Previously Unaired Pre-ONE footage!
Jan 25, 2019 10:26:19 GMT -5
Mikey eXtreme, Bonnie Blue, and 2 more like this
Post by Stephen Singh on Jan 25, 2019 10:26:19 GMT -5
WCF Headquarters
Reading Pennsylvania
Dec 23, 2:15
Prior to the go-home Slam preceding ONE
Taking place immediately prior to Michael X’s The Book of eXtreme: One.More.Day.
Corey Black tried not to spend much time here. The office was run-down and still reeked of cheap whiskey; there was nothing he could do here that he couldn’t do from a much homier castle or even a Taylor Swift tour bus. But with the go-home show for ONE set to take place here in Reading tomorrow evening, Black reluctantly set up a temporary command post. Unsurprisingly, there was still plenty on his mind in advance of ONE. The main event was set but had been met with some pushback from the internet wrestling community and its mouthpiece, the Brofessor. Infinity Stones were yet to be decided tomorrow night but Black wanted a unification match at ONE after their long journey this year. The Internet was its normal dregs of society with various WCF superstars haranguing each other over Golden God knows what. The twitter tete-a-tete was always good for ratings and revenue but rarely actually warranted attention from the King of All Wrestlers. Two chirping little birds had given him pause for a number of weeks though, sauntering in from Action Wrestling and demanding ring time with the best tag team the Dub had to offer. Their demands had been met with silence but were certainly noted.
Currently, however, none of that was on Corey Black’s mind. He was occupied instead by the contents of a zip file he’d been sent earlier that day. Once opened, the contents locked up Black’s phone, forcing him to re-open it on a laptop. There was a myriad of files, photos, recordings, and written testimonies from a variety of sources. All of it was concerning one man in his employ and had set the King of All Wrestlers’ teeth on edge. Initially, Black was livid with the liar and cheat but later became disappointed in himself. Liars lie and cheaters cheat. That’s what this man had always done and Black should have known better. So now what to do with--
YOU’RE WELCOME!
The door to the office had burst open as Stephen Singh pre-emptively answered Corey Black’s future gratitude. Singh in his Sunday’s best--a tailored, navy blue suit, $600 shoes and an unfortunate eyesore of an immobilizer on the knee injured by The Guardians over a month ago--Black didn’t lift his eyes from the laptop screen.
Singh: Cue up that Moana soundtrack because I don’t have anything more to say than, YOU’RE WELCOME!
Black lifts his eyes to Singh inquisitively but doesn’t move a single other muscle in his body.
Singh: I know, Corington, you haven’t said “thanks” yet but that’s only because you’re not aware of all the cash-money I just pulled back into this heap! Stephen Singh, Interim General Manager and Generally the Man has just re-signed….the Honey Badger himself...the Coked up Madman….ZOMBIE MCFUCKIN’ MORRIS! And just in time for ONE!
Though Corey knows ZMAC puts butts in seats (even if those butts are of people of the sickest, twisted sort) but isn’t ready to express any sort of gratitude to his underling. Black’s eyes return to the laptop screen.
Singh: Uhh...hello, did you hear me? I just put another MARQUEE name on the...ummm...marquee...for ONE? You’re welcome!
With a sigh, Corey Black turns his laptop toward his Interim GM and Head of Concessions.
Singh: This...uhh...where did you get this?
The screen was filled with evidence that Stephen Singh was, in fact, cleared to wrestle and had been for a number of weeks. It appears the doctors Singh originally saw had been “persuaded” one way or another to shelf him indefinitely and report to his employer as such. It looked like Theivin’ Stephen was stealing some paid time on the IR. Singh’s mind spun, looking for a yarn to spin to get out of this but he faltered. He clicked on one window, then another, then another. There was too much evidence, there was no tale to tell. No devious dialogue or dishonest diatribe would rescue him here. The Golden God was got. So he could only repeat his question.
Singh: Who the fuck sent you this?
Black: Don’t know. The email address was just a series of numbers at a gmail account. But whoever it was, they sure do have eyes on you.
Singh was reasonably troubled by the amount of surveillance it appeared he was under. Pictures, video, voice recordings...Singh had been watched for at least a month now. Maybe longer? How long did it go back? Singh was spiralling, wondering who and why and how. None of that mattered to Black.
Black: So you’re cleared then. And since you’ve been cashing my damn paycheck all this time without breaking a damn drop of sweat, let’s make sure you see some action at ONE.
