necktie.
<o:p
</o
The scene opened up inside of the dressing room of EPW superstar(s), SEAN “TRIPLE X” STEVENS, and “IMPULSE” RANDALL KNOX, and although Randall was nowhere to be found, the other name on the nameplate certainly was. Triple X stood still, barely blinking, his silence spoke volumes. His hair was a still a mess, he had sweat dripping down his forehead, and the dressing room reeked of intense body odor. The Hall of Famer was still dressed in his wrestling tights from about forty-five minutes or so earlier, where he and Impulse took on, and were victorious against a couple of local wrestlers, in the night’s main event. And, as all of the staff in the arena cleared out, in route to their hotel bedrooms, one person remained.

TRIPLE X: Here lies the grave of Clark Kent, mildmannered, purveyor of truth, justice, and the American way.”


Stevens wiggled his foot, crushing the glasses even more.

TRIPLE X: Which means, the era of The First … is over. Which means, the days of mediocre main events, manipulative, politicking paper champions, and number one contenders who couldn’t lace mine or Randall’s boots, are done. Drastic measures are being met, drastic statements have been made, and as much as I’d like to overthrow this regime this very second, I have to be realistic and truthful with my fans in letting you all know that Rome wasn’t built in a day; it wasn’t destroyed in a week, and well … Dan Ryan doesn’t put out shows often enough for the overthrow to be immediate. So, for the moment, The First still gets to walk around withthat disgrace of a replica he calls the EPW World Heavyweight Championship …Cameron – who, while still nothing special, has drastically improved, I’ll admit … But, as good as he’s gotten, and as much pride and pleasure as he’ll get from telling us again and again about being the first ever grand slam(mer), ignoring the fact that his accomplishment is as much a sham as The First’s third EPW Title reign … he still isn’t me.

“… And, yes … we all have to pretend to listen.

“For now.”

Triple X lowered his head, pondering his next statement.

TRIPLE X:
So what does this entire ‘statement’ that I’ve made even mean? ‘Clark Kent’s dead … Superman’s back?’ ‘Get off the throne you clone’? It means that those two clowns have been put on notice. Their time is coming … But, as of right now, there’s nothing more important to me than continuing to gel with Randall, building team chemistry, and winning the rest of the tournament that made me who I am...


“…so with that being said…”

Stevens smirked.

TRIPLE X: What’s up, champ? Any new stories to tell? Lies to spread? Care to, oh, I don’t know … pretend like you’re “predicting” what we think, or what we’re going to say, in an effort to guide us in the direction of what you need us to say, in order for your whole shtick to be make sense? I have a question, ‘Nark … Do you even listen to yourself anymore? Do you think before you speak? Does it sound the same, when you play it back, or is it just me?

“I had great expectations for you, for this, this match, the little rivalry I’ve developed with Rezin, and our blatant dislike for one another. I thought it could lead to an epic encounter in that cage, that would leave our fans salivating for more, but the more that I hear you speak, and make silly accusations, and use child psychology, makes me unsure. You see, by accusing of us being something that we’re not, you’ve effectively managed to become that thing that you always hated, that thing that you thrived off of, that thing that always managed to give you the legs that you stand on, when you should be permanently seated in a wheelchair … You’ve become just like everyone else ‘Nark.

“You’re the Yankees, the Patriots, and the 90’s Chicago Bulls.

“You want to keep your edge so; of course, your diatribe sounds the same. But, in the end, it’s all just words … meaningless words. Everything means nothing until we step in that cage and settle our differences the only way we know how. And, just like yours … my track record is pretty decent. In fact, mine is better.

“Ask your partner.”

“You see, you’re a talker … if I were World Champ, and somebody disrespected my reign, my philosophy, and my character, I’d have made an example out of them, like I’ve done. You? You just talk about them. Tell them about themselves, and then pat yourself on the back for being so clever. And, that’s why nobody respects you. You imply that you’re here to fix things, that you have standards, well … there’s no better place to begin cleaning up from then the top, and the reason why you didn’t get anything done when you were in prime position to do so is because you choked. You don’t want to admit it, you like playing with our intelligence with your cookie cutter excuses, but we all saw it. Well, some of us did…

“See, as much as you like to tell me what I wanted out of you as champion, I was interning for a fashion designer in Dubai, sipping on Mai Tai’s, being treated like a King. I didn’t have time to care about anything that you were doing, and by the time I was done being busy, whatever it is you had going on here was finished. I had only heard about you being a bust, so don’t flatter yourself into thinking that anything that you’ve done or haven’t done was compelling enough to make my day, week, month or year.

“When I came back, and exposed you for the goof that you are? It wasn’t because I had any issues with you … it was because I wanted everything out in the open, and as clear as crystal. I wanted the audience to know, and understand that my successor had nothing, and I mean nothing on the original. And, if that makes me arrogant? Then, fuck it, I’ll be the one to disturb the balance, but at the end of the day, I back up every single detail of every single statement that comes out of my mouth, and have made a career out of proving people wrong.”

The blue-eyed badass took a sip, from a bottle of water, sitting on the coffee table nearest him.

TRIPLE X: And, that’s what I’ve been doing the entire time I’ve been back. See, it goes without saying that you two are talented, quite possibly, the most talented team we’ve faced thus far, but there’s no hiding the truth, that you’re both mentally weak. Sure, you’ll tell us that I’m going to bow down to you, and that you’ll outlast the marathon man, but the truth of the matter is … this thing is going to be tough. A war, even. There will be a point in time in this match where we’ll all look up, dizzy, exhausted and completely drained, cramped, sore, with our bodies telling us to quit … and, I won’t listen. Will either of you? I know for a fact, without a shadow of a doubt that while I’m fighting through the pain, the mental and physical fatigue, that Randall will be right there with me, in the trenches, until the end. Can you say the same? I mean, of course you'll say it, but really?

“…because as good as Rezin is, if losing his pride, his dignity, and his hair, in a match that, by his own admission, he really wanted to win couldn’t prevent him from giving in to the temptation of a warm shower, and that entire “live to fight another day” easy way out, then I think I can say with full certainty that I don’t think a plastic crown will. Rezin, you and I both know that you can’t beat me … that you can throw everything that you’ve got at me, and when the dust settles, somehow, some way, I will triumph. My heart supersedes my brain, to my detriment even, I can’t live with the thought of disappointing myself, let alone my fans, and therein lies the difference between us. This is just a job for you. I didn't come back because I needed money, I returned because I needed to compete.

“You’ve become one with your disappointments. Once you began making excuses, and justifying your losses, I knew right then and there, that what you eventually end up accomplishing will never amount to your potential. I’m not here to attempt to talk you onto the right path, I’m not going to tell you that fighting alongside Anarky is a gi-normous waste of time, and that he's full of shit. What I will say is this … there is something that I want, and you’re standing in the way of me getting it. And, once again, I will move you. If I’ve got to bleed, sweat, cry, or die trying, I will move you. And, after Impulse and I win, you two, you can continue to stand on your little soapboxes and make your declarations, and call us names til you’re blue in the face … we’ll just be in the next round, ignoring you."

FTB
 
Last edited:

RStrawsma

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Rezin
You should really leave the comic book parallels to the actual comic book nerds, Son of Jor-El...

(CUE UP: “Superman” by Jucifer. I guess this is gonna be the sponsored band for the week.)


(The shot opens up to reveal the notorious REZIN, seated upon his equivalent of a throne. Naturally, it’s a commode, spattered in... well, given the brevity of what the alternative could be, let’s just call it pipe residue. Under a furrowed brow, the Sultan of Sludge’s sunglasses gaze endlessly back into the camera.)

Rezin
Of course, when you’re desperately trying to keep that hype train a-movin’, it makes sense to liken yourself to a popular American icon of heroism. After all, it worked for Reagan with Star Wars.

But everybody knows Superman can be weakened... even killed.

See, they got this new thing now called “kryptonite”... and no, for once, I’m not talking about the strain of dope. It’s sort of something that makes our beloved Man of Steel not quite as super. You’d KNOW that, if you gave even half a fuck about the source material you just so brazen raped for the sake of slapping a new slogan onto yet another t-shirt for a quick buck...

But then again, I remember that you’re Sean Stevens. You don’t give a fuck about anything but yourself.

And, of course, your wallet... and while you like to say otherwise to maintain that image, we know it’s the bottom line to all of this. Just look at your brand new greatest hits DVD.

(He holds up a blank compact disc with some black marker written across it, reading “XXX (NOT PORN)”.)

Rezin
Got my own copy right here... acquired today via my good Swedish friends at the Pirate Bay.

