[SSVIII] Championship of Champions Match: Nova (c) vs. Jonathan Rhine

[TH]

The Risen Star is building off his unofficial 2007 Wrestler of the Year resume with the NFW World Championship, but he's got a tough challenge in the SCCW Universal Champion.

Match held at the Phillips Arena in Atlanta, GA. One fall to a finish. All regular RP rules apply. RP deadline is Saturday, May 31st at 11:59:59 PM, give or take a second.

 

[Nova]

New Life.

​

(ENTER: Darkness.)
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NOVA (V/O): “Johnny…”
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(FADEIN: A well-lit room with sparsely decorated walls and a folding table. On the side opposite the camera sits the EAGLEstar and borderline inactive TEAM competitor, NOVA, seated in a folding chair and dressed in jeans, a black bandanna, and a black sleeveless t-shirt that reads TEAM EPICENTER Presents SuperShow III, Live from the Yorilove.com Casino, April 24^th, 2007! On the tabletop in front of are splayed the NFW World Heavyweight Championship and TEAM’s own Championship of Champions, and behind him hanging from the ceiling is the familiar black-and-yellow TEAM banner that usually adorns his promo spots.)
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NOVA: “Johnny, Johnny, Johnny…we’ve never talked face-to-face, but I already know we’re more alike than you probably think. We’re both World Champions – actually I guess you trump me there with SCCW’s ‘Universal’ moniker – in our respective corners of the industry…” (Grinning wryly) “…and we’ve both been humbled on the grand competitive stage by a certain Amazon – we’ll just call her Trindsay Loy.”
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(The EAGLEstar appears to reach for something, but he withdraws his hand, balling it into a fist and shaking it slowly back and forth.)
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NOVA: “I don’t know how badly you want to win the Championship of Champions, John…but before I yell ‘Cut!’ on this little promo package of mine, I hope to give you some measure of insight into how badly I want to keep it.” (Holding up a videotape) “You know what this is? This is a copy of TEAM’s SuperShow VII…my ONLY CoC defense in the last YEAR. I know, I know…those numbers just don’t add up. At the very least there are twelve months in a year, right? Well, that’s just how the 2007-2008 seasonal competitive cookie happened to crumble, and now I can’t shake the nagging suspicion that in the end, the impressive duration of my reign as the top titleholder in the company will be viewed as ‘Paper Champion’ material. I don’t want that, John. Defending against Dan Ryan, that was great. But it was 2007, just like the Tournament of Champions, just like the Contenders’ match and the showdown with <st1>T<st1:city w:st="on">roy</st1:city></st1>, Ryan, and Irish, just like everything else.
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“I had a phenomenal run in ’07, across federational lines, and I accomplished a lot. But I gotta tell ya, John-Boy…what I don’t want more than anything else is for people to look back and say 2007 was the greatest year of Nova’s career. What I want is for them to look to 2008 and say “Man, as good as ’07 was, in ’08 Nova won the NFW World Heavyweight Championship…and had that match against Johnathan Rhine for the Championship of Champions that was Off. The F*ckin’. HOOK. So I need ya, Johnny. I need ya to legitimize this title reign of mine, and it can happen regardless of who emerges with the belt in their hands, as long as you and I are both committed to making this the greatest CoC match of ALL TIME. I know you’re up to it. I haven’t watched a boatload of SCCW television, I freely admit it, but I know you went something like thirteen in a row there without picking up a check in the ‘Loss’ column. I know you got one over on ‘Ginger-Kid Douchebag Extraordinaire’ Clinton Sage, and from personal experience I know that’s no easy feat. So basically…I need ‘New Life’ Johnathan Rhine to inject some ‘New Life’ into the Championship of Champions, plain and simple.”
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(NOVA begins shuffling in his pocket again.)
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NOVA: “Now…I’ve told you what I need from you. To that end, here’s my part of the bargain…hrmph…man, I really need to switch to straight-leg jeans…”
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(The EAGLEstar finishes fidgeting around and tosses a pack of cigarettes and a sack of sweet, stinky ganja onto the tabletop.)
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NOVA: “I’ll play it straight until after our showdown in<st1:city w:st="on"><st1> Atlanta</st1></st1:city>. No cigarettes.” *Voice crack* “No herb. No booze…”
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(NOVA reaches down, holds up a half-empty (or half-full?) bottle of bourbon, sighs loudly, and lobs it over his shoulder. It shatters against the concrete wall behind him. NOVA winces at the sound and then eyes the pack of cigarettes on the table.)
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NOVA: “Oh, f*ck it, one more. One more cig for the road.”
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(He lights a cigarette and leans back in his chair, hooking his knees under the tabletop.)
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NOVA: (Exhaling smoke) “Are you listening to me, John? I’ve never done this for anyone, so you better be blushing your ass off somewhere right now. I’m serious as a mother-f*ckin’ HEART ATTACK about making this match one for the books, one you’ll be able to point to in thirty-five years when you’re explaining why Grandpa can’t get down on all fours and play with lil’ Johnny Jr.’s fire trucks because his knees were blown out from wrestling matches like this one that captivated a million f*ckin’ people. And I’ll be right there with ya, senile as a bag of half-rotten avocados from years of drug-related indiscretions, talkin’ to my dialysis machine about the Glory Days and that nice kid with the blonde hair who helped me bring thousands to their feet in the Phillips Arena in the summer of 2008.”
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(The EAGLEstar swings his legs around, stares down at the lit cigarette in his hand, and then flicks it away before standing up.)
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NOVA: “There’s no time to waste, Johnny! Lock it up, lock it in, then it’s time to begin…preparation for the MATCH OF YOUR LIFE.”
<o></o>
(FTB)