Singh: That’s in just a few weeks, I’m not sure I’m in sha--
Black: I’m not sure I give a damn if you’re in shape. See, I’ve had these two Action Wrestling shitbirds trying to stir something up on Twitter and yap their way into a Tag Title match in my WCF, where things are earned. I was intending to ignore them, the same as any true fans ignore Action Wrestling other than when I grace their ring to murk their pathetic Wrestler of the Year. But now with this added piece of information, I’ve been presented a true win-win. You’re going to face Power Word: Kill at ONE.
Singh: But there’s barely time to prepare for that! I haven’t been training for over a month! And I don’t have a partner! And how is this win-win for you?! You’re just going to let AW’s castoffs come in here and take advantage of a disadvantaged former World Champion in a handicap match?!
Black: You see boy, if you manage to win then it’s great for the WCF. Our superiority to Action Wrestling is reinforced for the 83rd time, and that means more money. If they whip the living shit out of you then that means I got to watch two people whip the living shit out of you. See? A win-win. Besides, no one said it was a handicap match.
Before Singh can protest, Black raises a hand to shush him and then presses down the button on a speaker to his receptionist. Nothing happens. He presses again and still nothing.
Singh: Man this place is a shithole.
Black: And it reeks like Lerch’s cheap whiskey.
The new CEO yells to his receptionist.
Black: SEND IN MY TWO THIRTY!
With a perfectly shaved head, the beard of a madman and the dark, unnerving stare of a killer, Mikey eXtreme walked through the door. Or was he Michael X? Singh didn’t know. Black didn’t know. Did the man who won Ultimate Showdown even know at this point?
Singh: Not a fucking chance.
X: That’s exactly what they’ll have. No fucking chance.
Black: The once high and mighty Church of Singh will face Power Word: Kill at ONE.
Singh begins to raise his voice protest again but Black raises a hand and shakes his head.
Black: The decision is made. If you don’t want this match, then maybe you don’t want this contract you’re under either. If you want further discussion, it’ll be about that.
Singh meets Corey's indifferent glower for a moment before turning his gaze toward the black-eyed Michael X who seems more than ready to destroy whatever is put in front of him. Seeing no recourse in their two stares, Singh grunts in frustration and storms out of the room, just brushing shoulders with X as he does.
Reading Pennsylvania
Dec 23, 2:15
Prior to the go-home Slam preceding ONE
Taking place immediately prior to Michael X’s The Book of eXtreme: One.More.Day.
Corey Black tried not to spend much time here. The office was run-down and still reeked of cheap whiskey; there was nothing he could do here that he couldn’t do from a much homier castle or even a Taylor Swift tour bus. But with the go-home show for ONE set to take place here in Reading tomorrow evening, Black reluctantly set up a temporary command post. Unsurprisingly, there was still plenty on his mind in advance of ONE. The main event was set but had been met with some pushback from the internet wrestling community and its mouthpiece, the Brofessor. Infinity Stones were yet to be decided tomorrow night but Black wanted a unification match at ONE after their long journey this year. The Internet was its normal dregs of society with various WCF superstars haranguing each other over Golden God knows what. The twitter tete-a-tete was always good for ratings and revenue but rarely actually warranted attention from the King of All Wrestlers. Two chirping little birds had given him pause for a number of weeks though, sauntering in from Action Wrestling and demanding ring time with the best tag team the Dub had to offer. Their demands had been met with silence but were certainly noted.
Currently, however, none of that was on Corey Black’s mind. He was occupied instead by the contents of a zip file he’d been sent earlier that day. Once opened, the contents locked up Black’s phone, forcing him to re-open it on a laptop. There was a myriad of files, photos, recordings, and written testimonies from a variety of sources. All of it was concerning one man in his employ and had set the King of All Wrestlers’ teeth on edge. Initially, Black was livid with the liar and cheat but later became disappointed in himself. Liars lie and cheaters cheat. That’s what this man had always done and Black should have known better. So now what to do with--
YOU’RE WELCOME!
The door to the office had burst open as Stephen Singh pre-emptively answered Corey Black’s future gratitude. Singh in his Sunday’s best--a tailored, navy blue suit, $600 shoes and an unfortunate eyesore of an immobilizer on the knee injured by The Guardians over a month ago--Black didn’t lift his eyes from the laptop screen.
