[Welcome to that oh-so-wet slow fade, baby. This is how we do it, it's how we've always done it. Team Danger giving that underground, old-school love. Cue it.]
[Slow fade up.]
"Is this all there is?"
[We find Stephen Greer, hero of all heroes, sitting at a bus stop. It's pitch black, which for you not-so-bright type means "night time". Greer sits beneath a flickering streetlight, a bottle in his hand. Sirens can be heard in the distance and gunfire in the immediate.]
Greer: Is there ever going to be a time where this interests me more than casually? Will I ever find the time to devote myself completely, whole-heartedly and passionately? Will any of you out there ever bring out the demons again?
[He downs a huge swig from what we now see is a fifth of Southern Comfort. He wipes away the residue left behind with the sleeve of his black "TapouT" hoodie.]
[Enter Kelly Evans. Her attire turns no heads in this part of town, but for most, "prostitute" would be the guess. Short black miniskirt, fishnet stockings, black stiletto heels and a black leather boustier and the package is complete. She takes her place next to her partner and opens her Dolce & Gabana handbag, something that DOES make her stand out amongst the "working girls".]
Evans: Are we still drinking and pontificating?
[Greer downs more of the fiery liquid into his gullet as Evans removes her cigarettes from her bag, lights one and takes a long slow drag, releasing the smoke from her crimson-coated lips as she nestles into Greer's ribcage.]
Greer: I want a challenge, Kelly. I want someone to inspire me. I'm not trying to be smug either, I'm dead serious. The best anyone has done lately is trying to set us on fire. Damian Dante Stone? What the **** is that about? Is doing to us something we did to others YEARS ago going to shake us? Never. Be innovative, be original, don't use our own material against us.
[The drinks continue as Evans adjusts herself on the bench, now sitting with her legs wide open.]
Greer: Texas Lightning tried to shoot on us in some little promo about how great he is. TL, prove to me ONCE that you are better and you can continue cutting those decade old, dead Texas wrestling promos. Your best days are behind you because they never existed. Accept this and move on.
[A car pulls up off-screen and Evans leaves the bench to approach, Greer continues.]
Greer: I guess the point I'm trying to make is that if you want my best game, you're going to have to give me a reason to bring it. If you want to see what I can do, line up some worthy opponents. Bring in some quality opposition. Classy Mike C, I don't care what happens with you. I'm looking beyond you. You might get lucky and score that pinfall, but I'll still have my title match at "Superiority" and I'll still walk out with the belt. And since I've done my quota and mentioned your pitiful existence, I can move on to the important matches.
[Evans returns to the bench, clutching a switchblade in her hand, wiping it on her skirt in a back and forth motion before sitting down once more. She begins to spin the knife in her fist.]
Greer: "Superiority." How appropriate. Team Danger proved at Blood Bath that we are the hands-down greatest competitors the EUWC has ever seen. Our first match in this place and we DESTROY every tag team on the roster and take the belts. Less than an hour later, we dominate the Blood Bath match and I walk out the victor, a guaranteed World Title Shot in my grasp.
And then I waited. And waited. And waited. And then finally, Team Danger defends the belts... and we murder Texas Lightning. Now it's time to do it all again. A big Pay-Per-View and Team Danger gets paid. The EUWC thinks they'll cripple us by putting us in two matches each, but I might ask you, did that work at Blood Bath? No, of course it didn't. Why must we prove you wrong again?
Is having us kill the Moundfields again going to prove anything aside from how weak your Tag Team division is? And speaking of which, why THEM of all the teams? Is it because they're aligning themselves with Classy Mike C to form some new group?
[Evans pokes at her breast with the knife, chiming in.]
Evans: I thought you already talked about that loser.
Greer: I did indeed, but thoughts circled and found him again in the company of two men that we crippled not once, but twice. Do you really want to walk this path again, guys? Do you want us to end you as we did Nero and Big G? Please reconsider coming to the ring boys, we might have to make you even more brain damaged than last time.
[Evans has moved the knife to her inner thigh. Pushing harder and harder until the incision is made. Her head rocks back and then forward as she plunges the tip of the blade deeper.]
Greer: And then we move onto Sean Taylor. You've got the belt, I want it. Plain and simple, no frills, no bull****. Come Sunday July tenth we will do it easy... or we'll do it REAL easy. One way or another, I'm leaving with the belt. Enough.
