TBirdSCIL
League Member
All RP for this card goes here...
Nemesis vs. Larry Tact
- Thread starter TBirdSCIL
- Start date
Stepping back onto the path.....
[updated:LAST EDITED ON Jan-23-03 AT 08:49 PM (EST)]A shot of a cityscape, taken from high above begins the scene. Cars and people look smaller from this apartment, although it isn't very high up, so they aren't near the amusing size of stompable lifeforms. The streets are busy today, as is the case just about everyday; skyscrapers reach up into the cloudy blue, and some smoke can even be seen coming from a nearby set of factory smokestacks.
The shot then zooms out, and our attention is turned from the outside to the inside, as we see an apartment setting, bare as it might seem. There are a couple sofas in this room, as well as a cabinet-like structure with a television in the main compartment, and on either side a small collection of tapes, CDs, and DVDs. Although there are a few other things decorating the room, there isn't much, and this is where we are centered at the time. A ceiling fan is set to a low light, giving the room a dim look. A person comes walking into the room from another, and spots the cameraman, who sets the camera down and begins to say something, but is cut off. Unfortunately, the camera now affords us a pretty crappy view: that of the blue carpeted floor. It's a...nice, clean carpet.
"Comfortable?"
Cameraman: Eh....it's never all that comfortable to hold this hunk-uh-junk up.
"Oh...sure. I wouldn't know."
CM: Now that you mention it, though, a seat would be nice....
The person snickers for a moment, but then stops and scoffs, as if realizing the cameraman is serious.
"Just sit on the windowsill or something."
CM: Uh....right...
A few seconds of silence pass, then the camera is replaced in its prior position, on the shoulder of the cameraman. The other man stands behind the open cabinet, obscuring his figure. After some shuffling and mumbling from this guy, he turns and closes the cabinet.
"Where did it go? I had it right...ah, right here."
He picks up a tape and inserts it into a slot under the TV, assumed to be a VCR. The man then presses a button on the tape, grabs the remote, and spins around, falling on the couch in a laxed viewing position. He motions to the cameraman.
"You aren't going to be able to see anything from there. Move over here..."
CM: But you said I could sit on--
"I said 'the windowsill or something'...you should've chose 'or something.' Stop wasting time, get your lazy ##### over here, and sit on the chair behind the sofa."
The cameraman moves over to the chair, and now we see the TV is showing a clip of Nemesis in the ring, speaking at the GLCWs latest supercard, 'Massive Assault.' The man on the sofa chuckles a little.
"Now..here we have Ellis Scott....a.k.a. a lot of things...this time we're gonna go with a.k.a. Nemesis. Let's listen in on his inspiring words from 'Massive Assault,' as he makes a heart-felt proclamation to the fans."
The volume is increased, and we hear Nemesis speaking..
Nemesis: (...) I'm just here to let you know, Grand Rapids, and all of the GLCW fans from now and into the future... your man has come. No... I'm no Pandorian, nor do I have any beef with any. No, I'm not a decorated Olympic champion. No... I am nowhere near the biggest guy in this company. What I am... is one of you. On the sidelines these past few months, I have gotten to sit back, and actually watch wrestling as a fan. My mild stardom in feds like the IWF fell to the wayside quickly after I left that organization, due to personal issues. Those issues have since been resolved, and my life put right back on track.
The video is paused.
"Like I said...just a real heart-felt, tear-jerker. It even sounds half-genuine. But let's listen just a little longer...."
NEMESIS: "I know I've got a lot of past to deal with still, but I am here tonight to tell the world that the NEMESIS is BACK! (crowd pops at his name) The NEMESIS is back, and back to do what he does best, rectify the wrongs of the GLCW.
The video is stopped this time, and then the "FF" symbol appears on the television, as the tape fast forwards.
"Look at that, Ellis! You even got a few cheers from the fans. I never was one to put much stock in their judgment, though. I know when something isn't right...and Ellis, you talking about being just, moral, and fair falls under the 'something stinks' column. The fans cheering for you falls under the 'unordinary' column, but like I said, those Midwesterners....well, they aren't necessarily that quick. But I don't trust you. There's nothing to trust. The chances of your words being genuine are as high as the chances of finding the majority of a crowd at an England-Ireland soccer game being sober."
The man stops the tape.
"The question that your little speech brings to my mind, Ellis, is....can you do what this man couldn't..?"
::Click::
ANARKY: "No, Mael...I just can't sit at home and watch pretenders to the throne like you anymore. You want to BE a champion, Mael? Then you step into the ring with the ONLY MAN worthy of such a title... ME."
"Can you bury your ego, Ellis? Because if not, then you're no different than him. If not...then you're no different than you ever were back in the IWF."
::Clickitty-click::
ANARKY: "No, Mael... you're no champion. Lying at my feet, just like everyone else... just like you were all BORN TO DO. But you go ahead, and you pretend,
because that's what everyone wants you to do.
The tape is stopped now, and the remote is tossed aside. The guy on the sofa snaps his fingers and points to a spot in front of the television. His tall stature is matched by a solid build. His hair is short, but long enough to be layered, and spiked up in several directions. The change is in the fact that his hair is now bleach blonde, rather than its natural light brown. As the cameraman rounds on the guy and stands in position, we see the olive green eyes and calm faced figure of Larry Tact staring back at us.
Tact: Are you just pretending, as well, Nemesis? I'd say you were for sure, but I also know that you're all-too-filled with twists.....but I'll just leave it at that. It's ironic, though, that upon both of our returns to wrestling, we find each other once again. Larry Tact and Nemesis; not once more, not one more time...just once again. However, much has changed. In the past year, I've been through Hell and now back I come. I'm not here to fit any mold, like you say you're going to try doing, Nemesis. I'll have no problem putting your little promises to the test. Because I'm not trusted anymore, anyhow. Even after that damn judge was connected to the very fraud that got me framed, and left me in the gutter....my corporate peers still won't take the guilty label away. And in terms of wrestling? When you've been out of the loop for as long as I have, you get left behind. It's something I know, and so I don't expect any respect from anyone here. After all, a wrestler is the reason that I was framed in the first place....and so my trust will not be placed in this industry, as if it were some donation....never again.
Tact leans forward and clasps his hands together, propping the elbows on his knees. His expression, which has darkened more as he has continued speaking, is now a very cold expression.
Tact: The only thing you have to be clear about, when it comes to this match, Nemesis, is that Larry Tact comes in believing nothing and nobody. I don't care how good a job the referees are said to have done, and I don't care if you, Malec, Krusher, or the whole roster makes a hundred thousand vows toward good will and upholding the rules. I don't buy any of it. I'll decide what to believe.
Tact pauses and chuckles again.
Tact: But I shouldn't mislead all those people who don't know of me. First and foremost, the one thing I always have been, am, and will be is a wrestler. Cheating isn't really my style, but I won't mind bending the rules if I feel it interests me. But if there's one thing I've always been able to confide in, it's my skills as a wrestler. I know I'm new here, so I won't make such cocky boasts as to say I'm "the best wrestler in the world today"....hmm...though it does sound oh-so-familiar around these parts. I don't need to state I'm the best, though, like some insecure baby. Nobody would believe me, anyway, so why bother? No.....instead, I'll just show it through my work. And eventually, when it will no longer be able to be ignored, I will get what I deserve here. Until then, I can only wait and watch....humbling to those who confront me along the way.
Tact puts one hand up to his throat and makes the slicing motion across his neck. Fade out.
[updated:LAST EDITED ON Jan-23-03 AT 08:49 PM (EST)]A shot of a cityscape, taken from high above begins the scene. Cars and people look smaller from this apartment, although it isn't very high up, so they aren't near the amusing size of stompable lifeforms. The streets are busy today, as is the case just about everyday; skyscrapers reach up into the cloudy blue, and some smoke can even be seen coming from a nearby set of factory smokestacks.