Rezin’s Review: Nice tribute... but nothing I didn’t already know. Nothing that three hours of guest appearances repeating the same nauseating double-sided praise over and over could give me, anyway.

(He smirks with defiance at this indirect admission to thievery, and throws the CD aside as if it meant nothing. It sure as hell didn’t cost him anything.)

Rezin
But “I didn’t come back for the money,” says the jackass trying to shove this shit down everybody’s throat...

You can make your own justifications... your own excuses... but at the end of the day, it won’t change the fact that you put your family before this federation, and you WALKED AWAY from it all. And you’re trying to sell us on the notion that the real reason you’ve come back is because of your “need” to compete?

Better step back a sec before you get back on that throne, Uncle Trip. If you really wanted to compete, you could have just changed trades and walked into the Octagon, where there are none of the bullshit frill or facades of the squared circle.

You want to talk about “needing” to compete?

(He takes the shades off his face and sits up. There’s a look of infernal determination in Rezin’s bloodshot eyes.)

Rezin
Motherfucker, don't you DARE lecture me on needing to compete. While you had to leave for titty, I STAYED in this federation because of MY need to compete.

You think this is just a JOB to me? You think I put my life and body on the line every goddamb night just so I can earn a quick dollar? Have fame and power really made you THAT fucking stupid, Sean?

Think about it... fuck, think about ANYTHING but yourself, for once in your life! That ring is my LIFESBLOOD!

If this was just a job, then there are easier jobs out there for a guy like me. I could quit right now and pick up some work at the pizza shack down the block as a manager for more money and less pain and stress. It would certainly give my life some much needed stability.

But I’m not going to do that... because that would make me yet another sheep in the flock, conforming to the wills of an order-obsessed society.

I’m not EVER going to quit, until it somehow becomes physically impossible for me to continue. Because unlike YOU, Sean... I DON’T need my “greatness” validated. Unlike you, I have GENUINE passion for this sport. So much, that even after years of little compensation, massive pain, and endless shortcomings... I’m still in this, diligently chipping away one match after the next... putting it all out there while you keep talking about yourself, and while the entire world keeps losing sight of me in all the smoke.

(He sits back and puts the shades back in place.)

Rezin
And because I reject the mentality... because ‘Nark and I choose to walk in the blue light... you tag guys like us as “mentally weak”. As if... we’re just too fucking stupid to brag about ourselves, or some shit.

But seriously... you, and your pal Impulse, seem to have the basic understanding that all of this is a meaningless exchange. Why should mental strength matter at this point? Vikings lacked mental strength, and last I checked, Olvir had your number. What do you have to PROVE by coming out and saying we’re “weak” on a mental level?

You even said it yourself... these words don’t matter, because it all comes down to what we do in that ring. A pretty obvious truth... and one that I took to heart when I tried to come out and just give a simple interview with Kenny to set the mood and keep things neutral. All I wanted to do was give an honest and unbiased perspective...

…and yet, you just couldn’t resist the urge to drag me into this pissing contest by talking down on us like inferior members of the human race. No dignity, no respect... as if the microscopic analyzation our every motivate, trials, and message is all somehow concrete and indisputable evidence that we will inevitably fail.

I just can’t understand why the two of you guys can’t go a single week without playing the “more righteous than thou” game. Does it matter that ‘Nark lost the World Title at Russian Roulette? Does it matter that I got my face superkicked into oblivion back at Black Dawn? Will that make any difference at the sound of the bell and the cold, unforgiving clang of the cage door slamming shut? No, of course it won’t... after, all we were there, we know what happened... so why -- WHY?? -- are you wasting everybody’s time by dragging up these dead topics?

(He shakes his head.)

Rezin
Maybe it’s because YOU are the one who is mentally weak in this. It would make sense, given on how fucking insecure you are with your self-infatuated image of professional wrestling royalty. You are weak, because you believe that strength comes from absolute mental dominance.

You talk shit and cut us down because deep down, it SCARES THE SHIT OUT OF YOU to conceive us at your level. You have to make this a dick measuring contest, because in that unfortunate possibility where the two of might actually SHRED the bejesus out of the both of in that cage... you need something by which to compare yourself as being better.

Because if you CAN’T win, then by golly, you sure as shit aren’t going down without at least looking “mentally stronger” than the two dimwitted heathens that rudely DENY your return to the throne with their barbaric and bloodthirsty savagery.

Well, believe whatever you want, Sean... it makes no difference to me. Whether we’re weak, strong... failures, successes... it all boils down to perspective. And perspective don't mean shit when the fists start flying.

So put a big giant letter “S” on your chest and call yourself a goddamb superhero, if you honestly believe it will give you superpowers. I guess it doesn’t matter if you’re right or wrong in the end, as long as your record holds up. But you’re the fool here if you think that there isn’t a distinct possibility that your pristine record might befall a rare anomaly.

Forget Black Dawn... this isn’t just you and me. ‘Nark is the kryptonite I’m bringing with me into that cage this... the unknown A-factor that even the mighty King, in ALL of his vast and infinite “wisdom”, can’t possibly predict. A king in his own right... only, unlike you, he doesn’t need to wear a crown and boost the image of royalty to remind people that’s he’s the toughest son of a bitch on the planet. All he needs is fifteen minutes in the ring to show you a new level of pain you’ve never conceived.

But even then... it won’t be anything to the unimaginable torment I want to bring to YOU, Sean...

(Rezin holds up his smudge-splattered first two fingers.)

Rezin
You KNOW what these fingers mean... and should the taste of COTTON find your mouth, I can promise you... you won’t be ignoring us any time soon, regardless of what may come.

And should Impulse get in the way? I’ll take the fucker’s eye out. Anything goes in that cage, and considering the little prick once threatened to cripple me over an off-hand comment, I ain’t taking any chances.

Consider yourself warned, mighty King...

We are coming to usurp you...

To discontinue your reign and end your legacy...

To leave the throne of this Empire vacant for all time... left to slowly decay over the ages...

To bring FREEDOM back to professional wrestling...

We aren’t coming to watch you simply bleed, sweat, cry, and die. We’re coming to fucking DESTROY YOU, Sean Stevens.

So “viva el rey”, Son of Jor El... and cheers toward an era of change... and I do hope the DVD sells well to the actual consumers out there.

(A dastardly grin crosses his face.)

Rezin
Because I wouldn’t want you to be left out there without something to retire on... you know, in case of any unfortunate circumstances that may or may not arise.

(He lets out a dry and ominous chuckle.)

Rezin
Until next time, Sean... just keep talking shit. You know I’ll always have a special place for it.

(Rezin reaches over and pushes down on the handle affixed to the side of his “throne”. As the shot fades to black, we can hear the sounds of the hopes and aspirations of the righteous and innocent being flushed into the toilet of oblivion.)
 

User Poets

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"Maybe I was wrong."

"On one hand, you can't deny the success that the ReziNark team has had since they became soulmates. To have gotten to the finals of the Bracket of Death is a feat, in and of itself... winning this match for either team would be the culmination - winning the King of the Cage one round later would be an afterthought."

...

"But did I really call Rezin the leader of the team? He might have it together in the ring, but he also seems to have the brain power of a hobo, one step away from wetting his pants as protest to the cops kicking him out of his squat."

"Your identification as a comic book nerd is fitting though, Rezin."

"Neckbearded, thin - skinned, argumentative..."

(FADEIN... on the cover of Superman 75.)

"And just as two - dimensional."

The Death of Superman wasn't a powerful story, it was a cynical marketing ploy designed to sell books, and the public ate it up like an endangered Twinkie.

"Being mentally superior is half the battle, Rezin. Being mentally superior is the right mindset toward being physically superior. Maybe we make you look like idiots and you win. Maybe you make us look like idiots and we win."

"Maybe you stop smoking dope and pay the heating bill. Maybe Nark takes a good, long look in the mirror and sees himself for the first time."

"After your diatribe about what ifs, Rezin, I thought you'd see what's going on here. The winners of this match will be determined by what happens in the ring, not what happens on the mic."

"But Sean is the absolute best at it, and I fare pretty well myself, and it's a helluva lotta fun watching you and Nark chase your tails."

"Like the way Anarky says he hates me because I'm a prick, and I pretend to be a nice guy when I am, in reality, a terrible human being."

"I sign autographs. I answer questions. I speak frankly about the state of the wrestling business and where I see it going and who I see making a mark, both good and bad."

"I express my opinions. I don't paint them as right or wrong, just as my own."

At the end of the day, all I own is myself.

"He's a liar! He's not what he claims to be!"

"What have I ever claimed to be, Nark?"

"Truth? I claimed to be a wrestler who had an honest opinion about the man holding the World Title at a particular point in time."

