Post by Kaz on May 21, 2014 21:42:27 GMT -5
[Segment 1 – More Often Than Not – Off Camera]
I stand in on of the many bathrooms of Rabuele Picardos luxurious estate, just outside Guadalajara, Mexico. As I await this weekends Aesinato de Mayo, possibly one of the most important matches of my career, I stare in to the mirror.
Colin Marshall (Voiceover): We all have a weakness. Some are easier to identify, while some lie deep down, hidden in the shadows. Sometimes these weaknesses bar you down…while sometimes, you can use them advantageously. The point of weakness is to work on them and dig your way out of the dregs. Pull your mind from that shallow place that it loves to soak in and take it to the deep end. Take yourself out of that shell and you’ll open your life to new opportunities.
I hear a knock at the door.
Patrick McCoy: Colin, you all right in there?!
Colin Marshall: Yeah dude, I’ll be out in a minute!
I resumed looking in to the mirror, staring at every inch of my face. After just a few short months of being in the WCF, so much has changed already. I came in a hot, arrogant prick…and now I’m…well, I don’t know what exactly I am. Maybe that’s my weakness. I shook my head, my shoulder length hair swaying either way, as I began to run the sink. I stuck my hands under the cool water and splashed it in to my face, washing away my doubts. I dried my hands on the towel rack and exited the bathroom. Patrick was waiting on the other side of the door, his leg hiked up against the wall and his arms folded.
Patrick McCoy: Dude, I told you not to leave me alone with that guy. He gives me the fucking creeps…
Patrick was referring to Miguel Vibaros. Ever since he had met him last week before our Live Chat Extravanganzee, he had received nothing but a shaky feeling from the slick talking millionaire. I didn’t know too much about him, but he was one of Rabuele’s friends. I trusted Rabuele so that had to be worth something.
Colin Marshall: I’m sure he’s fine, Patrick…besides, you can be a little hard to approach sometimes. Remember at the airport, with that group of traveling evangelists?
Patrick McCoy: That was different…I was nice at first, right? I can’t recall these extrenious details.
I lowered my head, keeping my eyes level with his. He looked defeated as we headed to the parlor where Rabuele and his friends were. Two weeks ago, I had met with them at the famous Pacha nightclub in Madrid, Spain. They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. They would pay me a considerable amount of money for every match I won. The money would be transferred from Rabuele’s personal account in to mine. The amount would be disclosed after my victory…something they assured me must happen as they weren’t too thrilled about my loss against Marina Valdivia…but the four way tie last week didn’t seem to upset them too much.
This week, however, was different. It would be the first fatal five way in the history of the People’s Championship. The match would be cast Jordan Ciserano, Bryan Worthy, Peter Quinn, myself…and of course, our champion, Chelsea Black Armstrong. History will me made at the arena in Mexico City.
Patrick McCoy: You ok man? You seem miles away?
I hesitated to answer the question. I felt like somebody was standing behind me, trying to summarize my thoughts and put them in to words. I finally opened my mouth to speak, but as I did, Miguel stepped out in to the foyer. Patrick dived in to the parlor, not wanting to be anywhere near Miguel.
Miguel Vibaro: Ah, mi hermano! Colin, we were just talking about you…well, more specifically, your match this weekend man! We can’t wait to watch you take home the People’s Championship and make us a shitload of money. Anyways, Rabuele’s in there and he wants to talk to you ASAP.
Patrick stood behind Miguel, holding his hand to his forehead and shaking his head. I gave him an unconvincing shrug/smile as I headed past him and in to the parlor with Rabuele. The parlor was fluffed up with a lavish décor, including a burning fire, several leather armchairs, couches, and a full bar. An ornamental chandelier hung from the ceiling, helping the fire cast a dim light across the room. The others that were there with Rabuele and Miguel were now gone, probably having concluded their business while I was in the bathroom. Rabuele approached me, wearing a black suit with a silver trim. He looked at me with his kind eyes, put his hand on my shoulder, and began to speak.
Rabuele Picardos: Miguel, will you show Patrick to his room? I need to speak with Colin, privately.
Miguel Vibaro: What am I, your fucking butler? Nah, I’m just kidding. I’d be more than happy to show Patrick to his room.
Miguel grabbed Patrick by the shoulders, which began looking extremely uncomfortable, and pulled him in to an awkward one armed hug.
Miguel Vibaro: It would give Patrick and me a chance to get to know each other. This is a pretty big house, after all…
Patrick eye’s widened. Miguel began leading him out of the parlor back in to the foyer. Once they were out of sight, Rabuele offered me a drink, which I gladly accepted. You would be a fool to refuse a drink from Rabuele.
