Post by Deleted on Sept 26, 2013 23:09:02 GMT -5
War is not just the engagement of battle ... War is death, agony, misery and pain. War is suffering and despair. War is both wicked and evil. War is murderous and unkind. War is treacherous and unyielding. War is spiteful and war is coy. War is as difficult as it is easy. Vengeful and unforgetting, arrogant and powerful. War exemplifies all of the things in which it takes to defeat your adversaries. It is not for the weak ... but only for those who are strong enough to endure all the tribulation that it will plague you with from this moment ... until any other. WAR is the sweet taste of victory ... My victory.
WCF Headquarters - Reading, Pennsylvania
The Office of Sarah Twilight
Monday, September 23rd, 2013 - 3:17PM
A corporate setting such as the main offices of Wrestling Championship Federation is not exactly the type of place that you would ever envision someone as callous and uncaring as Sarah Twilight to be spending any part of her day. In fact, the entire roster is still reeling and riddled with disbelief by the fact that she is now ... the boss. The entire concept just didn't sound right ... not by any stretch of the imagination. So of course, to see her leaning back in a large, black leather chair, her navy blue denim jean covered legs kicked up onto the large dual oak desk that sat in front of her, and her black Nike sneakers complete with purple swoosh and trim dangling freely over the edge ... just seemed so out of place. The gorgeous redhead relaxed and literally on top of the world with the receiver end of a telephone clutched to her ear in one hand, and her other hand holding a silver ball point pen which she keeps loosely between her thumb and forefinger as she taps her fingernails along the large calendar that takes up much of the space on the branched out portion of the desk. Her silver pentacle charm that rests just over her purple v cut tee shirt glistens brightly under a few rays of sunlight that capture it as they find their way through a few openings in the blinds. The office that once belonged to Seth Lerch, Jonny Fly and even Eric Price was now outfitted for Sarah's own comfort. Along the wall to her right, her duplicates of the WCF World Championship and Television Championship ... as well as one half of the WCF Tag Championships ... from her first run. Each of them complete with a gold name plate and engraved with her name.
To her left is a large platform that stands against the wall, resembling the winner's stand commonly seen at the Olympic games. The platform stands about four feet high and appears like a staircase, with uneven steps on both sides. It is here that replica trophies from the WCF Classic, as well as the Trios Cup are arranged neatly. At the very top of the platform ... Sarah's own victory for the 2012 WCF Classic is displayed prominently. Beside this platform is a large enclosed cabinet with a glass facade that holds within it, one figurine for every WCF Wrestler who has ever competed for the company. There are rows and rows of these figurines within the cabinet and fill up almost the entire cabinet. Standing in front of the cabinet is Sarah's youngest sister, Angie ... staring at the rows of action figures with awe and amazement at the collection. Every other corner of the room is littered with stacks of cardboard boxes. Most of them full with various items, indicating that either she was moving things in ... or out. Sarah continues with her phone call as her young sister is left to her own devices and opens the cabinet, taking a few of the figures from it. Everything is relatively calm and quite as what you would probably expect for a typical Monday afternoon in Reading, Pennsylvania. However, this was NOT a typical Monday afternoon ... this is the Monday before WAR. And this was a WAR that Sarah Twilight intended to win ...
Sarah: Yeah, we're going to be leaving soon. I cannot WAIT to get out of this shithole town. I'll see you in Jersey when I drop her off alright? I have to be in Phoenix early.
As she continues her conversation there is a knock at the door. Sarah briefly looks up from her desk, and decides to ignore it. Instead, she just carries on with her phone call.
Sarah: Rachel, she's fine ... I'm not competing until Sunday. This is all boring office shit.
Another knock ... this one louder. Sarah again looks toward the door, annoyed.
Sarah: UGH ... I have to go. I'll call you back.
She hangs up the telephone and pulls her feet down from the desk, as if the knock had disturbed her so much so that ... she broke herself out of her own comfort.
Sarah: The fucking door is open.
She calls out, still pretty angered by the interruption. Slowly the door creeps open and a small framed woman with dark hair pokes her head into the room. She seems very meek and almost as if she is afraid to speak. Sarah tilts her head, narrowing her eyes a bit with a slight look of confusion upon her face.
Woman: I .. I'm sorry Miss Twilight. I don't mean to bother you but ... Mr. Lerch and another gentleman are here to see you.
Sarah remains with a puzzled expression. She folds her hands in front of her on the desk and leans forward, rather unimpressed with the woman.
Sarah: Who the fuck are you?
The woman is obviously already intimidated, and Sarah's rude response certainly didn't help matters. She attempts to respond ... her tone is soft and uses all intent to mollify the bitterness of Sarah's demeanor toward her.
Woman: I ...I'm Cassie ... your secretary.
Sarah blinks a few times and leans back into her chair, shaking her head.
Sarah: Whatever, just tell Seth to get his ass in here.
Cassie nods and smiles, more than willing to do her job. The last thing she had wanted to do is disturb the boss. Just as she begins to pull the door shut to go inform Seth that Sarah was ready for him, the contemptuous redhead stops her as she calls out.
Sarah: Oh, and Cathy?
Cassie had wanted to correct her, because Cathy was not her name ... but after the initial introduction had gone so sour, she not dare say a word about it. She simply pokes her head back inside and furrows a brow, questioningly awaiting further instruction.
Sarah: I don't have the need for a secretary ... or anyone to inform me that someone wants to see me. If they cannot knock themselves ... fuck em'. Anyway ... you're fired.
Cassie looks absolutely horrified. Tears roll down her cheeks as she exits the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Angie giggles as she continues to rummage through all of the various action figures at the cabinet. Sarah leans back in her chair once again and kicks her feet back up onto the desk. She glances over at Angie with a slight smile.
Sarah: Having fun?
Angie nods her head vehemently, still mesmerized by all of the figurines.
Angie: This is ... so awesome. One day I am gonna have an action figure of me just like you do!
Sarah shakes her head, continuing to smile. Just then, there is another knock at the door right before Seth Lerch pokes his head in.
Seth: Hey, Sarah ... I've got great news!
Sarah looks less than impressed. She simply rolls her eyes and passively waves Seth into the room. The former WCF Owner steps inside, followed by another man who is in his early to mid forties, balding and with salt and peppered hair. He is dressed in a finely pressed suit and is carrying a manilla envelope with him. Sarah eyes him oddly as he and Seth shuffle in front of the chairs across from Sarah at the desk. The man offers his hand to Sarah. She looks down at it, and ignores him. Seth laughs a bit nervously, trying to lighten the fact that Sarah just dissed the man. Suddenly, Seth's eyes dart back to where Angie was fumbling with all of the figurines. He nearly loses his mind as he rushes over, grabbing them and trying to put them neatly back in the casing.
Seth: Don't touch those! Gah! It has taken me YEARS to set that up!
Sarah clears her throat particularly loudly. Seth looks back at her, and she doesn't seem anymore pleased. In fact, she seems more pissed.
Sarah: Did you just tell MY sister what to do, Seth?
Seth sighs and lowers his head a bit.
Seth: I didn't mean to, Sarah. But that collection is a reminder of this great company that I built. I have nowhere else to put it!
Sarah again rolls her eyes.
Sarah: I don't give a shit about your toys, Seth.
Angie: It's ok, Sarah. I'm done playing with them anyway. I'm going to go down to the cafeteria and get some food.
Sarah nods as Angie quickly exits the room. Seth's company seems to be growing impatient as the small series of bickering takes place. Seth makes his way back to his seat and tries to lighten the mood once again.
Seth: Soooo! Can we get to business?
Sarah's gaze shifts from the unknown gentleman to Seth. She looks less happy than she is puzzled by this.
Sarah: What business?
Seth: Well, I had let Eric know about this a month or so ago ... buuuuut since he isn't running the show anymore. Anyway, I forgot this meeting was today until ... today.
Sarah shakes her head and fires off a sharp tongue at Seth.
Sarah: Will you quit the rambling and just spit it the fuck out?!
Before Seth gets the chance, his guest takes the opportunity himself.
Man: My name is James Sanderson. I represent Comcast Cable. I've been in talks with Mr. Lerch and Mr. Price for quite some time now. After keeping a close eye on your product, we have decided that we want to make an offer to the WCF to carry your programming on an exclusive basis ...
He slides the manilla envelope toward Sarah. She passively glances down at it, and then looks back up at him.
James: I believe you'll find that the numbers are very generous. With your WAR event coming up, we feel this is an appropriate time to showcase your company at an entirely different level. If the numbers are to your liking, we'd like to begin immediately following your pay per view event.
Sarah listens on... passively. Seth is damn near jumping out of his seat with excitement. As James finishes up the opening to his pitch, Sarah takes the envelope in hand and slides it right back to him.
Sarah: Not interested.
Seth almost comes out of his own skin.
Seth: WHAT?! Sarah why? This is a GREAT opportunity!
James holds his hand out to calm Seth as he continues with his pitch.
James: Miss Twilight ... I can understand that this was just dumped in your lap, and that you haven't had time to let everything settle in. But I just want to let you know that this is a very lucrative offer that is going to make your company as well as mine ... a LOT of money. We are talking about exclusive programming ... your own network broadcast. Really get the faces of your company recognized in a greater capacity than just one weekly televised event.
Sarah folds her arms, still shaking her head.
Sarah: I don't care. I said I am not interested.
James: Miss Twilight --
Sarah: I have MADE my decision ... now get the FUCK ... out of my office!
James looks rather insulted as he swipes his envelop off of the table and leaves the room in a huff. Seth looks completely shocked and disappointed as he rises from his seat and starts after James in an attempt to smooth things over. However, he doesn't get a finger on the doorknob before he is stopped in his tracks.
Sarah: Oh no ... you stay, Seth.
Seth turns back around and lets out a large exhale of breath. He scratches his head as he makes his way back toward his seat ... looking at Sarah VERY questioningly.
Seth: Sarah ... why? That was probably the greatest offer we've ever had! How could you turn it down?
Sarah's eyes are cold and piercing as they fall back upon Seth. She plants her hands firmly on the desk and stands up.
Sarah: Because this roster does NOT deserve that. This entire organization of YOUR failures and disappointments ...
Sarah pauses mid-sentence as she reaches down, pulling open one of the drawers to the desk. She reaches down into the drawer with both hands and removes a rather LARGE stack of papers, dropping them down on the desk with a THUD. Seth jumps back in his seat a bit.
Sarah: Do you see all of this?
She plants a finger atop the stack of papers, pressing her fingernail into the sheets.
Sarah: THIS is what ten years of disappointment looks like. This is what happens when you are SOFT ... when you allow a bunch of insignificant WASTES to walk all over you.
She shakes her head in disgust.
Sarah: I have been going over nothing but paperwork for the last WEEK and all I have come across are all the sad excuses for wrestlers that we have. Roster fillers! That is ALL they are, and yet you've kept nearly every one of them. You've gathered a collection of worthless garbage that you just couldn't ever let go of. And you expect to peddle THAT as some major event? WAR is nothing more than a glorified train wreck, Seth. A bunch of fluffy filler disguised and packaged as competitors who actually have an 'opportunity' thrown into the ring with the FEW who are actually capable of competing.
Seth decides at this point that he must interject. He shakes his head vehemently.
Seth: WAR is unpredictable! Anyone can win, that's not just a catchy hook, it is the truth. WAR is one of the greatest matches that we have here in --
Sarah completely ignores him and cuts him off.
Sarah: WAR is placing a bunch of pathetic sheep into the slaughterhouse with a hungry wolf! Why don't you tell it like it is, Seth? Why don't you grow a set of fucking BALLS and tell people how it REALLY is? That's the difference between us ... the difference between Eric and I. You all just want to pacify everyone and sugar coat their existence as if they had a chance in hell of accomplishing anything around here. I tell it like it is, Seth. I always have and that is why ninety percent of the roster cannot STAND me. Because I won't placate them. I give everyone the truth ... whether they like to hear the harsh realities or not. When you look around ... there is not a single member of this roster who can say that. Not one! I may rip the flesh from someone's bone ... torture them with a misery like they have never endured in their lifetime ... but regardless of that, every last word that comes out of my mouth has been the truth. The unwanted truth that everyone on the roster tries to ignore ... until that inevitable time comes where they have to stand across from me inside of that ring and they know. They know deep inside that no matter how much they want to deny it ... when that bell rings, they are going to be exposed for everything that I have said that they are.
She rifles through the papers on her desk. She carelessly flops them down with a scowl upon her face. The papers slide over the surface of the desk, some of them sailing slowly to the floor as they pass the edge of the wood.
Sarah: I look at this MESS that you've created ... and all I see is a man that surrounded himself with failure for ten years ... and you seemed to enjoy it. Now, you're going to stand here in my face and try and tell me that you've somehow convinced yourself that throwing all of this CRAP in a ring with me is competition? I don't give a shit what you want to tell yourself, the fact of the matter is you have everyone else ... and then you have ME. There is no comparison to be made, there is no competition to be had. Every last one of these pieces of paper represent another one of the many disappointments that make up your existence, Seth. And I am going to eliminate each and every last one of them.
Seth shrugs a bit and lets out a small chuckle.
Seth: I know you're confident, Sarah. I don't blame you. But there are going to be quite a few heavy hitters in that match. This is literally the who's who of WAR! I don't think you'll find it as easy to win as you claim it will be.
Sarah glares at Seth with blatant disapproval for his comments. Seth however, is not going to back off of his statement. The WAR match was shaping up to be the best one yet, and he would keep that train of thought despite Sarah's bluster.
Sarah: That is the problem ... you DON'T think! You still believe that a good majority of the shit we call an active roster is still relevant.
Again Sarah looks down at the stack of papers on her desk that have been haphazardly strewn about during her earlier episode of anger and disgust.
Sarah: Do you even realize how this fucking roster looks? If I took all of these contracts and separated them by who actually has any worth around her ... do you know what we'd get?
Seth stumbles for an answer ... though he didn't exactly need one. Sarah was perfectly ready to show him exactly what she was talking about as she starts gathering some of the papers together.
Sarah: You have more than half a roster who --
She pauses as something catches her eye. She immediately drops the papers she had collected and makes her way from around the desk. Seth turns in his chair to see what the hell she was doing now as she walks around to the large platform containing the various tournament trophies. She tosses trophy after trophy aside, discarding them carelessly as she begins clearing each step of the platform. The only trophy which she handles with care is the one that displays her own name. She reaches passed Seth and carefully sets that one down on her desk. Seth quirks a brow.
Seth: What the hell are you doing?! That's WCF History!
Sarah: Shut the fuck up!
She continues the task at hand, now collecting on the empty cardboard boxes from against the wall. She opens the glass door to the cabinet containing the figurines and in long swoops of her arm she begins dumping all of the action figures into the cardboard box. Seth is losing his mind, about to tear out his own hair as he jumps up.
Seth: Hey! HEY! CAREFUL! Do you even KNOW how long I've been collecting those?!
Sarah dumps the last of the figures into the box and turns back to Seth with an almost murderous intent in her eyes.
Sarah: SIT DOWN!
Seth jumps back a little bit and slowly settles back into his seat. Sarah begins picking out various action figures from the box. She is knealt down in front of the platform stands as she begins speaking to Seth once again, never bothering to turn around and face him. She was focused on her current task at the moment.
Sarah: When I look at the WCF roster ... it can be split into various levels. The level of competition each person is capable of ... the level of worth they bring to the company overall, and the level at which they are going to peak.
She points at the lowest step of the platform as she continues to set aside figurines in front of the box.
Sarah: The problem that WCF has always had is that ... MOST of the roster is down here. We'll call this ... Level One. This is where almost ... ALMOST everyone who has ever stepped foot in this company begins. Thing is ... not many of them ever leave that spot. They just linger, taking up space. For most of them, it seems they are just complacent being worthless. They show up ... do not much of anything and go home. No one cares a damn thing about any of them, and that seems to be "OK" because somehow they still have a job.
She takes the first set of figurines and sets them on the bottom step. They range from a Scotsman in a kilt, a Luchadore in a mask, another Mexican wearing a bandana and resembling a gang member, a man with long blonde hair and a trench coat, another man with various tattoos, a short haircut and a well trimmed goatee. Also among the group of action figures is a man with a mohawk, also tattooed ... and a man wearing a brown fur robe and viking's crown. Sarah sets them all on the platform and looks oddly at the lot of them.
Sarah: I don't ... even know who the fuck these are supposed to be?
Seth glances over and a sense of pride comes over him as of course he knew who all of the taent was. He made sure to collect a figurine for every competitor past and present. He happily informs Sarah as to who the lot of action figures was representing.
Seth: Well Sarah, those are a bunch of new hires. Cormack MacNeill, Eli the Kid, Jason Xavier, Jayden Thuder, Ryan Rhodes, Johnny Towers and Jon Michaels. Jeez Sarah, don't you even know who you employ?
Sarah shakes her head passively and shrugs.
Sarah: I don't care. ANYHOW ... being as I don't know who any of those people even are, all I am going to say is that if I did care, I'd feel sorry for them. They have all been here a short time ... well except this guy.
She points at the figurine of Eli the Kid.
Sarah: I'm pretty sure he's been taking up space for a bit longer a time than the rest of them and yet ... I still have no idea who he is. Nor do I give a fuck. At the end of the day, the only thing they all have in common is the fact that they chose the WRONG time to try and break through around here. One of two of them might actually move up a step after a while, but the sad reality is that most of them are going to remain right where they are. The fact that they will even BE in WAR is probably the biggest accomplishment they may ever lay claim to. I don't know a damn thing about any of them, and I really don't care to. When they have shown SOME kind of worth around here, maybe ... MAYBE they'll catch my attention. But it isn't going to happen at WAR. So ... moving on.
The next figurine she removes from the box is of Havok. She laughs at this one and tosses it aside.
Sarah: Spiderman figures ... really Seth?
Seth: That's actually Havok. He debuted about a month or so ago.
Sarah shakes her head and laughs, now collecting the discarded figure and adding it to the bottom step of the platform.
Sarah: Well then, we can just toss him in as another guy who has been taking up space for a while and I still don't give a fuck about. Seriously, the only thing different about this idiot is that he looks like something out of Marvel Comics.
The next action figure to come out of the box is a replica of Tyler Walker. Sarah smirks heavily as she places the figurine with the others at level one.
Sarah: And this is what happens when a Gorilla fucks a Camel! You end up with some retarded walking dick with ears who looks like he was rejected as an additional member to the cast of Jersey Shore. Annnd of course, this would mean that Seth Lerch absolutely loves having him taking up space on the roster and dumbing everyone down each and every time he opens his fucking mouth. Seriously, Seth ... where the fuck do you get these assholes?
Seth simply shrugs. He watches carefully, hoping that Sarah doesn't damage any of the action figures. She continues to rummage through the cardboard box, removing yet another. This one is none other than Biohazard. Seth smiles a bit as she places this one on the level one platform.
Sarah: Another comic book reject ... seriously ... fucking seriously?
Seth: What?! Biohazard is awesome!
Sarah: Biohazard is a fucking sideshow! We seriously litter this entire roster with SHIT! This little bullshit that makes you chuckle and feel all warm and fuzzy inside is EXACTLY why WCF does not deserve more exposure. You and your Sesame Street pet projects ... seriously, who ... other than you gives a fuck about this guy? He's been here umpteen thousand different times and the only thing he has managed to accomplish each and every time is to SUCK worse than he did before.
Seth frowns at this, but as expected ... Sarah doesn't care. She is just growing more disgusted by the minute as she pulls more figures from the box. The next set of figures to come out are that of Matthew Robinson and Seifer Black Armstrong. Though she glances back at the figure of Biohazard and just shakes her head again.
Sarah: Fucking "Ooze to Faces" Sesame Street bullshit ...
A scowl contorts her lips once more.
Sarah: Anyhow ... these two. I don't know whether to be pissed off that we have even MORE disgraces that float around at the bottom of the barrel or just laugh at how absolutely pathetic they are.
Seth: You should laugh. A smile suits you much better.
Sarah turns and glares at him. Seth gives her the "why does EVERYTHING piss you off?" look.
Seth: I'm just saying!
Sarah continues to glare at him ... though eventually, she does manage to crack a smile. This comes as a bit of a surprise to Seth, who just leans back now.
Sarah: Actually, you're right ... with these two, all I can do is laugh. Every time I see either of them on screen I feel like I am watching Days of Our Lives. Who kidnapped my wife? Who is trying to murder my baby? My pregnant bitch wife got put in a match. You don't know how many babies we've lost. You are my best friend ... you stabbed me in the back. Now you want redemption. When is one going to lube up the ass of the other one? Who shot J.R.? Who will be Erica Kane's next husband? And who GIVES A FUCK?!
Seth shrugs a bit and tries to get more comfortable in the chair ... he doesn't seem to want to stay here much longer.
Seth: Uh, Sarah? Is this going to be like everyone cause ... I have other stuff to do.
Sarah stands up, placing her hands on her hips as she glares down at Seth yet again.
Sarah: Oh fuck no. You are going to sit there and you are going to listen. The shape that this company is in .... that all lies in your hands. This is ten years worth of you being a fucking doormat. Let's be honest, Seth ... the reason WCF is known for these huge clusterfucks of matches that take place OUTSIDE of WAR is because you honestly have had not a fucking clue to do with half of the roster during the time you were running shit. And in case you haven't noticed ... I am cleaning up your fucking mess. So while I do ... you will sit there and watch as the harsh realities are presented to you. This is my roster now ... a roster that completely sickens me.
Seth just stares at her with a blank look on his face. He didn't really have anything to say at this point. So he just rests his chin against his hand and prepares to watch the 'evaluation' of the WCF roster according to Sarah. Now that she once again has his attention, Sarah returns to the box of action figures, plucking another one from the contents. This particular one is Deuce Maximus. She immediately tosses the figurine onto the level one platform.
Sarah: And no one gives a shit about that guy. At BEST he's good for a few stand up comedian jokes that MIGHT get one guy somewhere in the twenty ninth row to giggle like a retard for half a second until he realizes that he too, didn't actually understand what was just said. Congratulations ... we have a comedian on our roster ... too bad this isn't the fucking Laugh Factory!
