BLACK DAWN: Cage Match - Stalker vs. Ice Tre
- Thread starter DBrunkGXW
- Start date
Stalker
I stalk, because I care
- Joined
- May 2, 2007
- Messages
- 894
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- Age
- 41
A deal
Stalker: Well look at what we have here.
(Camera opens up to a blade, a blade of a box cutter. There is a slight bit of blood dried on the cutting edge of it, blood that came from Caitlyn Daymon's face not too long ago. The camera zooms back out and focuses in on Jason Reeves. Sitting back in a chair with his ragged hair laying in front of his face, wife beater shirt on that looks like it hasn't been washed in weeks and a grin on his face that could make little girl's hide behind their parents.)
Stalker: Now the question is, how could I possibly go that far, do what I did and still be with Empire Pro Wrestling. The answer is simple, I am the biggest draw this company has had since Lindsay Troy first won the belt. I am not the good guy, the decent guy, or even the one who you quietly cheer for to succeed. I am the one that you all hate, despise, throw garbage at and wish that your child never turns into. What's even better about all of that? Is that YOU PEOPLE ARE THE ONES THAT MADE ME THIS WAY.
(Jason lets out a loud growl as he stares daggers into the camera, retracting and extending the blade as he does.)
Stalker: And to top it off, you boo me. It's a joke, but one i've dealt with for many many years. Now after all that I have done what happens next you ask? Well I get to watch up close and personal, Sean Stevens take Rocko's dream of winning the Empire Pro World title and SHOVE IT DOWN HIS THROAT! It will be a great site indeed, one that I will have to sit back in the front row and watch first hand. I wonder if Caitlyn will be there to support him.
(His grin reappears this time as he contemplates the pain that he has caused the Daymon family thus far.)
Stalker: It's extremely tempting to just continue on and gloat about how happy I am with what i've done but there is an important matter I must address. A matter that concerns someone who wins by luck and nothing else. A punk with no skills and even less brains. That punk is none other then the crowd's favorite.... ICE TRE. I honestly was caught by surprise when that idiot decided he was going to come out and actually lay down a challenge to me. He has absolutely no clue what it means to step into a cage with me, NO CLUE WHAT SO EVER! Does it really matter, now? No. Should he be concerned for his safety and the safety of his 'stolen' crown? You better damn believe it. He fell off the top of the cage because his fake bling broke..... ****ING PATHETIC. He has no business claiming something he didn't truly win. Hell that stupid ***** thinks he's the true number one contendor. Been smoking too much crack if you ask me.
(Still playing with the box cutter, Jason runs his hand through his hair and lets out a deep sigh.)
Stalker: Delroy told me from day one since I came to EPW that ICE TRE was a fake, punk ass, white boy trying to act like he was from the streets. He has no idea what street toughness even means. I WAS ****ING HOMELESS *****, try that on for size. I don't care how you talk, how you walk, or even care that many consider you one of the best up and comers in this industry. You are done for at Black Dawn. Your punk ass mouth ran you into me and you will pay dearly for EVEN THINKING you had a ****ing place to open your mouth at me. I've been through wars in that ring that would make you cry at night ten years later even thinking about it. Look at my face, look at it and you tell me that I am lying. LOOK AT IT!
(Leaning in closer to the camera you can see his face, riddled with scars from past battles, it's not pretty.)
Stalker: You are stepping into a world, ICE TRE, a world where these scars on my face are common place. I am giving you one chance, right here and right now, give up. Just give the crown to me and we'll call it even. I know you don't want to look like me, but if you refuse my offer, you will. Don't think that stepping into my world will be something you can easily undo, ask the ones here who have already. They'll tell you the same thing. And if you want a really touching story about it, ask Caitlyn. You'll never be the same again, Tre, so accept my deal before it's off the table.... or face MY WORLD.
(The blood covered box cutter is zoomed on to by the camera and the scenes fades to black.)
Stalker: Well look at what we have here.
(Camera opens up to a blade, a blade of a box cutter. There is a slight bit of blood dried on the cutting edge of it, blood that came from Caitlyn Daymon's face not too long ago. The camera zooms back out and focuses in on Jason Reeves. Sitting back in a chair with his ragged hair laying in front of his face, wife beater shirt on that looks like it hasn't been washed in weeks and a grin on his face that could make little girl's hide behind their parents.)
Stalker: Now the question is, how could I possibly go that far, do what I did and still be with Empire Pro Wrestling. The answer is simple, I am the biggest draw this company has had since Lindsay Troy first won the belt. I am not the good guy, the decent guy, or even the one who you quietly cheer for to succeed. I am the one that you all hate, despise, throw garbage at and wish that your child never turns into. What's even better about all of that? Is that YOU PEOPLE ARE THE ONES THAT MADE ME THIS WAY.
(Jason lets out a loud growl as he stares daggers into the camera, retracting and extending the blade as he does.)
Stalker: And to top it off, you boo me. It's a joke, but one i've dealt with for many many years. Now after all that I have done what happens next you ask? Well I get to watch up close and personal, Sean Stevens take Rocko's dream of winning the Empire Pro World title and SHOVE IT DOWN HIS THROAT! It will be a great site indeed, one that I will have to sit back in the front row and watch first hand. I wonder if Caitlyn will be there to support him.
(His grin reappears this time as he contemplates the pain that he has caused the Daymon family thus far.)
Stalker: It's extremely tempting to just continue on and gloat about how happy I am with what i've done but there is an important matter I must address. A matter that concerns someone who wins by luck and nothing else. A punk with no skills and even less brains. That punk is none other then the crowd's favorite.... ICE TRE. I honestly was caught by surprise when that idiot decided he was going to come out and actually lay down a challenge to me. He has absolutely no clue what it means to step into a cage with me, NO CLUE WHAT SO EVER! Does it really matter, now? No. Should he be concerned for his safety and the safety of his 'stolen' crown? You better damn believe it. He fell off the top of the cage because his fake bling broke..... ****ING PATHETIC. He has no business claiming something he didn't truly win. Hell that stupid ***** thinks he's the true number one contendor. Been smoking too much crack if you ask me.
(Still playing with the box cutter, Jason runs his hand through his hair and lets out a deep sigh.)
Stalker: Delroy told me from day one since I came to EPW that ICE TRE was a fake, punk ass, white boy trying to act like he was from the streets. He has no idea what street toughness even means. I WAS ****ING HOMELESS *****, try that on for size. I don't care how you talk, how you walk, or even care that many consider you one of the best up and comers in this industry. You are done for at Black Dawn. Your punk ass mouth ran you into me and you will pay dearly for EVEN THINKING you had a ****ing place to open your mouth at me. I've been through wars in that ring that would make you cry at night ten years later even thinking about it. Look at my face, look at it and you tell me that I am lying. LOOK AT IT!
