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WRESTLEVERSE III - Barbed Wire Bat/Ladder Match - Anarky vs. Marcus Westcott

JLevinson

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(FADEIN to an empty gym. It's almost completely dark and silent, minus the rhythmic heavy breathing of a single man. The camera pans around the corner and on a bench, his head down with a towel over it, is Anarky, his tattoos giving him away. A small puddle of sweat is developing beneath him.)

ANARKY: "Doesn't... really... matter... what I do. F*cked... myself... this time. Making fast... enemies. Miles... Westcott... doesn't matter who is on what side... none can be trusted... "

(His breathing begins to slow and calm, but he doesn't move, or face the camera.)

ANARKY: "You can look at it on paper all you want... barbed wire... ladder match... f*cking chaos... a violent bloodbath... small children will need years of therapy to recover from this madness....

"... but it doesn't help me at all. Any second Miles is just gonna stab me in the f*cking back, you see... because we've gone down this clusterf*ck path now... and there ain't no goin' back...

"Why you, Westcott... why f*ck with your sh*t, why not someone else...

"... but really, what's the difference...

"... so now I'm their little plaything and they want me to dance and do Miles' bidding? For what? Cause the crybaby got hurt? In a ring?

"Truth is... Westcott... I did what I had to do... to expose him... to expose you...

"... why you waste your time... on this sideshow. This nothing... he's a watcher... a critic... not a doer...

"... he wants to sit back and make you jump through hoops and yet at the end of the day, it's all his pathetic little cry for attention because at the end of the day, he can't get it done... he has to be on the sidelines, crying, making excuses, because that's all he's good at... overrated... never was...

"... and you, Westcott... you just waste your time and everyone's with this bullsh*t... this vengeance on someone who isn't even worth fighting... all you've done for nothing... so Miles could sit back and wait until your back was turned, again, cause it's really the only chance someone like him has...

"I'm doing you a favor, Westcott, Beast, whatever you want to be... whoever it is you are...

"... because I'm giving you something to be. Something worth fighting for. A real opponent. Not some two-bit chicken sh*t nothing who dreams about the days when people still thought he had potential rather than when we all realized we were probably smoking crack...

"Yet for me to drag you out of obscurity, Westcott... to take your limp, lifeless carcass and make it mean something... well, my friend, a price has to be paid... some blood must be spilled, right?

"After all, this is what I am...

"... at the end of the day, I didn't do it to save you, Westcott, or to humiliate Miles, though these things amused me but for a moment before I moved on...

"... no, my friends, the truth is, I saw the little game you played, and I wanted to play, too, but I wanted to take all your little toys and smash them up... to make you cry to your mommy and daddy...

"Miles is already crying, Westcott... through his lawyer, through his actions... through his INACTION... through sitting by the sidelines, KNOWING HE CAN'T F*CK WITH ME."

(He finally pulls off the towel and looks up at the camera, apparently gaining some newfound energy.)

ANARKY: "It doesn't really matter what bullsh*t Miles has planed, Westcott... cause in the end, he's the sideline, the Rob Schneider, crackin' jokes on the sidelines, and you... well, you can be anything... but me...

"Oh, it's too late for me. Inertia is suicide. I can't sit back any longer. There's no rhyme or reason to any of this. I can no longer predict the future, or even 5 minutes from now. Your guess is as good as mine.

"But if I were to give you a piece of advice, Westcott... it would be to expect the worst...

"... for if I have learned anything... it is that while there are pretenders and jokesters and sidekicks and talkers...

"... I am none of those things. And you, too, will come to know this. Know it well.

"And know nothing else... doomed and doomed again, like me...

"... to endlessly repeat... recycle... live and die again...

"... it doesn't matter...

"... we are all f*cked... but...

"... hey, at least the drugs are good... "

(FADEOUT as he just grins wildy into the camera.)
 

