Kayfabe/Defacing a War Poster
Sept 28, 2014 13:32:38 GMT -5
Zombie DankMorris, Alex Richards, and 2 more like this
Post by Steve Orbit on Sept 28, 2014 13:32:38 GMT -5
MEANWHILE, IN MIDDLE AMERICA...
Scene opens in a beautiful suburb somewhere. White picket fences everywhere. The camera settles upon one house in particular-- it's modest, non-descript. Just a nice home with a welcome mat and a two-car garage.
Inside the home, the front door opens-- "The Mack" Steve Orbit enters. He's carrying some luggage, and he's wearing some very plain clothes. Okay, it's a decent suit, but certainly not his normal flashy attire. He closes the door behind him.
Steve Orbit: Honey, I'm home!
Three young children-- two girls and one boy, roughly a year apart in age, run into Orbit's arms. Hugs and kisses all around. Then, a golden retriever runs up, jumping up and licking his face. Orbit is wearing a huge smile.
Steve Orbit: Gosh. I missed you kids so much!
A woman walks out from the kitchen-- she stands in the doorway, watching the heart-warming scene. Orbit looks up and makes eye contact with her. His smile grows even larger. The kids and dog run off, as Orbit approaches the woman. He hugs her tight, kissing her on the lips.
Steve Orbit: Oh, baby-- it's so good to be home.
As the camera switches, we realize that we recognize this woman. She is Tina, who was recently written out of Steve Orbit's storylines-- yet here she is. She touches Orbit's face.
Tina: It's so hard, not being on the road with my husband anymore.
Steve Orbit: I know, but the kids...
Tina: Shhh. I'm not complaining.
They smile at each other. Orbit's eye twinkles.
Steve Orbit: Let me put my things away. We've got company tonight!
Orbit's wife returns to the kitchen. Orbit walks upstairs, luggage in hand.
==
THAT NIGHT
Orbit is sitting on the couch, watching football with his family. The doorbell rings.
Steve Orbit: That must be them!
Orbit gets up and goes to the door. Standing there are ICE Beckman and another man who vaguely resembles Zombie McMorris-- if he was a regular, clean-cut guy. ICE and Z-MAC are looking dapper-- Z-MAC wears a knit sweater while ICE is wearing a shirt and tie.
Steve Orbit: Guys! So glad you could make it. Great to see you.
ICE and Z-MAC hug Orbit. Not the gangsta hug. A real, group hug with patting on the back.
Zombie McMorris: Thanks for having us, Steven.
ICE: How's the wife and kids?
Steve Orbit: Oh, they're GREAT, just great. Outstanding. Let's go, shall we?
Orbit leads ICE and Zombie into the living room. Zombie pulls out teddy bears for the kids. It's laughs and smiles all around.
Tina: Can I get you guys something to drink?
ICE: I'd love a ginger ale, thanks.
Zombie McMorris: I'll have an ice water-- with a lemon wedge, if you don't mind. Thank you so much.
Steve Orbit: I'm all set, honey.
Tina leaves to retrieve the drinks.
Steve Orbit: So are you guys pumped for War or what?
ICE: The Tag Match should be fun. I just LOVE Jonny Fly, and Corey Black is such a great guy. I'm really excited to work with them.
Steve Orbit: Oh, for sure. Fly has been like a brother to me, and Corey... well, he's just such a sweet guy. Really great person.
Zombie McMorris: Just last week, Corey and myself volunteered at the homeless shelter in Reading. Gosh, it was such a rewarding experience.
Steve Orbit: I hear you. I love volunteering my time to the less fortunate. It is one of my favorite past times, for sure.
Tina returns with the drinks.
ICE: I have to say, I'm a little disappointed that I won't be able to perform during the War match itself. It's great that Seth has enough confidence in me to be World Champion-- don't get me wrong, I'm grateful.
Zombie McMorris: There's always next year!
Steve Orbit: Right. And, jeez, it's dangerous out there. Too many bodies, you know, one miscalculation could end somebody's career. I'd hate to see anybody get hurt-- fingers crossed.
DING DONG
The doorbell rings. Tina goes to answer the door... after a few moments, Jonny Fly and Corey Black walk in the room. Fly is carrying flowers and a bottle of wine. Corey Black has a vegetable and dip platter. They place the gifts on the table, and proceed to shake hands with all three Vapor Kings. Orbit stands up and hugs both of them.
Steve Orbit: Welcome to my humble abode. So glad you guys could make it.
Jonny Fly: Wouldn't miss it for the world, buddy. The kids look great.
We almost don't recognize Corey Black. He has no beard and his hair is slicked back. Both Pantheon members are dressed very well-to-do. Corey Black is wearing a vest and slacks. Fly has a scarf tied around his neck and he's wearing penny loafers.
Corey Black: How's it going, fellas?
ICE: Great, we were just talking about how much we were looking forward to War and working with you guys.
Corey Black: Oh, us too. We were talking about it on the ride over. You guys are so talented, we just really love what you're doing.
Jonny Fly: Maybe later on, we can work on some spots for the tag match. I have a few ideas I want to run by you two, and hopefully we can get them practiced and set up-- you know my motto, safety first!
All five men laugh.
Steve Orbit: Oh Jonny, you're so thoughtful. Always thinking of others.
Jonny Fly: Well, what can I say. My parents taught me well.
Fly pops open the bottle of wine. He pours a glass for Orbit-- he stops him about half-way. He offers it to the other men.
ICE: No thanks, I'm driving.
Zombie McMorris: I'll stick with the water, but thank you very much for offering.
Corey Black: Hey, there's some stuff I've been thinking about lately. You guys mind if I get some things off my chest?
Steve Orbit: By all means, Core-Core. We're all friends here and we support each other.
Corey sighs, before opening up.
Corey Black: It's just... I'm tired of this gimmick, you know? It's been a long time with no change. Sure, I did the Creeping Death thing-- sick and twisted, it was so hard for me to really reach down deep and become that character. It's just not who I am as a person. And now? What am I, a Japanese Viking with Black tendencies? Does that even make sense? And the stupid beard, and the "heavy metal" music... gross! Just once, I'd like to be a normal guy from Minnesota. An all-American type of hero that the kids can really look up to. I keep asking creative, but you know how they are.
Steve Orbit: Oh, I sure do. I was... just really disappointed when they came up with this "pimp" gimmick. All these silly clothes I have to wear, and the cussing-- calling women... the b-word? What am I supposed to tell my daughters when they're old enough to understand?
Jonny Fly: Well, hopefully we'll all be retired by that point. I understand your frustration, though, Corey. I do. I'm tired of portraying some sex-crazed, selfish, egotistical criminal douche. And I've had enough of my corny-sounding finisher, the "Fly Swatter". Really? That's the best they could come up with? And my character is so one-dimensional. I never lose, in the ring or out-- even in my promos, I'm indestructible and I never get hurt. I just wish for once, I could play a character with real depth... someone with heart, and vulnerability-- like Brent Alpine.
Steve Orbit: I heard Alpine is gone for good.
Corey Black: Shucks! You don't say?
Zombie McMorris: Yes, I'm afraid it's true. Not everybody is built for this business.
All five men agree.
Jonny Fly: And another thing, I'd like to lose once in a while! I'd love to do a great comeback story. Even the fans are tired of seeing me win everything, I think. It takes the fun out of watching, when you know who's going to win every time.
Fly sulks.
ICE: You know, I can't really complain about what I'm doing at this point. I'm having fun with my character, and I can utilize my sense of humor, which I feel is a strength. I just wish I didn't have to be so... crude, and such a drug and alcohol abuser. Like you, Mister Black, I'd like to be more of a role model for the children.
Zombie McMorris: Really, guys? What about me? The "Coked Up Madman"? Do you know how difficult it is for a God-fearing man like myself to say some of my lines? By golly, the looks I get in my Wednesday Night bible study... it's shameful. But, you know, we all have a job to do. We knew what we got into when we signed up.
Steve Orbit: At the end of the day, guys, we can't complain. We get to go out there and act, and perform in front of millions. We have to best job in the world, I think.
All of the men agree. They raise their glasses.
All five: To good friends, and to WCF!
They drink.
ICE: So... have you guys heard anything about who's booked to win War?
Steve Orbit: Well, I don't want to spoil anything... and you know how Seth and creative are, constantly changing their minds up until hours before the show. But what I heard is...
BLURRY DREAM LINES AND HARP MUSIC FADE OUT
Scene transforms into a hotel room. "The Mack" Steve Orbit jumps up from a deep sleep. There's a bottle of Hennessy and a few pill bottles on the night stand. Two women in the bed next to him, passed out. Orbit looks around... and chuckles.
Steve Orbit: Now THAT was a weird ass dream.
Orbit smiles to himself, and lays back down, going back to sleep.
==
Scene opens in Steve Orbit's home office. It's decorated with lots of WCF memorabilia-- two replica World Titles, replica Tag Team titles, replica Television Title and United States title, as well as the actual Hardcore championship belt. There's also three plaques-- they read "World Champion of the Year 2013", "Wrestler of the Year 2013", and "United States Champion of the Year 2012". Besides those accolades, there are posters for various WCF PPVs featuring Orbit, the most prominent one is right behind his desk-- "Fly vs Orbit" from One 2013. Orbit sits in his swivel chair, and on his desk is the current promotional poster for the upcoming WAR XIII. On it, are the likenesses of every WCF superstar participating in the match. In one hand, Orbit twirls a thick black magic marker.
Steve Orbit: Let's face it y'all. You can't go into War without being prepared in every possible way. You goin' in there with thirty-plus people. Some of these mother fuckers will just look at it as a whole bunch of bodies that need to be taken out-- nah, homie. It's a bunch of various personalities, various strengths and weaknesses, various mother fuckin' motivations and agendas-- I need to know every one of 'em so I know what I'm really walkin' in to. Because we all want the same thing. We all want to be the one who wins War XIII-- sure, the title shot at One, that's a huge bonus, but the real prize here is being able to add a War win to the resume. There have been a couple of fluke wins, guys who just had one really good night but they ain't really lived up to it since-- *cough* Jeff Purse *cough*-- but mostly, when you win War, it is mother fuckin' confirmation that you are one of the baddest mother fuckers to ever step into a wrestling ring, WCF or otherwise. This is the single most grueling, testing, challenging match IN THE WORLD. And that makes winning War the single greatest accomplishment in this business.
