MAIN EVENT #1: Three Team Tag - GOP/Daymon v Rabesque/Tact v Payne/MWG

[TheOriginalSE]

All RP for the THREE TEAM TAG match between GOP/DAYMON and RABESQUE/TACT and PAYNE/MWG at RAUCOUS should be done in this folder. Any RP posted outside of the folder will not count.

*First fall wins. You can tag anyone into the match you so desire!


The RP deadline is 4:59pm PST on SUNDAY, December 31st. Angles should be sent to secandido@san.rr.com ..

 

[Starbreaker]

The Shape of Things.

Overnight, inside a modest looking television studio. Two turqoise-cushion couches are set in the middle of the set, atop gray carpeting, a small and round glass cocktail table slightly to the side. Hanging on the studio walls are several framed pictures, capturing select slices of sports lore. Sitting in one of the chairs is a man with short, slicked back black hair. He's got a youthful countenance, with a neatly groomed goatee and a small earring in his left lobe. A gold band rests on his middle finger, the hand of which holds a few sheets of paper he appears to be skimming through. The other seat is empty, and remains so as a signal is given. The shot centers on our host, who lifts his head to address the viewers as the show gets underway.

Host: Sports are ever changing, but we keep going, folks! Welcome, once again, to another edition of Burning the Midnight Oil. Et Cetera here, as usual... and tonght we have a packed show for you! We'll start off with a guest, and friend of mine... New Era of Wrestling star, Larry Tact! Mr. Tact is coming off a wild few weeks in the world of professional wrestling, which always seems to have wild news from the circuits, and I'm sure fans of NEW will want to hear about his behavior over these past few weeks, as well as an upcoming card of NEW Raucous, now promoting their live New Year's Eve show from the Dominican Republic. Following that, we'll get into some of the status quo hot topics, and then here what you've got to say about it on the phones! But first this message from our sponsors of the night....

Commercial break. When we return, the view has changed to capture both of the seats and more of the studio. Occupying the second seat is Larry Tact. His face is still visibly marked with dark bruises, on the corner of his lip a cut is still mending, and his forehead and neck still have residual scarring from the BattleBRAWL II match.

Et Cetera: Our first guest is currently in the mix of New Era of Wrestling, and will be taking part in a combustible tag team match at their New Year's edition of Raucous. And if I might say, Larry Tact, it looks like you've seen better days...

TACT: Victory has its price, E.C. I had a big victory at our last Pay-Per-View, BattleBRAWL II... and I'm still paying the price for it. But I look worse than I feel, I can assure you of that.

Et Cetera: Well let's not waste any time, as I know there were a slew of questions sent in by listeners anticipating your appearance. We'll try getting through a few of those now.

He straightens up in the seat, arms resting on the sides.

TACT: Sounds fine.

Et Cetera: There seem to be two large concentrations to the questions. The first is about your match at BattleBRAWL II with Chaos. Now, it was a Prodigy Classic Xtreme rules match... pretty much 'anything-goes' was the feeling I got as I watched it.

TACT: Officially, it was a 250 Lighttube Circus Death match. Basically, lighttubes, a scaffold, barbed-wire underneath. Have fun.

Et Cetera: Fun for the fans to see, I'm sure, although even I was cringing at some points. You two put each other through absolutely every anguish, it seemed. And the question people want to ask you is: "Where did you get the will to keep on going?" You managed to pull through and get the victory, but what kept you going to the end?

He clasps his hands together in front of his chin, pausing in thought for a few moments.

TACT: I can't completely describe what it was like to be in that match, even now. The environment, adrenaline... so many things played into it. And I wasn't completely sure what I was getting into until an hour before the match. But with Chaos, you can't really set expectations. You have to just go in there and fight to not be overwhelmed. Fight and struggle and scrape... do whatever you can to find the moment of opportunity, and then seize that moment.

Past that... it's not easy to really describe the feeling of being in that type of match. It was easily one of the toughest matches I've had to endure in years, because not only my opponent, but the match itself, seemed to be working against me.... until I found a way to adapt. It was a challenge. But I've got another match to look forward to now.

Et Cetera: Yes, and you're actually coming off a loss at the previous edition of NEW Raucous. That brings us to the second major focus of viewer questions. "Where has Larry Tact been the past week?" It seems you disappeared; no promos, no appearances, nothing. Why the silence?

TACT: I usually take a little time to reflect back on a big match when I appear following a big show. This time, I did things a little differently. When I got home, I knew I had been through something new, something... special. It was a match that would change me from here on out. I understood the importance of that time after the Pay-Per-View, and I knew I had a match the upcoming Raucous. But I didn't completely grasp it right when I got back. So, I took some time to look inside myself... find out where I was at.

Et Cetera: An important match with the Phantom Republican last week, too, no?

TACT: Yes. Clash of the Titans matches are rare, and they are important. However, without direction, there's not much point to showing up. I needed to get my finger back on the pulse of my direction. I'm at a crucial time right now, on the verge of doing great things. I can't afford to go through it blind.

A loss isn't what I was aiming for last Raucous, not at all. But defeat hurts the weak and motivates the strong.

Et Cetera: So what's so important that you found?

Another pause, as he settles his hands back to the armrests, and smirks.

TACT: .... Change.

Et Cetera: I don't quite follow....

TACT: Change, E.C. I said BattleBRAWL would be where I commenced the next chapter of my legacy. I knew that before I even set foot in the ring. And I was right; I'm not the same person. Clash of the Titans, I may not have put the Phantom Republican down for the count, but I didn't lose anything for it.

Chaos said he wouldn't lose anything by falling to me, and maybe he was right about that. It was about me, not him. I found change, and that change has launched me into the next chapter. There are things ahead that might surprise people. There may not be reason to it yet... but things will fall into place. And when the pieces all come together in the bigger picture... I will be at the forefront of another legacy-marking event. For me, and for New Era of Wrestling.

Et Cetera: I assume we aren't about to get any details....

TACT: When the time is right, you'll discover what's on the horizon, E.C. You and the rest of NEW.

Et Cetera: Well, you have been NEW World Champion before. At least let us know... does this involve your aspirations for a second World Title reign?