Rabuele Picardos: So Colin…I want to know what you plan on doing against these four opponents? Last week was a little messy, and this week, you have one more opponent in the ring. Chelsea Black Armstrong is the People’s Champion for a reason, Colin. She’s fast, strong, and resourceful. You’ll have to be faster, stronger, and the ultimate opportunist. Her Savage Political Action Committee friends are no strangers to violence either, as you may well know from your match in the Trio’s Cup. Your loss to Marina didn’t exactly instill my confidence in your performance.
I gazed down towards the ground. I’d never felt this before…it made me feel like I was getting reprimanded by a father. I kind of wish he was shouting at me now, instead of just addressing me with this disappointed tone of voice.
Colin Marshall: I’m sor…
He cut me off by lifting one gentle hand.
Rabuele Picardos: It’s done, Colin. Sorry is useless to me. I want to see you win, Colin. I want to see you be a champion…but you have to see these things for yourself as well. What do you plan on doing?
Colin Marshall: I’ve been doing my own training regiment, but it doesn’t seem to be cutting it. I don’t even know where to start other than with what I know.
A smile cracked at the side of Rabuele’s wrinkled lip.
Rabuele Picardos: I found someone for you. He’s rough…but he’ll get you in to fighting shape soon enough. I want you to train with him everyday until your match Colin. We don’t want to see you lose again. It wouldn’t be beneficial to anyone involved Colin. Your training starts tomorrow. I have an arena for the two of you for the week. I’ll send the address to your phone. You need to be there bright and early. Punctuality, Colin.
I acquiesce and grin. I took a sip of my drink for the first time and it whets my parched mouth and dry throat. I didn’t want to imagine what would happen if I lost this match...and what kind of rigorous training awaited me in the morning?
[Segment 2 – Savior – Off Camera]
I arose with the worms this morning, making it to the arena before sun up. A slight rain trickled on this ominous Mexico dawn, signaling worse to come for the day. The “arena” was for all intents and purposes, a wooden shed. It was big…but, run down. I searched around for an entrance, but only came across a set of double doors, locked from the outside with a wooden beam. I put down my bag full of my gear and lift the beam from its position, throwing the solid shaft of wood to the ground. It hit the dirt with a thud and then fell over. I pull open the set of double wooden doors to reveal the dark room.
Colin Marshall: Hello?!
There was no response from inside. I stepped in to the shed and begin trying to squint through the darkness. I decided to pull my car up ahead, but I was rounded to leave, the doors slammed shut from the outside. I heard the sound of the beam click in to place, knowing I was trapped inside. There was the sound of a breaker flipping as flood lights poured in to the room, temporarily blinding me. I held up my arm up to my face, trying to block the light. As my eyes were coming in to focus, I see a shape come bumbling towards me. As I open my mouth to speak, I feel a sharp pain explode in my side.
Colin Marshall: What the… (cough)…fuck…(cough)…was that shit?!
A voice boomed through the throbbing in my ears.
(?) : That…was the element of surprise, Colin.
I take a fleeting look at my attacker, but instead a large boot takes his place. I quickly roll out of the way, but he is on me lightning fast. I feel a large pair of arms grab me around my midsection. He lifts me from the ground, slams me in to the corner beam, then throws me down to the ground. The hard earth knocks the wind from my lungs, momentarily choking me. I gag on spit and dirt, trying desperately to catch my breath.
(?): What are you going to do?
I continue choking as my attacker puts his knee in my back. In my frantic haste, I grab a hand full of dirt and toss it behind me. I hear it make impact with him and he begins choking on the dust. His knee lifts from my back and I scramble to my feet. I turn around to face my attacker. He rises quickly to his feet, wiping the rest of the dirt from his face. He stares me down; his gaze pierces my very being. He seems to already be familiar with me, knowing almost every move before I make it. I just stand my ground, holding a defensive position in the corner. His stern maw parts and his voice fractures the silence once again.
(?): Well, you got out a lot sooner than I expected you would, which is certainly a plus.
Colin Marshall: Who the fuck are you?! What in the hell was that?
(?): I’m your new teacher…you can call me Sykes. Get in the ring, Colin.
He indicated towards the wrestling ring that was in the center of the shack. It was the only thing in the entire place that looked well maintained. I held my abdomen as I headed toward the ring. I slid in under the bottom rope and stood in the middle of the ring. Sykes stood outside the ring, putting his hands on the apron. Now that I had the chance to look at him, he looked like a pretty normal person, minus the fact that he had attempted to kill me only moments ago.
Sykes: Colin…do you know why Rabuele hired me?
Sykes asked the question as he climbed the ring apron. My mind began to go to the beating he had unleashed on me. I took another defensive stance as he climbed in through the second rope.