It's time for Steve Orbit to accomplish that shit.
You know, I been gettin' calls all week for interviews, whatever, but I already know how it goes. I've seen everybody else gettin' put through the wringer all week by Hank Brown and whoever else. You sit down and do mother fuckin' word association like you a God damn mental patient-- Hank says a name, you say a short piece about the name. I can't be bothered with all that. So instead, I'ma sit here, and I'ma look at these mother fuckin' pictures of these niggas, and I'ma tell you what I think off the top of my head. This is tender, personal moments and inner thoughts of Steve Orbit. Y'all ready?
Orbit winks at the camera. He takes the magic marker and crosses off several faces.
Steve Orbit: Tobias Barnz. Isaac Salinger. Shawn Scholes. Louis Bartkowski. Just know... y'all have a place in War. Every War needs victims, casualties. One of YOU could be that fifth, sixth elimination that gives somebody a show-stealing performance. YOU could be that elimination. So don't feel like you goin' in like a lamb to the slaughter... well, nah. That's exactly what you are. Moving on.
Orbit crosses off two more faces.
Steve Orbit: Tyler Walker and biohazard. I hope y'all can work your shit out. Y'all need to go to fuckin' relationship counseling, for real. Serious. Tyler... er, Flyocker Flamer or whatever the fuck you callin' yourself now, you need biohazard. You guys ain't shit by yourselves, but as a team? Y'all a WCF staple, man. Y'all got that heart and soul shit, that odd couple shit. We love it. We love BioWalker. So PLEASE. Walker, forget about Fly. Trust me-- it ain't gonna end well. GO TO BIOHAZARD. GO TO HIM!
Orbit wipes a tear from his eye.
Steve Orbit: Dammit! Aight, that's enough about y'all--
Orbit looks at the poster.
Steve Orbit: Who the fuck is this? Night Rider?!
Orbit crosses off the picture with the magic marker.
Steve Orbit: Damn, I didn't even know Night Rider was comin' back for War. Where's your bitch, Rider? Where's Denise? Oh, don't tell me-- Denise left, so you thought you'd come on back to the well and try to find yourself another immortal type of bitch. Am I right? Got news, homie, since you left-- we found out a few of the girls were really guys, and there's only one female left on the roster. Chelsea Armstrong. And she's kinda sorta taken... by my Brother, ICE. You wanna take my Brother's girl, homeboy? I see what you tryin' to do. I'ma send you Ridin' back into the Night, for real.
Orbit shakes his head, mumbling. He looks at the poster again, crosses off another face.
Steve Orbit: Speaking of Chelsea Armstrong, here she is. One one hand, got love for her. We tagged together a few weeks ago, she scored the winning pin. I got love for what she can do in the ring. She's different from a lot of the bitches we had here in the past. She's just here to fight-- no drama, and I like that. I really do. And ICE, man, I see the way he looks at you. I mean, I look at you too, but not the way he does. I guess what I'm sayin' is... what happens if you win the War? Huh, Chelsea? I seen too many God damn relationships ruined over the World Title. Seen it happen, first hand. I refuse to allow that to happen to y'all. I have to stop you, Chelsea. I'd rather not be the one to do it, but if I have to, I WILL eliminate your ass. Pimp Slap if I have to. Just know I'm doin' it for your own good, to preserve what you got with my Brother. I'm doin' it for both of y'all. And I know what you're sayin'-- if I win, won't that fuck up mine and ICE's relationship? Look, we are brothers. We already faught over the World Title and it made our brotherhood STRONGER. We're family, there's no way to change that. It's different.
Orbit trails off and looks at the poster. He searches with the marker, and then crosses off another face.
Steve Orbit: Let's keep it movin' with Z-MAC. He may not be my brother like ICE is, but God dammit, he's as close as family. He's a real student of my father, Buddy Roman and I have to respect that. We'll see each other in the War, no doubt we'll help each other. What y'all don't know, is we'll fight each other like it ain't no thang. Buddy wouldn't have it any other way. This is a competition and, Zombie, may the best man win. I know, me, personally, I ain't gettin' fucked up before the War. I'm clear-headed for this mother fucker. Zombie, though, he ain't been clear-headed since he was... well, ever. The nigga was born with a silver spoon in his nose, you know what I'm sayin'? And that's fine, but Z-MAC... if it comes down to you and me, and we the last ones standin', and you the only thing that stands between me and the biggest win of my career-- I will fuckin' annihilate you. Don't think I'ma hold back... and I expect the same from you, homie.
Another face, another black X.
Steve Orbit: Alex Richards. This goofy mother fucker. Remember this?
Orbit points to the WCF Hardcore belt hanging on the wall.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, it's mine now. Technically, I took it from you. I am your successor. Damn, quite a jump there, ain't it? From a bottom of the barrel... Uncle Fester lookin' slob like you, to one of the greatest men to ever step inside a WCF ring-- me. I get that the fans like you, you headin' for a People's Title match-- see, people like when they look at somebody and it reminds them of theyself. That's why they hate a pretty mother fucker like me, but they love a fat retard like you. You represent the People, Alex, but that still ain't gonna get you through Chelsea Armstrong. When she beat Steeltoe Joe in a People's Title match... she proved to everybody that there ain't no body who can take that fuckin' belt away from her. She's gonna wreck you, man, I'll be surprised if you can still stand for War. And even if you are still standin', it won't be for long. I know it and you know it. Come on, it's just like Ultimate Showdown. You walked in with your big ass man-titty chest puffed out, and you walked out with your balls cut off. Neutered. And now you tryin' to, like, surgically put the balls back on and pretend you still got 'em, and you gonna do somethin' at War. You ain't gonna do shit, Alex, and neither is...
Orbit searches the poster with the marker... and crosses out another face.
Steve Orbit: Neither is Deuce Murdock. Another drug addict. What is it with these people? No, not white people-- WCF wrestlers. They all high on shit! If they ain't drunk off they ass, they poppin' pills, takin' all type of drugs...
Orbit pulls out his desk drawer. He opens a prescription pill bottle and pops one of the pills. He takes a rolled-up $100 bill and sniffs a line. He washes it all down with a sip from the Hennessy bottle.
Steve Orbit: Ahem, excuse me. As I was sayin'... what was I sayin'?
Orbit looks at the poster, trying to remember where he was.
Steve Orbit: Oh well. Guess they wasn't too important. Uh...
Orbit X's another face.
Steve Orbit: Ultimate Destroyer. You are neither. With your big ass, maybe you got that name from eating at buffets. I bet they kick you out after an hour, right? They show you some little asterisk next to "all you can eat" that says somethin' like... no fat people. I'm paraphrasing, but, you know what I'm sayin', when I was younger I'd blaze up the weed and walk into the Chinese buffet, and they kicked me and my homeboys out after an hour talkin' about we ate too much. Bitch, it's all you can eat! False advertising ass mother fucker.
Orbit mumbles something like "shoulda burned that place down" while he's searching for the next face. And there's the X.
Steve Orbit: Ok, Justin Cash. I know, we tagged last week, we beat some fools-- look, you got lucky. You was on the right team. You had STEVE ORBIT on your team. I don't know who you fuckin' cried to backstage to get on my team. You had Steve Orbit, Z-MAC and Chelsea Armstrong. We coulda won the match without you. We won the match IN SPITE of you, nigga. Did I tell you I can't stand mother fuckers named Cash? Except Johnny Cash, he was aight.
Another face gets crossed out.
Steve Orbit: Crazy Kaz Mazy! What's he supposed to be, a radio guy? He supposed to be wacky or somethin'? I don't really get it. I'll tell you what's crazy, you thinkin' you have a chance at winning War this year. Come on, Kaz Mazy-- how the fuck you even pronounce that? Mazzy? Mazy? Whatever, it don't matter. Kaz, let me give it to you Unfiltered-- I don't think you funny, I don't think you crazy... and you about to propose to your bitch, right? What's her name, Sophie? Sophia? You about to get a rude awakening, homie. You can't win War and you about to spend the rest of your life as a square. GOOD JOB. NEXT.
Orbit scans the poster, and finds another face to X out. Orbit grins, and then starts yelling "ALLAH-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA!!!"
Steve Orbit: Jahani al-Reb, the Baghdadi Mack. You bitch ass mother fucker. First, you come into MY country-- MINE-- and you tryin' to pop off at the lip about all the infidels eatin' bacon and shit. THEN, you REALLY fucked up-- callin' yourself some type of Mack. Nigga, you a spoiled rich boy who ain't never to hustle or get your hands dirty for nothin'. It takes more than some flashy clothes and a fly ride to call yourself a Mack, homie. I can't wait to see you in this match, I can't wait to show you how a REAL Mack gets down. I'ma Pimp Slap the fuckin' towel off your head, ho.
Orbit nods, feeling good about that one. He moves along... a face is crossed off.
Steve Orbit: And then there's Johnny Reb. Wait. Johnny Reb, Jahani al-Reb... nahhhh, it's nothin'. Couldn't be. Anyway, Reb, you got me a few weeks ago. I'm man enough to admit it, you beat me in a wrestling match. I won't sit here and make excuses-- it ain't the first time I've took a loss, but it was the LAST time I'ma take a loss from YOU. Reb, on one hand I respect you for the time and dedication you done put in to this company... on the other hand, what the fuck are you doin' here, still? Fuckin' with Doc Henry of all people? Last time around, you was in Pantheon. PANTHEON. Now, me and them boys ain't on the best terms right now, and I'ma get to them in a minute, but going from Pantheon to Doc Henry is a pretty big fuckin' free fall, homie. That's like one day you eatin' shrimp, steak, whatever, and the next day you eatin' ramen noodles-- without the fuckin' flavor pack! Just the raw ass noodles. Gross. Reb, you'd be better off just stayin' gone, yo. I know you was a former War winner-- and, shit, I can't say nothin' bad about that. Could you win it today? Not a fuckin' chance, but you did, once upon a time. That was your time-- 2014 is MY TIME. STEVE ORBIT'S TIME TO WIN WAR. I might eliminate you myself just to say I took an old War winner and fucked him up just because I could, just to prove that this is MY TIME. If you wanna be in YOUR TIME, get your ass in the fuckin' Ranchero, and GO. Just go! Go back to the good ol' days, Reb. Ain't nobody gonna miss you here.