The shot then zooms out, and our attention is turned from the outside to the inside, as we see an apartment setting, bare as it might seem. There are a couple sofas in this room, as well as a cabinet-like structure with a television in the main compartment, and on either side a small collection of tapes, CDs, and DVDs. Although there are a few other things decorating the room, there isn't much, and this is where we are centered at the time. A ceiling fan is set to a low light, giving the room a dim look. A person comes walking into the room from another, and spots the cameraman, who sets the camera down and begins to say something, but is cut off. Unfortunately, the camera now affords us a pretty crappy view: that of the blue carpeted floor. It's a...nice, clean carpet.
"Comfortable?"
Cameraman: Eh....it's never all that comfortable to hold this hunk-uh-junk up.
"Oh...sure. I wouldn't know."
CM: Now that you mention it, though, a seat would be nice....
The person snickers for a moment, but then stops and scoffs, as if realizing the cameraman is serious.
"Just sit on the windowsill or something."
CM: Uh....right...
A few seconds of silence pass, then the camera is replaced in its prior position, on the shoulder of the cameraman. The other man stands behind the open cabinet, obscuring his figure. After some shuffling and mumbling from this guy, he turns and closes the cabinet.
"Where did it go? I had it right...ah, right here."
He picks up a tape and inserts it into a slot under the TV, assumed to be a VCR. The man then presses a button on the tape, grabs the remote, and spins around, falling on the couch in a laxed viewing position. He motions to the cameraman.
"You aren't going to be able to see anything from there. Move over here..."
CM: But you said I could sit on--
"I said 'the windowsill or something'...you should've chose 'or something.' Stop wasting time, get your lazy ##### over here, and sit on the chair behind the sofa."
The cameraman moves over to the chair, and now we see the TV is showing a clip of Nemesis in the ring, speaking at the GLCWs latest supercard, 'Massive Assault.' The man on the sofa chuckles a little.
"Now..here we have Ellis Scott....a.k.a. a lot of things...this time we're gonna go with a.k.a. Nemesis. Let's listen in on his inspiring words from 'Massive Assault,' as he makes a heart-felt proclamation to the fans."
The volume is increased, and we hear Nemesis speaking..
Nemesis: (...) I'm just here to let you know, Grand Rapids, and all of the GLCW fans from now and into the future... your man has come. No... I'm no Pandorian, nor do I have any beef with any. No, I'm not a decorated Olympic champion. No... I am nowhere near the biggest guy in this company. What I am... is one of you. On the sidelines these past few months, I have gotten to sit back, and actually watch wrestling as a fan. My mild stardom in feds like the IWF fell to the wayside quickly after I left that organization, due to personal issues. Those issues have since been resolved, and my life put right back on track.
The video is paused.
"Like I said...just a real heart-felt, tear-jerker. It even sounds half-genuine. But let's listen just a little longer...."
NEMESIS: "I know I've got a lot of past to deal with still, but I am here tonight to tell the world that the NEMESIS is BACK! (crowd pops at his name) The NEMESIS is back, and back to do what he does best, rectify the wrongs of the GLCW.
The video is stopped this time, and then the "FF" symbol appears on the television, as the tape fast forwards.
"Look at that, Ellis! You even got a few cheers from the fans. I never was one to put much stock in their judgment, though. I know when something isn't right...and Ellis, you talking about being just, moral, and fair falls under the 'something stinks' column. The fans cheering for you falls under the 'unordinary' column, but like I said, those Midwesterners....well, they aren't necessarily that quick. But I don't trust you. There's nothing to trust. The chances of your words being genuine are as high as the chances of finding the majority of a crowd at an England-Ireland soccer game being sober."
The man stops the tape.
"The question that your little speech brings to my mind, Ellis, is....can you do what this man couldn't..?"
::Click::
ANARKY: "No, Mael...I just can't sit at home and watch pretenders to the throne like you anymore. You want to BE a champion, Mael? Then you step into the ring with the ONLY MAN worthy of such a title... ME."
"Can you bury your ego, Ellis? Because if not, then you're no different than him. If not...then you're no different than you ever were back in the IWF."
::Clickitty-click::
ANARKY: "No, Mael... you're no champion. Lying at my feet, just like everyone else... just like you were all BORN TO DO. But you go ahead, and you pretend,
because that's what everyone wants you to do.
The tape is stopped now, and the remote is tossed aside. The guy on the sofa snaps his fingers and points to a spot in front of the television. His tall stature is matched by a solid build. His hair is short, but long enough to be layered, and spiked up in several directions. The change is in the fact that his hair is now bleach blonde, rather than its natural light brown. As the cameraman rounds on the guy and stands in position, we see the olive green eyes and calm faced figure of Larry Tact staring back at us.
Tact: Are you just pretending, as well, Nemesis? I'd say you were for sure, but I also know that you're all-too-filled with twists.....but I'll just leave it at that. It's ironic, though, that upon both of our returns to wrestling, we find each other once again. Larry Tact and Nemesis; not once more, not one more time...just once again. However, much has changed. In the past year, I've been through Hell and now back I come. I'm not here to fit any mold, like you say you're going to try doing, Nemesis. I'll have no problem putting your little promises to the test. Because I'm not trusted anymore, anyhow. Even after that damn judge was connected to the very fraud that got me framed, and left me in the gutter....my corporate peers still won't take the guilty label away. And in terms of wrestling? When you've been out of the loop for as long as I have, you get left behind. It's something I know, and so I don't expect any respect from anyone here. After all, a wrestler is the reason that I was framed in the first place....and so my trust will not be placed in this industry, as if it were some donation....never again.
Tact leans forward and clasps his hands together, propping the elbows on his knees. His expression, which has darkened more as he has continued speaking, is now a very cold expression.
Tact: The only thing you have to be clear about, when it comes to this match, Nemesis, is that Larry Tact comes in believing nothing and nobody. I don't care how good a job the referees are said to have done, and I don't care if you, Malec, Krusher, or the whole roster makes a hundred thousand vows toward good will and upholding the rules. I don't buy any of it. I'll decide what to believe.
Tact pauses and chuckles again.
Tact: But I shouldn't mislead all those people who don't know of me. First and foremost, the one thing I always have been, am, and will be is a wrestler. Cheating isn't really my style, but I won't mind bending the rules if I feel it interests me. But if there's one thing I've always been able to confide in, it's my skills as a wrestler. I know I'm new here, so I won't make such cocky boasts as to say I'm "the best wrestler in the world today"....hmm...though it does sound oh-so-familiar around these parts. I don't need to state I'm the best, though, like some insecure baby. Nobody would believe me, anyway, so why bother? No.....instead, I'll just show it through my work. And eventually, when it will no longer be able to be ignored, I will get what I deserve here. Until then, I can only wait and watch....humbling to those who confront me along the way.
Tact puts one hand up to his throat and makes the slicing motion across his neck. Fade out.
PhantomZ
League Member
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- Jan 1, 2000
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A Few New Tricks...
FADE IN…
(Sparkling water… a bright, blue sky… sun reflected in every direction. Simple, quiet, cold. The water shows many ripples, but all are so little. Nothing near big waves, nothing near whitecaps. The camera pans in towards shore, and the beach is cluttered with snow and fallen brush from storms. The area around too, is caked in a light frost of snow and ice, and many more branches have fallen, back behind the beach. In the background, a dark outline of a cabin can be seen. Nothing big or fancy. Simple, quiet, cold.
A man sits on a dock, connected to the back porch of the cabin. He sits, his left leg bent and pulled toward his chest, his right allowed to stretch in front of him. He is barefoot, wearing rolled up khaki pants. He dons a thick gray sweater, and a t-shirt underneath. Under the shirt he wears a silver chain that can be seen going around his neckline. If there’s a pendant on the chain, we can’t tell just yet, since it’s hidden—tucked underneath his shirts. The scene is calm, and wildlife seems mute for now. He sits, just gazing out over the water. Simple, quiet, cold.