(Leaning in closer to the camera you can see his face, riddled with scars from past battles, it's not pretty.)
Stalker: You are stepping into a world, ICE TRE, a world where these scars on my face are common place. I am giving you one chance, right here and right now, give up. Just give the crown to me and we'll call it even. I know you don't want to look like me, but if you refuse my offer, you will. Don't think that stepping into my world will be something you can easily undo, ask the ones here who have already. They'll tell you the same thing. And if you want a really touching story about it, ask Caitlyn. You'll never be the same again, Tre, so accept my deal before it's off the table.... or face MY WORLD.
(The blood covered box cutter is zoomed on to by the camera and the scenes fades to black.)
t r e
New member
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- saratoga springs, new york
- Website
- www.paulbrisbin.com
You Weak.
FADEIN: A crudely constructed "ghetto" set. We are not yet set to "roll tape", and yet ...
Sensing the unfolding tension playing out before him, the cameraman, unprompted, begins recording early -- capturing the interplay. One is animated and angry, the other is detatched yet amused. The first has his voiced raised in frustration, the second remains silent, smug.
CASSIDY: --not a joke, Tre! This is serious and you KNOW it! You hired me to act as your business representative over a year ago. You hounded me, harassed me, BERATED me until I finally and against my better judgment AGREED to help you build a REAL career! I got you a try-out with Empire Pro and successfully negotiated your extension--
Tre snapped his shades off.
ICE TRE: Like me and my natural 'bility had NOTHIN' to do wit that?!?
CASSIDY: I got you on-board Team EPW for the Dupree Memorial--
ICE TRE: --they WANTED me, homie!
Cass shook his head, running a hand through his thinning hair.
CASSIDY: I secured you a one-shot appearance for PRIME in the Dual Halo match--
ICE TRE: Oh yeah, that...
Stewart nodded his head, brow tight with exhaustion.
CASSIDY: Yes, That. It was in the contract, Tre; You were obligated to cut ONE PROMO. Just ONE to promote the match!
ICE TRE: I been BUSY, G!
CASSIDY: --you skipped out on the shoot and now? Now I don't even know if they'll let you in the match!
Tre brushed it off.
ICE TRE: S'all good.
CASSIDY: You could be SUED, Tre! ... And now I hear you VOLUNTEERED yourself for TEAM's '08 Invitational?
Tre bristled, re-applying his shades.
ICE TRE: I got an Invitation.
CASSIDY: And I DECLINED IT, on YOUR behalf.
Tre rose from the turned-over trashcan he'd been seated on. Attempting to intimidate Cassidy, Tre squared his bony shoulders.
ICE TRE: And I flipped the script. Called 'em up and told 'em I'd BE there. Sign a brother up.
CASSIDY: And now you've taken it upon yourself to challenge STALKER to a CAGE MATCH? Tre, I had you lined up for a slot in that 4-way match for the EPW TV belt at Black Dawn. You threw that away when you interrupted that psycho's mic-time at Aggression!
ICE TRE: The TV belt ain't NOTHIN'! Who wants to be the Champion of Televisionz? Nah, that ain't me. I live hard and I bring the streetz. I'm the K'ang of the Cage, Stalker is just a Talker. Them'z be the factz, yo. Here's one MO' fact; I don't NEED you, Cassanova.
The uncomfortable silence was brief and passed without incident. Cass took a moment, stepping away in thought, before turning back to his client, his hands thrust in his pants pockets.
CASSIDY: I realize, Tre, that you and I haven't had the best relationship since I--
ICE TRE: Since you stepped up in my bid'niss, started diggin' in my past! Sh_t be buried for a reason, Cassanova. You don't wanna know about me. You don't wanna know where I'm from. Where I been an' what I seen. You making decisions everyday that have a DIRECTIFIABLE IMPACT on my bank account, ya dig? You wanna SPEAK for me? I need to TRUST you.
Cassidy clenched his fists.
CASSIDY: For me to trust you, Tre ... I need to know you, and I need to know everything.
Tre takes a step back, startled.
ICE TRE: Don't try goin' all "Broke Back" on a player!
Cass sighed, glancing at the camera-crew at the ready, suddenly self-conscious.
CASSIDY: Listen; we'll discuss this later. Cut this promo. I don't need ANOTHER potential lawsuit on our hands.
Tre settled back on the turned-over trashcan, shades back on and facing the camera.
ICE TRE: Step off, fool. I'll holla when I holla.
Cassidy just nodded his head, finally spotting the red-light blazing on the camera and stepping out of the shot.
- ---- -- ---- - ---- --------- ---- - ---- -- ---- -
ICE TRE: Microphone check. Check, One. Ungghn. Two, Check.
Wearing his hip, fresh, new "It's Good To Be K'ang!" t-shirt and sagging khakis, Ice Tre chose to ride light on this day. He wore just a single chain, a single, obscenely large pendant/medallion:
A crown with the letters 'T R E' written in genuine (wink, wink) diamonds.
ICE TRE: You one crazy sum'*****, Stalker. I ain't gon' play. You just get so ... so HYPE! So out of control! It's ... it's CRAZY! You a special case, Stalker. You unique in this bid'niss. You a CONSTANT, Stalker.
The camera slowly zoomed to his face, Tre adjusted his thick sunglasses as he spoke.
ICE TRE: Every few weeks, you do something ... "crazy" ... and err'body acts like you've never been crazier... like NOW you've been pushed over the edge, past da point of no return. NOW you've snapped. But, see ... I grew up around this bid'niss, and I know your story. I seen your up's and down's in SCW. I think I remember you being unmemorable in TCW. And didn't you run some two-bit, low-rent promotion that no one admits to being associated with? You a OPEN BOOK, Jay. You have never changed. You been bragging 'bout those same scars, it seems, since the day you stepped into the ring. You been swinging stop signs, trash cans, box cutters and dildos since the dawn of time!
Tre pops what little collar his NEW t-shirt has with a flourish.
ICE TRE: Some people grow as performers, some evolve an' sh_t. Not you though, eh? You DIFFERENT. To a fault. You ain't changed for NOTHIN'. And it hasn't got you anywhere. You say you're the top draw in EPW? Come ON, now. You crazy, but you can't be THAT crazy! Even YOU gotta realize the way you've managed to stick around this long with what little charisma and in-ring SWAGGER you bringin'. The ONLY reason you ever drew a dime is because of who was opposite yo' name on da marquee. PERIOD. You been "crazy" enough, all along, to attach yourself wit' who you think you gotta. To BEEF wit' the top peoples ... to TEAM UP wit' the right peoples. You don't know how to take it to the next level, not on yo' own. You never figured out how to stake your OWN claim. Make your OWN path. Set yourself apart without forcing yourself down everyone's throat. Without being a pest. Cock roaches get STEPPED on, G. You was homeless, right? Then act like ya know.
