The Wrestler Debate

[Kyle]

Trying to get him to understand is like tryin' to nail jelly to a tree.
~Anonymous

The scene opens in the main auditorium of the Portland Chapel of the Dark Saints. Except it doesn't look like the usual, dreary dwelling. A stage is covering the entire front section of the room, with two podiums resting without occupants. A WCF banner is hanging behind these podiums. All the pews, which seat over a thousand people, are filled to the brim. Over the PA, an over-enthusiastic voice rings out.

"Genesis versus the Church. Good versus bad. They meet in the ring soon enough, but before all of that, they step onto a new battlefield. The debate room. That's right! In light of the presidential, the WCF brings you a debate of their own. This is the Wrestler's Debate!"

Cheers from the crowd, most likely prompted by off-stage producers, ring out of the room. And then silence ensures, as the debaters for this evening enter. First comes Waylon Cash. No, again not the real one. Nor was it the actor from last week; he was still stuck under a tree in the basement of the chapel. No, this was a new actor, rocking the overalls and blunt in the front pocket of his flannel shirt. He steps behind his podium, setting his straw hat down in front of him. Complete silence during this whole procession, in case any of the viewers didn't notice. Just like in his matches, and probably his bedroom, Waylon was getting no support.

But the next man who enters gets a loud, sincere cheer. Nathan von Liebert enters, wearing his usual, trashy attire. He climbs the steps onto the stage, staring down Waylon as he steps behind his own podium. Scanning the crowd, Nathan holds up his red hand, balled into a fist, to the ceiling. An eruption from the crowd immediately follows, but they silence once more as soon as Nathan drops his hand. The man over the PA speaks again.

"Now, gentlemen. And Waylon. This is a town hall debate, but before the audience begins asking questions, do any of you have anything to say?"

Without hesitation, Waylon lifts his microphone.

"Of course I have something to say; When am I not runnin' my mouth? Usually, the stuff I say just shows my fuckin' ignorance, but this time I have something important to say. I won the Hellimantion match, bitches! And I did it with the help of Sarah Twilight. And before you even ask, no I couldn't have won that without her. I mean, you saw the last time I tried to fight my own battles when something important was on the line; Henri Ducos sure kicked my ass. But none of that matters. Because I am the winner!"

Nathan nods, before speaking his turn.

"Yes, yes, you were the winner of the match, but you weren't the best competitor in the match. And neither was any member of Genesis. I was the best wrestler in that match, and nothing you can say can disprove that. I single-handedly eliminated the tag team champions. I pinned Dake fucking Ken. What did you do? Pin me? Usually, that is an impressive feat to achieve, but not in the manner that you achieved it.

Everyone saw you save Twilight's ass from getting eliminated by me. Why? That would've left you and I to battle it out. It was your chance to back your words. You said you could kick my ass, right? So why didn't you do it?

Because you couldn't do it.

At least not alone.

So Sarah stayed, and you pinned me. Are you proud of that? That you needed back-up to handle me? I saw it, the WCF universe saw it, and most importantly, Seth saw it.

I was better than you.

That's why I get you one week after Helloween. We're in the WCF classic. Sixteen men, all good competitors for you and I. We could've been on opposite sides of tournament, and possibly met in the finals.

Probably not, since you would've lost before that point.

But Seth was thinking one step ahead. He knew I wanted another shot at you. Not because I was truly threatened by you. But because he knew I could prove that everything you did last week means nothing. Last week, you had an advantage over me. Now, we get to show fans what happens when we fight on an even turf.

Or should I say you're at a disadvantage.

Not because I'm going to do anything special this week.

But because you just fucking suck."

The crowd chuckles, and Waylon crosses his arms, pouting. If only he realized that this was a wrestler's debate; a brawl in the middle of it is acceptable. Alas, Waylon just stands there, as usual, waiting for back-up that never arrives. Who does arrive, though, is the man with the first question.

"Both of you were television champions. A television title is similar to a tourney as you are defending your spot each week. There is no simply losing in this situation. Which of you were the better Television champion."