The camera pans around to view his profile from his right side, while getting a good look at the shoreline past his right, showing a similar shot of frost down the beach. His face is cleanly-shaven, his hair well kept, slicked back and styled. His eyes, dark as ever, shimmer in the sunlight as they never have. His face is relaxed, not so tense as it once was. A mischievous smirk on his face. An expression that not too long ago, was his trademark.)
NEMESIS: It certainly has been a long time, eh Larry? We’ve been out of action for just about the same amount of time, so I know exactly how you feel, about getting left behind. Life goes on while we’re out of the picture, storylines progress, businesses flop, champions are made and legends are put to rest. It’s only natural to be forgotten. It’s only natural to fight to get back whatever it was that made one love this business when it’s lost for whatever reason. From obscurity and personal hardship, one must rise to the occasion. One must step out from the herd, and seen again for what they are, what they were, and what they always have been.
During my absence, I spent a lot of time reflecting, something I picked up from you. Thought about all the things I had done in my life, particularly in this career. The good things, the bad things, what I was proud of, ashamed of, all of it. I don’t know if every guy here knows exactly why they joined the ranks of wrestling, and I’m sure many of them have differences between why they joined, and why they’ve stuck around. I used to be someone like that. I joined for one reason and stayed for another. That however… has come to an end.
(The man stretches his right leg out just a bit further, and moves it just so it dangles in the icy water. He doesn’t so much as flinch, merely tip toes on the cool surface gently as the dock sways. He continues…)
NEMESIS: Now, I’ve never been much for interviews, so I’m not really sure if there are any pressing questions I should answer. Most of them, like where I’ve been exactly, are irrelevant. However, there are a few things I want to explain, especially in terms of my sincerity. Larry, you seem to doubt it. Doubt the fact that I have returned to my aspirations of being an amazing wrestler. We all here, in some form or another, wrestlers. Some purer than others, with various technique and style. I joined wrestling for one reason, and I stay in this game for that *same* reason now.
I am here to entertain the fans…
Now, I mentioned titles… and that is simply a part of my purpose. The fans deserve to have a champion who can entertain them. Cause them to lose their breath during a match, to make their hearts skip a beat. To let them experience, if only for a brief moment, something like the excitement that occurs when one man squares off against another in the ring, with so much on the line, be it titles, fame, bragging rights or merely another “W.” With that, I am also here to make sure none of them have to endure the disappoint of watching a match end due to under-handed tactics from either competitor, if I can help it.
Nemesis is Retribution
Certainly everyone has been wronged in the past. Most people have wronged others in the past as well. I know how the world works, and I am prepared to deal with that. I have wronged many… and I am truly sorry for most of those I have done. Others, I am still coming to terms with. I am healing and I will continue to heal as time goes on. Forgiveness may not come, but it is not necessary for me to survive. I will thrive in the GLCW, no matter what anyone else may have planned.
(The man sits up, foot trickles out of the water. He sighs, and stands up, and stretches. He bends down to pick up the leather book and tucks it under his arm. He takes one last look over the lake before turning back and peering directly into the camera. His smirk still remains and even brightens slightly as he continues.)
NEMESIS: Larry, I know you know this… but GLCW… don’t be fooled by my calm words. The man I am now is not quite the same as who I am in the ring. Do not find comedy in my words of healing, change, and growth… because in the end… it will only hurt you. Larry, you doubt my sincerity… and understandably. I would to, if I were you. But it does not seem you either have the purest of intentions in joining the GLCW. You’ve grown a lot since we last met… and you’ve gotten more grim as well. I know what you’ve been through and it makes sense there’d be a change. But so bitter… so angry. I only hope you know the best ways to handle those emotions.
I am Truth.
I know it won’t matter much to you, in your current state… but I do respect you. If for nothing else than the many bouts we’ve already had and the many more of yours I have seen. You’re an incredible wrestler and your financial troubles will not have slowed you down one bit once you get back into the ring. I can bury my once fiery and ugly ego. Lay it to rest and hope something more useful and fruitful will flourish in its place. But one can only hope in that respect. And while it may not help, you can trust my Larry. I’m not sure how to prove such a thing to you just yet… but there may be a time when I stumble upon a way to make you see. Hopefully that will come sooner rather than later.
I Leave You with This
Larry, I know you know better than to doubt me. I know you understand it is not wise to under-estimate me, just as I know the same of you. But I would like to issue you a challenge. No, not to make this match No DQ, or to put it in a electric cage, or to set a monetary wager on the match. Rather, I challenge you to help me make this match the one to steal the show. Just because we are not top-billed does not mean we need to show the fans and the boys in the back why we are right where we are on the card. Let’s prove Malec wrong and let’s blow the GLCW fans away with a match from two “newcomers” they may have never seen before. And if they have seen us, all the better to entertain those who remember and give them a reason to take notice. Let us make our debut match one for the fans and one for the ages.
(The man’s stare leaves the camera, for one final glimpse across the mirroring water. He quickly turns, adjusts the leather book under his arm and walks back up to the cabin.)
FADE OUT.
FADE IN…
(Sparkling water… a bright, blue sky… sun reflected in every direction. Simple, quiet, cold. The water shows many ripples, but all are so little. Nothing near big waves, nothing near whitecaps. The camera pans in towards shore, and the beach is cluttered with snow and fallen brush from storms. The area around too, is caked in a light frost of snow and ice, and many more branches have fallen, back behind the beach. In the background, a dark outline of a cabin can be seen. Nothing big or fancy. Simple, quiet, cold.
A man sits on a dock, connected to the back porch of the cabin. He sits, his left leg bent and pulled toward his chest, his right allowed to stretch in front of him. He is barefoot, wearing rolled up khaki pants. He dons a thick gray sweater, and a t-shirt underneath. Under the shirt he wears a silver chain that can be seen going around his neckline. If there’s a pendant on the chain, we can’t tell just yet, since it’s hidden—tucked underneath his shirts. The scene is calm, and wildlife seems mute for now. He sits, just gazing out over the water. Simple, quiet, cold.
The camera pans around to view his profile from his right side, while getting a good look at the shoreline past his right, showing a similar shot of frost down the beach. His face is cleanly-shaven, his hair well kept, slicked back and styled. His eyes, dark as ever, shimmer in the sunlight as they never have. His face is relaxed, not so tense as it once was. A mischievous smirk on his face. An expression that not too long ago, was his trademark.)
NEMESIS: It certainly has been a long time, eh Larry? We’ve been out of action for just about the same amount of time, so I know exactly how you feel, about getting left behind. Life goes on while we’re out of the picture, storylines progress, businesses flop, champions are made and legends are put to rest. It’s only natural to be forgotten. It’s only natural to fight to get back whatever it was that made one love this business when it’s lost for whatever reason. From obscurity and personal hardship, one must rise to the occasion. One must step out from the herd, and seen again for what they are, what they were, and what they always have been.
During my absence, I spent a lot of time reflecting, something I picked up from you. Thought about all the things I had done in my life, particularly in this career. The good things, the bad things, what I was proud of, ashamed of, all of it. I don’t know if every guy here knows exactly why they joined the ranks of wrestling, and I’m sure many of them have differences between why they joined, and why they’ve stuck around. I used to be someone like that. I joined for one reason and stayed for another. That however… has come to an end.
(The man stretches his right leg out just a bit further, and moves it just so it dangles in the icy water. He doesn’t so much as flinch, merely tip toes on the cool surface gently as the dock sways. He continues…)
NEMESIS: Now, I’ve never been much for interviews, so I’m not really sure if there are any pressing questions I should answer. Most of them, like where I’ve been exactly, are irrelevant. However, there are a few things I want to explain, especially in terms of my sincerity. Larry, you seem to doubt it. Doubt the fact that I have returned to my aspirations of being an amazing wrestler. We all here, in some form or another, wrestlers. Some purer than others, with various technique and style. I joined wrestling for one reason, and I stay in this game for that *same* reason now.
