GOLD RUSH Round 1 Roleplay Thread

[TH]

Now we're out on the deck of the PCL II, sundown, most people are either at dinner, or they've been chased off by Roderick McRatrick and his "bloodhound" Rusty Joe. (Confused? Read the third segment down!) The only one standing there, leaning off the side, is Jericoholic Anonymous, Greensboro Championship strapped around his waist, dressed similarly to how he was earlier.

JA: Wow, it looks like we've gotten a whole sh*tload of sh*theads entering in this thing since I last checked in. We've got Indians, the tomahawk chop variety, not the "Thank you, come again," denomination. We've got more people with names beginning with the letter Ecks than I think I've ever met in my life, or even care to have met. We have Professor Horrendous parading around with a belt he won in one of those crane machines on Coney Island. And by won, I mean he had Tuss throw a brick through the glass and take it while no one was looking. And by no one, I mean everyone.

Nearly everyone's trying to peddle their life stories, and not a damn one can do it without putting me halfway to sleep. I don't really give a sh*t if you and your life partners are having issues. I don't care if your daddy beat you when you were a child. I don't care if you like to drink coffee before you take a Jay Smash in the morning. I don't care.

All of these people, and barely any one of them have had anything useful to say. The biggest culprit of this so far has been our fair Champion and house-husband, Troy Windham-Troy, but I'll get to you later. For now, you can continue to read your romance novels and stroke your mangina while you get that tingly feeling you discovered you could get down there while using that massaging shower head to clean your feminine areas.

In the meantime, let me rewind and go through some other folks before I rip into the Chumpion.

First up, we have "All-Natural" Dan Rhinosaur, or at the very least, his Alter Ego Buster, and he's spouting off several things, probably in some steroid induced stupor, but the most interesting of which was that I was just some pretender. I'm guessing that comment was all on the Alter Ego Buster there, because the Ryano I know wouldn't go around throwing terms like that, right? Or is he content and happy to be paying a six-figure downside guarantee to some mook he just found off the streets? I mean, I'm sure Danny-Boy's not the kind of person who lets some fugazi pretender walk in off the streets and HEADLINE shows for his own personal investment. Because if I'm a pretender, then his whole damn show is a fraud, seeing as I'm one of his most marketable assets as well as his best pure wrestler.

But hey, Alter Ego Buster, when you get a hold of Danny, you let him know a couple of things. First, let him know that I'll be the bigger man and won't pull the old IrishTed gimmick of intentionally sh*tting on his company on his own company's time. I'll still show up to work on time, continue making his ratings among the highest on cable television and his buyrates the envy of most wrestling companies everywhere as long as my contract states.

And secondly, be sure to remind him of what an utter disappointment to this company and all the fans he has in Greensboro and abroad that he's become. Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I want you to tell him all this, Alter Ego Buster. Well, it turns that after some suits over at See-Ess Towers decided they were going to take his belt away from him, he was never able to prove that it belonged to him anyway. I mean, he was put in a tournament to reclaim it, and he got so close to proving that, "RAAAHR, I'M THE BIG BAD RHINOSAUR RAAAHR!" but he got beat... by He-Troy. So Troy-diddy ended up asserting his physical dominance over over him.

Then, after those same suits took the belt of of Mr. Windham-Troy, they decided to put Ryano in a match for said belt. So he fought with Troy-boy's retarded older brother over it, and it looked like he was going to win it again. But as fate would have it, He-Troy scampered out from the back and stole the belt back into his possession from right under his nose, thus asserting his mental dominance over Ryano.

Physical and mental dominance... wow, doesn't that just make the Rhinosaur Troy-Diddy's b*tch? Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Alter Ego Buster? So just let remind him of that, remind him that he's going to be eliminated, maybe by Troy-diddy, probably by someone else who isn't totally dominated by wrestling posers who moonlight as Zee-List celebrities in their spare time. So that when someone else who hasn't failed miserably at this in the past goes on and wins, the sting won't be so intense.

Oh, and one more thing... he's the only hope we have against Troy-boy, Ives? F*ck off. I'm taking back everything I said about being sorry about calling you Miss Melons.

Next up is Manhands Troy, and boy, She-Troy, do you sound pissed. You sound as if He-Troy kicked your puppy or pissed on your lunch or surprised attacked you and married you against your will in some fake ceremony, administered by one of his toadies. Relax, take a ch... oh wait, that last one did happen to you. My apologies. If that happened to me, well, for one, it wouldn't have been binding unless it took place in Vermont, but thank God none of the companies that He-Troy would deign himself to work for have to resort to holding shows there to make ends meet. Two, I'd be pretty pissed off. I don't begrudge you wanting to kick his head in.

But here? Now? My question to you is... why? You can do it in the actual company that it happened in, y'know, the one where all us pretenders work at? That would be the logical place to do it. But not here. This match is for something bigger. It's for something worth a lot more than revenge for a stupid fake marriage that you're probably going to get annuled in time for the next Aggression anyway. It's for the UNIFIED Championship, the biggest prize in the game. Which means you sh*t or get off the pot, Queenie. You're going to have several of the biggest names and brightest stars in all of wrestling gunning for the gold. Of course, most of them will either be pursuing it really poorly, or they'll be more worried about whether their angst is really showing off, but you that at least I'm not going to slack off.

And when I'm going for people to eliminate, I'm going to take you out first. I mean sure, to you I might just be some slap-happy moron who's only here to make people laugh and snag the free spread after the show's over, but your vision is clearly clouded. You can get He-Troy some other time, and you won't have to worry about him leaving with the strap around his waist. Trust me, I'll be the one to lay the hurt down on him by taking it. I'll leave his broken body for you to scavenge after the match, but mark my words, I'm coming after you first.

Because you don't just come into another man's match and try to snatch his target for your own selfish reasons.

One more stop before I get to the Head Moron, and one happens to be you, Peter Fedex. Although really, it's not so much hatespeech I have for you as much as it is advice, and that advice is for your next promotional spot, why don't you just videotape yourself jerking off. Seriously, they say a picture is worth a thousand words, and hey, it'll excite our female audience and the Good Professor. I mean, you could have done all that before and spared us the hot-aired speech of you spouting off every title you've won.

I mean, you're a World Champion and a Hall of Famer. Big f*cking deal, I got to touch the biggest ball of wax in the Northern Hemisphere, and my girlfriend's the Suffolk County, Virginia rib eating champion. Oh yeah, I held a few titles and I still hold one now [pats the G-boro Championship]. You don't hear us talking about that stuff non-stop now, do you? You, however, can't shut up. Well, lemme let you in on a little secret.

Just about everyone else in this match has won World Championships as well, douchesipper.

Seriously, Fedex, you're not special, you're not a snowflake. No one's going to give a good God damn in ten years what titles you've won, especially since no one gives a good God damn about the titles you've won right now. Everyone in this match only cares about one title. The one that Captain Cable Ace fraudulently wears around his waist. Besides, I'm pretty sure the ring crew in the companies that folks like myself, Danny Boy and even losers like Hagar the Horrible... err, I mean Eron the F*cktarded have won belts in have more credibility than the folks you've bested. So until you've got something constructive to say, I've got some lube and a porno tape you can borrow for your next spot. Although from the looks of you, you'll probably want some from Roddy's "interspecies erotica" stash.

Finally, we get back to where I started this little spiel. Troy Windham-Troy. The Epitomé of Jackassery.

You know, Troy-boy, not everyone who throws insults at you is a hater. I mean, you were quite wrong in your assessment of my pull in Hollywood. Public access stations could only dream of one day having me do a show on their networks. Nothing against public access either, I mean, without them, I don't get to watch KISSForum or late-90s Dee-movie grade slasher flicks starring Shannon Tweed, Bruce Campbell or Troy Windham... oh wait, you are Troy Windham! Actually, if you want to get technical, I was offered a part as Strong Bad in the big screen adaptation of Dangeresque, but I had to turn it down. Why?

Because that's not my career. I'm a wrestler, Jim, not an actor. That crap... it doesn't get me riled up. Sure, I like watching a movie or TV, but I could never want to be in one. I mean, they probably wouldn't even want me to do any of my own stunts. But wrestling... it's in my blood. It's the only thing I've ever wanted to do. It's not something I do in-between roles as the evil wife-batterers-slash-kiddie porn magnates for the Lifetime Movie of the Week starring Judith Light. It's something I want to do all the frigging time.

I want to be in there, kicking the crap out of assholes like you. I want to be the one who gets the crowd to chant his name. I wanna hold the UNIFIED Championship and represent FIFTY different promotions. I want... to be a professional wrestler twenty-five hours a day and eight days a week.

That's right, I'm no part-timer. I'm not someone like you, who doesn't even have the balls to face me one-on-one. Fifty large to the person who eliminates me? What, Troy-boy, you don't have the balls to take me out by yourself? I guess you don't want me to kick the face in that wins you the award that people with Grammies make fun of.

So yeah, cherish the time you have left with your belt, Troy-boy. But at least you can take solace in two things. One, I wouldn't touch your Cable Ace Awards with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot poll, and two... well, at least you'll get to keep your fifty grand.

Fade to the CSWA Anniversay 18 logo.

 

[Steve]

(FADEIN: A beautiful grassy field with plush hills and valleys.)

(MUSIC UP: “Glory Of Love” – CHICAGO)

(CUTTO: A knight on a courageous white steed riding into frame.)

Tonight its very clear
As were both lying here
Theres so many things I want to say
I will always love you
I would never leave you alone

(CUTTO: The Knight throwing his right hand up in the air and stopping the horse on a dime, ten feet from camera. The mighty beast bellows then rears back on its hind legs.)

Sometimes I just forget
Say things I might regret
It breaks my heart to see you crying
I dont wanna lose you
I could never make it alone

(CUTTO: The knight dismounting and running towards the camera with his javelin poised for attack.)

I am a man who will fight for your honor
Ill be the hero youre dreaming of
Well live forever
Knowing together that we
Did it all for the glory of love

(CUTTO: Lindsay Troy in a white wedding dress running across a grassy field. She’s stunning. The new Princess Buttercup.)

Youll keep me standing tall
Youll help me through it all
Im always strong when youre beside me
I have always needed you
I could never make it alone

(CUTTO: Joey Melton in Knight’s armor running towards Lindsay. He tosses the Javelin aside. Bum Bum Bum Ba Ba Ba.)

I am a man who will fight for your honor
Ill be the hero youve been dreaming of
Well live forever
Knowing together that we
Did it all for the glory of love

(CUTTO: Lindsay and Melton running towards each other, so close! Re-u-nited and it feels so good! Troy dives into Joey’s waiting arms! Both arms wrapped around her, Melton spins Lindsay around carelessly. The high is expected to be 85 degrees today.)

Just like a knight in shining armor
From a long time ago
Just in time I will save the day
Take you to my castle far away

(CUTTO: Melton grabs the back of Troy’s head and kisses her deeply, dipping her perilously close to the Earth. What a woman. Nay. What a man.)

I am a man who will fight for your honor
Ill be the hero youre dreaming of
Were gonna live forever
Knowing together that we
Did it all for the glory of love

(CUTTO: Melton and Troy on a trampoline in their backyard. Wheeeee.)

Well live forever
Knowing together that we
Did it all for the glory of love

(CUTTO: Lindsay and Joey Tango dancing in the CSWA Hall-of-Fame.)

We did it all for love
We did it all for love
We did it all for love
We did it all for love

(CUTTO: Joey Melton asleep in a chair in front of a CSWA ANNIVERSARY ’06 backdrop.)

VOICE: Joey! Mr. Melton!

(Melton keeps snoozing. “I am a man….”)

VOICE: My Lord!

MELTON: (stirs) WHAT? No, crush the pickles Alfred. Then spread them over the soy like minced onions. Where the ****?

VOICE: Sorry, sir. You nodded off.

MELTON: How long have I been out?

(Former CSWA powerplant worker “Downtown” Daryl Kegan and current cameraman walks into frame. Daryl is a small kid. 5’9, triple digits soaking wet. Kegan helps Joey off the chair.)

KEGAN: Asleep or relevant?

MELTON: Asleep you irritant. And I have relevancy dammit. It’s right here in my back pocket… (Joey fishes for his wallet but comes up with a choice finger for the kid. BURN!)

KEGAN: I was joking, sir. Rudy told me jab with you. Says you’re like an old horse that needs to be run once during the day before being forced to breed.

MELTON: Hey, I wish I was forced to breed. Somewhere in a bank locker is an old script I penned a few years ago with roughly the same premise.

KEGAN: (laughs) I bet.

MELTON: Sorry for nodding off. Between my life becoming a spec episode for “Without A Trace” and the man who usually writes my promos being late…I’m lost here.

KEGAN: Mister Melton. Let me cut the promo.

MELTON: Kid I don’t think anyone will believe you’re me. I’ve seen you train with those nut huggers on. You could barely pass for a steady ballpoint pen.

KEGAN: (enraged) You know how much I hate Troy Windham! What he did to me! Look, I knows I ain’t allowed to wrestle. The doctors don’t have to keep remindin’ me of that. But just once I want to look into a camera, KNOW Troy’s watching and tell him to **** off! Tell him he can go to sweet hell for what he did to me. For the dream that he took away!

MELTON: Whoa. That’s about a Nine on the tension scale there Albert.

KEGAN: (Daryl ignores Melton and looks directly into the camera with STEELY eyes. He’s about to unleash a promo he’s DREAMED of cutting on Troy Windham. That SNAKE IN THE GRASS!) JULY 14TH! 2005! Does that date ring a bell? (if not kids, just click here: http://www.cswawrestling.com/archives/2005/all/EEkEFZlyZyAQrDweeY.shtml ) Of all the gin joins in all the world…why Troy did you have to piss on mine? Why did you…

MELTON: And cut. (Joey nudges Kegan out of the way.) If you’re going to cut a promo on the herpial disaster, try this. Dissolve fade in 3….2…

(beat)

MELTON: You know how I know you’re gay Troy? Because you shoved your balls in my face on regional television. Because the best part of you waking up every day wasn’t ****ing Folgers in your cup, it was dreaming of ways to get me to taste you. For Joey Melton the man who ****ing CREATED THIS COMPANY. THAT BELT! To drink the KOOL-AID. You tried to disgrace me out West, but luckily I had two things going in my favor.

1) I’ve had another man’s balls in my face before. Kinda lessens the shock and awe.
2) Nobody ****ing watches NFW. The tree fell in the forest and nobody heard.

I know it must have been tough growing up in Sweetwater, Texas. Hell it’s tough just getting that sentence out. Worse, you grew up a Windham. I’m sure you can empathize with dumb *****es who have to live through battered wife syndrome. You never had a chance, to be anything but a Texan.

One day as a teen you turned on U-62. Maybe you were looking for “Tiny Toons” originally. They’re Tiny. They’re Toony. They’re all a little loony. Yeah, you wanted animation that made you forget about life as Troy Windham but you found the CSWA. You found your brother’s workplace when he DEMANDED you never look. And what did you see Troy? You saw Joey Melton. You saw a true KING lording over his people. You saw a man of class, of dignity, of color. You saw the anti-body to what life in Sweetwater must have been. And you got a little moist didn’t you?

