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Glutton for Punishment



(FADEIN: GUNS sitting in his ranch in San Antonio, chuckling.)

GUNS: Eli Flair...you've decided you want a piece of me? (Chuckles.) That cage match really did mess up your head, didn't it, boy? You and Troy Windham both, because don't think I didn't take note of him runnin' his sorry mouth at me...from a HOSPITAL BED. A hospital bed that you put him in, Eli Flair. Good for you. But let me ask you somethin', Eli? You think you can do that to me? (Laughs.) You think you can put ME out? You think a few BROKEN FINGERS are gonna stop me from what EYE came here to do?

You got another think comin', Eli Flair...because I'm NOT the bastard child of the Windham family. I'm the Strongest Arms in the World, son. I'm Third Row, Inc. I'm the judge, jury, and EXECUTIONER of the CSWA. You wanna stand in my way? You think you can beat me down? NOTHING is going to stop me from what I intend to do here, Eli. I think that was made pretty well clear last Primetime. Mike Randalls hit me with his BEST SHOT...and I came back out the very next MATCH and did EXACTLY what I told the world I was gonna do to Wicked Sight. I beat his ass down, and I cost him a shot at the World title.

But, Wicked Sight doesn't know when to leave well enough alone, does he? Because he came out...and he cost me a match against Shane Southern in Anaheim. Maybe Sight's not as dumb as he looks...maybe, just maybe, he was smart enough to understand that I wasn't done with him by a LONG shot, so he may as well get his moral victories where he can get 'em. But, then again, maybe the boy's just a glutton for punishment. Kind of like you, Eli.

You're still recovering from one of the most brutal matches this place has seen since me and Randalls did our worst to each other. And now you're callin' ME out? Eli, you tell your little foul mouthed wench Ivy to keep the medicine cabinets stocked with all the Vicodin you used after Anniversary and THEN some, because you're gonna need it. You may think you're the man now because you beat up Troy Windham, but when I get through with you at Primetime, boy... you're just another souvenir for some lucky fan...courtesy of Third Row, Inc.


League Member
Jan 1, 2000
And Proud Of It

[font color= red]WS:[/font][font color= black] Physically, GUNS, you can destroy me and I'm going to keep coming back. Cardigo Mysterian damn near finished me off and I'm here, right? GUNS... you're half the man HE is... So I guess you can call me that glutton for pain.

But as far as my career... as far as politics... as far as emotions... I hate pain. I've dealt with it forever, the only thing getting me through the times here in the CSWA being the great fans that come to see me deliver the STELLAR performance they've come to expect out of Wicked Sight. That's why... I'm going for you. Because you are a cancer. Not because you're big and tough, not because you'll break us all, but because you're a rat, and you'll play whatever games you have to. I'm not going to let that happen, not when I see myself, when I see Shane Southern, or Lawrence Stanley, or Triple X... when I see them bust ass night in and night out... I won't let you get away with it.

Keep coming after me, big guy... Give me a chance to kill the cancer...

[font color= red]CUT OUT[/font]

Hex Angel

GUNS against the world


Since he moved from the Bronx to Hollywood, Eli Flair's had very limited time in his old neighborhood. It's been almost completely incidental - a stopover from New Jersey to Buffalo, or a day off spent with his old friends.

Every now and then he has a few days in a row to spend in his old building - his hiding place from the world during his early 20s, his refuge from the stress of being a World Champion in his late 20s, and the site of every significant event in his life until last October.

Hell, his lease doesn't run out until September; why not use it?

Flair's hair is wrapped up in a ponytail with a rubber band, several strands have escaped it. He's wearing an old, faded Marilyn Manson "KILL GOD/KILL PARENTS/KILL YOURSELF" shirt from their first tour about ten years ago, faded jeans, and VANs.

"I'm trying to understand something.... but it's really f**kin' blowing my mind here."

He rubs his eyes with his hands, stretching his arms high above his head.

"GUNS has a match against yours truly, the King of Extreme, the Original Nobody - probably another dozen or so nicknames just as moronic as the Strongest Arms in the World - Eli Flair, and he's talking about Wicked Sight. He's talking about Mike Randalls. He's talking about Troy Windham, still up in the hospital waiting for his body to stop bleeding."