I am here to entertain the fans…
Now, I mentioned titles… and that is simply a part of my purpose. The fans deserve to have a champion who can entertain them. Cause them to lose their breath during a match, to make their hearts skip a beat. To let them experience, if only for a brief moment, something like the excitement that occurs when one man squares off against another in the ring, with so much on the line, be it titles, fame, bragging rights or merely another “W.” With that, I am also here to make sure none of them have to endure the disappoint of watching a match end due to under-handed tactics from either competitor, if I can help it.
Nemesis is Retribution
Certainly everyone has been wronged in the past. Most people have wronged others in the past as well. I know how the world works, and I am prepared to deal with that. I have wronged many… and I am truly sorry for most of those I have done. Others, I am still coming to terms with. I am healing and I will continue to heal as time goes on. Forgiveness may not come, but it is not necessary for me to survive. I will thrive in the GLCW, no matter what anyone else may have planned.
(The man sits up, foot trickles out of the water. He sighs, and stands up, and stretches. He bends down to pick up the leather book and tucks it under his arm. He takes one last look over the lake before turning back and peering directly into the camera. His smirk still remains and even brightens slightly as he continues.)
NEMESIS: Larry, I know you know this… but GLCW… don’t be fooled by my calm words. The man I am now is not quite the same as who I am in the ring. Do not find comedy in my words of healing, change, and growth… because in the end… it will only hurt you. Larry, you doubt my sincerity… and understandably. I would to, if I were you. But it does not seem you either have the purest of intentions in joining the GLCW. You’ve grown a lot since we last met… and you’ve gotten more grim as well. I know what you’ve been through and it makes sense there’d be a change. But so bitter… so angry. I only hope you know the best ways to handle those emotions.
I am Truth.
I know it won’t matter much to you, in your current state… but I do respect you. If for nothing else than the many bouts we’ve already had and the many more of yours I have seen. You’re an incredible wrestler and your financial troubles will not have slowed you down one bit once you get back into the ring. I can bury my once fiery and ugly ego. Lay it to rest and hope something more useful and fruitful will flourish in its place. But one can only hope in that respect. And while it may not help, you can trust my Larry. I’m not sure how to prove such a thing to you just yet… but there may be a time when I stumble upon a way to make you see. Hopefully that will come sooner rather than later.
I Leave You with This
Larry, I know you know better than to doubt me. I know you understand it is not wise to under-estimate me, just as I know the same of you. But I would like to issue you a challenge. No, not to make this match No DQ, or to put it in a electric cage, or to set a monetary wager on the match. Rather, I challenge you to help me make this match the one to steal the show. Just because we are not top-billed does not mean we need to show the fans and the boys in the back why we are right where we are on the card. Let’s prove Malec wrong and let’s blow the GLCW fans away with a match from two “newcomers” they may have never seen before. And if they have seen us, all the better to entertain those who remember and give them a reason to take notice. Let us make our debut match one for the fans and one for the ages.
(The man’s stare leaves the camera, for one final glimpse across the mirroring water. He quickly turns, adjusts the leather book under his arm and walks back up to the cabin.)
FADE OUT.
Background check.....
A very decorated room, assumably inside the apartment of Larry Tact. All the sides have, or are decorated with, something unique. One side has a trophy case, although right now only a few titles fill the bottom couple shelves. Another side has a cabinet, with shelves and shelves of tapes stacked and packed within it. A wall elsewhere has promotional posters of various things; not just wrestling, but advertisements for other products as well. There are assorted things around the room, but the last wall we come to, the doorside wall, has a number of pictures adorning it. At least some, if not all, are the faces of wrestlers, and Larry Tact stands in front of this wall. He has on a pair of black workout pants, sneakers, and a sleeveless gray shirt. His body exhibits calm, though his expression has a tinge of what might be described as spite on it.
Tact: I know you've been through a lot of turmoil in your time, Nemesis. And, from what I've witnessed, it is mostly due to your actions. However, my grief and pain is not something you have experienced, to my knowledge. I won't go into it much, as it isn't terribly relevant to our coming match. I'm also tired of telling the story of my life to the masses, and in effect making it some public spectacle. Although perhaps I'll write a book about it someday, so all the drama-starved crazies can indulge. That way, at least it'll make me an extra few bucks. But that time is certainly not now.
Tact turns to a side profile, looking to the wall of pictures.
Tact: This is what I'd like to bring to attention right now. I call it....well, I don't have any particular name for it. Everyone has a name for these things, so the most original idea is to just not have any name for it. Regardless, though...it is a list of wrestlers that I wish to face, for whatever reason I may have. But among those on this wall lay the specters of my past.
Tact points to one of the pictures.
Tact: Here we have KRoW, the man who I believe, at least, caused all the crap that led to my...problems of the past year or so. I would find him and take him out, personally, but (points to another picture) Shawn Hart has already taken care of it for me. Now KRoW is off somewhere, nursing the neck injury Hart gave him, his career laid to rest. Ironic that, of all people, I have Shawn Hart to thank. Even so...I'd rather punk the little prick out, before thanking him.
Tact searches around and then points to two pictures, side-by-side.
Tact: Doc Silver....and Billy Matthews. Silver is probably the most elusive on this wall. He and Matthews did a number on me, and I mean to return the favor to them someday. It's a shame he didn't follow Golem here; as Maelstrom, Rabesque, Jon Savage, myself and others from the WWL have. I'd be happy to return the favor he did for me....months in the hospital and all.
Tact returns to his original facing position, arms crossed.
Tact: Those are the recent ones that come to mind. Of course there are others -- there always are -- but again...that whole 'public spectacle' thing. My financial issues are in order, and I have actually taken the past year to dive into other fields of interest. You see, I go beyond just wrestling, Nemesis. I could have been more 'popular' with the general public, who are always looking for a way to scrutinize this industry.
Tact continues over to the wall of posters. He stands next to one with him on it, a very attractive model with an arm wrapped around his, her other hand caressing his face as he smiles. Tact has an arm wrapped around her shoulders, while coolly holding a bottle of suntan lotion in his hand.
Tact: It's funny how one day, your life can be redirected into the gutter....and then eight or so months later, another day can turn it back towards the light. What I'm getting at is that, apparently, I've got 'the stuff' to be a real marketer. A money maker. And make money I did, for myself in particular, in a variety of advertisements. That's just one of the interesting things I managed to fall into the graces of. So you see, I didn't need to come back. You talk about reasons, and what drives a wrestler to come into and stay in this business. Well, I found out that, "hey, what the hell am I staying in this ring for? To get abused in matches that aren't even recognized by the show promoters? Promoters who won't cover my medical, because I have no legal means of getting an official match or contract? Honestly....what am I smoking?!" It was ridiculous, especially when I could make quick cash standing, holding a bottle of body lotion, while being surrounded by attractive women. The biggest damage I could take was fatigue from all the....action.
A grin forms on Tact's face. He walks over to the trophy case, and sits down in front of it. He momentarily points a thumb at the case, with the replica belts inside.
