Post by Deleted on Jan 11, 2014 22:56:37 GMT -5
Somewhere over the sun beaten soil of South Carolina, Scott Savage's private jet flies at 500 miles per hour. It moves amongst the clouds like an ebony falcon, soaring over an almost invisible land mass. Inside the aircraft, Waylon Cash sits in a padded seat, covered in a black leather skin. He leans back, his feet up on the small table in front of him. He picks some dirt from under his fingernails, not looking at the camera while he speaks.
Waylon:Waylon Cash can take a lotta shit... and I have. I been buried, slandered, bullshitted and just plain beat. I been treated like I wasn't nothin' by jackasses who weren't fit to lace my boots. I done been through it all, and it's all been worth it. Management's seen my quest, and they've decided to help. They handed me two of the worst wastes of roster space at once. It's gonna be beautiful. Just like D-Day, I'm gonna make sure these assholes don't waste no more of anyone's time. As far as I'm concerned, the Diaz brothers are my number my arch enemies right now. Every wakin' second of my week's been dedicated to destroyin' the Heckle and Jeckle of WCF, and I'm gonna make it somethin' to see.
Waylon takes his feet off the table, and leans forward. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small glass vial, and a pack of rolling papers. He lays one of the small slips of paper on the table, and unscrews the cap of the container. He pours a small amount of green and purple plant matter into the crease of the folded paper, and then recaps it. Slowly, he begins giving shape and life to the fledgling spliff.
Waylon:Boys... I'm an artist. I paint these beautiful pictures, only I don't use paint. I use violence. I get between those ropes, and the pain I bring is so epic, people can't help but watch. It's a priceless painting that only lasts as long as the match, and then it's gone. It might sound weird to some people, but I look forward to it every week. This week, I'm lookin' forward to it extra. My crusade continues, with a masterpiece painted in the blood of the Diaz brothers. That ain't nothin' compared to the projects I got comin' in the future, but I think the critics are gonna dig it.
Waylon finishes the joint, and slides it between his lips, lighting it with a flick of his silver Zippo. He inhales deeply, causing the end of the white stick to glow a bright orange. He holds the smoke in for a minute, before spitting it out amongst a barrage of coughs and wheezing. Once he regains himself, he goes back to pointedly not paying attention to the camera.
Waylon:I don't think you boys understand the full scope of what you're gettin' into. There may be two of you, but you gotta understand how I see that. I don't see it as two men fightin' me. I don't see it as a bigger challenge. All I see is twice as many bones to break. This might be a handicap match, but I think you two are at a disadvantage. Yeah, you're two professional wrestlers, but you're two professional wrestlers tryin' to fight a damn hurricane. I don't think it's gonna end real well for you two.
Waylon rises from his seat, and begins walking around the cabin of the aircraft. A few more chair and table sets like Waylon's dot the pristine, white carpet. Their black leather covers and silver trim shining in elegant contrast to the simple white of the walls.
Waylon:Boys, take a good look. This is how you live when you matter. I'm in a private jet, on my way to North Carolina. After this nice, relaxin' flight, I'll be more than ready to send you both to the unemployment line. I hope you think about that when you're sittin' in the back of whatever shitty Greyhound bus you're ridin' in on. Think about how Waylon Cash matters, and how in two weeks, no one's even gonna remember your name. Enjoy what time you got left, because hurricane Waylon is headed straight for you.
Roxxanne Savage shuts off the camera, as Waylon raises the joint to his lips, and takes another deep hit.
Roxxy:Not bad baby. Wish you hadn't waited until we were on our way to the arena, but better late than never.
Waylon:Shit, they were barely worth what I gave them. I'm gonna go check how Scott's doin'. You all set back here?
Roxxy:Yeah, I'm just gonna edit the video and put it up.
Waylon gives his fiance a thumbs up, before opening the cockpit door, and sliding into the co-pilot seat. He looks over to see a relatively stressed out Scott Savage behind the wheel.
Waylon:You alright Beast?
Scott:I'm fine, just a bit nervous. I haven't had my pilot's license that long, so I'm not as confident as I would like to be.
Waylon:That makes one of us. I'm gonna come down like an atom bomb on the Diaz brothers. It's gonna be nasty.
Waylon lets out a chuckle, before taking another hit.
Scott:I don't understand why you even agreed to this match. It doesn't raise your profile, and as easy as you think it may be, there's still the risk of injury. I just think it's a lot of risk for a little reward.
Waylon:You kiddin' me? It don't matter if it's the Diaz dipshits, beatin' two guys at once is somethin' that's guaranteed to raise my profile. That's an accolade you can put on a resume.
Scott:Not sure in what business that would be applicable, but I'm sure my resume isn't as interesting as yours. Look, just stay safe. Don't take any stupid risks, and come out the other end in one piece. We have big plans for you, and I don't want them messed up because you like taking matches you have no business taking. This is going to be the Gathering all over again if you're not careful.
Waylon:The Gathering wasn't my fault, and you know it. Don't worry about ym safety. I ain't even gonna break a sweat. What you should be worried about is what we're gonna do once WCF fires me for injurin' too many of these talentless ass hats they call wrestlers.
Scott:Another thing... do you think this crusade is really the best way to go? I mean-
Waylon:That's bigger than me. My crusade is about savin' the sport I love from assholes who got no business steppin' into the ring. It started with D-Day, and it continues with the douchebag brothers. That's all there is to it. Now let's land this baby and start kickin' some ass.
Scott:We're still roughly an hour away.