"He's got a match with Eli Flair and he doesnt' have the first clue what kind of a night he's in for. It's like pulling a rocket launcher on a man who's armed with a potato gun. Pathetic, really."

"You need to take a step back and realize a few things, GUNS. This 'GUNS AGAINST THE WORLD' stance you're trying to throw up there is the biggest farce since the 1995 Ultratitle. I DON'T CARE about putting you out of the CSWA. I DON'T CARE if you take the CSWA down with you, or anyone whose life would crumble if the CSWA shut down. That doesnt' concern me."

"All I care about is this match. And you'd better f**king care about it too, because while six broken fingers might not stop you.... a ruptured disc might. Another stake through the knee might. A caved- in skull might. If my match with Troy at Anniversary taught the world anything.... it's the lengths I'm willing to go to get my hand raised."

Eli pulls the rubber band out of his hair, and pulls the stray wisps from the band's elasticity.

"Then again, I'm not Mike Randalls. But by the same token, I'm not Troy Windham or Wicked Sight, either. I don't have the ClaimStakers in my corner anymore. I don't have Poison Ivy in the corner anymore. It'll be just you and I, GUNS... but I have a feeling that'll be more than you can handle to begin with."

"What exactly do you intend to do here, GUNS, besides pretend you're still at the top of the heap? So far you've wrestled Randalls and Eddy Love in one form or another.... and you've been going after Wicked Sight like it's 1996 and he's the 'Nark."

Eli claps his hands together sharply.


"You call me a glutton for punishment. Why? Because I called out the almighty GUNS? Because I had the balls to look you dead in your eye and say 'Bring it, bitch'? Because, unlike most of the people in the CSWA, I was around to see your original reigns of terror on this promotion, and I haven't flinched yet?"

"I don't intend to flinch, GUNS. My injuries from ANNIVERSARY are all but healed, so there's nothing to hold me back. For the first time in over two years, there isn't a single injury to hold me back. Imagine that.... individually and as a group, I took out Deacon, took out Sweet Melissa, took out Adler, took out Foreign Exchange, took out Troy, and took out Hornet.... all with one good leg and three strained muscles. At least."

"Imagine what I'm going to do to you, healthy."

He stands up, taking off his shirt. Underneath, the myriad of scars and tattoos still bear some healing red marks from Anniversary, but it's easy to see that he's mostly healed.

"I don't think I'm the man because I beat up Troy Windham, GUNS.... and I don't think I'm the man because I've held the CSWA World Title. For that matter.... I don't think I think I'm the man, in any sense of the word. What is 'The Man' anyways? Just another cliche. You're just full of 'em since your CSWA return, yes?"

"Full of something, at least."

"I don't claim to be the man, GUNS.... but I'll tell you what I do claim to be - and that's the toughest mother f**ker in the CSWA, past or present. One of the most violent bastards in the history of this business with very little regard for my fellow man. Hell, even my own partners."

"When all is said and done, GUNS.... you're going to see what everyone else has seen. You're going to understand - even if I have to beat into your bloody skull - that you're not good enough to beat me."

"And after I beat you, GUNS.... then you, my friend, will make a lovely souvenir for a lucky fan.... somewhere in the Third Row."

He stops for a moment.

"Because unlike the position you're in, GUNS.... MY Primetime opponent is nowhere near my equal."

"Think about it."



And the World Loses

(FADEIN: GUNS sitting in his San Antonio ranch, looking amused.)

GUNS: Eli, that's the difference between you and me. You *claim* to be the toughest motherf-er in the CSWA. I *am* the toughest. Eli, it's painfully obvious that we don't scare each other. I can live with that. I don't NEED you to be afraid of me, Eli. I don't NEED you to respect me. I don't NEED you to come out here and tell me how great EYE am...because I already know.

But you, Eli...you take it as a slap in the face that I'm not afraid of you...that I'm not quaking in my boots at the thought of climbing into the ring with the man that broke Troy Windham's fingers. Big deal, Eli. Don't TALK about what you're going to do to me, son. Come DO it. You wanna give me another Bionic Knee? Don't say it. DO it. You wanna cave in my skull? DO it.