He grins and crosses one leg over the other.

TACT: It's no secret I've always got at least an eye on the World Heavyweight Championship. I haven't forgotten about it. People want to make plays to catapult themselves to the title. On occasion one of them can be crafty enough to get their hands on the strap. Jonathan Marx was, and he defended the title with pride. Now you have Shawn Hart... holding the World Championship. Guys like Daymon damage the credibility of New Era in order to advance themselves faster.

Let me tell you something, though: change that survives usually requires more than a trick up the sleeve, or trying to play leapfrog. The most enduring Champions are the ones who stay true to their own path to the top-- regardless of the temptation to take a shortcut, or if others try to take one. I don't lack the confidence in myself to betray the path I'm on. And I will be that much more of a force when I arrive at my opportunity.

Et Cetera: Stirring words, indeed. We're running out of time, but you do have a match coming up on this Caribbean tour. A tag team match with two other former World Heavyweight Champions, aside from yourself, as well as two former NEW Television Champions. Have you ever seen such an assemblage of Champions in one match?

TACT: Not in New Era, no. It's going to be a historic match, and one I look forward to competing in.

Et Cetera: What do you feel about your partner, Jean Rabesque? That was another popular question the viewers had, given the history between you two, with Rabesque having ended your first title run....

Uncrossing his legs, he pauses. A slight but visible twitch, then, before he continues.

TACT: My.... (spits out the word) partner... I am stuck with him this match. I thought, with the announcement made last week involving management, I might not have the deck stacked against me as much. Instead, it seems there's still some residue lingering, because the deck is ready to topple on me. I have a former World Champion at my side... and it figures I'd get the ungrateful one. The one man in NEW who would be fortunate to appreciate even a shred of my philosophies. It would do him some good, but I guess that's the reason he wouldn't dare. Let's not upset his ethic.

Et Cetera: Any specific reason for the bitterness towards your pairing?

He scowls.

TACT: (sarcastic) Isn't it obvious? You can only envy a man who can manage to stick such an egoblown head up his own *** for so long, and still be breathing.

Et Cetera: If I may... you've been telling us you've got your own plans. Aren't you being a bit harsh in criticizing Rabesque for his?

TACT: Not at all. He stands in front of cameras, a medium set up for expression, and an interviewer, clearly prepared to get a word from him... in silence. He still makes sure everyone sees him, but doesn't give anything. Not even a sign of acknowledgement. Isn't that all the fans ask for, in the end? And why, for what? He wants to create his own shortcut. Not that I'm surprised, and not that it will change my own plans. But if you don't have anything to give back, to the fans, to the promotion... then don't waste people's time.

You didn't see me standing in front of a camera when I had nothing to say. Even last week, Clash of the Titans, I was silent. But I didn't waste people's time. That's a big difference between us. My partner doesn't give back after he takes from everyone. He only takes. And for all his training, he hasn't changed his attitude. Silent or not, his shape remains the same. Unchanging.

Et Cetera: How, then, will you two coexist?

Looking stern and full of resolve, he nods.

TACT: We'll be there at Raucous. This week, we're partners no matter what. That's all I'll say for now.

Et Cetera: And that's about all the time we have left. Any final words for us?

TACT: Yes... when Raucous comes, the fans shouldn't worry about whether or not I will have my head in the game. No matter the circumstances, I always show, and I have my best. If my opponents feel otherwise, then the sun won't be the only thing that burns them. All those Caribbean natives calling them *****es are going to find out how true it is. Because they'll be smacked around and knocked up harder than the Caribbean's finest *****es. Only one team will be taking the reigns of this match and standing atop the pile. And even with the Ohionadian.... I will set the standard once again, and we will do it.

The sound cuts out after this, as the two are finishing up the conversation. The last we see they are shaking hands. Fade out.

 

[SteveA]

(CUEUP: “Shapes of Things” by The Jeff Healy Band)

(Again, we witness a black screen, and as the camera comes in, we see a grainy black and white image of Jean Rabesque, crouched, alone, in a wrestling ring)

VOICE OVER: “Had it really been over a year since the greatest competitor in NEW history set forth into a wrestling ring?”

(CUTTO: Rabesque leaving NEW following his loss to GOP)

V/O: “Isn’t he too old for this? Hasn’t the competition passed him by?”

(CUTTO: Rabesque on the mat in agony, clutching his left knee)

V/O: “Won’t the ring rust be too much for a once great champion?”

(CUTTO: Rabesque being powerslammed by GOP)

V/O: “We were all about to find out. The return the fans of NEW had been waiting over a year for.”

(CUTTO: The crowd going into hysterics as Rabesque made his way down the aisle at RAUCOUS, staying focused solely on what was inside the ring)

V/O: “But how would this man look after a year?”

(CUTTO: Rabesque standing in the middle of the ring, in better shape than he has been in in years)

V/O: “More importantly, was he still the greatest wrestler in the world today?”

(CUTTO: Rabesque and The Messenger looking across the ring at each other, prior to the match getting underway)

V/O: “Indeed there was some ring rust at the beginning....”

(CUTTO: Rabesque getting outwrestled at the very beginning of the match, CUTTO: Back and forth action between Rabesque and Cane, CUTTO: Rabesque clutching his back after getting slammed)

V/O: “But in the end, everyone in attendance got what they expected...”

(CUTTO: Rabesque going on the offensive in a rage, CUTTO: Rabesque hitting a suplex, CUTTO: Rabesque hitting yet another suplex, CUTTO: Rabesque driving his knee into Cane’s leg)

V/O: “And the match ended in an oh-so-familiar way.....”

(CUTTO: Rabesque slapping on the Figure 4 and Cane tapping out in the middle of the ring)

V/O: “The return was complete....”

(CUTTO: Jean Rabesque having his hand raised in victory)

V/O: “And now..... it is time to move forward.”

(CUTTO: Rabesque alone in the ring, black and white rapid fire images of different profiles of his face)

V/O: “Just as quickly, Jean Rabesque has been vaulted back into the main event scene at the New Era of Wrestling. A place he once dominated.... he must now share the spotlight with five other men.”