Panning back, we see that this isn't a "ghetto" set at all, but an actual, honest-to-goodness alleyway. Tre stands, hands "stacking" away.
ICE TRE: You say you coming for my crown. Lookin' to collect on a Bounty. Lookin' to finish a job that the EPW World Champion, 'Triple X' Sean Stevens, was NOT MAN ENOUGH to FINISH! Playin' the role of his little lapdog, his little *****!
Tre does a (weak) dual Triple X/Stalker impression.
ICE TRE: "Go get me my crown, Stalker!" Ok! "Take out the only man in this promotion that can BEAT me!" Ok! "Wipe my sh_tty ass!" You got it!
Chuckling, Tre absently plays with his crown-medallion.
ICE TRE: You just don't see that, as usual, you just a pawn. A place holder. You tell me I'm stepping into YOUR world. And I'll tell you I BEEN there. Homie braggin' bout being HOMELESS? Who HASN'T been homeless at LEAST twice in they life?!? This is AMERICA, son!
It's the economy, stupid!
ICE TRE: I'm the UNDISPUTIATED KING of the STEEL CAGE MATCH. In Empre Pro and across the world. Internationally known, locally respected -- Ice Tre; the Pimp. Only ONE of us was ranked in the FW Top 20. Only ONE of us is certified ROYALTY. Only ONE of us can lay ANY claim to that Number One Contender Spot. Only ONE, Stalker, can stroll outta Black Dawn with the crown. I, personally-speaking, think it's gon' be me. You probably have a different opinion. You probably have all kinds of "sadistic and insane" things in mind for me. I'm telling you to bring what you got. I'm telling you to BE YOU. I'mma be me. SELF-MADE.
Tre smirks.
ICE TRE: Not like YOU, right? You say you're the product of the fans? Of society? Man, you may be HARD on the outside ... but you SOFT than a maw'fugga on the INSIDE, ain't you? The kids tease you in school? Waaaaa. Picked last in gym class? Waaaaa. Mommy and Daddy didn't love you? They hit you? They touch you? Waaaaa. Poor, Crazy, Homeless, Underacheiver, Stalker. A REAL man, a REAL product of the Streetz adapts to EVERY situMAYtion. A REAL soldier GETS HIS when a fool gets over on him. A REAL player flosses on ERR'BODY and AYY'BODY that STEPS to 'em. You WEAK, Stalker. WEAK where it counts. You blame err'body else fo' YO' problems, YO' short-comings, YO' flaws. Not Ice Tre. Always REAL. Always on the TRUE and FACTUAL tip. Maybe that anger you reppin' come from that insecurity you had when you was a kid, yo. Move on from that, G. Own it and GROW.
The smirk smears across his face.
ICE TRE: Dr. Phil is my *****, son.
Tre begins to walk down the alley, the camera trailing behind him.
ICE TRE: And I wanna respond to one of your childhood resentment-fueled comments about Ice Tre, quote, "smoking crack". *****, please. Goes to show just how much you know about street life. I may've SLANGED some rock in my dizz-ay ... but Rule Number One, Reeves. Never Use Yo' Product. If I'm in the hustle, I'm grindin' to clock my grip, ya heard me? I ain't gettin' cloudy on a sunny day, nah'mean? Maybe you'z just PROJECTIFYIN' yo'self on ME an' sh_t. Never me, G. I ain't weak.
Tre stops just where the alley meets the street, turning one last time to the camera.
ICE TRE: I ain't you. And, oh yeah .... no deal.
Snap. FADEOUT, again.
FADEIN: A crudely constructed "ghetto" set. We are not yet set to "roll tape", and yet ...
Sensing the unfolding tension playing out before him, the cameraman, unprompted, begins recording early -- capturing the interplay. One is animated and angry, the other is detatched yet amused. The first has his voiced raised in frustration, the second remains silent, smug.
CASSIDY: --not a joke, Tre! This is serious and you KNOW it! You hired me to act as your business representative over a year ago. You hounded me, harassed me, BERATED me until I finally and against my better judgment AGREED to help you build a REAL career! I got you a try-out with Empire Pro and successfully negotiated your extension--
Tre snapped his shades off.
ICE TRE: Like me and my natural 'bility had NOTHIN' to do wit that?!?
CASSIDY: I got you on-board Team EPW for the Dupree Memorial--
ICE TRE: --they WANTED me, homie!
Cass shook his head, running a hand through his thinning hair.
CASSIDY: I secured you a one-shot appearance for PRIME in the Dual Halo match--
ICE TRE: Oh yeah, that...
Stewart nodded his head, brow tight with exhaustion.
CASSIDY: Yes, That. It was in the contract, Tre; You were obligated to cut ONE PROMO. Just ONE to promote the match!
ICE TRE: I been BUSY, G!
CASSIDY: --you skipped out on the shoot and now? Now I don't even know if they'll let you in the match!
Tre brushed it off.
ICE TRE: S'all good.
CASSIDY: You could be SUED, Tre! ... And now I hear you VOLUNTEERED yourself for TEAM's '08 Invitational?
Tre bristled, re-applying his shades.
ICE TRE: I got an Invitation.
CASSIDY: And I DECLINED IT, on YOUR behalf.
Tre rose from the turned-over trashcan he'd been seated on. Attempting to intimidate Cassidy, Tre squared his bony shoulders.
ICE TRE: And I flipped the script. Called 'em up and told 'em I'd BE there. Sign a brother up.
CASSIDY: And now you've taken it upon yourself to challenge STALKER to a CAGE MATCH? Tre, I had you lined up for a slot in that 4-way match for the EPW TV belt at Black Dawn. You threw that away when you interrupted that psycho's mic-time at Aggression!
ICE TRE: The TV belt ain't NOTHIN'! Who wants to be the Champion of Televisionz? Nah, that ain't me. I live hard and I bring the streetz. I'm the K'ang of the Cage, Stalker is just a Talker. Them'z be the factz, yo. Here's one MO' fact; I don't NEED you, Cassanova.
The uncomfortable silence was brief and passed without incident. Cass took a moment, stepping away in thought, before turning back to his client, his hands thrust in his pants pockets.
CASSIDY: I realize, Tre, that you and I haven't had the best relationship since I--
ICE TRE: Since you stepped up in my bid'niss, started diggin' in my past! Sh_t be buried for a reason, Cassanova. You don't wanna know about me. You don't wanna know where I'm from. Where I been an' what I seen. You making decisions everyday that have a DIRECTIFIABLE IMPACT on my bank account, ya dig? You wanna SPEAK for me? I need to TRUST you.
Cassidy clenched his fists.
CASSIDY: For me to trust you, Tre ... I need to know you, and I need to know everything.
Tre takes a step back, startled.