Orbit quickly crosses off another face.
Steve Orbit: And your partner Doc Henry, I think I said enough about him already when I compared him to raw noodles, but shit-- this mother fucker is still around? Cock, it's time to go, man. Just take whatever is left of your dignity, man, and get outta here. There's nothing left for you in WCF, except for pain and mother fuckin' embarassment. When's the last time you did ANYTHING except get your ass whooped? Was there a time? I don't know. Ask Reb, he seem to know all about time, and shit. Whatever. Doc, don't get in my fuckin' way. I will have no mercy on you.
Orbit shakes his head. He finds another face. He puts a black X across the face.
Steve Orbit: Hyena. Is you a laughing hyena?
Orbit chuckles.
Steve Orbit: Oh yeah, I get it. You a badass animal, right? WCF already got a badass animal. His name is Honey Badger and he don't give a shit-- Hyena, if I was you, I'd stay the fuck away from Zombie McMorris. He gon' want his title back as the badass animal carnivore mother fucker around here. That's all.
Another face gets crossed off.
Steve Orbit: Let's talk about Buzz Worthy. What's the Buzz, Buzz? You know I ain't got no personal beef with you. Nobody does. You the fuckin' man. Hank, Freddy, let me tell you somethin'-- this is how a fuckin' reporter is supposed to handle themself. You work hard, be respectful, and then in return, mother fuckers will respect you and they'll want to give you stories and interviews. That's how the shit works. It's not about who can be the most annoying or ask the most questions... that being said, come on, Buzz. Wrestling ain't your thing, man. You're too pretty for this shit. I get that, you know, you been a fan for a long time, you probably one of those folks who thinks that, by WATCHING a lot of wrestling, you can go in there and do it. Am I right? Besides, Buzz, how many times you gonna leave and return? Huh? You literally don't know if you comin' or goin'. How you gonna win War like that? I applaud your Television Title win, that's a nice lil' belt, it is. But War? You ain't ready for this, Buzz. Bring a microphone-- not for interviews, for a weapon. I think you gonna need it.
Orbit quickly searches for another face and crosses it off.
Steve Orbit: Oh, and speaking of comin' or goin'-- the mother fucker Jeff Purse. I mean, look, I love what you did with Pantheon. I felt everything you was doin', man. When you superkicked Fly... my dick moved, homie. That ain't no gay shit, I'm just sayin', my testosterone was pumpin'. I wanted to go in there and kick him too. And I will-- I'll get to Fly, but Purse, my man. A man of the cloth? I never could have guessed it, man. Last I knew you was a daredevil, weed smokin', OCD-havin' son of a bitch. How can you fuck with God when you have OCD? Wouldn't you think everything is already in God's perfect order, so you shouldn't fuck with it? Or maybe you think it's your MISSION to straighten shit out, or even shit out, whatever-- because that's what God wants. Which one is it? Or are the rumors true, Purse? You really lose your shit after Kari left? You really go fuckin' mental? I know you was in the funny farm... yeah, it looks like you really lost it, homie. That's a shame. You was a good dude... but hey, if you wanna fuck up some Pantheon, I'm ready to go, any time.
Orbit looks at the poster, searching it with the marker. Over half of it is covered in black marker at this point. He finds another face and X's it out.
Steve Orbit: Let's keep the Holy Roller theme rollin' here with Steeltoe Joe. At this point, Joe, I almost feel sorry for you. Almost. You don't know if you friends with Pantheon, if you hate Pantheon, you tryin' to attack Fly, then you tryin' to attack my Brother ICE-- you're lost, Joe. Shit, I ain't never said this to anybody, but-- maybe you need to go to Church, Joe. I think you need some guidance, homie. You need the Lord, for real, because right now? I can't imagine you lastin' much longer here in WCF. You ain't winnin' anything, let alone War. If I see you in the match I'ma make that beatdown at the end of Slam a few weeks ago look like a pat on the ass. I'ma crucify you, Joe. I'ma set your Holy ass on fire, that's my Word.
Orbit nods, searching for another face to X out.
Steve Orbit: Cormack MacNeill. Cor-MacNeill. You big dummy. That's all I gotta say, though. You big, big dummy. How long you been here for? And you keep makin' the same mistakes. You big enough, strong enough that you can stand on your own. You don't need no Sequitus or any other bunch of weirdos to make a name for yourself. You got some talent, homie, you should have been somethin' by now. But you're NOT. And the blame for that falls squarely on your mother fuckin' ass. I got news for you, Braveheart, shit ain't gonna change at War. War ain't gonna be your big breakout performance. You sure as hell ain't gonna win. If it was gonna happen for you... it would have happened by now. Oh well. You could always learn to play the bagpipes.
Orbit chuckles. He crosses out another face on the poster.
Steve Orbit: Hey, Grayson Pierce. Now that I know what the fuck you look like or who you are. Yeah, we got a date at Slam 300, don't we-- and by date, I mean I'ma Slap the fuckin' highlights off your head. Livewire, you a bold dude, man. I like how you wasn't afraid to walk right up me, Steve Orbit, and tell me I ain't shit. Tell me you gonna take my Hardcore title. I like that, but let's be honest, homie. You ain't gonna do none of that and the league I play in is another galaxy over from yours. You can't hang with me, Wire. And obviously you ain't done your homework, because you gonna question my Hardcore abilities? You gonna act like Steve Orbit don't know how to get down in some Hardcore rules? Bitch, I'ma show the Hardcore title division what brutality is all about, and it starts with you. It starts with you at Slam 300, and it's gonna be a beautiful sight for the sadistic folks out there. I'm gettin' ahead of myself-- War match. You ain't doin' shit. I hope I'm the one to eliminate you, just to give you a little taste-- either way, you ain't gonna last in the War. You ain't got what it takes. Fuckin' punk kid. Go sing a song about that.
Orbit mugs the camera for a moment before returning to the poster and X'ing out another face.
Steve Orbit: Look at this mother fucker right here. Gravedigger. Come outta retirement or wherever the fuck he been at, ready to overthrow the entire WCF roster and become the man once again. Diggs, I gotta tell ya, homeboy... you a stubborn old bastard, for real. You already retired like fifty times. Just leave it alone! Here's my prediction for Gravedigger at War-- he breaks his hip climbing up the ring steps, forced to retire again. Until maybe he gets a mechanical procedure... kinda like--
Orbit searches for a face, crosses it off.
Steve Orbit: BOBBY CAIRO. This little dick mother fucker. God, I can't explain it. I hate this mother fucker as much as I love him. It's a love-hate type thang. On one hand, the boy is a pimp, straight up-- game recognize game in this mother fucker. I can appreciate the man for Governing his own territory. If that ain't some pimp shit... you know what I'm sayin'? He's got the mental control, the mind control over the ladies-- it's some magical pimp shit. There's the side of Bobby Cairo that I really love and admire. The side of Bobby Cairo that I could hang with, slang with, get a couple hookers and bang with. Now, on the OTHER hand, there's the Bobby C I gotta get in the ring with. The mother fucker who ain't done shit for as long as anybody can remember-- oh, Tag Titles, my bad. I forgot about that "amazing" Tag Title reign with Odin. You know, just the fact this mother fucker associates with Odin Balfore is enough to make me pissed off. Besides that, nothin'. Jack shit! But he wanna talk like he been here, gettin' his hands dirty, fightin' the good fight-- nigga, please. You been sittin' on a throne gettin' your dick sucked, with bitches feedin' you grapes. And there ain't nothin' WRONG with that. I FEEL you on that. But don't go do that for five years and then come back to WCF like you mean somethin' to any of us. Like you're better than anybody, because you ain't. You ain't shit right now, Bobby. Last year, at War, you eliminated me. I was on fire and you hit me with that suplex pin, I was caught. I was stuck. This year, I'ma stick YOU. I got my fuckin' eye on you this year, homeboy. You mechanical mother fucker. I'ma short your fuckin' circuit. I'ma pull your God damn plug.
Orbit calms himself before looking at the poster again, X'ing a face, again.
Steve Orbit: What about John Gable. The actorrrrre. You know, I thought Gable woulda been World Champion by now. Going into Ultimate Showdown, I had a secret suspicion that maybe he was gonna be the one to pull through and win the whole God damn thing. But then... he didn't. And that's what I realized somethin' about John Gable. Maybe we all realized the same thing. John Gable is a mid-carder FOR LIFE. He's comfortable there. It's like a warm, cozy blanket for him. He's safe and secure. He don't have to put out any extra effort. He don't have to bust the real ass, make the real efforts for the big matches-- because every time this mother fucker gets put into a big situation, he doesn't step it up. EVER. He's good-- GREAT, even. And he's consistent. But he's never gone above and beyond, he's never taken that extra step. He's been given opportunities-- wasted every one. You know, it's kinda fitting that he took the Television championship and made it his own. That level, where people be chasin' the Television championship, that's where Gable's career is stuck in neutral. Not stuck-- that's where he keeps it, on purpose. He loves it there. And because of all that, John Gable ain't gonna do shit at War. He'll show up, put on a decent performance, and get eliminated without much of a commotion-- because that's what he does. That's the John Gable MO. Word up.
Orbit looks at the poster. It's almost all X's, with maybe a half dozen left. He X's out another one.