Back into the box and out comes ... Jack Happy. Sarah looks even more disgusted than before as she tosses his figurine onto the same pile with the rest. In fact, the step at level one doesn't even have much room left on it.
Sarah: And we go from a comedian to a fucking clown! What is this guy, a walking advertisement for Jack in the Box? Handing out ice cream cones and buying people cheap toasters does NOT win matches. All he seems to want to do is make people "happy", and that sickens me. I don't give a SHIT about making anyone happy ... I care about results. This guy is nothing more than a fucking mascot. He's not a wrestler ... he's not even an entertainer. He just flat out sucks.
Seth can't help but to chuckle slightly there. He continues to watch as Sarah removes figure after figure. Though the way she tosses some of them does scare him a little bit. He wants so badly to go and arrange them all properly, but that would have to wait until later. The next person up is the current Internet Champion, Jordan Caliban.
Sarah: Oh, this fucking twit. This one I can't even blame on you. This was all Eric. What better way to represent WCF on the internet than with someone who can't fucking spell! His blogs and tweets resemble something you'd expect out of a neanderthal. Then again, look at who we're talking about. The guy doesn't understand the difference between "your" and "you're" or the differences between "there", "their", and "they're." I suppose you couldn't POSSIBLY expect more from someone who wants to send people home in ambulances one minute ... and pat them on the back for a "great job" the next. He doesn't know whether he wants to cripple people and not give a fuck, or save all the starving children in the orphanage his mother left him at when he was conceived.
She tosses the figure onto the pile with the rest in disgust.
Sarah: His big 'claim to fame' is defeating Eric "Pissing his Pants" Price for a championship that absolutely NO ONE outside of twits like him gives a fuck about. Seriously speaking ... he probably is the best choice we have for the JOKE that is the Internet Champion. He has an IQ of forty, he sounds like a teenage fan-girl on the internet whenever someone disagrees with him ... and he has a knack for blogging about shit that not a single person on planet Earth gives a shit about. I honestly would not be surprised if one day, E.T. showed up in a fucking spaceship JUST to tell that guy to shut the fuck up.
Sarah rummages through the box some more and out comes a figurine of Adam Young.
Sarah: Oh for fuck's sake! The fact that he exists is reason enough to promote the sale of condoms. This guy has been here since the very first plank of wood was laid down to construct this building and he still sucks just as badly as he did on that day. If you dropped a nuclear bomb on the state of Texas all that would remain are cockroaches and Adam Young. The only difference I see between him and the rest of the retards that make up the bulk of what IS the disappointment of WCF is that Adam knows that he sucks ... and he's come to terms with it. He is never going to amount to a damn thing in this company, and he knows it. Yet for whatever reason, he keeps showing up.
Seth: Well, not going to call the kettle black or anything ... but you did give him and his group a raise.
Sarah: Fuck off, Seth. I have had to go through this pile of shit roster to fix all of the fuck ups that have been made over the years. Increasing annual salary for those fucks is the equivalent of my reaching into my pocket and handing you a hundred bucks. He is the type of guy that I could fire, and he'd still show up because he is too stupid to understand the concept. So, I gave him some extra cash in the hopes that he'd get himself shitfaced drunk or something and forget to show up. Except that Adam hasn't yet figured out that he should just go home and do ... whatever the fuck it is that stupid Texans do.
The Adam Young action figure is put onto the pile with the rest. Sarah reaches into the box again and when she pulls out the next action figure, she smirks very heavily and begins chuckling to herself.
Sarah: Tek ... Tek, Tek, Tek. Now this is almost a joy to me. You know ... out of everyone ... EVERYONE in the entire WAR match, Tek has the most experience?
Seth looks a bit confused by that statement and cannot help but to respond.
Seth: Uh, Sarah ...
She continues speaking ... ignoring the interruption.
Sarah: He has without a doubt THE MOST experience at standing in a front of a camera each and every week to repeat the same fucking thing he did the week before. I mean ... this should be it ... I can't fucking wait! What is he possibly going to say?! What will he possibly do? Which backdrop will he stand in front of next? Wait ... I know! Maybe he'll change his nickname .... or his clothes. No, No! He'll stand in the back JUST before he is set to be announced into the match, he'll hand his 1994 mix tape to someone in the production truck and he will come out to the most bad ass theme he has ever walked his sorry ass to the ring with! Because I'm telling you .... the sheer magnitude of a new look, a new nickname and walking out to the ring to "Backstreet's Back" will send a quivering fear into the hearts of every last person out there! If it hasn't worked for the entirety of your career ... might as well give it YET another try, right?
She shrugs and places the Tek figurine along with the others on the very bottom step. Once again she begins searching through the box. Action figure after action figure are moved to one side of the box or the other. Eventually, Sarah places her hands on her thighs and just stares down into the box.
Sarah: Hrrmmph.
Seth leans forward in his chair, curious as to why she was having trouble selecting another figurine.
Seth: What are you looking for?
Sarah turns around to look at Seth casually.
Sarah: No Doc Henry toy, huh?
Seth shakes his head and slumps his shoulders a bit.
Seth: Nope. They never produced one.
Sarah cackles with a sense of wicked enjoyment at that revelation.
Sarah: Well that's appropriate. Doc Henry is as excluded from life as he is from your toy collection. He is THE prime example of what happens when you become complacent with failure. I can't even call it mediocrity when it comes to him ... because he is FAR below the measuring stick on almost every level conceivable. And yet he is ... just here. He's watched on year after year as rookies walk in here and move up ... meanwhile, he continues to wallow at the very bottom. I suppose he believes that being a member of the roster for a century somehow equates to talent ... of which he has none. Doc Henry is like that guy who sits at the very last bar stool in his neighborhood pub for twenty five years ... no one notices him, no one gives a fuck. Times change, the crowds change and despite him not belonging there any longer, he just refuses to leave. Everything going on around him is far beyond his scope of understanding so he develops tunnel vision and merely sees what he wants to see. Everyone else around him knows he sucks, but he doesn't know it. Or maybe he does and is just in denial, who knows? Who cares? Enough time wasted on him.
Sarah digs her hands into the box again and shuffles a few things around. She glances up at the platform and notices that the bottom step in completely full with action figures. A sly smirk forms across her face as she lightly laughs to herself. She drops the few figures she had in her hands and glances back toward Seth.
Sarah: Would you look at that. That right there is about HALF of the active roster ... and we haven't even gotten to level two! This is how PATHETIC the WAR match really is. The truth hurts. Whether people like to admit it or not, I am the BEST thing that could have possibly happened to this company. I have no qualms with making sure that the heap of trash stays right where it belongs. And ... from where I sit, it happens to now be my JOB because OTHER people were so fucking incompetent in allowing this disaster to happen in the first place.
Sarah turns back to the box. She stares at it for a long time as her thoughts swirl wildly in her mind. The disdain and disgust she held for each member of the roster pounded like drums inside of her head. The inadequate drove of useless carcasses that had been left under her charge served only as a reminder of her own preeminence to them. With each figurine that was emptied from the box, another drop of seething hatred festered in the caverns of her very being. For over a decade she has sacrificed and bled, suffered and endured every obstacle thrown in her path. Before her in this dusty cardboard box sat the representation of every undeserving parasite who had sought a glamorous existence without having left their own blood, sweat and tears as reparation. It is for that reason that she eliminated rules from contests fought under her watch. It is because of each of them, that she would deny immediate medical care in most instances. The exorbitant praise laid upon these sycophants was just cause to nullify the People's Championship. For the most prodigious parasite of them all were the people themselves. At some point, the history looks would look back and realize that a great justice was done to transform professional wrestling and lift it from the bowels of mediocrity. To whom would that distinction fall upon? Sarah. As days come to pass and she would dispatch each and every member of the roster to capture her second WCF World Championship ... they would have no choice but to grovel at her feet, admitting that she alone was the pillar that determined this company's success. Sarah. Thoughts continue to race through her mind as she suddenly realizes that her spoken name was not coming from the innermost consciousness of her brain. But rather, her name was being called outside of her distant entrancement.
Seth: Sarah?
She rotates her head slightly to the side, catching glimpse of Seth in her peripheral vision. Irritated at the intrusion of her thoughts, she scowls at him, now having forgotten the contents of the box and the evaluation that she had been presenting. She responds coldly.
Sarah: What?!
Seth scratches his head. He certainly had no issue with leaving her be and offers up that option in response to her indignant temperament.
Seth: So, uh ... I can come back later? Yeaaah, know what? I'll just leave you alone for now.
The momentary lapse had by now dissipated. She turns to completely face him now.
Sarah: We are finished when I say we're finished. Now shut your mouth and we'll continue.
Seth sighs a bit, not wanting to be here listening to all of this. To top it off, Sarah had taken HER lapse in thought and turned it around to blame him. He frowns some more knowing that this was going to be a very long afternoon. Sarah turns her attention back to the box, but pauses before grabbing another figurine from it.
Sarah: So, where were we ... oh yes, the levels of SUCK that we have as a roster.
She points a finger to the opposite side of the platform where the next step up rests. It is just slightly higher than the first step of the platform.
Sarah: This would be level two of the WCF roster. This is where people who suck slightly less than the complete wastes of space at level one reside. They've managed to move just past the Doc Henry's and Adam Young's of the world ... but in reality, that is HARDLY an accomplishment. I believe we have cameramen who are more capable in a ring than either of those two. This level of WCF is a glass ceiling for some, and a final settling point for those who's careers have peaked somewhere at a higher level and then fizzled out. Much like their counterparts below them on the food chain, they are complacent with coasting by ... stuck in "limbo" where they will never do much of anything. By all accounts this SHOULD be the starting point on our roster ... it's just that we have so many people who suck so TERRIBLY that this actually has to be a step up from that.
Seth listens on as Sarah now reaches back into the box to remove another action figure. She places the figurine on the second step and smirks. The likeness of this action figure is that of Odin Balfore.
Sarah: Odin ... Mr. Ragnarök himself. When I think of him, I think of a group of retarded teenagers playing Dungeons and Dragons in their mother's basement somewhere, complete with Funyuns, Root Beer and Cheetos. Odin is the classic example of someone who's career has already peaked as high as it will ever get and he is relegated to swimming along as a bottom feeder. The only problem with that is ... Odin's career had peaked and fallen into the shitter LONG before he got here. Despite that fact, he was once considered a 'top contender' around here ... I wonder how that is?
She looks back at Seth and shakes her head.
Sarah: Though I suppose in whatever twisted, backwards series of events that occurred at a time when I THANKFULLY wasn't around to witness ... Odin as a major contender makes sense. I mean, Odin was huge back when ... well when someone like Doc Henry would have been considered by YOU to fall somewhere at level three. Buuuut, some people never learn I guess. Here we are in 2013, and you dragged Odin's ass out of the retirement home along with dipshits like Skyler Striker and what happened? I smacked the shit out of them and sent them back down the line where they belong! And now ... what is he calling himself "The Thickness?"
Sarah presses a finger to her lips and ponders for a moment.
Sarah: You know, that actually works well for him. Someone with THAT thick of a skull as to actually believe he is, or was ever relevant around here deserves to fall where his chips land. They've landed him near the bottom of the shit pile. My biggest prediction for Odin Balfore at WAR? He breaks forty two bones, rips three ligaments and develops a severe case of Alzheimer's and believes with all of his heart that he is living in 1992. It will be a toss up on whether or not he suffers a stroke during the match ... whatever.
She moves along, rifling back through the box. The lump of plastic figurines is growing somewhat smaller now. However, with the number of wrestlers there are from the past ... there are still quite a few action figures to be sorted through. The next figure she pulls from the box is a plastic replica of Oblivion. She sets this action figure right next to Odin Balfore on the second step of the platform.
Sarah: Oblivion ... the "Monster" of the WCF. Each and every time I have stepped into the ring with Oblivion ... he has been shown what a monster really is. His 'once great' career has been hollowed from the inside out and all that remains are his distant memories of a time when people feared him. The facade he once carried as being an indestructible force has been long forgotten and he wades in the murky waters of despair ... searching for a purpose. He hasn't quite figured out that his time has passed ... so he just keeps looking for that one thing to bring him success once again. The harsh reality is that it's never going to happen. He seeks to bring about carnage and destruction through a linear path that is palpable and garners attention. True carnage is caused at the passive level. It begins as a small planted seed and grows beneath the surface ... eliciting a misery and a sorrow that is far too extensive for any mortal being to endure. By the time the evils of this festering boil have surfaced to consume their quarry ... it is too late. This is exactly what has happened to Oblivion's career. He has spent a lifetime attempting to cement himself as savage behemoth ... all the while the very appetite with which he sought to satisfy his palate has torn him apart from the inside. His own yearning has been his demise. Oblivion is the frail, outside frame that remains of an evil that no longer exists.
She shakes her head in an obvious disappointment.
Sarah: That ... is the definition of pathetic.
She reaches back into the box, hardly even interested at this point as she yanks another plastic replica from it. This one being of the recently returned Lilith. Sarah simply tosses it onto the step and begins rummaging through the box some more. Though the entire time she feels the awkward look that Seth is now giving her. Finally she stops picking through the box and turns back toward Seth with a questioning eye. Seth simply shrugs in the chair and states the obvious.
Seth: I guess I just didn't expect that you'd skip any. I don't know?
Sarah rolls her eyes a bit, aggravated.
Sarah: What do you want me to say here? You want me to evaluate THAT? All I remember out of that stupid bitch is that she liked to sit around having tea time with Teddy Bears that she stole out of Ana Valentine's closet. It's like you're asking me to evaluate an eleven year old girl who is trying to emulate someone who counts. Which one of the hundred varieties of Lilith will we end up with today? The walking dead? Maybe a demon from hell? What kind of an impact are they actually going to have around here? Am I supposed to jump for fucking joy because she shows up here a week before WAR and tosses around some fucking CLOWN? No ... just no. I don't give a shit about Lilith, or her tea parties, or her attempts at auditioning for the lead role in Girl Interrupted. When it comes down to it, she is a VERY poor excuse for a watered down, MUCH less attractive ... never-will-be version of me. Now, I am moving along to the next reject ... alright?
She pulls another figurine from the box and sets it down alongside the others on step two of the platform. This one peaks Seth's interest being as it is an action figure of Lionheart. Considering this was whom Sarah had recently enlisted to demolish Eric Price a few weeks ago ... his low placement on the roster scale is somewhat surprising to Seth. Sarah turns back toward him with a grin, realizing the choice to place Lionheart at level two was something that required an answer.
Sarah: Do you think that because I allowed a rookie to humiliate that utter disgrace Eric Price, that I view him as something more than what he really is? Lionheart is simply big and stupid. His entire purpose in life is to somehow manage to wake up in the morning. So long as he does that on a daily basis, he can say he accomplished something. The truth of the matter is that I could have had almost ANYONE stand in his place. If he actually believes that because I allowed him the PRIVILEGE of caving in Eric's chest this means that he matters, he is SADLY mistaken. On the same night that he achieved his fifteen minutes of fame by tackling an ALREADY beaten man ... I dropped him on his retarded fucking head and pinned his shoulders to the mat. I might have actually done him a favor and jarred loose some of the braincells that he hasn't used in about fifteen years. All in all, that stupid oaf believes he accomplished something ... or that he matters. He does not. He is just another name on the long list of failures that I happen to employ.
Seth doesn't have anything to say, and as Sarah turns back to the box to grab another action figure, Seth digs into his pocket for his phone. He idly begins to play with the apps on the phone with the sound turned off while Sarah continues the display. Menawhile, Sarah places the likeness of John Barber on the step beside the others.
Sarah: John Barber ... a useless bush league upstart who somehow managed to find that ONE handle from the depths of the shit that wallows at the very bottom of our industry. Though he dangles just above it precariously and is destined to fall right back down the slope at any moment. He is like a lost puppy looking for somewhere to call home ... and by the nature of his own being, he finds himself drawn to mediocrity alongside people who are just as insignificant as he is. Truth is, he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he ever found himself residing among the upper echelon of this business. He doesn't belong and he knows it. This is why he has been comtent with defending the Television Championship against the scrapings of sludge that make up the bottom layer of the barrel. And it is for that reason that his precious tin scrap was taken from him. He does not deserve to call himself a champion ... and he does not deserve to have his name called out in the same night as my own.
Seth is semi-paying attention and eeks out a few "Mmhmms" and "Hrrms" as he continues to shuffle through the apps on his phone. Sarah grabs another poorly replicated action figure out of the box. The takes a long look at this one and laughs, placing it there on the second step. This particular likeness is of The Masked Man. Sarah shakes her head quite a bit as she continues to chuckle at the fact that a "Masked Man" replica toy had even been produced.
Sarah: How many times in the history of professional wrestling have we had some 'unknown' force donning a mask swoop into an arena and garner all kinds of attention simply by the mystique of who might possibly be hidden beneath the cloak of disguise? It has happened far more times than I wish to recount ... and here we are in midst of yet ANOTHER mystery that has yet to be solved. Intriguing? Hardly. How many times can be recalled where the revelation of who lurked beneath the mask was cause for excitement? There are not many. This instance shall be no different. For the better part of a YEAR this fucking idiot has run around here with his messages and his attacks. In fact, throughout this entire time ... I don't think he has known what the fuck he was doing. Pantheon, and the waste of my time that was Genesis ... whatever the fuck that other group was called ...ANYWAY, he spent his time jumping people backstage and now ... now all of the sudden he is the purveyor of justice? I do somehow recall that during the time that I was carrying those Genesis rejects ... the sheep in the stands adored each one of us ... they adored Pantheon. And yet I am to believe that the months and months of this individual showing up at random have anything to do with anything?
She shakes her head passively and cracks another smile.
Sarah: All that this does is lend further credence to what I have known all along; The Masked Man is nothing more than a delusional waste of space who has attempted to insert himself into anything and everything that has struck a chord here in WCF. This is his attempt at gaining relevance because the lack of interest that would be generated had he removed his mask and revealed to the world that he was an insignificant stain who no one gives a shit about would have sent him flopping back to the shadows from whence he came. He expects anyone to believe that a year ... a fucking YEAR worth of this shit was all leading up to this moment? That somehow NOW he has some point to prove? Does he honestly believe that declaring that you will win WAR to carry about some deluded notion of change is going to cut it? No .. let me tell you what actually happened. Month after month after month came and went. Every moment, every turn he thought; "Hey, maybe today is the day!" But then, he remembered that no one gives a shit so he'd hold off for another week. This process has repeated for nearly EIGHT months now ... and when it comes right down to it, it will not matter WHO is behind that ridiculous mask because let's face it ... there is not an individual on this roster past or present outside of myself that holds the type of paramount needed to justify the wait. So why don't we lay the cards on the table here? The masked man chose WAR to make his "triumphant" FLOP of a return not because he will be revered or because there will be some grand revelation that causes the masses to gasp in amazement. No, he chose WAR to return so that his very lackluster reemergence would CONTINUE to be masked as the failure that it is, simply by coddling it among the damn near fifty other fucking people that will be out there!
Seth looks up from his phone apps for a moment as Sarah continues to rant on the individual known as the masked man. He can't blame her too much ... after this many months of his antics, not much else but a disappointment could really be expected.
Sarah: All that I see, even in this plastic mold is a coward. Someone who does not have an ounce of the dignity and pride that it takes to succeed here. He wants to dwell within the darkened shades of corners as he shouts to all the inequity that he feels unjust. The only war that wages within his heart is the question of whether or not even WAR is the right time for him to unmask. Should his reappearance on this night fail ... what will he do? He will return to the sidelines as a spectator ... shouting his grievances and yet ... continuing to wallow in the reality he has created for himself. The reality that his only significance was earned through the period when no one knew his identity. And that his unmasking shall also be the undoing of the moment in time he has spent under the shattered spotlight of his existence.
Sarah looks at the figure for a good deal of time longer before she picks it up, removing it from the platform step and she tosses it to the other side of the room. The figurine lands unceremoniously into a waste paper basket near the corner. Seth jumps up from his app at the point, seeing as one of his collectibles had just been tossed away into the trash.
Seth: HEY!
Sarah doesn't notice Seth's dismay at this point. Her thoughts have consumed her regarding this roster wide evaluation. She continues speaking.
Sarah: A pussy like that has no place on my roster at ANY level.
She immediately moves past any further notion of the masked man and grabs the next action figure from the confines of the box. This one being Frank Patrick Venable. Seth rushes over to the trashcan, bringing it back with him to collect the discarded toy.
Sarah: FPV ... good ole' Frank. Here is a man who has never managed to figure out just where he wants to be. He's had some success ... MAYBE he could have had even more success, but we'll never really know because the chapter of his career has been closed. He finds himself more suited at being a follower than a leader. This was evident when I dragged his dead weight in Genesis. How quickly did everyone forget that Frank founded that group? No one cared because he wasn't someone who was important enough, or strong enough to be viewed as a leader. When people looked at that group ... they saw me as it's centerpiece. They saw me as the one who was calling the shots and Frank melted away into obscurity while happily accepting his place within the shadow of my own success. It really doesn't surprise me ... I mean this guy has been riding the coattails of more factions than I can even name at this point. He went from being a lackey in his own creation to ... puckering up to the Polar Phantasm and whatever fucking delusions he was peddling. Though, to Frank's credit ... I mean, if I were in his shoes, I'd find it much easier to pretend to me G.I. Joe and live that facade rather than the reality that he is a shitty wrestler who happened to fall into a few very forgettable successes.
Sarah places the FPV toy on the stand at the second step and offers the small action figure a very sarcastic salute, military style. She now begins speaking to the figurine directly ... mostly out of sarcasm and perhaps just to have a bit of her own enjoyment with this tedious task of evaluation.
Sarah: But hey, here's to you Frank. If living a permanent acid trip allows you to somehow manage to function and cling to your small little space of mediocrity, more power to you. Go battle some intergalactic robots and build us a talking computer. Hey, maybe dig a tunnel to the depths of Hell and tell us all about it. I would be very interested to hear more of your Gulliver's Travels right after I finish kicking your ass all over Phoenix. Ta-ta!