You see, Eli...here's the thing. Your war with Troy Windham, that was personal. I don't have anything against you, Eli. I don't hate you. I don't have a perverse need to cripple you. I put out an open contract, you filled it. I don't have ANYTHING to prove to you, Eli. But it sure seems like you have something you want to prove to me. It sure seems like you want me to BELIEVE in how good you are. At Primetime, Eli, you have your chance to MAKE me believe.

But you know what? It still don't mean a damn thing to me. You see, whether ANYBODY around here wants to admit it or not...bottom line, I'm one of the best this business has ever produced. Period. It's a cold, hard FACT. And maybe you are, too, Eli. Maybe you've become a SUPERSTAR while I've been away. You were always SECOND TIER to me, Eli...and maybe you've broken through that glass ceiling and made a name for yourself in this sport while I wasn't looking. Good for you, Eli.

And good for me, too. Eli, trust me when I tell you that I *HOPE* that you're as good as you want me to BELIEVE you are. Trust me when I tell you that I *HOPE* that you're as important to the CSWA as you want me to BELIEVE you are. You've taken down ALL the best and ALL the brightest in the CSWA...but you've never taken ME down. You want to make Third Row, Inc. another notch on your belt, son? Give it your best shot, but don't be disappointed to find out that it's JUST...NOT...GOOD ENOUGH.

You're right when you say, Eli...that your Primetime opponent is nowhere near your equal. He's on a whole other level that you'll NEVER reach, no matter HOW many scars you have on your back. And unlike the position YOU'RE in, Eli...MY Primetime opponent, quite simply, is my BITCH.

And when it's all over at Primetime, Eli...you'll be able to tell anybody who'll listen about how you took out Deacon, took out Sweet Melissa, took out Adler, took out Foreign Exchange, took out Troy, and took out Hornet.... all with one good leg and three strained muscles. (Smiles.) But all they'll remember, Eli, is how when you said you were HEALTHY...you got BEAT DOWN by the Strongest Arms in the World, and ended up just another SOUVENIR for some lucky fan, courtesy of Third Row, Inc.

Hex Angel

Double Standard


Eli Flair, with a bottle of Chartreuse in his hand, sitting on the roof of his condo in Hollywood, dressed in a gray CSWA T-shirt, baggy shorts, and dark sunglasses. His hair is magenta- colored, except for the front - it's a bright sky blue.

"It's something I've come to get used to in eight years. One set of standards for Eli Flair, one set of standards for the rest of the world. Eli Flair says something, they're the words of a desperate man, insecure and second rate, say the boys that've been in the locker room longer than me, washed up and overdue for retirement, say the boys that've been in the locker room for less time than me."

"GUNS.... the moment you used the word claim in reference to me, and the word am in reference to yourself, you became a carbon copy of nearly every opponent I've ever had in this sport. In my mind, you stopped being the Strongest Arms in the World and you became The Spookmaster. You became The Eliminator. You became.... and you need to be ashamed of this.... you resorted to words and tactics that put you in the same class as a wrestler who called himself Dogg."


"Goddamnitt, GUNS.... DOGG. A man calls himself Dogg and you're borrowing from his playbook. I want the GUNS I wrestle to be the man who came within an act of desperation of winning the UNIFIED title. The man who bloodied Mark Windham to within an inch of his life before getting screwed out of the EN title. The man who, to date, is the only man to have ever made Mike Randalls give."

"Not.... f**king.... DOGG."

"Are you, in fact, one of the best in this business? It'd have to be a VERY SMALL, VERY SELECT, VERY BIASED group of the best that didn't include the name GUNS. You've wrestled all over the world. You've held World Titles in every promotion you've been a part of, and those that you didn't, you either didn't WANT to go for the top for one reason or another, or the promotion shut down before you were able. The list of men you've defeated reads like a Who's Who."

Eli tears his sunglasses off his face and tosses them over the side.

"Irony writ large, GUNS. Those words are just as readily applicable to the name Eli Flair."

"I'm not exactly as good as I want you to believe, GUNS.... I'm a fair bit better. Will it be enough to defeat the almighty GUNS? Who can say? Out of all the legends who have stepped into a CSWA ring, GUNS.... you're the last one. One way or another, after our match I'll know for certain where I stand among the top wrestlers of all time."

"But I won't compare to GUNS, right? That is what you're planning to tell me, right?"