 

[Nate]

We've All Got A Reason To Show Up.

“There’s certain wrestlers on the list who don’t like eye contact, so if you shake their hands, be sure to just look at their hair or their ears…not their shoes, though, because then they’ll probably think you’re weird.”

Jonathan Rhine looks oddly at Eugene, the blue-vested intern and the speaker of that comment. Rhine is in the middle of a TEAM promotional event, the kind that lets fans meet the wrestlers, play carnival games, and spend tons of money on bad food. Jonathan Rhine is arriving as something less than the guess of honor, and Eugene is the man who has been sent to make sure Rhine’s day is a smooth one.

Eugene: “I also couldn’t get you passes to the wrestlers only section of the bash, so you’ll have to hang around with the fans or something.”

He’s not doing a fantastic job so far.

Rhine: “Uh, okay.”

Jonathan looks around at the number of fans circling around, playing EPW-themed mini-games and milling around at sales tents. He shakes his head in awe.

Rhine: “Man, this crowd blows ours out of the park.”

Eugene: “Well of course it does, we’re tons better.”

Eugene looks behind him and points, nearly shouting.

Eugene: “Wait, is that Dan Ryan? I need to…um…do some business. Yeah, business. You’ll be okay on your own, right?”

Rhine: “Uh…”

Eugene: “Look, rookie, the promo cutting booth is in that small building over there, if you want to tell Nova how you’re gonna try real hard to not be destroyed, that’s where you do it. You’ll be fine.”

And with that, Eugene is gone, leaving Rhine to slowly walk over to the shack that his handler pointed out to him.

As he enters the shack, Jonathan shakes his head, looking at the unpainted walls and creaky door. There is a small man in the corner, sleeping. As Jonathan shuts the door, the man is snapped awake.

Cameraman: “Huh? Oh, hey. You that New Life guy?”

Rhine: “That’s me.”

Cameraman: “Okay, they told me you’d probably want to give Nova the old what-for. Lemme just get you in position and I’ll turn on the camera.”

Jonathan Rhine slowly walks in front of the camera and looks behind him at the tattered TEAM logo that hangs on the wall.

Rhine: “Anyone ever use this thing?”

Cameraman: “Not really, there’s one in the main offices up there that the stars use, but it was probably being used or something.”

The cameraman looks up disinterestedly.

Cameraman: “You ready?”

Rhine: “Uh, yeah, I think so.”

Jonathan is visibly nervous, as he’s never done this before.

Cameraman: “All right, and…go.”

The cameraman pushes a button and then begins to leave the shack.

Rhine: “Wait, you’re leaving?”

Cameraman: “You can’t cut a promo by yourself? Come on, man, you’ll be just fine. Just push the button on your way out.”

The door slams loudly, and Rhine looks to the camera and sighs. It’s go time.

________________________________________

“Hey, Nova. I didn’t really know what to expect coming in here, so I do want to start off by voicing my appreciation. You didn’t make fun of my name, or tell me you were going to pound me into the ground. I was told by a few people that these sort of events can either turn into debates or mudslingings, and that’s not really something I’m looking forward to participate in. Luckily, it looks like you’re a little past that. Good to hear.

“Now let’s move on to important topics. We do have a few things in common, and Troy is one of them. I have the utmost respect for her, and anyone that can give her a fight as close as you did deserves the same sort of respect. In fact, there’s not much bad I can say about you that would cause this to degenerate into what I said before. You’re talented, and you’re a relatively good guy besides the fact that I’m not a big proponent of marijuana – although you’re cutting down on that for the match, something else I appreciate.