Tact: But as much as I tried, I could never really forget about wrestling. Tried to stop watching televised events....lasted a week or two. If I ever went on a radio show to promote one of the products I was signed to advertise, what were the questions that always manage to creep their ways in? "So, are you looking at a return to wrestling in the near future?" "Is this promoting a sign that Larry Tact will be back in wrestling?" "What's the timetable for your return to the ring?" Because that's the biggest thing I'm known for, is my wrestling career. My dealings in the business world, while prosperous, couldn't be discerned from all the other stock market people. Not that my reputation there hasn't tanked, and isn't still in the gutter, anyway. It was nice while it lasted, though. But wrestling was my niche. My injuries were healed, I was physically fit as ever....but my heart was weak to wrestling. I had no desire to come back. So the occasional fan coming up and wanting to know the 'inside story' got a pretty disappointing answer. Larry Tact wasn't coming back. A couple months in a hospital makes someone do a lot of thinking. I had come into wrestling to showcase my skills, prove that I was the best wrestler in whatever promotion I joined, and rise up to the top of that promotion. Just as my original moniker indicated, when I stepped into the ring, it would be "showtime." But it wasn't "showtime." It was "go time"; time for me and wrestling to part ways. And honestly, I was satisfied for a little while. I was resolved to the 'truth' being that wrestling wasn't in my plans anymore. I believed I had buried it....just another specter, six feet under. What I didn't grasp was that specters are astral, and burying them doesn't keep them away forever. And then there were these.....
Tact taps on the glass front of the case.
Tact: At first, they were just sitting pretty in this case, which isn't very filled might I add. However, I didn't want to get rid of them, because they were a successful part of my life, and at least deserved to be acknowledged as such. Also, I wasn't about to reject things I achieved due to success in my life. I needed to remember the positive things, to keep me hopeful that good times lay ahead. But eventually, the questions, occasional fan, and these straps came to be more than just a remembrance. Eventually, there was a spark in my heart. And that spark became a candlelight. That candlelight was placed under some firewood, and eventually...the woodpile caught fire. By then, it was only a matter of time....a court appeal's time, in fact. This case might not be totally filled, or even half filled. But that's fine, because titles aren't what I entered the ring for in the first place. It was to prove that I am the best wrestler. However, that is no longer the case.
Tact gets up from the floor, and passes by the cabinet of tapes as he moves towards the wall with the wrestlers' pictures on it.
Tact: This room is how I dealt with my stress and frustration, Nemesis. I got organized. I put my past, present, and future in order. Now I return, a more focused man. A more versatile wrestler. Yes, a more mature person, as well. I return with the knowledge that there is no one single 'best' of this industry. There are, however, people at the top of every promotion. And so that is where I set my standard, just as I always have....at the top. But there is still one specter -- or should I say, Spectre -- that has eluded me for some time. He contends with Silver as one of the most elusive of my past.
Tact moves from where he is standing, and a picture of Ellis Scott is one among those on the wall.
Tact: I've been waiting a good long while for you to come back, Nemesis. You had, briefly, last year, but I missed the chance then. Malec may be a jack***, but aren't most successful businessmen? I could say, with confidence, that King Krusher is a big doof....because aren't most security officials? (chuckles) Malec and Krusher don't concern me, though. If they try to make things unnecessarily complicated for me, I won't hesitate to make them regret it. But as long as Malec looks on his roster sheet and writes me my paychecks, he doesn't have to so much as remember my name. As long as Krusher stays out of my way, and out of my face, I won't make him look bad....and maybe I won't look at Lady V, either.
Tact snickers, but then clears his throat and becomes quite stern with his tone.
Tact: As for you, Nemesis....well, all you have to do is bring your best to that ring, and you'll have your request granted. Just as I said, I aim for the top, and I won't bring my game down for anyone. We're both fresh, which will make your defeat at my hands all the more pleasing. You see, you are the only one that I have tried and not been able to rectify defeat against before, Nemesis. Be proud of that, and remember the feeling....because I mean to repair that problem very soon. When we meet in the ring, it will not be for a title. It will not be for pride, or vengeance. It will not be for the fans. It will not be to show anything to Malec, or any of the other wrestlers in the GLCW. They are all simply lucky enough to find themselves watching two of the most concealed diamonds in the rough. But this match is for two reasons, and two reasons alone. Those reasons being, of course, yours and mine for coming back. You have stated yours...or some of yours. I have already stated that I am not in it to prove myself to be the best wrestler in the GLCW. I don't need to prove that anymore. Gold? I still remain steadfast in the fact that I am not in it for gold. If any GLCW wrestlers doubt me, I'll reintroduce you to my trophy case. If the belts come into the picture, then all the better, but I'm more concerned with the Champion, the person, than the strap. Because it is the wrestler who makes the belt, not the belt who makes the wrestler. The primary reason for my return, though....is because I can't stay away. I will wrestle again because I have the desire to, and right now, there just isn't more to it than that, though perhaps there will be, eventually. It might not be a match for the ages, Nemesis.....
Tact walks to the case of multimedia and pats it.
Tact: ...but it will be one for the records. A new beginning, one in which I am determined to start with a victory.
Tact now walks toward the open doorway, but stops and leans in the frame, a smirk on his face.
Tact: The only other things I have to say, I say to the GLCW as a whole. As much talking as I will do here, my actions in the ring always speak my final words for me. I know that I'll bring my best, so let's see if you bring something to top that....or if you get humbled in that ring, and realize that you were just....tactilized.......
Tact trails off with his last word as he walks out of the room. The camera pans back over to the wall of pictures, and we see some familiar faces, right in line next to that of Nemesis: Jon Savage, Michael Manson, Maelstrom, Jean Rabesque...and Golem. Fade out.
A very decorated room, assumably inside the apartment of Larry Tact. All the sides have, or are decorated with, something unique. One side has a trophy case, although right now only a few titles fill the bottom couple shelves. Another side has a cabinet, with shelves and shelves of tapes stacked and packed within it. A wall elsewhere has promotional posters of various things; not just wrestling, but advertisements for other products as well. There are assorted things around the room, but the last wall we come to, the doorside wall, has a number of pictures adorning it. At least some, if not all, are the faces of wrestlers, and Larry Tact stands in front of this wall. He has on a pair of black workout pants, sneakers, and a sleeveless gray shirt. His body exhibits calm, though his expression has a tinge of what might be described as spite on it.
Tact: I know you've been through a lot of turmoil in your time, Nemesis. And, from what I've witnessed, it is mostly due to your actions. However, my grief and pain is not something you have experienced, to my knowledge. I won't go into it much, as it isn't terribly relevant to our coming match. I'm also tired of telling the story of my life to the masses, and in effect making it some public spectacle. Although perhaps I'll write a book about it someday, so all the drama-starved crazies can indulge. That way, at least it'll make me an extra few bucks. But that time is certainly not now.
Tact turns to a side profile, looking to the wall of pictures.
Tact: This is what I'd like to bring to attention right now. I call it....well, I don't have any particular name for it. Everyone has a name for these things, so the most original idea is to just not have any name for it. Regardless, though...it is a list of wrestlers that I wish to face, for whatever reason I may have. But among those on this wall lay the specters of my past.
Tact points to one of the pictures.
Tact: Here we have KRoW, the man who I believe, at least, caused all the crap that led to my...problems of the past year or so. I would find him and take him out, personally, but (points to another picture) Shawn Hart has already taken care of it for me. Now KRoW is off somewhere, nursing the neck injury Hart gave him, his career laid to rest. Ironic that, of all people, I have Shawn Hart to thank. Even so...I'd rather punk the little prick out, before thanking him.
Tact searches around and then points to two pictures, side-by-side.
Tact: Doc Silver....and Billy Matthews. Silver is probably the most elusive on this wall. He and Matthews did a number on me, and I mean to return the favor to them someday. It's a shame he didn't follow Golem here; as Maelstrom, Rabesque, Jon Savage, myself and others from the WWL have. I'd be happy to return the favor he did for me....months in the hospital and all.
Tact returns to his original facing position, arms crossed.
Tact: Those are the recent ones that come to mind. Of course there are others -- there always are -- but again...that whole 'public spectacle' thing. My financial issues are in order, and I have actually taken the past year to dive into other fields of interest. You see, I go beyond just wrestling, Nemesis. I could have been more 'popular' with the general public, who are always looking for a way to scrutinize this industry.