ICE TRE: Don't try goin' all "Broke Back" on a player!
Cass sighed, glancing at the camera-crew at the ready, suddenly self-conscious.
CASSIDY: Listen; we'll discuss this later. Cut this promo. I don't need ANOTHER potential lawsuit on our hands.
Tre settled back on the turned-over trashcan, shades back on and facing the camera.
ICE TRE: Step off, fool. I'll holla when I holla.
Cassidy just nodded his head, finally spotting the red-light blazing on the camera and stepping out of the shot.
- ---- -- ---- - ---- --------- ---- - ---- -- ---- -
ICE TRE: Microphone check. Check, One. Ungghn. Two, Check.
Wearing his hip, fresh, new "It's Good To Be K'ang!" t-shirt and sagging khakis, Ice Tre chose to ride light on this day. He wore just a single chain, a single, obscenely large pendant/medallion:
A crown with the letters 'T R E' written in genuine (wink, wink) diamonds.
ICE TRE: You one crazy sum'*****, Stalker. I ain't gon' play. You just get so ... so HYPE! So out of control! It's ... it's CRAZY! You a special case, Stalker. You unique in this bid'niss. You a CONSTANT, Stalker.
The camera slowly zoomed to his face, Tre adjusted his thick sunglasses as he spoke.
ICE TRE: Every few weeks, you do something ... "crazy" ... and err'body acts like you've never been crazier... like NOW you've been pushed over the edge, past da point of no return. NOW you've snapped. But, see ... I grew up around this bid'niss, and I know your story. I seen your up's and down's in SCW. I think I remember you being unmemorable in TCW. And didn't you run some two-bit, low-rent promotion that no one admits to being associated with? You a OPEN BOOK, Jay. You have never changed. You been bragging 'bout those same scars, it seems, since the day you stepped into the ring. You been swinging stop signs, trash cans, box cutters and dildos since the dawn of time!
Tre pops what little collar his NEW t-shirt has with a flourish.
ICE TRE: Some people grow as performers, some evolve an' sh_t. Not you though, eh? You DIFFERENT. To a fault. You ain't changed for NOTHIN'. And it hasn't got you anywhere. You say you're the top draw in EPW? Come ON, now. You crazy, but you can't be THAT crazy! Even YOU gotta realize the way you've managed to stick around this long with what little charisma and in-ring SWAGGER you bringin'. The ONLY reason you ever drew a dime is because of who was opposite yo' name on da marquee. PERIOD. You been "crazy" enough, all along, to attach yourself wit' who you think you gotta. To BEEF wit' the top peoples ... to TEAM UP wit' the right peoples. You don't know how to take it to the next level, not on yo' own. You never figured out how to stake your OWN claim. Make your OWN path. Set yourself apart without forcing yourself down everyone's throat. Without being a pest. Cock roaches get STEPPED on, G. You was homeless, right? Then act like ya know.
Panning back, we see that this isn't a "ghetto" set at all, but an actual, honest-to-goodness alleyway. Tre stands, hands "stacking" away.
ICE TRE: You say you coming for my crown. Lookin' to collect on a Bounty. Lookin' to finish a job that the EPW World Champion, 'Triple X' Sean Stevens, was NOT MAN ENOUGH to FINISH! Playin' the role of his little lapdog, his little *****!
Tre does a (weak) dual Triple X/Stalker impression.
ICE TRE: "Go get me my crown, Stalker!" Ok! "Take out the only man in this promotion that can BEAT me!" Ok! "Wipe my sh_tty ass!" You got it!
Chuckling, Tre absently plays with his crown-medallion.
ICE TRE: You just don't see that, as usual, you just a pawn. A place holder. You tell me I'm stepping into YOUR world. And I'll tell you I BEEN there. Homie braggin' bout being HOMELESS? Who HASN'T been homeless at LEAST twice in they life?!? This is AMERICA, son!
It's the economy, stupid!
ICE TRE: I'm the UNDISPUTIATED KING of the STEEL CAGE MATCH. In Empre Pro and across the world. Internationally known, locally respected -- Ice Tre; the Pimp. Only ONE of us was ranked in the FW Top 20. Only ONE of us is certified ROYALTY. Only ONE of us can lay ANY claim to that Number One Contender Spot. Only ONE, Stalker, can stroll outta Black Dawn with the crown. I, personally-speaking, think it's gon' be me. You probably have a different opinion. You probably have all kinds of "sadistic and insane" things in mind for me. I'm telling you to bring what you got. I'm telling you to BE YOU. I'mma be me. SELF-MADE.
Tre smirks.
ICE TRE: Not like YOU, right? You say you're the product of the fans? Of society? Man, you may be HARD on the outside ... but you SOFT than a maw'fugga on the INSIDE, ain't you? The kids tease you in school? Waaaaa. Picked last in gym class? Waaaaa. Mommy and Daddy didn't love you? They hit you? They touch you? Waaaaa. Poor, Crazy, Homeless, Underacheiver, Stalker. A REAL man, a REAL product of the Streetz adapts to EVERY situMAYtion. A REAL soldier GETS HIS when a fool gets over on him. A REAL player flosses on ERR'BODY and AYY'BODY that STEPS to 'em. You WEAK, Stalker. WEAK where it counts. You blame err'body else fo' YO' problems, YO' short-comings, YO' flaws. Not Ice Tre. Always REAL. Always on the TRUE and FACTUAL tip. Maybe that anger you reppin' come from that insecurity you had when you was a kid, yo. Move on from that, G. Own it and GROW.
The smirk smears across his face.
ICE TRE: Dr. Phil is my *****, son.
Tre begins to walk down the alley, the camera trailing behind him.
ICE TRE: And I wanna respond to one of your childhood resentment-fueled comments about Ice Tre, quote, "smoking crack". *****, please. Goes to show just how much you know about street life. I may've SLANGED some rock in my dizz-ay ... but Rule Number One, Reeves. Never Use Yo' Product. If I'm in the hustle, I'm grindin' to clock my grip, ya heard me? I ain't gettin' cloudy on a sunny day, nah'mean? Maybe you'z just PROJECTIFYIN' yo'self on ME an' sh_t. Never me, G. I ain't weak.
Tre stops just where the alley meets the street, turning one last time to the camera.
ICE TRE: I ain't you. And, oh yeah .... no deal.
Snap. FADEOUT, again.
Stalker
I stalk, because I care
- Joined
- May 2, 2007
- Messages
- 894
- Points
- 18
- Age
- 41
No idea
Stalker: Your words get you into more trouble then Kin Hiroshi.
(Scene fades in to Jason Reeves walking slowly down a dark alley. He's dressed in his usual attire of baggy shorts and wife beater shirt that's cover by a flannel button up. Jason facing away from the camera as he walks down the alley runs his hand through his messy hair. Stopping for a moment he looks around him, down at the ground, up at the sky and shakes his head.)