"Because my success came after yours had waned? Because you were winning World Titles when I was still jacking cars on New York streets? Because the men you became a star alongside aren't the same names as the ones I became a star alongside?"

"I'm not willing to dismiss you as completely as you did me. It's dangerous, and it leads to insanely embarrassing massacres when one man isn't quite ready for the other. I'm not willing to dismiss you that easily, and I'm hoping you'll reconsider your own stance."

"Why? Because believe it or not, GUNS.... I am going to be all you can handle at PRIMETIME.... and the smart money says I'll be more. You can believe it if you want to or keep deluding yourself that it's 1995, I've been in the business less than a year, and you shouldn't have to lower yourself in between World Title matches with Hornet, Randalls, and Adler to grace my ring with your presence."

"Whether or not I'm as good as I believe I am is irrelevant."

"I already know it."

"One way or another, after PRIMETIME.... so will you."



Not at all

(FADEIN: GUNS sitting in his San Antonio ranch, shaking his head.)

GUNS: Eli, please, don't act so insulted...I know it's not 1995 anymore...a lot of things have changed. You picked up a last name since I've been gone, and quite the original one at that. Can't slip these things by me, Eli...I know you're no rookie anymore. I know that you're in the upper echelon of this sport now. Apparently, you, Randalls, and Hornet had yourselves a little alliance...and they don't exactly travel with Carl Brigsby and Wesley Paige.

I'm not doubting your talent, Eli. I'm not doubting your skills. I'm not doubting your abilities.

I'm just telling you I don't care. It doesn't matter to me, Eli. You could be Carl Brigbsy for all I care...it's not going to affect what I do in that ring, because I'm coming to Primetime to impose my will. Everything else is just a matter of resistance. How much resistance will you provide, Eli? (Smiles.) From the sounds of it, quite a lot. (Pauses.)

Good. I like that, Eli...because I didn't come back here for some nostalgia trip. I didn't come back here for one last dance in the spotlight...surprise Mike Randalls, get a gold watch from Merritt, go back home, and say "Seeya in five years." I came back to make an IMPACT, Eli...the type of impact that will bring this whole place down around me. You don't care about my broader ambitions, Eli, and I respect that...which is why I'm not going to spout my cliches that you so detest, and I'm going to speak in cold, hard FACT.

I'm not taking you lightly, Eli. Not by a longshot. What about you? When you look at me, Eli...what do you see? Do you see the Strongest Arms in the World? Do you see one of the best in the business? Or are you looking at a HAS-BEEN trading off his name value to get one last ovation from the fans? Are you looking at an OPPORTUNITY for you to prove ONE MORE TIME that you can sit at the big kid's table?

Primetime, Eli...you get that opportunity. And for all your talk about how I'm underestimating you...I've got this feeling in the pit of my stomach that you have NO idea what YOU'RE up against. I'll promise you one thing, son...

If you come to Primetime and expect to see Dogg across the ring from you...

you'll be SORELY disappointed.

Hex Angel

...and all that could have been...


Eli Flair, sitting on a bench on the Jersey City pier, overlooking the New York City skyline.

"A last name.... and quite an original one at that."

He looks straight into the camera.

"Are you f**kin' kidding me, GUNS?"

"Of all the things I'd expected you to say, that wasn't one of 'em. You say you're one of the best in the sport, GUNS.... but all I've seen so far is a man named DOGG."

"I can't help what appears on my birth certificate, driver's license, and social security card any more than I could help a crew- cut wearing, steroid- abusing, multiple personality suffering as**ock signed a contract as 'The Eliminator' when I was rehabbing an injury in early 1998. But all in all it was the best thing I ever did.... because look at me now."

"Oh, wait.... where can I really be? I'm still fighting every night to prove I deserve to sit at the big kids' table. Right, GUNS? I've won a World Title here and eleven others in other places, but I'm still fighting every night to prove I deserve to sit at the big kids' table. Right, GUNS?"

"After all, I've never beaten GUNS. I can't be a star if I haven't beaten GUNS."

"What do I see when I look at you, GUNS? I see a man who still has a few years left in this sport before he's done. I see a man who can still stand toe- to- toe with the best in this sport if he tries his hardest to do so. Well, he'd best try his hardest, GUNS.... because that's exactly what you're doing at PRIMETIME."