Steve Orbit: Omega Man. Jay Omega. You know, this mother fucker proved me wrong. I thought he was just another guy, maybe a lil' washed up, comin' into the WCF talkin' about all his past accomplishments like anybody gave a shit. I never would have thought Omega would still be here, let alone holding the United States title-- the title he took from my boy Z-MAC. That was the night I started to believe in Jay Omega, I realized he ain't just a fuckin' fool talkin' shit. He got the right stuff and he's movin' up the ranks. With that being said... there's only so much room at the top, Omega. There's a handful of guys here who occupy the main event scene. Most of them are members of two groups-- Vapor Kings, and... well, you know who the fuck they are. Thing is, Mega Man, it's gonna take a lot more than a United States title win to join the upper echelon of WCF. There's been a lot of mother fuckers like you, who come in... create some buzz, maybe even win a title or two, but then they enter War. Or they enter Ultimate Showdown. Or they get into a World Title match, and when they lose... they realize that maybe they ain't as good as they thought they was. Maybe they ain't as good as everybody keep TELLIN' 'em they is. So my message to you, Omega, is this-- what's gonna happen when you don't win War? Are you gonna run away when you realize you ain't the best around here? Not even close? When you realize that your meteoric rise to the top just... fizzled out and dropped to the Earth? Be happy with your United States title. It's a good title. You might wanna look up who has the longest reign with it. He went on to do great things. Maybe you can to-- but winning War, it ain't gonna happen for you. Not this year. Not while mother fuckers like Steve Orbit are around.
Orbit nods at the camera. After a moment, he looks at the paper. He circles four faces.
Steve Orbit: Here we are. Pantheon. My former associates, brothers, homies... "friends", whatever. You know, I don't expect anybody to understand why I left Pantheon and joined the Vapor Kings. With Pantheon, all you see is the glitz, the glamor, the fame and fortune. The fact is, it's not about what Pantheon did to me or didn't do. It's not them... it's me. I don't fit in with those mother fuckers. I never felt at home with Pantheon. I'm not on some elite shit, some save the business shit-- it's just not my style. I just wanna have a good time and drop some bodies and not worry about what anybody thinks about me. With Pantheon, it's like... oh, you know, you got an image to worry about. Oh, you can't disrupt the Pantheon harmony. FUCK the Pantheon! I was born a God damn Vapor King. I was a Vapor King before there even was a Vapor Kings, so if you wanna talk about reasons or you want a fuckin' explaination for why I left Pantheon... you'll never understand. Nobody could understand, but know this-- it ain't about status, or wins, or losses, or titles. It's about me being MYSELF. It's about me being comfortable in my own God damn shoes. I have that now, and with that... I have removed any limitations that were placed on myself. "Pantheon Steve Orbit" was Steve Orbit in a fuckin' cage. I'm free now. I'm a fuckin' free man... free to win this God damn War, win the Tag Titles, and show Pantheon EXACTLY what I've become WITHOUT them.
Orbit crosses out the first face.
Steve Orbit: Daniel Booker. My "replacement". Yeah, how's that workin' out? Win any World Titles yet? No, no five-month reign? Oh. You step out of Pantheon's shadow yet? No? Oh. From where I'm sittin', it looks like you're more of a place holder than a fuckin' replacement. Don't think I forgot about that punch in my face when you made your "grand debut". So far, punching Steve Orbit in the face has been the highlight of your career. It's the only thing you've done that's notable. Fuck you, Booker. Fuck Pantheon for even entertaining the idea that they could find a replacement for me. That's how these people think. They didn't even realize what they HAD... if they think they can replace a mother fucker like ME, with a mother fucker like YOU. Sorry mother fuckers.
Orbit X's another face.
Steve Orbit: Jayson Price. What's there to say? Some people... even within Pantheon, they think you're the reason I defected. Couldn't be further from the truth, but you DID piss me off a whole lot. You got under my skin, Price, with all your pompous ass bullshit. Actin' like you better than anybody. I was ready to go, ready to fight in that Clockwork Orange House of Fun. I brought my fuckin' A-game. You showed up drunk and late-- story of your career. There's nothing else to say. I fuckin' demolished you in the House of Fun and I'll do it again in the War match, if you want some-- I got a feeling you'll be stayin' as far away from me as possible. I'll be surprised if you even show up.
Orbit moves on, X'ing another face.
Steve Orbit: Corey Black, we have a funny history, don't we. I don't know if I ever really liked you-- maybe you feel the same about me, I dunno. Yeah, we did the "Two Black Dudes" thing. You thought you were black. Corey, I got news for you... YOU AREN'T EVEN BLACK! Yeah, that's right. You ain't BLACK. You ain't foolin' anybody, not anymore. You know, I thought you were tryin' to give me a shot when you asked me to join Pantheon. I thought you really wanted to help me. Turns out, you wanted me to LEAD Pantheon. You wanted me to represent Pantheon, workin' every single fuckin' week, while the rest of y'all just hang back and live off the spoils of my victories. Well, guess what, I ain't havin' that shit. I ain't nobody's ho, Corey. I know what you thinkin'-- oh yeah, you gonna get yourself some revenge against Steve Orbit. You gonna make an example out of me for turning on Pantheon. Mother fucker, I'm gonna show you why I never needed you OR Pantheon. Tag Titles? You and Fly are some weak ass champs. Shit, one of y'all will either get hurt or take a fuckin' vacation within the next month anyway, so how long y'all think you really was gonna hold 'em? Seth booked this match, not because ICE or myself needs the Tag Titles, but because we are willing to WORK. We can hold multiple titles and defend them all in one night, and still have energy to party all night afterwards. The Vapor Kings are about WORK. Pantheon is about sittin' back collecting royalties and only showing up when it's absolutely necessary. Bitch, we fight for fun. We fight because we have to. We fight to conquer the hate. So yeah, I'ma show the world a new side of Corey Black-- Corey Black & Blue. Hah. Fucker.
Orbit chuckles at his bad joke... and crosses off the last circled X.
Steve Orbit: The man of the hour, Jonny Fly. Oh boy, do we have some shit brewin' between us. We got the Pantheon emotional feelings, we got the Tag match, we got our upcoming match at One. And we got the fact that Jonny Fly is the reigning War winner from 2013. Fly, you one of the best talkers in the game, for real. You can convince anybody that your opponent ain't shit and that you are fuckin' invincible, but know this one fact of life-- you cannot bullshit a bullshitter, Fly. You know I'm on to you. You know that besides Black, I probably know you better than anybody on the WCF roster. I've definitely BEATEN you more than anybody else. That's a fact that you can't argue. But hey, Fly, don't sweat it. In the scheme of things you gonna be remembered as one of, if not the greatest of all time-- but there will always be that footnote, with my smiling black ass. It will read somethin' like "our hero Jonny Fly, he just could never truly overcome his greatest foe, Steve Orbit". Man, you can steamroll right over everybody else, but when it comes to Steve Orbit? Nothing is guaranteed. Am I right? Fly, that's why tickets for One started sellin' out as soon as we announced our rematch almost a YEAR in advance. When you put Jonny Fly and Steve Orbit in the ring, NOTHING is guaranteed. Fly versus anybody else, you know who to bet on. Fly versus Steve Orbit... who knows. Truly could go either way. And that excites the fans, they wanna see that. They don't wanna see Fly runnin' through everybody to no end. I'm sayin'-- there's no denying that you are great, Fly. You are a master of every fuckin' corner of a ring... but I'm havin' the best year of my life. I'm primed and in position to win this entire fuckin' War. Me and my Brother are ready to win the Tag straps. Me and my Brother are ready to go main event One, as brothers, Tag Team champions, fight for the World title. Come on, Fly, you're a sucker for the dramatic, right? Even you should be able to appreciate that. But don't worry-- we can still do our match. Maybe we can open the show.
Orbit winks at the camera. He looks at the poster one more time... there's one more face. It's actually the top half of a body, hovering over the entire roster. That's right, this man takes up half the poster. Orbit takes his black marker and draws a large X, crossing out the picture.
Steve Orbit: THIS mother fucker. TORTURE. I was pumped when you returned earlier this year, homie. It was like a dream come true bein' able to tag with you. I mean, if you lookin' for a tag partner, you can do much worse than Torture, right? That's what I thought. And then... Blast happened. And you stepped in the ring... you pulled down your pants, spread your ass cheeks, and you took a shit in the middle of the fuckin' ring. You dropped a big stinky turd, right on the canvas. Why the fuck did you do that, Torture? I'm thinkin' to myself, THIS is the big bad Torture? This is the man who everybody is so afraid of? This mother fucker who is throwin' his own shit around the ring like a God damn chimpanzee?
Orbit blinks.
Steve Orbit: And then you got pinned by Waylon Cash. WAYLON CASH! The mother fucker loses to everybody! The guy who I beat a month later with ease, pinned you in the middle of the fuckin' ring. I ain't never been pinned by no Waylon Cash, I can tell you that much, Torture. So yeah, congrats on your big return. I'm sure everybody is real fuckin' excited. Maybe this time you can take your little dick out and jerk one off during the match. Maybe piss in the corner you fuckin' psycho. I know one thing, it ain't gonna be this AMAZING GREAT COMEBACK OH MY GOD! The people ain't that excited, man. They don't care as much as you think they do. Your head is too fuckin' big, homie. It's time to come back to reality. It's time... for a Pimp Slap. Eliminating you won't even mean shit no more, not after getting your ass kicked by WAYLON CASH. Jeez, man. You supposed to be a legend. You fuckin' up your legacy, homie. Let me guess, you another one of those mother fuckers who ain't save enough during his prime, and now you gotta show up a few times a year just to keep the bills paid. That's fine. Can't knock the hustle. I CAN knock you on your ass, though. And I will.
Orbit holds up the poster. There is one face without an X. It is, of course, Steve Orbit's face.
Steve Orbit: And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Your 2014 WAR Winner, Hardcore Champion, Tag Team Champion... and mother fuckin' Vapor King. "The Mack"... Steve... Orbit.