Sarah tilts her head as she surveys the second platform step. Meanwhile, Seth is rubbing some dirt off of the masked man figurine that had just come out of the trash container.
Sarah: Well, looks like we've stepped up to level three. But ... don't get yourself too excited, Seth. This is the area of the roster that we call ... the mid card. People who have found themselves some success and manage to remain just above the cesspool of filth that flows beneath them. These are people who, when they manage to achieve something, they wander around aimlessly without a fucking clue as to what to do next. They seem to look at their minor successes as gifts and hold their hands out for more. They wait ... and they wait for that next step up, HOPING to push their way out of the middle of the herd. And as they stand there with that blank, stupified look on their face ... wondering why they haven't managed to go anywhere in life, they remain blinded to the reality that no one is going to HAND them anything. These are the type of people that live by the philosophy that a small amount of effort somehow should reap a large amount of reward. When the dust settles ... this is the best they are ever going to get, and they just don't know it.
Sarah sends her hand diving back into the box as she prepares to pull the first action figure to be set at the level three position. The first likeness to come out of the box deserving of this placement is Waylon Cash. She places him on the right hand side of the platform, the next step up from the level one position on that side of the double sided 'staircase.' Though this step sits at a higher position than the level two step that serves as the base for the left side of the platform.
Sarah: Waylon Cash is the poster child for what a mid carder exemplifies. He's been given chance after chance after chance with so many various opportunities. Yet, he manages to fuck them all up. He'll be the first to scream and pout about how fucking great he is ... despite him doing absolutely NOTHING of significance during his entire time here. He'll let anyone who will listen know that he was once WCF World Champion ... who even remembers that? If you had sneezed you would have missed the entire thing. Waylon's short lived success is nothing more than an accident that everyone wishes they could just erase. But he'll remind you about it as if it was really something to brag about. "I was world champ for two whole weeks." He truly believes in that coked up hick brain of his that his little blip of being a flash in the pan matters. As if somehow he ever has a chance of moving forward. The most notable credit to his career was being carried in a tag team by Steve Orbit. Thing is ... he KNEW he was being carried and that he brought absolutely NOTHING to the table. So he severed his ties with Orbit and fluttered around doing nothing until one day ... the guy that lets Waylon bang his sister says "Hey, I have an idea!" And ooooh look out, we put a group of second rate retards together and beat up ring equipment. Everybody had better take notice!
Sarah smirks heavily with a small short lived laughter at this.
Sarah: The only thing more pathetic than the career of Waylon Cash ... is the fact that he actually believes he has a career to begin with. If it was really that simple ... everyone around here would count if just ONE person whispered in their ear and told them that they were awesome. I am starting to believe that Scott Savage is nothing more than a figment of Waylon's imagination that lets him cope with the fact that he completely sucks. With all of the outside substances that he puts into his body ... there is probably a cloud of it over us at all times. I mean we're all probably on that trip by now. One day I swear someone is going to walk into the Men's room during one of our shows and find Waylon beating the shit out of himself with anything that isn't tied down. It definitely makes sense ... Waylon Cash invented Scott Savage in order to have someone other than himself to blame for all of his failures. That's just Waylon's way of doing things ... don't take any responsibility for the fact that you are terrible at this. Just whine and bitch and tell the world that someone else told you that you could make it. In the end, who the fuck cares? Waylon wins the award for who can cry and moan the loudest ... that isn't going to get him anywhere at WAR. He might as well snort a few lines and not bother showing up that fucking delusional twit!
At this point, Sarah dumps the cardboard box over onto the floor as action figures scatter everywhere in front of her. Seth almost loses his shit as he scans the littered cluster of plastic men and women to make sure that none of them had been broken. Sarah grabs one of them from the now expanded pile along the floor. The one she settles on is Steeltoe Joe. This one gains a great deal of interest from Seth being as Joe was one of their own stablemates in Bravado.
Sarah: Joe, unfortunately is just another one of those people who is never going to claw his way past the midcard. He has done everything that he can think of to stand out ... and there just isn't any hope. He spent the bulk of his time here carting Tek around as if somehow his mediocrity would rub off on Tek's worthlessness. To his credit, Joe finally decided to dump the dead weight and he longed for his ascention into greatness. The only problem there is that ... that train pulled into the "The Buck Stops Here For You" station at the corner of Purgatory and Limbo. All the prayers in the world couldn't help this fucking guy make it.
Seth doesn't seem too pleased at Sarah's analysis of someone who is supposed to be her stablemate. He crosses his arms and shakes his head quite a bit.
Sarah: The major problem with Joe is that he has been looking for the expressway to stardom by way of anything and everything other than himself. He thought that praising and kissing the ass of Eric Price as if Eric was his new God was going to earn him his meal ticket. And the moment that flavor of the week was no longer the wagon for him to hitch his wheels ... he moved along. Now he wallows around under my thumb looking to be fed the scraps that are left over. Hoping for recognition and that FINALLY his star will shine. Don't get me wrong, he's had his successes. That run as People's champion is without question one of the most impressive. But, when it comes down to it ... that's all he's going to be remembered as. To have his name associated with the sheep that poison every aspect of this industry with their desires and their hopes ... is just pathetic. Though I do suppose that Joe was comfortable in such a position as being the shepherd leading his mindless flock.
She lowers her head a bit as if she actually had some sort of pity toward Joe. Though any notion of that quickly passes as she reaches down to the floor and grabs hold of another figure. This one her very own tag team partner; Jonathan Jakobs. She sighs heavily as she places his figurine alongside Joe's at the level three step.
Sarah: I don't know what elese I can tell you about Jonathan Jakobs. Just about every last thing I mentioned regarding Joe ... applies here as well. Jakobs looks for any opportunity he can find ... that is not based on his own merit. The fact that he is even relevent at all right now is because of me. He looks upon his success as his own, when in reality nothing about his minor successes are attributed to him. What exactly has he accomplished here? He stood BEHIND Eric Price whilst they were the Benefactors and rode that train as long as he could. But, Eric wasn't capable of pulling Jakobs along while still trying to dig himself out of the hole of obscurity he was in at the same time. Now, Jakobs stands BEHIND me holding a piece of tin that I could care fucking less about. He can have them both ... and of course, he'd lose them the very first time he stepped into the ring WITHOUT having the greatest professional wrestler the world has ever seen there to pick up the slack for him. Jonathan Jakobs is at the point in his career where it is the best it is ever going to get. There is nothing more for him ... so he can enjoy this final week of riding along in the passenger's seat of my success. Because after I walk out of WAR as the World Champion ... I am not going to have any interest in carrying him along any longer.
Seth only grows more uncomfortable listening to all of this. He squirms around in the chair over and over as if he would find a more comfortable position. But the reality was, he wasn't enjoying any of this at all. No amount of movement was going to change the direction of where this all was leading. Sarah plucks two more figurines off of the floor, setting them there on the level three platform. These depict both Night Rider and Denise D'Evil.
Sarah: And we're back to the 1980's again. You know, a good part of me wants to take Night Rider and place him down at level one ... because based on his in ring ability and the fact that he is yet another JOKE who has been here forever and has done nothing worth mentioning at all, he belongs there. However, the only reason he finds himself floating the mid cards instead of the shit scraped off of my shoe ... is because he was intelligent enough to find someone with more taLent than he has and find a way to break through from the bowels of curtain jerker Hell. Any remote bit of relevance Night Rider has seen in past months is due to Denise D'Evil. This is nothing new at all ... rookies walk in here and find themselves climbing the ladder while the evolutionary defunct amoeba remain settled in filth. I wonder sometimes how it must feel to be passed along constantly? To realize that things will never get any better for you at all. Night Rider must have felt this and he latched on to the first ticket he could get hold of and clung for dear life to be pulled out of the abyss. Denise? Despite the fact that she believes she is some kind of immortal being ... she had potential. The key word of course is HAD. Denise could have possibly ... not likely ... but possibly ascended up a rank or two among this pitiful roster. Instead, she chose to listen to the harping of a useless mold of flesh who somehow convinced her that he was her ticket to stardom ... rather than the other way around. Alone, Denise might have achieved something ... but dragging along a boulder behind her in the form of Night Rider has sealed her fate. She is as far up the ladder as she is ever going to get. Night Rider was sure to cut the rungs above her current position to ensure she would remain stagnant alongside of him. Misery loves company, and Denise can only be judged by the company she keeps.
Seth lets out a yawn as he squirms a little more in his chair. This entire evaluation process was taking quite a bit of time. Sarah, however was relentlessly carrying on with the task at hand. To look over the entire WCF roster and see each and every one of them for what they are was consuming her. Seth couldn't see it as she was facing away from him, but she was nearly frothing at the mouth as the way a Lion would lick its lips as it sat in the brush, stalking a herd of Gazelle. With an iniquitous satisfaction she lays out her index finger to motion the left of the platform once more. This, the fourth box up from the very bottom. Her tone very mellow now ... gone was the anger and disdain caused by her overall thought of the roster in its entirety. It seemed as though the more she spoke of the opposition, the more confident that she grew. Each new figurine just another carcass to be laid at her feet. Her words are tapered with an impetuous spite such as she has long enjoyed.
Sarah: As we continue to wander through the shallow existence of the mid card, we find the next set of disappointments to hover just above those we'd just mentioned. This is level four of the WCF roster. These individuals either have the potential to possibly work their way up ... but so far they have not. Or they are individuals, who at one time were of more stature ... but have faded off into this existence. Perhaps they were at one time talented ... and that manages to keep them afloat, but for how long? Some of those who reside here will never see a better day. This level of our roster ... is a crossroads. Where the past and the present intersect. Where determinations of new success are made ... and the flames of careers that once were bright settle to flicker out and die.
She reaches down onto the floor and grabs hold of another pair of caricatures from the strewn out pile. These are of John Gable and Benjamin Atreyu. She sets them on the fourth step up on the platform. She never once looks back at Seth, who is idly pressing away at buttons on his phone once again, contorted in his seat in a rather unusual fashion just to try and gain some comfort for the long journey through this action figure adventure.
Sarah: John Gable could legitimately be a contender around here. That is, if he stopped allowing Waylon Cash to drain the life from him. For a man who is so well informed on the art of motion picture production ... at almost every aspect, he fell for the pitch. The pitch that Waylon Cash and his imaginary Puff the magic dragon friend Scott Savage fed to him. He was played like a fiddle and he doesn't even know it yet. He spends his time mixing it up with Cheetahs and sideshows, when he could be on his way to a permanent main event position. His own ignorance is what has extinguished any spark of hope he may have had. He chooses to blindly follow the lead of a man who has been able to produce nothing more than a kaleidoscope of fairy tales. Gable hangs onto every word as if through the mediocrity of his partners, he may somehow break free and rise to the occasion. That is never going to happen for him because he has allowed his final casting call to pass him by. There are many others willing to take the part ... and they line up to grasp hold of the opportunities he has allowed to slip between his fingers. The most pitiful aspect of all of this ... he doesn't even realize that it's happened. He holds out hope that his blockbuster hit is just a few more auditions away. In all actuality, Waylon Cash has taken each of those opportunities for himself ... and he wasted them. Gable is left to settle in the dust of a career that could have been ... and is not. Much like his failed attempts at finding himself on the Silver Screen, he has failed at finding himself a place of his own on this roster.
Sarah shakes her head for a brief moment. But she is not one to have sympathy for the failings of others so she moves right along to the final remaining member of S-PAC.
Sarah: This leaves us with Benjamin Atreyu ... another decent wrestler. Though he lacks the intelligence and fortitude to make anything of himself. He has barked on about change, and has carried on about reviving the profession. Now, he takes on the cause of whatever babbling bullshit that is fed to him. Atreyu have shown spurts of success ... and a desire to reach the mountaintop ... but when he fails to achieve what he desires, he throws in the towel. He suffered defeat during the WCF Classic at my hands ... and he walked away in sorrow. History repeated itself for him as he left the finals of the Trilogy Cup with agonizing defeat. Each and every time that he works his way to the top and shouts that inner voice "Hey, I'm here!" ... he only ends up short. He has all the tools needed to make something of himself ... but he lacks that one factor that could separate him from much of the rest. He lacks a true desire. He places forth the effort to get himself but so far ... and then he surrenders. Perhaps the idea of actual success is far too much for him to handle? Perhaps he knows that he can only attain so much before there is nowhere left for him to climb? He will never be at a level to consistently headline ... and so he knows that if he should ever possibly manage to come about victorious in one of the many tournaments he's entered .... that would be the end of the line for him. So he fails himself time and time again so that he may always have that one achievement to look forward to. Each time he fails, what does he do? He turns to go home and sit in his armchair for a few months, only to come back and try again once the memories of his failure have vanished from his innermost thoughts. And of course he just repeats the same process over and over ... and over. Pathetic.
Seth: Are we close to being done? Because ... I don't know how much more I can listen to.
Sarah turns and smiles ... almost appearing genuine. She nods her head at Seth.
Sarah: Oh, am I taking up too much of you're precious time? Sure. You can just run along to go watch Arrested Development or something.
Seth immediately hops up out of the seat with a premature sense of relief now.
Seth: Great! Thanks ... I mean it was uh ... fun. I think ...
Sarah stands up and the smile is wiped from her face. Her eyes narrow and she takes a step toward Seth.
Sarah: I believe we've gone over this, Lerch. This will continue until I let you know that it is finished. Understood?
Seth falls back into his seat and practically wants to blow his brains out at this point. He voices his disapproval of continuing.
Seth: I don't want to go over the roster. I know who's on the roster. You're going to win WAR ... I get it. You're the only one who matters and yadda yadda. Okay?
Sarah: I don't give a shit what YOU want to do. We are doing this MY way. And we're going to continue until it is complete.
She swipes her hand down at the floor now and grabs whatever action figure she manages to take hold of. She doesn't even bother looking to see who the replica was of as she tosses it toward the others on the fourth step. Here eyes still trained on Seth ... insulted by his whining. Finally she turns back toward his display to realize the action figure she'd just placed was Logan. Her eyes glimmer mischievously and a smirk curls on her lip.
Sarah: Oh isn't this cute now ...
She passively glances back at Seth who is tapping his foot against the floor, sunk down in the chair. He shakes his head at her.
Seth: Sorry, I don't agree with you there. Logan has won three WARS .. in fact every third WAR. And this one being WAR Twelve ... yeah, uh ... I don't agree with you.
Sarah: I really don't give a shit if you agree with me or not. You are a pale skinned NOTHING who doesn't know the difference in talent between Doc Henry and Slickie T. Your opinion means absolutely SHIT right now. Logan is --
Sarah pauses momentarily as something catches her eye. She looks down at the strewn pile of figures and starts moving a few of them aside as she notices one in particular. She reaches down ... in a furious anger and snatches it from the floor.
Sarah: What.the.FUCK.is.THIS?!
She holds the plastic doll up in her hand and shakes it in Seth's face with pure disgust. The figurine is an edition of Logan during the time where he believed he WAS Sarah. By the look on her face, the fact that a "Sarah Twilight" action figure was ever even considered to be produced is enough to make her want to vomit.
Seth: I ... well ... don't blame me! I didn't make it!
Sarah takes the figure in both of her hands and SNAPS it in two. She violently throws the broken toy into the trash container. Seth nearly has a heart attack.
Seth: Hey! I spent thirty five bucks for that on ebay!
She ignores his complaints and protests. She grits her teeth and breathes rather heavily amidst the seething anger that was beginning to boil over inside of her.
Sarah: I do not give a FUCK how many times Logan has won WAR. I don't give a shit how many times he has taken part in one. When you look back upon the unproductive history of this company it has turned out nothing in any past form worth mentioning today. At one time, Logan may have been the cream of the crop among the worms that you mis-packaged as talent. A time when talking about penises and shoving hotdogs in someone's ear for a cheap pop may have been enough to capture the attention of everyone within earshot. His deluded psyche and sick perversions may have been cause for celebration during those days. In fact, that was probably the best you had back then. How completely abhorring that the BEST you had to offer for your rinky dink shithole promotion was dick jokes and boudle bots.
She clenches her fists tightly, still looking forward at the display.
Sarah: I am going to take your foundation ... the very best of what is the shell of your past ... and I am going to crush him along with the rest. In one single night, everything that you have valued over these last ten years ... everything that you placed all of your stock into is going to be beaten beyond any form of recognition. Your face of treachery ... your golden boy ... your shining light of what you considered to be prosperity lives under the shadow of the greatest wrestler to ever lace up a pair of boots. Logan does not understand the concept of what a war ... a true war really is. He doesn't understand that they begin long before any shell casings have been expelled, long before any blood has been shed. A war begins as a single thought ... a single act of hatred that's purpose is only to fester and grow until it no longer can be contained. Logan is involved in a war that he does not even know that he is a part of. It is a war that he cannot win. A war that will leave him defeated on the battlefield ... his carcass ripe for the vultures. This war is a war that surpasses any WAR with which he has ever taken part. Logan is battling the war inside of himself that will rage on until he can no longer stand on his own two feet. His conscious thought and his subconscious cravings colliding at every waking moment of his insanity. In the end, Logan will lose this war ... the war that will ultimately lead him to realize that ... he can never be me. And as that realization washes over him ... and his eyes grow pale and his jaw unhinges to remain agape with awe, as his heart sinks and every aspiration within each fiber of his being have evaporated from him ... I will be there to drive the final nail into the coffin of his pathetic existence. I shall rip out his very soul and allow him to watch as it is cleaved from his carcass. In those final moments, Logan will understand what war truly is. And it will be too late for him.
She turns away from the display with a final burst of disgust for the man who laid his claim to the moniker "Mr. WCF." Her long red hair whips around in the instance that she turns away. By now, Seth had gathered some krazy glue from the desk drawer and was attempting to piece his thirty five dollar figurine back together. Sarah closes her eyes momentarily to remove the last hints of her animosity before proceeding onto the next. After a moment, those sparkling emerald take in the colors, shapes and sizes of the room once again, and she reaches down for another figurine. This one being Gravedigger. With the last of her enmity exhausted, she smirks as she looks upon the newest quarry to her evaluation.
Sarah: It would seem as though we are taking a trip down memory lane for you now, aren't we Seth? Gravedigger ... another one of those "WCF Legends." A man who has endured some of the most arduous battles in this company's history and yet ... where does he find himself now? You know, in truth I don't believe he knows. I mean, he's spent the last year or so with his lips firmly puckered up against Eric Price's ass cheeks. But where has that gotten him? Now, Eric is scrambling around, coping with the reality that he has always been a nobody ... and where does that leave Gravedigger? Perhaps he'll find his lips planted against my ass for the next year or so? No ... that isn't quite right. He has to maintain his dignity you know? I mean, how could he possibly change his opinion of me after spending so much time playing as a cheerleader for Eric? Oh ... I had almost forgot, he already has. Gravedigger will jump on any bandwagon that will keep his name mentioned by anyone. The fact that he enjoys these silly little diatribes between Doc Henry and Adam Young tell where he SHOULD be spending his time dwelling. But I suppose that he has another year or so with which he can rest on the laurels of his past success. And on that account, I will not deny his tenure. The man has had success here. But, there is that annoying little key word again that "Legends" don't like to hear, HAD. The real question is, what have you done for me lately? The answer to question is simple ... nothing.
Sarah sighs heavily as she shakes her head ... it almost appears to be in a sympathetic manner.
Sarah: For the record ... I don't mind Gravedigger. He and I ... along with a fucked up retarded munchkin formed a damn near unstoppable team last year for the Trios Cup. I have worked with Gravedigger on numerous occasions and he steps up to the plate every so often. I can credit him that much. What we don't want to see ... yet which is the current stretch for him, is for him to overstay his usefulness. Eventually there is going to come a time ... which will be much sooner than later, where those laurels he rests comfortably on now ... are no longer going to carry him. Right now, he sits above a great deal of the WCF Roster ... far from the position of his former years, but respectable enough for a career that in on its last legs. If he continues to allow his stubbornness to push him ... he is going to end up being remembered among the likes of those Doc Henry's and Adam Young's we have mentioned ... instead of being remembered as a Hall of Famer. So, when it comes down to it ... I am just going to have to put the old man out of his misery. It is about time he understood that he no longer belongs here in any type of competitive capacity.
Seth is shaking his head with disgust of his own at how Sarah regards the legends of the company that he once owned. The company he had built from the ground up. He grumbles a bit and it is clear that he is growing unhappier by the minute. Sarah takes an almost euphoric pleasure in selecting the next figurine from the dwindling pile. This one is none other than Eric Price.
Sarah: Kinda funny isn't it? How he is reinstated just before WAR. How he has that one final "hoorah!" to make everything about him?
She glances back at Seth for a brief moment ... a very callous gaze from her emerald eyes.
Sarah: I know that I am arrogant ... but fucking hell! I have never seen someone so insecure as to attempt to center the focus of every aspect of this company around himself. Not ... that I don't understand why he did it. He's average at best and it was only going to be a matter of time before everyone had forgotten him anyhow. I mean honestly ... if Jonny Fly hadn't decided to throw in the towel and sell him the company ... no one would even remember who the fuck he is today. Each and every week he harped on about respect, and about fairness and whatever other bullshit he could spout. Thing in, he didn't have the BALLS to do a fucking thing about any of it himself. It may have been called "Eric Price Pro Wrestling" but he sure as hell wasn't in charge of anything. What kind of man actually believes he deserves ANYONE'S respect when he pisses himself on live television? What kind of a man believes he deserves respect when he is incapable of fighting ANY of his own battles? I know the first thing that will be said ... Bravado assaulted him like rabid animals. The difference here is ... I am MORE than capable of handling things on my own. Eric, he was shown the door in the same way that he was introduced to it. He has been nothing but dead weight and a hindrance to every aspect of this business.
Seth: Did we really have to demolish him like that? I don't see how it was necessary.