You watched as I cut a promo, as I showed a slide show of all the finer things in life I had at my possession. You saw the Melton limo. The five thousand dollar Italian shoes, taken off my feet, and being used to BEAT some poor sod. And you snaked a hand under your Sweetwater High gym shorts and you played to the beat of your own drums, didn’t you Troy?

You’ve creamed your pants for nearly twenty years at the mere THOUGHT of being me. And now you’ve taken it too far. I was fine with playing Mr. Moose. Rinse, repeat, boil…and I was fine. But you, Troy, you put your hands on my girl. NOBODY touches Melton’s girl!

The fact of the matter is Windham. Thomas doesn’t want me here. Hell, I don’t want to be here, because the brick and mortar I broke my back to throw up have been torn down. That title in your hands can be bought on cswawrestling.com and mean just about as much. You beat GUNS. You out lasted Hornet.You profited as I drank my way out of this business. You fought all your life to be King for a day, only you were crowned when Rome fell.

Listen to me closely, tapeworm. I’m not doing this to reclaim what’s mine. You’re fighting 100 men? Great. I won this belt from Ryan in a pressroom. Beat that. I’ll be in Greensboro because nobody’s ever slapped you across the face and told you what CAN’T be had. Nobody’s ever told you “no” Troy.

Until now.

You’ve been sucking my balls from day one, Windham. On the 27th, you’re going out on the street to find your own game.

(FTB)

 

[BWade]

Alone, again. Pt. II (Back in the Big Times)

The scene opens slowly to a damp downtown street; lined with newspaper machines, cigarette butts, and public trash cans. The dark skies loom over the area daring to let the clouds again pound the concrete and asphalt below. Cars drive by in the hustle bustle of everyday life, splashing threw small puddles collecting where the street meets the curb.

A white taxi glides into view and as quickly as it can stop the back door pops open, throwing small droplets of water that instantly blend in with the already saturated side walk.

Kevin Watson emerges from the taxi with his long knotted hair swinging in front of his face just inches above his dingy t-shirt. Faded, dull, and tattered blue jeans cover his legs down to his black leather boots; untied and cracking from age. He pauses only for a moment; digging deep down in his right pocket to produce a few crumbled up bills. He hands them over to the unseen taxi driver, and turns around to momentarily survey the environment, and continues on his way.

The scene changes to the inside of a small, but professional office space. The door swings open and an electronic notification signal rings threw the office. Kevin lumbers in with his usual lackluster stride, and near limp. Years of competition have battered his knees and though still mobile, he is certainly not a young man anymore. He takes a few steps inside the office toward the reception desk where a young conservatively dressed woman sits attending to normal office duties. At the sight of this rag tag man she pops out of her seat to greet him.

“Mr. Watson, very glad to see you … Mr. Klein is waiting in his office; you can go right on in!”

Kevin gives her no more than a slight nod, never slowing and continues his walk toward the back.

The scene quickly cuts to the inside of a normal office. The walls are lined with diplomas, plaques of achievement, and decorative pictures and objects. A modest desk, cluttered with various office supplies, sits in the center of the room just in front of a prestigious bookcase filled with an assortment of leather bound books, and decoration. Kevin enters though the open door to see the office seemingly empty.

“S***!”

The sudden outburst and clutter of plastic DVD cases tumbling to the floor draws Kevin’s attention to the far side of the room.

On the floor, just below a television and DVD set up resting on one knee, is a familiar figure who appears to be Klein. He fumbles with the aforementioned cases in attempt to stack them back up in the proper place. He catches a glance of Kevin standing near the door, hopping to his feet he sets a few cases down, next to the rest of the massive collection.

“Kevin, good … to … see you, my friend! How is life treating you?”

Kevin responds as he takes a seat, “You to tell me.”

Klein laughs of the comment, and quickly fires back, “Not too bad, my friend … not … too … bad!”

“Cats are coming out the wood work like there is no tomorrow! It’s crazy. No more than two full days after the press conference and there are already over twenty confirmed participants ... and that’s not even including the four champions ...”

Klein pauses briefly, “… and they’re burning up the airwaves! At least fifteen spots in the past two days. Most of all, Troy Windham, but we’ll get to that later! Cats like Kevin Powers have yet to even speak! It’s getting very interesting.”

Kevin pulls a pack of nearly crushed pack of cigarettes and lighter from his jeans’ pocket. He flicks his lighter and puts flame to a single cigarette from the roughed up pack.

Klein continues on, “This is going … Kevin you can’t sm … forget it!” Excited “This is building up to be one of the, no … no … no … THE biggest professional wrestling event in the history of the business! And yours truly, Jackson Klein has secured YOU … Kevin … K-9 Watson, a spot on this very show!”

Kevin questions Klein, “Wasn’t it announced as an open contract?”

“Kevin, Kevin, Kevin … that’s neither here nor there! It’s not important!” Klein quickly retorts. “What is important, is you cut a promo! You need to make your presence known!”

“Incessant rambling, and mindless ****-talking you mean …” mumbles Kevin.

Klein thinks for a moment and fires back, “No, no … well yes! To an extent. You’ve got to make it exciting! It’s got to be entertaining, and all that jive. You know the game, Kevin the spots put the asses in the seats!” Thinking, “You know? … You could do a compelling third person narrative or some overdone descriptive bull****!”

Kevin confused, “… huh?”

Moving on, “I, I don’t know, I’m just saying you can do anything you want! I’ve got already to go; Cindy out front can give you the specifics, you just have to hit the studio and let the magic happen!” a slightly befuddled Klein answers. “Now for the discerning news … I can’t in all good consciousness send you into a cut a promotional spot without SOME knowledge of what has been going on, and what has been said. So … there …” Pointing at the large stack of cases, “that stack of DVD’s compiles every piece of footage shot in the CSWA since the announcement on Sunday; these should bring you up to par!”

Klein pauses for a moment as if to think up a witty comment to lighten the blow after dealing Kevin such a heavy load, “You can start with what I like to call … the Troy Series.”

“Not very tactful, but entertaining none the less. So …” a little apprehensive to what Kevin’s reaction may be, “I’ll leave you to your ‘work’.”

Jackson Klein cuts the television on and hits the lights as he slips out of the room. Kevin reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small silver flask. He spins, then pops the top and begins to sip. When not sipping he holds the flask close to his face with his elbow propped up on the arm of the chair as his face and upper body flicker and shine from the flow of the television. He brushes his long hair up out of his face, and takes another sip of his flask.

Fade to Black.

 

[Peter Lenex]

Title: Blood Brothers

[The scene opens up on the patio of an outdoor café. Patrons go to and fro, sitting down or passing by, but the one man who grabs out attention is none other then the “God of War” Peter Lenex, sitting all alone at his own table, a glass resting in front of him. He is wearing black pants, a black T-Shirt, and his customary black trench coat as he checks his watch for the time. He looks up, back to where he was looking, and smiles.]

Peter Lenex: “Nice of you to make it, Thomas. Thought for a minute you weren’t going to show up.”

[A man is making his way toward Lenex, and they extend hands and shake. The man is the brother of Peter Lenex, Thomas Bryant.]

Thomas Bryant: “What? And miss the opportunity to catch up with my blood? Never.”

[Both men take a seat.]

Peter Lenex: “So, I take it you’ve heard.”

Thomas Bryant: “Yeah, heard it through the grapevine from Brad. Do you really think you can do this?”

Peter Lenex: “I’ve got to give it a try. It’s not as though I have anything else to hold me back right now. I needed to find a place where I could showcase my talent, and maybe gain a little bit of attention.”

Thomas Bryant: “I guess you have a point. But I only have one question, Pete.”

Peter Lenex: “Shoot.”

Thomas Bryant: “How do you know nothing about the CSWA? You’ve literally grown up around it.”

Peter Lenex: “Well, you know how the past goes. Nothing ever seemed to go right, so I never really noticed it. And when I did get into wrestling, it was the UWO that opened its doors for me.”

Thomas Bryant: “Well, more like the Dark Lord opened the doors for you.”

Peter Lenex: “Never speak of that. He may have got me started, but he takes too much credit.”

[Thomas orders a drink.]

Thomas Bryant: “I guess you’re right. Though, he’s gone now. Last I heard he sunk back up to Canada and hasn’t been heard of since the Art of War wrapped up.”

Peter Lenex: “Good. The father he is away from me, the better my chances are in this Gold Rush match.”
Thomas Bryant: “I guess you can look at it like that.”

Peter Lenex: “Well, Thomas, I also look at it like this. I am entering this thing as the dark horse. No one has ever heard of me or of the UWO. For the most part, every man entered in this thing has his or her own grudges to settle on a personal level, something to stroke their egos. Everyone seems to have an enemy in this match. Everyone except me.

“And that, my dear brother, is my true advantage. That is where I may my stake. While everyone else is trying to behead their foes, I’ll simply come in and clean up the scraps that have been left behind. It’s as simple as that.”

Thomas Bryant: “Well, man, I’m pulling for you. I mean, I’ve seen what you have been able to do first hand, and frankly, it’s quite bone-chilling. I know that half of the guys in this thing, and even the females, probably couldn’t give a rats *** about the UWO or what you did there. But I think I can safely say that your accomplishments there will NEVER be repeated.”

Peter Lenex: “Well, if you ask Troy Windham, the answer is different.”

Thomas Bryant: “But this thing isn’t all about him, is it?”

[Lenex takes a sip of his drink, while Thomas’ order arrives.]

Peter Lenex: “You are definitely right. There are a dozen and more other men that I need to worry about. There’s no telling who I’ll end up in the ring against. I need to be prepared for everyone and everything. Though, I hope to God that I end up in a ring with a champion in it, and not that fourth ring. The open challenge ring.”

Thomas Bryant: “Well, that wouldn’t be so bad. If you win the open challenge, you can simply re-challenge the CSWA Unified champion if you lose. Then, you can get him fresh on fresh, and none of this battle royal beforehand.”

Peter Lenex: “Good point.”

Thomas Bryant: “And come on. No one can boast the past that you have. How many can say they’ve been a part of and won three Ghost Town matches? Who can say they were involved in two War Games matches? Who can tell the tales of a Helloween in a Cell? Who here even knows what a Van de Graff Inferno match or a Fire and Water match TRULY is? No one other then you.”

[Peter sighs.]

Peter Lenex: “Unfortunately, accomplishments like those only make me seem like a pitiful wimp to them. They think that I need to rely on what I’ve done then what I could do.”

Thomas Bryant: “They’re just the unfortunate ones who never had the experiences you did. Hell, half of the guys in this thing speak about being part of federations for one, two, three years. You were a dominating force for five years. Five years that no one will be able to steal from you. You have what it takes, Pete.”

Peter Lenex: “Thanks. I knew you had my back.”

[Thomas nods his head, as he finishes his drink, and then checks his watch.]

Thomas Bryant: “Hey, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I need to go pay my respects while I’m nearby.”

Peter Lenex: “Pay mine as well. Ryan was a good man. Just a shame William had to come in and mess with his head.”

[The two men stand up, and shake hands once again. Thomas turns and exits the scene as Peter sits back down. After taking a sip from his drink, he puts it back on the table.]

Peter Lenex: “My brother is right. How many of you can boast the matches that I have been through? How many of you can say that at times, you actually were afraid that your life would end in one of those matches. By no means are any of those that Thomas listed a breeze. All of them take balls to fight. All of them take all the courage that even a thousand armies couldn’t muster. Fighting in the harshest deserts or Arizona. Fighting among a thunderstorm with a raging inferno blazing around you. Being thrown into scalding hot water.

“Though, as I sit here and say that, I can probably name off a handful of you who will try to prove me wrong. A dozen or so, maybe, who will try to point out all the hardcore matches you have gone through. You may even go to the extreme, and bring up fictitious matches that couldn’t even work. Maybe even piecing together bits of everything you’ve done. So be it. You know the truth, and you would only be cheating yourself if you chose to mask your truthful past with some lies that you manage to conjure up.

“How does that relate to a match like this? Simple. Once you’ve done all that I have, a battle royal seems futile. A battle royal is the easiest thing in the world compared to everything else. But you still don’t care about all of that.

“All you care about are your past feuds. Your past battles, your losses, you titles. All you care about is the exact same thing you denied me of having credibility of. All you care about is Troy Windham. Look deeper, folks. This isn’t just about Troy anymore. You have twenty or so men all vying for a chance to rip his head off. Focus on them. Focus on those who you should be worried about.

“Like the God of War. Sure, you see me as a joke now, and even Miss Queen of the Ring likes to poke fun, but you have yet to experience the true ferocity of Peter Lenex. You have yet to REALLY see what I have up my sleeve. And that, my friends, is something that I will use to my advantage.”

[Lenex takes a deep breath of air as he looks around.]

Peter Lenex: “Following suit, let’s run down the participants, to see what each one holds. To see who is a carbon copy, and who is a genuine man. To see who thinks they are a teacher, and who thinks they are that up-and-coming student.

“JA, I’m glad to hear you don’t have hate for me, and I thank you for the advice, though it will not be needed. You see, I do things the way that I want to do them. I don’t fall into the cliches that everyone else does. I don’t follow the herd, I carve my own path. You think what I do is a piece of ****, then fine. Pay no attention. Just don’t be surprised when I stand in that ring holding YOU Greensboro title high into the air. Don’t be surprised when I am standing in that ring holding THE Unified title high, with both hands. I will not let you get me down.

“If anything, you’re little rant has fueled me. All that you had to say has only helped stoke the fire for the next blazing wildfire. My list of titles was never meant to be something for you all to fear, it was merely me stating how experienced I am in the wrestling world. How I am not some rookie stepping into a new place to try and get an early start. It was meant to be a little bit of a learning tool for all of you looking for your ammunition.

“But you, JA, took it the wrong way. You interpreted it to be a bragging right when it wasn’t. Can I give you respect for that? No. Will I ever? Oh, **** no. You are just another man who has fallen down into the ranks of enemy. Another man who has fallen into the radar. There may not have been words of hate from you now, but later on, I expect them. I expect you to fire out all the hate you can muster. I enjoy that sort of thing, J. I enjoy watching my opponents seethe with rage for something that didn’t even have a good foundation.

“It just makes their defeat that much sweeter.”

[Another sip of his drink. As he puts it down, we can hear that it’s almost empty.]

Peter Lenex: “To the others, it seems like a generic breed. We have the mask wearing man trying to be his other half to get into a match that the true him was banned from. We have men wearing masks to make themselves look tough, to make them look unbreakable. There are the egos that can barely fit through the doors. The men who speak SO BIG that they can barely get up in the morning. Oh, you know who you are. Xias, the Jay’s, and the good Prof. There are the typical loners who try to act abused and emotional to hide their true colors. Trust me, Xion, it’s not worth it.