Orbit leans back in his chair, laughing to himself. He picks up his Hennessy bottle and takes a sip. We fade out.
Scene opens in a beautiful suburb somewhere. White picket fences everywhere. The camera settles upon one house in particular-- it's modest, non-descript. Just a nice home with a welcome mat and a two-car garage.
Inside the home, the front door opens-- "The Mack" Steve Orbit enters. He's carrying some luggage, and he's wearing some very plain clothes. Okay, it's a decent suit, but certainly not his normal flashy attire. He closes the door behind him.
Steve Orbit: Honey, I'm home!
Three young children-- two girls and one boy, roughly a year apart in age, run into Orbit's arms. Hugs and kisses all around. Then, a golden retriever runs up, jumping up and licking his face. Orbit is wearing a huge smile.
Steve Orbit: Gosh. I missed you kids so much!
A woman walks out from the kitchen-- she stands in the doorway, watching the heart-warming scene. Orbit looks up and makes eye contact with her. His smile grows even larger. The kids and dog run off, as Orbit approaches the woman. He hugs her tight, kissing her on the lips.
Steve Orbit: Oh, baby-- it's so good to be home.
As the camera switches, we realize that we recognize this woman. She is Tina, who was recently written out of Steve Orbit's storylines-- yet here she is. She touches Orbit's face.
Tina: It's so hard, not being on the road with my husband anymore.
Steve Orbit: I know, but the kids...
Tina: Shhh. I'm not complaining.
They smile at each other. Orbit's eye twinkles.
Steve Orbit: Let me put my things away. We've got company tonight!
Orbit's wife returns to the kitchen. Orbit walks upstairs, luggage in hand.
==
THAT NIGHT
Orbit is sitting on the couch, watching football with his family. The doorbell rings.
Steve Orbit: That must be them!
Orbit gets up and goes to the door. Standing there are ICE Beckman and another man who vaguely resembles Zombie McMorris-- if he was a regular, clean-cut guy. ICE and Z-MAC are looking dapper-- Z-MAC wears a knit sweater while ICE is wearing a shirt and tie.
Steve Orbit: Guys! So glad you could make it. Great to see you.
ICE and Z-MAC hug Orbit. Not the gangsta hug. A real, group hug with patting on the back.
Zombie McMorris: Thanks for having us, Steven.
ICE: How's the wife and kids?
Steve Orbit: Oh, they're GREAT, just great. Outstanding. Let's go, shall we?
Orbit leads ICE and Zombie into the living room. Zombie pulls out teddy bears for the kids. It's laughs and smiles all around.
Tina: Can I get you guys something to drink?
ICE: I'd love a ginger ale, thanks.
Zombie McMorris: I'll have an ice water-- with a lemon wedge, if you don't mind. Thank you so much.
Steve Orbit: I'm all set, honey.
Tina leaves to retrieve the drinks.
Steve Orbit: So are you guys pumped for War or what?
ICE: The Tag Match should be fun. I just LOVE Jonny Fly, and Corey Black is such a great guy. I'm really excited to work with them.
Steve Orbit: Oh, for sure. Fly has been like a brother to me, and Corey... well, he's just such a sweet guy. Really great person.
Zombie McMorris: Just last week, Corey and myself volunteered at the homeless shelter in Reading. Gosh, it was such a rewarding experience.
Steve Orbit: I hear you. I love volunteering my time to the less fortunate. It is one of my favorite past times, for sure.
Tina returns with the drinks.
ICE: I have to say, I'm a little disappointed that I won't be able to perform during the War match itself. It's great that Seth has enough confidence in me to be World Champion-- don't get me wrong, I'm grateful.
Zombie McMorris: There's always next year!
Steve Orbit: Right. And, jeez, it's dangerous out there. Too many bodies, you know, one miscalculation could end somebody's career. I'd hate to see anybody get hurt-- fingers crossed.
DING DONG
The doorbell rings. Tina goes to answer the door... after a few moments, Jonny Fly and Corey Black walk in the room. Fly is carrying flowers and a bottle of wine. Corey Black has a vegetable and dip platter. They place the gifts on the table, and proceed to shake hands with all three Vapor Kings. Orbit stands up and hugs both of them.
Steve Orbit: Welcome to my humble abode. So glad you guys could make it.
Jonny Fly: Wouldn't miss it for the world, buddy. The kids look great.
We almost don't recognize Corey Black. He has no beard and his hair is slicked back. Both Pantheon members are dressed very well-to-do. Corey Black is wearing a vest and slacks. Fly has a scarf tied around his neck and he's wearing penny loafers.
Corey Black: How's it going, fellas?
ICE: Great, we were just talking about how much we were looking forward to War and working with you guys.
Corey Black: Oh, us too. We were talking about it on the ride over. You guys are so talented, we just really love what you're doing.
Jonny Fly: Maybe later on, we can work on some spots for the tag match. I have a few ideas I want to run by you two, and hopefully we can get them practiced and set up-- you know my motto, safety first!
All five men laugh.
Steve Orbit: Oh Jonny, you're so thoughtful. Always thinking of others.
Jonny Fly: Well, what can I say. My parents taught me well.
Fly pops open the bottle of wine. He pours a glass for Orbit-- he stops him about half-way. He offers it to the other men.
ICE: No thanks, I'm driving.
Zombie McMorris: I'll stick with the water, but thank you very much for offering.
Corey Black: Hey, there's some stuff I've been thinking about lately. You guys mind if I get some things off my chest?
Steve Orbit: By all means, Core-Core. We're all friends here and we support each other.
Corey sighs, before opening up.
Corey Black: It's just... I'm tired of this gimmick, you know? It's been a long time with no change. Sure, I did the Creeping Death thing-- sick and twisted, it was so hard for me to really reach down deep and become that character. It's just not who I am as a person. And now? What am I, a Japanese Viking with Black tendencies? Does that even make sense? And the stupid beard, and the "heavy metal" music... gross! Just once, I'd like to be a normal guy from Minnesota. An all-American type of hero that the kids can really look up to. I keep asking creative, but you know how they are.
Steve Orbit: Oh, I sure do. I was... just really disappointed when they came up with this "pimp" gimmick. All these silly clothes I have to wear, and the cussing-- calling women... the b-word? What am I supposed to tell my daughters when they're old enough to understand?
Jonny Fly: Well, hopefully we'll all be retired by that point. I understand your frustration, though, Corey. I do. I'm tired of portraying some sex-crazed, selfish, egotistical criminal douche. And I've had enough of my corny-sounding finisher, the "Fly Swatter". Really? That's the best they could come up with? And my character is so one-dimensional. I never lose, in the ring or out-- even in my promos, I'm indestructible and I never get hurt. I just wish for once, I could play a character with real depth... someone with heart, and vulnerability-- like Brent Alpine.
Steve Orbit: I heard Alpine is gone for good.
Corey Black: Shucks! You don't say?
Zombie McMorris: Yes, I'm afraid it's true. Not everybody is built for this business.
All five men agree.
Jonny Fly: And another thing, I'd like to lose once in a while! I'd love to do a great comeback story. Even the fans are tired of seeing me win everything, I think. It takes the fun out of watching, when you know who's going to win every time.
Fly sulks.
ICE: You know, I can't really complain about what I'm doing at this point. I'm having fun with my character, and I can utilize my sense of humor, which I feel is a strength. I just wish I didn't have to be so... crude, and such a drug and alcohol abuser. Like you, Mister Black, I'd like to be more of a role model for the children.
Zombie McMorris: Really, guys? What about me? The "Coked Up Madman"? Do you know how difficult it is for a God-fearing man like myself to say some of my lines? By golly, the looks I get in my Wednesday Night bible study... it's shameful. But, you know, we all have a job to do. We knew what we got into when we signed up.
Steve Orbit: At the end of the day, guys, we can't complain. We get to go out there and act, and perform in front of millions. We have to best job in the world, I think.
All of the men agree. They raise their glasses.
All five: To good friends, and to WCF!
They drink.
ICE: So... have you guys heard anything about who's booked to win War?
Steve Orbit: Well, I don't want to spoil anything... and you know how Seth and creative are, constantly changing their minds up until hours before the show. But what I heard is...
BLURRY DREAM LINES AND HARP MUSIC FADE OUT
Scene transforms into a hotel room. "The Mack" Steve Orbit jumps up from a deep sleep. There's a bottle of Hennessy and a few pill bottles on the night stand. Two women in the bed next to him, passed out. Orbit looks around... and chuckles.
Steve Orbit: Now THAT was a weird ass dream.
Orbit smiles to himself, and lays back down, going back to sleep.
==
Scene opens in Steve Orbit's home office. It's decorated with lots of WCF memorabilia-- two replica World Titles, replica Tag Team titles, replica Television Title and United States title, as well as the actual Hardcore championship belt. There's also three plaques-- they read "World Champion of the Year 2013", "Wrestler of the Year 2013", and "United States Champion of the Year 2012". Besides those accolades, there are posters for various WCF PPVs featuring Orbit, the most prominent one is right behind his desk-- "Fly vs Orbit" from One 2013. Orbit sits in his swivel chair, and on his desk is the current promotional poster for the upcoming WAR XIII. On it, are the likenesses of every WCF superstar participating in the match. In one hand, Orbit twirls a thick black magic marker.
Steve Orbit: Let's face it y'all. You can't go into War without being prepared in every possible way. You goin' in there with thirty-plus people. Some of these mother fuckers will just look at it as a whole bunch of bodies that need to be taken out-- nah, homie. It's a bunch of various personalities, various strengths and weaknesses, various mother fuckin' motivations and agendas-- I need to know every one of 'em so I know what I'm really walkin' in to. Because we all want the same thing. We all want to be the one who wins War XIII-- sure, the title shot at One, that's a huge bonus, but the real prize here is being able to add a War win to the resume. There have been a couple of fluke wins, guys who just had one really good night but they ain't really lived up to it since-- *cough* Jeff Purse *cough*-- but mostly, when you win War, it is mother fuckin' confirmation that you are one of the baddest mother fuckers to ever step into a wrestling ring, WCF or otherwise. This is the single most grueling, testing, challenging match IN THE WORLD. And that makes winning War the single greatest accomplishment in this business.