(CUTTO: Rapid fire images of GOP, MWG, Daymon, and Payne)

V/O: “Four opponents... the best NEW has to offer, as well as one familiar foe along his side....”

(CUTTO: A quick shot of Larry Tact, CUTTO: Rabesque and Tact battling it out, CUTTO: Rabesque climbing the ladder and clutching the NEW World Heavyweight Title, CUTTO: Tact outside the ring, looking dejected, CUTTO: Rabesque celebrating in the ring)

V/O: “Two men who arguably put on the greatest match in NEW history must now put aside their differences for a common goal.”

(CUTTO: Rapid fire clips of Rabesque and Tact in action)

V/O: “But with this relationship work?”

(CUTTO: Larry Tact’s recent comments towards Jean Rabesque’s on his interview show)

V/O: “Two combustible giants team up in an NEW first, in a huge main event on Raucous, and NEW fans can expect one thing, Larry Tact’s help or not, Jean Rabesque will end up in his normal position.”

(CUTTO: Rapid fire clips of Rabesque having his hand raised after NEW matches)

V/O: “Victorious.....)

(CUTTO: More black and white rapid fire shots of Rabesque, until it zooms in on his face)

V/O: “And what does the former champion have to say to Larry Tact?”

(CUTTO: Rabesque smiling into the camera)

RABESQUE: “......................”

(CUTTO: More action shots quickly)

V/O: “This coming Raucous, an event unlike any other in New ERA. Jean Rabesque and Larry Tact team up. Can they coexist?....”

(CUTTO: Split screen of Rabesque and Tact)

V/O: “Stay tuned....”

(FADE OUT)

 

[TH]

Jean Rabesque, months ago, I banished you from New Era of Wrestling. I deported you back to your filthy stinkhole of a country known as Canada. You could say, I exiled you, a fate as ignoble as you are a filthy liberal cheese-eating pinko who'd like nothing more than the great Republican system to crumble.

For that time, things were great here in NEW. I was the Champion, the Champion of conservative values and morality as much as the Champion of headlocks and suplexes. Even as I lost the Championship to the hated Communist, there was still hope. I never lost that title in the middle of the ring. The hated Moscow-San Francisco Axis worked AGAINST ME to steal my Championship, as the homosexual emissary Beau Michaels robbed me of my Championship. Still, I had hope.

A match, a rematch, a chance for me to gain my World Championship back. I had it in my clutches. I could feel it. I was moments away from regaining my rightful spot as THE LEADER of the FREE WRESTLING WORLD! But then, I felt something else. I felt a vile, evil presence, one that I had not felt since I sat in a booth behind Hilary Rodham Clinton at Budakan in Philadelphia Fourth of July weekend all those years ago. My stomach began to turn. My brain clouded. I went numb. The Communist was able to grab me in his clutches, and I was powerless. My worst fears were coming true. I didn't want to believe it, but when I saw the referee handing Marx MY property and I turned to vomit, I saw the devil, face to face. I saw my worst nightmare that I had since Congress passed the Brady Bill come right into my eyes.

I saw you, Rabesque, back in NEW, back in the United States, back where YOU DID NOT BELONG! From that moment at BattleBRAWL, I knew that my work was incomplete, that I exiled you, but I did not break you. I did not pulverize you into submission so that you'd lost your entire lust for destruction and disruption. No, like Jesse Jackson, you won't die. You won't leave the public eye, so I had to hunt you. I had to track you and make sure that I had tabs on you every day until I was able to get you in the ring again, Frog-boy.

I thought that day would be a long way off. We're embarking on a journey outside of the Greatest Country in the World, into dens of third-world American-hating gangsters and thugs, a place where you might feel at home, Rabesque. I thought for sure LaRocque would protect you. That I'd have to hunt you, using my connections within NORAD and the CIA. I prepared for that.

But silly me, I'm having you delivered right to my doorstep. Right in front of my eyes. The job that I started more than a year ago will finally be finished at RAUCOUS. It's all falling into place now. Don't you see, Froggy? You're being led into a trap! Your tag team partner has already capitulated to me last week. He's my prisoner. He's of no use to you. Even if he was... he's your most hated rival besides me. He's the Nader to your Gore, Rabesque. Sure, he may believe in the same things you do, but ultimately, he hurts you in the end, and it allows me, the Bush to both of your pathetic loser lives, to sweep you out like the chaff you are.

Jason Payne, Madonna Wayne Gossard, you two would be best served to step aside. This mission is a seek and destroy run. If you value your lives, take cover.

Because at RAUCOUS, there may very well be nothing left of the Dominican Republic, let alone Rabesque, after I drop my MOABs down like the anger of God Himself.

 

[Jason Payne]

Fade in on the dingy interior of the Basham-Schultz Wrestling Academy. Jason Payne and Chris McMillan are taking a break from watching various footage of everyone involved in the huge main event. Payne sits on a chair with his feet propped up on a footstool, a cold beer in his hand. To his right, McMillan lounges ina Lay-Z-Boy recliner resting a plate of pizza in his lap as he reaches over and grabs his own brew.

Payne - "Hey."

McMillan looks over at his partner in crime as he takes another swig from the bottle.

McMIllan - "Yeah?"

Payne looks at McMliian as if he is in intense thought.

Payne - "You ever wonder, why we're here?"

McMillan arches and eyebrow, looking over at Jason.

McMillan - "One of life's great mysteries isn't it. Why are we here? I mean, are we the product of some cosmic coincidence, or is there a God? Ya know, with a plan and everything for us. I don't know man, but it keeps me up at night."

Payne just stares at Chris for a long moment. The two exchange quizzical glances before Payne finally takes a swig from the beer.

Payne - "What? No I mean, what are we doing here? In this building, watching tapes of all these other wrestlers?"

McMillan raises his eyebrows now in comprehension.

McMillan - "Oh, that...yeah. Well -"

Payne - "What was all that stuff about God?"

McMillan shifts his eyes away in awkward embarassment.

McMillan - "That? Oh, nothing."

Payne just kind of stares at McMillan as Chris shifts uncomfortably.

Payne - "You want to talk about it?"

McMillan - "No! No, no. So uh, what's going through your mind with this match?"