"Truth? Since then, you've been on an unending quest to convince the world that I was wrong, oblivious to the fact that you and Rezin could beat Stevens and myself in a record four seconds with a double pin, and it wouldn't change my opinion of your title reign."

"Nothing you do from this point forward can change the fact that Cameron Cruise made more of an impact as Empire's World Champion for five minutes than you made for nearly a year."

"Truth? What have you been doing for the past two years? You spent a year winning the King of the cage tournament and winning the Empire Pro World Title, then you spent a year trying your best to convince the world - and by extension, me - that you were good at it."

"Well, I'm sorry, Nark - but you don't get a second chance to make a first impression."

"And I think it's interesting how you defend yourself, claiming that you're not like the heroes in the picture books."

I wonder where I heard that before.

Quick cut to my smiling face. Yeah, I can be a prick sometimes.

"The heroes in the picture books had their time in the sun."

And only the most diseased mind would look toward GUNS, Mark Windham, Doc Silver, or Mike Randalls as heroes. What kind of childhood did you have?

"And it's two dimensional thinking like that which makes this saddest of all, Nark. The fact that you can't see past your own press, wherein a world where someone can be critical of your successes and still be cheered by the fans must mean that he's lying to someone somewhere."

Your own argument can't even stand up against itself.

"Truth? Are you the man you're talking about, who tore through the Empire, laying waste to anyone who stood before him?"

"That was Triple X."

"Emerged from the cage victorious? Shamed The First?"

"That was Triple X."

Dance for me, puppet.

"Although I could make the case that I've laid waste to everyone who's stood before me. The Heirs of Wrestling left, but since that triangle match I've faced off with Rezin before he was Rezin, Steven Shane, and Stalker, and it took a cage, a second opponent, and a tazer for Stalker to pin me to the mat."

"But no, I'm not the King of the Cage. Neither is my partner."

"Neither are you."

"The King of the Cage is currently jointly held by Steven Shane and Stalker. You know, the guys who won the last one."

"Unless you mean, all - time Kings? Then you need to share that one with Triple X."

And here I thought you were all about Truth?

"At least your partner is honest with himself, Nark. Rezin is looking at this match realistically without trying to delude himself into being more important than he is. Rezin says he wants to drag Trip and myself down to your level."

I'll point out again, I have barely more than a year in with the Empire, and somehow you both consider me on a higher plateau than you?

Have you tried antidepressants?

"You want to vacate the Empire, Rezin? You want to bring freedom back to the sport of professional wrestling?"

"Considering the fact that I got a contact high talking to you for five minutes before our first round match in the last tournament, why do I have the feeling you consider freedom to be listening to Sleep, staring off into space, with your jaw cracked open and drool coming down your chin?"

Think about it for a second. I'll wait.

I'm just making a point.

"Freedom is a lack of restrictions. Freedom is not being tied down to an idealogy or a label. Freedom is the way you can be a good man and a talented wrestler and still get cheered by the fans when you commit the ultimate sin of being critical of Anarky. Freedom is the way a man can insult and degrade an entire company, then back up his convictions by becoming the KING of the Empire."

"Ironically, Rezin, I think you'd get it."

"If you weren't letting yourself get dragged into Anarky's petty, pointless quest for a revenge he'll never get."

"But we'll do you a favor. We'll take the burden of the King of the Cage off your hands at Aggression so you two can work it out on your own."

"Just a quick piece of advice for you, Rezin?"

"Take a shower."

FADE
 

jayshort

Long Live THE KING
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TRIPLE X: Add a curse word or two, show a little emotion, raise your voice a bit … you wanna know what was funniest about Rezin’s latest long winded diatribe?

FADEIN: …on a wrestling ring. Boring. Worn. Torn, and beaten down. The padding on the ropes were so bruised, that when you bounced against them, your skin instantly began to pierce, and bruise.

You see, despite what others say about EPW superstar, SEAN “TRIPLE X” STEVENS – arrogant, bastard, evil, tyrant, false king – none of those people work nearly as hard as he does.

TRIPLE X: I’ve been arguing with you about your passion, about your heart, about the fact that you chose to become a member of the pothead society, as opposed to taking your craft seriously, and capitalizing on your natural charisma, so that you’d actually be somebody. …and, in your last promo, I finally saw it. The anger, you spoke with conviction, you believed what you were saying, so much so that I began to believe it, too. I called up Randall, got his voicemail because he’s always busy training, didn’t feel like leaving a message, so I watched your promo again, and then I realized how wrong I was.

“See, you weren’t passionate about climbing the one hurdle you’ve never been able to climb, through various incarnations, and bullshit characters … you weren’t even really mad because I’m arrogant, or stupid, or whatever name you decide to call me next. You, sir, were offended because I made a reference to Superman, and didn’t do so like the comic book.

“Do you see why I find it hard to take you seriously, you fucking dork?

“Let’s not mince words, Erik … I have tons of character flaws. I’m not a nice guy, I’ve never been … and, I’ve never once hid my disdain for being ordinary, or my love for living my life lavishly. But, the one thing that I always hung my hat on, the one thing that I was always able to bring up, to ineffective rebuttals, the one thing that I was able to respond with, is the one thing that you can’t counter, make excuses for, or deny … and, that’s my heart. That’s my work ethic. That’s my love for being the absolute best that this sport has to offer. You have your opinion on me, and that’s fine. Opinions are like bicycles, everyone has one that they ride til the wheels fall off … Me? I’m a fact guy.

“Fact, the last time we wrestled, you said, that you were going to beat me. You said that my hair was the one thing that would humble me … and, that for the first time in a very long time, you were tossing that bullshit ‘wins and losses don’t matter’ theory in the garbage where it belongs, and you were coming to win … and, you lost. And, I’m not going to disrespect you and say that it was easy, because it wasn’t … I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it a thousand times … you are a talented wrestler, and you always have been. A couple of years ago, when we were both carving out our niche in this business, I looked at you as a peer. As somebody with similar, if not better mic skills than me. Someone with similar, if not more charisma than me. Somebody that I knew I’d have to look over my shoulders and keep an eye on, because you had the athletic ability to keep up with me in the ring, and could potentially beat me.

“And, then you began to increase your dosage of drugs. Your Mary Jane usage went from recreational to being absolutely essential for you to function, and it showed in your performance. And, your promos. And, your results. So, fuck you for standing on your pedestal, trying to lecture me, about not returning as fast as you thought I should, when Copycat broke my back. While I was in the trenches, fighting day in and day out, paving the way for charismatic individuals like you, with smaller frames, to make an impact. Instead of poking out your chest, screaming a bunch of nonsense at a camera that can’t talk back, and a cameraman who, quite frankly thinks that you’re bi-polar, you should be thanking me.

“And, that’s your real problem with me, isn’t it, Erik? You have to resort to silly little publicity stunts to keep your name in the news, and I don’t. How’d that story go again? Erik got tired of losing; he started talking to himself, his alter ego escaped his body, and began talking back, luring him to a mirror, where Erik now resides, trapped in another dimension while Rezin roams fre— man, grow the fuck up.

“I am everything that you wanted to be in professional wrestling, because I am everything that you started out as. Except, I took it seriously, I learned from my mistakes, got better, and made a legacy out of what was supposed to be a failed attempt at a career. You, Erik? You’re just a failure. Riding one coattail from the next, tossing pasta at the wall, in hopes of something finally sticking.

“Man, fuck you.

“Why didn’t I join the UFC? Same reason I didn’t join the NFL, or sign a contract to fight Floyd Mayweather. It’s because I’m a professional wrestler, not a mixed martial artist, stupid. But, why are you belittling your craft, the industry that you supposedly love by implying that we aren’t as physical or real as another form of fighting? Simple. I do what I do because I’m a wrestler, and you do what you do because you’re not. I’m the real deal, Rezin, and you know it. I don’t have to say it, you can tell by that feeling you get whenever I enter a room … those goosebumps you get, whenever my music plays and I walk to the ring. You’re the type of wrestler that has to tell everyone he’s real. He’s changed. He’s serious. All the while, ten years later, you’re the same doobie puffing goof you’ve always been.

“I’ve beaten you the last two times we’ve wrestled … I don’t have anything to prove to you, or Anarky, but I’m going into this match like I lost our last two encounters, quite simply because I am tired of you, Rezin. I’m sick of your jokes – which aren’t funny, by the way. I’m sick of your stupid interviews, and your promises of a better day.