[Greer reaches over and removes the knife from Evans' hand and sticks it into the bench. The blood runs down her thigh as Greer pours the liquor on the wound. Evans arches back and then springs up, seeing headlights approach.]
Greer: World Champion... once again.
[A Ford Econoline van pulls up to the bus stop and rolls the passenger window down. The voice of what seems to be a black male comes from within.]
"You ****ers getting in or what?"
[And it's Tyrone Walker, of course. Greer stands up and opens the door, letting Evans climb in as he follows.]
Walker: It's three in the damn morning. What the hell are you doing out here anyway?
[Greer throws the bottle out the window and looks to his partner.]
Greer: Just thinking man, just thinking.
Walker: Well, think at home next time... and during the day... not when I'm sleeping.
[Walker's laugh causes Greer to chuckle as the van pulls away.]
[Welcome to the darkside once again. It's necessary that we do this because it seems as though people are overstepping their bounds. It's time to put those egos back in check, kiddies. It's time to give you all the big "f uck you" going into Superiority II. Welcome back to reality.]
[You love the slow fade. You envy the slow fade. You wish you could master the slow fade like we have. But just to show you how it's done the right way, here we go.]
[On the road again, Part one of one. Outside of Philadelphia, a banged up, blue Ford F-150 pickup truck whips into a truck stop, clipping several cars and a gas pump before coming to a screeching hault. Several truckers scatter into the lot to ensure their "rigs" are intact. They turn their attention to the truck that sits idle when suddenly a figure pops up out of the bed of the truck. Grumbling can be heard from the crowd.]
"What in the hell is that?"
"**** it, rush 'im."
[The truckers start forward when the sun catches a quick glimmer from the blade of a surgical scalpel. The figure turns and that same sun glares off of the mirrored sunglasses hiding the eyes just below his surgical cap, a surgical mask covering the remainder of the face. The man jumps to his feet, revealing his standard issue operating scrubs covered by a blood-soaked apron. The man steps forward and dives over the tailgate, landing in front of the truckers. He raises his scalpel once more into their faces as they flee.]
"Get the hell away from this psycho!"
[Several semi-trucks kick it into high gear as the driver's side door of the truck flies open, crashing into the gas pump. The driver? The lovable "King of Pain" himself, Stephen Greer. He approaches the gas pump and removes the nozzle, prepping for a fill.]
Greer: Hey now, quit scaring the locals. I mean, sure, this isn't exactly my favorite place either, but no need to get the cops involved... again.
[The "surgeon" turns to Greer and shrugs.]
Greer: Yeah yeah, I know, you were innocent, but they still came, didn't they? We don't need to go through that again.
[As Greer continues to fill up the tank, his "surgeon" companion surveys the area and begins to explore, turning his attention mostly to the roadside.]
Greer: I can't believe I'm going through this again. I am the EUWC World Heavyweight Champion. It's already said and done. The only thing between me and MY belt is Sean Taylor. He tried to put one over on me at Main Frame and still, I took out "Classy" Mike C. No problems.
[Screeching tires and carhorns are heard in the distance, but pay no mind.]
Greer: Now, two days away from destiny and all I have to do is drive around Philadelphia until Ty and Kelly get here. Sure, the Doc over there is fun, but seriously, not exactly the best training partner or a big talker. But of course, the time for talking is over. The Moundfields are silent, as they should be. No words are ever needed from them as the only sound that suits them is the gurgling of blood as their bodies desperately try to keep their lungs from filling.
[A loud crash is heard from the interstate followed by a consistent car horn blaring through the open air.]
Greer: Oh, **** me.
[Greer slams the nozzle back into the pump and runs toward the interstate. There, we find the deranged "Doctor" standing in the middle of the four lane highway, leaning into the window of a crashed Tempo. The airbags are deployed as a result of the high-speed impact with the back of a minivan. Greer reaches the accident and is going ballistic.]
Greer: What the hell are you doing, Doc? You're always fun and games and this is always what happens! We need to get out of here!
[Silence. Save for that car horn, of course.]
Greer: I know you're a doctor, man, but that doesn't matter. No, I'm not discrediting your credentials, but you're already covered in blood and I don't think that'll look good.
[The "doctor" tilts his head towards Greer.]
Greer: Yeah? It COULD be from this crash but what if they do DNA? They'll know all about the hooke... no, I'm not trying to bust you. Whatever! Let's just get the hell out of here so we can relax before the matches!