As usual, Waylon answers first. But, this time, he doesn't look confident; he looks puzzled.

"I held the television championship?"

And that's it. That sums up everything about Waylon's failed experiment as television champion. And it didn't even take two weeks to explain either.

"I said it earlier tonight, but I'll reiterate my point.

I'm better than Waylon Cash.

The two week wonder has nothing on me. His pinfall over me matter little in my mind. He hides behind his Genesis teammates. He is the shadow of Steve Orbit. He fucking sucks. So why even ask the question?

Of course I was the better television champion.

But you did bring up one valid point. The tv title is just like the tournament situation. Its all or nothing in this kind of thing. And as Waylon has proven in the past, he isn't cut of for this kind of thing. You're used to losing, even when a loss doesn't matter. How can you possibly step up when it actually determines something important?

That's the thing; you won't step up.

All you're going to do is fuck up."

The seeker of answers leaves his position, satisfied with the answers he received. Well, except Waylon's answer. Not that Waylon ever satisfied anyone. A second man steps forth, his question asked shortly afterward.

"How are both of you coping with the fact that none of your teammates will be helping you in this match?"

Waylon's jaw drops at this.

"No Sarah Twilight? But who is going to save my ass? Who is going to throw me to the ceiling so I can hit my diving headbutt?"

Nathan smirks at this.

"Yes, soak it in Waylon. I figured it will take you a while to figure it out. You're all alone in this one. You stand there, face-to-face with Satan in the flesh. No one will help you. You get to prove what you didn't prove last week.

You get to prove that you can't beat me.

Waylon, no matter what you say, we all know what you are.

You're a fucking pussy that hides behind his teammates.

But there is no hiding this week, no matter how hard you try. You get to face your fears head-on. Like Sarah Twilight did last week, you get to step out of the spotlight and back into reality.

And reality is about to fuck you up.

You didn't beat me, Waylon. You merely knocked me down. And you couldn't even do it yourself. You might say that a win is a win, and that it was a team match. But, even without a team, I pinned a Hall of Famer. You couldn't do that with five teammates. And then I faced you and Twilight head on. I was outnumbered, and weakened from my dominating performance, while you two were well rested from doing fucking nothing. I had Twilight pinned, I kicked out of a Killshot. I fought until I couldn't fight anymore.

And it did it without help, Waylon.

My name wasn't made in this company alongside others. I was a solo television champion. I single-handedly made Phantasm's life a living hell. I've accomplished many things without aid. Could I survive in the WCF without my Church brothers by my side? Yes, I could.

But, on the other hand, I don't have to leave the church anyway.

I'm legitimate either way.

But you and you're Genesis can't.

How does it feel, Waylon, to ruin Speede's boasting rights? He was proud to tell the world that every member of Genesis held gold. You could've waited a week or two for Sarah Twilight to ruin it instead, but no. You're whole career is about disappointing others, isn't it. So you went out there and lost.

Not that you're not already used to it.

Here's another thing you're used to; you're in the shadows of others. Speede, FPV, and Orbit are all champions. Sarah Twilight, the best sub-par average wrestler, still outshines you. Even Ayria Adams, someone who was easily forgotten upon her departure, is more important to Genesis than you are. Notice how she came to the rescue of Sarah Twilight last week not you.

Sarah Twilight is important to the survival of Genesis.

Waylon Cash is important for nothing.

Waylon Cash is fucking worthless.

And most importantly.

He's going to be worthless this week by himself."

Once more, the question has been answered successfully, allowing another person to step away satisfied. One final person steps up for what should be the final question. And the final nail in Waylon's coffin in this debate.

"There have been several tournaments already this year. Do you feel with your personal outcomes in those tournaments that you are better prepared for this one?"

Waylon just shakes his head, and leaves the stage. Because once again, he has nothing important to say.

"I can answer that question for him. Waylon's past results in tournaments have fully prepared him for the WCF classic. He's going to do this week like he did in the Trios Cup.

He's going to lose in the first round.