“The last time we wrestled? I humbled you. Humiliated you, and forced you to take your tired act to the drawing board, and come up with Plan B. This time, I want to hurt you. I want to see you at your weakest, I want to see you gasping for air, head throbbing, heart feeling like it’s going to explode outside of your chest. And, when you’re there, Rezin … at your lowest point … staring at me with those puppy dog stoner eyes … I’m going to Superkick you. With bad intentions. In hopes that you get a concussion that alters your life, and prevents you from making a mockery of this sport. And, then I’m going to end this once and for all.”

"And, laugh, as you re-live it, every single day of your life as you corrode, while watching my DVD, that you purchased, putting even more dollars in my pocket."

FTB

As the sound of grunting was heard, signifying that Triple X had once again, gone back to work, in preparation for Aggression.
 

JLevinson

Diva Tree
Joined
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(FADEIN to an empty training gym. A ring sits in the middle of the gym, and in it, on a folding chair, sits Anarky. He’s wearing street clothes and does not appear to be sweating.)

ANARKY: “I was going to open up with a montage of me and Rezin training and working hard and sweating, but then I realized we’re not a cheeseball duo from the 80’s, and I assume most people at home realize that, you know... I don’t just sit around, smoking cigarettes and drinking all the time.

(Pause.)

ANARKY: “ Okay, well, I do, but I also train and stuff.

“So hey, since nobody wants to watch some gross dude sweat, I figured we could do a little math, since, well, who expects math in a wrestling promo? Nobody, that’s who.

“Let’s start by taking all of the times that Impulse has beaten me. Now think of that number in your head.

“Okay, now, go ahead and add that to the number of times Sean Stevens has beaten me.

“Go ahead and add those together. OK? I’ll give you a minute. This could get hard on you. Feel free to use some scrap paper. I’ll wait.”

(Pause.)

ANARKY: “Okay, great.

“Now, did you have something other than zero? Aw. Well, I’m sorry.

“But you know what, I won’t blame you. The way those two talk, you’d think they spend the last two years, roaming the countryside, pinning me here and there and everywhere.

“Of course, they probably treat the Starbucks barista the same way, so I don’t take it too personally. Impulse is all, ‘Listen, peasant, I’m not impressed by the way you frothed that milk, being a barista is supposed to mean something, and, uh, make the vanilla latte a skinny, okay?’

(Pause. He smirks.)

ANARKY: “I mean, Impulse. Let’s face it. You’re the kinda guy that just legit came out and said that he was so good, beating him in the King of the Cage semifinals would be more important to me than beating the tag team champions and winning the actual tournament.

“That’s so cute.

“Buddy, I know you think you’re a big d*ck in a little cage, but there you go again, bragging about victories you haven’t earned. Last I checked, you and Stevens hadn’t done sh*t to prove to me that you’re better than Karl Brown and Otaku.

“It’s adorable the way you just totally dismiss other people’s accomplishments and piss over everybody else’s things. You’re such a likable guy, it’s clear that the only reason I don’t like you is because you shine such a bright light on my deep insecurities about what I’ve accomplished in my career.

“I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever done anything. Never beaten anybody important. Never held any titles. I’m just a big ball of sad insecurity because Impulse doesn’t approve.

“Yes, I get it, tough guy. You’re just a guy with an opinion.

“What I’m saying is that your opinions are sh*t, you’re an asshole, and I am surprised that anybody can stand to spend more than 5 minutes with you or your sh*tty opinions.

“Don’t make it something it isn’t.

“I’m not gonna lie awake at night wondering if Impulse thinks I’ve had a good title reign.

“But just like you, I have opinions. And unlike you, I am not the single worst human being since Hitler. There, I said it. I feel better.”

(Pause. An insincere smile.)

ANARKY: “I kid, I kid.

“The truth, Impulse, is that I just don’t like you because you just rub me the wrong way. I don’t even think Stevens likes you. He’s just good at pretending because he knows it’s to his advantage to act like it.

“But go on, Impulse. Keep counting those eggs. There’s no way they won’t hatch, right?

“Because you know you’re twice the man I am. You know it in your heart. You believe the truth of it. You don’t need facts or history. You just see a man like me and know your place.

“I didn’t call you Royalty because I worshipped you, son. I called you Royalty because that’s what you think you are. What you’ve already decided for yourself.

“Go on then.

“This should be easy, right?

“And I’ll tell you what. I’ll even let you have something. To prove your greatness.

“You can have this if you can take it from me.”

(He holds up the scrawled-over Television Title, covered in black sharpie.)

ANARKY: “If you pin me, then the EPW World Television Anti-Champion will be no more and you can brag to all of your friends back home how you were right all along and I’m sure they’ll all find that very endearing.

“Same goes to you, Sean.

“After all, this should be easy for you. You’ve already beaten Rezin.

“And little ol’ me?

“Why, you already know about me, don’t you. Because I already fail the only sniff test that exists in your mind: Am I Sean Stevens? No?

“Well then, sucks for me, eh ? Or I choked. Or I mostly just failed up to the impossibly high expectations you’ve set upon me, mother.

“Also, just a word of advice, Sean: if you wanna sell more DVD’s, I’m not sure I’d be makin’ fun of the sittin-at-home-gettin’-stoned-on-a-Friday-night-and-ordering-pizza-crowd. Just sayin’.”

(Pause. Another insincere smile.)

ANARKY: “Don’t worry, Sean. I know very well what you’d do in my position. That’s who you are. I know. I saw.

“Guess what, friend. I’m not you. And you know what’s even more f*cked up?

“I don’t ever want to be you.

“I am Anarky.

“I don’t have nicknames.

“I don’t pretend my accomplishments define me.

“I don’t make promises or guarantees.

“I don’t ever half-ass it.

“I don’t ever quit.

“And I sure as f*ck don’t care if you think I’m a disappointment.

“I don’t measure myself by whatever the f*ck you think I am.

“I get into that ring and I do what I do best: punch pretenders in the mouth until they shut the f*ck up.

“Far as I can tell, y’all have the same exact record: zero and zero. Whatever the f*ck you think you did before means nothing to me.

“That title reign of yours? That you so lovingly caress in your arms like a child?

“Don’t give a f*ck.

“See, there’s the difference between me and you, Sean, and The First.

“When First finally wore you down, after all of those matches, and you finally came up short... you took your ball and went home.

“And when First felt my wrath, finally avenging my very first match in Empire Pro after years of hiatus... he took his ball and went home.

“And when he came back, disguised as Dis, and showed the entire world that he cared more about that belt than trying to stand up to me, man to man, and show the world that he could put these shoulders to the mat...

“Did I run? Did I take my ball and go home and cry about how unfair life was to me?

“No. I got the f*ck up and kept fighting. And speaking the truth.

“And then y’all acted like I was supposed to be disappointed in myself. And so I know I must be right, because if a bunch of diva pr*cks like you didn’t like what I was up to, then I must be on to somethin’.

“You wanna judge me, Sean? Go right ahead. Your opinion means all of sh*t to me.

“You wanna go into that cage and take my EPW Anti-Title? Go right ahead and try. Pin these f*cking shoulders to the mat, friend.

“So sure. So certain of your role.

“So be it, then.

“Impulse and Sean Stevens.. star-crossed tag team partners. Trainin’ hard. Eatin’ vitamins. Havin’ mental toughness. A buncha go-getters.

“Just pencil ‘em in. Put some dollars down, it’s easy money. You’ll be buyin’ a Bentley in no time.

“Me?

“I don’t make promises.

“The cage? The cold steel? The truth?

“It belongs to no man. But it favors he who embraces chaos. He who knows that weakness is a part of life. A part of humanity. A part of us all.

“Yes, gentlemen. We are different.

“We are truth. And you... ?

“Well. I guess we’ll see.”

(FADEOUT as he seems to smile genuinely.)
 

jayshort

Long Live THE KING
Joined
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TRIPLE X: Impulse and I haven’t done anything to prove to you that we’re better than Otaku and Karl Brown; but, you don’t care, or want to hear about Impulse’s IC Title reign, or more specifically my EPW title reign that proves that we are better than Otaku and Karl Brown, especially since I beat Karl during that time.

FADEIN: Stevens’ Miami, Florida condo porch. Triple X was dressed in a grey hoodie, polo sweatpants that swished, and New Balance tennis shoes. And, yes … he was sweating. Fresh from coming off of a jog, that’s what people do, they sweat. We apologize, in advance, to those offended.

TRIPLE X: And, before we get into the meat and potatoes of the reasons why I dislike you, how many times have you beaten me again, ‘Nark? When I was champion…”

Thunder and lightning interrupted, and it would, every single time he uttered the words “when I was champion”, because Lord knows, Triple X shouldn’t be allowed to speak on a moment that was as big for professional wrestling, as it was for his own personal career and bank account.