Sarah: WE did nothing ... I grew tired of Eric's stupidity. I grew tired of his bitching and his whining. Everything that he had ... everything that he had become was due to me and me alone. The existence of his success was because I ALLOWED IT! Without me ... Eric Price would have remained somewhere lost in the mixture of bodies with Jonathan Jakobs. He can declare his love for me ... tell me that I broke his heart, that I used him. I don't care. The fact is, emotion ... feeling ... caring ... all of that has no place in this business whatsoever. Those are the type of thoughts and the type of actions that create weakness. Eric Price is weak ... and he always was. He sought power through wealth and grew accustomed to having anything that he wanted on a whim. All he has had to do was purchase anything his heart desired. True power is amassed by force. I have TAKEN what I have wanted, I have TAKEN where I saw fit and I have set an example that echoes throughout every last hall and corridor backstage at every event. Sarah Twilight answers to no one. Eric Price was blinded by the WEAKNESS of his emotions and he saw me in the way that he WANTED to see me. I have no remorse for what I did. I simply eliminated the weak that hampered progression.
She chuckles a bit now as a thought enters her mind.
Sarah: And how fitting that his final act of incompetence was to end up being the very first person who I will DECIMATE on Sunday! He will be the very first person to stand across the ring from me ... his blood will boil, and his heart will sink into his chest. He will have the rage of a thousand evils swirling around inside of him and he is going to unleash all of his emotion in an attempt to seek his revenge. And that is where he will fail. His blind furry will be his own undoing because where he has regret ... I have none. Where he has doubt ... I have none. Where he has the stinging pain of rejection and his fire of passion for the "love" he held for me ... I care nothing of him. He seeks vengeance ... I seek result. He looks for justice, I look to taste his misery. He believes that he must use every ounce of his being to defeat me ... for his own closure. I know that I will defeat him because he is inferior to me. Where he sees his new found strength in all of the bottled aggression and bitterness that he feels toward me, I see only more of his weaknesses with which to exploit. For him ... this is personal. For me? It is business. Eric Price enjoyed his moment for much longer than he should have. I allowed that to happen ... and I have taken it away just as quickly. Now, he can just settle in amongst the rest and understand his place.
She sets Eric's figurine in its 'place' on the fourth step. She smirks quite heavily as she turns away from the display. Seth arches up in his seat ... perhaps this was it? Maybe it was finally over. Unfortunately for him ... it was not. Sarah rises completely to her feet now and looks down among the cluttered mess of toys that remains.
Sarah: Well ... this next one is the fun part, Seth! The one I am quite certain you'll enjoy.
Seth: Uhm ... okay?
Sarah: The next portion of out company wide evaluation is let's guess who will show up to try and capture some past glory? The individuals who THINK they are just going to walk into WAR out of the blue and take away the win. I call this Level X simply because ... well no one knows, do they Seth? Honestly ... for the most part, no one gives a shit either.
Sarah grabs hold of the seat that James Sanderson had earlier sat in next to Seth and she slides it over beside the trash can. Sarah takes a seat in the chair and again rifles through the remaining toys. She grabs hold of several replica likenesses one after another. Synn, Vengeance, Kale Windsor, Hunter Valentyne, Trey Reed, Kaylyn James Evans, Matty Tapes, Tyler Derden, Izabella, Jason Kash, Wyatt Nolan, Mickey Page and several others. One by one she throws them into the trash container. Seth is scrambling to retrieve each one of them as she does.
Sarah: That is a bunch of "No one gives a fuck" if they show up for WAR.
She continues to dump several action figures into the trash. Occasionally she stops to offers some insightful comments on a few other the past athletes. She pulls the figurine of someone very familiar looking to Seth and possibly one of the oldest of the toys in his collection. She dangles it in front of him jokingly.
Sarah: Oh look! It's Mace, your first ever World Champion and the man who won the first WAR ... maybe he'll show up? If he wins ... he can give the championship away!
She laughs, before tossing the action figure into the trash behind the others.
Sarah: Probably not a good idea, huh Seth?
Seth is grumbling under his breath as he continues to take action figures from the trashcan. Sarah latches onto another figure and shows it to Seth.
Sarah: What about Dake Ken? Oh .. wait, he returned last year didn't he? How'd that one work out?
She cackles, tossing it into the trash. She takes hold of a pair of figures now and dangles them in the air.
Sarah: Oh! It's the Superfans ...annnnnnd NOPE!
Into the trash can they go. More figures are discarded into the trash as she plucks through each of the remaining caricatures. She comes across one that causes the mischievous sparkle in her eye to return. A redheaded figurine of a woman ... Seth instantly recognizes the likeness as Anastasia Petrova. He reaches out to snatch the toy away from Sarah, but instead she pulls it away and laughs.
Sarah: You like this one, huh? I bet you do!
She continues to cackle as she seems to enjoy tormenting Seth with this one.
Sarah: That's too bad, Seth. Just some redhead that isn't me ... and nobody gives a shit about.
She flings it into the trash. Seth dives in after this one faster than any of the others. He pulls it from the trash and places it on the seat next to him to ensure that Sarah didn't get her hands on the figure again. He looks visibly upset at this point. Sarah just continues to go through the toys.
Sarah: Oh, would you look at this!
She holds out another figuring toward Seth. This one is a dual set of figurines ... well sort of.
Sarah: It's the missing Doc Henry action figure! And he's being Burning Hammered by Corey Black. Well .. at least it's accurate.
She tosses that figure to the side as well. The next one comes up and she tilts her head to the side for a moment.
Sarah: Jay Price. You know, the only thing that saves Jay Price from being the most pitiful World Champion in history ... is Waylon Cash? And coincidentally ... the only thing that saves Waylon Cash from being the largest gloat on mediocre accomplishment ... is Jay Price. I wonder what would happen if Jay ever actually put the bottle down for a day? He's wake up from his coma like, alcohol induced stupor and realize that he has to live with himself. Jay Price remains drunk for the same reason as most people. The reality of his life is too much to swallow. It would probably drive him to his death to know that he is truly that unimportant. He attaches himself to anyone who will give him the time of day JUST so that he can feel like he belongs. When that method of garnering approval failed him, he resorted to talking to himself. I suppose it's better than being alone? Jay Price is basically the butt of the joke in the locker rooms of WCF ... but he will never know, or comprehend that. So long as he can mask the pains of failure with alcohol, why should he? It is far easier for Jay Price to wander around in a comatose state and exist as average than it is for him to deal with being Jay Price.
She shrugs and tosses the figure aside, grabbing another. She swivels her lips to the side with a "Hrrm."
Sarah: Roy Speede? See Jay Price ... minus being completely wasted all of the time. Roy is too STUPID to understand that he isn't wanted let alone that he sucks. Roy is one of those guys that looks for ANY hint of recognition and he blows it the fuck out of the water. You could say "Hello" to Roy Speede and he'd come to the conclusion that you absolutely adored him. He is that guy that everyone knows for the wrong reasons ... and no one wants to admit that they do. Talk about the company that you keep? Roy Speede is a fucking disease ... and he's probably proud of it. He knows everything there is to know about nothing and will ramble on about it ... just for the sake of rambling. Plain and simple fact, Roy has NO talent and he never will. He's more like a circus clown ... except that when he does stupid shit, people aren't laughing with him, they're laughing AT him. Maybe he could rendezvous with Kaylyn James Evans in the "You disappeared and no one noticed" category. Fuck Roy Speede ... that fucking boudle.
The Roy Speede toy is tossed aside. With only a few selections remaining now, she pulls the next one from the diminished pile.
Sarah: Steve Orbit. The guy is a decent wrestler ... have never denied that. He is probably the most likely of the "X Level" competitors to show his face at WAR. The problem with Orbit is that he doesn't have this business as one of his priorities ... at least not where it should be. When things don't go how he had wanted them to ... he heads back to his bitches and booze. He feels as though he is king when he is in his element. Wrestling ... is not his element. So he'll sit back at the beach sipping Mai Tais and soaking up the sun ... living the life. But anyone who has ever stepped foot in the ring will tell you ... it doesn't take long for that itch to start creeping up again. It's probably why people at the bottom of the barrel just won't leave ... and it is why Steve Orbit will find his way back into the ring, sooner than later. Am I bitter about what happened at Ultimate Showdown? Not in the slightest. I do NOT like to walk away from a fight on the losing end ... and I do NOT like Steve Orbit. In fact, I really can't stand the fucker, but at Ultimate Showdown ... he did get my respect. He took advantage of an opportunity ... something that I myself would have done. He saw an opening and he took it. For that ... well I can respect that. However, that only means that I have adapted myself to the situation.
She nods her head a few times as she considers another confrontation between the two of them.
Sarah: I am not looking for a wrestling match with Steve ... I am looking for a FIGHT. I am looking to rip him limb from limb and leave him broken and battered at my feet. I do not seek to do this out of revenge ... but out of purpose. I will leave no question in his mind ... no inkling of doubt that I am superior to him and every last member of this roster. I will maim him so decisively, that he will understand what kind of a predator that I am. Steve Orbit is man ... a man whom has another life to escape to each and every time he faces the shortcomings of this business. I do not have the need for alternate lives ... I thrive here and I will continue to thrive long after someone like Steve Orbit is gone. This is my purpose and stepping into that ring is like walking into my own personal playground. I've allowed Steve Orbit to share it once ... but not again.
Sarah stands up for a moment after going over the possible "X Factors" for this year's WAR. She takes a deep breath, now growing tired of the evaluations in her own right. But we have nearly reached the end ... and she would not stop until she had. Just like on Sunday, she will not stop until every last competitor is dispatched, and she is the only one left standing. Sarah walks to the display platform and places her finger on the fifth step ... it is the closest one to the very top step. She turns back to Seth who is still gathering up his discarded toys and she smirks.
Sarah: Level Five .... these are your "heavy hitters", Seth. I think the evaluation here is pretty simple. They can get things done in the ring ... a good deal of the time. But when it comes down to it ... they each still fall short of being the very best that this company has to offer. Now, I'm sure you'll differ with me on these because ... well I don't fucking care why. Anyhow, here are your personal favorites.
She picks up one of the remaining figurines and sets it on the platform. It is the depiction of the current WCF World Champion Nathan von Liebert.
Sarah: Nathan, by all accounts falls somewhere along the lines of a level three ... or four at best. Though he enjoys this position solely based on the fact that he is the current World Heavyweight Champion. Nathan von Liebert is everything BUT a champion. A fighter? Sure. A brawler? Absolutely. A wrestler? Hardly. A champion? Not a fucking chance. The last we saw of Nathan before he vanished into obscurity was him having his shoulder pinned to the mat by Doc Henry ... Doc fucking Henry! That is disgraceful. And finally ... finally he finds himself at the top of the mountain ... and what have we heard from him? Not a fucking thing. Nathan is sitting in his hotel room right now, scared out of his fucking mind about walking into WAR. For as big a bad ass as he pretends to be ... there lies nothing more than a coward inside. He is not a beast, he is only a man ... a man who sees the last moments of his life flashing before him. He too will fall at my hands just like he has on the previous occasions we have met inside of the ring. Nate would like nothing more than to distance himself from this brutal contest ... I embrace it. He is unaware of how to survive in this situation .. whereas I thrive in it. The opportunity that has been given to Nathan is something far beyond anything he is capable of. To walk into WAR as the World Champion and leave victorious is something that is only attainable by the very best that this profession has to offer. Nathan von Liebert is NOT that person. In the end, he may take solace in the fact that it shall be my arm raised in victory ... just as it has each and every time before during our encounters. He'll just have to deal with the cold, hard facts that he isn't cut from the same mold.
Seth: Uh ... I think his chances are pretty good actually.
Sarah: And at what point during this conversation did I care about what you think?
Seth sighs and shrugs, shaking his head in the chair.
Sarah: Nathan von Liebert fell into a moment. It is a moment that will outshine him because he isn't ready. This isn't one of his battles with someone who cannot defend themselves. He doesn't have an advantage here. This is WAR ... and in war ... everything is fair. I don't care if I have to put him ... and the forty something other people that are going to stand in my way into the fucking GROUND! If that is what I have to do ... that is what I WILL do. Nathan? He talks about everything that I actually DO. Now its time to step up to the plate and he is going to strike out just like everybody else. I hold no alliances or allegiances to him or to anyone else. This is MY moment ... Nathan stands in my way and for that he will suffer just the same as anyone else.
Abruptly, Sarah abandons any further mention of Nathan and grabs one of the VERY few remaining toys on the floor. She places it on the platform beside Nathan's. This figurine ... is Jonny Fly.
Sarah: Jonny Fly ... the one person with whom I have competed which I have never defeated. Even the "great" Jonny Fly has his flaws ... and the crust that has kept them hidden for so long have begun to crumble around him for quite some time now. Everyone assumes that Jonny Fly will again rise to the occasion ... and that it's a done deal. They assume WRONG. This isn't Jonny Fly's dance ... it's mine.
Seth: If you say so.
Sarah laughs at the comment and brushes Seth off completely.
Sarah: Fly is not the same man who made you drool all over yourself in awe last year. He has been on a downward spiral ... while I have continued to move forward. The man has gone from World Champion ... to beating the shit out of your scrawny ass in the ring. And he's coasted along with his quips and his quirks, flashing a smile as he continues to tell himself that he is still "that guy." But he isn't. I recall the times when everyone would sing the praises of his legacy ... "Jonny Fly would never surrender." " Jonny Fly would never throw in the towel." Well, Jonny Fly turned and WALKED AWAY because he knew that his time in the limelight was OVER! There was no more "Era of Fly." And he couldn't stand the thought of it. So he tucked his tail and walked out.
She turns away for a moment as she rests with her own thoughts. The is no hint of anger, nor resentment. Sarah Twilight is a vicious, sadistic woman full of hate ... but she is an intelligent competitor first.
Sarah: Fly is a competitor ... like I am. He is always going to remain above the shit that makes up the majority of this roster. That does not mean that he is the same man that I stood in the ring with last year. Nor am I the same woman. I will not make the same mistakes that I made in my third match with this company. I do not "underestimate" Jonny Fly. I understand that is is a capable competitor ... and I understand the lengths to which he will go in order to achieve victory. Where my advantage lies ... is that while I have tasted a defeat suffered at his hands ... he has not. He is going to be arrogant, much in the manner that I was last year. Everything inside of him is going to tell him that he is going to end up with that same result, and that is where he will fail. Jonny Fly underestimates me ... and therefore he is not prepared. He is looking to contend with the very same person he did over a year ago ... and that is NOT what he has awaiting him. I have waited for this entire time ... I have moved forward and I have achieved everything that I have set out to accomplish. The ONE thing that I have yet to conquer is Jonny Fly. And while that may appear to be a strength for him ... it is actually his biggest weakness. Jonny Fly doesn't need this as much as I do. Jonny Fly doesn't understand the depths that I am willing to go to in order to defeat him. He has waltzed his way back in here and prepared for an entire roster by tossing around some nobody last week. Meanwhile I have been preparing for Jonny Fly for over a year.
She walks a few steps away, looking through the blinds out of the window as she clasps her hands together behind her.
Sarah: I don't need quips ... I don't need to paradize the accomplishments that Fly has achieved. It would be easy for me to harp on about how he lost to Jay Price. I can easily pick apart each one of the things that he has accomplished here. That isn't going to put his shoulders to the mat in defeat. What will put his shoulders to the mat is the fact that I want this more than he does. I didn't come this far to walk away empty handed. Sure, I make the decisions around here ... and I could easily do whatever I wanted to ensure that I walk out as the World Champion. But before all of that I am a fucking competitor. WHEN I walk out of that match as the World Champion ... it will be based on the fact that was willing to go further than ANYONE ELSE in order to hold that distinction. That includes Jonny Fly. He can hand out whatever tag lines he'd like ... he can ramble on and on, smile and call it a day. I am showing up to FIGHT. And it is a fight that I do NOT intend to lose. Everyone is capable of being defeated, and that includes Jonny Fly. When the dust settles, one thing is for certain ... Jonny Fly is never going to be the same man after WAR. I guarantee you that.
Seth: Well uh, I wish you the best of luck!
Sarah turns back from the window and in a very calm voice she replies to Seth.
Sarah: I don't need your luck.
She takes the next to last figure and places it on the platform beside Jonny Fly. This one if of course, Bobby Cairo.
Sarah: There is not a man, myth or legend who is going to stop me from walking out of WAR as the World Champion. I don't really care what agenda that Bobby Cairo has. He enjoyed his tenure here six years ago and he has settled down for another ride. The rumors and the stories that are told in the hallowed halls of any WCF arena tell the story. Bobby Cairo is about as capable a competitor as they come. But he has never stood across from a competitor like me. I couldn't honestly tell you what the outcome would be should we ever clash in a one on one collision. I am as unfamiliar personally with his ring prowess as he is mine. What I CAN tell you, is that in this predicament ... there is not a person alive who can stand between me and the World Championship. This includes Bobby Cairo. If he wants to sit me down for a history lesson, or tell me about the brutalities he has witnessed throughout his lifetime ... that will have to wait for another time. I don't care about Bobby Cairo's past, present or future here. The only future I care about places the WCF Championship around my waist. I will gladly go through Bobby Cairo along with everyone else. The only thing Bobby needs to understand is that he is going to be in for a fight ... and it very well may be a fight for his own life.
Sarah reaches down and grabs the very last figurine from the pile. It is her own likeness. She looks down at it with a smirk, shaking her head as the contours and features melded in plastic were sub-par. Though an action figure was never meant to be a perfect representation. She looks over the tint of color for her long red locks of hair, and the coloring of the eyes on the figurine. The painted logo on the tee-shirt that bares her very own moniker "The Only One." Despite the toy not being a perfect miniature representation ... the craftsmanship was all there. Every last detail on the clothing was intricately brushed on. She gives the action figure a few more moments of study before placing her own figurine on the very top of the platform above all of the rest. She takes a few steps back to look upon the Levels of WCF before walking back around to the side of her desk.
Sarah: I don't care about any of this, you know?
She motions around the office as Seth looks on. His arms folded and he has gained a second wind of sorts being as it appeared this meeting was finally coming to a close.
Sarah: This being owner bullshit. It doesn't matter to me. I don't care about this roster ... I really don't. I don't care about making things any better for them. They mean nothing to me. I don't care about Bravado or who does what around here. I eliminated the rules ... because I don't care enough to bother with them. I can own this company ... I can do whatever the fuck I please and nothing has changed for me. I have ALWAYS done what I please. So this ... all of this ... it means nothing to me. The only thing that matters to me at all ...
Sarah turns to the wall on her right and she reaches up and removes the replica WCF World Championship belt she had been given at the close of her reign to acknowledge her accomplishment. She holds it in her hands and she stares at it for a long while. Her own engraved name staring back at her as a reminder. She never looks back up at Seth. She just continues to stare down at the championship she had worked so hard for, for so long.
Sarah: This is all I have ever cared about. To look at it and KNOW that without any question you are the greatest wrestler in the world. And that's just it ... even without it, I KNOW that I am the greatest wrestler in the world. I KNOW that my passion is stronger than anyone else's. I don't need approval from the sheep, I do not need a pat on the back or someone to tell me that I am great ... I just know it. I've always known it. I am at a level all on my own. It is a level that not any one of your past or present roster can match. It is the very desire that I have burning inside me every waking moment of my life. It is something that no one else has. Not Jonny Fly, not Logan, not Bobby Cairo. So when I am presented with the opportunity to step into the ring with every last competitor that we have, from the shit, to the mediocre, to the part timers and the has beens. The legends and those who can actually stand as competitors themselves .... when I can stand in that ring and surpass them all. Outlast every one of them and hold this high as the symbol of everything I have worked for ...I am going to go to unimaginable lengths in order to attain that. I don't care if I have to drag each and every last one of them to the depths of HELL along with me ... I will walk out of WAR as the WCF World Champion.
Seth remains seated as Sarah begins to pace back and forth still holding the championship of her former reign in her hands ... never once taking her eyes from it.
Sarah: I have continued to strive for everything that I have EARNED during my career. I EARNED the right be called the very first woman in WCF history to win the Classic. I have EARNED the title as the first and only woman to hold the World Championship. I have EARNED my place and I will continue to earn it. I will be the first woman to win the WAR match ... and in doing so I will become a two time WCF World Champion. This is where I thrive ... this is where I excel. Everyone expects to win ... hell, you and Eric began MARKETING the fucking thing as "separating the men from the boys." The ads that have run have all mentioned that only one MAN can walk out of WAR as the winner. I absolutely LOVE it when someone tells me that I can't do something. I find that is when I am at my very best. They told me that I couldn't win the classic ... and I did. They told me I would never be world champion ... and I was. Tell me that I can't win WAR? I WILL!
Finally she sets the championship down upon the desk in front of her and she takes a seat where she had originally began the afternoon. She folds her hands neatly in front of her and smiles ... almost sarcastically as she looks at Seth.
Sarah: This is not a man's sport any longer, Seth. I have taken every notion of that away ... and I continue to do so. This is going to be the first time that I walk into WAR ... and it is going to be the only time that I need to because I am leaving with nothing less than victory and the WCF World Championship. Anyone who believes differently is living in a fool's paradise.
Seth nods his head and looks completely exhausted at this point. He leans forward in the chair and with every fleeting desperation he pleads.
Seth: Are we finished now?
Sarah smirks as she looks back down at her desk and begins to nod slightly.
Sarah: Mmhmm. We are.
Seth: Oh thank God! Well this whole thing has been great. And I'm sure you're going to do awesome at WAR. Anyway, gotta go!
Seth wastes no time at all in darting up from the chair and making a mad dash for the door. Though his hopes are crushed one last time as he tugs at the handle to make his retreat.
Sarah: Oh and Seth? One more thing ...
Seth's face sinks. He turns around with a miserable hue around his eyes and his drawn out features call out in angst.
Seth: What? What more do you want from me?
Sarah looks up, hands still folded and she smiles warmly at Seth. Almost ... too warmly.
Sarah: I know exactly how it is that Eric wound up being rehired. I don't understand how people think they could hide something like that from me.
Seth turns ghostly pale at this point. He fumbles for words.
Seth: Sarah I ... that had nothing to do with --
Sarah: I don't want to hear it. Following WAR, and my crowning as the NEW WCF World Champion ... you and I will have a little chit-chat, okay? Now you take care of yourself, Seth.