“So what else is there?”

Rhine shrugs, then looks around the shack he is in.

“There’s your challenge, but I don’t think I need to even dignify it. I know you don’t want a lot of SCCW TV, but since you know of my exploits well enough, you must know that my claim to fame isn’t my talent, although it is there, or my charisma, although for some reason the fans can’t get enough of it. It’s my will, my fortitude, whatever other adjective you want to use that means ‘I don’t stay down.’ In my year long conquest of the federation once known as FUSE, I have become the personification of that song by Chumbawumba.

“You know, the ‘I get knocked down, but I get up again, you’re never gonna keep me down’ song? Yeah, that one.”

Rhine chuckles and looks down in shame.

“Yeah, sorry for bringing up that gem of history. But the point is, I don’t quit. In fact, the match I defeated Clinton Sage for to win the SCCW Universal Championship was an I Quit match. And I didn’t. And never have. Troy was the only person to beat me clean. I know it’s a bit obnoxious for me to rub my career highlights in your face, but trust me, that isn’t my intention. I’m trying to illustrate a point.

“My point is that you didn’t even have to ask, bro. I’ll put a match together with you that will make the world stop and stare. I’ve carried Timo Bolamba to a 5 star match, to give you a point of reference. And since you’re one of the most talented guys I’ve seen around my time here, I have no doubt we’ll be able to legitimize the belt together.

“Another thing we have in common, Nova, is the fact that you and I both had phenomenal years last year. So I understand the desire to keep it going. But I want you to know one thing, and I want to make sure you understand this: losing to me will not make your year a bad one. Same as losing to you won’t make mine terrible. Losing this Championship might be the best thing that happens to you, because it gives you more time to focus on your newly-won NFW World Title – congrats, by the way. And not winning it could really benefit me, because it could make me realize that my place is in Las Vegas, making sure ****stains like Amy Campbell and Desade don’t terrorize the wrestling world.

“Point is, I’m going to have an even better year than last year, even if I don’t defeat you for the Championship of Champions. I’m getting better every day, and I’m finally to the point in my wrestling career where I realize what I’m capable of. And I’ve got to tell you, Nova: not to brag, but it’s a lot.

“So that’s where my motivation comes in here. The reason I’d leave my home fed for awhile and subject myself to the tons of people who don’t know me and put me in tiny tin shacks to cut promos in. And that reason is simple: I’ve finally realized what I’m capable of, and I want the WORLD to realize it. Troy recently pinned me. Aimz was able to steal my belt away thanks to some of the worst cheating I’ve ever experienced. And the world has started to think that maybe I’m fading out.

“But I know for a fact that’s not the case. And going one on one against one of the best wrestlers in either community, the guy who had one of the best years of any wrestle in any circle ever? Yeah, that’s where I can prove I’m not a one-hit-wonder. That’s where I can show everyone what I already know: that there’s still some life in the New Life. So if you’re asking how bad I want to win the CoC from you, Nova, I don’t think I have to tell you that. I think you’ll be able to see it when we meet in the ring.”

Rhine smiles, laying his hands out in front of him.

“So you want to show the world that you’re still having a great year? And you want me to bring everything I’ve got to make sure that people know what this title’s all about? Not a problem, Nova. Just one thing to remember, though: this won’t just be the match of MY life. I’m looking to prove myself to the world, and that means it’s going to be the match of BOTH of our lives. See you in Atlanta, friend.”

Rhine stands there for a minute, staring at the camera, until he realizes that the cameraman had left a good while ago. Sighing, he walks over to the camera and turns it off.

 

[Nova]

Something in The Way.