Stalker: No one... absolutely no one that would dress, speak and act the way you do would EVER know anything about this right here. You are a fake kid. Simply fake.
(Jason walks forward a bit more the camera slowly following him, he stops for a moment and pulls out a smoke from his shirt pocket. Sitting down on the grungy concrete and leaning against a dumpster he lights it. Staring into the camera now, his face covered in shadow, he blows out a pillar of smoke.)
Stalker: I hate fakers. I hate you. I hate what you represent. You pop the collar of your shirt like your hard but you have no idea what hard even is. You say that everyone's been homeless twice in their life, well it only happened to me once and while I was on the streets you were in the suburbs trying to be cool in the basement of your parent's house smoking weed. DON'T you ****ing dare question me when I say your way of acting makes you look like you are smoking ROCK. Ask the people around you, moron. You are white, bottom line, if you need me to clarify why I am telling you this then you are on crack. Just one time, ONE TIME, I would like to see you, scratch that, HEAR YOU speak like a normal person. JUST ONCE. Is that really something that's too much to ask?
(Taking another drag off his cig, Jason stares up into the night sky, shaking his head as he blows out another pillar of smoke.)
Stalker: I'm getting into the mode now, you should know what mode that is Tre. You followed my career, right? The way you speak to me is, well, it's ****ing disrespectful. I WAS WORLD CHAMPION WHEN YOU WERE IN ****ING HIGH SCHOOL KID! You say that I attach myself to the people I need to, to get where I want to be? Are you ****ing serious? If you knew a damn thing about me, you would know I took on EVERYONE, EVERYWHERE, ANY ****ING TIME. AND I MADE EACH AND EVERYONE OF THEM REGRET CHALLENGING ME!!!!!!!
(Slamming his fist into the dumpster a loud echo can be heard going down the alley.)
Stalker: Sick of it. Tre... EVERYTHING. IM ****ING SICK OF IT. I've put so much of my body, my mind, my will on the line everytime I step into a wrestling arena, that NOWHERE should a punk ass WANNABE like yourself, ever have the RIGHT to come out and question me. I let Kin get away with that and it was my own mistake, I took it too far and it bit me in the ass, but it hasn't happened since and it won't ever again. Your body, soul and mind will belong to me at Black Dawn. When you step into that cage with me, there will be no superkicking you out the door, no letting you fall because your fake ass bling breaks. You aren't going to get a lucky break from me. Not this time. I am going to break you into pieces and smile as I do it. Everything that you've stated to me means nothing, Tre. You've never been in the ring with me, EVER. You have no idea what you are in store for. Bottom line is, kid, seriously WAKE UP.
(Jason stands up, looks back down the alley and then back at the camera.)
Stalker: You'll never know what the streets were like for a real person, like me. If you did you wouldn't talk so easily about them like they meant nothing. Just like you wouldn't push me off to the side as if I mean nothing. Just wait, kid, just wait. At Black Dawn, my world will become your reality.
(Fade to black.)
Stalker: Your words get you into more trouble then Kin Hiroshi.
(Scene fades in to Jason Reeves walking slowly down a dark alley. He's dressed in his usual attire of baggy shorts and wife beater shirt that's cover by a flannel button up. Jason facing away from the camera as he walks down the alley runs his hand through his messy hair. Stopping for a moment he looks around him, down at the ground, up at the sky and shakes his head.)
Stalker: No one... absolutely no one that would dress, speak and act the way you do would EVER know anything about this right here. You are a fake kid. Simply fake.
(Jason walks forward a bit more the camera slowly following him, he stops for a moment and pulls out a smoke from his shirt pocket. Sitting down on the grungy concrete and leaning against a dumpster he lights it. Staring into the camera now, his face covered in shadow, he blows out a pillar of smoke.)
Stalker: I hate fakers. I hate you. I hate what you represent. You pop the collar of your shirt like your hard but you have no idea what hard even is. You say that everyone's been homeless twice in their life, well it only happened to me once and while I was on the streets you were in the suburbs trying to be cool in the basement of your parent's house smoking weed. DON'T you ****ing dare question me when I say your way of acting makes you look like you are smoking ROCK. Ask the people around you, moron. You are white, bottom line, if you need me to clarify why I am telling you this then you are on crack. Just one time, ONE TIME, I would like to see you, scratch that, HEAR YOU speak like a normal person. JUST ONCE. Is that really something that's too much to ask?
(Taking another drag off his cig, Jason stares up into the night sky, shaking his head as he blows out another pillar of smoke.)
Stalker: I'm getting into the mode now, you should know what mode that is Tre. You followed my career, right? The way you speak to me is, well, it's ****ing disrespectful. I WAS WORLD CHAMPION WHEN YOU WERE IN ****ING HIGH SCHOOL KID! You say that I attach myself to the people I need to, to get where I want to be? Are you ****ing serious? If you knew a damn thing about me, you would know I took on EVERYONE, EVERYWHERE, ANY ****ING TIME. AND I MADE EACH AND EVERYONE OF THEM REGRET CHALLENGING ME!!!!!!!
(Slamming his fist into the dumpster a loud echo can be heard going down the alley.)
Stalker: Sick of it. Tre... EVERYTHING. IM ****ING SICK OF IT. I've put so much of my body, my mind, my will on the line everytime I step into a wrestling arena, that NOWHERE should a punk ass WANNABE like yourself, ever have the RIGHT to come out and question me. I let Kin get away with that and it was my own mistake, I took it too far and it bit me in the ass, but it hasn't happened since and it won't ever again. Your body, soul and mind will belong to me at Black Dawn. When you step into that cage with me, there will be no superkicking you out the door, no letting you fall because your fake ass bling breaks. You aren't going to get a lucky break from me. Not this time. I am going to break you into pieces and smile as I do it. Everything that you've stated to me means nothing, Tre. You've never been in the ring with me, EVER. You have no idea what you are in store for. Bottom line is, kid, seriously WAKE UP.
(Jason stands up, looks back down the alley and then back at the camera.)
Stalker: You'll never know what the streets were like for a real person, like me. If you did you wouldn't talk so easily about them like they meant nothing. Just like you wouldn't push me off to the side as if I mean nothing. Just wait, kid, just wait. At Black Dawn, my world will become your reality.
(Fade to black.)
t r e
New member
- Joined
- Dec 15, 2006
- Messages
- 234
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 45
- Location
- saratoga springs, new york
- Website
- www.paulbrisbin.com
Droppin' Knowledge. Droppin' Loads.
FADEIN: We ride shotgun in Ice Tre's drop-top, fire-engine red, custom sports car. It's a beautiful spring day on the streets.
ICE TRE: Try'n to catch me ridin' dirty... Try'n to catch me ridin' dirty...