With that, she dismisses him. Seth quickly makes a hasty retreat into the hallway. Sarah remains at her desk where her gaze once again falls upon the World Championship. Every moment ... every drop of blood, every drop of sweat and every tear that has ever stained the mat on her behalf runs fresh in her mind. This is WAR ... and in WAR ... only the strong survive. We fade to black.
WCF Headquarters - Reading, Pennsylvania
The Office of Sarah Twilight
Monday, September 23rd, 2013 - 3:17PM
A corporate setting such as the main offices of Wrestling Championship Federation is not exactly the type of place that you would ever envision someone as callous and uncaring as Sarah Twilight to be spending any part of her day. In fact, the entire roster is still reeling and riddled with disbelief by the fact that she is now ... the boss. The entire concept just didn't sound right ... not by any stretch of the imagination. So of course, to see her leaning back in a large, black leather chair, her navy blue denim jean covered legs kicked up onto the large dual oak desk that sat in front of her, and her black Nike sneakers complete with purple swoosh and trim dangling freely over the edge ... just seemed so out of place. The gorgeous redhead relaxed and literally on top of the world with the receiver end of a telephone clutched to her ear in one hand, and her other hand holding a silver ball point pen which she keeps loosely between her thumb and forefinger as she taps her fingernails along the large calendar that takes up much of the space on the branched out portion of the desk. Her silver pentacle charm that rests just over her purple v cut tee shirt glistens brightly under a few rays of sunlight that capture it as they find their way through a few openings in the blinds. The office that once belonged to Seth Lerch, Jonny Fly and even Eric Price was now outfitted for Sarah's own comfort. Along the wall to her right, her duplicates of the WCF World Championship and Television Championship ... as well as one half of the WCF Tag Championships ... from her first run. Each of them complete with a gold name plate and engraved with her name.
To her left is a large platform that stands against the wall, resembling the winner's stand commonly seen at the Olympic games. The platform stands about four feet high and appears like a staircase, with uneven steps on both sides. It is here that replica trophies from the WCF Classic, as well as the Trios Cup are arranged neatly. At the very top of the platform ... Sarah's own victory for the 2012 WCF Classic is displayed prominently. Beside this platform is a large enclosed cabinet with a glass facade that holds within it, one figurine for every WCF Wrestler who has ever competed for the company. There are rows and rows of these figurines within the cabinet and fill up almost the entire cabinet. Standing in front of the cabinet is Sarah's youngest sister, Angie ... staring at the rows of action figures with awe and amazement at the collection. Every other corner of the room is littered with stacks of cardboard boxes. Most of them full with various items, indicating that either she was moving things in ... or out. Sarah continues with her phone call as her young sister is left to her own devices and opens the cabinet, taking a few of the figures from it. Everything is relatively calm and quite as what you would probably expect for a typical Monday afternoon in Reading, Pennsylvania. However, this was NOT a typical Monday afternoon ... this is the Monday before WAR. And this was a WAR that Sarah Twilight intended to win ...
Sarah: Yeah, we're going to be leaving soon. I cannot WAIT to get out of this shithole town. I'll see you in Jersey when I drop her off alright? I have to be in Phoenix early.
As she continues her conversation there is a knock at the door. Sarah briefly looks up from her desk, and decides to ignore it. Instead, she just carries on with her phone call.
Sarah: Rachel, she's fine ... I'm not competing until Sunday. This is all boring office shit.
Another knock ... this one louder. Sarah again looks toward the door, annoyed.
Sarah: UGH ... I have to go. I'll call you back.
She hangs up the telephone and pulls her feet down from the desk, as if the knock had disturbed her so much so that ... she broke herself out of her own comfort.
Sarah: The fucking door is open.
She calls out, still pretty angered by the interruption. Slowly the door creeps open and a small framed woman with dark hair pokes her head into the room. She seems very meek and almost as if she is afraid to speak. Sarah tilts her head, narrowing her eyes a bit with a slight look of confusion upon her face.
Woman: I .. I'm sorry Miss Twilight. I don't mean to bother you but ... Mr. Lerch and another gentleman are here to see you.
Sarah remains with a puzzled expression. She folds her hands in front of her on the desk and leans forward, rather unimpressed with the woman.
Sarah: Who the fuck are you?
The woman is obviously already intimidated, and Sarah's rude response certainly didn't help matters. She attempts to respond ... her tone is soft and uses all intent to mollify the bitterness of Sarah's demeanor toward her.
Woman: I ...I'm Cassie ... your secretary.
Sarah blinks a few times and leans back into her chair, shaking her head.
Sarah: Whatever, just tell Seth to get his ass in here.
Cassie nods and smiles, more than willing to do her job. The last thing she had wanted to do is disturb the boss. Just as she begins to pull the door shut to go inform Seth that Sarah was ready for him, the contemptuous redhead stops her as she calls out.
Sarah: Oh, and Cathy?
Cassie had wanted to correct her, because Cathy was not her name ... but after the initial introduction had gone so sour, she not dare say a word about it. She simply pokes her head back inside and furrows a brow, questioningly awaiting further instruction.
Sarah: I don't have the need for a secretary ... or anyone to inform me that someone wants to see me. If they cannot knock themselves ... fuck em'. Anyway ... you're fired.
Cassie looks absolutely horrified. Tears roll down her cheeks as she exits the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Angie giggles as she continues to rummage through all of the various action figures at the cabinet. Sarah leans back in her chair once again and kicks her feet back up onto the desk. She glances over at Angie with a slight smile.
Sarah: Having fun?
Angie nods her head vehemently, still mesmerized by all of the figurines.
Angie: This is ... so awesome. One day I am gonna have an action figure of me just like you do!
Sarah shakes her head, continuing to smile. Just then, there is another knock at the door right before Seth Lerch pokes his head in.
Seth: Hey, Sarah ... I've got great news!
Sarah looks less than impressed. She simply rolls her eyes and passively waves Seth into the room. The former WCF Owner steps inside, followed by another man who is in his early to mid forties, balding and with salt and peppered hair. He is dressed in a finely pressed suit and is carrying a manilla envelope with him. Sarah eyes him oddly as he and Seth shuffle in front of the chairs across from Sarah at the desk. The man offers his hand to Sarah. She looks down at it, and ignores him. Seth laughs a bit nervously, trying to lighten the fact that Sarah just dissed the man. Suddenly, Seth's eyes dart back to where Angie was fumbling with all of the figurines. He nearly loses his mind as he rushes over, grabbing them and trying to put them neatly back in the casing.
Seth: Don't touch those! Gah! It has taken me YEARS to set that up!
Sarah clears her throat particularly loudly. Seth looks back at her, and she doesn't seem anymore pleased. In fact, she seems more pissed.
Sarah: Did you just tell MY sister what to do, Seth?
Seth sighs and lowers his head a bit.
Seth: I didn't mean to, Sarah. But that collection is a reminder of this great company that I built. I have nowhere else to put it!
Sarah again rolls her eyes.
Sarah: I don't give a shit about your toys, Seth.
Angie: It's ok, Sarah. I'm done playing with them anyway. I'm going to go down to the cafeteria and get some food.
Sarah nods as Angie quickly exits the room. Seth's company seems to be growing impatient as the small series of bickering takes place. Seth makes his way back to his seat and tries to lighten the mood once again.
Seth: Soooo! Can we get to business?
Sarah's gaze shifts from the unknown gentleman to Seth. She looks less happy than she is puzzled by this.
Sarah: What business?
Seth: Well, I had let Eric know about this a month or so ago ... buuuuut since he isn't running the show anymore. Anyway, I forgot this meeting was today until ... today.
Sarah shakes her head and fires off a sharp tongue at Seth.
Sarah: Will you quit the rambling and just spit it the fuck out?!
Before Seth gets the chance, his guest takes the opportunity himself.
Man: My name is James Sanderson. I represent Comcast Cable. I've been in talks with Mr. Lerch and Mr. Price for quite some time now. After keeping a close eye on your product, we have decided that we want to make an offer to the WCF to carry your programming on an exclusive basis ...
He slides the manilla envelope toward Sarah. She passively glances down at it, and then looks back up at him.
James: I believe you'll find that the numbers are very generous. With your WAR event coming up, we feel this is an appropriate time to showcase your company at an entirely different level. If the numbers are to your liking, we'd like to begin immediately following your pay per view event.
Sarah listens on... passively. Seth is damn near jumping out of his seat with excitement. As James finishes up the opening to his pitch, Sarah takes the envelope in hand and slides it right back to him.
Sarah: Not interested.
Seth almost comes out of his own skin.
Seth: WHAT?! Sarah why? This is a GREAT opportunity!
James holds his hand out to calm Seth as he continues with his pitch.
James: Miss Twilight ... I can understand that this was just dumped in your lap, and that you haven't had time to let everything settle in. But I just want to let you know that this is a very lucrative offer that is going to make your company as well as mine ... a LOT of money. We are talking about exclusive programming ... your own network broadcast. Really get the faces of your company recognized in a greater capacity than just one weekly televised event.
Sarah folds her arms, still shaking her head.
Sarah: I don't care. I said I am not interested.
James: Miss Twilight --
Sarah: I have MADE my decision ... now get the FUCK ... out of my office!
James looks rather insulted as he swipes his envelop off of the table and leaves the room in a huff. Seth looks completely shocked and disappointed as he rises from his seat and starts after James in an attempt to smooth things over. However, he doesn't get a finger on the doorknob before he is stopped in his tracks.
Sarah: Oh no ... you stay, Seth.
Seth turns back around and lets out a large exhale of breath. He scratches his head as he makes his way back toward his seat ... looking at Sarah VERY questioningly.
Seth: Sarah ... why? That was probably the greatest offer we've ever had! How could you turn it down?
Sarah's eyes are cold and piercing as they fall back upon Seth. She plants her hands firmly on the desk and stands up.
Sarah: Because this roster does NOT deserve that. This entire organization of YOUR failures and disappointments ...
Sarah pauses mid-sentence as she reaches down, pulling open one of the drawers to the desk. She reaches down into the drawer with both hands and removes a rather LARGE stack of papers, dropping them down on the desk with a THUD. Seth jumps back in his seat a bit.
Sarah: Do you see all of this?
She plants a finger atop the stack of papers, pressing her fingernail into the sheets.
Sarah: THIS is what ten years of disappointment looks like. This is what happens when you are SOFT ... when you allow a bunch of insignificant WASTES to walk all over you.
She shakes her head in disgust.
Sarah: I have been going over nothing but paperwork for the last WEEK and all I have come across are all the sad excuses for wrestlers that we have. Roster fillers! That is ALL they are, and yet you've kept nearly every one of them. You've gathered a collection of worthless garbage that you just couldn't ever let go of. And you expect to peddle THAT as some major event? WAR is nothing more than a glorified train wreck, Seth. A bunch of fluffy filler disguised and packaged as competitors who actually have an 'opportunity' thrown into the ring with the FEW who are actually capable of competing.
Seth decides at this point that he must interject. He shakes his head vehemently.
Seth: WAR is unpredictable! Anyone can win, that's not just a catchy hook, it is the truth. WAR is one of the greatest matches that we have here in --
Sarah completely ignores him and cuts him off.
Sarah: WAR is placing a bunch of pathetic sheep into the slaughterhouse with a hungry wolf! Why don't you tell it like it is, Seth? Why don't you grow a set of fucking BALLS and tell people how it REALLY is? That's the difference between us ... the difference between Eric and I. You all just want to pacify everyone and sugar coat their existence as if they had a chance in hell of accomplishing anything around here. I tell it like it is, Seth. I always have and that is why ninety percent of the roster cannot STAND me. Because I won't placate them. I give everyone the truth ... whether they like to hear the harsh realities or not. When you look around ... there is not a single member of this roster who can say that. Not one! I may rip the flesh from someone's bone ... torture them with a misery like they have never endured in their lifetime ... but regardless of that, every last word that comes out of my mouth has been the truth. The unwanted truth that everyone on the roster tries to ignore ... until that inevitable time comes where they have to stand across from me inside of that ring and they know. They know deep inside that no matter how much they want to deny it ... when that bell rings, they are going to be exposed for everything that I have said that they are.
She rifles through the papers on her desk. She carelessly flops them down with a scowl upon her face. The papers slide over the surface of the desk, some of them sailing slowly to the floor as they pass the edge of the wood.
Sarah: I look at this MESS that you've created ... and all I see is a man that surrounded himself with failure for ten years ... and you seemed to enjoy it. Now, you're going to stand here in my face and try and tell me that you've somehow convinced yourself that throwing all of this CRAP in a ring with me is competition? I don't give a shit what you want to tell yourself, the fact of the matter is you have everyone else ... and then you have ME. There is no comparison to be made, there is no competition to be had. Every last one of these pieces of paper represent another one of the many disappointments that make up your existence, Seth. And I am going to eliminate each and every last one of them.
Seth shrugs a bit and lets out a small chuckle.
Seth: I know you're confident, Sarah. I don't blame you. But there are going to be quite a few heavy hitters in that match. This is literally the who's who of WAR! I don't think you'll find it as easy to win as you claim it will be.
Sarah glares at Seth with blatant disapproval for his comments. Seth however, is not going to back off of his statement. The WAR match was shaping up to be the best one yet, and he would keep that train of thought despite Sarah's bluster.
Sarah: That is the problem ... you DON'T think! You still believe that a good majority of the shit we call an active roster is still relevant.
Again Sarah looks down at the stack of papers on her desk that have been haphazardly strewn about during her earlier episode of anger and disgust.
Sarah: Do you even realize how this fucking roster looks? If I took all of these contracts and separated them by who actually has any worth around her ... do you know what we'd get?
Seth stumbles for an answer ... though he didn't exactly need one. Sarah was perfectly ready to show him exactly what she was talking about as she starts gathering some of the papers together.
Sarah: You have more than half a roster who --
She pauses as something catches her eye. She immediately drops the papers she had collected and makes her way from around the desk. Seth turns in his chair to see what the hell she was doing now as she walks around to the large platform containing the various tournament trophies. She tosses trophy after trophy aside, discarding them carelessly as she begins clearing each step of the platform. The only trophy which she handles with care is the one that displays her own name. She reaches passed Seth and carefully sets that one down on her desk. Seth quirks a brow.
Seth: What the hell are you doing?! That's WCF History!
Sarah: Shut the fuck up!
She continues the task at hand, now collecting on the empty cardboard boxes from against the wall. She opens the glass door to the cabinet containing the figurines and in long swoops of her arm she begins dumping all of the action figures into the cardboard box. Seth is losing his mind, about to tear out his own hair as he jumps up.
Seth: Hey! HEY! CAREFUL! Do you even KNOW how long I've been collecting those?!
Sarah dumps the last of the figures into the box and turns back to Seth with an almost murderous intent in her eyes.
Sarah: SIT DOWN!
Seth jumps back a little bit and slowly settles back into his seat. Sarah begins picking out various action figures from the box. She is knealt down in front of the platform stands as she begins speaking to Seth once again, never bothering to turn around and face him. She was focused on her current task at the moment.
Sarah: When I look at the WCF roster ... it can be split into various levels. The level of competition each person is capable of ... the level of worth they bring to the company overall, and the level at which they are going to peak.
She points at the lowest step of the platform as she continues to set aside figurines in front of the box.
Sarah: The problem that WCF has always had is that ... MOST of the roster is down here. We'll call this ... Level One. This is where almost ... ALMOST everyone who has ever stepped foot in this company begins. Thing is ... not many of them ever leave that spot. They just linger, taking up space. For most of them, it seems they are just complacent being worthless. They show up ... do not much of anything and go home. No one cares a damn thing about any of them, and that seems to be "OK" because somehow they still have a job.
She takes the first set of figurines and sets them on the bottom step. They range from a Scotsman in a kilt, a Luchadore in a mask, another Mexican wearing a bandana and resembling a gang member, a man with long blonde hair and a trench coat, another man with various tattoos, a short haircut and a well trimmed goatee. Also among the group of action figures is a man with a mohawk, also tattooed ... and a man wearing a brown fur robe and viking's crown. Sarah sets them all on the platform and looks oddly at the lot of them.
Sarah: I don't ... even know who the fuck these are supposed to be?
Seth glances over and a sense of pride comes over him as of course he knew who all of the taent was. He made sure to collect a figurine for every competitor past and present. He happily informs Sarah as to who the lot of action figures was representing.
Seth: Well Sarah, those are a bunch of new hires. Cormack MacNeill, Eli the Kid, Jason Xavier, Jayden Thuder, Ryan Rhodes, Johnny Towers and Jon Michaels. Jeez Sarah, don't you even know who you employ?
Sarah shakes her head passively and shrugs.
Sarah: I don't care. ANYHOW ... being as I don't know who any of those people even are, all I am going to say is that if I did care, I'd feel sorry for them. They have all been here a short time ... well except this guy.
She points at the figurine of Eli the Kid.
Sarah: I'm pretty sure he's been taking up space for a bit longer a time than the rest of them and yet ... I still have no idea who he is. Nor do I give a fuck. At the end of the day, the only thing they all have in common is the fact that they chose the WRONG time to try and break through around here. One of two of them might actually move up a step after a while, but the sad reality is that most of them are going to remain right where they are. The fact that they will even BE in WAR is probably the biggest accomplishment they may ever lay claim to. I don't know a damn thing about any of them, and I really don't care to. When they have shown SOME kind of worth around here, maybe ... MAYBE they'll catch my attention. But it isn't going to happen at WAR. So ... moving on.
The next figurine she removes from the box is of Havok. She laughs at this one and tosses it aside.
Sarah: Spiderman figures ... really Seth?
Seth: That's actually Havok. He debuted about a month or so ago.
Sarah shakes her head and laughs, now collecting the discarded figure and adding it to the bottom step of the platform.
Sarah: Well then, we can just toss him in as another guy who has been taking up space for a while and I still don't give a fuck about. Seriously, the only thing different about this idiot is that he looks like something out of Marvel Comics.
The next action figure to come out of the box is a replica of Tyler Walker. Sarah smirks heavily as she places the figurine with the others at level one.
Sarah: And this is what happens when a Gorilla fucks a Camel! You end up with some retarded walking dick with ears who looks like he was rejected as an additional member to the cast of Jersey Shore. Annnd of course, this would mean that Seth Lerch absolutely loves having him taking up space on the roster and dumbing everyone down each and every time he opens his fucking mouth. Seriously, Seth ... where the fuck do you get these assholes?
Seth simply shrugs. He watches carefully, hoping that Sarah doesn't damage any of the action figures. She continues to rummage through the cardboard box, removing yet another. This one is none other than Biohazard. Seth smiles a bit as she places this one on the level one platform.
Sarah: Another comic book reject ... seriously ... fucking seriously?
Seth: What?! Biohazard is awesome!
Sarah: Biohazard is a fucking sideshow! We seriously litter this entire roster with SHIT! This little bullshit that makes you chuckle and feel all warm and fuzzy inside is EXACTLY why WCF does not deserve more exposure. You and your Sesame Street pet projects ... seriously, who ... other than you gives a fuck about this guy? He's been here umpteen thousand different times and the only thing he has managed to accomplish each and every time is to SUCK worse than he did before.
Seth frowns at this, but as expected ... Sarah doesn't care. She is just growing more disgusted by the minute as she pulls more figures from the box. The next set of figures to come out are that of Matthew Robinson and Seifer Black Armstrong. Though she glances back at the figure of Biohazard and just shakes her head again.
Sarah: Fucking "Ooze to Faces" Sesame Street bullshit ...
A scowl contorts her lips once more.
Sarah: Anyhow ... these two. I don't know whether to be pissed off that we have even MORE disgraces that float around at the bottom of the barrel or just laugh at how absolutely pathetic they are.
Seth: You should laugh. A smile suits you much better.
Sarah turns and glares at him. Seth gives her the "why does EVERYTHING piss you off?" look.
Seth: I'm just saying!
Sarah continues to glare at him ... though eventually, she does manage to crack a smile. This comes as a bit of a surprise to Seth, who just leans back now.
Sarah: Actually, you're right ... with these two, all I can do is laugh. Every time I see either of them on screen I feel like I am watching Days of Our Lives. Who kidnapped my wife? Who is trying to murder my baby? My pregnant bitch wife got put in a match. You don't know how many babies we've lost. You are my best friend ... you stabbed me in the back. Now you want redemption. When is one going to lube up the ass of the other one? Who shot J.R.? Who will be Erica Kane's next husband? And who GIVES A FUCK?!
Seth shrugs a bit and tries to get more comfortable in the chair ... he doesn't seem to want to stay here much longer.
Seth: Uh, Sarah? Is this going to be like everyone cause ... I have other stuff to do.
Sarah stands up, placing her hands on her hips as she glares down at Seth yet again.
Sarah: Oh fuck no. You are going to sit there and you are going to listen. The shape that this company is in .... that all lies in your hands. This is ten years worth of you being a fucking doormat. Let's be honest, Seth ... the reason WCF is known for these huge clusterfucks of matches that take place OUTSIDE of WAR is because you honestly have had not a fucking clue to do with half of the roster during the time you were running shit. And in case you haven't noticed ... I am cleaning up your fucking mess. So while I do ... you will sit there and watch as the harsh realities are presented to you. This is my roster now ... a roster that completely sickens me.
Seth just stares at her with a blank look on his face. He didn't really have anything to say at this point. So he just rests his chin against his hand and prepares to watch the 'evaluation' of the WCF roster according to Sarah. Now that she once again has his attention, Sarah returns to the box of action figures, plucking another one from the contents. This particular one is Deuce Maximus. She immediately tosses the figurine onto the level one platform.
Sarah: And no one gives a shit about that guy. At BEST he's good for a few stand up comedian jokes that MIGHT get one guy somewhere in the twenty ninth row to giggle like a retard for half a second until he realizes that he too, didn't actually understand what was just said. Congratulations ... we have a comedian on our roster ... too bad this isn't the fucking Laugh Factory!
Back into the box and out comes ... Jack Happy. Sarah looks even more disgusted than before as she tosses his figurine onto the same pile with the rest. In fact, the step at level one doesn't even have much room left on it.