“I tried it, and it didn’t work out. I went the seclusion route, but after awhile, you just feel the need to burst forth and blow up in someone’s face. My only question is, that if you lived in those so-called mountains so long, how do you know so much about the city? How can you be so comfortable around people so quickly? I don’t buy it one bit. Your charade can end whenever you feel like it.

“And just to stroke his ego, I will give Mr. Windham the attention he craves. You seem to talk a mighty big stick, Troy, but I have yet to see anything of you in the ring. And if you fight the way you speak, then your ring will be filled with ****. You want me to prove it to you? To give you something that has yet to be done to you in God knows how many years? Then I will. I will defeat you inside of your ring after I waltz in through the others. I will destroy you single handedly and prove to you that The God of War is more then just another man walking in to keep warm and dry.

“Mock me all you want, Troy, but when the Anniversary comes around, you will be singing a completely different tune. So, enjoy that title while you can. Maybe even travel a bit, get away from the SAME New York backdrop. Get away from the SAME boring thing over and over again. Take your own advice and do something to benefit yourself. Because if you don’t, you just look like the ignorant fool who can not practice what he preaches.

“So, to all of you out there who are trying your hand in the Ultimate Gold Rush tournament, keep trying, because I can promise you that this will not be an easy task. Pray to your Gods for some sort of salvation, but it will be all for naught. There is only one God who will hear your prayers.

“And that is The God of War. You will ask for salvation, but in response, I will just look down on you and say..

“**** you.”

[Lenex stands up, leaving some money on the table and then walks away, in the same direction as Thomas. The scene slowly fades out as the waiter comes over to grab his pay.]

 

[DBrunkGXW]

FADE IN....

Dan Ryan's Alter Ego sits on a long bench in a beautiful park somewhere, greenery and flowers so lush you'd think it was a Joey Melton dream sequence.

DRAE looks around a bit, thinks about how gay this all is - then sees some random homeless man getting beat up by a mugger, and feels a little more heterosexual about it all.

DRAE settles in and relaxes, and drops the shades down over the eyes....

DRAE: "So, JA. This is an odd play for you, don't you think?"

"You just spent a good full minute or more talking specifically about me and about all you had to say was that I haven't beaten Troy Windham yet. I don't have his belt yet, and I have yet to best him. Well hell, and I thought Mr. Tremendous was the professor around here. I'm glad I have you here to tell us these things."

"You're the C-3PO of the CSWA, Captain Obvious."

"So tell me big guy - when did you get the job as Troy Windham's public relations rep? Hmm? Or is it official nutsack washer-slash-licker?"

"What in the living hell does Troy Windham so far having the upper hand on me, and by the way, you as well....have to do with the fact that you don't have the slightest chance in hell of coming out of this match as Unified World Champion?"

"Look, I'm gonna be nice to you despite the fact that you suddenly lost your *******ed mind."

"I think we both know there's a big gap between the Unified World Champion and 'some fugazi off the street' as you put it. You have your talent, but you're not Troy Windham and you're not me. In fact, last I checked - on pay-per-view I had five guys and one girl in the main event, and Jay-Ay wasn't one of them. Don't get all pissy with me just because you choose to pick fights with people who can barely be bothered enough with you to even show up to the show."

"And besides, the last....and ONLY time you held a World Title, I believe you lost it practically before the first commercial break on the next show and then descended into a downward spiral so consuming that you were dragged away in a straight jacket last show. Or am I imagining things?"

"Furthermore, for someone like you to make any comments about me I would think first you'd have to have not taken so many shots at the A1E World Title and failed so many times in winning it to the point of practically retiring a million times because you just couldn't ever 'get your dream' before finally winning it and losing it in the time it takes for a Melton-Troy quickie"

"So take your little digs at getting under my skin some other time, like say when you've done enough s**t in this business to have the credibility to say it. And maybe the next time you come begging for me to help save your ass against the Highland Park Social Club, I just won't give enough of a s**t to do it."

"As for the match in front of us, all you have to do is step up to me front and center there, big shot. You want a piece of me? Bring your big mouth on over, and I'll slap you upside the head so hard the letters on your name'll flip around and we'll all be calling you AY-JAY for the next ten years, complete with full phonetic pronunciation."

"In the meantime, have yourself a Lollipop and shut the F**k up."

"And Peter Lenex, you didn't go unnoticed. Do I seem generic to you? Oh how I weep for my future with Peter Lenex not being impressed by wittle ol' me."

"Tell ya what, Pete - you have no idea what I've been put through to come to this point. Do you have something you wanna say to me? Then say it. Otherwise, keep my f**kin' name out of your mouth."

"Then of course, there's my dear Lindsay."

"Lindz, I love ya and all - but don't threaten me. Stay out of your way? Oh no, hun. I think it's in your best interest to stay out of mine. Cuz ya know what? We ain't family right now."

"By virtue of being in this match, you already are in my way."

"If you're having thoughts about gettin' cutesy in there, all you're guaranteeing is a very very awkward Christmas this year."

"If you want your shot at Troy, then take it - but stay the hell away from me, because when I get into that middle ring, whoever is in my path I'm taking out. No chances, no mistakes. They all go down."

"Eli, I'll save some words for you later but rest assured you're finally gonna get your wish - because if you want me at my best and at my absolute most well focused, you're gonna get exactly that."

"The rest of you? I don't give a damn about you. Don't care where you've been, who you are, what you plan on doing. This belt is rightfully mine, and I'm taking it. I don't care if you like it or not. You can't do a thing about it."

"But please.....do try."

FADE OUT....​

 

[DizzaHizza]

KIN HIROSHI: "What the hell is going on?!?"

** Kin Hiroshi grips his CSWA US title close, and nervously looks around him. **

KIN HIROSHI: "I just won this damn thing from Hornet, and now, NOW, it's ripe for the pickings? ANYONE could take it?!?

"Bulls**t.

"See, while everyone is gunning for Mr Windham, the TRUE CSWA Unified Champion, and a damn good one too, everyone seems to be forgetting about people like me: the OTHER CSWA champions.

"Not only do we hold gold here in the 'Dubya', but we are the gate keepers to Troy. Everyone thinks they are going to just toss a few people here, pin a few people there, and BLAMO: Troy Windham on a platter.

"Not so, my friends.

"Wait, did I say friends? I don't know half of you. I mean, I see Dan 'RoidRage' Ryan and Lindsay 'Mangina' Troy lurking around. Then we have a few Power Rangers, Lo-Pan from 'Big Trouble in Little China', two of the three stooges, oh, and my personal favorite...

"...a Muffin Man.

"Gentlemen, and Lindsay Troy: if you want Windham half as bad as I think you do, then you're going to have to assert twice as much effort in the ring with me as you have half-assed it in the past.

"Savvy?

"I didn't work this hard, and screw over this many people just to lose my title. OH NO! You think Kevin Powers would appreciate all the hard work that he has put into getting this title around my waist? Do you think Hornet or Steve Radder or any other name that I could drop to make me seem important would look kindly on someone who can be signed to a CSWA contract and strip me of a title the aforementioned so badly want?

"I mean, it seems that CSWA is desperate; inhaling one last breath before it all goes out. We're signing bag-ladies and vagrants for a shot at the most coveted title in the history of our sport!

"While Troy is a bit of a vagrant, himself, this underminds those of us who have stuck with this company through thick and thin. I could get all sentimental and start saying, 'Remember the days when Evan Aho was champion?', but then half of this influx would have no clue who I'm talking about, because they didn't deserve the shot to be here back then, and they don't deserve the shot now.

"Troy, don't think this is just about holding onto my championship. I'm in this thing just like everyone else, and I'm going to be standing in that final ring with you. It doesn't matter if I have to go through Thomas to get there.

"I'm tired of having Hornet and Radder plotting some sort of revenge (you lost the title, H, let the dream die), I'm ready to have the whole f**king roster plan my demise.

** FADE TO BLACK **

 

[User Poets]

FADEIN: The crack'a noon in the Bronx. Camera is set up by the window, the sounds of a day starting behind the view. Eli Flair looks like he's been awake for about twenty minutes at best.

"Angel told me I should go heavy - handed in this match. Let y'all know who's who, where everyone belongs. It's the GOLD RUSH, but just like any kind'a rush, most'a the people involved are gonna be left behind."

He cracked his knuckles.

"She's a great singer and she's got a good head for business... but Angel doesn't know about professional wrestling. The day I completely dismiss one'a the kids in this match is the day that kid drops this old man on his ass."

"See, I can't forget how it was when I broke into the sport. Bunch'a guys, wrestling for UNIFIED and World Championships, no time t'stop and look around, and see what the next generation had to offer. At the extreme end of the spectrum was Doc and his buddies who not only held onto their spots with a deathgrip, but actively campaigned against everyone who might so much as be booked opposite them."

"I learned how t'play the game, and how t'get t'the top... but I never forgot about the boys I passed who were on the way down, or the ones I overtook on the way up. And I've made a career on not playing the political games."

"This business ain't based on age or experience - it's based on how far you're willin' t'go, and how much you're willin' t'sacrifice. JJ DeVille proved that you're never too young to beat a legend, just like Joey Melton proved you're never too old to be a legend. But I really think a lotta the competitors in this GOLD RUSH could take a cue from JJ. He didn't come off with an ego three sizes too big for his talent. He didn't come off with ridiculous attitude about the things he's done. He was honest about where he started, how he worked his way up, and what he wants t'get outta this match."

"You could take a cue from JJ DeVille, mister God of War. I know, you're proud of your career and what you've accomplished so far, and you have a right to be... But you also need t'stop and look around. Five years in a promotion is a pretty big deal, but not in this case. The matches you name-dropped to illustrate how they don't matter... really don't. I'm sure you had t'be tough to win 'em, but that's why we're all here."

"We all won s*** like that, multiple times. Troy and I split a series of matches that ninety percent of the wrestling world will never be able to duplicate. But those don't matter because we all have 'em."

"But it's not fair to just pick on you, Pete. I don't know you. I don't know a lotta these guys. The ones I do... fair game."

"The rest'a you? Same thing I've been sayin' for a dozen years now. Either stop me or shut the f**k up."

FADE

 

[GreggG]

FADEIN: The crack'a noon in the Bronx. Camera is set up by the window, the sounds of a day starting behind the view. Eli Flair looks like he's been awake for about twenty minutes at best.

"Angel told me I should go heavy - handed in this match. Let y'all know who's who, where everyone belongs. It's the GOLD RUSH, but just like any kind'a rush, most'a the people involved are gonna be left behind."

He cracked his knuckles.

"She's a great singer and she's got a good head for business... but Angel doesn't know about professional wrestling. The day I completely dismiss one'a the kids in this match is the day that kid drops this old man on his ass."

"See, I can't forget how it was when I broke into the sport. Bunch'a guys, wrestling for UNIFIED and World Championships, no time t'stop and look around, and see what the next generation had to offer. At the extreme end of the spectrum was Doc and his buddies who not only held onto their spots with a deathgrip, but actively campaigned against everyone who might so much as be booked opposite them."

"I learned how t'play the game, and how t'get t'the top... but I never forgot about the boys I passed who were on the way down, or the ones I overtook on the way up. And I've made a career on not playing the political games."

"This business ain't based on age or experience - it's based on how far you're willin' t'go, and how much you're willin' t'sacrifice. JJ DeVille proved that you're never too young to beat a legend, just like Joey Melton proved you're never too old to be a legend. But I really think a lotta the competitors in this GOLD RUSH could take a cue from JJ. He didn't come off with an ego three sizes too big for his talent. He didn't come off with ridiculous attitude about the things he's done. He was honest about where he started, how he worked his way up, and what he wants t'get outta this match."

"You could take a cue from JJ DeVille, mister God of War. I know, you're proud of your career and what you've accomplished so far, and you have a right to be... But you also need t'stop and look around. Five years in a promotion is a pretty big deal, but not in this case. The matches you name-dropped to illustrate how they don't matter... really don't. I'm sure you had t'be tough to win 'em, but that's why we're all here."

"We all won s*** like that, multiple times. Troy and I split a series of matches that ninety percent of the wrestling world will never be able to duplicate. But those don't matter because we all have 'em."

"But it's not fair to just pick on you, Pete. I don't know you. I don't know a lotta these guys. The ones I do... fair game."

"The rest'a you? Same thing I've been sayin' for a dozen years now. Either stop me or shut the f**k up."

FADE

(CUT TO: "The Big Man On Campus" JJ DeVille, wearing an old-style blazer with the NC State logo on it, is sitting on a campus quad, with a trig textbook next to him.)

JJ: You would not believe how hard Trigonometry is. I have my Summer II finals coming up, and acing this exam is going to be a lot of hard work. But I peeked up enough from my studies to see Eli Flair not just mentioning me on TV, but also paying me a compliment.

Eli, first, let me say that it truly is an honor to have a man of your stature in this sport, a man of your ability, to take the time out of his busy schedule to talk to me. Not that I'm putting myself down -- far from it, now. But you are, in fact, a living legend and someone that I have a lot of respect for.

But, (JJ says this derisively) FLAIR... let's not forget something else. You were in the locker room when I was just some punk kid nobody, in his unfortunate Daisy Duke shorts and his Bad Medicine tour tank-top. That same locker room that laughed at me as I unknowingly degraded myself. Did you, Flair, Respected Locker Room Leader, the man above the political game, come up to me and tell me that, perhaps, I wasn't doing things the right way? Did you ask to take me under your wing? Eli... we both know that you were just like all the other guys in the back -- laughing at the poor kid with no clue.

In retrospect, I'm glad that things went the way I did. I'm glad that Eddy Love and Troy Windham... they're the ones who took me in. No offense, Flair... but they're certainly a lot cooler than you and... no offense... they also proved themselves to be better wrestlers than you, too. They're the ones I learned from, which made me into who I am today. And like you said before, Eli... I am someone who has proven he can beat a bonafide legend. I have grown from a man who couldn't even get one move on "Luscious" Lance Leizure to the last man to pin Troy Windham in a CSWA ring.

Eli Flair, I know that I'm the ultimate Cinderella story. I know that I am the George Mason University of this field. I might not make it to the final ring. I might not win a CSWA title and I might not be able to give my former mentor another shock. But I will promise you this, Eli Flair... (JJ smirks.) IF THAT IS INDEED YOUR REAL NAME... I'm going to end up shocking a lot of people and tossing them out of this Gold Rush. And if I'm in the same ring as you, Eli... I look forward to making you my latest scalp... and beating another legend. (FTB)

 

[User Poets]

(CUT TO: "The Big Man On Campus" JJ DeVille, wearing an old-style blazer with the NC State logo on it, is sitting on a campus quad, with a trig textbook next to him.)

JJ: You would not believe how hard Trigonometry is. I have my Summer II finals coming up, and acing this exam is going to be a lot of hard work. But I peeked up enough from my studies to see Eli Flair not just mentioning me on TV, but also paying me a compliment.

Eli, first, let me say that it truly is an honor to have a man of your stature in this sport, a man of your ability, to take the time out of his busy schedule to talk to me. Not that I'm putting myself down -- far from it, now. But you are, in fact, a living legend and someone that I have a lot of respect for.