Tre's seat is laid back as far as it can go, one arm draped up on the wheel lazily as he weaves through the congested afternoon San Diego traffic. Wearing a surprisingly light pair of soft-tinted sunglasses, a cock-eyed red sweat-band and his 'Team EPW' Captain's jersey. His ice is gleaming, his grill is pronounced, and the confidence is flowing. He takes a hard right -- (no turn signal = Gangster) -- and glances at the camera.
ICE TRE: S'appnin', baby?
Another stiff turn, this one a left down a narrow alleyway.
ICE TRE: T - R - E all up in your area! Whatchu gon' DO? Whatchu gon' DO? ... NOTHIN'! The fastest-rising star in the sky, the epitome of FLY -- it's Your Boy, Ice Tre. Top dog in this pound. H - N - I - C, ya dig? Here to do what I do best, yo.
Tre smiles, taking a rare moment to check his rear-view.
ICE TRE: I be DROPPIN' KNOWLEDGE. Droppin' LOADS on *****ez and clarifyin' the snitchez, know'm'sayin'? STALKER! where you AT? Are you even TRYIN' anymore, son? Do you have ANYTHING new to say?
Tre looks at the camera, still driving about 35-40 mph, holding up one hand at a certain level.
ICE TRE: I'm tryin' to take us here ...
His other hand comes off the wheel. He holds it up, at a much lower level than the first.
ICE TRE: You wanna stay right here.
Finally (and much to the satisfaction of the accompanying cameraman), Tre regains full control of the vehicle.
ICE TRE: Come WIT' me, Stalker. Raise the bar. You cuttin' the same old promo, with the same old threats and posturifyin' as always. Step out yo' damn BOX, cardboard as it may be. You telling me I was in a basement when you was homeless. Nah, son. I was already here, GRINDIN', HUSTLIN', already makin' waves in Empire Pro before Delroy ever scooped you up and cashed you in like a b_tch chip. Get yo' facts straight. And while you at it? Get yo' TEETF straightened too, so that at Black Dawn ... I can kick them sh_tz outta place again, nah'mean?
He chuckled, always a constant amusement to himself.
ICE TRE: Oh, I know, Stalker. NOBODY has had it worse than you. You have had a harder childhood, a tougher career, than ANYONE ELSE in this business! You are ALWAYS the victim, ain't you? ALWAYS. "The FANS made me this way! The FANS stopped buying IWF tickets and PPV's! ROCKO ruined my career! THEY SCREWED ME out of a Title Shot! Poor ME!" Always the victim, always fed-up with the system, always grumbling about something -- blaming someone. Other than you. Always castin' aspersions; I don't "brush aside the streets", like you SAY I do.
Tre gestures out the window, a speckled, speeding urban landscape.
ICE TRE: A King don't neglect his Kingdom, ya HEARD? This my home. These my PEOPLEZ. No hidin' it. No denyin' it. People, dumb like YOU, come at me all the time; Sayin' I don't TALK right. That I'm REALLY from THIS place, or THAT place. Anywhere other than HERE. The Streetz. Any Corner, USA. Say you want me to "talk normal"? Like, what ... like YOU? You want me to growl, stutter and scream like some limp-dicked, momma's-titty-deprived, has-been hardcore semi-icon? Ain't goin' down, G. And SPEAKIN' on being a Hardcore Icon, like you say...
Tre feverishly cuts off a sedan, a smirk on his face that tells you that what comes next has been on his mind.
ICE TRE: You tout your reign as SCW Champion like your reign was impressive. It wasn't. You rant, rave, scream, hoot an' HOLLA 'bout how you took ERR'BODY on! You was unstoppable! THAT WAS TEN YEARS AGO, G! Maybe ten years ago, you might be CONSIDERED a Top Contender. Maybe ten years ago, you might've been ranked in the FW Top 20. Maybe ten years ago, you could beat one of the "best" like Sean Stevens--
He shrugs.
ICE TRE: Well ... ten years ago ... who COULDN'T?
Folding his arms across his chest, Tre shifts his not-so-much weight in the seat, seemingly steering with his knees.
ICE TRE: But that's kinda my point, Stalker. Times have changed. You haven't. Gon' and make RACE an' issue. Talkin' 'bout MY SKIN TONE. That's always good. Man, this be an election year an' sh_t. I ain't even gon' go there. I'mma be like you; I'mma completely ignore what MIGHT be considered a decent point, ya know ... Totally disregard what you said.
Heh.
ICE TRE: You ain't the first to underestimate me, Stalker. I'm The Most Resiliant Athelete This Sport Has Ever Known. I am like no one you have ever faced. I am a Danger to Myself and Others, nah'm'sayin'? But facts iz factz and trutf be trutf. I am, today, a superior wrestler when compared to you. I rock a better win/loss ratio. I've had bigger matches than you have. And, to be BLUNT, Ice Tre is livin' life BIGGER, and BETTER, than you in EVERY respect. I'm not just goin' to BEAT you at Black Dawn, Stalker. I'mma HUMILIATE YOU. I'mma make a point to SHOW YOU WHY I get all my accolades. I'mma go out of my way to SHOW YOU what a TOP PERFORMER in 2008 LOOKS LIKE. Up close. Personal. Because I want to HELP you, man. You say you from where I'm from? Then I'mma help you out. Ice Tre, your Royal HIGHNESS, the K'ang of the Streetz, the CAGE, and Captain of Empire Pro ... is going to take an evening out his VALUABLE time to SAVE you, Stalker.
Camera cuts to a closer shot of Tre's face, his eyes steely through the lenses.
ICE TRE: Grow or die, Reeves. Change wit' the times or they gon' change wit'out you. Da theory of evolution, natural selection ... all about Survival of Da Fittest. While it's true that you survived THIS long, you ain't adapted to da conditions around you. You don't run thangs like you used to. You chose NOT to evolve, so da industry went along and moved wit'out you. At Black Dawn, you've got a chance to rewrite yo' legacy. Can you match-up with The Next Big Thang Himself? Can you HACK it against the NEW STANDARD? Grow or die, G. Lucky for me; I'm a GROWER, not a shower. So I guess dat means YOU gon' be doin' the DYIN'.
Tre absently adjusts his headband, checking it in the rear-view before coming to an abrupt stop at a red light.
ICE TRE: Black Dawn on the horizon, yo. Time is windin' down.
The red light bathing his matching red car switches to green and Tre takes off.
ICE TRE: This pimp on the RISE! Deny Me, Defy Me, DIE BY ME! ... Dat's RIGHT! You rollin' wit' Your Boy, Ice Tre. Reckonize the time fo' play has ENDED. The Tre brings SERIOUS BID'NISS! By Any Means Necessary! ... Except tickling, ya heard? Tre ain't into that.
So don't try it, Stalker. You freak. We've heard about you.