[The "doctor" shrugs his shoulders, throws his hands up and then violently pulls the driver of the Tempo out of the car through the shattered driver's side window. Dragging her body across the broken glass, the "doctor" begins removing the clothing of the young woman with his scalpel. Greer runs back toward the truck and starts the engine. A crowd begins to gather outside the truckstop as many immediately dial for assistance with their cell phones.]
Greer: Doc, let's go! Now!
[The "doctor" lifts his head off of the chest of the injured young woman and rises to his feet. He slowly and methodically returns to the truck and lies down in the bed of the pickup. Several bystanders rush to the vehicle screaming.]
"Hey! Where are you going?! You're a doctor! Help these people!"
[The "doctor" sits straight up and shoots his head in their direction, quickly giving them the finger. Literally. Tossing a single dismembered finger toward the horrified crowd as Greer drives his foot nearly through the gas pedal as the truck flies back onto the interstate, the distant sounds of sirens on the horizon. Greer turns the radio down and mumbles to himself.]
Greer: Two days, one World Title. My belt. My belt.
[Bright lights. Big City.]
[We return to the pickup truck flying down the interstate, somewhere near the New Jersey state line. Night has fallen as Greer pulls over to the side of the road. Finally sensing the ordeal is over, he opens the back window causing the "doctor" to immediately shoot up and turn towards the driver.]
Greer: Oh, Dr. Crime, what am I going to do with you?
(Sean Taylor walks into the backstage area after a match at a house show. Kandi Reed meets up with him.)
Sean: Hey, Kandi. What's up?
Kandi: I thought I would get your thoughts on Greer's latest statements.
Sean: What statements? Seriously. He barely said a single meaningful word against me. Is this what the new EUWC is going to consider number one contenders now? I mean, MAN! "We'll do it easy way or the REAL easy way" What the heck does that mean? The guy can't even spit out a cheesy over-used cliche properly. Greer, listen to me, it goes "We'll do this the easy way or the hard way". That's the way it goes. Two easy ways are just stupid. Why would anyone choose between an easy way and a more easy way? That's just silly. Sorry. Kandi, you better ask me specific question before my head caves in with confusion due to lack of logic.
Kandi: Alright. Stephen Greer won the Blood Bath match to gain his number one contendership. What kind of impression did that make on you?
Sean: To be honest, I didn't watch the Blood Bath match. I was in the back getting ready for my match - in the main event. To be even more honest, I don't really much about the supposed "King of Pain" Stephen Greer. I haven't looked over his career. I haven't watched his matches in the EUWC. I've barely been able to keep interest in his promos. So, yeah, ok, I don't know a lot about this guy. From what I hear, he's one of the greatest talents in this business. I hear this guy has held prestigous titles from a long and storied past. I have even had people - big brass type people - telling me that I'm going to need my "A" game to beat this guy. Do I know for sure whether or not these claims are substantiated? No. To be honest, I don't even know the guy.
But "Mr. King of Pain" doesn't know Sean Taylor either. He doesn't know the broad spectrum of my abilities. He doesn't know the sharpness of my mind. He doesn't know why I always know where I am inside that ring. He doesn't know what the Blood Rush feels like or why it's so hard to kickout from. He doesn't know how much punishment I can take and still come back from. He doesn't know what I've had to go through to prove that I deserve to be where I am today. He doesn't doesn't know what this championship means to me. But most importantly, he doesn't know what I'll do to keep it.
Greer, everything I need to know about you, I can learn by watching your promos and your matches.
You'll find out everything you need to about me when I'm walking out of Superiority STILL EUWC World Heavyweight Champion. But it'll take a few minutes for it to sink in.
[The sun sets on Philadelphia as we find oursleves outside the Wachovia Center, the host of EUWC's "Superiority II". About a hundred fans are already lined up outside the venue with over twenty four hours still remaining before the doors open. This is where history for the EUWC will be made when Team Danger makes their second Pay-Per-View appearance for the promotion. Competing in at least three matches Sunday evening, the test begins. But that's tomorrow, today is still time to **** around.]
[The fans chant at the sign of a camera crew collecting footage for the syndicated EUWC programs.]
Crowd: EUWC! EUWC! EUWC!
[These people are morons. This isn't The Who, The Stones or even Springsteen... but it IS Team Danger, so I guess we'll give them a pass this time. We break away from the building itself and take a journey into the backlot of the venue where we find Stephen Greer sitting on the tailgate of the Ford F-150, paying close attention to his laptop.]
