Re: There's Some History Here
We find Phil Atken once again standing his own lil body in front of a gloriously shimmering IGC banner. Phil is standing up and facing the camera directly. By Phil's side is a small table where a tumbler glass and a bottle of whisky sitting right next to it. Phil begins to pour some of the whisky into the tumble as he begins to talk.
Atken: I've always been more of a whisky man, to me brandy is the domain of old church going ladies to prove they still have some life left in 'em. Either that or what people suffering from the cold use as an excuse to drink during the morning. Seems they've found a new spokesperson though. I'm sure your local congregation are very proud of you Jackie.
Phil takes a swig from the tumbler, not letting eye contact break from the camera for even a second.
Atken: Of course, I'm not playing pretend either. Really though, I have to thank you Jack. It delights me to the nth degree that you decided to open that inexplicably large mouth of yours. Took me a while to figure out what you were saying given you have decided to affect an accent that would cause Guy Ritchie to turf you out for being too over the top. I suppose the old saying is right, why bother having a personality when you can just have an accent instead. Much easier, isn't it? And you have the nerve to call my little interview a “cinematic masterpiece”. Any critic worth their salt would walk out the minute they heard your god damn voice.
Now, of course, you must be wondering why I'm standing here in this little room here standing in front of the camera and thanking you. Well, we'll get to that in due course, first I feel like I need to provide the fine folk at the IGC a little bit more of a history lesson.
As if by magic, Phil produces a small monitor and a DVD player and plunks them down on the small table right next the whisky.
Atken: You see, as shocking as some of you may find this, Jack's right. I've been far too soft, yeah you could say ****e flavoured ice cream soft, for a very long time. At some point I chose a fork in the road and decided I no longer cared for the glory, I just wanted to entertain the fans, to amuse them, give 'em something to talk about on the ride home. There was no longer any drive to be a dominant force, no lust for gold, no legacy to cement. A pay cheque and a microphone was enough for me. Probably still would be if the last year hadn't happened.
I gots me a call last year, an invite to return to NFW and I started tossing out all these weird and wonderful ideas, some people would call them idiotic but I was sure the fans would love them, that they'd get a kick out of them. I ended up running with the idea of having a bucket as a my manager, eh not the best idea but good enough, I thought, it'll be funny enough. There I was, ready for my return to NFW, a chance to get a steady income again not to mention the opportunity to connect with the fans once more. Time for my big return...
CUT TO: Fan footage of NFW's Brawl 35 event in Greely, Colorado. Jack Bryant has just made Phil Atken submit with the Southern Cross but refuses to let go.
CUT TO: Phil Atken being wheeled out the arena on a stretcher. He gives the cheesy thumbs up on the way out but the crowd appears to have already went out for pop corn.
CUT TO: Current day Phil Atken, back again, smashing his great clunking fist down upon the DVD player, cutting out the replay as he does so.
Atken: Didn't quite work out that way, one match in and I was already on a trip to the hospital. Turns out this Jack Bryant character wanted to use me to send a message because hey, who cares about Phil Atken? He's expendable! Turns out that this other Jack, he got a little bit too excitable. Locked in the hold a little too tightly AND ALMOST BROKE MY DAMN BACK.
Still, time heals us all. A few months in hospital and a good year sitting around my apartment and finally I'm fighting fit again. The only problem is, that was a lot of free time to have on my hands. Some would say a dangerous amount of free time. Of course, I ended up doing what many a person with free time does, I started to google myself. I'm willing to admit it, I'm that shallow a man, I wanted to see how I was being remembered.
Turns out I wasn't being remembered, I was already cast into the dustbin of history, no one was wondering where I was. I didn't even get me one of them quirky “Where are they now?” features that so many of us get when we step out of the spotlight.
Atken begins to unscrew his bottle o' whisky and begins to pour away at at it again, this time almost filling up the tumbler to its brim.
Atken: So I suppose I got a little tied up in this little google search of mine, no one wants to leave this industry as a forgotten joke. We all want to be remembered but only few are. I'm back to ensure that I'm one of those select few. I'm here to claw, scratch, bite and bugger, if it comes to it, to be a champion once again. In fact, I'm going to ensure I'm the first Intergalactic Champions, that in the annals of history, Phil Atken is recognised as the IGC's first face. I'm going to prove that this little joke has a lot of life left in him.
Phil downs his filled up tumbler, almost choking as he does so.
Atken: So once again, thank you Jack Harris, thank you for putting me down, thank you for swatting me off like a fly. I shall get down on bended god damn knee to thank you for treating me like a joke because now I get to be your biggest humiliation. After all, who could dream of getting beaten by a joke like Phil Atken, he could only win if his opponent was severely handicapped, isn't that right Jack Attack? It would really be stinging to be put down by a man like that, wouldn't it? I'm sure it'd be hard to even show your face back in ACW going down at my hand.
But that's what's going to happen. It's not a bad thing really, you and Ito, you need this. You need to learn from my mistakes of the past. That hubris only gets you so far, that being the big loud voice only works as long as people care what you have to say. For me and Max to beat you, for us to take down ACW is really a small mercy on my part. It's better you learn from history than repeat it and this piece of history is going to smack you two across the face.
You see, Infinite may be trying to get up off the ground at the moment but we're going to plant a flag at Fly Me to the Moon, and I'm going to ram that flag up your arses and salute it. That's what I'm going to do. Jack, Ito, you're representing the evil empire, going up against the scrappy underdogs, god knows Max is a scrappy chappy. If you were even a little bit well read you'd know how that one always ends.
Phil this time around decides to bypass the tumbler entirely and begins to swig directly from the bottle.
Atken: Of course, IGC seems to be slightly twisted. It seems they want to tie people to a company banner then turn against each other after the first fall. That me and dear old Max will have to go up against each other after the empire crumbles. I suppose it's someone’s idea of big old joke. To watch two men build up trust and celebrate in victory and then make them turn against each other mere seconds later. Still, I want that belt, I want to be the first champion of IGC, I want a god damn legacy so I have to play this stupid little game.
Max, you're like I once was. You're an entertainer, you're cute, you're a joker, the fans love that over the top side of you. Sooner or later you're realise the minute you leave the arena, they forget about you. I'm going to do you a big favour at Fly Me to the Moon, I had to go to hospital to learn my lesson, you're just going to have to go down and accept defeat to learn yours.
That belt will be mine, I will be remembered. I WILL BE REMEMBERED, DAMN IT!
Phil sweeps the entire table and the last sound heard is that of smashing glass as be fade to black.