But, (JJ says this derisively) FLAIR... let's not forget something else. You were in the locker room when I was just some punk kid nobody, in his unfortunate Daisy Duke shorts and his Bad Medicine tour tank-top. That same locker room that laughed at me as I unknowingly degraded myself. Did you, Flair, Respected Locker Room Leader, the man above the political game, come up to me and tell me that, perhaps, I wasn't doing things the right way? Did you ask to take me under your wing? Eli... we both know that you were just like all the other guys in the back -- laughing at the poor kid with no clue.

In retrospect, I'm glad that things went the way I did. I'm glad that Eddy Love and Troy Windham... they're the ones who took me in. No offense, Flair... but they're certainly a lot cooler than you and... no offense... they also proved themselves to be better wrestlers than you, too. They're the ones I learned from, which made me into who I am today. And like you said before, Eli... I am someone who has proven he can beat a bonafide legend. I have grown from a man who couldn't even get one move on "Luscious" Lance Leizure to the last man to pin Troy Windham in a CSWA ring.

Eli Flair, I know that I'm the ultimate Cinderella story. I know that I am the George Mason University of this field. I might not make it to the final ring. I might not win a CSWA title and I might not be able to give my former mentor another shock. But I will promise you this, Eli Flair... (JJ smirks.) IF THAT IS INDEED YOUR REAL NAME... I'm going to end up shocking a lot of people and tossing them out of this Gold Rush. And if I'm in the same ring as you, Eli... I look forward to making you my latest scalp... and beating another legend. (FTB)

JJ, do you know how many people passed through those doors down at the M*****T Auditorium? If I learned everyone's name and took everyone under my wing, I'd never've had the time t'wrestle my own matches. You weren't ignored, JJ, you were treated like anyone else. And while you're certainly a legitimate threat in this GOLD RUSH match, you could've easily been another Space God.

Then again, so could any of us.

I've never claimed to be a locker room leader. Just because I can do business with someone doesn't mean I'm gonna be their friend. I decided early on I could do business with you, but your hookin' up with Eddy 'n Troy was proof positive that we'd never be friends. But you're cool, JJ... you do your job and y'do it well, and y'never fail to give the fans a show. Just remember, this is business.

And like anything else, my scalp is something y'gotta earn.

 

[GreggG]

(CUT TO: JJ DeVille, the former personal assistant to Playboys Inc, and a former Greensboro and CSWA World Tag Team Champion. He's put on a lot of muscle mass from his days as the skinny lackey running around -- well defined chest and measurable biceps. JJ is also wearing Rivers Cuomo nerd glasses and a "Snakes On A Plane" T-Shirt. He's carrying textbooks, walking in front of the NC State basketball arena in Raleigh.)

JJ: Y'know, it seems like yesterday, but it wasn't that long ago. Here I was, a college dropout who decided to try and live his dream. I grew up outside Greensboro and used to go to the Merrit Auditorium to see all the shows. Get all the autographs. The whole nine yards. All I ever wanted to be was a professional wrestler. I kept on going to CS Towers, and every time I got laughed out of the joint. Too skinny. Too small. No formal training. Not marketable with my then taste in hair metal. But eventually, I got my foot in the door. I could grab a prelim match, maybe a mic-spot or two.

I remember the first time I stepped foot in the locker room. All these guys I see wrestling all the time... and me. And then there was a buzz... a feeling of electricity... and a gaggle of the hottest girls you ever saw in your life. There I saw my two all-time favorites -- The Southern Dandy, The Hurricane, Eddy Love and his partner in crime, the Boy Troy, Troy Windham.

I mustered up my strength and steeled my nerves. I went up to them introduced themselves, and in front of the entire locker room, told them that they were my favorites, and I would do anything to be a part of their team.

They laughed at me. My permed hair. My really tight jean shorts. They started laughing at me like the rest of the locker room. But then they said 'Sure, kid. We'll give you a shot.' They wanted to prove a point to everyone else in the back -- that they could turn me, the most hopeless geek to ever enter a dressing room, into a star.

I wasn't too proud of what I did. The self-degradation. The chores. The lawsuits and the constant humiliation, all done to obsequiously please Eddy Love and Troy Windham, my mentors. I carried the bags. I washed the cars. I took shots from their opponents and got tossed on my head. I tried using karate as a weapon, and the entire time, I was the biggest laughingstock in the sport.

But along the way, Eddy and Troy taught me well. The training sessions with the two best wrestlers alive. How to get a girl's panties off. How to do an interview. How to get over. How to conduct yourself as a champion, as an elite member of this industry.

I gained courage and learned how to wrestle. I picked something up from anyone I ever faced until the man who was laughed at as he called himself The Lethal Weapon became JUST THAT -- a bonafide force to be reckoned with, and a man who scored the pinfall victory procuring the tag team titles with Troy Windham.

Troy, you remember that, don't you? It was finally my time to shine, and you no-showed a card to tend to your family business. I can respect that. But you broke your commitment to me and I had to face the <> Cutters by my lonesome, two skilled ring technicians capable of really hurting me. Which they did, rupturing a disc in my back.

I battled through it, just like you taught me, and called you out the next week. I wasn't going to let you push me around and chump me anymore. You slapped me in my face, and then we had a match. You played around, not taking it seriously... and then I MADE you respect me. I pinned you, 1-2-3, in the middle of the ring in front of the entire world. I handed you the last loss you've had in a CSWA ring. It was my name getting chanted, it was me leading the singalong to Weezer and it was me who stole the show.

That's where my story ended. I had surgery and decided to head back to school. My mom, she always wanted me to get a college degree, something she never had the opportunity to do. And here I am, the Big Man On Campus at NC State, invited to all the parties, dates every night, and I even made Dean's List.

But I got wind of this open tournament and decided to cast my lot. It wasn't just my dream to be a CSWA wrestler... it was my dream to be the champion of this promotion, to be the best damn wrestler on the planet.

So here I am. Troy Windham, my old friend, you've got the Big Gold, and the right to call yourself the best in the world. I don't care who steps in my way -- any of these jokers and clowns who have no idea what to expect in a CSWA ring, the greatest promotion in this sport. You're all going to get to know me real quick. The kid who didn't go to the prom. The kid who never had a date. The kid in the Daisy Dukes and with the Andrew Ridgley perm... He's moved on and has become The New Original, The Big Man On Campus. I'm the ultimate Cinderella story, the George Mason of the field. And I'm going to walk out with everyone chanting my name one more time, as I become a World Champion.

(FTB)

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, in his state-of-the-art Advance Video Room in his North Shore Oahu compound, holding his CSWA Unified Title.)

TROY: JJ! You don't call, you don't write. I gotta say, my man, I've missed you, in that annoying puppy sort of way. It was nice having you around, carrying my bags, making sure my cheese platter's all sorted out, that kind of stuff. And, in all honesty, it was good seeing you come of age. Eddy and I, we picked you to work for us for a reason -- we wanted to see if we could turn **** into something. That was one of the biggest accomplishments I've had -- to take you, this skinny, scrawny, virgin who used Karate Kid moves and to transform you into a Weezer-loving Big Man on Campus capable of pulling tail... and of, as you've told everyone who will listen, beating me.

JJ, you and I both know at that what you did was nothing more than a fluke. I'll give you credit where credit is due. You brought your A-game to that match, you came at me and brought everything I taught you... and even more than that. There's no doubting what happened, JJ. You pinned me, 1-2-3.

A lot of my critics are going around calling me an attention whore. We all know that... (Troy smirks.) They're right. But, JJ, that night you beat me, I stepped aside, raised your hand and let the crowd, for the first time in your career, chant your name.

Just know, JJ, if I wanted to... I could have snapped your neck and sent you back to the misery you crawled out of.

JJ, again, I'm going to be honest with you... I'm going to be just like the rest of America, and pulling for you to shock some folks, toss some unexpected people out of the ring... and I hope you make it to the final ring against me. I'll be pulling for the BMOC, the Ultimate Cinderella Story.

But JJ, that's where it's going to come to an end. Because I'm going to end your run and toss you to the floor. But don't feel bad, kid. George Mason didn't win it all, either.

 

[GreggG]

(FADEIN: A beautiful grassy field with plush hills and valleys.)

(MUSIC UP: “Glory Of Love” – CHICAGO)

(CUTTO: A knight on a courageous white steed riding into frame.)

Tonight its very clear
As were both lying here
Theres so many things I want to say
I will always love you
I would never leave you alone

(CUTTO: The Knight throwing his right hand up in the air and stopping the horse on a dime, ten feet from camera. The mighty beast bellows then rears back on its hind legs.)

Sometimes I just forget
Say things I might regret
It breaks my heart to see you crying
I dont wanna lose you
I could never make it alone

(CUTTO: The knight dismounting and running towards the camera with his javelin poised for attack.)

I am a man who will fight for your honor
Ill be the hero youre dreaming of
Well live forever
Knowing together that we
Did it all for the glory of love

(CUTTO: Lindsay Troy in a white wedding dress running across a grassy field. She’s stunning. The new Princess Buttercup.)

Youll keep me standing tall
Youll help me through it all
Im always strong when youre beside me
I have always needed you
I could never make it alone

(CUTTO: Joey Melton in Knight’s armor running towards Lindsay. He tosses the Javelin aside. Bum Bum Bum Ba Ba Ba.)

I am a man who will fight for your honor
Ill be the hero youve been dreaming of
Well live forever
Knowing together that we
Did it all for the glory of love

(CUTTO: Lindsay and Melton running towards each other, so close! Re-u-nited and it feels so good! Troy dives into Joey’s waiting arms! Both arms wrapped around her, Melton spins Lindsay around carelessly. The high is expected to be 85 degrees today.)

Just like a knight in shining armor
From a long time ago
Just in time I will save the day
Take you to my castle far away

(CUTTO: Melton grabs the back of Troy’s head and kisses her deeply, dipping her perilously close to the Earth. What a woman. Nay. What a man.)

I am a man who will fight for your honor
Ill be the hero youre dreaming of
Were gonna live forever
Knowing together that we
Did it all for the glory of love

(CUTTO: Melton and Troy on a trampoline in their backyard. Wheeeee.)

Well live forever
Knowing together that we
Did it all for the glory of love

(CUTTO: Lindsay and Joey Tango dancing in the CSWA Hall-of-Fame.)

We did it all for love
We did it all for love
We did it all for love
We did it all for love

(CUTTO: Joey Melton asleep in a chair in front of a CSWA ANNIVERSARY ’06 backdrop.)

VOICE: Joey! Mr. Melton!

(Melton keeps snoozing. “I am a man….”)

VOICE: My Lord!

MELTON: (stirs) WHAT? No, crush the pickles Alfred. Then spread them over the soy like minced onions. Where the ****?

VOICE: Sorry, sir. You nodded off.

MELTON: How long have I been out?

(Former CSWA powerplant worker “Downtown” Daryl Kegan and current cameraman walks into frame. Daryl is a small kid. 5’9, triple digits soaking wet. Kegan helps Joey off the chair.)

KEGAN: Asleep or relevant?

MELTON: Asleep you irritant. And I have relevancy dammit. It’s right here in my back pocket… (Joey fishes for his wallet but comes up with a choice finger for the kid. BURN!)

KEGAN: I was joking, sir. Rudy told me jab with you. Says you’re like an old horse that needs to be run once during the day before being forced to breed.

MELTON: Hey, I wish I was forced to breed. Somewhere in a bank locker is an old script I penned a few years ago with roughly the same premise.

KEGAN: (laughs) I bet.

MELTON: Sorry for nodding off. Between my life becoming a spec episode for “Without A Trace” and the man who usually writes my promos being late…I’m lost here.

KEGAN: Mister Melton. Let me cut the promo.

MELTON: Kid I don’t think anyone will believe you’re me. I’ve seen you train with those nut huggers on. You could barely pass for a steady ballpoint pen.

KEGAN: (enraged) You know how much I hate Troy Windham! What he did to me! Look, I knows I ain’t allowed to wrestle. The doctors don’t have to keep remindin’ me of that. But just once I want to look into a camera, KNOW Troy’s watching and tell him to **** off! Tell him he can go to sweet hell for what he did to me. For the dream that he took away!

MELTON: Whoa. That’s about a Nine on the tension scale there Albert.

KEGAN: (Daryl ignores Melton and looks directly into the camera with STEELY eyes. He’s about to unleash a promo he’s DREAMED of cutting on Troy Windham. That SNAKE IN THE GRASS!) JULY 14TH! 2005! Does that date ring a bell? (if not kids, just click here: http://www.cswawrestling.com/archives/2005/all/EEkEFZlyZyAQrDweeY.shtml ) Of all the gin joins in all the world…why Troy did you have to piss on mine? Why did you…

MELTON: And cut. (Joey nudges Kegan out of the way.) If you’re going to cut a promo on the herpial disaster, try this. Dissolve fade in 3….2…

(beat)

MELTON: You know how I know you’re gay Troy? Because you shoved your balls in my face on regional television. Because the best part of you waking up every day wasn’t ****ing Folgers in your cup, it was dreaming of ways to get me to taste you. For Joey Melton the man who ****ing CREATED THIS COMPANY. THAT BELT! To drink the KOOL-AID. You tried to disgrace me out West, but luckily I had two things going in my favor.

1) I’ve had another man’s balls in my face before. Kinda lessens the shock and awe.
2) Nobody ****ing watches NFW. The tree fell in the forest and nobody heard.

I know it must have been tough growing up in Sweetwater, Texas. Hell it’s tough just getting that sentence out. Worse, you grew up a Windham. I’m sure you can empathize with dumb *****es who have to live through battered wife syndrome. You never had a chance, to be anything but a Texan.

One day as a teen you turned on U-62. Maybe you were looking for “Tiny Toons” originally. They’re Tiny. They’re Toony. They’re all a little loony. Yeah, you wanted animation that made you forget about life as Troy Windham but you found the CSWA. You found your brother’s workplace when he DEMANDED you never look. And what did you see Troy? You saw Joey Melton. You saw a true KING lording over his people. You saw a man of class, of dignity, of color. You saw the anti-body to what life in Sweetwater must have been. And you got a little moist didn’t you?

You watched as I cut a promo, as I showed a slide show of all the finer things in life I had at my possession. You saw the Melton limo. The five thousand dollar Italian shoes, taken off my feet, and being used to BEAT some poor sod. And you snaked a hand under your Sweetwater High gym shorts and you played to the beat of your own drums, didn’t you Troy?

You’ve creamed your pants for nearly twenty years at the mere THOUGHT of being me. And now you’ve taken it too far. I was fine with playing Mr. Moose. Rinse, repeat, boil…and I was fine. But you, Troy, you put your hands on my girl. NOBODY touches Melton’s girl!

The fact of the matter is Windham. Thomas doesn’t want me here. Hell, I don’t want to be here, because the brick and mortar I broke my back to throw up have been torn down. That title in your hands can be bought on cswawrestling.com and mean just about as much. You beat GUNS. You out lasted Hornet.You profited as I drank my way out of this business. You fought all your life to be King for a day, only you were crowned when Rome fell.