Greer: Man, the IPJ's are really taking a beating. Got to love this streaming promo reel Ty set up for the EUWC and WWC. Speaking of which, where in the hell is he?
[Oh, cue the carnage. The roar of the engine echoes through the empty lot as the black and white '67 Shelby GT 500, the personal pride of Tyrone Walker, rips into the lot. Greer's head shoots up as the car barrels toward him, the brakes only being put into action at the last possible second, stopping inches short of colliding with Greer's truck. Both doors fly open and Walker and Kelly Evans emerge. Greer hops down from the truck and embraces his Team Danger partner.]
Greer: About ****ing time, man. I've been sitting here for hours.
Walker: Yeah? Where's your weirdo little friend?
[Greer points at Evans.]
Greer: You brought Kel, dumbass.
Walker: Good call.
Kelly: Hey, **** you both.
Walker: I meant the Doc.
Greer: Oh, "Crime-spree" is out torturing the locals, giving us time to just chill. Did you see this **** Sean Taylor said about me? Trying to give me lectures on how to compose a sentence?
Walker: I know! The IPJ's hooked us up on the road with that clip. I can't believe he didn't get it. The "easy way" is that he dies. "Real easy" is he dies quicker.
Greer: I know! What a tool.
[Greer and Walker both climb into the back of the pickup as Evans leans against the cab.]
Walker: You ready for the match?
Greer: Do you even need to ask? I was born ready to handle this guy. I can't see one thing about him that is going to stop me from just forceably removing his head from his shoulders and walking out with the gold.
Walker: Yeah, but you've been REALLY bi-polar lately. Let's hope the evil "KoP" shows up for this match and not the pansy version.
Greer: What "pansy" version?
Walker: Alright, not "pansy", per se, but the one that loses the big matches. This guy has no idea who you are and is pretending he doesn't care. You need to show him what's up and shut his mouth for good.
Greer: Well, yeah, but trust me, he knows. I've heard the rumors that he's planning to "step up his game" to take me on. Believe me, if what he's offering in promos is an example of the step upward, I'll be back in the locker room with the belt before my music even ends.
[Walker and Greer both laugh as Greer pulls forward a cooler full of Faygo two-liters. Walker chooses his poison and throws back a huge swig as Greer does the same.]
Greer: So, what about your deal? We've been doing our own thing for these freaks with them trying to divide us. What's going on for your match? You ready?
Walker: With who, Hawkeye, that guy?
[Greer nods, Walker laughs.]
Walker: Dude, that guys a rambling mish-mash of nothin' who's only real chance of walking away with a win over me is if he ends up boring me into a coma trying to prove he's some sorta bad ass soldier boy. I mean, damn, did you not see him yammer through minute after pointless, cliche minute of his promo? The IPJ's got you the 'best' of clips of his little speeches, I'm sure.
Greer: Ugh, yeah, I am almost killed myself on the way over listening to them on drive here. But seriously though, if they find a way to bottle his essence, they could cure insomnia in a single blow.
Walker: No doubt, right?
Greer: Right. But I didn't mean just him, are you going to show up and win this thing or am I having to carry us to the finish line as always?
Walker: ****, dude, isn't that your role? To play the pack mule to my Juan Valdez?
Greer: My point, exactly.
Walker: I got it covered, why do you ask?
Greer: Because you got the nasty habit of not showing up when it counts too.
Walker (nod): Aye, this is true, but c'mon, it's friggin' EUWC man.
Kelly: Isn't that what you guys always say?
Greer/Walker: Yeah, and?
Kelly: Just checking.
[Walker and Greer shrug.]
[Greer turns back to Walker.]
Walker: Anyway dude, this is boring, I want to have some fun...
Greer: You want to run the train on Kelly?
Kelly: Excuse me?
Walker: Tempting, but no..
Kelly: Hey, what's wrong with that?
Walker: Uh, yeah, nothin' I guess, good to know in fact, but I had something else in mind.
Kelly (pouting): Ooh...
Greer: You want to go find "crime-spree" and set him loose in the arena overnight?
Walker: DING!! DING!! DING!!
[Greer's brow arches.]
Walker: It's amazing how we think so much alike sometimes...
Greer: Yeah. I think I remember where I dropped him off, lets bail...
[They head for their respective vehicles, Kelly going with Greer.]
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