MarcusWestcott

League Member
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Jan 1, 2000
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(Fade in to a personal private gym. The room is huge One wall is lined halfway with cardio machines; a treadmill, stair climber, stationary bike, and eliptical machine, before giving way to a corner that has been taken over by a humongous universal gym. The second wall has various free weight stations and weight racks, and the third has a heavy bag and speed bag stations that give way to a beverage and food, complete with water and Gatorade stations, and another packed with energy bars and fresh snacks. The fourth wall has the gym door and a long mirror. But in the middle of the large room lies a wrestling ring. In the middle of the ring is a 20 foot ladder, with the former EPW World Heavyweight Champion Marcus Westcott sitting atop it, wearing a red and white Detroit Red Wings t-shirt and black track pants, along with the new striped Eddie Van Halen high tops.)

Marcus: Well, through all of this, Anarky... throughout this entire, poor excuse for an Unbeatable Banzuke Challenge... you've taken at least one thing away from it all, and realized a very important, singular truth...

You've REALLY f*cked yourself this time.

(Marcus takes a few steps forward down the ladder and jumps down to the ring below. He lands and bounces forwards a step, and comes to stand in front of the ladder.)

Marcus: And you've got no one to blame but yourself.

Don't trust anyone? You're just NOW figuring this out? I've been through it all, 'Nark... come on, you've been around long enough to know. I've ran the gamut of trust, mistrust, and betrayals. I've had best friends stab that knife in my back and almost end my career. I've had the women of my life take that knife and twist it around until I thought the pain would never end.

Hell, Anarky... I've been the guy that's used the knife myself.

Maybe I've been gullible in my time... maybe I've been a bit naive. But eventually, I learned.

Maybe it took too many times... maybe it took all the former friends to each take their turns betraying me and each taking their shot at making sure I'd never step in the ring again. Maybe it took all the women who tried to do the same thing with my emotions... maybe it took wrestling for a man that tried to humiliate me, degrade me, and keep me down at every turn to realize that NOT EVERYONE in this business is going to be there to look out for what's best for me. Maybe it took a f*cking YEAR of all this sh*t... all the backstabbing, lying, and deceiving while two entire federations and guys like you and me tried to tear each other apart over the ULTIMATE betrayal...

(Marcus is all fired up now, pacing fast across the ring. He grabs the ladder and DUMPS it over the top rope of the ring, and it clatters to the floor, making a huge commotion.)

Marcus: ... to figure out on my own that the only person I can depend on... IS ME.

Maybe...

...maybe... maybe I've got issues.

To hell with all the small children... *I* need therapy.

(Marcus slowly turns around in a circle, his arms spreading wide as if he's trying to encompass everything.)

Marcus: But all of this... everything that's happened between us... between Miles... 'Nark... this is all YOUR fault.

You've REALLY f*cked yourself, and you sonofab*tch, you DESERVE IT!
Look at yourself, Anarky with a "k".

(Marcus stops pacing in the center of the ring, and YELLS out.)

Marcus: LOOK AT YOURSELF!!!

You... Anarky... the bringer of chaos... the man that people FEARED to get into the ring with... hell, the man that even *I* get nervous about stepping into the ring with... having a freaking nervous breakdown...

All over Craig Miles.

After everything he's put me through over the last few months... did you REALLY think you could TRUST him to do the "right thing" in that match? Did you really think he was going to call that match down the middle? Has that guy ever done ANYTHING legit?

YOU CHOSE THIS PATH, ANARKY!!

YOU'RE the stupid F*CK that went after Miles in that match a couple Aggressions ago! Yeah, he blasted you with some flame, but he f*cked ALL of us in that match! YOU'RE the one that had to take it to the next level! YOU'RE the one that broke a f*cking BASEBALL BAT over the back of his head! YOU'RE the one that hit him with a Chaos Breaker on that tag belt! YOU'RE the one that put him in that barbed wire crossface!
YOU'RE the one that brought all of this on!

Me... I was content to wrestle that match, as crazy as it was, but Miles got in your head, and you LET it happen. You COULD have left it alone, Anarky. After all, aren't you the one that told me before that this was just all business and nothing personal? Or was that only when it served your purposes during the EPW/A1E war, and now that it's hit a little closer to home, what, now that the shoe's on the other foot and YOU'RE the one that's been wronged, all of a sudden it's a big f*cking deal?