Payne continues to eye McMillan for a bit before leaning back in his chair and staring at the T.V., where a tape has obviously been paused.

Payne - "Well, the one thing that sticks out to me about this, is Daymon. He eliminated me from the BattleBrawl, so I feel a little payback is in order. This is the second time I've been robbed at the BattleBrawl, so to say that Daymon is going to suffer just the tiniest little bit, is an understatement. When I get done with him, he's going to wish he stayed home with his wife to change diapers and clean up piss and ****."

McMillan nods a bit as he takes a bite of pizza. His mouth full, his words come out slightly garbled, but he is understandable.

McMillan - "Well, honestly, I'm kind of shocked that you mentioned Rocko first, seeing that your 'official' partner in this match is MWG."

Payne had the beer bottle to his lips when McMillan finished speaking. Slowly, he brought the bottle down and set it on the table.

Payne - "I know that Chris, but don't forget that anyone can tag anyone in this match, so I'm sure at some point, I'm going to get my hands on MWG, and when that happens, a year of frustration is going to get taken out in a matter of moments. Hell, I'll just beat the living hell out of MWG, pin him, and take home the victory for our team."

McMillan - "I don't think that would be legal Jason. But in any event, you aren't concerned with what might happen when you two get in the ring regardless? Are you sure you're well enough for that?"

Payne just stared at McMillan for a long time without saying anything, allowing the silence to say it all.

McMillan - "Alright man, I'm just saying. You haven't been yourself again long so I just want to make sure you know what it is your doing."

Payne - "Trust me Chris, I haven't been this focused in years. I see things now with a clarity that I never knew existed. And while some might question whether or not I have what it takes to stay in this business any longer, I would tell them that I am now more dangerous, and more unpredictable than ever. Whoever comes out of this match is going to be in line for a world title shot in the future. The other five guys in this match had better realize it, and also had better realize that this an entirely different Dogh of War that they are dealing with now."

McMillan nods at Payne and thinks for a moment.

McMillan - "What about Larry Tact?"

Payne - "I have nothing but respect for Larry Tact. Absolute respect, and it's an honor to step into the ring against him yet again. But to be fairly honest, I don't think he is the Tact we all knew a few years ago. If he was, he'd be World Champion already. No, his ongoing battle with Juliet and all his personal business have him distracted from what the big picture is in New Era right now. Sure he'll be tough to deal with for sure, but mentally, he won't be as in as the rest are."

McMillan - "That's an awfully simplistic analysis for someone who's a former champion."

Payne - "It's the truth. Look, I could go on and on about what Larry Tact has done in this business all day long, but that don't make a lick of difference in the here and the now. Ric Flair is a 16-time former world champion, but do you honestly think that he's credible anymore as threat to any of the top stars of today? It would make a good argument, but in the end, Ric Flair just wouldn't be able to hack it with guys like myself, or Cameron Cruise, or Rabesque. No, Larry will put up a fight, and I don't count him out by any means, but he won't pull out anything that I haven't seen before."

"Here's how it runs down Chris. This is going to be a free-for-all, I can already tell you that. I'm more than ready for whatever awaits me in this match. Whether that is getting driven through the mat by Larry Tact, getting folded like a pretzel by Rabesque, or having MWG rub his crotch in my face while he has me dopped up on qualudes. I'm ready to go through hell and back if I have to, and I'm not scared to go down whatever road I need to travel to get to my destination, which is the World Champion of New Era. That's the facts son."

FTB

 

[NotorisSTD]

too busy listening to Dragonforce and masturbating...

(CUEUP: “Born to be beheaded” by Mindless Self Indulgence…)
(CUTTO: MWG, your NEW Prodigy Classic hardcore champion, OH MY GOD THAT WAS AN AMAZING PUN, slumped against the wall of a dimly lit bathroom, wicked tight Buffy the Vampire Slayer T-shirt, red leather bondage pants, clutching the belt against his shoulder, hair all mussed around, giant fake eyelashes, Maelstrom style stoic sneer…)

“the surreal”
EMDUBBYAGEE: Well isn’t this a dainty change of pace…

I’ve been on a quest of personal rediscovery, as you know. My veins and lungs have been cleared of all toxins. My numerous sexually transmitted diseases are kept at bay by the latest advances in modern medicine. I am clean, lucid, and acutely aware of my surroundings. I am ever so grateful for this second chance at life. I remember now who I am, and what it is the good lord has put me on this earth to do. Which isn’t drugs. No one is really “good” at doing drugs. Some might say I’m a good f(bleep)k, but let’s face it, none of us are really as good in bed as we’d like to believe. It’s not exactly rocket science, either, really. Phallice gets inserted into orifice, slides out a bit, pushes back in, and so on…Kids today with their penises and vaginas.

That’s not who I am. What I am, kitties, is a misery machine. A study, gorgeous misery machine, with movie star good looks and the charisma to charm the pants right off Justin Timberlake….The only straight member of NSync.

Despite all that, I’m gonna lose my next match on TV, ‘cuz my tag team partner is a complete tool. A legendary tool, even. I could simultaneously double DDT Larry Tact and The Phantom Republican, kick the other dood in the junk so hard he passes out, pull out of Jean Rabesque’s mouth just in time to shoot my gunk into both of his eyes, rendering him a hunk and blind, tag Jason Payne in, and he’d still find some way to screw the pooch. I’d tell him to just stand there while I do all the work, but he’s not smart enough to follow simple directions like that.

