Post by Johnny Reb on Mar 23, 2009 13:26:29 GMT -5
Somewhere in the United States, within an oversized hotel conference room, a gathering of reporters, photographers, and cameramen waits. Before them is a long table, set with a singular microphone. The sounds of conversation are a muted hum. As if on cue, the reporters fall silent. A figure emerges onto the makeshift stage with an exaggerated sense of his own importance, and a swagger to match.
The figure is clothed in a charcoal-grey business suit, tousled blond hair neatly combed, his face clean-shaven. His blue-green eyes take in the scene before him for a moment. Then, with slow deliberation, he takes his seat behind the microphone. When he speaks, his voice is smooth and cultured, with more than a hint of a deep Southern accent.
Johnny Reb:
Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of the press. In just a moment, I will be takin’ your questions, but first, I wanted to introduce myself properly to the viewin’ audience of WCF.
He pauses, glancing around the room as the reporters shift in their seats, each preparing to be the first to have his or her question acknowledged.
Johnny Reb:
Granted, y’all know my face. You know my name. You may even know my legacy, so unfortunately cut short. But for those of you who don’t, know this: I am, perhaps, one of the best – if not the best – wrestlers to have never held a world title. I plan… to change this.
Reb gives his captive audience a roguish grin that comes off as malicious and just a bit mad.
Johnny Reb:
Now, it was the sudden and not altogether unexpected termination of my contract with GWC that brought me… here. Y’see, I heard about this travesty of a farewell match, and at first, I wondered why I hadn’t been immediately thought of as a participant. An’ then I realized, of course, that it was not intended for those who had been entirely devoted to – and dependent on – the GWC of old. It was, in fact, not so much a tribute to my former place of employment as it was a showcase of…
Here, Johnny pauses and regards the reporters with equal measures of hostile challenge and passive curiousity.
Johnny Reb:
…sadly, inferior talent. I wanted to send a message, and that’s why I intervened. But alas, I found myself upstaged by, of all things, Slipknot.
He shrugs, before indicating that he’s ready to take questions from the reporters. One, a young woman dressed in a Kelly green business suit, and black plastic-framed cat’s-eye glasses, waves her hand frantically. Johnny gives her a nod.
Reporter:
Mr. Reb…. Ironically, you find yourself engaged in a three-way match tonight with two of your former co-workers, one of whom was also involved in the GWC tribute match. What are your thoughts on that?
Reb gives the woman a smirk as he takes a moment to consider his reply.
Johnny Reb:
It’s no secret that Mr. Kane and I have had a…somewhat adversarial past. I don’t think that’s goin’ to be a problem tonight. Mr. Kane seems to believe that Yours Truly ain’t worth any particular effort. I aim to change his mind about that.
Another reporter, this one in a tweed jacket with suede patches over the elbows, speaks up without waiting for Reb’s acknowledgement.
Reporter #2:
But isn’t it true, Johnny, that you have never single-handedly defeated Brad Kane in the ring?
Reb scowls darkly, but the reporter ignores this.
Reporter #2:
And isn’t it further true that you’ve been beaten at least twice by Ryan Daniels?
Johnny’s gaze smolders, but he manages to retain his calm.
Johnny Reb:
Let the past take care of itself, sir. This is a new beginnin’ for me. What happened then has no bearin’ on what will happen tonight. Y’see, Mr. Kane is lost in the hubris that accompanies the sort of long and storied career that he’s had. An’ as for Mr. Daniels….
Reb shrugs noncommittally.
Johnny Reb:
Let’s just say, neither of these men feels they have anythin’ to prove. But I do.
Reporter #2:
You certainly do, Johnny. The odds are stacked against you in this match. However, I think the question on the mind of every wrestling fan is this: Have you made peace with your family?
Johnny’s teeth clench tightly, turning his scowl into a feral snarl.
Johnny Reb:
My family is my own affair. Not yours, and certainly not the so-called fans’.
He pauses for a moment, considering.
Johnny Reb:
I believe I’m done answerin’ questions.