Listen to me closely, tapeworm. I’m not doing this to reclaim what’s mine. You’re fighting 100 men? Great. I won this belt from Ryan in a pressroom. Beat that. I’ll be in Greensboro because nobody’s ever slapped you across the face and told you what CAN’T be had. Nobody’s ever told you “no” Troy.

Until now.

You’ve been sucking my balls from day one, Windham. On the 27th, you’re going out on the street to find your own game.

(FTB)

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, with his CSWA Unified Title and sitting in his state-of-the-art television studio.)

TROY: Awww, looky looky. How the mighty have fallen. Joey Melton, the Prince of New York, the King of Carolina... reduced to nothing more than impotent blowjob jokes while doing a pale imitation of my masturbation riff on Lindsay. Joey, I'm not gay just because you suck dick. In fact, you should be thankful that a man in my place gave you even the sweat off his balls, considering that you were caught trying to steal cold pills from a Tallahassee Wal-Mart in the not-so-distant past. Joey, you enter that ring, I will **** you in the ass just like I'll be doing to the trimmed bush harlot you call your girl... aka my lawfully wedded wife... at my Around The World victory party. (FTB)

 

[EpyonMarx]

Mad dogs and Dragons step out into the midday sun

[FADE IN. A river, the water quite a ways down on the usual level, as the record heat of summer beats down indiscriminately on all foolish enough not to stay indoors, windows wide open, curtains drawn, and air-conditioning turned all the way up. The lack of recent rainfall means even the grasses are showing the strain, bent limply, dried and parched. There are no trees to offer shelter from the sun, but one man stands by the water’s edge. Even the mad dogs are staying out of the sun today, but one man dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt is turned, his back to the camera as it passes. As we draw nearer, we recognise the back of the current Empire Pro Wrestling Intercontinental Champion, staring out across the water, his arms folded across his chest. The one submission to the elements he’s made is to wear a pair of sunglasses - black-tinted, hiding his eyes and protecting them from the glare from the river. He doesn’t even bother to turn to the camera right away, content to stand in-profile for us as he delivers his message]

Karl: It’s not too many years ago I used to come down here at this time and it looked very different. There’s been no development, but the summers are getting hotter, the sun shining more brightly, and hose-pipe bans are affecting great swathes of the country. From the lush countryside I knew, to this - it’s a shame, but times change, and we either have to change with them or step aside.

[Karl turns towards the camera with a sigh]

Karl: I suppose some people are wondering who I am - and others are probably wondering why. For those that care, I’m Karl Brown. If you want an idea of what I can do in the ring, there are plenty of DVDs with my matches on. Look for the first few MCW shows, back in two thousand and three, as well as pretty much every Empire Pro Wrestling and National Wrestling League show. You won’t go far wrong finding those, and everything else is just a quick search away. What you see on those tapes is all you need to know about who I am.

As for why I am, the short answer is I’m not here for titles, or revenge, or trying to relive old glories. I’m here because it’s a rare opportunity - a chance to go head to head with some of the greatest this industry has to offer all in one night, and to see where I stand - a chance to see if I’ve reached another plateau in my career, or if I’m still working towards it. If it’s the former, I’ll be able to see where the next plateau is. If it’s the latter, then I’ll know how much harder I have to work. If I manage to win a title through this event, that’s an added bonus, and will be a physical representation of where I stand right now. From there, whether my path leads forward, or will double-back on me, I don’t know. What I do know, and will tell you all for nothing, is that you shouldn’t expect any flashy theatrics. You shouldn’t expect someone running in hot-headed because someone’s gotten under my skin. You shouldn’t expect me to do anything less than my best when the bell rings - because that’s where it counts. The little snide remarks, the sideswipes, the attempts at humour - they mean about as much as a paperclip.

And they’re far less useful.

But, there are some familiar names here. There are people I’ve faced, some with falls over me, the majority without. There are some names I’ve been in the same company as and never faced, and some who are still there who I’ve been hoping one day to face. No, I’m not going to give a comprehensive list. We’d be here a while, seeing as how Dan Ryan likes to give people opportunities. Right now, I’d rather just address three people, starting with Lindsay Troy.

A little rattled, Lindsay? I can understand your frustration. I understand you’re in this match to get revenge on Troy Windham, and you don’t need me to tell you to keep your head and not let him rile you. The first thing I want to do is actually to congratulate you on your win at Unleashed. You did something I must admit to having doubts about - you were able to keep your title against five people who were hungry to prove themselves. That’s now two elimination matches you’ve outlasted me in, and I applaud and respect you for that.

But now the pleasantries are dispensed with, here’s the deal for this tournament. I know you’re in it primarily for revenge, and I can respect your desire for it. If you and I both make the centre ring, I’ll gladly let you go after Troy Windham. I’ll gladly let you take him out. And if you and I are drawn in the same starting ring, I’ll be more than happy to let you go after him still - once you’re eliminated, I won’t really care if you decide to head straight for the centre ring and wail away on him for as long as you want. Your desire to hurt and humiliate a man who thus far has done the same to you is none of my concern. I sincerely hope though that you will remember to keep your head, because I want to test myself in this match against people who are giving it their all - physically and mentally. As you proved at Unleashed when you saved Joey Melton a couple of times, you don’t always do things to make your life easier, dependant on your emotions. I very much doubt anyone buying the excuse “It had nothing to do with emotions” - because that’s what people would expect from you. You let your feelings for Joey cloud your judgement, and it could very well have cost you - you were lucky that it didn’t. If you make the same mistake, making rash decisions because you’ve got your mind so focused on Troy Windham, then you’d better hope I’m not in the same ring as you. People who get emotional make more mistakes, and you’ve seen first-hand that one on one you don’t want to make mistakes with me around. By all means be angry with him if you want - but not until it’s you and him face to face. If you let your anger run away with you, you’re more likely to find yourself dug into an even deeper hole, because you fell, once again, for the mind-games of someone who needs to use the crutch of reused material to beat his opponents.

Yes, Windham. I’m talking about you. Kidnapping, drugging, and marriage against someone’s will? I wasn’t impressed when I saw that back in the nineteen nineties. Tea-bagging opponents? I wasn’t impressed when I saw the same person do that a couple of years earlier. I was equally unimpressed when I saw someone unmask as the leader of their own little Ministry. I could go on and on, listing instances from your career I’ve seen in other promotions, each pulled off a lot better than you did - but I won’t, because we’d be here all day. All you’ve ever done is rehash material, changing it ever-so-slightly to avoid having to pay for breach of copyright, and for what? To try and seem relevant? To try and get into people’s heads because that’s the only way you can beat them?

Looks like, in me, you’re in for a tough time. I’ve seen people far better at getting under an opponent’s skin - ask Lindsay about Mind****er and his attempts at the same thing. I paid what he said as much attention as I’m going to pay what you say. I might listen to your words, and I may even laugh at the jokes - but the one thing you won’t be able to do is get under my skin. And the simple reason is this - there’s very little that can get under my skin. Scripted humour, cheap theatrics, claims of how you’re going to have your way with a wayward Chihuahua after you find the Viagra tablets again - it’s cute, and it may get someone people’s attention. Unfortunately for you, I know it’s all just mind-games. I know it’s really an attempt to get under the skin of your opponent, to unsettle them and make sure they’re not thinking one hundred per cent clearly when they set foot in the ring with you. I also know why you do it.

Because you know you have to unsettle them, as facing them at their best is going to show everyone just how poor you really are in the ring.

Yes, you’ve got a title that may be the envy of the industry. I don’t know - I’m me, and no-one else. I can safely say that belt doesn’t mean a lot to me, and won’t unless I actually won it. Yes, you’ve done a lot in this business - but you know full well you can’t keep going forever. Deep down you know that the show you put on, the Troy Windham you show the world, is merely a mask. A disguise. You have doubts about yourself and your abilities - you fear that you’re not as good as you say you are, that there are younger, hungrier wrestlers who could overturn you and tear you from that comfortable throne you’ve set yourself upon. And any advantage - any advantage whatsoever - could help you stay there. That’s why you try to unsettle your opponents. If they’re not thinking clearly, they’ll make mistakes, and that’s when you hit the Slacknife. When they make a mistake, you pounce - that’s what you’re good at. Waiting for the mistake you helped create in the weeks leading to the match, and seizing the opportunity. Not that that’s a bad thing - you obviously have a keen mind to be able to do that.

But the one flaw is you need to be able to get your opponent rattled first. They have to be at less than one hundred per cent. They have to be emotional. They have to make more mistakes than usual.

Believe me, you won’t find that from me. So, you can do everyone a favour - mature, lose the juvenile humour. Stop stealing from old tapings of other promotions. Admit you’re not as good as you claim, and start trying to be half as good as you claim. Because your mind-games won’t work on everybody, so spare the fans from having to listen to them and trust to your own wrestling ability.

If you think you actually have any, that is.

And that just leaves one more person I want to talk to. A man I’ve wanted to wrestle since mid two thousand and four, and have yet to have the privilege.

Dan Ryan. The guy who signs my regular pay cheques.

What can I say about Ryan? Having never wrestled him, I can’t comment on how strong he is. I know full well he’s no dummy - as he’s already said, he has a keen business mind. And from watching tapes of his career over the last few years, it’s clear what he can do in the ring. All I can really say is simply that if I get the chance to face him in this match, I’m going to enjoy every second of it. There’s little else you can do in a match like this - with the possibilities involved. With the chance to face some of the best from across the industry, who you might never work with again. And Dan Ryan’s name is pretty high on that list - I don’t see him lacing up his boots in Empire Pro, because he doesn’t need to. He doesn’t need to be the star of his own company, because he’s more than content being the star of other shows, letting the rest of us bring in the fans to line his pockets.

Yes, I know that sounds like I’m brown nosing the guy. In reality, it’s more that he and I have yet to cross paths in the ring, and he’s done nothing to merit anything other than respect. He knows from watching me that I won’t just lay down, and I’ve seen enough of his matches to know he won’t either. The only two things I could comment on are him ordering me to take time off last year, for which in hindsight I’m actually thankful, and the other is him handing Viktor Molotov a slot in the TEAM finals - for reasons of his own, I’m sure. Would he have the Chad Merritt trophy? We’ll never know. Whether pundits like it or not, he didn’t make the final. In no way did him giving Molotov the win denigrate the match I went on to have.

No. I’m just looking forward to getting the opportunity to test myself against him. Like I said at the outset, that’s why I’m here - to continue my battle against the only opponent who can ever truly defeat me. Myself. If I manage to win a title, good. If I manage to win the UNIFIED title, so be it. If I don’t, and that is very much a possibility, I won’t lose any sleep over it. I won’t let it eat at me, and it won’t cause me to start doubting myself - because the moment I do that, I may as well quit. The moment that self-doubt creeps in, I lose. If I win the belt, then likewise, I won’t let it affect me. I’ll have an extra title belt to carry round - if I let that nurture my ego, I may as well quit, because I’ll have lost. Letting your ego get the better of you is every bit to be avoided as self-doubt - it makes you susceptible to mistakes. The only way to limit mistakes, because they’ll always occur no matter what - is to be a realist. To know your limits, and push beyond them. To know how good you are, and not let yourself be rattled. It’s like this place - it’s withering, the river is drying, and the ground is parched. But it knows its limits, and it knows that the rains will return - and if they don’t, it won’t worry, because there’s nothing it can do about it.

The same with me. I won’t worry about whether or not I’ll win the title, because either I will, or I won’t. If I do, all well and good. If I don’t, there’s no need to worry, because worrying won’t change the fact. I’ll know how much further I have to go to reach the next fertile plain - the next plateau or the next spell of rain. If I never reach any higher than I already have though - I’ve had a good run, and I won’t be worried.

Come the twenty seventh of August, I’ll be able to see just where I am. Revenge doesn’t matter to me, because I’ve no-one to seek revenge on. Titles won’t matter to me, because that’s not the be-all and end-all of my existence. Just the challenge of beating myself in the life-long struggle. That’s all that matters.

I wonder how many people are going to try their petty insults on me?

[Karl turns back to the river, as a duck, trying to cool down, dips itself as far underwater as it can, before resurfacing, the water running straight off its back. Karl smiles at the amusing coincidence. FADE OUT]

 

[Nova]

Windham's Shades Make Flava Flav's Chest-Clock Look Like Paris Hilton's Prada Bag!

Nova sits at his desk, cigarette burning in the ashtray, and checks his e-mail. I wish I had a more entertaining first sentence here, I really do.

“Let’s see here…,” Nova says to himself as he adjusts his glasses, “free penis enlargement…free penis enlargement…free penis enlargement…penis, penis, penis…wait, what’s this?”

His eyes scan the screen for a moment, and then widen. “Oh…oh, my God! Dude!”

Looking around the room, he realizes there is no one to share his sudden excitement with…so he turns to his Mikhail Gorbachev bobble-head doll. “Dude, Gorby, listen to this ****:

‘The CSWA has announced that the Main Event for its CSWA ANNIVERSARY 2006: Coming of Age PPV will be an open challenge called the ULTIMATE GOLD RUSH MATCH!’ DUDE! ‘You are invited to enter for a chance to win not only the UNIFIED World Championship, but any of the three other CSWA championships as well. This is a LEGITIMATE shot for your character to win the oldest and most prestigious title in wrestling away from current champion Troy Windham!’”

Nova turns to the bobble-head, his arms outstretched and a huge grin on his face as though he’s expecting a monster reaction from his audience. When he receives none, his eyes narrow and he points an irritated finger at the bobbling former Soviet premier. “You better get excited about this in a hurry, Gorbs. This is big ****. This is the CSWA, broheim. They’ve been around for, like, two thousand years or something!”

Cut to the Roman Coliseum. Jesus and the Barbarian circle one another.

Billimax Buckliamus: The Barbarian lunging forward with a clothesline here, and NO! NO! The Savior of the World ducks under and now He is peppering the Leader of the Horde with lefts and rights!!

Sammicus Bensonius: Thy enthusiasm is unwarranted, Citizen Billimax!

Billimax Buckliamus: Indeed, as the Barbarian is retaliating, but Jesus ducks under AND HE’S GOT A SPIKED MACE AND CLUBBETH THE BARBARIAN IN HIS ABDOMEN!

The Barbarian steps back as blood squirts out of several holes in his stomach. Jesus raises his arms and wiggles his fingers, and suddenly the Barbarian discovers…

Billimax Buckliamus: THE WINE-INTO-WATER! JESUS JUST HIT THE WINE-INTO-WATER, AND IT’S GUSHING OUT OF THE BARBARIAN RIGHT NOW!

The Barbarian collapses, and Jesus drops for the pin…One…Two…THREE!

Billimax Buckliamus: JESUS HAS DONE IT AGAIN! HE’S THE SON OF GOD, AND STILL CSWA WORLD CHAMPION!

Sammicus Bensonius: Awwww, shucksimus!

