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Back Where It Belongs

TWhitefield

League Member
Joined
Apr 16, 2004
Messages
49
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Age
52
Fade In: We see a dimly lit house somewhere in the middle of the night. The darkness is suddenly broken by two headlights being somewhat dispersed while they cut through the early morning fog. The car comes to a stop in front of what appears to be the front door. As the car door swings open, a motion sensor kicks off a couple of floodlights... one of which is burnt out. Enough light shines toward the car to allow us to make out Tom Adler walking around the front of the car. As Adler makes his way up the walkway, he pauses a few yards away from the front stoop and takes a moment to look around the surroundings. Tom Adler had come home.

Adler opens the front door and walks through. He flips a light switch just inside and the foyeur illuminates to find a hall that still looks rather dark and dingy through the light. It had been over five years since anyone had been to his home just outside Pittsburgh... and it showed. Adler punches a few keys into the still active security system, and procedes to make his way down the hallway toward a set of sliding double doors.

Adler slides open one of the doors and walks through, his route altered slightly by the presence of some rather thick cobwebs just inside the door. He tears his way through the thinnest section and makes his way into the room. He makes his way to a desk where he reaches to a lamp, hoping the bulb still works. It does. Adler takes a moment to survey the surroundings. Somewhat annoyed by the appearance of the room.

ADLER: Note to self... re-hire the maid.

Adler turns and finds a wall cabinet with glass doors. Adler looks inside through the glass... as if to ensure that there were no occupants inside other than those he expected, then proceded to open the doors. He tears through the cobwebs and a rather large video tape collection is revealed. He scans through the shelves, then reaches in and pulls out one marked "CSWA: Presidential Title Matches" and pops open the plastic case. He makes his way to the other side of the room, tears the cobwebs away from the front of the video center and slides the tape into the vcr. He grabs the remote, and gets a somewhat surprised look on his face when he realizes the batteries still have some assemblance of power left. He fast forwards through most of the matches... hitting play as the tape reaches his final match in defense of the Presidential Championship... a "Loser Leaves The CSWA" Match with "The Perfect Package" Scott Watters. Adler walks over to the sofa and plops down, stirring up a huge cloud of dust in the process.

ADLER: Better make that several maids.

Adler had oft been accused of... "dogging it" in matches that he didn't care about, or didn't think he should be forced to wrestle. At times, by his own admission, to his detriment. This match would be no exception. He hadn't been happy in the CSWA, despite having won both the World Title and the Presidential Title in such a relatively short period of time. Whether "dogging it" ever meant outright jobbing of a match isn't entirely known. But, clearly, on this night, Adler's priorities were more on getting out of his contract than successfully defending a championship that he actually held quite a bit of respect for.

Adler watches through to the end of the match and flips the stop button as static appears on the screen. He gets up and walks back over toward the desk and sits down on the corner. He looks toward the ceiling where a security camera continues to monitor the events.

ADLER: You know, Triple X, I don't have a great many regrets with respect to my career. I've done pretty much what I've wanted to do... and I've never made any bones about the fact that I put more thought into doing it than just about any man in the history of this industry. But, of course, there have been a few matches that if I could take them back, I would.. and that match there is certainly one of 'em. Because it was the night I let a federation beat me. And, make no mistake... it was the federation that beat me... not Scott Watters.

Now, what does that have to do with you? In most ways, nothing. For the most part, you just happen to be the man holding something I should have never let go. But, on the other hand, it has to do with the fact that somebody pissed me off. On more than one occasion since I've been back here, a certain little woman has taken it upon herself to intervene in my match. The first time cost me that match... the second may well have.

Now, I coulda come out here and challenged Eli to a match. After all, it's a pretty safe bet that he's far more important to Ivy than you are. And, rest assured, somewhere along the way, our pathes will cross again. But, unfortunately for you, I didn't. No, not because I think you're an easier target than Eli. While that may or may not be true, it's not the way I opperate. No, I picked you because doing so kills several birds with one stone. It puts something back around my waist that I should have never let go to begin with. It serves to annoy Ivy by taking something that, quite frankly, means more to her than you do... a championship... and, perhaps more importantly, serves as a reminder to a few individuals around here that the only thing that changes in this sport are the names.

No, there's nothing new about the new era that seems to want to usher itself in to the CSWA. When it all gets sorted through, what you realize is that it's still two men, four ropes, and a mat.

I'm about to reclaim my spot in this sport. And, I intend to start with you. That belt is coming back where it belongs. And you? Well, you get to see how much Ivy cares once you don't have it.

Adler slaps the dust off of his pants as he stands up. He flicks the power button on the remote and tosses it over onto the sofa, kicking up another small cloud of dust in the process.

The scene goes to black as he reaches over and turns out the light
 

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