Whatever floats your boat, pal. I'm not the one sitting here freaking out about how deep Miles is going to bury that knife into my back.
I KNOW it's going to happen.

This was MY fight, Anarky. Miles was MY problem. And now you've gone and made it YOUR problem, and YOU get to suffer for it.

You said it yourself, 'Nark. You wanted to play.

A couple of Aggressions ago, you and I got into that ring, and we fought a f*cking WAR alongside Red in that ring! We beat the sh*t out of each other on levels the rest of the hacks in the locker room could only WISH to duplicate, and where most guys would fall and stay down in a ever-growing pool of their own blood... we not only GOT UP... but we ENDURED.
I went through HELL in that match, Anarky... we all beat the HELL out of each other, and when you brought those thumbtacks out... I STILL managed to fight back and send BOTH of you into the pile of those little metal bastards! You destroyed me with a chair... you put me through a F*CKING FLAMING TABLE, and I got back up.

And that's exactly what I'm going to do when Miles tries to drive that knife into my back this week. Can you say the same? Or are you going to let him BEAT you?

What the hell are you going to expose me for? Being a standout WRESTLER that can also dish and take his licks, and keep on ticking?

This match... this isn't about you and me, 'Nark. This isn't even about the #1 contendership to the EPW World Heavyweight Championship. All that takes a back seat to making you an example to HIM. It doesn't matter that it's you across the ring from me this week. It could be you, it could be Sean Stevens himself, it could be Dan Ryan... it could be Beastlet for all I f*cking care...

But all it means that my opponent is a stepping stone to getting to Craig Miles, and 'Nark, I'm going to use you as an example to HIM. This match is going to be even more brutal than the one we went through two weeks ago. The pain, the blood, the SH*T that we do to each other is going to be off the charts, given there's a ladder and barbed wire involved.

I. DON'T. CARE.

You, my friend, are going to be NOT the carcass you take out of obscurity as you plan... no... but you are going to be the beaten, bloody, shredded, mutilated, F*CKED UP form that *I* toss at Miles' feet in challenge to HIM.

As a statement to HIM. To let HIM know that he's NEXT.

You... Anarky... are just a sack of sh*t to be tossed away when it's all over and done with.

And then the REAL war can begin.

(Fade out.)
 

JLevinson

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(FADEIN to an empty part of what appears to be... a desert. Anarky stands there, next to a black Harley Davidson, staring off into the endless blue sky. The camera slowly approaches him. He doesn't seem to care at all.)

ANARKY: "Do you know how it feels, Marcus? May I call you that?

Marcus... can you... know the weight on my shoulders? The weight... on us all? This... great pressure?

"Carpe diem, Marcus. Don't let this moment pass you by they say... for you may never have another...

"But that's just sh*t.... isn't it... we are nothing... not even dust... we should f*cking envy dust, for all its relevance...

"... but you don't see at all, Marcus. Always striving. Seeking. Attaining. Little monkey needs his banana... will do anything. Will jump through hoops and do tricks.

"Miles keeps pullin' that banana further and further along, isn't he, Westcott? All those broken promises... like the deadbeat father you envied other children for having... "

(He pulls out a cigarette and lights it, contemplating the smoke trailing off into the sky.)

ANARKY: "My whole... f*cking life... is a nervous breakdown, Marcus. This thing inside me... this doubt... this fear...

"It has always been, Marcus. Can you not see? This is... what I am.

"Or was...

"Always... f*cking myself... and you... and everyone else... it's what I do...

"Some men... are builders. Some... are leaders. Me... I am none of those things... nor are you...

"We are men who tear things down. Who expose weakness. Who destroy each other to fulfill the bloodlust this society demands... and cannot provide.

"You mistake me, friend.

"I am not... confused. I know the stab of betrayal. I know the cold caress of vengeance.

"Miles... in... my head... ?

"You forget, my friend. I already have what I wanted. I have you on a platter. I have Miles on the sidelines, sobbing his little story.

"Just because I know I'm f*cked doesn't mean I don't like getting f*cked this way, am I right?

"This... this little clusterf*ck... you don't... think I want this... ?

"My friend... this... this is what I live for...

"This beautiful f*cking moment you and I can make now...