Sykes: It’s because you lack focus…
He took a swing at me, but I rolled under his fist and came up behind him.
Sykes: It’s because you lack discipline…
His leg oscillated and came around for a round house, which I perceived as well and moved back just in time. Without a second’s hesitation, he brought his leg up again and connected with my face. I could taste the blood in my mouth as my back hit the ground.
Sykes: And as you’re falling down, just know that until you adapt, these things are going to keep holding you back.
I gagged on the metallic taste tickling my throat. I spat the blood out on to the clean canvas. I watched as my blood seeped in to the mat, staining it permanently. I put my hand down and lifted myself from the ground, using the turnbuckle to pull myself up. I leaned on the ropes as Sykes was whipping around to talk to me yet again.
Sykes: Colin…you do have heart. Rabuele was right about that…
He rushed me, but I managed to bring my legs up, connecting them with his chest. He grabbed his chest and moved away from me. I charged him, hitting him with a hard double forearm smash. He fell to his knees as I ran against the ropes. I hit him hard across the face with a dropkick and he rolled over on to his side. As I went to kick him in the gut, he snatched my leg and tripped me up. I fell to my back and he climbed to his feet. He grabbed me by the throat as I attempted to stand, using my own momentum to drag me to my feet. He pushed me hard against the ropes.
Sykes: Is this what you’re going to do against Ciserano? Is this how you’re going to let the champion handle you Sunday night? If this is the best you have, then you have a lot to learn Colin.
His words enraged me. I brought a knee up in to his side, but he caught that leg with his free hand. He lifted me off of my feet once again and threw me to the mat. He mounted me and began landing punches to my head, each one hurting less and less as I began to lose consciousness. As I was blacking out, my mind fired. I saw myself, standing in defeat at Asesinato de Mayo. I couldn’t see who the champion was standing above me, but it wasn’t me and that’s all that mattered. I could see Rabuele’s disappointed face, Patrick’s forlorn expression…
Robert: STOP HIM COLIN!!!
My hand came up and I grasped Sykes pummeling fist. His eyes lit up in shock. I brought my free hand up, hitting him across the face and knocking him off of me. I stood up, slipping in pain, but eventually getting to my feet. Sykes was already on his, barreling towards me. I brought my hand up, chopping him across the face. He fell towards the turnbuckle and I ran at him, jumping up and off of his chest, doing a back flip and hitting him with a dropkick on the way down. I used the ropes to climb to my feet and moved towards the turnbuckle as Sykes moved away from it.
Robert: Here we go Colin. Don’t let him get inside of your head. You’re so much better than that. He doesn’t believe it so prove him wrong!
I leaped on to the turnbuckle, and as quick as I did, I leapt off. I hit him with a double foot stomp and he fell to the ground. I hit the mat and rolled to my feet. Sykes was attempting to stand. I grabbed him by the head and put it between my legs. I flipped forward and drove his head in to the mat, knocking him unconscious as I blacked out.
[Segment 3 – You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid – Off Camera]
My eyes opened, feeling a bit swollen, but not too bad. The dim light eased the transition from dead to awake as I shuttered them open and closed.
Colin Marshall: Where am I?
Sykes: We’re still in the shed. You know…you gave me one hell of a beating kid, I’ll admit. It’s not always someone steps in here there first time and gets one over on me like that. I had you down but you pulled that little bit back out…what’s your secret?
I didn’t exactly know. I had never felt anything like that before, as if some silent force was egging me forward, willing me to keep going. I was able to pull it out from being nearly killed but was unable to explain it.
Colin Marshall: Ancient…Chinese…secret…
Sykes chuckled, and began dabbing my head with a soaked cloth that smelled like fart and vodka. To make matters worse, it stung my forehead like a bitch. I winced at the pain, which made Sykes laugh even harder.
Sykes: After that bad ass whooping I just gave you and this little cloth is going to make you cry like a bitch? I never would have imagined.
It was my turn to laugh. His logic made sense.
Sykes: You have an extraordinary ability Colin. You’re allowed to leave that pain and suffering in the ring. I opened up an extra special can for you too, per special orders from Mr. Picardos, of course. Nothing personal, you know?
I nodded.
Sykes: Now you need to learn how to reverse that ability, make it work for you. You need to leave any pain and suffering felt outside of the ring where it belongs…outside of the ring. You go in to these matches with a head of steam and I promise you’re going to wreck like a train. You need to focus in there, like you did against me. If you can do that every time, you’ll be main eventing in no time. You need to remember that these people are trying to hurt you Colin, so you need to hurt them first. You need to hit them hard and fast and I’m not just talking about inside the ring. You need to get inside their heads before you even get there.