Tact continues over to the wall of posters. He stands next to one with him on it, a very attractive model with an arm wrapped around his, her other hand caressing his face as he smiles. Tact has an arm wrapped around her shoulders, while coolly holding a bottle of suntan lotion in his hand.
Tact: It's funny how one day, your life can be redirected into the gutter....and then eight or so months later, another day can turn it back towards the light. What I'm getting at is that, apparently, I've got 'the stuff' to be a real marketer. A money maker. And make money I did, for myself in particular, in a variety of advertisements. That's just one of the interesting things I managed to fall into the graces of. So you see, I didn't need to come back. You talk about reasons, and what drives a wrestler to come into and stay in this business. Well, I found out that, "hey, what the hell am I staying in this ring for? To get abused in matches that aren't even recognized by the show promoters? Promoters who won't cover my medical, because I have no legal means of getting an official match or contract? Honestly....what am I smoking?!" It was ridiculous, especially when I could make quick cash standing, holding a bottle of body lotion, while being surrounded by attractive women. The biggest damage I could take was fatigue from all the....action.
A grin forms on Tact's face. He walks over to the trophy case, and sits down in front of it. He momentarily points a thumb at the case, with the replica belts inside.
Tact: But as much as I tried, I could never really forget about wrestling. Tried to stop watching televised events....lasted a week or two. If I ever went on a radio show to promote one of the products I was signed to advertise, what were the questions that always manage to creep their ways in? "So, are you looking at a return to wrestling in the near future?" "Is this promoting a sign that Larry Tact will be back in wrestling?" "What's the timetable for your return to the ring?" Because that's the biggest thing I'm known for, is my wrestling career. My dealings in the business world, while prosperous, couldn't be discerned from all the other stock market people. Not that my reputation there hasn't tanked, and isn't still in the gutter, anyway. It was nice while it lasted, though. But wrestling was my niche. My injuries were healed, I was physically fit as ever....but my heart was weak to wrestling. I had no desire to come back. So the occasional fan coming up and wanting to know the 'inside story' got a pretty disappointing answer. Larry Tact wasn't coming back. A couple months in a hospital makes someone do a lot of thinking. I had come into wrestling to showcase my skills, prove that I was the best wrestler in whatever promotion I joined, and rise up to the top of that promotion. Just as my original moniker indicated, when I stepped into the ring, it would be "showtime." But it wasn't "showtime." It was "go time"; time for me and wrestling to part ways. And honestly, I was satisfied for a little while. I was resolved to the 'truth' being that wrestling wasn't in my plans anymore. I believed I had buried it....just another specter, six feet under. What I didn't grasp was that specters are astral, and burying them doesn't keep them away forever. And then there were these.....
Tact taps on the glass front of the case.
Tact: At first, they were just sitting pretty in this case, which isn't very filled might I add. However, I didn't want to get rid of them, because they were a successful part of my life, and at least deserved to be acknowledged as such. Also, I wasn't about to reject things I achieved due to success in my life. I needed to remember the positive things, to keep me hopeful that good times lay ahead. But eventually, the questions, occasional fan, and these straps came to be more than just a remembrance. Eventually, there was a spark in my heart. And that spark became a candlelight. That candlelight was placed under some firewood, and eventually...the woodpile caught fire. By then, it was only a matter of time....a court appeal's time, in fact. This case might not be totally filled, or even half filled. But that's fine, because titles aren't what I entered the ring for in the first place. It was to prove that I am the best wrestler. However, that is no longer the case.
Tact gets up from the floor, and passes by the cabinet of tapes as he moves towards the wall with the wrestlers' pictures on it.
Tact: This room is how I dealt with my stress and frustration, Nemesis. I got organized. I put my past, present, and future in order. Now I return, a more focused man. A more versatile wrestler. Yes, a more mature person, as well. I return with the knowledge that there is no one single 'best' of this industry. There are, however, people at the top of every promotion. And so that is where I set my standard, just as I always have....at the top. But there is still one specter -- or should I say, Spectre -- that has eluded me for some time. He contends with Silver as one of the most elusive of my past.
Tact moves from where he is standing, and a picture of Ellis Scott is one among those on the wall.
Tact: I've been waiting a good long while for you to come back, Nemesis. You had, briefly, last year, but I missed the chance then. Malec may be a jack***, but aren't most successful businessmen? I could say, with confidence, that King Krusher is a big doof....because aren't most security officials? (chuckles) Malec and Krusher don't concern me, though. If they try to make things unnecessarily complicated for me, I won't hesitate to make them regret it. But as long as Malec looks on his roster sheet and writes me my paychecks, he doesn't have to so much as remember my name. As long as Krusher stays out of my way, and out of my face, I won't make him look bad....and maybe I won't look at Lady V, either.
Tact snickers, but then clears his throat and becomes quite stern with his tone.
Tact: As for you, Nemesis....well, all you have to do is bring your best to that ring, and you'll have your request granted. Just as I said, I aim for the top, and I won't bring my game down for anyone. We're both fresh, which will make your defeat at my hands all the more pleasing. You see, you are the only one that I have tried and not been able to rectify defeat against before, Nemesis. Be proud of that, and remember the feeling....because I mean to repair that problem very soon. When we meet in the ring, it will not be for a title. It will not be for pride, or vengeance. It will not be for the fans. It will not be to show anything to Malec, or any of the other wrestlers in the GLCW. They are all simply lucky enough to find themselves watching two of the most concealed diamonds in the rough. But this match is for two reasons, and two reasons alone. Those reasons being, of course, yours and mine for coming back. You have stated yours...or some of yours. I have already stated that I am not in it to prove myself to be the best wrestler in the GLCW. I don't need to prove that anymore. Gold? I still remain steadfast in the fact that I am not in it for gold. If any GLCW wrestlers doubt me, I'll reintroduce you to my trophy case. If the belts come into the picture, then all the better, but I'm more concerned with the Champion, the person, than the strap. Because it is the wrestler who makes the belt, not the belt who makes the wrestler. The primary reason for my return, though....is because I can't stay away. I will wrestle again because I have the desire to, and right now, there just isn't more to it than that, though perhaps there will be, eventually. It might not be a match for the ages, Nemesis.....
Tact walks to the case of multimedia and pats it.
Tact: ...but it will be one for the records. A new beginning, one in which I am determined to start with a victory.
Tact now walks toward the open doorway, but stops and leans in the frame, a smirk on his face.
Tact: The only other things I have to say, I say to the GLCW as a whole. As much talking as I will do here, my actions in the ring always speak my final words for me. I know that I'll bring my best, so let's see if you bring something to top that....or if you get humbled in that ring, and realize that you were just....tactilized.......
Tact trails off with his last word as he walks out of the room. The camera pans back over to the wall of pictures, and we see some familiar faces, right in line next to that of Nemesis: Jon Savage, Michael Manson, Maelstrom, Jean Rabesque...and Golem. Fade out.
PhantomZ
League Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 49
- Points
- 0
Not the Same Old Dog
FADE IN…
(A higher vantage point now. The lake is shown, iced over a bit from a recent storm and cold. The land around too, is whiter and looking more frigid. The day is overcast, with a slight wind gusting through the trees every now and then, bending the barren branches and sending frost from limbs through the air. The snow, dusting past the view with the breeze off whatever is nearby by, bank or hill, tree or bush.
The shot starts zoomed in on a spot across the lake. Gradually, the shot pulls back, showing more and more of the scene. More of the wintered lake, more of the frosty shore. It keeps zooming out, until nearly all the lake is visible in its cold ivory spender. The dock, now seen down below, is frozen in the lake. The stairs and porch, coming up to the cabin. Now, the window, and the inside of an enclosed patio. The perfect place to sit back, and take in the scene. The whole scene: most of the lake, somewhat frozen over, the barren trees, the snow covered ground. Amazing view... especially with the wind whipping flakes through the air in every direction, seemingly except straight down.