"So we're agreed. I don't care what your plans are and you don't care what mine are. All that's left to figure out is which of us is the irresistable force and which is the immovable object. Because something is most definitely gonna give. Your career, your legs, your luck. They're all gonna hold or they're all gonna break, GUNS.... whichever it is will be up to you."

"But what I also see in your eyes is a man who was very comfortable with the way things were the last time he was an active wrestler. A man who is trying to figure out where he fits into the CSWA now that everything is changed. There's this kid with a bad streak job in his hair calling shots like he owns the place. There's a man with an obsession equally strong for Mike Randalls and teddy bears as a former World Champion. There's Bugbrain, the fallen messiah, getting fourteen years' worth of missed scandal. There's Lil' Mikey Plett, an actual challenge for the CSWA's franchise?"

"It's f**ked up, isn't it, GUNS? But it's cool, because you don't really belong anywhere in the CSWA. You and I have that in common, at least.... we've never fit the 'role' of CSWA superstar because we don't like signing autographs. Because we stood in the face of our respective 'ultimate CSWA heroes' and spit in it."

"Think about it. You refused to kowtow to Hornet and I refused to kowtow to Deacon. Scary, yes?"

"At the same time.... in a lot of ways.... you're right. I signed your open contract because I have to know.... I have to know where I stand when all is said and done. A lot of the younger guys look at me as one of the bridges between the current generation of wrestling star and the previous one. But I have to know...."

"Before I won the belt, GUNS, Hornet took great pleasure in telling me essentially what you're telling me now. That I was good, but I didn't measure up. That I had the skills, but not nearly good enough. Since the moment I dropped the belt to Deacon, I've been on a mission, GUNS.... to find every wrestler who was considered one of the top names back in my rookie years.... and send 'em packing."

"I can honestly say, now, that you're the last one."

"At the risk of being accused of kissing your ass, I saved the best for last. You're not as insane as the Windham boys. You're not as egotistical as Adler. You're not as careerist as Hornet. Quite simply, you don't give a s***."

"I like that."

"Your mission this time, you claim, is to bring the CSWA crashing down around Merritt's head. I can promise you.... you can't do that without going through me. Not that I feel any particular loyalty to Merritt, mind you.... just because I'm that f**king good and that f**king big of a CSWA superstar. My mission is to take every legend in this sport and do 'em one better.... to beat 'em. It's a foregone conclusion I can't do that without going through you."

"The irresistable force and the immovable object, GUNS.... I think you're finally getting the picture of how epic this confrontation will be. If the CSWA itself can even survive it, one thing's for certain."

"Something's gotta give."


Three Seconds

(FADEIN: GUNS is sitting in his San Antonio ranch, nodding his head and smirking.)

GUNS: Eli, we've repeated this pattern a few times now, and I'm starting to get the hang of it. I tell you something, and you get offended by it, only to later admit that it's pretty much true. One of these days, Eli, we'll get around to skipping the part where the truth irritates you, and you'll reach the point of accepting that I *DON'T* take you lightly, that I *DON'T* expect to show up in Seattle half-assed and wipe the mat with you, and that I *AM* expecting a WAR when we step into the ring at Primetime.

Instead of getting mad at me when I say you're striving for a seat at the big kid's table, how about taking a look in the mirror, Eli? Because you've been the CSWA World Heavyweight Champion...you've beaten a whole laundry list of the biggest names in the sport... you put Troy Windham in the hospital and he STILL hasn't gotten out... and yet you STILL feel the need to give me your resume everytime you step in front of a camera. (Chuckles.) You don't hear me coming out and telling you how I steamrolled Mike Randalls and Mark Windham in the same MATCH to win the EN World Heavyweight title. You don't hear me telling you about my back and forth battles with Adler. You don't hear me telling you about beating Hornet in a Loser Leaves the CSWA match. You don't hear me running my mouth about it is because it's in the PAST, and you don't hear me running my mouth about it because you already KNOW...the fans already KNOW...and I don't have to PROVE my status as a legend in this sport because it's not OPINION, it's FACT. That's the attitude you need to get familiar with, Eli...if you ever want to make that final leap from "DAMN GOOD" to "certified LEGEND."