"You see... while Miles was getting you to do your little doggy tricks... I was rotting away... nowhere... nothing...

"Now... I am rotting away... nothing... but you're here with me, and just like that, I can f*ck with Craig Miles, too... truth is, he's just always irritated me.

"You are right, Marcus. I did... choose this.

"And I will continue to choose this. To want this. To bathe in this.

"I... can't be anything else... I tried... I really did...

"But... there's nothing left for me out there... nothing... worth being... worth doing...

"All that I can ever be I was... and lost... and won again...

"You... should be afraid, Marcus. But not of me. And certainly not of Craig.

"You should be afraid of yourself. Afraid of what you might discover. That you and I... aren't so different after all.

"We are both monsters... hideous freaks in the sideshow...

"... the only difference, I guess... is that you do it to prove something...

"... and I just do it...

"... cause it feels good."

(He smiles and the camera pans away and fades to black.)
 

MarcusWestcott

League Member
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
501
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Age
48
Location
Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada
Website
www.a1e.ca
(Fade in... to Marcus Westcott, in a vintage black 1978 Van Halen World Tour t-shirt, jeans, and EVH-striped high-tops, in front of an EPW WRESTLEVERSE set.)

Marcus: Wrestleverse... this is the event on the EPW calendar that *I* have become synonymous with. At Wrestleverse I, it was me as World Champion that put on a five-star clinic and embarrassed Adam Benjamin. And at Wrestleverse II, it was I that made my return and took this very company out from underneath Dan Ryan.

And now, at Wrestleverse III, it is time to defeat a man that has through the EPW/A1E wars and now through Craig Miles' fancy... has quietly become my nemesis.

This is a match that will be among the most brutal of those ever put on in Empire Pro. You've got two guys who's specialty is systematically destroying their opponents - but only now, we get IMPLEMENTS to play with. This is match that when it's all over, most people in this industry will define us by.

This is match, that while I initially shrugged off the importance of, has all kinds of ramifications and repercussions. The winner will leave their opponent a beaten, bloody, broken mess. The winner will become the #1 contender to the Empire Pro World Heavyweight Championship. The winner will be able to go after Craig Miles.

And while I initially brushed it off, I've been thinking more and more about this match every day. I've been CONSUMING myself with this match - not because of what it involves or the title shot that goes along with it. I've been TAKEN by this match, because for the first time other than Housefly and Dan Ryan, I've reached a personal level of hatred for Craig Miles reserved for only very few.

(Marcus spits on the floor of the set before continuing,)

Marcus: And for that reason alone... I am more driven to win this match, than I've been driven in some time.

And Anarky... that's a weight that *I* put on my *OWN* shoulders. The pressures I feel are only those that I put on myself. You... you're just an obstacle. You are a CHIP on my shoulder. The pressure... the weights on my shoulders have always been there.

They are the weights of expectation. They are the weights of a champion. The weights of a drive and focus so deep that the intensity is off the charts.

The forces you put on my shoulders, or those of anyone else... are simple to bear. Only when I bury myself under so much weight will I crack or fall.
Now, I can't claim to know you, Anarky... nor can I claim to know how YOUR weight feels... it seems as though I may be the only one of us grounded in any form of reality. While you're probably off somewhere in Nevada staging the Sahara desert, like NASA staging the moon landing, *I'm* here grounded in reality.

Craig Miles may be the one holding the string and pulling the banana, Anarky, but that banana and that string still lead right to his hand, and I will follow it until it takes me straight to him. That's the perserverance and determination of the hunt.

And I'm not the only victim.

You're just as much as a victim as I, and while I'm doing my best to reel in that string, you're off in some wonderland pissing and moaning that the other victim in all of this - Lindsay Troy - should have USED that set of balls between her legs and STOOD UP to Miles from a legal standpoint in all of this...

I simply accept the situation for what it is.

And I'll adapt to the situation as it unfolds, and when the time comes, I'll *conquer* it like I've conquered everything else in my career.

Like I'm going to conquer YOU.

You know, 'Nark, you're probably right... you and I probably aren't all that different. We're each a couple of horses, running our own, but similar races.