Abruptly, Johnny rises from his seat and stalks away, ignoring the shouts and raised hands of the reporters. Flash bulbs ignite again, capturing his departure in a series of unflattering images as the scene fades away.
The figure is clothed in a charcoal-grey business suit, tousled blond hair neatly combed, his face clean-shaven. His blue-green eyes take in the scene before him for a moment. Then, with slow deliberation, he takes his seat behind the microphone. When he speaks, his voice is smooth and cultured, with more than a hint of a deep Southern accent.
Johnny Reb:
Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of the press. In just a moment, I will be takin’ your questions, but first, I wanted to introduce myself properly to the viewin’ audience of WCF.
He pauses, glancing around the room as the reporters shift in their seats, each preparing to be the first to have his or her question acknowledged.
Johnny Reb:
Granted, y’all know my face. You know my name. You may even know my legacy, so unfortunately cut short. But for those of you who don’t, know this: I am, perhaps, one of the best – if not the best – wrestlers to have never held a world title. I plan… to change this.
Reb gives his captive audience a roguish grin that comes off as malicious and just a bit mad.
Johnny Reb:
Now, it was the sudden and not altogether unexpected termination of my contract with GWC that brought me… here. Y’see, I heard about this travesty of a farewell match, and at first, I wondered why I hadn’t been immediately thought of as a participant. An’ then I realized, of course, that it was not intended for those who had been entirely devoted to – and dependent on – the GWC of old. It was, in fact, not so much a tribute to my former place of employment as it was a showcase of…
Here, Johnny pauses and regards the reporters with equal measures of hostile challenge and passive curiousity.
Johnny Reb:
…sadly, inferior talent. I wanted to send a message, and that’s why I intervened. But alas, I found myself upstaged by, of all things, Slipknot.
He shrugs, before indicating that he’s ready to take questions from the reporters. One, a young woman dressed in a Kelly green business suit, and black plastic-framed cat’s-eye glasses, waves her hand frantically. Johnny gives her a nod.
Reporter:
Mr. Reb…. Ironically, you find yourself engaged in a three-way match tonight with two of your former co-workers, one of whom was also involved in the GWC tribute match. What are your thoughts on that?
Reb gives the woman a smirk as he takes a moment to consider his reply.
Johnny Reb:
It’s no secret that Mr. Kane and I have had a…somewhat adversarial past. I don’t think that’s goin’ to be a problem tonight. Mr. Kane seems to believe that Yours Truly ain’t worth any particular effort. I aim to change his mind about that.
Another reporter, this one in a tweed jacket with suede patches over the elbows, speaks up without waiting for Reb’s acknowledgement.
Reporter #2:
But isn’t it true, Johnny, that you have never single-handedly defeated Brad Kane in the ring?
Reb scowls darkly, but the reporter ignores this.
Reporter #2:
And isn’t it further true that you’ve been beaten at least twice by Ryan Daniels?
Johnny’s gaze smolders, but he manages to retain his calm.
Johnny Reb:
Let the past take care of itself, sir. This is a new beginnin’ for me. What happened then has no bearin’ on what will happen tonight. Y’see, Mr. Kane is lost in the hubris that accompanies the sort of long and storied career that he’s had. An’ as for Mr. Daniels….
Reb shrugs noncommittally.
Johnny Reb:
Let’s just say, neither of these men feels they have anythin’ to prove. But I do.
Reporter #2:
You certainly do, Johnny. The odds are stacked against you in this match. However, I think the question on the mind of every wrestling fan is this: Have you made peace with your family?
Johnny’s teeth clench tightly, turning his scowl into a feral snarl.
Johnny Reb:
My family is my own affair. Not yours, and certainly not the so-called fans’.
He pauses for a moment, considering.
Johnny Reb:
I believe I’m done answerin’ questions.
Abruptly, Johnny rises from his seat and stalks away, ignoring the shouts and raised hands of the reporters. Flash bulbs ignite again, capturing his departure in a series of unflattering images as the scene fades away.