Singh: Cue up that Moana soundtrack because I don’t have anything more to say than, YOU’RE WELCOME!
Black lifts his eyes to Singh inquisitively but doesn’t move a single other muscle in his body.
Singh: I know, Corington, you haven’t said “thanks” yet but that’s only because you’re not aware of all the cash-money I just pulled back into this heap! Stephen Singh, Interim General Manager and Generally the Man has just re-signed….the Honey Badger himself...the Coked up Madman….ZOMBIE MCFUCKIN’ MORRIS! And just in time for ONE!
Though Corey knows ZMAC puts butts in seats (even if those butts are of people of the sickest, twisted sort) but isn’t ready to express any sort of gratitude to his underling. Black’s eyes return to the laptop screen.
Singh: Uhh...hello, did you hear me? I just put another MARQUEE name on the...ummm...marquee...for ONE? You’re welcome!
With a sigh, Corey Black turns his laptop toward his Interim GM and Head of Concessions.
Singh: This...uhh...where did you get this?
The screen was filled with evidence that Stephen Singh was, in fact, cleared to wrestle and had been for a number of weeks. It appears the doctors Singh originally saw had been “persuaded” one way or another to shelf him indefinitely and report to his employer as such. It looked like Theivin’ Stephen was stealing some paid time on the IR. Singh’s mind spun, looking for a yarn to spin to get out of this but he faltered. He clicked on one window, then another, then another. There was too much evidence, there was no tale to tell. No devious dialogue or dishonest diatribe would rescue him here. The Golden God was got. So he could only repeat his question.
Singh: Who the fuck sent you this?
Black: Don’t know. The email address was just a series of numbers at a gmail account. But whoever it was, they sure do have eyes on you.
Singh was reasonably troubled by the amount of surveillance it appeared he was under. Pictures, video, voice recordings...Singh had been watched for at least a month now. Maybe longer? How long did it go back? Singh was spiralling, wondering who and why and how. None of that mattered to Black.
Black: So you’re cleared then. And since you’ve been cashing my damn paycheck all this time without breaking a damn drop of sweat, let’s make sure you see some action at ONE.
Singh: That’s in just a few weeks, I’m not sure I’m in sha--
Black: I’m not sure I give a damn if you’re in shape. See, I’ve had these two Action Wrestling shitbirds trying to stir something up on Twitter and yap their way into a Tag Title match in my WCF, where things are earned. I was intending to ignore them, the same as any true fans ignore Action Wrestling other than when I grace their ring to murk their pathetic Wrestler of the Year. But now with this added piece of information, I’ve been presented a true win-win. You’re going to face Power Word: Kill at ONE.
Singh: But there’s barely time to prepare for that! I haven’t been training for over a month! And I don’t have a partner! And how is this win-win for you?! You’re just going to let AW’s castoffs come in here and take advantage of a disadvantaged former World Champion in a handicap match?!
Black: You see boy, if you manage to win then it’s great for the WCF. Our superiority to Action Wrestling is reinforced for the 83rd time, and that means more money. If they whip the living shit out of you then that means I got to watch two people whip the living shit out of you. See? A win-win. Besides, no one said it was a handicap match.
Before Singh can protest, Black raises a hand to shush him and then presses down the button on a speaker to his receptionist. Nothing happens. He presses again and still nothing.
Singh: Man this place is a shithole.
Black: And it reeks like Lerch’s cheap whiskey.
The new CEO yells to his receptionist.
Black: SEND IN MY TWO THIRTY!
With a perfectly shaved head, the beard of a madman and the dark, unnerving stare of a killer, Mikey eXtreme walked through the door. Or was he Michael X? Singh didn’t know. Black didn’t know. Did the man who won Ultimate Showdown even know at this point?
Singh: Not a fucking chance.
X: That’s exactly what they’ll have. No fucking chance.
Black: The once high and mighty Church of Singh will face Power Word: Kill at ONE.
Singh begins to raise his voice protest again but Black raises a hand and shakes his head.
Black: The decision is made. If you don’t want this match, then maybe you don’t want this contract you’re under either. If you want further discussion, it’ll be about that.
Singh meets Corey's indifferent glower for a moment before turning his gaze toward the black-eyed Michael X who seems more than ready to destroy whatever is put in front of him. Seeing no recourse in their two stares, Singh grunts in frustration and storms out of the room, just brushing shoulders with X as he does.