TRIPLE X: --hey, cut that out,” Stevens said, rolling his eyes at his back of house audio/visual team. “As I was saying … when I was champion, I didn’t know you. You didn’t do a good enough job of making yourself known, of calling me out, or letting me know you had issues with how I ran things, so you toiled in the middle of the card somewhere, I’m guessing. I say ‘I’m guessing’ because I really don’t know for sure. I really learned about you after I left … when I began contemplating coming back, and, even then I never had an issue with you. My only recollection of you inside of the ring was when I returned, and was thrown into that six man when, coincidentally, my partners were the EPW tag team champions, who didn’t care to be there because their titles weren’t on the line and cost us the match.

“And, you and your team were very smart that day. You kept me on the apron, you took advantage of the weak links on our team, and found a way to win, and I commend you. But, nobody pinned my shoulders to the mat, nobody even hurt me for that matter, and if memory serves correct, when that night was said and done, you and your teammates were left in the ring, looking up at the lights, by little old, big mouth, overhyped, not tough … me. So, cut the ‘we’re not better than Karl and Otaku’ bullshit … you knew the truth then, you know it now. And, believe it or not … I could’ve pursued you further, the money was there, we were both considered by most, to be better than The First, and there was an audience of people that really wanted to see who the better man was between us, but I left that match feeling differently about you. You weren’t tough, you weren’t overtly physical, capable of showing me something I hadn’t seen, or anything like I expected, and it was right then and there that I realized why everyone said what they did about your reign as World Heavyweight Champion.

“Anarky, you’re just here … toiling … existing for the sake of existing. You’ll never be anything special, so in an attempt at being remembered, you boost importance level of your meager accomplishments, and discredit those with better accomplishments, in hopes that somebody will believe you, all the while telling us all how much you really don’t care. About how none of this matters.

“I’m comfortable in my position as King. I’ve been comfortable … I was comfortable when I said it, and nobody believed that I was capable of backing my talk up … and I was just as comfortable when those same people changed their minds, and decided to ride the wave. I’m comfortable as arguably the best to ever hold that strap that The First likes to parade around with, and I’m more than content with my spot as The Greatest EPW Superstar of All Time. I didn’t come back for records, or to remind people of what I did, or who I was, because that was then, and this is a completely different era.

“Plain and simple, I came back to fuck Copycat up, for damn near ending my life.

“And, like the phony coward that he is, the moment I returned, he ran.

“You? You’re not even comfortable with the excuses you give as to why you’re mediocre. You’re not even comfortable in your own skin. So, don’t you dare sit there and pretend that I took my ball and ran home, when I stuck around and defended this federation when Copycat unveiled his scheme to take it over, and burn it to the ground, about three or four months after I lost the big gold belt. It’s not my fault that you all expected me to go right after The First again, and end his reign before it started, just because I got cheated. The First is the only champion hated more than I was, and, just because you didn’t get the predictable ending that you wanted, doesn’t mean that you get to re-write the actual one. I had accomplished everything that I had wanted to accomplish, and I went on a different mission, asked of me by the owner of this federation, and a friend of mine, Dan Ryan.

“So, fuck your opinion, bitch.

“Do I act like I’m better than you? Maybe. I haven’t really sat around and thought about it. But, did I miss a memo? Should we be acting like we’re inferior? Where exactly would that get us, in this dog-eat-dog profession that we compete in? Especially when Impulse already knows that all he has to do is criticize you, and you’ll rattle … when I know that you’re not nearly as tough as you talk, when it comes to physical confrontation? When Randall called you out, he did it as a virtual Empire rookie. When I showed you up, and left you on your back? I did that as a fresh out of retirement, from a broken back, Hall of Famer, on a legends contract.

“In fact, fuck playing the nice guy … I am better than you, Anarky. And, here’s the kicker, the blow to your ego, because it makes all of the shit that you’re currently doing feel irrelevant … I’m tougher than you, too, Anarky. Yes, little scrawny, soft as tissue, blonde haired, blue-eyed, Sean Stevens, named after a porno, is tougher than you two wild animals. It doesn’t make sense, it shouldn’t be like this, but it is, bro … and, as you’ll learn at Aggression, there’s really not very much that you or the Dopesmoker can do about it.

“So, find a new goal … a new measuring stick of “what success should look like”, because you’re not getting what you initially wanted out of this tournament. You were so busy looking out for the long distance sniper shot from that snake The First that you crossed the street without looking both ways and ran smack into a bus.

“I don’t like Randall Knox, you’re right. I love him, he is my family, I’ve watched him scratch and claw since his career’s inception, and he was the only superstar I was concerned about before the teams were announced for this tournament, because we come from the same camp, and if anybody knows what it takes to beat me, it would be him.

“You? You, my friend, can keep right on with your vile threats … believe it or not, I try to take you seriously, but I’ve been in the ring with real scary dudes, one that sliced my throat with a razor, and I just don’t get the same feel from you. …and, I could be wrong … but, your career progression, or regression, I should say, says I’m most likely right … and, at Aggression … you’re going to come into that cage, expecting to do what everybody expects to do, when they enter against me. And, you’ll leave getting what everybody gets when the day actually comes.

“Go back to the drawing board, kid. You’re playing games with the wrong wrestlers, and you’re on the verge of witnessing everything that you’ve worked for blow up in your face.

“I wonder what Impulse will say about you then?

“Whatever it is, it’ll surely keep you up at night, tossing and turning, all while telling us how much you’re not staying up at night tossing and turning…

“…predictable punk.”

Stevens got up and walked into his building.


FTB
 

RStrawsma

Strawbot
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
1,512
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Age
40
Location
Indiana
(A new stoner sun rises in the east on a cold December morning in the wasteland called Indiana. Emerging from Casa de la Negra and striding out onto the back porch is the notorious goat bastard REZIN. He pauses for a moment as the rays of dawn turn his black shades a vibrant red, before removing the sunglasses, along with his overcoat, to be wearing nothing but the long black pants he always wears. The cold doesn’t seem to bother him as he casts a determined gaze over his back yard. It actually looks more like a weed-choked JUNK yard.)

Rezin
Aight... let’s get scrapin’.

(CUE UP: “Long Live the King” by Jucifer. Just ignore all the Silent Hill shit... this is the only video I can find.)


(What we get next is the roleplay equivalent of a montage. A Strawtage, if you will. Our first few shots show Rezin clearing heaps of metal, plywood, and other bits of junk out of the way. Next, he sets up an arrangement of steel posts, jamming them deep into the earth. The subsequent shots show him baling up a wreath of rope and winding a tight perimeter around the poles. The sequence is capped off with the goat bastard bearing a proud goat’s grin as he looks over the most ancient and ghetto-ass backyard wrestling ring known to the professional world.)

(Next, we get the generic training sequence over a series of clips with incremental improvement being shown. As we start off, Rezin is running off the ropes of his makeshift ring, trying to build up speed... until the strain causes the buckles to pop, and Rezin drops hard to the ground as the rope snaps loose. Then, we see him trying to steady himself on a balance beam... only to awkwardly flail out of control and land face first into the mud. Next, he’s sizing up a training dummy made out of wood, straw, and burlap and delivering a karate chop, which immediately causes him to grasp his hand in yelp in pain. Finally, we see him standing solid and ready with a blindfold obscuring his vision... and he gets knocked out of the frame as a paintcan tied to a rope swings in and blasts him in the face, Home Alone style. Rezin reacts in the usual comic fashion in every one of these blunders, looking almost helpless... but he determinedly gets back to his feet every time.)

(He starts showing signs of improvement over the next few cuts. Back at the training dummy, he’s beginning to land some hard and successful blows in key pressure areas, causing the dummy to rock around violently on its stick. On the balance beam again, he seems to have finally found his center of balance, and slowly goes from one end to the other a step at a time. Running off the ropes again, they seem to hold in place this time, and he begins to feel confident to run faster. Blindfolded again, he moves through a short obstacle course of rigged hanging paint cans swinging back and forth, getting tagged here and there but ignoring the pain as he keeps pushing forward. When he gets to the other end, he pulls down the blindfold and looks skyward... his eyes filling with a suspicious twinkle the likes of which we haven’t seen before in the Escape Artist.)

(We see the training come full circle as Rezin’s focus, patience, and persistence begin to pay off. We see him back on the balance beam, keeping perfect poise as he shadow-boxes the air like Bruce Lee. Under the blindfold again, he calmly walks through an array of swinging paint cans, avoiding every one of them with an inhuman smoothness to his motions. Before the training dummy, we see him land a single spinning Damascus Heel kick that tears the burlap and wood into a cloud of splinters and dust. Back in the ring, he’s bouncing off the ropes at full speed, capped off with a leap that springs him up to the top rope. We get the flight of his springboard moonsault from multiple angles, as if we were giving an homage to Kevin Bacon in footloose. He lands on his feet and drops into a knee position, delivering to the camera the confident smile of an ancient hashashin agent with a poison-tipped blade in one hand and a hash pipe in the other.)