My only hope is that Jean Rabesque will make a pass at Phantom Republican, and PR’s ranging homophobia will force him to run away to take a shower and beat it raw to the Lacey Chabert Maxim photo-spread. Once Rabesque realizes I’m the only one in the ring who will have sex with him, he’ll voluntarily allow himself to be pinned by me so the match can get over with and we can go bang each other in the locker room showers. Of course, I have nothing but confidence in my ability to spank anyone in this match, but probably not with JayPay McDouchebag mucking everything up and probably getting pinned after an armdrag ‘cuz he forgot he’s supposed to kick out before the ref slaps the mat three times. It’s cute that he still thinks he can beat me up, even after the bah-gillions of times I’ve humiliated him and had sex with his father while I forced him to watch, and he cried like a little prissy girl. Want to see my impression of Sir Sucksassalot, Jason Payne? (lies down) “WHAAAA!!! PLEASE, WHY WON’T YOU STOP HITTING ME?!?! IT ISN’T NICE!!! I’M A MASSIVE ***** AND ALSO HAVE THE COMBINED REASONING SKILLS OF A HOUSE CAT AND CHICKEN. BUT NOT A SMART HOUSE CAT, AND NOT A LIVING CHICKEN. OR EVEN A REAL CHICKEN!! A FRICKIN’ VEGAN CHICKEN SANDWICH. ALSO, I SUCK AT LIFE, EVEN THOUGH MY FATHER IS HOT.” (sits back up) And that’s what I’m being forced to team up with?! Screw it, that’s what I say. I may have slight ideological differences with the Phantom Republican, and I may be pissed at Larry Tact for indirectly forcing me into that TEAM tournament thingy dingy, but those vendettas will have to wait ‘till later, ‘cuz I have no faith whatsoever that Jason Payne won’t f(bleep) everything up. In fact, now that I think about it, I’m going to pound his brains out with a chair before the match starts, so I’ll actually have a chance at winning.

(FTB)

 

[RStrawsma]

(Daymon household, at night. The children are in bed, but people are still stirring. We open up on Caitlyn Daymon sitting alone in the quiet, dimly lit living room, reading a book. "The Wind In The Willows", a classic tale.)

*BUMP!*

*BUMP!*

(Caitlyn looks up as the thudding noise sounds from somewhere in the house. She peeks over her shoulder to the stairs.)

*BUMP!*

*BUMP!*

(Marking her place in the book, she comes to her feet and follows the noise up the stairs and down the hall. All the while, it continues to resonate through the still, quiet walls of the Daymon home.)

*BUMP!*

*BUMP!*

*BUMP!*

(She opens a door, and her eyes narrow.)

Caitlyn Daymon
What in the hell are you doing?

(Our view pivots to reveal the study of Rocko Daymon. We find Rocko away from his desk, facing the far wall. He lets his head fall again into the plaster.)

*BUMP!*

Rocko Daymon
I'm thinking!

Caitlyn Daymon
Well, you're gonna wake the kids. What are you thinking about?

Rocko Daymon
It's crunch time. LaRoque wants his promo, and I don't know what to give him. So I'm thinking of something to say.

Caitlyn Daymon
Then just half ass it and go to sleep.

(Daymon turns from the wall, scratching his head.)

Rocko Daymon
Yeah, but it's complicated. You see, I was just watching that Tact promo again, and it was a good promo. He had some valid points to make. And that Rabesque promo was simply... beautiful. Really tugged at my emotions. And Phantom Republican? Straight and to the point. Absolute poetry.

I can't just half-ass this thing. I mean, in the short time I've been here, I've already become one of NEW's biggest names, setting myself in the main event for the second consecutive week. I'm a rising star in all respects, and I've been more than ONE of this federation's current title holders.

I can't let myself be out-promoed now... not while I've got all this momentum behind me.

(He yanks his hair in frustration.)

Rocko Daymon
I need to think of something witty to say... something funny. Something that people remember later on. Whatever it is, it has to be good, cause tomorrow is the Downward Dog/Devil to Pay show at Jerilee's, and I won't get a chance to cut one then.

Caitlyn Daymon
You could try starting it off with some elaborate scene... usually involving a second person with whom you can bounce off of, make it sound like a conversational dialogue as opposed to a boring rant. Most people, like Tact, go with the run-of-the-mill interviewer, though it's sometimes more convenient--and less expensive--to just do it with a friend or a family member.

Rocko Daymon
...Caitlyn, do you mind--?

Caitlyn Daymon
No. I'm busy reading. Now get an idea for a promo, or LaRoque will ****-can your ass...

Rocko Daymon
You're one to talk, Miss Second-Week-Straight-Without-A-Promo-Even-Though-I-Just-Made-A-Major-Comeback-From-A-Long-Hiatus.

Caitlyn Daymon
Hey, that's not my problem. But the minds at NEW, in an attempt to cut down on production costs, sends the both of us only one camera crew when it comes time to promo. And, being the long-winded bastard you are, you use up all the tape talking about what it means to have big hairy balls or whatnot, while I'm left to broadcast a 30 second message through Karla's camera phone. You, on the other hand, have no excuse for being late.

Rocko Daymon
Yeah, I do!

Caitlyn Daymon
Getting your Human Warrior to Level 40 and farming for Gold to buy your mount on World of Warcraft is not a legitimate excuse! Now, please find other means of gaining inspiration that doesn't involve banging your head into the wall.

(She leaves. Daymon scratches his chin in thought.)

Rocko Daymon
Inspiration, eh?

(His eyes suddenly go wide.)

Rocko Daymon
Wait, I think Kyle left a little of that inspiration he brought over the other day in the freezer!

(Like a gnu springing freely through the Savannah, Daymon bounds from his study, down a flight of stairs, and into the kitchen. He opens the freezer door and brings out a bottle of wine in a paper bag.)

Rocko Daymon
Ooh yeah! This is what I need!

(We cut to maybe an hour later. Back in the study, Daymon now sits at his desk, seemingly looking over Lindsay Lohan calendar hanging on the wall while holding a half-empty wineglass in his hand. He spins around in his chair to greet the camera with a smile.)

Rocko Daymon
Welcome, my friends!

(In a suave, if not graceless, act, Daymon swings his feet up to prop them on the desk. Improper calculation of space reasoning causes him to misguide his weight and throw himself tumbling back to the floor. He quickly springs back to his feet in a frantic tiff, wiping the lapels of his brown courdaroy smoking jacket to regain his cool.

Rocko Daymon
Maybe I should do this standing anyway...

(Amazingly, the glass didn't spill. That's the beauty of writing roleplays--you can do physical comedy without having to take into account minor details like that. Stuff only real nerds pick out. Anyway, he takes a sip of the glass and begins what I have dubiously titled "Rocko Gives Props".)

