Post by Deleted on Mar 9, 2009 16:30:30 GMT -5
"Push It" by Static X plays in the room as the scene opens up in a gym. The camera is positioned right in front of a weight bench. There's a man laying on it. He's slowly pushing up 350 pounds of weight from his chest until his arms are extended. Two random men stand on each side, apparently his spotters while he does the workout. As soon as his arms lock, he lets the bar and weight fall back. It makes a clanging sound as it hits the safety bar and the man lets the weight slide down it until it rests in its normal spot.
The man breathes in and out for a few seconds before sitting up. It's WCF owner, Gravedigger, sweat pouring down his face. Gravedigger grins as he notices the camera. He reaches down out of sight of the camera and comes back with a bottle of water in one hand, a towel in the other. Gravedigger takes the cap off of the bottle, drinks for a couple of seconds, puts the cap back on and then wipes the sweat off of his face. He gathers his breath and then looks at the camera.
Gravedigger: So, Corey. You think you're gonna get one up on ol' Gravedigger here by giving me an opportunity at getting a shot at the US title here in the future. All I have to do is win this match you've placed me in. The US title?
Gravedigger presses his lips together and nods, as if he understands.
Gravedigger: This is your way of saying you don't think I'm good enough for the world title. You fear the idea of me in the world title scene again. You fear it because you know me walking away from a world title match empty-handed is a rarity. It's happened once before in my first real match back here in WCF a couple of months ago. We both know it wouldn't happen again. So you give me this US title match against a bunch of nobodies. A bunch of losers. A bunch of scum-sucking leeches.
You give me this match knowing I'll likely win, especially if I try. You give me this match knowing that I will then go on to face the US champion. Logan...the US champion. I would easily defeat him again. I've been in enough matches over the last few weeks that I'm slowly shedding the ring rust that has gathered upon my bones. I know what Logan is made of. I would destroy him in the ring again. But that is the future. That is then, this is now. Now, I face several men in a match. You put me in the ring with Chris Avery. Torture's lapdog with confidence issues. Chris, keep having those issues. Don't listen to Torture or anyone else who tells you that you can do it. You can't. We both know that. You're nothing. You're going to be stepping into the ring with Gravedigger. I'm the Epitome of Hardcore. You can't hang with me. I've won the title here on more than one occasion, I've won the tag titles here. I've won countless other world titles elsewhere, tag titles, hardcore titles.
One of the spotters walks by and taps Gravedigger on the arm. He glances up at the guy who points to the side. Gravedigger looks in that direction then turns back to him, nodding. Gravedigger looks back at the camera.
Gravedigger: Hold that thought, I gotta head over here real quick. Follow me if you want.
Gravedigger stands up and walks over to a mirror where there is a wall of dumbbells lined along it. The camera follows Gravedigger. He stands in front of the 80-pound dumbbells and picks them up with no effort at all. Gravedigger walks over to an incline bench with them and sits down on it, balancing each dumbbell on his knees. He rocks back for a second and then lifts the dumbbells above his head and slowly goes up and down with them. After he repeats it 12 times, he rests them back on his knees, rocks forward, and stands up with them. Gravedigger walks back over and puts them back on their rack. He turns back to the camera.
Gravedigger: Robb "Diablos Bojangles" Morrison. Seriously? I don't even remember seeing his name on the roster when I planted Seth's skull into the mat nor do I remember signing papers for a man by that name. Who the hell is this guy? You also place me in the ring with Biohazard and Snad. Seriously, this has got to be a joke, Corey. You really must be afraid of me messing with your chances of getting the world title. I will win this match and I will go on to defeat the US champion. Then I'll set my sights on the World title, too. A ladder match?
Gravedigger laughs.
Gravedigger: I swear, you are trying your hardest to stack the deck in my favor so you gaurantee that I win the title shot. You're putting the Epitome of Hardcore in his element against a ring full of nobodies.
Gravedigger starts to turn away but holds up a finger and stops, then turns around to the camera again.
Gravedigger: You know what's funny to me? This Friday at XIII could easily be the best night ever. By the time the smoke clears that night, I could be in line for a US title shot and could also be signing your retirement papers. This is of course assuming that you make it through tonight's Slam when you're in the Last Chance Battle Royal, but I'm not gonna say too much on that or you in general. Let's just say that everyone should tune in tonight. I have some things I want to address.