It's time for Steve Orbit to accomplish that shit.
You know, I been gettin' calls all week for interviews, whatever, but I already know how it goes. I've seen everybody else gettin' put through the wringer all week by Hank Brown and whoever else. You sit down and do mother fuckin' word association like you a God damn mental patient-- Hank says a name, you say a short piece about the name. I can't be bothered with all that. So instead, I'ma sit here, and I'ma look at these mother fuckin' pictures of these niggas, and I'ma tell you what I think off the top of my head. This is tender, personal moments and inner thoughts of Steve Orbit. Y'all ready?
Orbit winks at the camera. He takes the magic marker and crosses off several faces.
Steve Orbit: Tobias Barnz. Isaac Salinger. Shawn Scholes. Louis Bartkowski. Just know... y'all have a place in War. Every War needs victims, casualties. One of YOU could be that fifth, sixth elimination that gives somebody a show-stealing performance. YOU could be that elimination. So don't feel like you goin' in like a lamb to the slaughter... well, nah. That's exactly what you are. Moving on.
Orbit crosses off two more faces.
Steve Orbit: Tyler Walker and biohazard. I hope y'all can work your shit out. Y'all need to go to fuckin' relationship counseling, for real. Serious. Tyler... er, Flyocker Flamer or whatever the fuck you callin' yourself now, you need biohazard. You guys ain't shit by yourselves, but as a team? Y'all a WCF staple, man. Y'all got that heart and soul shit, that odd couple shit. We love it. We love BioWalker. So PLEASE. Walker, forget about Fly. Trust me-- it ain't gonna end well. GO TO BIOHAZARD. GO TO HIM!
Orbit wipes a tear from his eye.
Steve Orbit: Dammit! Aight, that's enough about y'all--
Orbit looks at the poster.
Steve Orbit: Who the fuck is this? Night Rider?!
Orbit crosses off the picture with the magic marker.
Steve Orbit: Damn, I didn't even know Night Rider was comin' back for War. Where's your bitch, Rider? Where's Denise? Oh, don't tell me-- Denise left, so you thought you'd come on back to the well and try to find yourself another immortal type of bitch. Am I right? Got news, homie, since you left-- we found out a few of the girls were really guys, and there's only one female left on the roster. Chelsea Armstrong. And she's kinda sorta taken... by my Brother, ICE. You wanna take my Brother's girl, homeboy? I see what you tryin' to do. I'ma send you Ridin' back into the Night, for real.
Orbit shakes his head, mumbling. He looks at the poster again, crosses off another face.
Steve Orbit: Speaking of Chelsea Armstrong, here she is. One one hand, got love for her. We tagged together a few weeks ago, she scored the winning pin. I got love for what she can do in the ring. She's different from a lot of the bitches we had here in the past. She's just here to fight-- no drama, and I like that. I really do. And ICE, man, I see the way he looks at you. I mean, I look at you too, but not the way he does. I guess what I'm sayin' is... what happens if you win the War? Huh, Chelsea? I seen too many God damn relationships ruined over the World Title. Seen it happen, first hand. I refuse to allow that to happen to y'all. I have to stop you, Chelsea. I'd rather not be the one to do it, but if I have to, I WILL eliminate your ass. Pimp Slap if I have to. Just know I'm doin' it for your own good, to preserve what you got with my Brother. I'm doin' it for both of y'all. And I know what you're sayin'-- if I win, won't that fuck up mine and ICE's relationship? Look, we are brothers. We already faught over the World Title and it made our brotherhood STRONGER. We're family, there's no way to change that. It's different.
Orbit trails off and looks at the poster. He searches with the marker, and then crosses off another face.
Steve Orbit: Let's keep it movin' with Z-MAC. He may not be my brother like ICE is, but God dammit, he's as close as family. He's a real student of my father, Buddy Roman and I have to respect that. We'll see each other in the War, no doubt we'll help each other. What y'all don't know, is we'll fight each other like it ain't no thang. Buddy wouldn't have it any other way. This is a competition and, Zombie, may the best man win. I know, me, personally, I ain't gettin' fucked up before the War. I'm clear-headed for this mother fucker. Zombie, though, he ain't been clear-headed since he was... well, ever. The nigga was born with a silver spoon in his nose, you know what I'm sayin'? And that's fine, but Z-MAC... if it comes down to you and me, and we the last ones standin', and you the only thing that stands between me and the biggest win of my career-- I will fuckin' annihilate you. Don't think I'ma hold back... and I expect the same from you, homie.
Another face, another black X.
Steve Orbit: Alex Richards. This goofy mother fucker. Remember this?
Orbit points to the WCF Hardcore belt hanging on the wall.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, it's mine now. Technically, I took it from you. I am your successor. Damn, quite a jump there, ain't it? From a bottom of the barrel... Uncle Fester lookin' slob like you, to one of the greatest men to ever step inside a WCF ring-- me. I get that the fans like you, you headin' for a People's Title match-- see, people like when they look at somebody and it reminds them of theyself. That's why they hate a pretty mother fucker like me, but they love a fat retard like you. You represent the People, Alex, but that still ain't gonna get you through Chelsea Armstrong. When she beat Steeltoe Joe in a People's Title match... she proved to everybody that there ain't no body who can take that fuckin' belt away from her. She's gonna wreck you, man, I'll be surprised if you can still stand for War. And even if you are still standin', it won't be for long. I know it and you know it. Come on, it's just like Ultimate Showdown. You walked in with your big ass man-titty chest puffed out, and you walked out with your balls cut off. Neutered. And now you tryin' to, like, surgically put the balls back on and pretend you still got 'em, and you gonna do somethin' at War. You ain't gonna do shit, Alex, and neither is...
Orbit searches the poster with the marker... and crosses out another face.
Steve Orbit: Neither is Deuce Murdock. Another drug addict. What is it with these people? No, not white people-- WCF wrestlers. They all high on shit! If they ain't drunk off they ass, they poppin' pills, takin' all type of drugs...
Orbit pulls out his desk drawer. He opens a prescription pill bottle and pops one of the pills. He takes a rolled-up $100 bill and sniffs a line. He washes it all down with a sip from the Hennessy bottle.
Steve Orbit: Ahem, excuse me. As I was sayin'... what was I sayin'?
Orbit looks at the poster, trying to remember where he was.
Steve Orbit: Oh well. Guess they wasn't too important. Uh...
Orbit X's another face.
Steve Orbit: Ultimate Destroyer. You are neither. With your big ass, maybe you got that name from eating at buffets. I bet they kick you out after an hour, right? They show you some little asterisk next to "all you can eat" that says somethin' like... no fat people. I'm paraphrasing, but, you know what I'm sayin', when I was younger I'd blaze up the weed and walk into the Chinese buffet, and they kicked me and my homeboys out after an hour talkin' about we ate too much. Bitch, it's all you can eat! False advertising ass mother fucker.
Orbit mumbles something like "shoulda burned that place down" while he's searching for the next face. And there's the X.
Steve Orbit: Ok, Justin Cash. I know, we tagged last week, we beat some fools-- look, you got lucky. You was on the right team. You had STEVE ORBIT on your team. I don't know who you fuckin' cried to backstage to get on my team. You had Steve Orbit, Z-MAC and Chelsea Armstrong. We coulda won the match without you. We won the match IN SPITE of you, nigga. Did I tell you I can't stand mother fuckers named Cash? Except Johnny Cash, he was aight.
Another face gets crossed out.
Steve Orbit: Crazy Kaz Mazy! What's he supposed to be, a radio guy? He supposed to be wacky or somethin'? I don't really get it. I'll tell you what's crazy, you thinkin' you have a chance at winning War this year. Come on, Kaz Mazy-- how the fuck you even pronounce that? Mazzy? Mazy? Whatever, it don't matter. Kaz, let me give it to you Unfiltered-- I don't think you funny, I don't think you crazy... and you about to propose to your bitch, right? What's her name, Sophie? Sophia? You about to get a rude awakening, homie. You can't win War and you about to spend the rest of your life as a square. GOOD JOB. NEXT.
Orbit scans the poster, and finds another face to X out. Orbit grins, and then starts yelling "ALLAH-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA!!!"
Steve Orbit: Jahani al-Reb, the Baghdadi Mack. You bitch ass mother fucker. First, you come into MY country-- MINE-- and you tryin' to pop off at the lip about all the infidels eatin' bacon and shit. THEN, you REALLY fucked up-- callin' yourself some type of Mack. Nigga, you a spoiled rich boy who ain't never to hustle or get your hands dirty for nothin'. It takes more than some flashy clothes and a fly ride to call yourself a Mack, homie. I can't wait to see you in this match, I can't wait to show you how a REAL Mack gets down. I'ma Pimp Slap the fuckin' towel off your head, ho.
Orbit nods, feeling good about that one. He moves along... a face is crossed off.
Steve Orbit: And then there's Johnny Reb. Wait. Johnny Reb, Jahani al-Reb... nahhhh, it's nothin'. Couldn't be. Anyway, Reb, you got me a few weeks ago. I'm man enough to admit it, you beat me in a wrestling match. I won't sit here and make excuses-- it ain't the first time I've took a loss, but it was the LAST time I'ma take a loss from YOU. Reb, on one hand I respect you for the time and dedication you done put in to this company... on the other hand, what the fuck are you doin' here, still? Fuckin' with Doc Henry of all people? Last time around, you was in Pantheon. PANTHEON. Now, me and them boys ain't on the best terms right now, and I'ma get to them in a minute, but going from Pantheon to Doc Henry is a pretty big fuckin' free fall, homie. That's like one day you eatin' shrimp, steak, whatever, and the next day you eatin' ramen noodles-- without the fuckin' flavor pack! Just the raw ass noodles. Gross. Reb, you'd be better off just stayin' gone, yo. I know you was a former War winner-- and, shit, I can't say nothin' bad about that. Could you win it today? Not a fuckin' chance, but you did, once upon a time. That was your time-- 2014 is MY TIME. STEVE ORBIT'S TIME TO WIN WAR. I might eliminate you myself just to say I took an old War winner and fucked him up just because I could, just to prove that this is MY TIME. If you wanna be in YOUR TIME, get your ass in the fuckin' Ranchero, and GO. Just go! Go back to the good ol' days, Reb. Ain't nobody gonna miss you here.