Rocko Daymon
I never was a fan of these hokey wild-card matches that the owners usually dish out when they can't think of anything interesting enough to fill their hole in the main event. But for once, it seems like I'm in good company. In fact, I have to give props to every man in this match for being a member of the best this federation has to offer. Moreso than our own champions, I must say.

And even more, one of you has the luck in being teamed with a member of the best the industry has to offer... Rocko "The Sultan of Swashbuckling" Daymon.

The other four of you have what I consider to be the misfortune of looking at me from the other side of the ring. But just because the boss says I have to beat your ass doesn't mean I have to hate you...

On one team, you've got Jason Payne and Madonna Wayne Gossard.

(Rocko suddenly blinks and looks up in thought.)

Rocko Daymon
...wow, that's a weird name.

...Jason...

Anyhow, Payne, besides being bored to tears by hearing the run-of-the-mill “family man” taunts, I was somewhat surprised that you’re still bitter about BattleBRAWL.

What, did you expect me to just lie down and let you win? Are you expecting that this week? Or do you always feel that a little revenge is in order whenever somebody bests you in the ring?

I’ll be blunt, Jason… I went into that ring at BattleBRAWL knowing I had a job to do. I wasn’t concerned about who I was going to piss off through elimination, because every man was in that ring for himself. I was willing to go to any lengths to win that match, and it just so happened that eliminating potential threats in my way to victory was something that had to be done.

You spent all that time pumping up for that match, preparing to face-off against nineteen of this federation’s finest. And you did well, Jason… even I won’t deny that you made that ring your personal playground a time or two. But you made a mistake when you neglected to notice that one of those nineteen was a step ahead of the rest, including yourself.

You are responsible for your own losses, Jason… just like I was responsible for not finishing off Shawn Hart soon enough. Placement, performance, and results notwithstanding, the both of us walked out of that match as losers. I’ve moved on, and now I’m looking for another shot at that title. You, on the other hand, seem more inclined to find a scapegoat for your own failings.

I guess nothing I say at this point can stop you from that mentality, Jason… though I should warn you, do not make another mistake by making this thing personal. People don’t turn out well that way. For your own well-being, just be satisfied knowing I merely threw your ass out of the ring as opposed to drilling your head in the center of the mat and pinning you before thousands in attendance. And, who knows, maybe this time around, you’ll get lucky enough to get a little pay-back.

But should you take this too far, Payne, you just may incite my wrath. Instead of you coming after me, it might be me coming after you, which is not the place a bright up-and-comer like yourself would want to be in if he wants to see a long, successful career in his future.

I can’t say I hate you, Jason… in fact, part of me respects you. You gotta damn fine talent and a respectable mentality. But you’ve gotta realize that before this sport is a pissing match, it’s a business.

As for the one they call Em-Dubbya-Gee... besides the fact that these days you have a better chance of spotting Bigfoot before you find this guy ANYWHERE, at least I know the guy can pound heads.

...I mean the ones on your shoulders, you sick bastards.

Moving right along, the next team of Tact and Rabesque sports more than just a couple of good athletes. In this hand, we've got a pair of NEW legends, both former World Champions, and both having big plans for 2007.

I have to say though, Larry Tact... you surprised me on many levels.

You remind me much of myself. You're a man who knows things like honor and integrity. You know what it means to change... through whatever circumstance, win or lose, you become a different man with every match.

But at the same time... you fail to grasp the big picture.

You've got this idea that I'm putting a taint on NEW... just so I can get to the top a little faster? You think I'm taking a short-cut, Larry? This, obviously, must refer to my actions last week...

Well, what can I say? There I was, going through the motions for the second time in handing Mr. Entertainment his ass. And then, near the end, it dawned on me...

Here I am with this skill and finesse. In the short time I've been in NEW, I've proven myself to be one of the most dominant forces. I beat Jonathan Marx, who would go on the following week to take the World Title. I pinned our current World Champion twice in the same night. And top things off, I survived all other men at BattleBRAWL... losing, by default, over a review of Shawn Hart's big toe coming down over mine.

Was the Television Title to be my reward for all of that? Was beating Mr. Entertainment worth it? After all, we're talking about a guy who has more knowledge of my few months spent in Empire Pro than here in New ERA.

Not to knock on the Television Title, which is a great belt, when you forget the fact that a maggot like Stephen Forrester is wearing it... but I didn't come to NEW to be one of the best. I came to be THE best!

You think I'm damaging New Era's credibility? I only came here for the one thing you know all about... CHANGE! I came to change myself and change this federation for the better.

You think NEW is well off when a hack like SHAWN HART is your champion?

So, in those final moments of my match, I told myself, "No, I'm not letting Shawn Hart walk away from it so easily. Not when I busted my ass that much and came so close." And I tossed Steph-O to the outside... so the fans can keep on being Entertained by his meaningless charades and crowd-pleasing dives until somebody inevitably strips him of his title, his last saving grace before he's booed out of the Apollo.

Tarnishing the name of NEW? My good man, it's wrestlers like us that give this federation what it needs! Jason Payne wants me to go back home and change diapers, but I’m already up to the elbows in **** and piss in this federation.

I guess I could play it your way... without "short-cuts", as you put it, by settling with another title and waiting for another opportunity to come by, maybe in a few months... or years. But what will be lost as that time passes by, with this faux champion?

That's what separates you and me. I'm never satisfied. Not until I'm the best. Not until every man and woman that ever laced up their boots sees me standing tall in that ring and says, “Son of a *****, that man is a professional wrestler!” And while that might sound self-centered, I've learned that in this business, until you go for it, you'll never get it.

It’s like I told Jason Payne… every time I’m in that ring, I know that there’s a job to do, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it done. When it comes to that World Title, I don’t care how many toes I have to step on to hang that strap around my waist. Guys like Marx and Hart have done enough damage of NEW’s name through their respective reigns.

I’m merely moving along the path to give this federation the champion it needs.

Last but not least, we have Jean Rabesque…

Well, Jean… it’s been quite a while since we first met in WFW. Since then, I’m sure there have been many changes in the both of us.

You know, I have to admit something, Jean. I used to look up to you. I used to admire that spirit and talent you showed in the ring, and I envied it. There was something that appealed to me about you, your “no-bull****” attitude towards everything, summed up perfectly in your catchphrase.

I’ve done everything in my power to match that sort of mentality in myself, and improve upon it. After you left, it seemed as though this federation—and the entire industry—was without a man who knew what it meant to be a professional wrestler. So I stepped up to fill those shoes. And, in my honest opinion, I’ve done well to fill them.

I even pride myself in thinking I’ve done your job, Jean. After all, while you were away, I dismantled DREDD, the very stable that set-out to put you away. I avenged you, Jean.

But now you’re back and looking to reclaim your place on top of this federation—the place I just so happen to be standing on now. But don’t entertain yourself with any notions that I’m ready to step aside.

You were a god among men once… but you walked away, Jean. You lost the title and walked out without another word.

Far be it from me to criticize people about retirement. After all, I’m pretty sure I’m in the running with Damian Stone in the category of Most Times Left And Returned. But every time I came back, I knew I had to work my way up again from the bottom. Since coming back a little more than three years ago, I’ve been on a dominant tear in every federation I’ve stepped in.

Do you really expect them to roll out the red carpet and welcome you with open arms, after you just ran away in shame?

I suppose now is your chance to reclaim your spot. All you have to do is what few men in this industry have done… and pin my shoulders to the mat for the three-count. Nobody in NEW has pulled it off yet, which is why I’m curious to see who will finally be the one to put me down a notch.

Will it be you, Jean? The very man I modeled myself after?

No, Jean, it won’t. Being this federation’s Jean Rabesque is one thing… but I’ll leave that task to you. I’m done filling your shoes. I’m going to start being NEW’s Rocko Daymon—the man, the champion, the professional wrestler.

I potentially face my greatest challenge in this match, pitted against four of this federation’s finest professional wrestlers—many of them former World Champions. It will give the fans something to see, such as how the past legends of this federation hold up against the future.

So prepare yourself, NEW, for stepping into the World of Tomorrow. Willingly or not, I will show this federation a NEW era!

(Rocko polishes off the rest of his glass and smiles to the camera. We fade to black.)

 

[Starbreaker]

The big picture none of you want to see.

Fade in: the streets of Manhattan, New York-- 'the city' within New York City. Lights seem to dot everything relevant in the landscape: the curves of each skyscraper; the colors of the Empire State Building; the lit paths set for rivers and bridges to seemingly follow, though it's the other way around. People mill about in the post-holiday-but-not-quite-back-to-normal-schedule hussle and bustle. The last strains of the winter holiday season cling to life in remaining wreaths hanging, colored strings of lights lining windows, and holiday sale signs that were neglected and have yet to be taken down. But the scene settles on a less popular portion of the city-- a dimly lit park with the... less acknowledged denizens of the city. A man in torn jeans and a dirt-stained shirt lies on a bench, covered by newspaper that the wind struggles to whisk away; a woman tugs a large trash bag out of its receptacle, almost knocking the container over in the process, and lugs it over her back to her latest haunt; another man is seen talking to himself as he walks along, scribbling on a pad of paper with a chewed-on pencil, alternating between scratching his scraggly hair and pushing a shopping cart full of who knows what.

This is what Larry Tact sits in the middle of. On a part bench, a long black coat covering his attire, black gloves over his hands, and a black New York football Giants hat topping off the simple ensemble. He looks around peacefully, as if right at home in this slum of a park area. Leaning back on the wooden bench, which has clearly seen better days, he brings his arms back to rest hands behind head.

TACT: "What better way to ring in the New Year than to hear from my fine, unfeathered opponents. I thought you all might have been partying a little too hard this winter..... maybe trying to escape what's coming for you soon enough. But listening to your respective perspectives, I realize that's impossible. You're all too ignorant to try escaping. Well, except for good ol' Gordon. You just maintain your typical approach of.... what do your people call it? Ah yes... strategery!"

"That will never get old. Ever."

"Nor will hearing the words of people who want so badly to feel like they've got this mighty fine grasp of what's happening. In fact, all you've collectively accomplished is to follow the lead, which is all any of you are good at. Following. Because I can tell you all right now... not one of you in this match is prepared to take the lead of what's on the horizon for New ERA. You've all followed so accordingly about being keyed into seeing the big picture. I really must... applaud you all."

Grins.

"Yes, and I should thank you all, too. You all follow my lead so well."

"And follow you have."

Hands unclasp from behind the head as he straightens up slightly.

"You all hate it, too, I know. But you don't hate indiscriminately, and that will hurt you. I'm no fool; this will be a dogfight of a match. We've got two teams whose teammates want to wretch being teamed with each other... and another team who are being thrown together because of happenstance... just being there at the same time... which is worse than the former. Powell... Daymon... both being thrown together like two-bit whores picked out for the one-night stand that will be this Raucous. I'm sure LaRoque is pleased you haven't been sniping at one another... but it shows such a lack of confidence."

"I mean, don't tell me you're going to go in there with some sort of... mutual respect for each other. With some... preordained agreement that you'll coexist for the night, in order to come out the winners. God, I hope not.... how utterly sickening that would be."

"I mean, just think about it... I despise..... my (spits) partner at Raucous. Payne brought up a decent idea... forcing the partner to take the fall in order to gain the win. I wouldn't mind that, myself... and I've got much more reason to want it than he does. I mean, look at the comparison. Payne was put through mental trauma through molestation. I'm not gonna lie, that doesn't sound like much of a way to be... changed, for lack of a better word. But a little therapy and the guy would have been fine months ago. Hell, McMillan took it upon himself to get that taken care of. Now Payne's fixed up and ready to go forward again."

"The man I'm supposed to team with? He's done so much more damage... not so much to me as to wrestling. That transgression is so far worse. He clearly deserves such worse punishment be dealt to him by my hands... such is the price for what he's done. He brought disgrace to not one... not two... but three promotions I've tried to settle down in over the course of my career. He's done it at my expense once. And he's generally ejaculated on the craft of the essence of this sport... the true wrestling... all the while. And all the while, he's touted it like an accomplishment! He is proud of what he's done to this sport! Payne will recount that MWG violated him. Well.... the bastard I'm leashed to for this match has violated wrestling, over... and over... and over again.... spattering it every damn day of his career with his surely tainted seed."

"In his estimation, he'd call it, "being the best damn technical wrestler in the world."

He looks down for a moment, perhaps noticing his fists are clenched, then looks up again.

"Powell, you want to claim being the one to have taken this man out of NEW. Marx and Doe want to claim they were the ones to do it. I will admit I didn't deliver the deathblow, but I pushed things along when they were at a deadlock. But to all those who want to claim they forced out the former World Champion from NEW... I say to you right now, to settle all of these claims...."

His brow creases and eyes narrow as it all boils to the top.

"YOU FAILED GOD DAMNIT! YOU ALL FAILED! What does it matter when he's here now? IT ALL MEANS... NOTHING!"

He pauses for a few moments, gathering himself. When he continues, it is in an unsteady calm, a fire trying to lash out through the cracks of his eyes and mouth.

"We all failed. We failed to make things better in his absence, with people like Powell and Marx pissing away their opportunities to do something with the title. Hart is no doubt prepared to waltz along that same path. But if we've all failed...."

"Then Daymon.... you've failed miserably."

"And... like me? You want to say... you think we're similar? How's that? How could you and I be similar when, in the next breath, you're admitting how you looked up to the Ohionadian? How could we be any different? Aside from the fact we enter a ring and wrestle... and even then.... Where have you been, Daymon? ...."

"Oh, right. You're a journeyman. You get around wherever you can, and take what you can get. You have no clue about what you're in here, now."

"I'll tell you this right now. You're stepping into a situation where you've got no fire. You've got a purpose, sure... but nothing to match what the other two teams have. See, all that spite I've got bottled inside me... for my (flinches) partner... that comes out at Raucous. The time will be tactful for me to uncork that bottle. You don't have that edge... that reason to want to truly be the best in this match. This isn't singles, Daymon. It's tag teaming, even if in the loosest of ways. And you need that type of edge in this jungle. Especially given the volatile nature of what's surrounding you and the Republican. You two are going to be swallowed up by it, and that's going to be something you cannot fight in this match."

"Good luck with that."

"Not that any of the rest of us will really have much easier of a time. Essentially, partnerships are lucid at best here. And though the formal stated partnerships will provide something, it'll still be a dogfight. You know what that means? It means we'll find out who really can see the big picture.... and if they act accordingly."

"It's almost humorous. I speak about how I'm looking at the bigger picture here in NEW, and suddenly almost of you are chiming in on how you all have a view of it, too. And then, the kicker is, you all want to believe I'm the one missing it? Well, it's great entertainment, I'll give you all that much. But entertainment is for the Television Title right now."

"This is the top. This is quickly becoming a multi-level war. If you aren't on board yet with what's happening, you're already too late. Try to jump in now, and you'll just be used and abused. When I say you're disrespecting the Television Title, Daymon, I don't mean that you should sit on your hands and wait. I mean you're ignorant to how that belt can get you into the real mix. You threw away a chance that could have gotten you into this a lot more smoothly, if you were smart. Instead, you wasted your chance and now are heading into a lion's den unarmed. Don't worry, though.... we'll give you a.... humbling reception."

"And that goes for you, too, Payne. I don't expect either of you to back down from what I say, because I know you're much more likely to feel you've got even more purpose now that someone's trying to 'intimidate' you. But I have no reason to try instilling fear."

"I don't need to in order to beat you. I only tell you these things because you're completely f***ing clueless about what lies ahead of you, and I'm throwing you two a single bone. Only one of you might get it, if that. But don't say I never tried sparing you from going in completely ignorant."

"In the end, you're all no better than millions of people in this city. Full of ignorance, full of neglect to what doesn't reveal itself under the brightest lights. Sure, you'll accept the glitz and glamor... the special sites and wonderful aura of the city's celebrity-type status. But you don't see what it took to get there. You won't see the ones who could build this city up and survive, even if it cost them everything. And you don't recognize that in New ERA, I have survived just the same way. I built this place up.... I lost everything... and now I've returned to survive. Except I'm not just surviving. I'm thriving again. And not that it matters to me, but that's not something any of you are willing to except. It's only going to hurt you in the end."

"Some of you feel like I've lost something that I had one, two, three years ago. Some of you think I won't have what it takes to get the job done in that ring, when it comes to facing you all. You think I'm just 'settling' for where I'm at in this promotion, not wanting to move along."

"And your beliefs reflect precisely why I don't give a damn what people say about me-- positive, negative, whatever-- in wrestling. Your beliefs are exactly what makes me the one taking the lead, and you following."

"You take a look back, from the time I came back to this place to the present, and you tell me just what it is I've done that's given any credence to what you claim. I've honed myself, given myself more challenges than the rest of you combined. Daymon touts defeating Marx before he was Champion, all the while ignorant to the knowledge of how being World Champion changes someone. Inside and out, Marx is not the same person he was when you faced him. Whether you faced him one match prior to his winning the title, or further back, he's still a different person now! And a different wrestler. But you wouldn't understand that, now would you, Daymon? You couldn't finish off Mr. Entertainment. What makes you think you would have? You don't know what Champion means, much less World Champion. And if you'd held a belt prior to this, I'd call you a fool for your approach. It's all enough to make me want to tear you apart at Raucous... just to expose your ignorance."

"But I'm not picking and choosing. It can be any of you in that ring.... even my... partner. I don't give a damn, because none of you realize what the big picture is. You think you know? Let's find out. I say you're all full of ****! And you show it with your opinions of me. Because you have no clue what I have accomplished over the past year, how I've changed. You likely still won't, even after this match is done. You'll just return to excuses, just like Chaos is doing right now, because just like the rest of you, he would rather be ignorant to what I am than acknowledging."

"And whether we win or lose, nothing will change. This match isn't about winning and losing. It's about showing whether you are part of this echelon of NEW."

"I am. And in the coming months, whether you like it or not, you'll see I am."

"Maybe especially... as I raise up the World Heavyweight Championship."

He stands and walks off, a few of the homeless immediately scrambling to get to the empty bench. Fade out.