Waylon:... well ok then. Let's fly for another hour, then let's land this bitch and kick some ass!
The men share a chuckle, as Waylon takes another hits. Visions of his future violence dance in his head, making him grin from ear to ear with anticipation.
Waylon:Waylon Cash can take a lotta shit... and I have. I been buried, slandered, bullshitted and just plain beat. I been treated like I wasn't nothin' by jackasses who weren't fit to lace my boots. I done been through it all, and it's all been worth it. Management's seen my quest, and they've decided to help. They handed me two of the worst wastes of roster space at once. It's gonna be beautiful. Just like D-Day, I'm gonna make sure these assholes don't waste no more of anyone's time. As far as I'm concerned, the Diaz brothers are my number my arch enemies right now. Every wakin' second of my week's been dedicated to destroyin' the Heckle and Jeckle of WCF, and I'm gonna make it somethin' to see.
Waylon takes his feet off the table, and leans forward. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small glass vial, and a pack of rolling papers. He lays one of the small slips of paper on the table, and unscrews the cap of the container. He pours a small amount of green and purple plant matter into the crease of the folded paper, and then recaps it. Slowly, he begins giving shape and life to the fledgling spliff.
Waylon:Boys... I'm an artist. I paint these beautiful pictures, only I don't use paint. I use violence. I get between those ropes, and the pain I bring is so epic, people can't help but watch. It's a priceless painting that only lasts as long as the match, and then it's gone. It might sound weird to some people, but I look forward to it every week. This week, I'm lookin' forward to it extra. My crusade continues, with a masterpiece painted in the blood of the Diaz brothers. That ain't nothin' compared to the projects I got comin' in the future, but I think the critics are gonna dig it.
Waylon finishes the joint, and slides it between his lips, lighting it with a flick of his silver Zippo. He inhales deeply, causing the end of the white stick to glow a bright orange. He holds the smoke in for a minute, before spitting it out amongst a barrage of coughs and wheezing. Once he regains himself, he goes back to pointedly not paying attention to the camera.
Waylon:I don't think you boys understand the full scope of what you're gettin' into. There may be two of you, but you gotta understand how I see that. I don't see it as two men fightin' me. I don't see it as a bigger challenge. All I see is twice as many bones to break. This might be a handicap match, but I think you two are at a disadvantage. Yeah, you're two professional wrestlers, but you're two professional wrestlers tryin' to fight a damn hurricane. I don't think it's gonna end real well for you two.
Waylon rises from his seat, and begins walking around the cabin of the aircraft. A few more chair and table sets like Waylon's dot the pristine, white carpet. Their black leather covers and silver trim shining in elegant contrast to the simple white of the walls.
Waylon:Boys, take a good look. This is how you live when you matter. I'm in a private jet, on my way to North Carolina. After this nice, relaxin' flight, I'll be more than ready to send you both to the unemployment line. I hope you think about that when you're sittin' in the back of whatever shitty Greyhound bus you're ridin' in on. Think about how Waylon Cash matters, and how in two weeks, no one's even gonna remember your name. Enjoy what time you got left, because hurricane Waylon is headed straight for you.
Roxxanne Savage shuts off the camera, as Waylon raises the joint to his lips, and takes another deep hit.
Roxxy:Not bad baby. Wish you hadn't waited until we were on our way to the arena, but better late than never.
Waylon:Shit, they were barely worth what I gave them. I'm gonna go check how Scott's doin'. You all set back here?
Roxxy:Yeah, I'm just gonna edit the video and put it up.
Waylon gives his fiance a thumbs up, before opening the cockpit door, and sliding into the co-pilot seat. He looks over to see a relatively stressed out Scott Savage behind the wheel.
Waylon:You alright Beast?
Scott:I'm fine, just a bit nervous. I haven't had my pilot's license that long, so I'm not as confident as I would like to be.
Waylon:That makes one of us. I'm gonna come down like an atom bomb on the Diaz brothers. It's gonna be nasty.
Waylon lets out a chuckle, before taking another hit.
Scott:I don't understand why you even agreed to this match. It doesn't raise your profile, and as easy as you think it may be, there's still the risk of injury. I just think it's a lot of risk for a little reward.
Waylon:You kiddin' me? It don't matter if it's the Diaz dipshits, beatin' two guys at once is somethin' that's guaranteed to raise my profile. That's an accolade you can put on a resume.
Scott:Not sure in what business that would be applicable, but I'm sure my resume isn't as interesting as yours. Look, just stay safe. Don't take any stupid risks, and come out the other end in one piece. We have big plans for you, and I don't want them messed up because you like taking matches you have no business taking. This is going to be the Gathering all over again if you're not careful.
Waylon:The Gathering wasn't my fault, and you know it. Don't worry about ym safety. I ain't even gonna break a sweat. What you should be worried about is what we're gonna do once WCF fires me for injurin' too many of these talentless ass hats they call wrestlers.
Scott:Another thing... do you think this crusade is really the best way to go? I mean-
Waylon:That's bigger than me. My crusade is about savin' the sport I love from assholes who got no business steppin' into the ring. It started with D-Day, and it continues with the douchebag brothers. That's all there is to it. Now let's land this baby and start kickin' some ass.
Scott:We're still roughly an hour away.
Waylon:... well ok then. Let's fly for another hour, then let's land this bitch and kick some ass!
The men share a chuckle, as Waylon takes another hits. Visions of his future violence dance in his head, making him grin from ear to ear with anticipation.