Sarah: And we go from a comedian to a fucking clown! What is this guy, a walking advertisement for Jack in the Box? Handing out ice cream cones and buying people cheap toasters does NOT win matches. All he seems to want to do is make people "happy", and that sickens me. I don't give a SHIT about making anyone happy ... I care about results. This guy is nothing more than a fucking mascot. He's not a wrestler ... he's not even an entertainer. He just flat out sucks.
Seth can't help but to chuckle slightly there. He continues to watch as Sarah removes figure after figure. Though the way she tosses some of them does scare him a little bit. He wants so badly to go and arrange them all properly, but that would have to wait until later. The next person up is the current Internet Champion, Jordan Caliban.
Sarah: Oh, this fucking twit. This one I can't even blame on you. This was all Eric. What better way to represent WCF on the internet than with someone who can't fucking spell! His blogs and tweets resemble something you'd expect out of a neanderthal. Then again, look at who we're talking about. The guy doesn't understand the difference between "your" and "you're" or the differences between "there", "their", and "they're." I suppose you couldn't POSSIBLY expect more from someone who wants to send people home in ambulances one minute ... and pat them on the back for a "great job" the next. He doesn't know whether he wants to cripple people and not give a fuck, or save all the starving children in the orphanage his mother left him at when he was conceived.
She tosses the figure onto the pile with the rest in disgust.
Sarah: His big 'claim to fame' is defeating Eric "Pissing his Pants" Price for a championship that absolutely NO ONE outside of twits like him gives a fuck about. Seriously speaking ... he probably is the best choice we have for the JOKE that is the Internet Champion. He has an IQ of forty, he sounds like a teenage fan-girl on the internet whenever someone disagrees with him ... and he has a knack for blogging about shit that not a single person on planet Earth gives a shit about. I honestly would not be surprised if one day, E.T. showed up in a fucking spaceship JUST to tell that guy to shut the fuck up.
Sarah rummages through the box some more and out comes a figurine of Adam Young.
Sarah: Oh for fuck's sake! The fact that he exists is reason enough to promote the sale of condoms. This guy has been here since the very first plank of wood was laid down to construct this building and he still sucks just as badly as he did on that day. If you dropped a nuclear bomb on the state of Texas all that would remain are cockroaches and Adam Young. The only difference I see between him and the rest of the retards that make up the bulk of what IS the disappointment of WCF is that Adam knows that he sucks ... and he's come to terms with it. He is never going to amount to a damn thing in this company, and he knows it. Yet for whatever reason, he keeps showing up.
Seth: Well, not going to call the kettle black or anything ... but you did give him and his group a raise.
Sarah: Fuck off, Seth. I have had to go through this pile of shit roster to fix all of the fuck ups that have been made over the years. Increasing annual salary for those fucks is the equivalent of my reaching into my pocket and handing you a hundred bucks. He is the type of guy that I could fire, and he'd still show up because he is too stupid to understand the concept. So, I gave him some extra cash in the hopes that he'd get himself shitfaced drunk or something and forget to show up. Except that Adam hasn't yet figured out that he should just go home and do ... whatever the fuck it is that stupid Texans do.
The Adam Young action figure is put onto the pile with the rest. Sarah reaches into the box again and when she pulls out the next action figure, she smirks very heavily and begins chuckling to herself.
Sarah: Tek ... Tek, Tek, Tek. Now this is almost a joy to me. You know ... out of everyone ... EVERYONE in the entire WAR match, Tek has the most experience?
Seth looks a bit confused by that statement and cannot help but to respond.
Seth: Uh, Sarah ...
She continues speaking ... ignoring the interruption.
Sarah: He has without a doubt THE MOST experience at standing in a front of a camera each and every week to repeat the same fucking thing he did the week before. I mean ... this should be it ... I can't fucking wait! What is he possibly going to say?! What will he possibly do? Which backdrop will he stand in front of next? Wait ... I know! Maybe he'll change his nickname .... or his clothes. No, No! He'll stand in the back JUST before he is set to be announced into the match, he'll hand his 1994 mix tape to someone in the production truck and he will come out to the most bad ass theme he has ever walked his sorry ass to the ring with! Because I'm telling you .... the sheer magnitude of a new look, a new nickname and walking out to the ring to "Backstreet's Back" will send a quivering fear into the hearts of every last person out there! If it hasn't worked for the entirety of your career ... might as well give it YET another try, right?
She shrugs and places the Tek figurine along with the others on the very bottom step. Once again she begins searching through the box. Action figure after action figure are moved to one side of the box or the other. Eventually, Sarah places her hands on her thighs and just stares down into the box.
Sarah: Hrrmmph.
Seth leans forward in his chair, curious as to why she was having trouble selecting another figurine.
Seth: What are you looking for?
Sarah turns around to look at Seth casually.
Sarah: No Doc Henry toy, huh?
Seth shakes his head and slumps his shoulders a bit.
Seth: Nope. They never produced one.
Sarah cackles with a sense of wicked enjoyment at that revelation.
Sarah: Well that's appropriate. Doc Henry is as excluded from life as he is from your toy collection. He is THE prime example of what happens when you become complacent with failure. I can't even call it mediocrity when it comes to him ... because he is FAR below the measuring stick on almost every level conceivable. And yet he is ... just here. He's watched on year after year as rookies walk in here and move up ... meanwhile, he continues to wallow at the very bottom. I suppose he believes that being a member of the roster for a century somehow equates to talent ... of which he has none. Doc Henry is like that guy who sits at the very last bar stool in his neighborhood pub for twenty five years ... no one notices him, no one gives a fuck. Times change, the crowds change and despite him not belonging there any longer, he just refuses to leave. Everything going on around him is far beyond his scope of understanding so he develops tunnel vision and merely sees what he wants to see. Everyone else around him knows he sucks, but he doesn't know it. Or maybe he does and is just in denial, who knows? Who cares? Enough time wasted on him.
Sarah digs her hands into the box again and shuffles a few things around. She glances up at the platform and notices that the bottom step in completely full with action figures. A sly smirk forms across her face as she lightly laughs to herself. She drops the few figures she had in her hands and glances back toward Seth.
Sarah: Would you look at that. That right there is about HALF of the active roster ... and we haven't even gotten to level two! This is how PATHETIC the WAR match really is. The truth hurts. Whether people like to admit it or not, I am the BEST thing that could have possibly happened to this company. I have no qualms with making sure that the heap of trash stays right where it belongs. And ... from where I sit, it happens to now be my JOB because OTHER people were so fucking incompetent in allowing this disaster to happen in the first place.
Sarah turns back to the box. She stares at it for a long time as her thoughts swirl wildly in her mind. The disdain and disgust she held for each member of the roster pounded like drums inside of her head. The inadequate drove of useless carcasses that had been left under her charge served only as a reminder of her own preeminence to them. With each figurine that was emptied from the box, another drop of seething hatred festered in the caverns of her very being. For over a decade she has sacrificed and bled, suffered and endured every obstacle thrown in her path. Before her in this dusty cardboard box sat the representation of every undeserving parasite who had sought a glamorous existence without having left their own blood, sweat and tears as reparation. It is for that reason that she eliminated rules from contests fought under her watch. It is because of each of them, that she would deny immediate medical care in most instances. The exorbitant praise laid upon these sycophants was just cause to nullify the People's Championship. For the most prodigious parasite of them all were the people themselves. At some point, the history looks would look back and realize that a great justice was done to transform professional wrestling and lift it from the bowels of mediocrity. To whom would that distinction fall upon? Sarah. As days come to pass and she would dispatch each and every member of the roster to capture her second WCF World Championship ... they would have no choice but to grovel at her feet, admitting that she alone was the pillar that determined this company's success. Sarah. Thoughts continue to race through her mind as she suddenly realizes that her spoken name was not coming from the innermost consciousness of her brain. But rather, her name was being called outside of her distant entrancement.
Seth: Sarah?
She rotates her head slightly to the side, catching glimpse of Seth in her peripheral vision. Irritated at the intrusion of her thoughts, she scowls at him, now having forgotten the contents of the box and the evaluation that she had been presenting. She responds coldly.
Sarah: What?!
Seth scratches his head. He certainly had no issue with leaving her be and offers up that option in response to her indignant temperament.
Seth: So, uh ... I can come back later? Yeaaah, know what? I'll just leave you alone for now.
The momentary lapse had by now dissipated. She turns to completely face him now.
Sarah: We are finished when I say we're finished. Now shut your mouth and we'll continue.
Seth sighs a bit, not wanting to be here listening to all of this. To top it off, Sarah had taken HER lapse in thought and turned it around to blame him. He frowns some more knowing that this was going to be a very long afternoon. Sarah turns her attention back to the box, but pauses before grabbing another figurine from it.
Sarah: So, where were we ... oh yes, the levels of SUCK that we have as a roster.
She points a finger to the opposite side of the platform where the next step up rests. It is just slightly higher than the first step of the platform.
Sarah: This would be level two of the WCF roster. This is where people who suck slightly less than the complete wastes of space at level one reside. They've managed to move just past the Doc Henry's and Adam Young's of the world ... but in reality, that is HARDLY an accomplishment. I believe we have cameramen who are more capable in a ring than either of those two. This level of WCF is a glass ceiling for some, and a final settling point for those who's careers have peaked somewhere at a higher level and then fizzled out. Much like their counterparts below them on the food chain, they are complacent with coasting by ... stuck in "limbo" where they will never do much of anything. By all accounts this SHOULD be the starting point on our roster ... it's just that we have so many people who suck so TERRIBLY that this actually has to be a step up from that.
Seth listens on as Sarah now reaches back into the box to remove another action figure. She places the figurine on the second step and smirks. The likeness of this action figure is that of Odin Balfore.
Sarah: Odin ... Mr. Ragnarök himself. When I think of him, I think of a group of retarded teenagers playing Dungeons and Dragons in their mother's basement somewhere, complete with Funyuns, Root Beer and Cheetos. Odin is the classic example of someone who's career has already peaked as high as it will ever get and he is relegated to swimming along as a bottom feeder. The only problem with that is ... Odin's career had peaked and fallen into the shitter LONG before he got here. Despite that fact, he was once considered a 'top contender' around here ... I wonder how that is?
She looks back at Seth and shakes her head.
Sarah: Though I suppose in whatever twisted, backwards series of events that occurred at a time when I THANKFULLY wasn't around to witness ... Odin as a major contender makes sense. I mean, Odin was huge back when ... well when someone like Doc Henry would have been considered by YOU to fall somewhere at level three. Buuuut, some people never learn I guess. Here we are in 2013, and you dragged Odin's ass out of the retirement home along with dipshits like Skyler Striker and what happened? I smacked the shit out of them and sent them back down the line where they belong! And now ... what is he calling himself "The Thickness?"
Sarah presses a finger to her lips and ponders for a moment.
Sarah: You know, that actually works well for him. Someone with THAT thick of a skull as to actually believe he is, or was ever relevant around here deserves to fall where his chips land. They've landed him near the bottom of the shit pile. My biggest prediction for Odin Balfore at WAR? He breaks forty two bones, rips three ligaments and develops a severe case of Alzheimer's and believes with all of his heart that he is living in 1992. It will be a toss up on whether or not he suffers a stroke during the match ... whatever.
She moves along, rifling back through the box. The lump of plastic figurines is growing somewhat smaller now. However, with the number of wrestlers there are from the past ... there are still quite a few action figures to be sorted through. The next figure she pulls from the box is a plastic replica of Oblivion. She sets this action figure right next to Odin Balfore on the second step of the platform.
Sarah: Oblivion ... the "Monster" of the WCF. Each and every time I have stepped into the ring with Oblivion ... he has been shown what a monster really is. His 'once great' career has been hollowed from the inside out and all that remains are his distant memories of a time when people feared him. The facade he once carried as being an indestructible force has been long forgotten and he wades in the murky waters of despair ... searching for a purpose. He hasn't quite figured out that his time has passed ... so he just keeps looking for that one thing to bring him success once again. The harsh reality is that it's never going to happen. He seeks to bring about carnage and destruction through a linear path that is palpable and garners attention. True carnage is caused at the passive level. It begins as a small planted seed and grows beneath the surface ... eliciting a misery and a sorrow that is far too extensive for any mortal being to endure. By the time the evils of this festering boil have surfaced to consume their quarry ... it is too late. This is exactly what has happened to Oblivion's career. He has spent a lifetime attempting to cement himself as savage behemoth ... all the while the very appetite with which he sought to satisfy his palate has torn him apart from the inside. His own yearning has been his demise. Oblivion is the frail, outside frame that remains of an evil that no longer exists.
She shakes her head in an obvious disappointment.
Sarah: That ... is the definition of pathetic.
She reaches back into the box, hardly even interested at this point as she yanks another plastic replica from it. This one being of the recently returned Lilith. Sarah simply tosses it onto the step and begins rummaging through the box some more. Though the entire time she feels the awkward look that Seth is now giving her. Finally she stops picking through the box and turns back toward Seth with a questioning eye. Seth simply shrugs in the chair and states the obvious.
Seth: I guess I just didn't expect that you'd skip any. I don't know?
Sarah rolls her eyes a bit, aggravated.
Sarah: What do you want me to say here? You want me to evaluate THAT? All I remember out of that stupid bitch is that she liked to sit around having tea time with Teddy Bears that she stole out of Ana Valentine's closet. It's like you're asking me to evaluate an eleven year old girl who is trying to emulate someone who counts. Which one of the hundred varieties of Lilith will we end up with today? The walking dead? Maybe a demon from hell? What kind of an impact are they actually going to have around here? Am I supposed to jump for fucking joy because she shows up here a week before WAR and tosses around some fucking CLOWN? No ... just no. I don't give a shit about Lilith, or her tea parties, or her attempts at auditioning for the lead role in Girl Interrupted. When it comes down to it, she is a VERY poor excuse for a watered down, MUCH less attractive ... never-will-be version of me. Now, I am moving along to the next reject ... alright?
She pulls another figurine from the box and sets it down alongside the others on step two of the platform. This one peaks Seth's interest being as it is an action figure of Lionheart. Considering this was whom Sarah had recently enlisted to demolish Eric Price a few weeks ago ... his low placement on the roster scale is somewhat surprising to Seth. Sarah turns back toward him with a grin, realizing the choice to place Lionheart at level two was something that required an answer.
Sarah: Do you think that because I allowed a rookie to humiliate that utter disgrace Eric Price, that I view him as something more than what he really is? Lionheart is simply big and stupid. His entire purpose in life is to somehow manage to wake up in the morning. So long as he does that on a daily basis, he can say he accomplished something. The truth of the matter is that I could have had almost ANYONE stand in his place. If he actually believes that because I allowed him the PRIVILEGE of caving in Eric's chest this means that he matters, he is SADLY mistaken. On the same night that he achieved his fifteen minutes of fame by tackling an ALREADY beaten man ... I dropped him on his retarded fucking head and pinned his shoulders to the mat. I might have actually done him a favor and jarred loose some of the braincells that he hasn't used in about fifteen years. All in all, that stupid oaf believes he accomplished something ... or that he matters. He does not. He is just another name on the long list of failures that I happen to employ.
Seth doesn't have anything to say, and as Sarah turns back to the box to grab another action figure, Seth digs into his pocket for his phone. He idly begins to play with the apps on the phone with the sound turned off while Sarah continues the display. Menawhile, Sarah places the likeness of John Barber on the step beside the others.
Sarah: John Barber ... a useless bush league upstart who somehow managed to find that ONE handle from the depths of the shit that wallows at the very bottom of our industry. Though he dangles just above it precariously and is destined to fall right back down the slope at any moment. He is like a lost puppy looking for somewhere to call home ... and by the nature of his own being, he finds himself drawn to mediocrity alongside people who are just as insignificant as he is. Truth is, he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he ever found himself residing among the upper echelon of this business. He doesn't belong and he knows it. This is why he has been comtent with defending the Television Championship against the scrapings of sludge that make up the bottom layer of the barrel. And it is for that reason that his precious tin scrap was taken from him. He does not deserve to call himself a champion ... and he does not deserve to have his name called out in the same night as my own.
Seth is semi-paying attention and eeks out a few "Mmhmms" and "Hrrms" as he continues to shuffle through the apps on his phone. Sarah grabs another poorly replicated action figure out of the box. The takes a long look at this one and laughs, placing it there on the second step. This particular likeness is of The Masked Man. Sarah shakes her head quite a bit as she continues to chuckle at the fact that a "Masked Man" replica toy had even been produced.
Sarah: How many times in the history of professional wrestling have we had some 'unknown' force donning a mask swoop into an arena and garner all kinds of attention simply by the mystique of who might possibly be hidden beneath the cloak of disguise? It has happened far more times than I wish to recount ... and here we are in midst of yet ANOTHER mystery that has yet to be solved. Intriguing? Hardly. How many times can be recalled where the revelation of who lurked beneath the mask was cause for excitement? There are not many. This instance shall be no different. For the better part of a YEAR this fucking idiot has run around here with his messages and his attacks. In fact, throughout this entire time ... I don't think he has known what the fuck he was doing. Pantheon, and the waste of my time that was Genesis ... whatever the fuck that other group was called ...ANYWAY, he spent his time jumping people backstage and now ... now all of the sudden he is the purveyor of justice? I do somehow recall that during the time that I was carrying those Genesis rejects ... the sheep in the stands adored each one of us ... they adored Pantheon. And yet I am to believe that the months and months of this individual showing up at random have anything to do with anything?
She shakes her head passively and cracks another smile.
Sarah: All that this does is lend further credence to what I have known all along; The Masked Man is nothing more than a delusional waste of space who has attempted to insert himself into anything and everything that has struck a chord here in WCF. This is his attempt at gaining relevance because the lack of interest that would be generated had he removed his mask and revealed to the world that he was an insignificant stain who no one gives a shit about would have sent him flopping back to the shadows from whence he came. He expects anyone to believe that a year ... a fucking YEAR worth of this shit was all leading up to this moment? That somehow NOW he has some point to prove? Does he honestly believe that declaring that you will win WAR to carry about some deluded notion of change is going to cut it? No .. let me tell you what actually happened. Month after month after month came and went. Every moment, every turn he thought; "Hey, maybe today is the day!" But then, he remembered that no one gives a shit so he'd hold off for another week. This process has repeated for nearly EIGHT months now ... and when it comes right down to it, it will not matter WHO is behind that ridiculous mask because let's face it ... there is not an individual on this roster past or present outside of myself that holds the type of paramount needed to justify the wait. So why don't we lay the cards on the table here? The masked man chose WAR to make his "triumphant" FLOP of a return not because he will be revered or because there will be some grand revelation that causes the masses to gasp in amazement. No, he chose WAR to return so that his very lackluster reemergence would CONTINUE to be masked as the failure that it is, simply by coddling it among the damn near fifty other fucking people that will be out there!
Seth looks up from his phone apps for a moment as Sarah continues to rant on the individual known as the masked man. He can't blame her too much ... after this many months of his antics, not much else but a disappointment could really be expected.
Sarah: All that I see, even in this plastic mold is a coward. Someone who does not have an ounce of the dignity and pride that it takes to succeed here. He wants to dwell within the darkened shades of corners as he shouts to all the inequity that he feels unjust. The only war that wages within his heart is the question of whether or not even WAR is the right time for him to unmask. Should his reappearance on this night fail ... what will he do? He will return to the sidelines as a spectator ... shouting his grievances and yet ... continuing to wallow in the reality he has created for himself. The reality that his only significance was earned through the period when no one knew his identity. And that his unmasking shall also be the undoing of the moment in time he has spent under the shattered spotlight of his existence.
Sarah looks at the figure for a good deal of time longer before she picks it up, removing it from the platform step and she tosses it to the other side of the room. The figurine lands unceremoniously into a waste paper basket near the corner. Seth jumps up from his app at the point, seeing as one of his collectibles had just been tossed away into the trash.
Seth: HEY!
Sarah doesn't notice Seth's dismay at this point. Her thoughts have consumed her regarding this roster wide evaluation. She continues speaking.
Sarah: A pussy like that has no place on my roster at ANY level.
She immediately moves past any further notion of the masked man and grabs the next action figure from the confines of the box. This one being Frank Patrick Venable. Seth rushes over to the trashcan, bringing it back with him to collect the discarded toy.
Sarah: FPV ... good ole' Frank. Here is a man who has never managed to figure out just where he wants to be. He's had some success ... MAYBE he could have had even more success, but we'll never really know because the chapter of his career has been closed. He finds himself more suited at being a follower than a leader. This was evident when I dragged his dead weight in Genesis. How quickly did everyone forget that Frank founded that group? No one cared because he wasn't someone who was important enough, or strong enough to be viewed as a leader. When people looked at that group ... they saw me as it's centerpiece. They saw me as the one who was calling the shots and Frank melted away into obscurity while happily accepting his place within the shadow of my own success. It really doesn't surprise me ... I mean this guy has been riding the coattails of more factions than I can even name at this point. He went from being a lackey in his own creation to ... puckering up to the Polar Phantasm and whatever fucking delusions he was peddling. Though, to Frank's credit ... I mean, if I were in his shoes, I'd find it much easier to pretend to me G.I. Joe and live that facade rather than the reality that he is a shitty wrestler who happened to fall into a few very forgettable successes.
Sarah places the FPV toy on the stand at the second step and offers the small action figure a very sarcastic salute, military style. She now begins speaking to the figurine directly ... mostly out of sarcasm and perhaps just to have a bit of her own enjoyment with this tedious task of evaluation.
Sarah: But hey, here's to you Frank. If living a permanent acid trip allows you to somehow manage to function and cling to your small little space of mediocrity, more power to you. Go battle some intergalactic robots and build us a talking computer. Hey, maybe dig a tunnel to the depths of Hell and tell us all about it. I would be very interested to hear more of your Gulliver's Travels right after I finish kicking your ass all over Phoenix. Ta-ta!
Sarah tilts her head as she surveys the second platform step. Meanwhile, Seth is rubbing some dirt off of the masked man figurine that had just come out of the trash container.