(FADEIN: The first rays of sunlight creep through the curtains of the lake cabin loft and cast a soft reddish glow over the EAGLEstar, who sits perched like his namesake on a throw pillow next to the window overlooking the serenity of the undisturbed lake in the wilderness. (SFX: Birds chirping!) NOVA turns to the camera and offers a weary half-grin.)
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NOVA: “I couldn’t sleep last night, John…and it wasn’t because I’ve kept my word about steering clear of the herb until after our showdown in <st1><st1:city w:st="on">Atlanta</st1:city></st1>.”
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(NOVA pushes one of the curtains aside and peers out the window. CUTTO: A massive fish exploding out of the water, disturbing the lake’s tranquility.)
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NOVA: “I was overcome with a sense of urgency. It was stifling. Suffocating. I’m not going to tell you the walls were closing in on me, but it felt like the noose of an unseen hangman tightening around my throat, and I was awash with the realization that I’m not ready to part with something I’ve viewed at times as little more than a trinket or triviality, a notch on the ‘old belt.’”
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(Instinctively the EAGLEstar reaches for the pack of cigarettes that isn’t there. He chuckles mirthlessly.)
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NOVA: “My journey with TEAM over the last nine or so months has been the equivalent of a moving sidewalk…but only now, staring the mortality of my title reign in the face have I removed the headphones from their vice grip around the sides of my face and perked my ears to the sounds that surround me. And those voices whispering into my ear tell me something isn’t right, John. Something definitely isn’t right.”
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(NOVA’s gaze wanders from the camera off into the distance and he exhales sharply, resting his head against his hand, rhythmically rubbing his temple.)
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NOVA: “Something has been left undone, or maybe a possibility for future action that’s yet to reveal itself, I don’t know. I don’t know. But this narrative is incomplete. Something nags like the piece of crucial luggage that you know you left at the house, that nagging, tearing doubt that claws at the back of your head and neck as you pass through the security checkpoints. Now I’ll ask you to forgive me, because what I’m about to say will come across as equal parts pompous and self-serving…but I don’t think this, us, here, now, is supposed to be the pivotal moment I thought it was…and that’s taking nothing away from your incredible talent.”
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(The Champion of Champions stares back up into the camera, his cool blue eyes glinting in the relative dim of the cabin loft.)
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NOVA: “And I have to be honest with you, John…I’m not arriving at this sudden premonition by way of a chance meeting with a Ukrainian psychic or a bad tuna steak. Two nights ago I lay in bed, tossing and turning, sheets soaked in sweat, muscles aching in a way that no masseuse could provide relief for. The irony of all the work I was putting into getting some ‘rest’ was not lost on me then, even in my fatigue. After what felt like years of concerted effort I lost my sense of time and place, and was left floating in a sea of darkness and shadowy distorted images from the past and my imagination…until this vertigo of sorts was shattered, and my equilibrium and inner compass grounded as a figure loomed over me, faceless and near shapeless. And it said…
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“‘<st1:city w:st="on"><st1>Atlanta</st1> </st1:city>is not the end.’
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“Now when I came to I thought for sure that it had been a feverish dream, that my resolve to purify my body of its familiar toxins had brought on some kind of temporary madness…but then when I went downstairs…
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(NOVA is whispering now, leaning closer to the camera.)
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NOVA: “…there were footprints leading towards the door, prints marked not by the morning dew or mud from the path to my house…but red clay.”
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(Without warning the EAGLEstar leaps to his feet, grabs a fistful of curtain in each hand and throws them open! Sunlight floods the cabin loft, and from the window is visible a vast expanse of tree-tops surrounding the foothills of the mountains that enclose the lake. NOVA thrusts a finger against the pane of glass, wild sleepless eyes staring into the camera, all traces of poise or reserve now erased from the champion’s face.)
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NOVA: “We’re in the middle of f(BLEEP!)ing <st1>APPALACHIA</st1>, John! There isn’t so much as a speck of clay soil for a thousand miles in any direction! This isn’t Martha’s f(BLEEP!)g Vineyard!”
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(NOVA collapses into a chair, chest heaving, and runs his hands through his hair.)
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NOVA: “It could be nothing. It…(taking a breath)…could be nothing. I’m sorry, John. I’m sorry for this manic-depressive rant. One minute I’m waving pom-poms in your face and the next I’m building conspiracy theories about phantom intruders, and I’m sure you don’t know what to think. But I haven’t felt like myself the last…couple of days. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t maintain a conversation that might lead to me getting laid, and I can’t jerk off when I’m by myself, which I have been.”
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(The EAGLEstar takes another deep breath…(SFX: CRINK!)…before realizing the empty glass on the stand next to his chair which he had been gripping has shattered. He slowly opens his hand and bits of glass clatter across the end-table’s surface. NOVA stares down at his hand, shaking the pain out of it as tiny of rivulets of blood drip from the bottom of his palm. When he looks back into the camera, a kind of quiet desperation has replaced the frenzied panic of moments earlier.)
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NOVA: “I don’t know what’s causing this...this – f(BLEEP!)k, it’s so ethereal, so ominous that I don’t even know how to describe it – but whatever it is, I may not know its origin…its solution…or its ultimate ramifications…but I do know this, John: you were right to call this the match of BOTH our lives…because if you can defeat me, then you’ll open the eyes of the blind to ‘New Life’ Johnathan Rhine; and conversely, if I don’t survive you somehow in Atlanta…”
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(NOVA rips off his left shirt sleeve and wraps it around his hand before turning his gaze back to the camera.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “…I may never find the answers I’m looking for.”
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(FADE TO BLACK)<o>
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