And if I had to choose between a horse that's out there frolicking around and being a free spirit versus one that's focused on the winner's circle...

... well, that choice makes itself.

(Fade out.)
 

JLevinson

Diva Tree
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
707
Points
0
Age
43
(OORP: So sorry for the late posting, I just got home from work after moving two couches into my hellish apartment and blah blah blah. Got home 10 minutes ago. If you want to disqualify this RP, go ahead, but I'd rather Westcott got a chance to reply. Just my two cents. - JL)

(FADEIN to Anarky and only him, bathed in light, surrounded by darkness. Nothing else is visible, and his eyes are closed. A cigarette dangles from his hands and the smoke flows up through the light. Suddenly, a voice is heard, the sound of a reporter, but it's disembodied... Anarky answers anyway... )

VOICE: "So... WrestleVerse III. You and Marcus Westcott, formerly known as Beast. Perhaps one of the greatest names associated with Empire Pro. Tell me... how have you prepared?"

ANARKY: "Prepared?" (He chuckles.) "How does one prepare... for a man such as Westcott. I know what you want me to say. That I prepare for it like any other match. But I'd be lying.

"Truth is... this is going to be one of the greatest challenges in my life. I'm not insane. I know what I've done. I've gotten between a man and his dark dreams."

VOICE: "And why did you do it? Interject yourself between them? Surely there were safer ways to the top."

ANARKY: "Not all of us want to go to the top... some of us... are just looking for something else. Westcott is a man I had come to... not quite respect, but almost admire. He fascinates me. And he was so consumed with someone... so beneath him. So unworthy.

"Miles."

VOICE: "Why do you have such hatred for Miles?"

ANARKY: "I don't hate him... he's an annoying child. He constantly craves attention he does not deserve. A self-made legend in his own mind. Famous more for his claims of fame than anything else.

"But I do not hate him... I pity him... for thinking he is worth the t-shirts his name is printed on... "

VOICE: "I still don't believe you've answered the question. We know why you went after Miles, but why Westcott? Simply guilt by association?"

ANARKY: "No, nothing like that... it's just... I needed this. I was... am.. nothing. Lost. Pathless. Without destiny or fate. I lack even goals. All I know is that I needed to be here... and in front of me was Miles' neck, and then next thing I know he was writhing on the ground... "

VOICE: "Surely you don't expect us to believe that. Even a sadist such as yourself has goals. Even you attempt to win matches, do you not?"

ANARKY: "Well, sure... if only to deprive the other guy. It's not so much that I've won, as you've lost... and this... pleases me... "

VOICE: "And so you fashion yourself some Lewis Black... telling it as it is, so to speak? Destroying the dreams of others as a social commentary on dreams themselves?"

ANARKY: "No, man... it's... listen. Some us need to know what's inside of us, okay? And the only way... is to break it all down... all the barriers... everything. Only through our pain and suffering is that possible. Only by pushing harder and farther... can we learn anything."

VOICE: "Ah, such a poet you are, Anarky. And you shall teach us all a lesson, is that it? By giving us the blood we crave, by giving us a story to tell... you indict us in your madness. You pass blame on to society, not yourself. You are not the monster, are you... "

ANARKY: "I'm as guilty as you... as anyone... what... what else can I do? There's nothing else for me... Westcott might as well be my future wife... he's everything now... "

VOICE: "And beneath it all, for all you posturing, you still care. You still seek validation. You still need to feel superior. Stronger. More filled with hate."

ANARKY: "No, never... what... I f*cking lose... I lost to First... it happens... life goes on... "

VOICE: "So why try... why care at all."

ANARKY: "F*ck you, man, this sh*t is over... what the f*ck... "

(Suddenly the screen cuts to a flooded hotel room and Anarky startles from a dream, it seems. He looks around at the hotel, which is knee-deep in some sick brown liquid. An entirely too young prostitute lies unconscious (we hope?) on the bed next to him. He-Man figures are strewn about the bed as well as a large brown dildo which still seems to be vibrating. He seems to be wearing a tiara of some kind.)

ANARKY: "F*ck. I'm gonna need another lawyer."

(FADEOUT.)
 

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