(In the last shot, Rezin, glazed in sweat after a full day of training, whips out his stupidphone and checks his updates. His eyebrows perk up when he sees one for Anarky’s newest promo, and plays it.)


Anarky (V/O)
“I was going to open up with a montage of me and Rezin training and working hard and sweating, but then I realized we’re not a cheeseball duo from the 80’s...”

(Rezin looks up to the camera, now fully aware of his cheesballness.)

Rezin
...well, shit.

(The Strawtage ends with the music, and our promo proper begins with Rezin assuming the lotus posture as he sits with a quiet calm while perched on the wooden bannister that marks the edge of the porch to his house. His coat and shades are back on, and he seems to be in a trance as he makes a strange moaning noise.)

Rezin
...MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMNNNNNNN.....

gggggooooOOOODDAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMNNNN.....

(At this point, our reporter on the scene, KENNY LOMBARDO, making a routine visit, steps out onto the porch and finds the Escape Artist in this state. He arches an eyebrow briefly to the camera before announcing himself.)

Kenny Lombardo
Uh, hey Rezin.

Rezin
MMMMMNNNNNNNIITT -- GODDAMNIT, KENNY!! Can’t you see I’m BUSY here?!

Kenny Lombardo
Oh, sorry... I didn’t mean to interrupt your meditation.

Rezin
It’s not mediation, Kenny. It’s REZITATION!

Kenny Lombardo
...uh, what’s the difference?

(Rezin impatiently sighs as he hops off the bannister and joins Kenny on the porch.)

Rezin
EVERYTHING this different. I’m not trying to find my center of peace, or some hippy shit like that. When I REZITATE, I take the inward voyage to find my center of CHAOS. Every painful memory... every dark realization... every lament that the cold bitterness of truth brings... I let it sink down to my core. I let it consume my soul. And in that blackness, and I can hear the night calling... calling for blood... calling for the ULTRA-VIOLENCE...

Kenny Lombardo
...geez, you’re weird.

(The goat bastard casts him a threatening glance.)

Rezin
What the hell brought you here, anyway?

Kenny Lombardo
Oh, not much... I was just checking up on you, seeing on how you were doing as we approach what you describe as your moment of destiny, against the duo “Triple X” Sean Stevens and Impulse when we reach Aggression 71.

Rezin
Well see for yourself, Kenny...

(He waves an arm across the backyard and Lombardo analyzes the scene.)

Rezin
The only thing I HAVEN’T done yet is build a machine that simulates the effects of a superkick!

Kenny Lombardo
My God. Is that... a wrestling ring?

Rezin
No, Kenny... it’s an altar.

(He holds up a clenched fists near his face the way a supervillain would as he curses the heroes.)

Rezin
An altar upon which I sacrifice my body, my time, and my life... for the glorious fulfillment the lust of battle brings me.

Kenny Lombardo
Well, you’re being awfully melodramatic today. Backyard training courses... “rezitations”... you certainly seem to be taking this match seriously.

Rezin
Well, Kenny... I’m seriously getting tired of hearing guys like Sean Stevens and Impulse repeat things to me that I’ve already known and admitted to. Things to give them the impression that nothing’s ever going to change, and I’m always going to be a failure.

Kenny Lombardo
I take it you found the time to hear the comments made by your opponents, then?

Rezin
I was unfortunate enough to, yes... and you know what I think?

Kenny Lombardo
What’s that?

Rezin
I think...

...I’m beginning to miss Alceo Dentari.

Kenny Lombardo
...really?

Rezin
For reals, Kenny.

Kenny Lombardo
...are you high right now?

Rezin
Honky, do you SEE a bowl in my hand right now?

HAVE you seen a bowl in my hand... all week?

Now, listen... I know he was just yet another asshole who thought he was better than the company, and got proven wrong... but at least he said his piece and said it with honesty, and did it all within a single promo, without having to draw out his bullshit one-dimensional mindset over the course of the week. Can’t say I blame him, considering he didn’t really know enough about anything or anyone related to this company to really have an opinion to spout off on.

But he didn’t just pick up our every point and try to turn it around on us, like he was shining the light on the truth. You know... the truth we weren’t trying to hide, and had already exposed to the world weeks before.

And he didn’t get progressively more and more angry, desperate, and “fuck you, bitch” with every promo. As if winning the verbal argument was more important than winning the match.

And that’s what I miss... being able to just come on camera and be what I am, rather than being dragged into this constant arguing and shit-slinging. So, that’s why I’m getting back to basics... training my ass off... keeping focused on what’s important here, which is the physical task that lies ahead.

Kenny Lombardo
But, how will that translate into victory over the team of two of the most vaunted and successful men within the company?

(Rezin shrugs.)

Rezin
I couldn’t think of a way to tell you how, Kenny. All I know is that it can’t hurt my chances.

I mean, I wish I could stand here like my opponents and say with all confidence that I know we’re going to win this match and I know exactly how we’ll get it done. But I’m pretty much in position to do that, having never beaten either of these guys. There’s no point in my trying to play the fact-finding game... because regardless of how it all gets spun around, the debate always comes to an end when somebody says “I get results”... which is something that I obviously can’t say, given the circumstances.

So all I have is the determination to prove these fuckers wrong and the hope that I’ll find a way to do it. I have hope that Anarky and I will help each other get it done...

Kenny Lombardo
“Hope?” That’s a funny thing to hear out of you, being the master of misery and despair...

Rezin
Well, you know... even the black side of the yin-yang has it’s white spot.

But hope... a DARK hope that ‘Nark and I have the teamwork, the communication, and the chemistry necessary to bring us over everything that has made their reputation as athletes that go beyond the limits. That’s really what this all hinges on.

It doesn’t matter if either of these guys are so consistent and good that they could beat either one of us in a one on one match nine times out of ten under normal circumstances. These aren’t the normal circumstances. This is the King of the motherfuckin’ CAGE! Four men and no tag rules. They aren’t fighting Anarky. They aren’t fighting Rezin. They’re fighting Anarky AND Rezin. And the minute one of them turns their back on either one of us, the other will make him suffer for it.

All week they’ve talked about how important it is that the entire world knows that they are the better two athletes on paper in every which way. But a combination of better athletes doesn’t always make the best team.

Just look at the rest of the sports world. In baseball, the Yankees, with the perceived best and most accomplished in the sport on their roster, fell flat in playoffs. In the NBA, the L.A. Lakers, with all of their vaunted talent, are flagging at the start of the season. In football, you got your Lions and Eagles basically not living up to their expectations.

Meanwhile, you’ve got teams -- take, for example, the Nap-Town COLTS -- that brazenly refuse to live under the circumstances. They come together... they stand strong... and the push themselves forward not just to live up to expectations, but to DEFY them. And somehow they make it happen... just like Anarky and I.

What do you call that magic, Kenny? Is it LUCK?

Kenny Lombardo
...well, in the case of the Colts, yes, I’d say it very much is all because of the number one draft pick. For you and Anarky, though... I’m not sure. The two of you have proven to be very resilient and crafty, not to mention determined. But how will any of that take you over Stevens and Impulse, who have proven to be just as resilient, just as crafty, and perhaps even more determined?

Rezin
MORE determined? Not sure about that, Kenny. Sure, I can believe they want to win this... but I don’t think many people quite realize yet that Anarky and I NEED to win this. Because if we can’t prove we can beat these guys, in this match, with everything on the line... how will we prove our future accomplishments to be anything more than flukes?

If we don’t win this, then, well... it just validates everything that’s been said. And no matter how many times we cross paths with these guys in the future, we’ll never live to hear the end of it. No matter where we go from here on out, one of the two of them will be right there to piss all over us. Any successes we may have will be nothing but flukes... and they will always pale in comparison to their greatness.

Because the benefit of being consistently successful in that ring is that they can cherry-pick the facts to their liking and ignore all the glaring details... and it really doesn’t matter if what you’re saying is the gospel truth or a ton of horseshit, as long as you can always fall back on the “I get results” mantra to end a any debate.

A perpetual limbo of me getting superkicked and verbally degraded... one week after the next...

But I refuse to live in those circumstances. They can manipulate the facts and revise history to their liking, but... that doesn’t make their bullshit any more RIGHT.

And it doesn’t make me any less motivated to keep pulling myself out of the dirt they put me into... all for the chance to one day prove these fuckers wrong.