ICE TRE: Holla'tchaboy. Peace and Chickengrease. Hold it down. Unnghh.
Mercifully, we FADEOUT.
FADEIN: We ride shotgun in Ice Tre's drop-top, fire-engine red, custom sports car. It's a beautiful spring day on the streets.
ICE TRE: Try'n to catch me ridin' dirty... Try'n to catch me ridin' dirty...
Tre's seat is laid back as far as it can go, one arm draped up on the wheel lazily as he weaves through the congested afternoon San Diego traffic. Wearing a surprisingly light pair of soft-tinted sunglasses, a cock-eyed red sweat-band and his 'Team EPW' Captain's jersey. His ice is gleaming, his grill is pronounced, and the confidence is flowing. He takes a hard right -- (no turn signal = Gangster) -- and glances at the camera.
ICE TRE: S'appnin', baby?
Another stiff turn, this one a left down a narrow alleyway.
ICE TRE: T - R - E all up in your area! Whatchu gon' DO? Whatchu gon' DO? ... NOTHIN'! The fastest-rising star in the sky, the epitome of FLY -- it's Your Boy, Ice Tre. Top dog in this pound. H - N - I - C, ya dig? Here to do what I do best, yo.
Tre smiles, taking a rare moment to check his rear-view.
ICE TRE: I be DROPPIN' KNOWLEDGE. Droppin' LOADS on *****ez and clarifyin' the snitchez, know'm'sayin'? STALKER! where you AT? Are you even TRYIN' anymore, son? Do you have ANYTHING new to say?
Tre looks at the camera, still driving about 35-40 mph, holding up one hand at a certain level.
ICE TRE: I'm tryin' to take us here ...
His other hand comes off the wheel. He holds it up, at a much lower level than the first.
ICE TRE: You wanna stay right here.
Finally (and much to the satisfaction of the accompanying cameraman), Tre regains full control of the vehicle.
ICE TRE: Come WIT' me, Stalker. Raise the bar. You cuttin' the same old promo, with the same old threats and posturifyin' as always. Step out yo' damn BOX, cardboard as it may be. You telling me I was in a basement when you was homeless. Nah, son. I was already here, GRINDIN', HUSTLIN', already makin' waves in Empire Pro before Delroy ever scooped you up and cashed you in like a b_tch chip. Get yo' facts straight. And while you at it? Get yo' TEETF straightened too, so that at Black Dawn ... I can kick them sh_tz outta place again, nah'mean?
He chuckled, always a constant amusement to himself.
ICE TRE: Oh, I know, Stalker. NOBODY has had it worse than you. You have had a harder childhood, a tougher career, than ANYONE ELSE in this business! You are ALWAYS the victim, ain't you? ALWAYS. "The FANS made me this way! The FANS stopped buying IWF tickets and PPV's! ROCKO ruined my career! THEY SCREWED ME out of a Title Shot! Poor ME!" Always the victim, always fed-up with the system, always grumbling about something -- blaming someone. Other than you. Always castin' aspersions; I don't "brush aside the streets", like you SAY I do.
Tre gestures out the window, a speckled, speeding urban landscape.
ICE TRE: A King don't neglect his Kingdom, ya HEARD? This my home. These my PEOPLEZ. No hidin' it. No denyin' it. People, dumb like YOU, come at me all the time; Sayin' I don't TALK right. That I'm REALLY from THIS place, or THAT place. Anywhere other than HERE. The Streetz. Any Corner, USA. Say you want me to "talk normal"? Like, what ... like YOU? You want me to growl, stutter and scream like some limp-dicked, momma's-titty-deprived, has-been hardcore semi-icon? Ain't goin' down, G. And SPEAKIN' on being a Hardcore Icon, like you say...
Tre feverishly cuts off a sedan, a smirk on his face that tells you that what comes next has been on his mind.
ICE TRE: You tout your reign as SCW Champion like your reign was impressive. It wasn't. You rant, rave, scream, hoot an' HOLLA 'bout how you took ERR'BODY on! You was unstoppable! THAT WAS TEN YEARS AGO, G! Maybe ten years ago, you might be CONSIDERED a Top Contender. Maybe ten years ago, you might've been ranked in the FW Top 20. Maybe ten years ago, you could beat one of the "best" like Sean Stevens--
He shrugs.
ICE TRE: Well ... ten years ago ... who COULDN'T?
Folding his arms across his chest, Tre shifts his not-so-much weight in the seat, seemingly steering with his knees.
ICE TRE: But that's kinda my point, Stalker. Times have changed. You haven't. Gon' and make RACE an' issue. Talkin' 'bout MY SKIN TONE. That's always good. Man, this be an election year an' sh_t. I ain't even gon' go there. I'mma be like you; I'mma completely ignore what MIGHT be considered a decent point, ya know ... Totally disregard what you said.
Heh.
ICE TRE: You ain't the first to underestimate me, Stalker. I'm The Most Resiliant Athelete This Sport Has Ever Known. I am like no one you have ever faced. I am a Danger to Myself and Others, nah'm'sayin'? But facts iz factz and trutf be trutf. I am, today, a superior wrestler when compared to you. I rock a better win/loss ratio. I've had bigger matches than you have. And, to be BLUNT, Ice Tre is livin' life BIGGER, and BETTER, than you in EVERY respect. I'm not just goin' to BEAT you at Black Dawn, Stalker. I'mma HUMILIATE YOU. I'mma make a point to SHOW YOU WHY I get all my accolades. I'mma go out of my way to SHOW YOU what a TOP PERFORMER in 2008 LOOKS LIKE. Up close. Personal. Because I want to HELP you, man. You say you from where I'm from? Then I'mma help you out. Ice Tre, your Royal HIGHNESS, the K'ang of the Streetz, the CAGE, and Captain of Empire Pro ... is going to take an evening out his VALUABLE time to SAVE you, Stalker.
Camera cuts to a closer shot of Tre's face, his eyes steely through the lenses.
ICE TRE: Grow or die, Reeves. Change wit' the times or they gon' change wit'out you. Da theory of evolution, natural selection ... all about Survival of Da Fittest. While it's true that you survived THIS long, you ain't adapted to da conditions around you. You don't run thangs like you used to. You chose NOT to evolve, so da industry went along and moved wit'out you. At Black Dawn, you've got a chance to rewrite yo' legacy. Can you match-up with The Next Big Thang Himself? Can you HACK it against the NEW STANDARD? Grow or die, G. Lucky for me; I'm a GROWER, not a shower. So I guess dat means YOU gon' be doin' the DYIN'.
Tre absently adjusts his headband, checking it in the rear-view before coming to an abrupt stop at a red light.
ICE TRE: Black Dawn on the horizon, yo. Time is windin' down.
The red light bathing his matching red car switches to green and Tre takes off.