Inside, the scene is very cozy. Wood finished floors, matching underpanelling beneath the three walls of glass. In the corners, a authentic-looking post of cedar rises, supporting the roof. The ceiling too, is wood finish, stained cherry with two huge skylights for night gazing. Today, all we see are the gray clouds looking like they're sitting on the roof at the moment. The room is furnished with a wooden, glass covered coffee table, and matching end tables on either end of an elaborate sofa with... you guessed it... wood trimmings around its headboard and armrests. Across from the sofa, near one of the posts, stands a multi-level shelf with various objects on it. Photos, knick-knacks... and a peculiar ring. On the right side of the room, there is another end-table, raised a bit higher than the other two near the sofa, beside a leather recliner. A familiar leather recliner to some. Sitting in this chair is a man. A familiar man to some.
He sits, dressed in slacks, and a black button-up shirt, untucked and unbuttoned at the top, revealing once again the shimmering silver chain half-concealed under his shirt. His hair is slicked back, like he just got out of the shower, and some droplets still remain on his forehead. He's barefoot once more, and he sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His eyes are dark brown, almost black. His forehead furrowed as he puts pencil to page, and a few drips come off his forehead here and there. Unusual to see his expression go from so determined while in the book and so open and wondered when he gazes up.
He sits, looking out to the breath-taking landscape around him, leather book open in his lap, pencil in hand. He pauses, scribbles in the book a bit, and goes right back to gazing. Atop the table beside him is a small steno pad, two unsharpened pencils, and a glass of water on a coaster. He motions to the camera to give him just one more second as he continues to etch whatever it is he's writing, and the camera gets one last shot across the lack, before smoothly panning back to the man. He has put the pencil down, and closed the book on his lap. He faces the camera, smirk on face, sparkle in eye. Those eyes... looking into the camera like a boy peering down a bottomless well. So alive you feel he may very well be seeing you, watching him on the screen... he speaks...)
NEMESIS: Ah... Larry... thank you. Now, we will truly provide the fans with a spectacle to behold. Thank you for accepting my proposal, and I can assure you, I will bring my all. You seem to trust me more, which is good. Not so many suspicions... so many perceived thoughts of deception. Some still linger, I'm sure... but you know me Larry. You know me very well. We indeed do have a lengthy, slightly one-sided history. But no matter, because now it is only what happens in Hammond is all that is of any concern. The past is just that... past us. No need to look back and herald on old victories, just as it is futile to look ahead to future triumphs for bragging rights. You needn't show me your trophy case Larry. I need no reminding of your talents or abilities. I was nearby for most of those accomplishments anyhow. I understand you've been through pain, and I never claimed to understand what your pain itself was like. I understand your wish no to tell your autobiography... and I would like to think I show that in the fact I do not mention the past so much anymore. After all, anyone can win a tournament here, a trophy there, a title anywhere... can't they?
Heed My Words
However Larry, I detect just a miniscule lack of focus in your psyche. True, you give me a just amount of credit, and make reference to a few past accolades. But you assure yourself victory... and on top... you constantly refer to other members of our business, some not even within the confides of our home here in GLCW. Anarky, KRoW, Maelstrom, Hart, Silver, Matthews, Savage... where exactly is your mind Larry? Too much time in the sun, perhaps? You may want to use a little more sunscreen the next time you go out. Sorry, but it was a bad pun just lying there, begging for me like Charlie Brown to a shady Christmas tree. I know you'll be a force in the ring... I know the match will be one of our best... one of the best... but I do not yet know just how this match will end.
You didn't need to come back, and at one point, you had no desire to. But that fire... rekindled and poof... here you are. Returning just as I am. Both from depths we'd rather not speak of. Back, alive and well. All that matters to us... and for me, all that matters to those who matter. For you... because you wanted to. Good enough for anyone, I suppose. Let us have this bout, and let it get both of us closer to our ultimate goals.
(The man reclines the chair back. He cracks his neck, and then his knuckles, letting out a sigh as he does. A bit of stretching, readjusting, and he's looking through the book, only glancing at the camera every now and then. His facial expression changes a bit with each page turned, taking in its contents. Sometimes a look of slight worry, sometimes the smirk fades into a full smile... and other moments... his face looks stoic and chiseled...)
A Window Into Me
NEMESIS: This book is rather important. It contains... well, just about everything. A friend of mine suggested I start something like this up after my last departure from the wrestling scene... and I did just that. Now... it most certainly isn't a journal. No record of what I did exactly on this day or that. No dates at all, in fact. And not just writing... but drawings, symbols... dreams. Memories... Whatever pops into my head. Sometimes I am inspired to write something in particular, or I'll see a picture in my head or in my eye and feel the need to rush it down to paper. Well, as best my hand can put it down. My friend said it would take my mind off things while I... took some much needed time off... and indeed it has. On top of that, it gives me a new perspective on things I've already thought about... and given me a lot of insight into how I used to behave. It keeps me on track, my goals focused, and reminds me of what I was... so that nothing like that ever happens again. I cured myself, with this book, some guidance, and some internal drive. The virtue in me still thrived, as strangled as it was beneath the beasts of anger, hatred, greed, and pride. It prevailed... and so will I. Perhaps not in this match itself... perhaps so. But in the end, I will have been the better, done the better, and lived better. Now... I have a chance at realizing my dreams... the same ones I have scribed in between these leather bindings. Perhaps I'll speak more about this book some other time... hmmm...
(He puts the book on the steno pad, and puts the recliner into the upright position. He lets out a brief sigh once more, and gazes back into the camera with a look of mysterious knowledge. Does he know something we don't? Hmmm indeed...)
NEMESIS: Rather than speaking on the past or the future... let me instead reflect on the state of things as they are... *now*...
Simple Truths
The simple truth is that the GLCW is a blossoming into one of the best federations around. And that truth can be shown in the pictures that not only line the walls of Larry Tact's apartment, but also the walls of GLCW in its roster. Guys like Maelstrom, Jobber, Poe, Edmunds, Rabesque... Golem, UA, Gridlock and a million rough and tough up-and-comers. It's a hotbed for success, and a haven for those who may already hold a place among the legends of the past. Holds a place for us too, Larry... heh heh. Even Manson is here... and among all your rants... you haven't mentioned him at all. A quick glimpse in your apartment on the wall... but more than that? Nope. I remember the IWF Larry... and as long as you plan on going back to rectify your past... Manson would be an amazing place to start. I'll get to him eventually too... I'm sure. I just found it odd that man with so much history with you... doesn't get a shout out. Your preference, I suppose. Manson will certainly show his cowardly face once again, crawl from the shadows... no longer protected in his Horowitz-chauffeured Pope-mobile.
The truth is this... however grand the GLCW may be... there are no words to explain how much the additions of Tact and Nemesis will add to its sparkle. So I have another challenge... to the GLCW... to the world... walk the path... and taste the Wrath.
(The man gets up from his seat, picks up the book and gently tucks it under his arm, all in one fluid motion. He looks at the camera once more, smirk as smug as ever, gives the lens a nod of "farewell" and his walks out of the shot. The camera then slowly pans back to the wide shot of the lake, and slowly zooms in towards the original spot. Gradually getting closer and closer, losing sight of the window, the dock, the rest of the shoreline, the...)
FADE OUT.
FADE IN…
(A higher vantage point now. The lake is shown, iced over a bit from a recent storm and cold. The land around too, is whiter and looking more frigid. The day is overcast, with a slight wind gusting through the trees every now and then, bending the barren branches and sending frost from limbs through the air. The snow, dusting past the view with the breeze off whatever is nearby by, bank or hill, tree or bush.