You see, Eli...as much as you and Wicked Sight and Shane Southern want to flap your gums about the "new and improved CSWA", I look around and I see that the more things supposedly change, they look pretty much the same to me. I look around and I see Hornet, Adler, Randalls, Windham, Joey Melton...yeah, there's new blood...there's Eddy Love where Steven Flair used to be...there's Evan Aho where Julius Godreign used to be...there's Wicked Sight where Anarky used to be...and there's an Eli Flair where a green young punk named the Eliminator used to be. The names may have changed, Eli, but the game is still the same...and for all the new blood, the CSWA *still* comes down to a two-man game between Chad Merritt and Hornet, and THAT'S what I came back here to destroy.

Eli Flair, I didn't come back here to add to your legacy. I didn't come back here to be the last notch on your belt. Maybe you will beat me, Eli, and complete the circle, and have another name to tack onto your laundry list of names that you've beaten, so that you can tell your next opponent "I'm good because I've beaten Hornet, Randalls, Deacon, and GUNS." (Smiles.) But that's where our goals differ, Eli...because I've been around long enough to realize one thing... if you beat me today, I'll just be more determined to beat you tomorrow. If I beat you today, you'll be even hungrier and will come right back at me. Victory is ephemeral, Eli...it doesn't last. Three seconds in time is all it takes to get your hand raised, and then the cheers die down and you walk back to the locker room, hit the showers, and go home.

One match doesn't make a career, Eli Flair. One match doesn't erase a legend. Irresistable force v. the immovable object? (Laughs.) You're talking like this is your Super Bowl, Eli Flair...and you're going to get mad at me when I don't feel the same way. I don't care if you're Carl Brigsby or Kin Hiroshi or Shane Southern or Eli Flair...at the end of the day, you're just another match in a long line of 'em. But don't mistake my sense of perspective for apathy, Eli...far from it. Make no mistake, son...I'm coming to Seattle and I'm going to give everything I've got...and I fully intend on pinning your shoulders to the mat and tossing you into the third row. But I also come to Seattle knowing full well that for three brief seconds in time, Eli...you may be better than me. You may get your hand raised. (Smiles.) And then I'll still toss your ass into the third row. Because, bottom line, three seconds doesn't mean a DAMN thing, Eli...if I win, I'm not better than you because I beat you. I'm better than you because I have a whole CAREER that says so. To get above the bar that I've set, Eli...it doesn't happen in three seconds...it happens over a LIFETIME.

Now, Eli...you want to talk about a lasting *LEGACY*...I've done everything there is to do in my career except one thing. (Grins.) And, at the risk of offending you, beating you ISN'T the one thing I'm missing. No, Eli...I came back here to bring the walls of this place down around me. Now, you've stepped up to the plate and say I have to go through you to do it. (Smiles.) That's what I want to hear. THAT's a challenge. But once again, Eli, it's not a challenge that will be answered in one night. It's not a challenge that can be answered in three brief seconds. Only TIME will tell, Eli...whether you really are that F'N good...

Or whether you were Just Another Souvenir passed out at the hands of Third Row, Inc.


League Member
Jan 1, 2000
Neither One Of You...

WS: Neither one of you seems to understand... Eli, you've been in the ring with me, you should know better. You're going to say I'm not capable of being the big cheese around here? And GUNS, you're so obsessed that you think this is ALL about Merritt and Hornet? Thousands of men have walked through the doors of the CSWA, GUNS, THOUSANDS... Merritt and Hornet might be about Merritt and Hornet, but when the Deacon sat in the ring and told the world he had MS, he told the world to look at Lawrence Stanley and myself among others... that we ARE the future.

And I had this little catchphrase a few years back... GUNS and Eli, you two are all for living in the past... I had this little catchphrase. "The Future Is Forsaken". Well the Forsaken is dismantled, and the only similance of the Forsaken is in my HEART... in the soul of the fans that come here to see me deliver to them the STELLAR PERFORMANCE THEY DESERVE! And that little bit of Forsaken... IS the future. Because I'm not Anarky, or Julius Godreign or Steven Flair... I'm MICHAEL F****** PLETT! And when your bionic knees have fell apart, GUNS... and when you've slayed all the legends here, Eli... and when I've finally set out to defeat you and I have, Eli... Wicked Sight is going to stand on top. Eli, me and you, as much different as we are, we're so much the same... You see, it's well documented, I crave everyone's love and their respect. You look at it like you don't want it... but inside, you have to prove to yourself that you can beat the very best of all time.