Sean Stevens may be comfortable with who he is what he’s done. And that’s fine with me... I want him to be comfortable. Complacent, even. Complacency leads to over-confidence and lowered defenses.

Anarky and I, on the other hand... we are not comfortable. We are HUNGRY. We are the Lions of Tsavo... beasts of nature driven to madness... and not even the so-called superior are safe from our NEED to devour and sustain.

The cage is not a courtroom for a king. It is a house of horrors... and we are the monsters in the shadows.

Regardless of records, there are two facts I’ve got on my side...

One... I am a tag team legend... the ORIGINAL EPW Tag Team Champion.

And two... I am a King of the Cage veteran... and while I’ve yet to win one, over three tournaments, NOBODY has beaten me within the cage.

Taking back those tag team titles and winning this tournament would only further reinforce those claims... and this is the moment of truth. This is where the “Triple X” Sean Stevens highlight reel ends, and the Anarky and Rezin reel begins anew.

But we have got to find a way to make it happen... and whatever happens when the cage door closes, I’m going to be at my sharpest and most prepared for whatever the CHAOS gives to me.

No more excuses, Kenny... this is it. This is the bottom... and if I don’t muster up everything and more, then I might as well roll over and die as the shit buries me alive.

(Kenny says nothing as Rezin descends the steps of the porch and walks to the make-shift ring marking the center of his Fortress of Jankitude, checking the ropes, possibly considering giving it another go. Lombardo shakes his head, perhaps with pity, before he turns around and sees himself out without another word.)
 

User Poets

The Shadow Pope
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"Seriously, Rosie... when did you have time to do all this?"

"There are twenty four usable hours in a day, Sean."

"But... you had this idea twenty minutes ago."

"So? I work fast."

(SFX: Canned applause.)

V/O: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the World Premire of the Greatest Gameshow in Television History! Get Ready For..."

(FADEIN: Each word appearing on the screen as the deep voiced announcer spoke along with what was apparently a studio audience.)

LET'S SURVIVE THE BRACKET OF DEATH!

(CUTTO what appears to be the back wall of a bar. The name of the show is taped to the wall, there's a wheel below the name of the show with words taped to it.

There were two tables set up on either side of the wheel. On the left was Impulse, with a short glass in front of him. He sipped it like it was Irish Whiskey.

Yeah, he's sipping.

On the right was 'Triple X' Sean Stevens, drinking a bottle of Brooklyn Lager.

The camera panned left, and sitting on a third table was none other than legendary wrestling managed 'Poison' Ivy McGinnis.)

McGINNIS: Welcome, everyone, to 'Let's Survive the Bracket of Death!' I'm your host, Ivy McGinnis, and I'm excited to see which of our contestants will come out on top! For the moment, let me introduce you to our lovely hostess, Rosalyn 'Calico Rose' Callasantos!

(SFX: Canned applause as Rose steps in front of the wheel. She's wearing a plain black tank top and casual flowing skirt, with several small mirrors attached to it, perhaps to emulate sequins?)

McGINNIS: Lovely, isn't she?

IMPULSE: I'd say so.

McGINNIS: No flirting with the hostess, Knox.

IMPULSE: But she's so cute!

(He leans over just as Rose does, and they have a brief kiss on the lips.)

(SFX: Awwwwh...)

STEVENS: I have to play this game under protest, my opponent is clearly seducing the hostess.

McGINNIS: Shut up, Sean, you're going home with the host.

STEVENS: Touche.

McGINNIS: Anyways, you all know how the game is played--

IMPULSE: Actually, nobody told us.

McGINNIS: We're about to, if you'll just shut the ***** up and let us.

V/O
(Off - camera): CUSSBUCKET!

ROSE: Them's the rules. You can pay us later.

McGINNIS: AHEM. As I was saying, you all know how the game is played. Our lovely hostess will spin the wheel and you contestants will be asked a question. First one to answer gains fifty points. Our categories are...

Anarky Excuses

Rezin Inconsistencies

General Wrestling Trends

The Empire.


Now, we did flip a coin before the show -

STEVENS: When did we do that?

McGINNIS: and Mr. Stevens did win the toss.

STEVENS: I withdraw my objection.

McGINNIS: Miss Callasantos, will you please spin the wheel?

IMPULSE: Why do we need a wheel again?

ROSE: It's a game show, RK - you need a wheel.

(Rose spins the wheel, and it slows down, and lands on Rezin Inconsistencies.)

McGINNIS: Now, Mr. Stevens... Rezin and Anarky are a dark, antisocial team. How, then, can he reconcile his good humored joking with Kenny Lombardo, and the fact that it's literally impossible to be stoned all the time and in a foul mood?

(CUE UP: Jeopardy theme.)

STEVENS: Well, Ms. McGinnis, if I had to answer that, I would say that Rezin is something of a play - actor, completely lacking in any actual defined personality of his own and willing to say or do whatever it takes to get a moment's attention.

He does his best to pretend like he doesn't care about anything, but that goes against his own history. I took his hair at the pay per view, but that doesn't matter. I beat him like a dog, but that doesn't matter.

We can humiliate them and it won't matter, but if they somehow manage to defy the odds and eek out a victory, it'll be up there with the Miracle Mets. Pretty inconsistent, if you ask me.

McGINNIS: Judges?

(Silence for a few moments, then the old Windows 'TA-DA'! sound played.)

McGINNIS: Fifty points for Sean Stevens!

(SFX: Canned applause.)

McGINNIS: Mr. Knox, it's your turn.

(The wheel spins around and around, landing on Anarky Excuses.)

McGINNIS: Mr. Knox, for fifty points...

Anarky has taken you to task for making comments that either imply or outright state that this match is more important than the King of the Cage finals, yet he has made the offer to put his EPW Television Championship on the line as a topper to a match with far more history to it than any potential King of the Cage finals. Why do you think Anarky would do this?

(CUTTO: Close up of Impulse, thinking deeply. CUE UP: Jeopardy theme.)

IMPULSE: I think he's suffering from clinical depression. His attacks aginst Triple X are obvious: Trip earned so much more respect with his World Title reigns than Nark ever did, even though he's the man who beat the man who beat Triple X. But Anarky's spotlight on my comments tells me that he's of the camp that the belt makes the man. That the Finals will be more important by default since the Empire's tag team belts will most likely be on the line.

But that's against his own history of action. He was obsessed with my opinion of him since the first moment I gave it, and is still on a never - ending quest to earn my approval, and I've both won and lost a championship belt since then. The only conclusion that can be garnered from that is that I'm held to a certain standard or regard whether I'm holding a championship or not.

His offer to put the Empire's TV Title on the line for this match tells me that he's at the end of his rope. He can't reconcile what I've said against his own status, so he's trying to be daring by putting his own belt on the line against our respective reputation. He thinks that the allure of immediate gold will be sufficient to distract and possibly divide us, but Sean and I have our eyes on a larger prize, and while I respect the office of the Empire's Television Championship, in this environment it takes a backseat to the King of the Cage.

McGINNIS: Judges?

(SFX: Windows sound.)

McGINNIS: Fifty points for Impulse!

(SFX: Canned laughter.)

McGINNIS: Calico Rose, spin that wheel!

(Cally spun the wheel, and it somehow, magically, landed on The Empire.)

McGINNIS: Sean Stevens, for fifty points... the King of the Cage is the most prestigious event that the EPW hosts. What would it mean to you to be King of the Cage for the second time?

STEVENS: King of the Cage is really only as significant as you believe it is. The way the brackets worked out, Knox and I ended up in the toughest bracket you could possibly be in. That's a good sign to the fans out there that this tournament wasn't managed: as suspect as I consider everyone else's talent, Dan Ryan wouldn't've put Knox and I, The First, Cameron Cruise, Anarky, and Rezin all into the same bracket.

Impulse called the six of us the six top wrestlers in this company and, while that may be true, there's quite a dropoff after the first three. And I only count The First in that category since he has the belt. Like my partner - slash - gameshow opponent just said, when the belt makes the man, the man is less than a man.

Does this make both Knox and myself better men than the EPW World Champion at this moment? I'd have to say yes.

(Silence for a moment.)

McGINNIS: Judges?

(TA DA!)

McGINNIS: Fifty points for Sean Stevens! Triple X with a lead of one hundred to fifty! We've got one question left, if Impulse misses, then Triple X will officially survive the Bracket of Death! Spin that wheel!

IMPULSE: There's only one category left...

ROSE: Sorry, RK, nobody's allowed to question the wheel.

(Rose spins the wheel, and when it's slowing down to a covered category, she manually stops it on General Wrestling Trends.)