The shot starts zoomed in on a spot across the lake. Gradually, the shot pulls back, showing more and more of the scene. More of the wintered lake, more of the frosty shore. It keeps zooming out, until nearly all the lake is visible in its cold ivory spender. The dock, now seen down below, is frozen in the lake. The stairs and porch, coming up to the cabin. Now, the window, and the inside of an enclosed patio. The perfect place to sit back, and take in the scene. The whole scene: most of the lake, somewhat frozen over, the barren trees, the snow covered ground. Amazing view... especially with the wind whipping flakes through the air in every direction, seemingly except straight down.
Inside, the scene is very cozy. Wood finished floors, matching underpanelling beneath the three walls of glass. In the corners, a authentic-looking post of cedar rises, supporting the roof. The ceiling too, is wood finish, stained cherry with two huge skylights for night gazing. Today, all we see are the gray clouds looking like they're sitting on the roof at the moment. The room is furnished with a wooden, glass covered coffee table, and matching end tables on either end of an elaborate sofa with... you guessed it... wood trimmings around its headboard and armrests. Across from the sofa, near one of the posts, stands a multi-level shelf with various objects on it. Photos, knick-knacks... and a peculiar ring. On the right side of the room, there is another end-table, raised a bit higher than the other two near the sofa, beside a leather recliner. A familiar leather recliner to some. Sitting in this chair is a man. A familiar man to some.
He sits, dressed in slacks, and a black button-up shirt, untucked and unbuttoned at the top, revealing once again the shimmering silver chain half-concealed under his shirt. His hair is slicked back, like he just got out of the shower, and some droplets still remain on his forehead. He's barefoot once more, and he sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His eyes are dark brown, almost black. His forehead furrowed as he puts pencil to page, and a few drips come off his forehead here and there. Unusual to see his expression go from so determined while in the book and so open and wondered when he gazes up.
He sits, looking out to the breath-taking landscape around him, leather book open in his lap, pencil in hand. He pauses, scribbles in the book a bit, and goes right back to gazing. Atop the table beside him is a small steno pad, two unsharpened pencils, and a glass of water on a coaster. He motions to the camera to give him just one more second as he continues to etch whatever it is he's writing, and the camera gets one last shot across the lack, before smoothly panning back to the man. He has put the pencil down, and closed the book on his lap. He faces the camera, smirk on face, sparkle in eye. Those eyes... looking into the camera like a boy peering down a bottomless well. So alive you feel he may very well be seeing you, watching him on the screen... he speaks...)
NEMESIS: Ah... Larry... thank you. Now, we will truly provide the fans with a spectacle to behold. Thank you for accepting my proposal, and I can assure you, I will bring my all. You seem to trust me more, which is good. Not so many suspicions... so many perceived thoughts of deception. Some still linger, I'm sure... but you know me Larry. You know me very well. We indeed do have a lengthy, slightly one-sided history. But no matter, because now it is only what happens in Hammond is all that is of any concern. The past is just that... past us. No need to look back and herald on old victories, just as it is futile to look ahead to future triumphs for bragging rights. You needn't show me your trophy case Larry. I need no reminding of your talents or abilities. I was nearby for most of those accomplishments anyhow. I understand you've been through pain, and I never claimed to understand what your pain itself was like. I understand your wish no to tell your autobiography... and I would like to think I show that in the fact I do not mention the past so much anymore. After all, anyone can win a tournament here, a trophy there, a title anywhere... can't they?
Heed My Words
However Larry, I detect just a miniscule lack of focus in your psyche. True, you give me a just amount of credit, and make reference to a few past accolades. But you assure yourself victory... and on top... you constantly refer to other members of our business, some not even within the confides of our home here in GLCW. Anarky, KRoW, Maelstrom, Hart, Silver, Matthews, Savage... where exactly is your mind Larry? Too much time in the sun, perhaps? You may want to use a little more sunscreen the next time you go out. Sorry, but it was a bad pun just lying there, begging for me like Charlie Brown to a shady Christmas tree. I know you'll be a force in the ring... I know the match will be one of our best... one of the best... but I do not yet know just how this match will end.
You didn't need to come back, and at one point, you had no desire to. But that fire... rekindled and poof... here you are. Returning just as I am. Both from depths we'd rather not speak of. Back, alive and well. All that matters to us... and for me, all that matters to those who matter. For you... because you wanted to. Good enough for anyone, I suppose. Let us have this bout, and let it get both of us closer to our ultimate goals.
(The man reclines the chair back. He cracks his neck, and then his knuckles, letting out a sigh as he does. A bit of stretching, readjusting, and he's looking through the book, only glancing at the camera every now and then. His facial expression changes a bit with each page turned, taking in its contents. Sometimes a look of slight worry, sometimes the smirk fades into a full smile... and other moments... his face looks stoic and chiseled...)
A Window Into Me
NEMESIS: This book is rather important. It contains... well, just about everything. A friend of mine suggested I start something like this up after my last departure from the wrestling scene... and I did just that. Now... it most certainly isn't a journal. No record of what I did exactly on this day or that. No dates at all, in fact. And not just writing... but drawings, symbols... dreams. Memories... Whatever pops into my head. Sometimes I am inspired to write something in particular, or I'll see a picture in my head or in my eye and feel the need to rush it down to paper. Well, as best my hand can put it down. My friend said it would take my mind off things while I... took some much needed time off... and indeed it has. On top of that, it gives me a new perspective on things I've already thought about... and given me a lot of insight into how I used to behave. It keeps me on track, my goals focused, and reminds me of what I was... so that nothing like that ever happens again. I cured myself, with this book, some guidance, and some internal drive. The virtue in me still thrived, as strangled as it was beneath the beasts of anger, hatred, greed, and pride. It prevailed... and so will I. Perhaps not in this match itself... perhaps so. But in the end, I will have been the better, done the better, and lived better. Now... I have a chance at realizing my dreams... the same ones I have scribed in between these leather bindings. Perhaps I'll speak more about this book some other time... hmmm...
(He puts the book on the steno pad, and puts the recliner into the upright position. He lets out a brief sigh once more, and gazes back into the camera with a look of mysterious knowledge. Does he know something we don't? Hmmm indeed...)
NEMESIS: Rather than speaking on the past or the future... let me instead reflect on the state of things as they are... *now*...
Simple Truths
The simple truth is that the GLCW is a blossoming into one of the best federations around. And that truth can be shown in the pictures that not only line the walls of Larry Tact's apartment, but also the walls of GLCW in its roster. Guys like Maelstrom, Jobber, Poe, Edmunds, Rabesque... Golem, UA, Gridlock and a million rough and tough up-and-comers. It's a hotbed for success, and a haven for those who may already hold a place among the legends of the past. Holds a place for us too, Larry... heh heh. Even Manson is here... and among all your rants... you haven't mentioned him at all. A quick glimpse in your apartment on the wall... but more than that? Nope. I remember the IWF Larry... and as long as you plan on going back to rectify your past... Manson would be an amazing place to start. I'll get to him eventually too... I'm sure. I just found it odd that man with so much history with you... doesn't get a shout out. Your preference, I suppose. Manson will certainly show his cowardly face once again, crawl from the shadows... no longer protected in his Horowitz-chauffeured Pope-mobile.
The truth is this... however grand the GLCW may be... there are no words to explain how much the additions of Tact and Nemesis will add to its sparkle. So I have another challenge... to the GLCW... to the world... walk the path... and taste the Wrath.
(The man gets up from his seat, picks up the book and gently tucks it under his arm, all in one fluid motion. He looks at the camera once more, smirk as smug as ever, gives the lens a nod of "farewell" and his walks out of the shot. The camera then slowly pans back to the wide shot of the lake, and slowly zooms in towards the original spot. Gradually getting closer and closer, losing sight of the window, the dock, the rest of the shoreline, the...)
FADE OUT.