Orbit quickly crosses off another face.
Steve Orbit: And your partner Doc Henry, I think I said enough about him already when I compared him to raw noodles, but shit-- this mother fucker is still around? Cock, it's time to go, man. Just take whatever is left of your dignity, man, and get outta here. There's nothing left for you in WCF, except for pain and mother fuckin' embarassment. When's the last time you did ANYTHING except get your ass whooped? Was there a time? I don't know. Ask Reb, he seem to know all about time, and shit. Whatever. Doc, don't get in my fuckin' way. I will have no mercy on you.
Orbit shakes his head. He finds another face. He puts a black X across the face.
Steve Orbit: Hyena. Is you a laughing hyena?
Orbit chuckles.
Steve Orbit: Oh yeah, I get it. You a badass animal, right? WCF already got a badass animal. His name is Honey Badger and he don't give a shit-- Hyena, if I was you, I'd stay the fuck away from Zombie McMorris. He gon' want his title back as the badass animal carnivore mother fucker around here. That's all.
Another face gets crossed off.
Steve Orbit: Let's talk about Buzz Worthy. What's the Buzz, Buzz? You know I ain't got no personal beef with you. Nobody does. You the fuckin' man. Hank, Freddy, let me tell you somethin'-- this is how a fuckin' reporter is supposed to handle themself. You work hard, be respectful, and then in return, mother fuckers will respect you and they'll want to give you stories and interviews. That's how the shit works. It's not about who can be the most annoying or ask the most questions... that being said, come on, Buzz. Wrestling ain't your thing, man. You're too pretty for this shit. I get that, you know, you been a fan for a long time, you probably one of those folks who thinks that, by WATCHING a lot of wrestling, you can go in there and do it. Am I right? Besides, Buzz, how many times you gonna leave and return? Huh? You literally don't know if you comin' or goin'. How you gonna win War like that? I applaud your Television Title win, that's a nice lil' belt, it is. But War? You ain't ready for this, Buzz. Bring a microphone-- not for interviews, for a weapon. I think you gonna need it.
Orbit quickly searches for another face and crosses it off.
Steve Orbit: Oh, and speaking of comin' or goin'-- the mother fucker Jeff Purse. I mean, look, I love what you did with Pantheon. I felt everything you was doin', man. When you superkicked Fly... my dick moved, homie. That ain't no gay shit, I'm just sayin', my testosterone was pumpin'. I wanted to go in there and kick him too. And I will-- I'll get to Fly, but Purse, my man. A man of the cloth? I never could have guessed it, man. Last I knew you was a daredevil, weed smokin', OCD-havin' son of a bitch. How can you fuck with God when you have OCD? Wouldn't you think everything is already in God's perfect order, so you shouldn't fuck with it? Or maybe you think it's your MISSION to straighten shit out, or even shit out, whatever-- because that's what God wants. Which one is it? Or are the rumors true, Purse? You really lose your shit after Kari left? You really go fuckin' mental? I know you was in the funny farm... yeah, it looks like you really lost it, homie. That's a shame. You was a good dude... but hey, if you wanna fuck up some Pantheon, I'm ready to go, any time.
Orbit looks at the poster, searching it with the marker. Over half of it is covered in black marker at this point. He finds another face and X's it out.
Steve Orbit: Let's keep the Holy Roller theme rollin' here with Steeltoe Joe. At this point, Joe, I almost feel sorry for you. Almost. You don't know if you friends with Pantheon, if you hate Pantheon, you tryin' to attack Fly, then you tryin' to attack my Brother ICE-- you're lost, Joe. Shit, I ain't never said this to anybody, but-- maybe you need to go to Church, Joe. I think you need some guidance, homie. You need the Lord, for real, because right now? I can't imagine you lastin' much longer here in WCF. You ain't winnin' anything, let alone War. If I see you in the match I'ma make that beatdown at the end of Slam a few weeks ago look like a pat on the ass. I'ma crucify you, Joe. I'ma set your Holy ass on fire, that's my Word.
Orbit nods, searching for another face to X out.
Steve Orbit: Cormack MacNeill. Cor-MacNeill. You big dummy. That's all I gotta say, though. You big, big dummy. How long you been here for? And you keep makin' the same mistakes. You big enough, strong enough that you can stand on your own. You don't need no Sequitus or any other bunch of weirdos to make a name for yourself. You got some talent, homie, you should have been somethin' by now. But you're NOT. And the blame for that falls squarely on your mother fuckin' ass. I got news for you, Braveheart, shit ain't gonna change at War. War ain't gonna be your big breakout performance. You sure as hell ain't gonna win. If it was gonna happen for you... it would have happened by now. Oh well. You could always learn to play the bagpipes.
Orbit chuckles. He crosses out another face on the poster.
Steve Orbit: Hey, Grayson Pierce. Now that I know what the fuck you look like or who you are. Yeah, we got a date at Slam 300, don't we-- and by date, I mean I'ma Slap the fuckin' highlights off your head. Livewire, you a bold dude, man. I like how you wasn't afraid to walk right up me, Steve Orbit, and tell me I ain't shit. Tell me you gonna take my Hardcore title. I like that, but let's be honest, homie. You ain't gonna do none of that and the league I play in is another galaxy over from yours. You can't hang with me, Wire. And obviously you ain't done your homework, because you gonna question my Hardcore abilities? You gonna act like Steve Orbit don't know how to get down in some Hardcore rules? Bitch, I'ma show the Hardcore title division what brutality is all about, and it starts with you. It starts with you at Slam 300, and it's gonna be a beautiful sight for the sadistic folks out there. I'm gettin' ahead of myself-- War match. You ain't doin' shit. I hope I'm the one to eliminate you, just to give you a little taste-- either way, you ain't gonna last in the War. You ain't got what it takes. Fuckin' punk kid. Go sing a song about that.
Orbit mugs the camera for a moment before returning to the poster and X'ing out another face.
Steve Orbit: Look at this mother fucker right here. Gravedigger. Come outta retirement or wherever the fuck he been at, ready to overthrow the entire WCF roster and become the man once again. Diggs, I gotta tell ya, homeboy... you a stubborn old bastard, for real. You already retired like fifty times. Just leave it alone! Here's my prediction for Gravedigger at War-- he breaks his hip climbing up the ring steps, forced to retire again. Until maybe he gets a mechanical procedure... kinda like--
Orbit searches for a face, crosses it off.
Steve Orbit: BOBBY CAIRO. This little dick mother fucker. God, I can't explain it. I hate this mother fucker as much as I love him. It's a love-hate type thang. On one hand, the boy is a pimp, straight up-- game recognize game in this mother fucker. I can appreciate the man for Governing his own territory. If that ain't some pimp shit... you know what I'm sayin'? He's got the mental control, the mind control over the ladies-- it's some magical pimp shit. There's the side of Bobby Cairo that I really love and admire. The side of Bobby Cairo that I could hang with, slang with, get a couple hookers and bang with. Now, on the OTHER hand, there's the Bobby C I gotta get in the ring with. The mother fucker who ain't done shit for as long as anybody can remember-- oh, Tag Titles, my bad. I forgot about that "amazing" Tag Title reign with Odin. You know, just the fact this mother fucker associates with Odin Balfore is enough to make me pissed off. Besides that, nothin'. Jack shit! But he wanna talk like he been here, gettin' his hands dirty, fightin' the good fight-- nigga, please. You been sittin' on a throne gettin' your dick sucked, with bitches feedin' you grapes. And there ain't nothin' WRONG with that. I FEEL you on that. But don't go do that for five years and then come back to WCF like you mean somethin' to any of us. Like you're better than anybody, because you ain't. You ain't shit right now, Bobby. Last year, at War, you eliminated me. I was on fire and you hit me with that suplex pin, I was caught. I was stuck. This year, I'ma stick YOU. I got my fuckin' eye on you this year, homeboy. You mechanical mother fucker. I'ma short your fuckin' circuit. I'ma pull your God damn plug.
Orbit calms himself before looking at the poster again, X'ing a face, again.
Steve Orbit: What about John Gable. The actorrrrre. You know, I thought Gable woulda been World Champion by now. Going into Ultimate Showdown, I had a secret suspicion that maybe he was gonna be the one to pull through and win the whole God damn thing. But then... he didn't. And that's what I realized somethin' about John Gable. Maybe we all realized the same thing. John Gable is a mid-carder FOR LIFE. He's comfortable there. It's like a warm, cozy blanket for him. He's safe and secure. He don't have to put out any extra effort. He don't have to bust the real ass, make the real efforts for the big matches-- because every time this mother fucker gets put into a big situation, he doesn't step it up. EVER. He's good-- GREAT, even. And he's consistent. But he's never gone above and beyond, he's never taken that extra step. He's been given opportunities-- wasted every one. You know, it's kinda fitting that he took the Television championship and made it his own. That level, where people be chasin' the Television championship, that's where Gable's career is stuck in neutral. Not stuck-- that's where he keeps it, on purpose. He loves it there. And because of all that, John Gable ain't gonna do shit at War. He'll show up, put on a decent performance, and get eliminated without much of a commotion-- because that's what he does. That's the John Gable MO. Word up.
Orbit looks at the poster. It's almost all X's, with maybe a half dozen left. He X's out another one.