And funny how that works Eli... I'm sitting here looking around to show everyone I can beat the best. I've got Hornet at PrimeTime, for the United States title. I've went toe-to-toe with our World champion before, and yet have we come to a clean outcome... this last time because GUNS couldn't mind his own business once again. For someone so hellbent on destroying Hornet, for someone who thinks I'm just another Anarky... GUNS sure does spend a lot of time trying to keep me down, doesn't he? I've beaten Troy Windham, I've laid Hornet out like I will at PrimeTime, I've went face to face with The Apocalypse, I've pinned Steve Radder's shoulders to the mat, I've even taken down JT Tyler. And you guys act like I'm some fly-by-nighter, like I'm the flavor of the week, and you guys throw my name out as jokes and insults to each other? That's good... don't see me coming.

But I know Eli Flair well enough to know that he knows... I'm for real. And GUNS, when we meet again, and you know we WILL meet again... you'll find out exactly how long I'm going to last. Because even if you get beat by Flair at P-T... you're still going to be looked at as one of the biggest. Maybe when I finish you off and send you back to your ranch for good, maybe then the wrestling world will know what the CSWA's great fans have known since I took this league by surprise three years ago... THIS FREAK RUNS THE PAGEANTRY...


Get the Freak Out

(FADEIN: GUNS sitting in his San Antonio ranch, grinning, wearing a Third Row, Inc. shirt and jeans.)

GUNS: Mike Plett...Wicked Sight...Peter Parker...Spider Man...whatever you want to call yourself, it don't mean a damn thing to me. (Smiles.) You say that I spend a lot of time trying to keep you down...boy, you took my name in vain...I told you I would beat you down for doin' it, and I did it. Don't make it out like I think you're anything special, because you're just another punk. I've seen dozens of guys like you, Mike...I've seen 'em come in with all the fanfare and fizzle out and fall to the wayside.

Mike, I don't *think* the CSWA revolves around Hornet and Merritt. (Smiles.) I *know* it does. Chalk it up to years of experience. Hornet's the "Franchise", and the CSWA is Merritt's plaything. They made a ton of money together...and now they're making money fighting each other. (Smiles.) Maybe it's because the only man to ever REALLY stand up to both of 'em had gone away. Now that I'm back, it might not be long before Hornet and Chad are back on each other's Christmas card lists. (Laughs.) After all, when I do what I say I came back to do...when I crumble the CSWA to the ground brick by wretched brick, their wallets will be a whole lot lighter for it.

You want to talk about the future, son? Deacon said you were the future, so it must be so. (Laughs.) Let me let you in on a little secret, son...the man's name comes up every now and then, but you want the truth? I don't have the first damn clue who he is. Think about it. I ain't been gone all THAT long. And that's exactly what I'm talkin' about, Mike. Stars come in and burn out fast and furious under the hot lights of the CSWA. You're no different, except unlike Deacon, you haven't even spent a minute at the mountaintop.

You could have gotten there someday, Mike...hell, maybe you would have got there just a few weeks ago if you hadn't opened your damn mouth. Think about it, Peter Parker...you wouldn't have been on my radar screen...and I wouldn't have taken the time out of my day to shake off those Mike Randalls chairshots and teach you a lesson anyway.

You see, Mike...you want to be a hero to the people. (Laughs.) I went down that road once...but in the end, no good deed goes unpunished. You see, Sight, don't worry your pretty little head...there's gonna come a time when I give you as much attention as I've been paying to Eli. There's gonna come a time when you can tell me about ALL of your accomplishments and who you've beaten. Then, son, there's gonna come a time when you're gonna have to climb into the ring and try to beat ME.

And, boy, I already know that you don't have it in you. You don't even have THREE SECONDS of greatness in you, son. I'm tossin' down that punk card right now. (Smiles.) Anytime you wanna come pick it up, I'm not a hard man to find.

Until then, son, fight the good fight...and show me what you can do against Bugbrain. Show me what you've got. Show me that the CSWA isn't all about Hornet anymore. Show me that it's a BRAND NEW era. Show me, Sight...and then we'll talk again.

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