ICE TRE: This pimp on the RISE! Deny Me, Defy Me, DIE BY ME! ... Dat's RIGHT! You rollin' wit' Your Boy, Ice Tre. Reckonize the time fo' play has ENDED. The Tre brings SERIOUS BID'NISS! By Any Means Necessary! ... Except tickling, ya heard? Tre ain't into that.
So don't try it, Stalker. You freak. We've heard about you.
ICE TRE: Holla'tchaboy. Peace and Chickengrease. Hold it down. Unnghh.
Mercifully, we FADEOUT.
Stalker
I stalk, because I care
- Joined
- May 2, 2007
- Messages
- 894
- Points
- 18
- Age
- 41
Heap of Flames
(The scene opens up to darkness, complete, utter, black.)
Stalker: You want something different?
(Jason's voice is quiet like a whisper.)
Stalker: Something different?
(His voice louder this time has an angry tone to it.)
Stalker: I DONT DO DIFFERENT!
(The yelling was almost as bright as sunlight being ripped upon the camera lens, but it was only sound. Everything is still black and dark.)
Stalker: You talk about being resiliant? Are you ****ing kidding me? YOU WON THAT DAMN CROWN YOU SO PROUDLY SHOW OFF BY FALLING OFF THE DAMN CAGE, SON!
(Loud breathing is followed by the sudden outburst, it's dense and shallow, the breathing of an obvious smoker.)
Stalker: I don't have to evolve, Tre. I'm consistent, always there, always a pain in the side of whoever I choose. That is what I am and what I do. I will never change, not for you, not for Rocko, not for Dan Ryan... NOBODY! I tried the change once when I started up IWF and look where it got me. I lost seven years of my life to depression, being homeless and on drugs. EVERYTHING I LOST STARTED with Rocko ****ing Daymon so you better damn believe it, white trash that i'm going to blame him for what happened.
(A lighter flicks on and a ciggerate is lit, it's cherry burns bright for a moment before cooling down as Jason takes a drag from it.)
Stalker: You are a child in a man's world, Tre. It's true, you got a loud mouth, some skills and a basic sense of the ring. But.. not my ring. I've tried to tell you repeatedly.......... you.. you just don't listen. At this point, you have no clue what it's like to face me. ASK PEOPLE TRE! ASK THEM! You truly think I care about Win and Loss records? If I did don't you think I would've stepped up against some of the *****es you've been fighting? They all looked like easy wins to me ESPECIALLY that dumb ass Mexican Russian Olivir. Easy victory right there.....
(Jason takes a long drag off his cig and again the cherry lights up what little can be seen of the dark area.)
Stalker: But wait... heh... heh.. You lost against him.
(A manic laugh bursts from Jason's mouth and echos in the room.)
Stalker: What kind of two bit ****ing wrestler loses to a Mexican Russian? Tre, you kid when you try to tell me you are elevating us to new heights. That's a ****ing joke. If anything you bring my ass down to your level by even referring to your weak self. Ever since i've been in Empire Pro you have been the farthest thing from a grower, everytime you speak it's the same **** that comes out your mouth. You aren't a pimp, you aren't the king of the streets and you are no ****ing match for me. The new standard? My ass. Watch my matches, watch my blood that I pour out for every match, watch everything that I am willing to do to secure victory. Watch it all and then come at me with some serious remarks.
(The light flicks on and it shows Jason holding a jersey folded up in his arms. He's standing over a trash can and he throws his cig into it then looks back at the camera.)
Stalker: If you don't respect me for what I am able to do to you then YOU just like THIS JERSEY...
(Jason shows the 'EPW Team Captain' Jersey to the camera and lights it on fire with his lighter before dropping it in the trash.)
Stalker: Will burn in a heap of flames. HOLLA...... *****.
(Fade out, son.)
(The scene opens up to darkness, complete, utter, black.)
Stalker: You want something different?
(Jason's voice is quiet like a whisper.)
Stalker: Something different?
(His voice louder this time has an angry tone to it.)
Stalker: I DONT DO DIFFERENT!
(The yelling was almost as bright as sunlight being ripped upon the camera lens, but it was only sound. Everything is still black and dark.)
Stalker: You talk about being resiliant? Are you ****ing kidding me? YOU WON THAT DAMN CROWN YOU SO PROUDLY SHOW OFF BY FALLING OFF THE DAMN CAGE, SON!
(Loud breathing is followed by the sudden outburst, it's dense and shallow, the breathing of an obvious smoker.)
Stalker: I don't have to evolve, Tre. I'm consistent, always there, always a pain in the side of whoever I choose. That is what I am and what I do. I will never change, not for you, not for Rocko, not for Dan Ryan... NOBODY! I tried the change once when I started up IWF and look where it got me. I lost seven years of my life to depression, being homeless and on drugs. EVERYTHING I LOST STARTED with Rocko ****ing Daymon so you better damn believe it, white trash that i'm going to blame him for what happened.
(A lighter flicks on and a ciggerate is lit, it's cherry burns bright for a moment before cooling down as Jason takes a drag from it.)
Stalker: You are a child in a man's world, Tre. It's true, you got a loud mouth, some skills and a basic sense of the ring. But.. not my ring. I've tried to tell you repeatedly.......... you.. you just don't listen. At this point, you have no clue what it's like to face me. ASK PEOPLE TRE! ASK THEM! You truly think I care about Win and Loss records? If I did don't you think I would've stepped up against some of the *****es you've been fighting? They all looked like easy wins to me ESPECIALLY that dumb ass Mexican Russian Olivir. Easy victory right there.....
(Jason takes a long drag off his cig and again the cherry lights up what little can be seen of the dark area.)
Stalker: But wait... heh... heh.. You lost against him.
(A manic laugh bursts from Jason's mouth and echos in the room.)
Stalker: What kind of two bit ****ing wrestler loses to a Mexican Russian? Tre, you kid when you try to tell me you are elevating us to new heights. That's a ****ing joke. If anything you bring my ass down to your level by even referring to your weak self. Ever since i've been in Empire Pro you have been the farthest thing from a grower, everytime you speak it's the same **** that comes out your mouth. You aren't a pimp, you aren't the king of the streets and you are no ****ing match for me. The new standard? My ass. Watch my matches, watch my blood that I pour out for every match, watch everything that I am willing to do to secure victory. Watch it all and then come at me with some serious remarks.
(The light flicks on and it shows Jason holding a jersey folded up in his arms. He's standing over a trash can and he throws his cig into it then looks back at the camera.)
Stalker: If you don't respect me for what I am able to do to you then YOU just like THIS JERSEY...
(Jason shows the 'EPW Team Captain' Jersey to the camera and lights it on fire with his lighter before dropping it in the trash.)
Stalker: Will burn in a heap of flames. HOLLA...... *****.
(Fade out, son.)