McGINNIS: Randall Knox, you've been taken to task for your criticism of other wrestlers who consider themselves fan favorites. Specifically, Anarky has called you a prick and a bastard because you have not endorsed him as a Champion. Does his criticism hold water?

STEVENS: Isn't that more of an opinion--

IMPULSE: It's an ego thing, Ms. McGinnis. Anarky's ego considers himself to be the be all, end all of professional wrestling, and his tiny brain can't comprehend anyone who would criticize him and still get cheers from the fans. The difference is that I welcome and address the criticisms other wrestlers express toward myself. Anarky refuses to face reality: instead of acknowledging his shortcomings and maybe working around them, he hopes nobody will notice, and tries to paint anyone who doesn't fall in line as a terrible human being.

You'd think the combination disgust and apathy that he brings to every arena would be a sign, but maybe I give him more credit than he deserves.

(SFX: TA DA!)

McGINNIS: We are tied after regulation time! We'll have the tiebreakers in just a moment, but for right now, let's learn a little more about our contestants! Impulse, tell us something about you in five seconds or less!

IMPULSE: Well, I trained under Terry Cooper in this very--

McGINNIS: Thank you, Mr. Knox! Mr. Stevens, something about yourself?

STEVENS: I knocked up the host and fairly regularly take her to the top of the mountain.

(There was a moment of silence before a canned "OOOOOOOOH!" rang out.)

McGINNIS: Regardless, our bonus round will consist of two physical challenges. First up is Impulse! Impulse, please stand up!

(Impulse stood up in front of his table.)

McGINNIS: Your challenge is to make Anarky cry. You have thirty seconds.

(Zoom out. Whispers and laughter accompanied Adrien 'Little Voltron' Evans, dressed just like Anarky and with an Anarky wig and appropriately designed makeup, as he walked out onstage.)

McGINNIS: And... GO!

'ANARKY': I'm sad and angry, what'chu got?

(Impulse leaned in right by 'Anarky's' ear.)

IMPULSE: You're mediocre and forgettable, even with a belt.

('Anarky' stepped back, and feigned tears, running away. SFX: Canned applause.)

McGINNIS: Very well done, Impulse. Triple X, you're up. You have a similar challenge before you.

(Zoom right, where an obviously homeless man has stepped next to Triple X's table. The man has a bald head and a big bushy beard, and is visibly dirty.)

McGINNIS: Thirty seconds, Sean, for you to make Rezin cry. And... GO!

'REZIN': I'm all tough and stuff!

(Triple X didn't say a word, he simply kicked him in the groin. 'Rezin' went down immediately.)

McGINNIS: Ladies and gentlemen, this is a first for this show, we have a tie! Impulse and Sean Stevens have just proven themselves to be both on equal ground and head and shoulders above Anarky and Rezin! Any final words, gentlemen?

(CUTTO: Impulse and Trip, gesturing that each other should go. Finally, Impulse speaks.)

IMPULSE: I'd like to think we got this far due to our talent, and that we'll continue on based on that same talent, but the bald, plain facts tell a different story.

It's not that Anarky and Rezin are in out of their depth, it's that they're trying to fight a fight they can't hope to win, because Triple X and I are on a higher level than they are.

The Bracket of Death was well named, and I fully believe that the winner of this match will ultimately be named Kings of the Cage.

Can't they just be resigned to coming in second?

(SFX: Canned laughter. The Jeopardy theme. Everyone involved is schmoozing with each other at the end of it all, just like a real game show.

And no, none of them ever break character. FADE.)
 
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jayshort

Long Live THE KING
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“On the one hand…”


FADEIN: The scene opened up inside of an empty arena. The ring was empty, there were no signs, billboards, or posters anywhere visible inside of the twenty thousand seat arena, but one would think it was the sight for the seventy-first edition of Aggression.

<o:p
</o
EPW superstar SEAN “TRIPLE X” STEVENS sat in the front row, leaned over, in thought, forehead occasionally grazing the edge of the guardrail, in a hunter green addidas sweat suit, his hair tied back into a pony-tail, sporting a pretty noticeable five o’clock shadow.
<o:p
</o
TRIPLE X: On one hand, Rezin is absolutely correct. Words are nothing more than the sum of our actions. No action, nothing to say. But, when I said that none of what we said matters, I wasn’t giving professional wrestling the green light to make picket signs, and protest against promos, and the people that cut them effectively … he misunderstood what I meant. What I meant was, none of what he said mattered because he had no actual past actions that would suggest that he could back up his ridiculous statements.
<o:p
</o
“So, while I’m branded as nothing more than an arrogant, one dimensional ‘trashtalker’ … it never really bothered me much, because the way I see it, the only moment when one should shut up, is if they can’t back up what they say.

“And, as much as I talk, as much as everyone hates my guarantees, and bravado … all anybody has to do is stop me. Got a problem with what I have to say? Shut me up, Erik. Take your fist, shove it down my throat, knock me out, pin me … make it undeniable, and I have nothing to say.


“You know why you haven’t? Why you won’t? Because as much as it hurts you to admit it, you have to look yourself in the mirror and know that you can’t.
<o:p
</o
“You can’t beat me, Erik … and, I’m not silly or inexperienced enough to base that off of our last two matches … that’d be stupid. I base it off of the look of fear in your eyes. That look that I saw when we were locked in that cage, at a stalemate, and you realized that you had reached your ceiling, with no place else to go. You had the world watching, that was your moment, and you peaked somewhere mid-match, and had no way of finishing the job. I knew I was going to beat you in that cage, I knew that if I withstood enough, if I bent, but didn’t break, eventually, you would … and, you did.


“So, now you’re on this “truth campaign” … trying to convince anyone who will listen that this time will be different, because there are different circumstances, and you’ve got help. Rezin, nobody – myself included – believes you. If I have you hurt, compromised, looking up at the lights, you hope Anarky will have your back, but deep down on the inside, you don't know it, and you’re scared.


“What if the rumblings are true? What if he is a quitter … a phony. Impulse is my family, and loves me, and will fight ‘til there is no more breath in his lungs to protect me, because he knows that I’d do the same for him, because that’s how we were raised.


“You? You’ve got to know that Anarky is using you. Just like he knows you’re using him. You two couldn’t get it together on your own, so you created whatever it is that you guys are, in hopes of the numbers advantage resulting in different results. But, the moment you get what you want … what happens then? What happens when one is looked at more favorably than the other? First hated playing second fiddle to Felix. You really trust your bond?”


Triple X dug beneath his chair, and pulled out a miniature little black duffle bag, and reaches inside. What he did next was shocking, to say the least. He pulled out a championship belt, the EPW World Heavyweight Championship, the original version, not the replica carried around by The First – this was a copy of the real thing. He took it and propped it over his shoulder.


TRIPLE X: No, I’m not having a flashback … I just know how much this irritates you, Rezin. Anarky, too. I know who our champion is, and although he’s a fool, and doesn’t deserve it, I have no desire to label myself the anti champion, or anything else. I just want to prove a point. The reason you roll your eyes, and dissect my promos, and character, and career is because you don’t know any better. You haven’t had anything close to the success I’ve had, and I’d be an idiot to take advice from someone who hasn’t. You want the fans, the world to believe you’re capable of things you’re not even sure you’re capable of, and whenever you get on one of your little rolls, I always find myself asking the same question:


“How are we supposed to believe that you’re going to put in so much work, when you don’t even have a resume?

<o:p
</o
“Furthermore, how are you going to call another man’s promo redundant, or insinuate that someone’s saying the same thing over and over, when … you … cut the exact same promo, with your silly ass videos at the beginning? And, what groundbreaking information did you tell the public about me this entire week?

“That I’m rich?


“Narcissistic?


“Newsflash, they know it.

“And, they also know that I’ll call a spade a spade and a bitch a bitch if the shoe fits, because that’s who I am. You spend so much time trying to convince others that you’re perfectly fine being you, yet you spent an entire week criticizing me for being … me.


“Hypocrite.


“I’m not going to continue to go back and forth with you, Rezin. You think what you think, and believe what you believe. My job is not to understand you, it’s to beat you. And, as much as I’m sure it pains you to hear it, I’m pretty good at it. Wait, that was too humble ... Pardon me, I'm very good at it. And, you're equally as great losing to me.


“You go through a lot of mood swings, but I’m built for that. At Aggression? I’m going to beat you until your skin changes colors like a mood ring. Why are fat people constantly called fat? Because they won’t lose weight. You want me to stop calling you a pathetic, inconsistent, drugged, failure? Win matches. Beat me. Take my crown. Sit atop the throne.

“Word of advice? It’s a lot easier said than done. But, who am I kidding? …you know that already. You’ll get a fresh reminder in a couple of days.”


FTB

<o:p></o>
 
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