When it comes to tournaments, Waylon and I are on the two opposite ends of the spectrum. He has only fought in one tournament, and fought piss poorly in it. Granted, he fucking sucks at every match he wrestles, but this time he had help. Not enough help to get the win, though. So basically, his tournament history is nonexistent.

My, on the other hand, looks outstanding once you explain it.

Don't look at the Trios Cup. My partners, our current World Champion and FPV, hindered me from winning. And even when two of my partners are just as bad as Waylon, we still made it past the first round.

Instead, look at the two tournaments this year where I fought by myself. The One Invitational and the television tourney.

Notice my dominating performance.

Notice my victories.

Notice that I won the entire fucking tournaments.

Waylon, you are going up against a man who has never been beaten in a singles tournament since he arrived at the WCF. I survived a one-day tournament at One. We've seen you try to wrestle two matches in one night. You couldn't even beat FPV, and then you fucked around at War. Me?

I don't fuck around.

Waylon, accept the facts. You were a horrible television champion. You're a horrible singles wrestler. Tournaments are not your friend.

In all honestly, you just fucking suck."

The crowd cheers, knowing their victor. Nathan smiles, as the scene fades out.

----------------------------------------------------

[Post-Debate discussion]

"After addressing Waylon, I shall address Waylon again. Not some actor I hired, but the real, fucking stupid Waylon Cash."

The scene opens following these words, and viewers find themselves back in the auditorium of the Portland Chapel. The same scene is present, except the room is empty. Except NvL, who is seated with his legs swinging off the the side of the stage. He watches the camera, his emotions unreadable on his face.

"I saw your recent interview, Waylon, and I'm surprised that you've accepted what I was preaching earlier. And really, I'm proud of you. I'm proud that you realize your win means nothing. I'm proud that you haven't become a second Steve Orbit.

I'm proud that you accepted your loss this week.

You didn't have to say it, Waylon; I could read it between your true words. You acknowledged my talent, how sick I am. You mention how Roxxy won't be a ringside, as if I wanted anything to do with the bitch. I just want Waylon Cash.

And I don't even care if you're afraid of me.

There, I said it. I spoke the words that you're afraid to admit. You are frightened by Nathan von Liebert. Waylon, the man who is in the midst the stable with god-awful wrestling and fucking ugly women, I am the thing that frightens. Good.

You should be afraid of me.

You painted a target on your forehead when you interfered with my victory last week. All you needed to do was let me pin Twilight, and then pin you. It would've been that easy. And I wouldn't even had messed with you afterwards.

I don't fight fucking idiots for no reason.

But now I have a reason. You pinned me under questionable circumstances. And now, I have to answer those questions. You're not better than me. I know that. Seth Lerch knows that. Odds are, the WCF universe knows it too. But they are going to hold on to your victory. They will cling to it, telling themselves that they have someone who can put the demon down.

And then I'm going to crush their hope this week, making them finally realize that Waylon Cash is not better than NvL.

So trust me, or don't trust me. It matters little. I have one game plan this week; I'm going to beat you. But there is something in this match that you shouldn't trust."

Nathan holds up his two fists.

"Don't put all of your trust in your fists. You boast about the good they have done for you. But then you mention the bad, and how they fail you. But not for long, you say?

How long does it take two broken wrists to heal, Waylon?

Don't bullshit with me, Waylon, by telling me all you'll need is your fists. You know how ignorant that sounds, so just back off with that. Before I break the only things that will take you victory.

Wait, forget that last statement. I can't break everything that leads you to victory.

Sarah Twilight isn't in this match.

You say your fists guided you to a victory over me, but we all know that is a lie. Your fists aren't red-headed and fucking ugly. But Sarah Twilight is. Sarah Twilight was the reason you won Hellemination. So, to go further. It can't be your victory last week, or even your fists, that will allow you to "beat" me again this week.

Sarah Twilight is your key to victory this week against me.

And guess what? You have no Sarah Twilight.

Therefore, theoretically, you're going to lose, bitch.

But I'm not a man of theories. I like reality. But, in this case, reality is no different than theory. You say you're going to keep swinging, Waylon? Just keep swinging, just keep swinging, right? By all means swing. You can swing for two weeks and it wouldn't help you. You won't beat me this week, not matter how hard you try.