Sarah: Well, looks like we've stepped up to level three. But ... don't get yourself too excited, Seth. This is the area of the roster that we call ... the mid card. People who have found themselves some success and manage to remain just above the cesspool of filth that flows beneath them. These are people who, when they manage to achieve something, they wander around aimlessly without a fucking clue as to what to do next. They seem to look at their minor successes as gifts and hold their hands out for more. They wait ... and they wait for that next step up, HOPING to push their way out of the middle of the herd. And as they stand there with that blank, stupified look on their face ... wondering why they haven't managed to go anywhere in life, they remain blinded to the reality that no one is going to HAND them anything. These are the type of people that live by the philosophy that a small amount of effort somehow should reap a large amount of reward. When the dust settles ... this is the best they are ever going to get, and they just don't know it.
Sarah sends her hand diving back into the box as she prepares to pull the first action figure to be set at the level three position. The first likeness to come out of the box deserving of this placement is Waylon Cash. She places him on the right hand side of the platform, the next step up from the level one position on that side of the double sided 'staircase.' Though this step sits at a higher position than the level two step that serves as the base for the left side of the platform.
Sarah: Waylon Cash is the poster child for what a mid carder exemplifies. He's been given chance after chance after chance with so many various opportunities. Yet, he manages to fuck them all up. He'll be the first to scream and pout about how fucking great he is ... despite him doing absolutely NOTHING of significance during his entire time here. He'll let anyone who will listen know that he was once WCF World Champion ... who even remembers that? If you had sneezed you would have missed the entire thing. Waylon's short lived success is nothing more than an accident that everyone wishes they could just erase. But he'll remind you about it as if it was really something to brag about. "I was world champ for two whole weeks." He truly believes in that coked up hick brain of his that his little blip of being a flash in the pan matters. As if somehow he ever has a chance of moving forward. The most notable credit to his career was being carried in a tag team by Steve Orbit. Thing is ... he KNEW he was being carried and that he brought absolutely NOTHING to the table. So he severed his ties with Orbit and fluttered around doing nothing until one day ... the guy that lets Waylon bang his sister says "Hey, I have an idea!" And ooooh look out, we put a group of second rate retards together and beat up ring equipment. Everybody had better take notice!
Sarah smirks heavily with a small short lived laughter at this.
Sarah: The only thing more pathetic than the career of Waylon Cash ... is the fact that he actually believes he has a career to begin with. If it was really that simple ... everyone around here would count if just ONE person whispered in their ear and told them that they were awesome. I am starting to believe that Scott Savage is nothing more than a figment of Waylon's imagination that lets him cope with the fact that he completely sucks. With all of the outside substances that he puts into his body ... there is probably a cloud of it over us at all times. I mean we're all probably on that trip by now. One day I swear someone is going to walk into the Men's room during one of our shows and find Waylon beating the shit out of himself with anything that isn't tied down. It definitely makes sense ... Waylon Cash invented Scott Savage in order to have someone other than himself to blame for all of his failures. That's just Waylon's way of doing things ... don't take any responsibility for the fact that you are terrible at this. Just whine and bitch and tell the world that someone else told you that you could make it. In the end, who the fuck cares? Waylon wins the award for who can cry and moan the loudest ... that isn't going to get him anywhere at WAR. He might as well snort a few lines and not bother showing up that fucking delusional twit!
At this point, Sarah dumps the cardboard box over onto the floor as action figures scatter everywhere in front of her. Seth almost loses his shit as he scans the littered cluster of plastic men and women to make sure that none of them had been broken. Sarah grabs one of them from the now expanded pile along the floor. The one she settles on is Steeltoe Joe. This one gains a great deal of interest from Seth being as Joe was one of their own stablemates in Bravado.
Sarah: Joe, unfortunately is just another one of those people who is never going to claw his way past the midcard. He has done everything that he can think of to stand out ... and there just isn't any hope. He spent the bulk of his time here carting Tek around as if somehow his mediocrity would rub off on Tek's worthlessness. To his credit, Joe finally decided to dump the dead weight and he longed for his ascention into greatness. The only problem there is that ... that train pulled into the "The Buck Stops Here For You" station at the corner of Purgatory and Limbo. All the prayers in the world couldn't help this fucking guy make it.
Seth doesn't seem too pleased at Sarah's analysis of someone who is supposed to be her stablemate. He crosses his arms and shakes his head quite a bit.
Sarah: The major problem with Joe is that he has been looking for the expressway to stardom by way of anything and everything other than himself. He thought that praising and kissing the ass of Eric Price as if Eric was his new God was going to earn him his meal ticket. And the moment that flavor of the week was no longer the wagon for him to hitch his wheels ... he moved along. Now he wallows around under my thumb looking to be fed the scraps that are left over. Hoping for recognition and that FINALLY his star will shine. Don't get me wrong, he's had his successes. That run as People's champion is without question one of the most impressive. But, when it comes down to it ... that's all he's going to be remembered as. To have his name associated with the sheep that poison every aspect of this industry with their desires and their hopes ... is just pathetic. Though I do suppose that Joe was comfortable in such a position as being the shepherd leading his mindless flock.
She lowers her head a bit as if she actually had some sort of pity toward Joe. Though any notion of that quickly passes as she reaches down to the floor and grabs hold of another figure. This one her very own tag team partner; Jonathan Jakobs. She sighs heavily as she places his figurine alongside Joe's at the level three step.
Sarah: I don't know what elese I can tell you about Jonathan Jakobs. Just about every last thing I mentioned regarding Joe ... applies here as well. Jakobs looks for any opportunity he can find ... that is not based on his own merit. The fact that he is even relevent at all right now is because of me. He looks upon his success as his own, when in reality nothing about his minor successes are attributed to him. What exactly has he accomplished here? He stood BEHIND Eric Price whilst they were the Benefactors and rode that train as long as he could. But, Eric wasn't capable of pulling Jakobs along while still trying to dig himself out of the hole of obscurity he was in at the same time. Now, Jakobs stands BEHIND me holding a piece of tin that I could care fucking less about. He can have them both ... and of course, he'd lose them the very first time he stepped into the ring WITHOUT having the greatest professional wrestler the world has ever seen there to pick up the slack for him. Jonathan Jakobs is at the point in his career where it is the best it is ever going to get. There is nothing more for him ... so he can enjoy this final week of riding along in the passenger's seat of my success. Because after I walk out of WAR as the World Champion ... I am not going to have any interest in carrying him along any longer.
Seth only grows more uncomfortable listening to all of this. He squirms around in the chair over and over as if he would find a more comfortable position. But the reality was, he wasn't enjoying any of this at all. No amount of movement was going to change the direction of where this all was leading. Sarah plucks two more figurines off of the floor, setting them there on the level three platform. These depict both Night Rider and Denise D'Evil.
Sarah: And we're back to the 1980's again. You know, a good part of me wants to take Night Rider and place him down at level one ... because based on his in ring ability and the fact that he is yet another JOKE who has been here forever and has done nothing worth mentioning at all, he belongs there. However, the only reason he finds himself floating the mid cards instead of the shit scraped off of my shoe ... is because he was intelligent enough to find someone with more taLent than he has and find a way to break through from the bowels of curtain jerker Hell. Any remote bit of relevance Night Rider has seen in past months is due to Denise D'Evil. This is nothing new at all ... rookies walk in here and find themselves climbing the ladder while the evolutionary defunct amoeba remain settled in filth. I wonder sometimes how it must feel to be passed along constantly? To realize that things will never get any better for you at all. Night Rider must have felt this and he latched on to the first ticket he could get hold of and clung for dear life to be pulled out of the abyss. Denise? Despite the fact that she believes she is some kind of immortal being ... she had potential. The key word of course is HAD. Denise could have possibly ... not likely ... but possibly ascended up a rank or two among this pitiful roster. Instead, she chose to listen to the harping of a useless mold of flesh who somehow convinced her that he was her ticket to stardom ... rather than the other way around. Alone, Denise might have achieved something ... but dragging along a boulder behind her in the form of Night Rider has sealed her fate. She is as far up the ladder as she is ever going to get. Night Rider was sure to cut the rungs above her current position to ensure she would remain stagnant alongside of him. Misery loves company, and Denise can only be judged by the company she keeps.
Seth lets out a yawn as he squirms a little more in his chair. This entire evaluation process was taking quite a bit of time. Sarah, however was relentlessly carrying on with the task at hand. To look over the entire WCF roster and see each and every one of them for what they are was consuming her. Seth couldn't see it as she was facing away from him, but she was nearly frothing at the mouth as the way a Lion would lick its lips as it sat in the brush, stalking a herd of Gazelle. With an iniquitous satisfaction she lays out her index finger to motion the left of the platform once more. This, the fourth box up from the very bottom. Her tone very mellow now ... gone was the anger and disdain caused by her overall thought of the roster in its entirety. It seemed as though the more she spoke of the opposition, the more confident that she grew. Each new figurine just another carcass to be laid at her feet. Her words are tapered with an impetuous spite such as she has long enjoyed.
Sarah: As we continue to wander through the shallow existence of the mid card, we find the next set of disappointments to hover just above those we'd just mentioned. This is level four of the WCF roster. These individuals either have the potential to possibly work their way up ... but so far they have not. Or they are individuals, who at one time were of more stature ... but have faded off into this existence. Perhaps they were at one time talented ... and that manages to keep them afloat, but for how long? Some of those who reside here will never see a better day. This level of our roster ... is a crossroads. Where the past and the present intersect. Where determinations of new success are made ... and the flames of careers that once were bright settle to flicker out and die.
She reaches down onto the floor and grabs hold of another pair of caricatures from the strewn out pile. These are of John Gable and Benjamin Atreyu. She sets them on the fourth step up on the platform. She never once looks back at Seth, who is idly pressing away at buttons on his phone once again, contorted in his seat in a rather unusual fashion just to try and gain some comfort for the long journey through this action figure adventure.
Sarah: John Gable could legitimately be a contender around here. That is, if he stopped allowing Waylon Cash to drain the life from him. For a man who is so well informed on the art of motion picture production ... at almost every aspect, he fell for the pitch. The pitch that Waylon Cash and his imaginary Puff the magic dragon friend Scott Savage fed to him. He was played like a fiddle and he doesn't even know it yet. He spends his time mixing it up with Cheetahs and sideshows, when he could be on his way to a permanent main event position. His own ignorance is what has extinguished any spark of hope he may have had. He chooses to blindly follow the lead of a man who has been able to produce nothing more than a kaleidoscope of fairy tales. Gable hangs onto every word as if through the mediocrity of his partners, he may somehow break free and rise to the occasion. That is never going to happen for him because he has allowed his final casting call to pass him by. There are many others willing to take the part ... and they line up to grasp hold of the opportunities he has allowed to slip between his fingers. The most pitiful aspect of all of this ... he doesn't even realize that it's happened. He holds out hope that his blockbuster hit is just a few more auditions away. In all actuality, Waylon Cash has taken each of those opportunities for himself ... and he wasted them. Gable is left to settle in the dust of a career that could have been ... and is not. Much like his failed attempts at finding himself on the Silver Screen, he has failed at finding himself a place of his own on this roster.
Sarah shakes her head for a brief moment. But she is not one to have sympathy for the failings of others so she moves right along to the final remaining member of S-PAC.
Sarah: This leaves us with Benjamin Atreyu ... another decent wrestler. Though he lacks the intelligence and fortitude to make anything of himself. He has barked on about change, and has carried on about reviving the profession. Now, he takes on the cause of whatever babbling bullshit that is fed to him. Atreyu have shown spurts of success ... and a desire to reach the mountaintop ... but when he fails to achieve what he desires, he throws in the towel. He suffered defeat during the WCF Classic at my hands ... and he walked away in sorrow. History repeated itself for him as he left the finals of the Trilogy Cup with agonizing defeat. Each and every time that he works his way to the top and shouts that inner voice "Hey, I'm here!" ... he only ends up short. He has all the tools needed to make something of himself ... but he lacks that one factor that could separate him from much of the rest. He lacks a true desire. He places forth the effort to get himself but so far ... and then he surrenders. Perhaps the idea of actual success is far too much for him to handle? Perhaps he knows that he can only attain so much before there is nowhere left for him to climb? He will never be at a level to consistently headline ... and so he knows that if he should ever possibly manage to come about victorious in one of the many tournaments he's entered .... that would be the end of the line for him. So he fails himself time and time again so that he may always have that one achievement to look forward to. Each time he fails, what does he do? He turns to go home and sit in his armchair for a few months, only to come back and try again once the memories of his failure have vanished from his innermost thoughts. And of course he just repeats the same process over and over ... and over. Pathetic.
Seth: Are we close to being done? Because ... I don't know how much more I can listen to.
Sarah turns and smiles ... almost appearing genuine. She nods her head at Seth.
Sarah: Oh, am I taking up too much of you're precious time? Sure. You can just run along to go watch Arrested Development or something.
Seth immediately hops up out of the seat with a premature sense of relief now.
Seth: Great! Thanks ... I mean it was uh ... fun. I think ...
Sarah stands up and the smile is wiped from her face. Her eyes narrow and she takes a step toward Seth.
Sarah: I believe we've gone over this, Lerch. This will continue until I let you know that it is finished. Understood?
Seth falls back into his seat and practically wants to blow his brains out at this point. He voices his disapproval of continuing.
Seth: I don't want to go over the roster. I know who's on the roster. You're going to win WAR ... I get it. You're the only one who matters and yadda yadda. Okay?
Sarah: I don't give a shit what YOU want to do. We are doing this MY way. And we're going to continue until it is complete.
She swipes her hand down at the floor now and grabs whatever action figure she manages to take hold of. She doesn't even bother looking to see who the replica was of as she tosses it toward the others on the fourth step. Here eyes still trained on Seth ... insulted by his whining. Finally she turns back toward his display to realize the action figure she'd just placed was Logan. Her eyes glimmer mischievously and a smirk curls on her lip.
Sarah: Oh isn't this cute now ...
She passively glances back at Seth who is tapping his foot against the floor, sunk down in the chair. He shakes his head at her.
Seth: Sorry, I don't agree with you there. Logan has won three WARS .. in fact every third WAR. And this one being WAR Twelve ... yeah, uh ... I don't agree with you.
Sarah: I really don't give a shit if you agree with me or not. You are a pale skinned NOTHING who doesn't know the difference in talent between Doc Henry and Slickie T. Your opinion means absolutely SHIT right now. Logan is --
Sarah pauses momentarily as something catches her eye. She looks down at the strewn pile of figures and starts moving a few of them aside as she notices one in particular. She reaches down ... in a furious anger and snatches it from the floor.
Sarah: What.the.FUCK.is.THIS?!
She holds the plastic doll up in her hand and shakes it in Seth's face with pure disgust. The figurine is an edition of Logan during the time where he believed he WAS Sarah. By the look on her face, the fact that a "Sarah Twilight" action figure was ever even considered to be produced is enough to make her want to vomit.
Seth: I ... well ... don't blame me! I didn't make it!
Sarah takes the figure in both of her hands and SNAPS it in two. She violently throws the broken toy into the trash container. Seth nearly has a heart attack.
Seth: Hey! I spent thirty five bucks for that on ebay!
She ignores his complaints and protests. She grits her teeth and breathes rather heavily amidst the seething anger that was beginning to boil over inside of her.
Sarah: I do not give a FUCK how many times Logan has won WAR. I don't give a shit how many times he has taken part in one. When you look back upon the unproductive history of this company it has turned out nothing in any past form worth mentioning today. At one time, Logan may have been the cream of the crop among the worms that you mis-packaged as talent. A time when talking about penises and shoving hotdogs in someone's ear for a cheap pop may have been enough to capture the attention of everyone within earshot. His deluded psyche and sick perversions may have been cause for celebration during those days. In fact, that was probably the best you had back then. How completely abhorring that the BEST you had to offer for your rinky dink shithole promotion was dick jokes and boudle bots.
She clenches her fists tightly, still looking forward at the display.
Sarah: I am going to take your foundation ... the very best of what is the shell of your past ... and I am going to crush him along with the rest. In one single night, everything that you have valued over these last ten years ... everything that you placed all of your stock into is going to be beaten beyond any form of recognition. Your face of treachery ... your golden boy ... your shining light of what you considered to be prosperity lives under the shadow of the greatest wrestler to ever lace up a pair of boots. Logan does not understand the concept of what a war ... a true war really is. He doesn't understand that they begin long before any shell casings have been expelled, long before any blood has been shed. A war begins as a single thought ... a single act of hatred that's purpose is only to fester and grow until it no longer can be contained. Logan is involved in a war that he does not even know that he is a part of. It is a war that he cannot win. A war that will leave him defeated on the battlefield ... his carcass ripe for the vultures. This war is a war that surpasses any WAR with which he has ever taken part. Logan is battling the war inside of himself that will rage on until he can no longer stand on his own two feet. His conscious thought and his subconscious cravings colliding at every waking moment of his insanity. In the end, Logan will lose this war ... the war that will ultimately lead him to realize that ... he can never be me. And as that realization washes over him ... and his eyes grow pale and his jaw unhinges to remain agape with awe, as his heart sinks and every aspiration within each fiber of his being have evaporated from him ... I will be there to drive the final nail into the coffin of his pathetic existence. I shall rip out his very soul and allow him to watch as it is cleaved from his carcass. In those final moments, Logan will understand what war truly is. And it will be too late for him.
She turns away from the display with a final burst of disgust for the man who laid his claim to the moniker "Mr. WCF." Her long red hair whips around in the instance that she turns away. By now, Seth had gathered some krazy glue from the desk drawer and was attempting to piece his thirty five dollar figurine back together. Sarah closes her eyes momentarily to remove the last hints of her animosity before proceeding onto the next. After a moment, those sparkling emerald take in the colors, shapes and sizes of the room once again, and she reaches down for another figurine. This one being Gravedigger. With the last of her enmity exhausted, she smirks as she looks upon the newest quarry to her evaluation.
Sarah: It would seem as though we are taking a trip down memory lane for you now, aren't we Seth? Gravedigger ... another one of those "WCF Legends." A man who has endured some of the most arduous battles in this company's history and yet ... where does he find himself now? You know, in truth I don't believe he knows. I mean, he's spent the last year or so with his lips firmly puckered up against Eric Price's ass cheeks. But where has that gotten him? Now, Eric is scrambling around, coping with the reality that he has always been a nobody ... and where does that leave Gravedigger? Perhaps he'll find his lips planted against my ass for the next year or so? No ... that isn't quite right. He has to maintain his dignity you know? I mean, how could he possibly change his opinion of me after spending so much time playing as a cheerleader for Eric? Oh ... I had almost forgot, he already has. Gravedigger will jump on any bandwagon that will keep his name mentioned by anyone. The fact that he enjoys these silly little diatribes between Doc Henry and Adam Young tell where he SHOULD be spending his time dwelling. But I suppose that he has another year or so with which he can rest on the laurels of his past success. And on that account, I will not deny his tenure. The man has had success here. But, there is that annoying little key word again that "Legends" don't like to hear, HAD. The real question is, what have you done for me lately? The answer to question is simple ... nothing.
Sarah sighs heavily as she shakes her head ... it almost appears to be in a sympathetic manner.
Sarah: For the record ... I don't mind Gravedigger. He and I ... along with a fucked up retarded munchkin formed a damn near unstoppable team last year for the Trios Cup. I have worked with Gravedigger on numerous occasions and he steps up to the plate every so often. I can credit him that much. What we don't want to see ... yet which is the current stretch for him, is for him to overstay his usefulness. Eventually there is going to come a time ... which will be much sooner than later, where those laurels he rests comfortably on now ... are no longer going to carry him. Right now, he sits above a great deal of the WCF Roster ... far from the position of his former years, but respectable enough for a career that in on its last legs. If he continues to allow his stubbornness to push him ... he is going to end up being remembered among the likes of those Doc Henry's and Adam Young's we have mentioned ... instead of being remembered as a Hall of Famer. So, when it comes down to it ... I am just going to have to put the old man out of his misery. It is about time he understood that he no longer belongs here in any type of competitive capacity.
Seth is shaking his head with disgust of his own at how Sarah regards the legends of the company that he once owned. The company he had built from the ground up. He grumbles a bit and it is clear that he is growing unhappier by the minute. Sarah takes an almost euphoric pleasure in selecting the next figurine from the dwindling pile. This one is none other than Eric Price.
Sarah: Kinda funny isn't it? How he is reinstated just before WAR. How he has that one final "hoorah!" to make everything about him?
She glances back at Seth for a brief moment ... a very callous gaze from her emerald eyes.
Sarah: I know that I am arrogant ... but fucking hell! I have never seen someone so insecure as to attempt to center the focus of every aspect of this company around himself. Not ... that I don't understand why he did it. He's average at best and it was only going to be a matter of time before everyone had forgotten him anyhow. I mean honestly ... if Jonny Fly hadn't decided to throw in the towel and sell him the company ... no one would even remember who the fuck he is today. Each and every week he harped on about respect, and about fairness and whatever other bullshit he could spout. Thing in, he didn't have the BALLS to do a fucking thing about any of it himself. It may have been called "Eric Price Pro Wrestling" but he sure as hell wasn't in charge of anything. What kind of man actually believes he deserves ANYONE'S respect when he pisses himself on live television? What kind of a man believes he deserves respect when he is incapable of fighting ANY of his own battles? I know the first thing that will be said ... Bravado assaulted him like rabid animals. The difference here is ... I am MORE than capable of handling things on my own. Eric, he was shown the door in the same way that he was introduced to it. He has been nothing but dead weight and a hindrance to every aspect of this business.
Seth: Did we really have to demolish him like that? I don't see how it was necessary.
Sarah: WE did nothing ... I grew tired of Eric's stupidity. I grew tired of his bitching and his whining. Everything that he had ... everything that he had become was due to me and me alone. The existence of his success was because I ALLOWED IT! Without me ... Eric Price would have remained somewhere lost in the mixture of bodies with Jonathan Jakobs. He can declare his love for me ... tell me that I broke his heart, that I used him. I don't care. The fact is, emotion ... feeling ... caring ... all of that has no place in this business whatsoever. Those are the type of thoughts and the type of actions that create weakness. Eric Price is weak ... and he always was. He sought power through wealth and grew accustomed to having anything that he wanted on a whim. All he has had to do was purchase anything his heart desired. True power is amassed by force. I have TAKEN what I have wanted, I have TAKEN where I saw fit and I have set an example that echoes throughout every last hall and corridor backstage at every event. Sarah Twilight answers to no one. Eric Price was blinded by the WEAKNESS of his emotions and he saw me in the way that he WANTED to see me. I have no remorse for what I did. I simply eliminated the weak that hampered progression.