Nova stares back at the screen. “CSWA…wow…a personal invite, Gorbs. Do I still need to stress how friggin’ heinously sweet this is?”

The Gorbachev bobble-head continues to nod slowly, so Nova elaborates further. “My name must really be getting out there! I mean, no one knows who I am around CSWA’s neck of the woods! It’s all ‘Troy Windham, Eli Flair, Beef, El Janito, we’re sure glad we don’t have some loony whack-job like Nova around,’ though I don’t know if they ever actually said that! But now they’re taking the time to look up MY e-mail address, send ME an e-mail inviting ME to win lots of chronic-ass championships and stuff! You dig, my man? You dig what I’m trying to tell you?”

He stares at the bobble-head for another moment before a disappointed frown replaces his smile. He slides back the chair, grabs his jacket, and stomps towards the door, stopping only to give the doll one last glance. “Gorbs…you’re a terrible ****ing listener.”

Nova jogs down the steps and pushes open the front door to his apartment building, breathing deep the sweet, sweet air. It smells like recognition. It smells like opportunity.

“HELLO, WORLD!” Nova declares happily, “YOU’RE LOOKING AT THE NEXT CSWA UNIFIwhat the ****?”

He stares in confusion at the scene around him. Pieces of paper rain down from the sky. They sit in soggy piles pushed to the side of the road. They’re stuck to every surface in sight. Nova grabs one out of the air and reads it:

The CSWA has announced that the Main Event for its CSWA ANNIVERSARY 2006: Coming of Age PPV will be an open challenge called the ULTIMATE GOLD…

“DUDE!” Nova protests aloud, “DUDE! I…I…DUDE!”

He looks around in disbelief. A dog trots by, a flier plastered to his fur. A group of street thugs pass, all holding the fliers and talking about their plans to dominate the GOLD RUSH match. The Rising Star’s heart sinks, and he sits down on the curb, dejected.

“I dunno…maybe I should just stick this one out. I never seem to click with this crowd.”

Our hero steps into an empty white room, the nametag on his breast reading “Nova.” He sits down in a folding chair opposite a man with combed brown hair whose nametag reads “FW.”

“Hi! I’m Nova,” the Rising Star exclaims amiably, “from PTC!”

“Hi.” The man says. “I’m FW.”

They give each other the non-sexual once-over, and Nova scratches his beard. “Uh, I’m from…”

“PTC, yeah, you said,” the man replies.

They look at one another for a moment…awkwardly (and you KNOWS that **** is the worst).

“Ummm…you, uh, you wanna smoke a joint?” Nova asks.

“No.”

“Eh.” Nova shrugs, feeling the pavement from the curb biting into his ass. “**** it. Let’s roll.”

 

[TH]

Re: Mad dogs and Dragons step out into the midday sun

"Really, Rhino, you ought to reel in your Alter Ego Buster. He might get you into some trouble."

Back to the PCL II, this time, by the pool. I really don't give two flying f*cks about setting anymore, really.

JA: Seriously Alter Ego Buster, I know it might seem silly throwing around threats like that, seeing as you've got five percent of a ton on me in the weight department and the length of your average porn star's cock on me in height, but speaking of the phallus, never let it be known that my balls aren't worth five percent of a ton themselves. Graphic, I know, but they don't give points for holding it back. I'm sure Danny Boy told you that somewhere along the line, right?

But what he didn't tell you was how I was going to handle you throwing all those borderline outrageous comments at me. Yeah, a lesser man would ball up and cry. Just throw the fact that cops have cups of coffee that last longer than my sole World Championship reign and you think you got me. Well... I... I did like the feel of my... Preciousssss... yesss... around my waissst...

Shakes his head.

JA: Whoops, relapse. Anyway, yeah, it sucks, and yes, whenever I'm there at their shows and in their arenas, I feel it all around me. It closes in on me, and yeah, I throw tantrums, act like Gollum and let the men in white wrap me up like a Gee-Eye Joe Missile Command Center on Christmas morning. But when I get away... it centers me, much like when Randall Graves takes his go-carts for a ride.

Don't get the reference? Well then, just go plunk down some of your hard earned cash and see Clerks II.

Cut to a quick shot of Kevin Smith rolling in a pile of $100 bills.

KS: Yeah, go see it! Today!

Cut back.

JA: Kev, I hope that check's in the mail.

*ahem*

Annywayyyy, Alter Ego Buster, you should tell your Superego... Ego... Id... God, I was always horrible at psychology. But yeah, you should go back and tell the Rhinosaur that he of all people should know that your circumstances change in each different place you work, that Aye-One-Ee Aye-Jay, as you like to call me, is a little bit different from this Aye-Jay who're both different from the one who works for the real Rhinosaur's company.

In fact, this is just the kind of match I need. It's a perfect getaway, I don't have to deal with all those mooks who work for Natey Houston and his Freakshow and other personalities. I don't have to hear the Godfather movie reject go off ad nauseam about how much of a fairy I am. I just have you, telling me I'm not good enough for your alter ego's, hrm, I guess he'd be the master ego... Christ this sh*t's screwing me up. But yeah, I'm just some pretender, just because I wasn't in his little main event at the last pay-per-view he ran, because I've only won one World Championship to the Rhinosaur's four-hundred and eighty-billion plus pi, rounded out to the sixty-eighth decimal place.

Well, when your master ego is in the business for more than double the time I've been in it, of course he's going to be able to pull that card on me. Let's check back in another five years and compare. It probably won't be too far off, and it's definitely going to include at least a run or two in his own company. The only reason I haven't taken it yet is because I had to take care of my fam.

That's right, Alter Ego Buster, I actually take care of things when my woman is in danger. Shawna Jessica Bubbles Hart, he messed with me on a personal level. When that happens, you take care of business. I don't care how much other stuff is going on in your life, you take care of business. I sent him back from the pool of whale semen and toxic waste whence he came, and I did so with ease. So what if he barely showed up in the approach? You take that as a weakness. I see it in a different way. Ol' Bubbles was so sparse because he was scared sh*tless. He knew that if he crossed me after messing with me, I was going to damn near snap his legs. I've got that kind of aura.

It's the kind of aura that made good ol' "All-Natural" put me in main events of his shows. I mean, if I was just this grand pretender, there's now way a match between myself and Shane Stevens could have anchored his flagship. There's no way that he'd put my match with Grandfather Jo-Jo on last if he didn't at least subconsciously believe I could carry my end of the bargain. If he didn't, no matter all the steroid-aided bluster, he would have put that match somewhere near the beginning with it taking a backseat to Jo-Jo doing his best Peter Cetera impersonation to his stolen bride.

He knows I'm good, Alter Ego Buster. He knows I'm coming to take his shot away, that I'm using this as my vaulting board into the true elite. He knows that I was able to do something he hasn't in the last year... get the upperhand on Troy Windham-Troy. It doesn't take me being one of the Epitome of Jackassery's toadies to figure it out. I'm just pointing out the facts when I say he's outwrestled your better half and outwitted him as well. But I've done something no one in this match has been able to do so far.

I've shut him up. Seriously, he knows he's got nothing on me, so he focused himself on the sh*thead angsty posers like Hagar the Horrible and that dude whose name begins with an Ecks. You know, the easy targets.

So, if you could, Alter Ego Buster, let Rhinosaur know that he can try to do all the nasty things he's said he was going to do to me. Let him know that I'm not about to back down, even though he's got half a deuce on me and could probably rip my taint from between my nutsac and my asshole cleanly if he ever got a hold of me. But the thing is, he may never get a hold of me, because while folks like He-Troy, She-Troy and whoever else in this match who isn't a raving steroid abuser may be quick... but I'm sudden. And I have experience in this sort of thing, y'know, dodging really big roidheads and hitting them guerilla style in clusterf*ck situations. Since we're playing the Aye-One-Ee card so much, just let him know that I did it there too, and I can do it here.

Before I go though, Peter Fedex, your rage is cute, but really, get over yourself. It's not that I don't get you, it's just that you're a generic douche who's cut from the same cloth as every Ivan Totraininbang who jerks his cock over the titles he's won. Now I'm supposed to be scared because I misunderstood and you're going to break me? Please, it'll take more than that to make me wet my pants, although something inside me thinks you'd like that too much. Gross. But what I can guarantee is that after this match, you can take solace that the same number of people who were impressed with your resume before will still be impressed after.

And that number's a big fat zero.

Fade to the CSWA logo.

 

[GreggG]

Re: Mad dogs and Dragons step out into the midday sun

"Really, Rhino, you ought to reel in your Alter Ego Buster. He might get you into some trouble."

Back to the PCL II, this time, by the pool. I really don't give two flying f*cks about setting anymore, really.

JA: Seriously Alter Ego Buster, I know it might seem silly throwing around threats like that, seeing as you've got five percent of a ton on me in the weight department and the length of your average porn star's cock on me in height, but speaking of the phallus, never let it be known that my balls aren't worth five percent of a ton themselves. Graphic, I know, but they don't give points for holding it back. I'm sure Danny Boy told you that somewhere along the line, right?

But what he didn't tell you was how I was going to handle you throwing all those borderline outrageous comments at me. Yeah, a lesser man would ball up and cry. Just throw the fact that cops have cups of coffee that last longer than my sole World Championship reign and you think you got me. Well... I... I did like the feel of my... Preciousssss... yesss... around my waissst...

Shakes his head.

JA: Whoops, relapse. Anyway, yeah, it sucks, and yes, whenever I'm there at their shows and in their arenas, I feel it all around me. It closes in on me, and yeah, I throw tantrums, act like Gollum and let the men in white wrap me up like a Gee-Eye Joe Missile Command Center on Christmas morning. But when I get away... it centers me, much like when Randall Graves takes his go-carts for a ride.

Don't get the reference? Well then, just go plunk down some of your hard earned cash and see Clerks II.

Cut to a quick shot of Kevin Smith rolling in a pile of $100 bills.

KS: Yeah, go see it! Today!

Cut back.

JA: Kev, I hope that check's in the mail.

*ahem*

Annywayyyy, Alter Ego Buster, you should tell your Superego... Ego... Id... God, I was always horrible at psychology. But yeah, you should go back and tell the Rhinosaur that he of all people should know that your circumstances change in each different place you work, that Aye-One-Ee Aye-Jay, as you like to call me, is a little bit different from this Aye-Jay who're both different from the one who works for the real Rhinosaur's company.

In fact, this is just the kind of match I need. It's a perfect getaway, I don't have to deal with all those mooks who work for Natey Houston and his Freakshow and other personalities. I don't have to hear the Godfather movie reject go off ad nauseam about how much of a fairy I am. I just have you, telling me I'm not good enough for your alter ego's, hrm, I guess he'd be the master ego... Christ this sh*t's screwing me up. But yeah, I'm just some pretender, just because I wasn't in his little main event at the last pay-per-view he ran, because I've only won one World Championship to the Rhinosaur's four-hundred and eighty-billion plus pi, rounded out to the sixty-eighth decimal place.

Well, when your master ego is in the business for more than double the time I've been in it, of course he's going to be able to pull that card on me. Let's check back in another five years and compare. It probably won't be too far off, and it's definitely going to include at least a run or two in his own company. The only reason I haven't taken it yet is because I had to take care of my fam.

That's right, Alter Ego Buster, I actually take care of things when my woman is in danger. Shawna Jessica Bubbles Hart, he messed with me on a personal level. When that happens, you take care of business. I don't care how much other stuff is going on in your life, you take care of business. I sent him back from the pool of whale semen and toxic waste whence he came, and I did so with ease. So what if he barely showed up in the approach? You take that as a weakness. I see it in a different way. Ol' Bubbles was so sparse because he was scared sh*tless. He knew that if he crossed me after messing with me, I was going to damn near snap his legs. I've got that kind of aura.

It's the kind of aura that made good ol' "All-Natural" put me in main events of his shows. I mean, if I was just this grand pretender, there's now way a match between myself and Shane Stevens could have anchored his flagship. There's no way that he'd put my match with Grandfather Jo-Jo on last if he didn't at least subconsciously believe I could carry my end of the bargain. If he didn't, no matter all the steroid-aided bluster, he would have put that match somewhere near the beginning with it taking a backseat to Jo-Jo doing his best Peter Cetera impersonation to his stolen bride.

He knows I'm good, Alter Ego Buster. He knows I'm coming to take his shot away, that I'm using this as my vaulting board into the true elite. He knows that I was able to do something he hasn't in the last year... get the upperhand on Troy Windham-Troy. It doesn't take me being one of the Epitome of Jackassery's toadies to figure it out. I'm just pointing out the facts when I say he's outwrestled your better half and outwitted him as well. But I've done something no one in this match has been able to do so far.

I've shut him up. Seriously, he knows he's got nothing on me, so he focused himself on the sh*thead angsty posers like Hagar the Horrible and that dude whose name begins with an Ecks. You know, the easy targets.

So, if you could, Alter Ego Buster, let Rhinosaur know that he can try to do all the nasty things he's said he was going to do to me. Let him know that I'm not about to back down, even though he's got half a deuce on me and could probably rip my taint from between my nutsac and my asshole cleanly if he ever got a hold of me. But the thing is, he may never get a hold of me, because while folks like He-Troy, She-Troy and whoever else in this match who isn't a raving steroid abuser may be quick... but I'm sudden. And I have experience in this sort of thing, y'know, dodging really big roidheads and hitting them guerilla style in clusterf*ck situations. Since we're playing the Aye-One-Ee card so much, just let him know that I did it there too, and I can do it here.

Before I go though, Peter Fedex, your rage is cute, but really, get over yourself. It's not that I don't get you, it's just that you're a generic douche who's cut from the same cloth as every Ivan Totraininbang who jerks his cock over the titles he's won. Now I'm supposed to be scared because I misunderstood and you're going to break me? Please, it'll take more than that to make me wet my pants, although something inside me thinks you'd like that too much. Gross. But what I can guarantee is that after this match, you can take solace that the same number of people who were impressed with your resume before will still be impressed after.

And that number's a big fat zero.

Fade to the CSWA logo.

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, holding his CSWA Unified Title, sitting in his state-of-the-art studio.)

TROY: JA, to claim to outwit me, you need to actually have wit. We all can see from your longwinded, overwrought tomfoolery that is something that absolutely do NOT have. And to have outmatched me in a wrestling ring means you actually have had to defeat me. I've given everyone I deem actual competition more than 500 of my words -- you're going to stay right where you're going to be,, at the 100 word mark. (FTB)

 

[GreggG]

Re: Mad dogs and Dragons step out into the midday sun

[FADE IN. A river, the water quite a ways down on the usual level, as the record heat of summer beats down indiscriminately on all foolish enough not to stay indoors, windows wide open, curtains drawn, and air-conditioning turned all the way up. The lack of recent rainfall means even the grasses are showing the strain, bent limply, dried and parched. There are no trees to offer shelter from the sun, but one man stands by the water’s edge. Even the mad dogs are staying out of the sun today, but one man dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt is turned, his back to the camera as it passes. As we draw nearer, we recognise the back of the current Empire Pro Wrestling Intercontinental Champion, staring out across the water, his arms folded across his chest. The one submission to the elements he’s made is to wear a pair of sunglasses - black-tinted, hiding his eyes and protecting them from the glare from the river. He doesn’t even bother to turn to the camera right away, content to stand in-profile for us as he delivers his message]

Karl: It’s not too many years ago I used to come down here at this time and it looked very different. There’s been no development, but the summers are getting hotter, the sun shining more brightly, and hose-pipe bans are affecting great swathes of the country. From the lush countryside I knew, to this - it’s a shame, but times change, and we either have to change with them or step aside.