So just keep swinging until there is nothing left to hit, Waylon. And then you'll realize where I am at.

And then the Straight Jacket Drop will end you.

Not your life, because your life is worthless to me.

No, I'm just going to end your time in the WCF Classic."

Nathan watches the camera, shaking his head.

"Waylon, what I did to Nightmare matters little to you. Don't step up now and start fighting battles for Phantasm.

He has Jeff Purse for that.

Waylon, you need to just sit your ass down and keep your nose out of conflicts that aren't yours. If you're so interested in this, where were you when I kidnapped Nightmare. Where were you when I branded her in the middle of the ring? Where were you when I humiliated her in the middle of the cage last week?

No where to be found.

This has never been your fight, Waylon. Not then, and not know. You just wanted to sound tough, telling these fans that you're going to avenge Polar. But you can't, because you allowed everything that happened to Nightmare. You were at Slam when I kidnapped Nightmare. You were at GEW, backstage, when I branded Nightmare. You were in the cage when I put my slimy tongue on her face.

And you did nothing then.

How are you going to do anything now.

But make me pay anyway, Waylon. Play God, and play the devil. I'm just going to be Nathan.

And a sadistic psychopath beats a fucking retard playing dress-up."

Nathan smirks.

"Waylon is ready?

Ready to lose?

Confidence and fear do not mix, Waylon, and yet you're making a fucking cocktail out of the two. You talk about how other men have trained you. Gein Spector was just another man, not NvL. Oblivion is the Devil's son, but he isn't NvL. Synn is crazy, but he isn't NvL. Waylon, all you've done is tested the waters of different crazies.

You've only faced a true man that compared to NvL one time.

And you needed help to put him down.

You've had your ass beat by sadistic people before? I'm just another sadistic person? I can throw myself into the midst.

Alright.

I'll just be another sadistic asshole that kicked your ass.

But don't worry.

Waylon Cash is ready for it."

Nathan holds his hands up, gesturing to the entire setting. And most importantly, he is gesturing to himself.

"I chuckled a little at your interviewer's mention of your television title reign. But I didn't truly laugh. Until I heard your answer.

Do you honestly think you put Seth in a position where he couldn't maneuver out of?

Bitch, please! If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even be in the Main Event.

Seth could've put you against Johnny Stylez or Tek in the mid-card, and he would've settled his whole problem right there? But Seth knows me. He knows I wanted a piece of you. So he booked us against each other. And, as I've proven lately, the Main Event is my spot. So he put us in the Main Event this week. He wasn't noticing you.

He was accommodating my beat down of Waylon Cash.

Waylon, you can still be ignored. Your television title reign, all two weeks of it, didn't earn you recognition in this company. You entry in the WCF Classic didn't make you easier to remember in this company. People have noticed you because of your questionable win this past week.

And once the questions have been answered, you can once again be ignored.

Seth doesn't give a damn, Waylon, and neither do it. You might be a hard worker. A team player too. But when you want to fight solo, we're going to put you with the rest of the average fighters

In the mid-card.

So enjoy the spotlight this week. Its going to be on you all night.

When you enter the ring.

When you get your ass kicked by me.

When I stand over your body after the match.

And then the lights will go off for the night.

They'll turn back on me for next week.

But you?

You'll be stuck in the darkness for a long time."

Nathan hops off the stage, moving closer to the camera.

"WCF Universe, don't listen to Waylon. Watch Slam. Watch one of the most brutal and bloody matches in a long time.

Dake Ken is going to break FPV in two.

And then stick around for the Main Event, where you watch me casually walk out there and beat Waylon. I don't need blood, I don't need broken bones, I don't need death. I have Waylon Cash , without friends or support. Just good old Waylon.

The two-week wonder.

Waylon, everything you have done this year means nothing. All you can do it go out there and swing. And once you're done, I'll finish you off. I don't need to kill you, Waylon.

If killing you was the only to beat you.

You would've been dead a long time ago."

The scene fades out