Colin Marshall:…ha-ha, I know just where to start too…
[Segment 4 – Should I Bite My Tongue, Until Blood Soaks My Shirt – On Camera]
(The scene opens on Colin, bringing a small pop from the crowd. He was sitting on a leather clad sofa, wearing his ring gear including his white leather jacket. His forearms are resting on his legs and he’s leaning forward, staring dead eye in to the camera)
Colin Marshall: This weekend, history will be made. Five willful souls step in to the ring to face each other for the love of the people and the honor to hold the People’s Championship for them. Sometimes in life, we take things for granted…I was given a shot at the Television Title when I first arrived in the WCF. It was an opportunity squandered as I considered my brash arrogance to be enough for me to claim the Contendership match. I was wrong…and I paid the price when Marina Valdivia proved me wrong when she locked me in her CaliKiller and tapped me out.
(Colin begins massaging his throat, as if recalling the pain the hold put him in)
Colin Marshall: At that moment, I knew exactly what it felt like to be an obstacle in somebody’s way. I played the spiteful, word turning bad guy…and look what it cost me. A chance at early glory in the WCF. Colin Marshall, a name to be remembered and feared. I was defeated…but I still had not hit my lowest point. That came after I split from that group of zealots. I started losing myself in Zenith, because it was easy to cling to an organized mess than being left in free fall. I joined Zenith out of fear, fear that I was going to slip through the cracks. I feel most new superstars would have done the same thing, were they in my position.
(His hands meet between his legs and he folds them)
Colin Marshall: It was what I did to rise out of that cancerous situation. I saw my opening in my match with Jayden and Marilyn against the Savage Political Action Committee. Jayden was dazed and confused, so I hit him with my shine. His psycho wife Marilyn witnessed me do it. I hope she tells Jayden about it every day. How I set him up to live the rest of his life eating through a tube.
(His hands begins rising up, each finger touching the corresponding one on the other hand)
Colin Marshall: Tonight, at Asesinato de Mayo, we have chapter two of myself, Jordan Ciserano, Bryan Worthy and Peter Quinn. Our champion, Chelsea Black Armstrong, will also be joining us this time. Oh…What…Fun…
(A wicked grin spreads across Colin’s face, eliciting a mischievous reaction from the crowd watching)
Colin Marshall: Jordan Ciserano, I know you’re the kind of guy who makes a habit of missing the point, so I’m going to tell you again. You’re nothing but a loose thread on Sequitus quilt, not really terrible enough to trim…but if they got annoyed with you just enough… (Colin makes a scissor motion with his fingers)…SNIP! I’m going to tell you again to get out of Caliban’s trap. The glory you seek does not rest with him. He is a false prophet, feeding you lies to enhance his own career. I know you have what it takes to win Jordan…but not against me.
(Colin swipes his hair behind his head and continues)
Colin Marshall: Bryan. Worthy. I asked you one favor last week…and you couldn’t deliver. I wanted to go out there and blow the roof off with Bryan “Buzz” Worthy! BUT YOU LET ME DOWN! I caught your little promo of you lacing up your boots, talking about the fire in your heart, your love for competition…But I could see the fire in your heart was out, Bryan. There was no “buzz” in that promo at all. I felt like I was watching a vacated Bryan Worthy…All shine, no substance. You’re just a shell of your former self with no claim to the People’s Championship.
(Colin’s mind looks like it switches gears as he carries on)
Colin Marshall: Peter Quinn…I don’t even know what to say about you. You came out to the ring like a lost puppy and fought like a wet beaver. I can’t believe you even still have a job here. I guess I can make sure you don’t after tonight. I guess I just have to drop you on your beautiful head a couple of times, and then they can use Remus or Cormack’s unused stretcher to carry your ass out of the arena. Want to do your self a favor and not even show up tonight? It would be mutually beneficial, as you wouldn’t have to worry about being killed and I wont have to worry about wiping your blood off my boots.
(Colin stands up off the couch and begins making a motion around his waist, signaling championship gold)
Colin Marshall: And last but not least, our People’s Champion, Chelsea Black Armstrong. I have no personal beef against you and I respect you as a champion. I know you just recently obtained that belt…and I’m sorry I have to cut your reign so short. The People’s Championship is coming home with Colin Marshall tonight. It’s my destiny to win and you’re fated to lose. The people have spoken Chelsea, and the sweet words they delight in are The Real Deal Twenty Fourteen and Colin Marshall For The People! You have no idea the fury I’m about to unleash when we step in to the ring tonight. You’ll see a much more focused Colin Marshall than you have seen yet. It all begins at Asesinato de Mayo!
(Colin Marshall walks off screen as it fades to black)
(OOC: Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it, pop by the People's Title Poll and drop a vote for me! Every one counts! Thanks again!)