The scene fades to black as Gravedigger walks back over to the dumbbells along the wall.
The man breathes in and out for a few seconds before sitting up. It's WCF owner, Gravedigger, sweat pouring down his face. Gravedigger grins as he notices the camera. He reaches down out of sight of the camera and comes back with a bottle of water in one hand, a towel in the other. Gravedigger takes the cap off of the bottle, drinks for a couple of seconds, puts the cap back on and then wipes the sweat off of his face. He gathers his breath and then looks at the camera.
Gravedigger: So, Corey. You think you're gonna get one up on ol' Gravedigger here by giving me an opportunity at getting a shot at the US title here in the future. All I have to do is win this match you've placed me in. The US title?
Gravedigger presses his lips together and nods, as if he understands.
Gravedigger: This is your way of saying you don't think I'm good enough for the world title. You fear the idea of me in the world title scene again. You fear it because you know me walking away from a world title match empty-handed is a rarity. It's happened once before in my first real match back here in WCF a couple of months ago. We both know it wouldn't happen again. So you give me this US title match against a bunch of nobodies. A bunch of losers. A bunch of scum-sucking leeches.
You give me this match knowing I'll likely win, especially if I try. You give me this match knowing that I will then go on to face the US champion. Logan...the US champion. I would easily defeat him again. I've been in enough matches over the last few weeks that I'm slowly shedding the ring rust that has gathered upon my bones. I know what Logan is made of. I would destroy him in the ring again. But that is the future. That is then, this is now. Now, I face several men in a match. You put me in the ring with Chris Avery. Torture's lapdog with confidence issues. Chris, keep having those issues. Don't listen to Torture or anyone else who tells you that you can do it. You can't. We both know that. You're nothing. You're going to be stepping into the ring with Gravedigger. I'm the Epitome of Hardcore. You can't hang with me. I've won the title here on more than one occasion, I've won the tag titles here. I've won countless other world titles elsewhere, tag titles, hardcore titles.
One of the spotters walks by and taps Gravedigger on the arm. He glances up at the guy who points to the side. Gravedigger looks in that direction then turns back to him, nodding. Gravedigger looks back at the camera.
Gravedigger: Hold that thought, I gotta head over here real quick. Follow me if you want.
Gravedigger stands up and walks over to a mirror where there is a wall of dumbbells lined along it. The camera follows Gravedigger. He stands in front of the 80-pound dumbbells and picks them up with no effort at all. Gravedigger walks over to an incline bench with them and sits down on it, balancing each dumbbell on his knees. He rocks back for a second and then lifts the dumbbells above his head and slowly goes up and down with them. After he repeats it 12 times, he rests them back on his knees, rocks forward, and stands up with them. Gravedigger walks back over and puts them back on their rack. He turns back to the camera.
Gravedigger: Robb "Diablos Bojangles" Morrison. Seriously? I don't even remember seeing his name on the roster when I planted Seth's skull into the mat nor do I remember signing papers for a man by that name. Who the hell is this guy? You also place me in the ring with Biohazard and Snad. Seriously, this has got to be a joke, Corey. You really must be afraid of me messing with your chances of getting the world title. I will win this match and I will go on to defeat the US champion. Then I'll set my sights on the World title, too. A ladder match?
Gravedigger laughs.
Gravedigger: I swear, you are trying your hardest to stack the deck in my favor so you gaurantee that I win the title shot. You're putting the Epitome of Hardcore in his element against a ring full of nobodies.
Gravedigger starts to turn away but holds up a finger and stops, then turns around to the camera again.
Gravedigger: You know what's funny to me? This Friday at XIII could easily be the best night ever. By the time the smoke clears that night, I could be in line for a US title shot and could also be signing your retirement papers. This is of course assuming that you make it through tonight's Slam when you're in the Last Chance Battle Royal, but I'm not gonna say too much on that or you in general. Let's just say that everyone should tune in tonight. I have some things I want to address.
The scene fades to black as Gravedigger walks back over to the dumbbells along the wall.