[Karl turns towards the camera with a sigh]

Karl: I suppose some people are wondering who I am - and others are probably wondering why. For those that care, I’m Karl Brown. If you want an idea of what I can do in the ring, there are plenty of DVDs with my matches on. Look for the first few MCW shows, back in two thousand and three, as well as pretty much every Empire Pro Wrestling and National Wrestling League show. You won’t go far wrong finding those, and everything else is just a quick search away. What you see on those tapes is all you need to know about who I am.

As for why I am, the short answer is I’m not here for titles, or revenge, or trying to relive old glories. I’m here because it’s a rare opportunity - a chance to go head to head with some of the greatest this industry has to offer all in one night, and to see where I stand - a chance to see if I’ve reached another plateau in my career, or if I’m still working towards it. If it’s the former, I’ll be able to see where the next plateau is. If it’s the latter, then I’ll know how much harder I have to work. If I manage to win a title through this event, that’s an added bonus, and will be a physical representation of where I stand right now. From there, whether my path leads forward, or will double-back on me, I don’t know. What I do know, and will tell you all for nothing, is that you shouldn’t expect any flashy theatrics. You shouldn’t expect someone running in hot-headed because someone’s gotten under my skin. You shouldn’t expect me to do anything less than my best when the bell rings - because that’s where it counts. The little snide remarks, the sideswipes, the attempts at humour - they mean about as much as a paperclip.

And they’re far less useful.

But, there are some familiar names here. There are people I’ve faced, some with falls over me, the majority without. There are some names I’ve been in the same company as and never faced, and some who are still there who I’ve been hoping one day to face. No, I’m not going to give a comprehensive list. We’d be here a while, seeing as how Dan Ryan likes to give people opportunities. Right now, I’d rather just address three people, starting with Lindsay Troy.

A little rattled, Lindsay? I can understand your frustration. I understand you’re in this match to get revenge on Troy Windham, and you don’t need me to tell you to keep your head and not let him rile you. The first thing I want to do is actually to congratulate you on your win at Unleashed. You did something I must admit to having doubts about - you were able to keep your title against five people who were hungry to prove themselves. That’s now two elimination matches you’ve outlasted me in, and I applaud and respect you for that.

But now the pleasantries are dispensed with, here’s the deal for this tournament. I know you’re in it primarily for revenge, and I can respect your desire for it. If you and I both make the centre ring, I’ll gladly let you go after Troy Windham. I’ll gladly let you take him out. And if you and I are drawn in the same starting ring, I’ll be more than happy to let you go after him still - once you’re eliminated, I won’t really care if you decide to head straight for the centre ring and wail away on him for as long as you want. Your desire to hurt and humiliate a man who thus far has done the same to you is none of my concern. I sincerely hope though that you will remember to keep your head, because I want to test myself in this match against people who are giving it their all - physically and mentally. As you proved at Unleashed when you saved Joey Melton a couple of times, you don’t always do things to make your life easier, dependant on your emotions. I very much doubt anyone buying the excuse “It had nothing to do with emotions” - because that’s what people would expect from you. You let your feelings for Joey cloud your judgement, and it could very well have cost you - you were lucky that it didn’t. If you make the same mistake, making rash decisions because you’ve got your mind so focused on Troy Windham, then you’d better hope I’m not in the same ring as you. People who get emotional make more mistakes, and you’ve seen first-hand that one on one you don’t want to make mistakes with me around. By all means be angry with him if you want - but not until it’s you and him face to face. If you let your anger run away with you, you’re more likely to find yourself dug into an even deeper hole, because you fell, once again, for the mind-games of someone who needs to use the crutch of reused material to beat his opponents.

Yes, Windham. I’m talking about you. Kidnapping, drugging, and marriage against someone’s will? I wasn’t impressed when I saw that back in the nineteen nineties. Tea-bagging opponents? I wasn’t impressed when I saw the same person do that a couple of years earlier. I was equally unimpressed when I saw someone unmask as the leader of their own little Ministry. I could go on and on, listing instances from your career I’ve seen in other promotions, each pulled off a lot better than you did - but I won’t, because we’d be here all day. All you’ve ever done is rehash material, changing it ever-so-slightly to avoid having to pay for breach of copyright, and for what? To try and seem relevant? To try and get into people’s heads because that’s the only way you can beat them?

Looks like, in me, you’re in for a tough time. I’ve seen people far better at getting under an opponent’s skin - ask Lindsay about Mind****er and his attempts at the same thing. I paid what he said as much attention as I’m going to pay what you say. I might listen to your words, and I may even laugh at the jokes - but the one thing you won’t be able to do is get under my skin. And the simple reason is this - there’s very little that can get under my skin. Scripted humour, cheap theatrics, claims of how you’re going to have your way with a wayward Chihuahua after you find the Viagra tablets again - it’s cute, and it may get someone people’s attention. Unfortunately for you, I know it’s all just mind-games. I know it’s really an attempt to get under the skin of your opponent, to unsettle them and make sure they’re not thinking one hundred per cent clearly when they set foot in the ring with you. I also know why you do it.

Because you know you have to unsettle them, as facing them at their best is going to show everyone just how poor you really are in the ring.

Yes, you’ve got a title that may be the envy of the industry. I don’t know - I’m me, and no-one else. I can safely say that belt doesn’t mean a lot to me, and won’t unless I actually won it. Yes, you’ve done a lot in this business - but you know full well you can’t keep going forever. Deep down you know that the show you put on, the Troy Windham you show the world, is merely a mask. A disguise. You have doubts about yourself and your abilities - you fear that you’re not as good as you say you are, that there are younger, hungrier wrestlers who could overturn you and tear you from that comfortable throne you’ve set yourself upon. And any advantage - any advantage whatsoever - could help you stay there. That’s why you try to unsettle your opponents. If they’re not thinking clearly, they’ll make mistakes, and that’s when you hit the Slacknife. When they make a mistake, you pounce - that’s what you’re good at. Waiting for the mistake you helped create in the weeks leading to the match, and seizing the opportunity. Not that that’s a bad thing - you obviously have a keen mind to be able to do that.

But the one flaw is you need to be able to get your opponent rattled first. They have to be at less than one hundred per cent. They have to be emotional. They have to make more mistakes than usual.

Believe me, you won’t find that from me. So, you can do everyone a favour - mature, lose the juvenile humour. Stop stealing from old tapings of other promotions. Admit you’re not as good as you claim, and start trying to be half as good as you claim. Because your mind-games won’t work on everybody, so spare the fans from having to listen to them and trust to your own wrestling ability.

If you think you actually have any, that is.

And that just leaves one more person I want to talk to. A man I’ve wanted to wrestle since mid two thousand and four, and have yet to have the privilege.

Dan Ryan. The guy who signs my regular pay cheques.

What can I say about Ryan? Having never wrestled him, I can’t comment on how strong he is. I know full well he’s no dummy - as he’s already said, he has a keen business mind. And from watching tapes of his career over the last few years, it’s clear what he can do in the ring. All I can really say is simply that if I get the chance to face him in this match, I’m going to enjoy every second of it. There’s little else you can do in a match like this - with the possibilities involved. With the chance to face some of the best from across the industry, who you might never work with again. And Dan Ryan’s name is pretty high on that list - I don’t see him lacing up his boots in Empire Pro, because he doesn’t need to. He doesn’t need to be the star of his own company, because he’s more than content being the star of other shows, letting the rest of us bring in the fans to line his pockets.

Yes, I know that sounds like I’m brown nosing the guy. In reality, it’s more that he and I have yet to cross paths in the ring, and he’s done nothing to merit anything other than respect. He knows from watching me that I won’t just lay down, and I’ve seen enough of his matches to know he won’t either. The only two things I could comment on are him ordering me to take time off last year, for which in hindsight I’m actually thankful, and the other is him handing Viktor Molotov a slot in the TEAM finals - for reasons of his own, I’m sure. Would he have the Chad Merritt trophy? We’ll never know. Whether pundits like it or not, he didn’t make the final. In no way did him giving Molotov the win denigrate the match I went on to have.

No. I’m just looking forward to getting the opportunity to test myself against him. Like I said at the outset, that’s why I’m here - to continue my battle against the only opponent who can ever truly defeat me. Myself. If I manage to win a title, good. If I manage to win the UNIFIED title, so be it. If I don’t, and that is very much a possibility, I won’t lose any sleep over it. I won’t let it eat at me, and it won’t cause me to start doubting myself - because the moment I do that, I may as well quit. The moment that self-doubt creeps in, I lose. If I win the belt, then likewise, I won’t let it affect me. I’ll have an extra title belt to carry round - if I let that nurture my ego, I may as well quit, because I’ll have lost. Letting your ego get the better of you is every bit to be avoided as self-doubt - it makes you susceptible to mistakes. The only way to limit mistakes, because they’ll always occur no matter what - is to be a realist. To know your limits, and push beyond them. To know how good you are, and not let yourself be rattled. It’s like this place - it’s withering, the river is drying, and the ground is parched. But it knows its limits, and it knows that the rains will return - and if they don’t, it won’t worry, because there’s nothing it can do about it.

The same with me. I won’t worry about whether or not I’ll win the title, because either I will, or I won’t. If I do, all well and good. If I don’t, there’s no need to worry, because worrying won’t change the fact. I’ll know how much further I have to go to reach the next fertile plain - the next plateau or the next spell of rain. If I never reach any higher than I already have though - I’ve had a good run, and I won’t be worried.

Come the twenty seventh of August, I’ll be able to see just where I am. Revenge doesn’t matter to me, because I’ve no-one to seek revenge on. Titles won’t matter to me, because that’s not the be-all and end-all of my existence. Just the challenge of beating myself in the life-long struggle. That’s all that matters.

I wonder how many people are going to try their petty insults on me?

[Karl turns back to the river, as a duck, trying to cool down, dips itself as far underwater as it can, before resurfacing, the water running straight off its back. Karl smiles at the amusing coincidence. FADE OUT]

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, cradling his CSWA Unified Title, sitting in his state-of-the-art television studio at his North Shore Oahu compound.)

TROY: Dan Ryan, can't you send a memo out to your roster or something to remind them that they certainly don't belong in a CSWA ring? The lowest 1/20th of your roster -- Carl. Just Carl. -- just tried to get in a verbal jab about me. Listen, sweetcakes, you're about the 90th person to say I'm unoriginal. From the looks of things, considering that I don't even know who you are, you sure seem to have a lot to say about Troy Windham. Really, I'm not in your head? You're coming off like the chick from Single White Female, there, Carl, with a C. And the CSWA Unified Title doesn't mean anything to you? Son, if you put your belt up for sale on e-bay, all you'd get is negative feedback. (FTB)

 

[xionexodus]

The scene opens with Xion standing in his flat talking to his new trainer Francis McGreggor after hearing what Troy Windham has said about him and his pursuit of the title.

Xion: Who does this guy think he is? He's nothing but a washed up chump if you ask me.

Francis: Xion, you can't let your anger get the best of you. Troy Windham is an expert in how to utilize it against you.

Xion: Forget that! He's just doing anything he can to try and get into my head and scare me off. Well I have news for him. I'm here to stay. Xion Exodus doesn't back down to any fight. I will prove to him and the world that he truly is weak. In the simplest term, Troy Windham is stupid. He may have fame, he may have money, he may be the UNIFIED World Champion. But Troy Windham is stupid.

Francis: Now don't go judging like tha-

Xion: Will you grow some balls and shut up for once! I don't need you to be my conscience for me. I don't care if I make him mad. I don't care if he continues to slander me. It fuels me. It makes me strive harder to beat him and show him what it is like to be human. If he is the god of wrestling that he says he is, e would have enough honor to face anyone who posted a challenge to him. But I say again, Troy Windham is scared and he's a coward. Why else would he try to get under everyone's skin?

Francis: Well, he does have a lot to show for himself.

Xion: It's a facade! He's putting it up so people don't view him as weak. But I see through it. I feed on the fear of others, and he's full of it.

Francis: Good! Now I have a starting point on how to get you prepared for the match.

Xion: How's that?

Francis: Simple, we let Troy Windham beat himself.

Xion: How so?

Francis: He is obviously trying to play a very strong mental game with every wrestler that has entered the Gold Rush Match. At some point, he's going to grow tired. There is still a very long time until the match, and not even "The Epitome" Troy Windham can keep up a mental game for that long. By the time the match comes, Troy will be mentally drained. It would be easy for anyone to over power him and destroy him.

Xion: I like it. It's so simple. Troy Windham is going to beat himself.

Francis: Not only that, but his pissing off everyone who has entered as well. When the four wrestlers make it to his ring, they are all going straight for him because he's been so cocky and so obnoxious.

Xion: I can use that to my advantage as well. I could possibly find someone willing enough to help me to get to him, and then we can crush him together.

Francis: Now you're starting to get it.

Xion: I must honestly say though, Troy Windham is slowly becoming the next Jake Savage in my book. If he keeps this up, I may have to take drastic measures to ensure he doesn't speak again. I really don't understand how one person could be so full of themself. I feel like I'm listening to a televangelist. How's that go? 'God is all knowing, God is all powerful, and God needs your money!' He's saying the same thing. 'I have money, I have power, I am almighty, worship me, but I'm to stupid for my own good and I'm a coward for not wanting to fight any one I deem unworthy.' What a crock of sh-

Francis: Hold up now. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's pace ourselves and keep our eye on the prize. Remember, you still have to make it through one match before you even get to Troy.

Xion: You're right. As soon as I find out who I have to beat to get to him, I'll have all my work cut out for me. Everyone will know the name Xion Exodus at the end of Gold Rush. They will feel it though thier bodys. Pain. Pain is coming for them, and pain is only the beginning.

 

[BWade]

Alone, again. Pt. III (The Seven Year Itch)

Open to: A small dimly lit room. A single light bulb swings from the low ceiling. The light dances back and forth across the cracked cement floor every so often throwing a shining light across a bleak image of the scarred and aging face of Kevin Watson slumped low into the corner. An abusive lifestyle has clearly taken a toll on Kevin’s appearance, from alcohol and drugs to Miso’s fire balls, and japans barbwire.


A black t-shirt stretches across his broad chest and stomach. His tattooed and scarred biceps show where sleeves would normally hang. A mural stretches from his shoulder down to his elbow ending in random offset places. His hair hangs low shadowing the majority of his face from cameras’ view.