Steve Orbit: Omega Man. Jay Omega. You know, this mother fucker proved me wrong. I thought he was just another guy, maybe a lil' washed up, comin' into the WCF talkin' about all his past accomplishments like anybody gave a shit. I never would have thought Omega would still be here, let alone holding the United States title-- the title he took from my boy Z-MAC. That was the night I started to believe in Jay Omega, I realized he ain't just a fuckin' fool talkin' shit. He got the right stuff and he's movin' up the ranks. With that being said... there's only so much room at the top, Omega. There's a handful of guys here who occupy the main event scene. Most of them are members of two groups-- Vapor Kings, and... well, you know who the fuck they are. Thing is, Mega Man, it's gonna take a lot more than a United States title win to join the upper echelon of WCF. There's been a lot of mother fuckers like you, who come in... create some buzz, maybe even win a title or two, but then they enter War. Or they enter Ultimate Showdown. Or they get into a World Title match, and when they lose... they realize that maybe they ain't as good as they thought they was. Maybe they ain't as good as everybody keep TELLIN' 'em they is. So my message to you, Omega, is this-- what's gonna happen when you don't win War? Are you gonna run away when you realize you ain't the best around here? Not even close? When you realize that your meteoric rise to the top just... fizzled out and dropped to the Earth? Be happy with your United States title. It's a good title. You might wanna look up who has the longest reign with it. He went on to do great things. Maybe you can to-- but winning War, it ain't gonna happen for you. Not this year. Not while mother fuckers like Steve Orbit are around.
Orbit nods at the camera. After a moment, he looks at the paper. He circles four faces.
Steve Orbit: Here we are. Pantheon. My former associates, brothers, homies... "friends", whatever. You know, I don't expect anybody to understand why I left Pantheon and joined the Vapor Kings. With Pantheon, all you see is the glitz, the glamor, the fame and fortune. The fact is, it's not about what Pantheon did to me or didn't do. It's not them... it's me. I don't fit in with those mother fuckers. I never felt at home with Pantheon. I'm not on some elite shit, some save the business shit-- it's just not my style. I just wanna have a good time and drop some bodies and not worry about what anybody thinks about me. With Pantheon, it's like... oh, you know, you got an image to worry about. Oh, you can't disrupt the Pantheon harmony. FUCK the Pantheon! I was born a God damn Vapor King. I was a Vapor King before there even was a Vapor Kings, so if you wanna talk about reasons or you want a fuckin' explaination for why I left Pantheon... you'll never understand. Nobody could understand, but know this-- it ain't about status, or wins, or losses, or titles. It's about me being MYSELF. It's about me being comfortable in my own God damn shoes. I have that now, and with that... I have removed any limitations that were placed on myself. "Pantheon Steve Orbit" was Steve Orbit in a fuckin' cage. I'm free now. I'm a fuckin' free man... free to win this God damn War, win the Tag Titles, and show Pantheon EXACTLY what I've become WITHOUT them.
Orbit crosses out the first face.
Steve Orbit: Daniel Booker. My "replacement". Yeah, how's that workin' out? Win any World Titles yet? No, no five-month reign? Oh. You step out of Pantheon's shadow yet? No? Oh. From where I'm sittin', it looks like you're more of a place holder than a fuckin' replacement. Don't think I forgot about that punch in my face when you made your "grand debut". So far, punching Steve Orbit in the face has been the highlight of your career. It's the only thing you've done that's notable. Fuck you, Booker. Fuck Pantheon for even entertaining the idea that they could find a replacement for me. That's how these people think. They didn't even realize what they HAD... if they think they can replace a mother fucker like ME, with a mother fucker like YOU. Sorry mother fuckers.
Orbit X's another face.
Steve Orbit: Jayson Price. What's there to say? Some people... even within Pantheon, they think you're the reason I defected. Couldn't be further from the truth, but you DID piss me off a whole lot. You got under my skin, Price, with all your pompous ass bullshit. Actin' like you better than anybody. I was ready to go, ready to fight in that Clockwork Orange House of Fun. I brought my fuckin' A-game. You showed up drunk and late-- story of your career. There's nothing else to say. I fuckin' demolished you in the House of Fun and I'll do it again in the War match, if you want some-- I got a feeling you'll be stayin' as far away from me as possible. I'll be surprised if you even show up.
Orbit moves on, X'ing another face.
Steve Orbit: Corey Black, we have a funny history, don't we. I don't know if I ever really liked you-- maybe you feel the same about me, I dunno. Yeah, we did the "Two Black Dudes" thing. You thought you were black. Corey, I got news for you... YOU AREN'T EVEN BLACK! Yeah, that's right. You ain't BLACK. You ain't foolin' anybody, not anymore. You know, I thought you were tryin' to give me a shot when you asked me to join Pantheon. I thought you really wanted to help me. Turns out, you wanted me to LEAD Pantheon. You wanted me to represent Pantheon, workin' every single fuckin' week, while the rest of y'all just hang back and live off the spoils of my victories. Well, guess what, I ain't havin' that shit. I ain't nobody's ho, Corey. I know what you thinkin'-- oh yeah, you gonna get yourself some revenge against Steve Orbit. You gonna make an example out of me for turning on Pantheon. Mother fucker, I'm gonna show you why I never needed you OR Pantheon. Tag Titles? You and Fly are some weak ass champs. Shit, one of y'all will either get hurt or take a fuckin' vacation within the next month anyway, so how long y'all think you really was gonna hold 'em? Seth booked this match, not because ICE or myself needs the Tag Titles, but because we are willing to WORK. We can hold multiple titles and defend them all in one night, and still have energy to party all night afterwards. The Vapor Kings are about WORK. Pantheon is about sittin' back collecting royalties and only showing up when it's absolutely necessary. Bitch, we fight for fun. We fight because we have to. We fight to conquer the hate. So yeah, I'ma show the world a new side of Corey Black-- Corey Black & Blue. Hah. Fucker.
Orbit chuckles at his bad joke... and crosses off the last circled X.
Steve Orbit: The man of the hour, Jonny Fly. Oh boy, do we have some shit brewin' between us. We got the Pantheon emotional feelings, we got the Tag match, we got our upcoming match at One. And we got the fact that Jonny Fly is the reigning War winner from 2013. Fly, you one of the best talkers in the game, for real. You can convince anybody that your opponent ain't shit and that you are fuckin' invincible, but know this one fact of life-- you cannot bullshit a bullshitter, Fly. You know I'm on to you. You know that besides Black, I probably know you better than anybody on the WCF roster. I've definitely BEATEN you more than anybody else. That's a fact that you can't argue. But hey, Fly, don't sweat it. In the scheme of things you gonna be remembered as one of, if not the greatest of all time-- but there will always be that footnote, with my smiling black ass. It will read somethin' like "our hero Jonny Fly, he just could never truly overcome his greatest foe, Steve Orbit". Man, you can steamroll right over everybody else, but when it comes to Steve Orbit? Nothing is guaranteed. Am I right? Fly, that's why tickets for One started sellin' out as soon as we announced our rematch almost a YEAR in advance. When you put Jonny Fly and Steve Orbit in the ring, NOTHING is guaranteed. Fly versus anybody else, you know who to bet on. Fly versus Steve Orbit... who knows. Truly could go either way. And that excites the fans, they wanna see that. They don't wanna see Fly runnin' through everybody to no end. I'm sayin'-- there's no denying that you are great, Fly. You are a master of every fuckin' corner of a ring... but I'm havin' the best year of my life. I'm primed and in position to win this entire fuckin' War. Me and my Brother are ready to win the Tag straps. Me and my Brother are ready to go main event One, as brothers, Tag Team champions, fight for the World title. Come on, Fly, you're a sucker for the dramatic, right? Even you should be able to appreciate that. But don't worry-- we can still do our match. Maybe we can open the show.
Orbit winks at the camera. He looks at the poster one more time... there's one more face. It's actually the top half of a body, hovering over the entire roster. That's right, this man takes up half the poster. Orbit takes his black marker and draws a large X, crossing out the picture.
Steve Orbit: THIS mother fucker. TORTURE. I was pumped when you returned earlier this year, homie. It was like a dream come true bein' able to tag with you. I mean, if you lookin' for a tag partner, you can do much worse than Torture, right? That's what I thought. And then... Blast happened. And you stepped in the ring... you pulled down your pants, spread your ass cheeks, and you took a shit in the middle of the fuckin' ring. You dropped a big stinky turd, right on the canvas. Why the fuck did you do that, Torture? I'm thinkin' to myself, THIS is the big bad Torture? This is the man who everybody is so afraid of? This mother fucker who is throwin' his own shit around the ring like a God damn chimpanzee?
Orbit blinks.
Steve Orbit: And then you got pinned by Waylon Cash. WAYLON CASH! The mother fucker loses to everybody! The guy who I beat a month later with ease, pinned you in the middle of the fuckin' ring. I ain't never been pinned by no Waylon Cash, I can tell you that much, Torture. So yeah, congrats on your big return. I'm sure everybody is real fuckin' excited. Maybe this time you can take your little dick out and jerk one off during the match. Maybe piss in the corner you fuckin' psycho. I know one thing, it ain't gonna be this AMAZING GREAT COMEBACK OH MY GOD! The people ain't that excited, man. They don't care as much as you think they do. Your head is too fuckin' big, homie. It's time to come back to reality. It's time... for a Pimp Slap. Eliminating you won't even mean shit no more, not after getting your ass kicked by WAYLON CASH. Jeez, man. You supposed to be a legend. You fuckin' up your legacy, homie. Let me guess, you another one of those mother fuckers who ain't save enough during his prime, and now you gotta show up a few times a year just to keep the bills paid. That's fine. Can't knock the hustle. I CAN knock you on your ass, though. And I will.
Orbit holds up the poster. There is one face without an X. It is, of course, Steve Orbit's face.
Steve Orbit: And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Your 2014 WAR Winner, Hardcore Champion, Tag Team Champion... and mother fuckin' Vapor King. "The Mack"... Steve... Orbit.
Orbit leans back in his chair, laughing to himself. He picks up his Hennessy bottle and takes a sip. We fade out.
