Mister Dread
League Member
::FADEIN on the backstage area. JASON TRIPP is standing by, mic in hand. Over his left shoulder we can see a dressing room door with MARX emblazoned across it::
TRIPP: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We’re standing by, hoping to get a word with Jonathan Marx regarding the HUGE triple-threat match he’s set to take part in January 12th at RAUCOUS …
TRIPP is abruptly cut off as a hand snakes into the picture and snatches the mic away. A gravelly voice snarls from off-camera::
VOICE: Leave. NOW.
::TRIPP flinches, his mouth working as though to form a protest. He thinks better of it, however, and scuttles off screen. The camera pans to reveal “THE WOLF” CHRIS McMILLAN. McMILLAN is about 20 pounds heavier since we saw him last, and sports an enormous pair of mutton chop sideburns. McMILLAN quickly glances around, his eyes darting side to side before settling on the camera::
WOLF: Awright, let’s get down to it. I don’t have a lot of time. I’m not here with the approval of the management. I haven’t been a member of this roster for a long time. Essentially, I’ve hijacked the show. They’ll be here to shut me down shortly, I’m sure, but I got something that’s just dying to be addressed.
::McMILLAN takes another quick look around before continuing::
WOLF: I retired from this business two years ago. See, I was so tired of all the pageantry, the witless silicon broads, the cheesy pyro, and the sub-par booking. It stopped being about wrestling a long time ago. This business has been about nothing more than money for a long time now, and I wanted no part of it. Yet something happened recently that has forced me to come here and illegally enter this arena. I saw something recently that made me physically ill. I’m talking to you, Jason Payne.
See, Jason, we’ve been friends. We’ve been tag partners. We’ve been bitter enemies. We’ve stood on the top of the mountain, and we’ve lain broken and trapped under the rubble below. You assaulted my family. I broke your neck. We’ve sunk to levels of violence and depravity that I’ve never seen since. We’ve done things to others and to each other that I actually feel … remorse for. Me. Yet I’ve never seen anything that made me angrier, that made me sadder, or that made me more SICK than what I saw from you last week. I turn on the TV expecting to see my old friend schooling some punk in the art of ass kicking. Instead, I see Jason Payne, one of the toughest, most brutal men I’ve ever been in the ring with, and you’re … FREAKIN’ HUMPING SOME DUDE!
::McMILLAN grabs the camera and yanks it close to his face::
WOLF: This saddens me, Jason. I can’t stand around and let you make a mockery of yourself, or of the things we’ve done in this sport. Ohhh, the announcers say you’ve been pushed over the edge by MWG. Well, you’re talking to the guy who talked to a tinfoil belt for four months after losing my shot at the old NFW TV title. I know what it’s like to be a little crazy. Basically, it comes down to this, Jason. You had better find yourself real quick, or I’ll put you to sleep. I’ll do it in NEW, I’ll do it in NFW, I’ll do it anywhere, in any ring, or even on the street, if I have to. You get yourself together, Payne, or you’ll have to deal with …
::McMILLAN is cut off as he’s tackled by a couple of security personnel. As he’s carried off camera, we hear McMILLAN screaming and howling as we FADE TO BLACK::
TRIPP: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We’re standing by, hoping to get a word with Jonathan Marx regarding the HUGE triple-threat match he’s set to take part in January 12th at RAUCOUS …
TRIPP is abruptly cut off as a hand snakes into the picture and snatches the mic away. A gravelly voice snarls from off-camera::
VOICE: Leave. NOW.
::TRIPP flinches, his mouth working as though to form a protest. He thinks better of it, however, and scuttles off screen. The camera pans to reveal “THE WOLF” CHRIS McMILLAN. McMILLAN is about 20 pounds heavier since we saw him last, and sports an enormous pair of mutton chop sideburns. McMILLAN quickly glances around, his eyes darting side to side before settling on the camera::
WOLF: Awright, let’s get down to it. I don’t have a lot of time. I’m not here with the approval of the management. I haven’t been a member of this roster for a long time. Essentially, I’ve hijacked the show. They’ll be here to shut me down shortly, I’m sure, but I got something that’s just dying to be addressed.
::McMILLAN takes another quick look around before continuing::
WOLF: I retired from this business two years ago. See, I was so tired of all the pageantry, the witless silicon broads, the cheesy pyro, and the sub-par booking. It stopped being about wrestling a long time ago. This business has been about nothing more than money for a long time now, and I wanted no part of it. Yet something happened recently that has forced me to come here and illegally enter this arena. I saw something recently that made me physically ill. I’m talking to you, Jason Payne.
See, Jason, we’ve been friends. We’ve been tag partners. We’ve been bitter enemies. We’ve stood on the top of the mountain, and we’ve lain broken and trapped under the rubble below. You assaulted my family. I broke your neck. We’ve sunk to levels of violence and depravity that I’ve never seen since. We’ve done things to others and to each other that I actually feel … remorse for. Me. Yet I’ve never seen anything that made me angrier, that made me sadder, or that made me more SICK than what I saw from you last week. I turn on the TV expecting to see my old friend schooling some punk in the art of ass kicking. Instead, I see Jason Payne, one of the toughest, most brutal men I’ve ever been in the ring with, and you’re … FREAKIN’ HUMPING SOME DUDE!
::McMILLAN grabs the camera and yanks it close to his face::
WOLF: This saddens me, Jason. I can’t stand around and let you make a mockery of yourself, or of the things we’ve done in this sport. Ohhh, the announcers say you’ve been pushed over the edge by MWG. Well, you’re talking to the guy who talked to a tinfoil belt for four months after losing my shot at the old NFW TV title. I know what it’s like to be a little crazy. Basically, it comes down to this, Jason. You had better find yourself real quick, or I’ll put you to sleep. I’ll do it in NEW, I’ll do it in NFW, I’ll do it anywhere, in any ring, or even on the street, if I have to. You get yourself together, Payne, or you’ll have to deal with …
::McMILLAN is cut off as he’s tackled by a couple of security personnel. As he’s carried off camera, we hear McMILLAN screaming and howling as we FADE TO BLACK::
Last edited by a moderator:
