MAIN EVENT: Emerald City Championship: Vizier ta Seti (c) vs. Rocko Daymon
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The Shadow Pope
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Trinity
(FADEIN: on a beach at sunset. Or sunrise.
Either way, there's nobody around except for one man and the sun is low in the sky, reddish-orange. It plays with the shadows and makes the entire scene look ethereal.
Nothing in the surroundings gives any kind of clue as to where, exactly, we are.
Except for the metallic glitter around the man's waist, and the mass of hair that forms his excessively grown - in mowhawk.
The camera was slowly circling Vizier ta Seti, but he remained stoic, unmoving, with his arms folded across his bare chest.)
SETI: Anyone can win a championship in this sport. Anyone can be that much better for a count of three and take something from a superior athlete. After all, look at the succession of weak and undeserving champions that permeated this sport in the past year alone.
Castor Strife.
Anarky.
The First.
Joe the Plumber.
Each one more pathetic than the last.
Unlike the other champions in this sport, I welcome the opportunity to prove myself as the superior athlete, again and again. I don't need to sit with an overpaid suit who asks me prescripted questions about how I fight for the good people of West Nowhereville. I don't need an artsy filter on the camera, spending twenty thousand dollars to make it look like I spent five hundred. I certainly don't need a case of anemia.
All I need is an opponent across the ring, because I will defend this championship for the IWF TRIBE every night.
(Vizier unstrapped the belt as the camera swung around to a frontal view, and he held it next to his head.)
SETI: And I will defend this championship every night; if you don't have an opponent for me, I'll find my own.
This time out, it appears that my opponent is Rocko Daymon.
James Witherhold, you'll get a shot, just like everyone else. But you should be aware of a few things.
First, this is my title.
Second, if you truly were a perfect wrestler, then you wouldn't be pleading for lack of preparation time on a triple threat match. You would be ready for any match.
(Vizier laughed.)
SETI: I certainly was.
But you're yesterday's news, James... today is Rocko Daymon.
(The camera started to move again, behind Vizier.)
SETI: Rocko... Daymon.
I know all about Rocko Daymon.
(The belt readjusted and he held it over his shoulder. The camera started to move again, in the circular pattern.)
SETI: The Legend of Rocko Daymon was one of overcoming the odds. Empire Pro Wrestling, 2008. You took the Empire Pro World Championship from the supposedly unbeatable Sean Stevens. He was the man who led that promotion for half its existence and is the definitive standard bearer, even to this day, for Empire Pro.
Intimidating.
Of course, the Myth of Rocko Daymon is something less than ideal. The Myth of Rocko Daymon is one of wasted potential and an endless string of what - ifs. The Myth of Rocko Daymon began when he vacated the Empire Pro World Championship without a single defense.
Were you the most dominating champion in the history of that company? Could you have reigned longer than the Emperor himself? These are questions that can never be answered, thanks to Jason Reeves and a broken window.
(The spiral stopped on Vizier's face, curled into a sneer.)
SETI: You are a fool and a failure, Rocko.
Your responsibility was to Empire Pro Wrestling and its fans, to defend the championship that you took from a worthy opponent and to prove that you deserved to carry it. Your responsibility was to defend your home, and a petty, meaningless vendetta against a man with nothing to lose was the act of a coward.
Ask yourself, even with the added perspective of four years gone by... what did you have to gain? What did you have to lose?
(He laughed again.)
SETI: This is a rhetorical question, Rocko... you had everything to lose.
I know this, because you lost everything.
(The camera started to move in a circle again.
SETI: But who is Rocko Daymon, the man? A man who was so injured that he had to vacate his World Championship without defending it due to preventable, career ending injuries suffered four years ago. A man who disappeared off the face of the earth out of... what? Shame?
Why now, Rocko?
If you're looking for a career renaissance, I wish you good luck and the good fortune of the Gods. If you're here to treat the IWF as a stepping stone toward regaining status in Empire Pro Wrestling... we are going to have a problem.
(Camera stopped on Vizier's face again.)
SETI: The IWF is my country, Rocko, and I control who is permitted to stay.
You will not supplant me as the leader of the IWF Tribe, Rocko. I simply will not allow it.
(Pull back.)
SETI: You can always start your resurgence tomorrow. I hear James Witherhold has some free time.
FADE
(FADEIN: on a beach at sunset. Or sunrise.
Either way, there's nobody around except for one man and the sun is low in the sky, reddish-orange. It plays with the shadows and makes the entire scene look ethereal.
Nothing in the surroundings gives any kind of clue as to where, exactly, we are.
Except for the metallic glitter around the man's waist, and the mass of hair that forms his excessively grown - in mowhawk.
The camera was slowly circling Vizier ta Seti, but he remained stoic, unmoving, with his arms folded across his bare chest.)
SETI: Anyone can win a championship in this sport. Anyone can be that much better for a count of three and take something from a superior athlete. After all, look at the succession of weak and undeserving champions that permeated this sport in the past year alone.
Castor Strife.
Anarky.
The First.
Joe the Plumber.
Each one more pathetic than the last.
Unlike the other champions in this sport, I welcome the opportunity to prove myself as the superior athlete, again and again. I don't need to sit with an overpaid suit who asks me prescripted questions about how I fight for the good people of West Nowhereville. I don't need an artsy filter on the camera, spending twenty thousand dollars to make it look like I spent five hundred. I certainly don't need a case of anemia.
All I need is an opponent across the ring, because I will defend this championship for the IWF TRIBE every night.
(Vizier unstrapped the belt as the camera swung around to a frontal view, and he held it next to his head.)
SETI: And I will defend this championship every night; if you don't have an opponent for me, I'll find my own.
This time out, it appears that my opponent is Rocko Daymon.
James Witherhold, you'll get a shot, just like everyone else. But you should be aware of a few things.
First, this is my title.
Second, if you truly were a perfect wrestler, then you wouldn't be pleading for lack of preparation time on a triple threat match. You would be ready for any match.
(Vizier laughed.)
SETI: I certainly was.
But you're yesterday's news, James... today is Rocko Daymon.
(The camera started to move again, behind Vizier.)
SETI: Rocko... Daymon.
I know all about Rocko Daymon.
(The belt readjusted and he held it over his shoulder. The camera started to move again, in the circular pattern.)
SETI: The Legend of Rocko Daymon was one of overcoming the odds. Empire Pro Wrestling, 2008. You took the Empire Pro World Championship from the supposedly unbeatable Sean Stevens. He was the man who led that promotion for half its existence and is the definitive standard bearer, even to this day, for Empire Pro.
Intimidating.
Of course, the Myth of Rocko Daymon is something less than ideal. The Myth of Rocko Daymon is one of wasted potential and an endless string of what - ifs. The Myth of Rocko Daymon began when he vacated the Empire Pro World Championship without a single defense.
Were you the most dominating champion in the history of that company? Could you have reigned longer than the Emperor himself? These are questions that can never be answered, thanks to Jason Reeves and a broken window.
(The spiral stopped on Vizier's face, curled into a sneer.)
SETI: You are a fool and a failure, Rocko.
Your responsibility was to Empire Pro Wrestling and its fans, to defend the championship that you took from a worthy opponent and to prove that you deserved to carry it. Your responsibility was to defend your home, and a petty, meaningless vendetta against a man with nothing to lose was the act of a coward.
Ask yourself, even with the added perspective of four years gone by... what did you have to gain? What did you have to lose?
(He laughed again.)
SETI: This is a rhetorical question, Rocko... you had everything to lose.
I know this, because you lost everything.
(The camera started to move in a circle again.
SETI: But who is Rocko Daymon, the man? A man who was so injured that he had to vacate his World Championship without defending it due to preventable, career ending injuries suffered four years ago. A man who disappeared off the face of the earth out of... what? Shame?
Why now, Rocko?
If you're looking for a career renaissance, I wish you good luck and the good fortune of the Gods. If you're here to treat the IWF as a stepping stone toward regaining status in Empire Pro Wrestling... we are going to have a problem.
(Camera stopped on Vizier's face again.)
SETI: The IWF is my country, Rocko, and I control who is permitted to stay.
You will not supplant me as the leader of the IWF Tribe, Rocko. I simply will not allow it.
(Pull back.)
SETI: You can always start your resurgence tomorrow. I hear James Witherhold has some free time.
FADE