His movement is slow and emotionless as he lifts his silver flask to lips. He draws a long sip before he speaks.


“It’s been a long time … a long time.”


He pauses to throwback another sip from the flask, and continues on.


“The Iceman himself … along with CSWA staff … sent me on a long walk of shame. The age old classic … loser leaves town. And more specifically … in my unfortunate, yet self-inflicted case … loser leaves, CSWA.


So for six, nearly seven years … I’ve walked a long hard road, a shameful and intolerable path for “has-beens’” … and “never-where’s’.”


From sold out arenas, and cruise ships … to high school gyms, and National Guard armories.


The lumbering decent of a champion …


Some would argue I never made it quite far enough, to have suffered such a great fall.


To them, I say …


I made a name for myself in the MWC and EWI… and more importantly …”
Kevin leans forward into the light to punctuate his forthcoming statements.
“I made it to the CSWA!”


Pauses.


“Before the open contracts and over promoted battle royals … I made it to the DANCE! … on sheer ability and raw talent.”


Kevin takes yet another sip from the flask, and while leaning back into the darkness, almost as a nervous tick; brushing his hair out of his face only for it to slowly fall right back into place.


“Unfortunately, my run in CSWA would fall short and confirm what most analysts had thought to be comparative to a musician’s sophomore slump.
They were right … with out the whole team; I couldn’t create the same magic in CSWA as I had in MWC.”


Kevin stops for a second as if to think about his next words. He sips the flask once again, and continues.


“Some would say it was the lack of Manifest Destiny, and my brother… Some would say Erik Zieba already had me pegged before I left the EWI …


It could be this, it could be that … it could have been the booze, it could have been the drugs … Either way it cost me both of my brothers, and a career in the CSWA.


No real point in trying to figure it all out now, sevens years later.”


Now the time has come … CSWA … Ultimate Gold Rush. A second chance. Troy Windham has said his peace, or at the very least, apparently, a piece of it. Eli Flair commented on my come back with the lack of respect I’d expect from someone who witnessed the ‘M.D.’ days… And a lot of others just rambled until they felt they left their mark …


I’ve already left … my mark.


Most hate it, some wish to forget it … But the fact remains, at the very least …


They remember the name.”


Kevin leans back toward the light and takes seemingly the last sip from the flask.


“I’ve had an endless itch for this opportunity for SEVEN years, the time has come! … the mistakes of old will not be repeated …


And so my destiny is written, and so it shall come to pass …”


He tips it upside down to be sure, and one single drop falls to the floor. The camera zooms in tight, and watches in slows motion as it pounds the concrete floor and almost bounces back before settling into nothing more than a darker shaded spot and blends in.

Black.

 

[Peter Lenex]

Title: The Roots

[The scene opens up inside of a gym. It’s empty, and from the looks through the window, it is probably after hours. A sign near the front door reads “THE TRADITIONAL GYM”. Turning a corner, we can see one of the participants of the CSWA Gold Rush match, “The God of War” Peter Lenex. He is walking along the floor, hands in the pockets of his trench coat, taking a look around.]

“Going back to my roots. Going back to where it all started. Proving to myself that all I have done in my career builds to this one moment in the CSWA. This one chance to make believers out of the non believers. To shut the egos up once and for all and show them that the no-name federation I speak of like a brother indeed held some of the greatest men of all times. Rob Awesome. Lance Lightstar. Thomas Slade. Troy Wolfe. Werewolf Sanchez. Dream Cast. Peter Lenex.

“And my rise to that very spot started here in the Traditional Gym. Training here night and day. Working my way to that eye catching level. Trying to make it to the big time. And I did. Contrary to what some of you may have to say about that.

“Now I am here in the CSWA for this lovely event. For a chance to capture gold that some only dream of. And who stands in my way? Nearly two dozen people that I have never heard of, never wrestled before, and never really cared about until now. Names like Troy Windham, Dan Ryan, Eli Flair, the Queen of Sheba, Xias, Xion, Jay Smash, JA, the good Professor, Scott Riktor, Kin Hiroshi. People I didn’t even know existed. Now, I must plow through the hoards of them like a bull through the streets of Spain. Tossing them aside so I can get to my real destination. The inside of that inner ring.

“In no way do I expect my road to be easy. I know that everyone will be gunning to get rid of me just as I will be gunning to get rid of them. I welcome them to try. It’s been an awfully long time since I was in a match with as much magnitude as this, but I will show no ring rust, much to the dismay of those looking for an easy kill.”

[Lenex reaches forward and grabs the bottom rope of the ring. He pulls back on it, stretching, and then lets go of it.]

“I could sit around and talk of my bast battles some more, or maybe even talk about idols I had when I was a child. Maybe spout some dreams that I had, ones that you will all care not to hear. I could try and impress you with my skills before we get to the Anniversary, but I won’t. Why? Because I want to keep everyone on their toes. I want to keep everyone guessing. No one in this thing knows an iota about me, and I’m fine with that.

“It’s just that much more to prove.”

[Lenex makes his way around the ring to the far side, walking along the brown walls.]

“I see that the Alter Ego did not take kindly to his name being uttered a few days ago. I wonder why that is? Can you not handle the competition that you, yourself joined? Can’t handle the fact that there are other people other then you who want to get their hands on Troy Windham? Threatened by the fact that other men are here to win, and not just get an ***-kicking they can tell their friends about?

“Pity for you then. You may seem like a tough guy through the camera lens, but what will you be like at the Gold Rush match? A *****cat? A tame lion licking its wounds? Oh no, not you. Not the all high and ****ing mighty Dan Ryan.

“Give me a break. I know you’re sort. You feel deterred by the fact that someone else has taken notice to you. You came in with one goal, and that was to gun for Windham. But I took a step into your line of fire, didn’t I? I took your concentration off of the glory and put it where it belong. On the rest of the pile. On the rest of the competition. You look over us if you want, but if you do, you won’t even make it to Troy Windham. Your past talents won’t help you here, Ryan.

“But prove me wrong. Tell me that I am just blowing hot air. Tell me that I will be the first man on your hitlist. My response?

“Bring what you’ve got, Danny boy.”

[Lenex stops in front of one of two windows looking out onto the street.]

“Nothing better then a man who has to take his time making jokes about self-urination to try and get a laugh from the crowd. JA, it really doesn’t matter anymore. If you think I’m generic, good. I will just have to show you otherwise. You think I just talk about my career to stimulate myself? I’d expect a come-back like that from a man of you...shall I say, de-stature?

“I don’t need to IMPRESS YOU to be victorious. I need to DEFEAT you. I need to get PAST you. And frankly, JA, I think that task is very accomplishable. You’re insecure, and that is not a positive for you. Your weaknesses are glaringly obvious. You will suffer...how much you will suffer is a whole different story. One that you will write yourself. How much do you intend to push the issue?”

[Lenex smiles as he walks along the wall to the other window.]

“But the numbers continue to grow. Soon, this match will feature every man, woman, and child from three continents, all trying to get their hands on gold they don’t deserve. Do I deserve it? Far more then anyone else who is entered. Far more then some of the gutter trash that has walked into this thing.

“And no, I was not talking about myself.

“The likes of Kevin Watson, Xias, Joey Melton, Mr. KKK, Karl Brown. People who have done NOTHING to gain any sort of eye-catching remark. The riff-raff that sits back and waits for their moment to come to them. They sit in the corners of the ring and just wait for a man who looks to be teetering on the brink, and then they toss him up and over the top of the rope. It may be a fun way to live life, but in the end, you will see that it is nothing but a big waste of your time. You won’t go anywhere but down, I am sorry to say.

“Nova, Troy Douglas, T. Waring, Eron, Lance Spencer. More of the hot-headed breed who do nothing but spout off their mannerisms. They do nothing but sit and fire their juice, trying to intimidate. Frankly, boys, you need to do a lot more then talk the talk to get the job done. You need to prove yourselves. You need to do something once and a while. You may pop up every so often, but what good is that to you? YOUR chances on winning are contingent on what you can do during that little bit of camera time you are allowed.

“And then that brings us back to you, Mr. Windham. Back to the man of the hour. The one man every woman wants to be with, and every man wants to beat down. Can I say I’m surprised? No. In every company there is at least ONE man like yourself. One man who thinks he has it all, and does, until that one man comes along and dethrones him. Until that one man comes along and takes it all out from under him. I’ve met a few like you in my past. To me, you are just another version of Lawrence Musso. A New Yorker using his influence to try and get ahead. Using his past to try and give him a foundation to rocket from.

“Well, Troy, I don’t buy any of it. I don’t buy any of that. In my mind, you are just as beatable as anyone else. Your past is just as meaningless as JA says mine is. Your friends are just as useless as you are. You have NOTHING going for you, other then being the Unified champion of the CSWA. A title you will have claim to for only a few more weeks. THEN it comes home with me, The God of War. Will you want it back? Most likely. People like you can not go a day being bare. Can not go a day knowing that they don’t have that. But I welcome you to try.”

[Lenex stands in the center of the gym and looks around.]

“I am fighting for myself, the people that helped me, and the legendary figures I could fight alongside. The ones that taught me everything. You’d be surprised what a ‘no-talent’ federation, as you call it, can provide.”

[The scene then fades out.]

 

[CuseTroy]

Just When You Think It's Safe...

FADE IN...

Troy Douglas sits in a high-backed leather chair inside the small office space of his Greensboro home. He seems to be in a much more cheerful mood than he was in when he was last seen.

DOUGLAS: Man, you leave town for a few days to meet some old friends and play golf, and all of a sudden the entire world explodes. I really need to get a better travel agent.

I mean, I expected people to come out from across the wrestling universe for the Gold Rush, but this is getting to the point where I half expect Dark Helmet to pop up and give the order to jump to Ludicrous Speed. Or did that happen already?

With all the people who've been jumping out of the woodwork the last few years, I can't be entirely sure. I'll have to check the ol' TiVo on that one.

But, there certainly have been a lot of names popping out there from the ether, hoping to get in their shot at CSWA gold at Anniversary. You've got the usual suspects; Melton, Flair, Lindsay Troy, Kin Hiroshi, JA, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's Alter Ego. Those are the sort of folks everyone knew would be vying for this ultimate prize.

But some of these other guys, even for a guy like me who's followed this industry since I was a kid, I've got absolutely no idea where they've come from. Peter Lenex, Jay Smash, enough guys with the letter "X" at the beginning of their first name to make ESPN's marketing department sick, I've got no other way to say this but straightforward...

I have no clue who the hell you people are. But, you're all going for the exact same thing I am, and that means in the next month, I'll make sure that none of you remain strangers to me. I'll do my homework, and I'll be prepared for whatever any of you might throw at me during the Gold Rush match. But, as for now, since I don't know you and you don't know me, I'll leave you alone.

For now.

Because at this point, I can only deal with the devils I know, and not the one's I don't. And trust me, I know plenty of the devils in this donnybrook. People I've faced, people I've watched, hell, a great number of people who I've admired for years. People whose resumes are known far and wide across the world as champions, legends even.

Troy gets out of his chair, stands and leans back against the bare far wall of his office, smiling slightly.

TD: You're all here for the exact reason I am, but you can say you've got the credentials to justify being here. You can say you're out for one thing and one thing only, that CSWA World Unified Title around Troy Windham's waist. You can cut me down to size with a sharp remark and a chuckle and cast me aside as that guy who hangs around until he's not useful anymore, then fades away, a failure as always.

Ain't that right, Lindsay?

You can laugh all you want about my life and what I've been through. You can mock me until your near-endless supply of sarcasm has run dry. You and everyone else can discount me and underestimate me as much as you damn well please.

I don't give a damn. Hate me, love me, laugh at me, it doesn't make a blip on my radar screen. I'll listen to what y'all have to say, I'll take it in, respond to it, but if you think a couple wisecracks about career disappointment and suicide are gonna make me crawl up into a little ball and stick myself in a room and never, never-ever come back out, think again.

Because expectations or not, for or against whatever odds there might be, you'll get everything in my tank at Anniversary. Because unlike Karl Brown, that CSWA World Unified Championship doesn't just mean something to me, it means everything. That's the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, folks, and I know there are plenty of people in this match who know the exact same thing.

Take Dan Ryan, or even his Alter Ego, whichever one the contract allows him to appear as this week. I've worked for Dan for quite a long time, and, to be sure, he and I haven't exactly always seen eye-to-eye. But, past differences will be set aside for this night, and entirely new hatreds will set in. Because that title, that pot of gold, that means more to men like Dan Ryan's Alter Ego and myself than any business dealing, any petty grudge from the past.

No, if I go face-to-face with Dan, Lindsay, JA, Kin, Karl, any of those I've had any kind of encounter with in the past, it won't be the past that means a thing. Fighting for that title is reason enough to want to pound each and every one of them until they resemble a soggy, half-eaten bowl of finely shredded wheat.

But, that's only the lead-up to the coup de grace. Because I haven't mentioned everyone's favorite slacker yet. But for that man, I have a simple, direct message that's probably the most juvenile thing I've said since I was in high school.

**** you, Troy Windham.

Damn, that felt good! Let's give it another go.

**** you, Troy Windham.

I know you're a superstar, a legend in this game, and the CSWA Unified Champion. But apparently, when you picked up that Big Gold Belt, it came with a shiny certificate declaring you king, shah, and emperor of your own wrestling universe.

You want to put a $25,000 bounty on my head? That's just dandy, Windham. Now, I know a big, bad, on-top-of-the-world Unified Champion like yourself who gets to sit in a ring and wait for countless men to pound each other into mush wouldn't be scared of my half-busted, 30-year old ass, but for you to offer 25 grand to anyone that can knock me out of the ring during the Gold Rush?

Man, something about me must bug you something awful, and I hope it's not the fact that my dad happened to think back to his love of Greek history when he named me. Because 25 large is a whole hell of a lot for four letters that rhyme with "toy".

Now, I don't know what about me gets to you that much, but I'm sure you'll mock me for it at some point on the globe during your jet-setting, whirlwind tour of deriding every one of the hopefuls for your title.

I don't know. Maybe it's the name. Maybe it's the fact that you sense that I want that title worse than any man, woman, or creature in the Gold Rush, because with the exception of just a few people in this little throwdown, I'm one of the only ones to have know it since the very beginning. Maybe it's the fact that unlike people like Lindsay, Eli, and Not-Dan, I'm not here for revenge, or to kick someone's ass because they've wronged me.

I'm just here for the gold. I'm here for the thrill of the moment, to lay it all out on the line no matter what, and if that's not good enough for you, Troy Windham, you can play back what I said just a minute ago and fornicate yourself with a large, preferably sharp metal instrument.

And that doesn't just go for you, Troy. That's a message to each person carrying CSWA gold into Anniversary. None of you are immune from the chaos that's about to ensue, and this "failure" might just have something to say about your fate before the night ends.

I'm crossing off the days till August 27. Hell, I've got nothing better to do. I've cleared my schedule, the date's open, all that's left is the countdown.

I'll be with you each step along the way.

Until we meet again.

...FADE TO BLACK