She chuckles a bit now as a thought enters her mind.
Sarah: And how fitting that his final act of incompetence was to end up being the very first person who I will DECIMATE on Sunday! He will be the very first person to stand across the ring from me ... his blood will boil, and his heart will sink into his chest. He will have the rage of a thousand evils swirling around inside of him and he is going to unleash all of his emotion in an attempt to seek his revenge. And that is where he will fail. His blind furry will be his own undoing because where he has regret ... I have none. Where he has doubt ... I have none. Where he has the stinging pain of rejection and his fire of passion for the "love" he held for me ... I care nothing of him. He seeks vengeance ... I seek result. He looks for justice, I look to taste his misery. He believes that he must use every ounce of his being to defeat me ... for his own closure. I know that I will defeat him because he is inferior to me. Where he sees his new found strength in all of the bottled aggression and bitterness that he feels toward me, I see only more of his weaknesses with which to exploit. For him ... this is personal. For me? It is business. Eric Price enjoyed his moment for much longer than he should have. I allowed that to happen ... and I have taken it away just as quickly. Now, he can just settle in amongst the rest and understand his place.
She sets Eric's figurine in its 'place' on the fourth step. She smirks quite heavily as she turns away from the display. Seth arches up in his seat ... perhaps this was it? Maybe it was finally over. Unfortunately for him ... it was not. Sarah rises completely to her feet now and looks down among the cluttered mess of toys that remains.
Sarah: Well ... this next one is the fun part, Seth! The one I am quite certain you'll enjoy.
Seth: Uhm ... okay?
Sarah: The next portion of out company wide evaluation is let's guess who will show up to try and capture some past glory? The individuals who THINK they are just going to walk into WAR out of the blue and take away the win. I call this Level X simply because ... well no one knows, do they Seth? Honestly ... for the most part, no one gives a shit either.
Sarah grabs hold of the seat that James Sanderson had earlier sat in next to Seth and she slides it over beside the trash can. Sarah takes a seat in the chair and again rifles through the remaining toys. She grabs hold of several replica likenesses one after another. Synn, Vengeance, Kale Windsor, Hunter Valentyne, Trey Reed, Kaylyn James Evans, Matty Tapes, Tyler Derden, Izabella, Jason Kash, Wyatt Nolan, Mickey Page and several others. One by one she throws them into the trash container. Seth is scrambling to retrieve each one of them as she does.
Sarah: That is a bunch of "No one gives a fuck" if they show up for WAR.
She continues to dump several action figures into the trash. Occasionally she stops to offers some insightful comments on a few other the past athletes. She pulls the figurine of someone very familiar looking to Seth and possibly one of the oldest of the toys in his collection. She dangles it in front of him jokingly.
Sarah: Oh look! It's Mace, your first ever World Champion and the man who won the first WAR ... maybe he'll show up? If he wins ... he can give the championship away!
She laughs, before tossing the action figure into the trash behind the others.
Sarah: Probably not a good idea, huh Seth?
Seth is grumbling under his breath as he continues to take action figures from the trashcan. Sarah latches onto another figure and shows it to Seth.
Sarah: What about Dake Ken? Oh .. wait, he returned last year didn't he? How'd that one work out?
She cackles, tossing it into the trash. She takes hold of a pair of figures now and dangles them in the air.
Sarah: Oh! It's the Superfans ...annnnnnd NOPE!
Into the trash can they go. More figures are discarded into the trash as she plucks through each of the remaining caricatures. She comes across one that causes the mischievous sparkle in her eye to return. A redheaded figurine of a woman ... Seth instantly recognizes the likeness as Anastasia Petrova. He reaches out to snatch the toy away from Sarah, but instead she pulls it away and laughs.
Sarah: You like this one, huh? I bet you do!
She continues to cackle as she seems to enjoy tormenting Seth with this one.
Sarah: That's too bad, Seth. Just some redhead that isn't me ... and nobody gives a shit about.
She flings it into the trash. Seth dives in after this one faster than any of the others. He pulls it from the trash and places it on the seat next to him to ensure that Sarah didn't get her hands on the figure again. He looks visibly upset at this point. Sarah just continues to go through the toys.
Sarah: Oh, would you look at this!
She holds out another figuring toward Seth. This one is a dual set of figurines ... well sort of.
Sarah: It's the missing Doc Henry action figure! And he's being Burning Hammered by Corey Black. Well .. at least it's accurate.
She tosses that figure to the side as well. The next one comes up and she tilts her head to the side for a moment.
Sarah: Jay Price. You know, the only thing that saves Jay Price from being the most pitiful World Champion in history ... is Waylon Cash? And coincidentally ... the only thing that saves Waylon Cash from being the largest gloat on mediocre accomplishment ... is Jay Price. I wonder what would happen if Jay ever actually put the bottle down for a day? He's wake up from his coma like, alcohol induced stupor and realize that he has to live with himself. Jay Price remains drunk for the same reason as most people. The reality of his life is too much to swallow. It would probably drive him to his death to know that he is truly that unimportant. He attaches himself to anyone who will give him the time of day JUST so that he can feel like he belongs. When that method of garnering approval failed him, he resorted to talking to himself. I suppose it's better than being alone? Jay Price is basically the butt of the joke in the locker rooms of WCF ... but he will never know, or comprehend that. So long as he can mask the pains of failure with alcohol, why should he? It is far easier for Jay Price to wander around in a comatose state and exist as average than it is for him to deal with being Jay Price.
She shrugs and tosses the figure aside, grabbing another. She swivels her lips to the side with a "Hrrm."
Sarah: Roy Speede? See Jay Price ... minus being completely wasted all of the time. Roy is too STUPID to understand that he isn't wanted let alone that he sucks. Roy is one of those guys that looks for ANY hint of recognition and he blows it the fuck out of the water. You could say "Hello" to Roy Speede and he'd come to the conclusion that you absolutely adored him. He is that guy that everyone knows for the wrong reasons ... and no one wants to admit that they do. Talk about the company that you keep? Roy Speede is a fucking disease ... and he's probably proud of it. He knows everything there is to know about nothing and will ramble on about it ... just for the sake of rambling. Plain and simple fact, Roy has NO talent and he never will. He's more like a circus clown ... except that when he does stupid shit, people aren't laughing with him, they're laughing AT him. Maybe he could rendezvous with Kaylyn James Evans in the "You disappeared and no one noticed" category. Fuck Roy Speede ... that fucking boudle.
The Roy Speede toy is tossed aside. With only a few selections remaining now, she pulls the next one from the diminished pile.
Sarah: Steve Orbit. The guy is a decent wrestler ... have never denied that. He is probably the most likely of the "X Level" competitors to show his face at WAR. The problem with Orbit is that he doesn't have this business as one of his priorities ... at least not where it should be. When things don't go how he had wanted them to ... he heads back to his bitches and booze. He feels as though he is king when he is in his element. Wrestling ... is not his element. So he'll sit back at the beach sipping Mai Tais and soaking up the sun ... living the life. But anyone who has ever stepped foot in the ring will tell you ... it doesn't take long for that itch to start creeping up again. It's probably why people at the bottom of the barrel just won't leave ... and it is why Steve Orbit will find his way back into the ring, sooner than later. Am I bitter about what happened at Ultimate Showdown? Not in the slightest. I do NOT like to walk away from a fight on the losing end ... and I do NOT like Steve Orbit. In fact, I really can't stand the fucker, but at Ultimate Showdown ... he did get my respect. He took advantage of an opportunity ... something that I myself would have done. He saw an opening and he took it. For that ... well I can respect that. However, that only means that I have adapted myself to the situation.
She nods her head a few times as she considers another confrontation between the two of them.
Sarah: I am not looking for a wrestling match with Steve ... I am looking for a FIGHT. I am looking to rip him limb from limb and leave him broken and battered at my feet. I do not seek to do this out of revenge ... but out of purpose. I will leave no question in his mind ... no inkling of doubt that I am superior to him and every last member of this roster. I will maim him so decisively, that he will understand what kind of a predator that I am. Steve Orbit is man ... a man whom has another life to escape to each and every time he faces the shortcomings of this business. I do not have the need for alternate lives ... I thrive here and I will continue to thrive long after someone like Steve Orbit is gone. This is my purpose and stepping into that ring is like walking into my own personal playground. I've allowed Steve Orbit to share it once ... but not again.
Sarah stands up for a moment after going over the possible "X Factors" for this year's WAR. She takes a deep breath, now growing tired of the evaluations in her own right. But we have nearly reached the end ... and she would not stop until she had. Just like on Sunday, she will not stop until every last competitor is dispatched, and she is the only one left standing. Sarah walks to the display platform and places her finger on the fifth step ... it is the closest one to the very top step. She turns back to Seth who is still gathering up his discarded toys and she smirks.
Sarah: Level Five .... these are your "heavy hitters", Seth. I think the evaluation here is pretty simple. They can get things done in the ring ... a good deal of the time. But when it comes down to it ... they each still fall short of being the very best that this company has to offer. Now, I'm sure you'll differ with me on these because ... well I don't fucking care why. Anyhow, here are your personal favorites.
She picks up one of the remaining figurines and sets it on the platform. It is the depiction of the current WCF World Champion Nathan von Liebert.
Sarah: Nathan, by all accounts falls somewhere along the lines of a level three ... or four at best. Though he enjoys this position solely based on the fact that he is the current World Heavyweight Champion. Nathan von Liebert is everything BUT a champion. A fighter? Sure. A brawler? Absolutely. A wrestler? Hardly. A champion? Not a fucking chance. The last we saw of Nathan before he vanished into obscurity was him having his shoulder pinned to the mat by Doc Henry ... Doc fucking Henry! That is disgraceful. And finally ... finally he finds himself at the top of the mountain ... and what have we heard from him? Not a fucking thing. Nathan is sitting in his hotel room right now, scared out of his fucking mind about walking into WAR. For as big a bad ass as he pretends to be ... there lies nothing more than a coward inside. He is not a beast, he is only a man ... a man who sees the last moments of his life flashing before him. He too will fall at my hands just like he has on the previous occasions we have met inside of the ring. Nate would like nothing more than to distance himself from this brutal contest ... I embrace it. He is unaware of how to survive in this situation .. whereas I thrive in it. The opportunity that has been given to Nathan is something far beyond anything he is capable of. To walk into WAR as the World Champion and leave victorious is something that is only attainable by the very best that this profession has to offer. Nathan von Liebert is NOT that person. In the end, he may take solace in the fact that it shall be my arm raised in victory ... just as it has each and every time before during our encounters. He'll just have to deal with the cold, hard facts that he isn't cut from the same mold.
Seth: Uh ... I think his chances are pretty good actually.
Sarah: And at what point during this conversation did I care about what you think?
Seth sighs and shrugs, shaking his head in the chair.
Sarah: Nathan von Liebert fell into a moment. It is a moment that will outshine him because he isn't ready. This isn't one of his battles with someone who cannot defend themselves. He doesn't have an advantage here. This is WAR ... and in war ... everything is fair. I don't care if I have to put him ... and the forty something other people that are going to stand in my way into the fucking GROUND! If that is what I have to do ... that is what I WILL do. Nathan? He talks about everything that I actually DO. Now its time to step up to the plate and he is going to strike out just like everybody else. I hold no alliances or allegiances to him or to anyone else. This is MY moment ... Nathan stands in my way and for that he will suffer just the same as anyone else.
Abruptly, Sarah abandons any further mention of Nathan and grabs one of the VERY few remaining toys on the floor. She places it on the platform beside Nathan's. This figurine ... is Jonny Fly.
Sarah: Jonny Fly ... the one person with whom I have competed which I have never defeated. Even the "great" Jonny Fly has his flaws ... and the crust that has kept them hidden for so long have begun to crumble around him for quite some time now. Everyone assumes that Jonny Fly will again rise to the occasion ... and that it's a done deal. They assume WRONG. This isn't Jonny Fly's dance ... it's mine.
Seth: If you say so.
Sarah laughs at the comment and brushes Seth off completely.
Sarah: Fly is not the same man who made you drool all over yourself in awe last year. He has been on a downward spiral ... while I have continued to move forward. The man has gone from World Champion ... to beating the shit out of your scrawny ass in the ring. And he's coasted along with his quips and his quirks, flashing a smile as he continues to tell himself that he is still "that guy." But he isn't. I recall the times when everyone would sing the praises of his legacy ... "Jonny Fly would never surrender." " Jonny Fly would never throw in the towel." Well, Jonny Fly turned and WALKED AWAY because he knew that his time in the limelight was OVER! There was no more "Era of Fly." And he couldn't stand the thought of it. So he tucked his tail and walked out.
She turns away for a moment as she rests with her own thoughts. The is no hint of anger, nor resentment. Sarah Twilight is a vicious, sadistic woman full of hate ... but she is an intelligent competitor first.
Sarah: Fly is a competitor ... like I am. He is always going to remain above the shit that makes up the majority of this roster. That does not mean that he is the same man that I stood in the ring with last year. Nor am I the same woman. I will not make the same mistakes that I made in my third match with this company. I do not "underestimate" Jonny Fly. I understand that is is a capable competitor ... and I understand the lengths to which he will go in order to achieve victory. Where my advantage lies ... is that while I have tasted a defeat suffered at his hands ... he has not. He is going to be arrogant, much in the manner that I was last year. Everything inside of him is going to tell him that he is going to end up with that same result, and that is where he will fail. Jonny Fly underestimates me ... and therefore he is not prepared. He is looking to contend with the very same person he did over a year ago ... and that is NOT what he has awaiting him. I have waited for this entire time ... I have moved forward and I have achieved everything that I have set out to accomplish. The ONE thing that I have yet to conquer is Jonny Fly. And while that may appear to be a strength for him ... it is actually his biggest weakness. Jonny Fly doesn't need this as much as I do. Jonny Fly doesn't understand the depths that I am willing to go to in order to defeat him. He has waltzed his way back in here and prepared for an entire roster by tossing around some nobody last week. Meanwhile I have been preparing for Jonny Fly for over a year.
She walks a few steps away, looking through the blinds out of the window as she clasps her hands together behind her.
Sarah: I don't need quips ... I don't need to paradize the accomplishments that Fly has achieved. It would be easy for me to harp on about how he lost to Jay Price. I can easily pick apart each one of the things that he has accomplished here. That isn't going to put his shoulders to the mat in defeat. What will put his shoulders to the mat is the fact that I want this more than he does. I didn't come this far to walk away empty handed. Sure, I make the decisions around here ... and I could easily do whatever I wanted to ensure that I walk out as the World Champion. But before all of that I am a fucking competitor. WHEN I walk out of that match as the World Champion ... it will be based on the fact that was willing to go further than ANYONE ELSE in order to hold that distinction. That includes Jonny Fly. He can hand out whatever tag lines he'd like ... he can ramble on and on, smile and call it a day. I am showing up to FIGHT. And it is a fight that I do NOT intend to lose. Everyone is capable of being defeated, and that includes Jonny Fly. When the dust settles, one thing is for certain ... Jonny Fly is never going to be the same man after WAR. I guarantee you that.
Seth: Well uh, I wish you the best of luck!
Sarah turns back from the window and in a very calm voice she replies to Seth.
Sarah: I don't need your luck.
She takes the next to last figure and places it on the platform beside Jonny Fly. This one if of course, Bobby Cairo.
Sarah: There is not a man, myth or legend who is going to stop me from walking out of WAR as the World Champion. I don't really care what agenda that Bobby Cairo has. He enjoyed his tenure here six years ago and he has settled down for another ride. The rumors and the stories that are told in the hallowed halls of any WCF arena tell the story. Bobby Cairo is about as capable a competitor as they come. But he has never stood across from a competitor like me. I couldn't honestly tell you what the outcome would be should we ever clash in a one on one collision. I am as unfamiliar personally with his ring prowess as he is mine. What I CAN tell you, is that in this predicament ... there is not a person alive who can stand between me and the World Championship. This includes Bobby Cairo. If he wants to sit me down for a history lesson, or tell me about the brutalities he has witnessed throughout his lifetime ... that will have to wait for another time. I don't care about Bobby Cairo's past, present or future here. The only future I care about places the WCF Championship around my waist. I will gladly go through Bobby Cairo along with everyone else. The only thing Bobby needs to understand is that he is going to be in for a fight ... and it very well may be a fight for his own life.
Sarah reaches down and grabs the very last figurine from the pile. It is her own likeness. She looks down at it with a smirk, shaking her head as the contours and features melded in plastic were sub-par. Though an action figure was never meant to be a perfect representation. She looks over the tint of color for her long red locks of hair, and the coloring of the eyes on the figurine. The painted logo on the tee-shirt that bares her very own moniker "The Only One." Despite the toy not being a perfect miniature representation ... the craftsmanship was all there. Every last detail on the clothing was intricately brushed on. She gives the action figure a few more moments of study before placing her own figurine on the very top of the platform above all of the rest. She takes a few steps back to look upon the Levels of WCF before walking back around to the side of her desk.
Sarah: I don't care about any of this, you know?
She motions around the office as Seth looks on. His arms folded and he has gained a second wind of sorts being as it appeared this meeting was finally coming to a close.
Sarah: This being owner bullshit. It doesn't matter to me. I don't care about this roster ... I really don't. I don't care about making things any better for them. They mean nothing to me. I don't care about Bravado or who does what around here. I eliminated the rules ... because I don't care enough to bother with them. I can own this company ... I can do whatever the fuck I please and nothing has changed for me. I have ALWAYS done what I please. So this ... all of this ... it means nothing to me. The only thing that matters to me at all ...
Sarah turns to the wall on her right and she reaches up and removes the replica WCF World Championship belt she had been given at the close of her reign to acknowledge her accomplishment. She holds it in her hands and she stares at it for a long while. Her own engraved name staring back at her as a reminder. She never looks back up at Seth. She just continues to stare down at the championship she had worked so hard for, for so long.
Sarah: This is all I have ever cared about. To look at it and KNOW that without any question you are the greatest wrestler in the world. And that's just it ... even without it, I KNOW that I am the greatest wrestler in the world. I KNOW that my passion is stronger than anyone else's. I don't need approval from the sheep, I do not need a pat on the back or someone to tell me that I am great ... I just know it. I've always known it. I am at a level all on my own. It is a level that not any one of your past or present roster can match. It is the very desire that I have burning inside me every waking moment of my life. It is something that no one else has. Not Jonny Fly, not Logan, not Bobby Cairo. So when I am presented with the opportunity to step into the ring with every last competitor that we have, from the shit, to the mediocre, to the part timers and the has beens. The legends and those who can actually stand as competitors themselves .... when I can stand in that ring and surpass them all. Outlast every one of them and hold this high as the symbol of everything I have worked for ...I am going to go to unimaginable lengths in order to attain that. I don't care if I have to drag each and every last one of them to the depths of HELL along with me ... I will walk out of WAR as the WCF World Champion.
Seth remains seated as Sarah begins to pace back and forth still holding the championship of her former reign in her hands ... never once taking her eyes from it.
Sarah: I have continued to strive for everything that I have EARNED during my career. I EARNED the right be called the very first woman in WCF history to win the Classic. I have EARNED the title as the first and only woman to hold the World Championship. I have EARNED my place and I will continue to earn it. I will be the first woman to win the WAR match ... and in doing so I will become a two time WCF World Champion. This is where I thrive ... this is where I excel. Everyone expects to win ... hell, you and Eric began MARKETING the fucking thing as "separating the men from the boys." The ads that have run have all mentioned that only one MAN can walk out of WAR as the winner. I absolutely LOVE it when someone tells me that I can't do something. I find that is when I am at my very best. They told me that I couldn't win the classic ... and I did. They told me I would never be world champion ... and I was. Tell me that I can't win WAR? I WILL!
Finally she sets the championship down upon the desk in front of her and she takes a seat where she had originally began the afternoon. She folds her hands neatly in front of her and smiles ... almost sarcastically as she looks at Seth.
Sarah: This is not a man's sport any longer, Seth. I have taken every notion of that away ... and I continue to do so. This is going to be the first time that I walk into WAR ... and it is going to be the only time that I need to because I am leaving with nothing less than victory and the WCF World Championship. Anyone who believes differently is living in a fool's paradise.
Seth nods his head and looks completely exhausted at this point. He leans forward in the chair and with every fleeting desperation he pleads.
Seth: Are we finished now?
Sarah smirks as she looks back down at her desk and begins to nod slightly.
Sarah: Mmhmm. We are.
Seth: Oh thank God! Well this whole thing has been great. And I'm sure you're going to do awesome at WAR. Anyway, gotta go!
Seth wastes no time at all in darting up from the chair and making a mad dash for the door. Though his hopes are crushed one last time as he tugs at the handle to make his retreat.
Sarah: Oh and Seth? One more thing ...
Seth's face sinks. He turns around with a miserable hue around his eyes and his drawn out features call out in angst.
Seth: What? What more do you want from me?
Sarah looks up, hands still folded and she smiles warmly at Seth. Almost ... too warmly.
Sarah: I know exactly how it is that Eric wound up being rehired. I don't understand how people think they could hide something like that from me.
Seth turns ghostly pale at this point. He fumbles for words.
Seth: Sarah I ... that had nothing to do with --
Sarah: I don't want to hear it. Following WAR, and my crowning as the NEW WCF World Champion ... you and I will have a little chit-chat, okay? Now you take care of yourself, Seth.
With that, she dismisses him. Seth quickly makes a hasty retreat into the hallway. Sarah remains at her desk where her gaze once again falls upon the World Championship. Every moment ... every drop of blood, every drop of sweat and every tear that has ever stained the mat on her behalf runs fresh in her mind. This is WAR ... and in WAR ... only the strong survive. We fade to black.