Post by Allen Guiliano on Sept 26, 2009 23:40:05 GMT -5
The silhouette of one of the most recognizable landmarks in the world can be seen as the scene opens. It is a picturesque setting of the building that will house the very ring in which 30 of WCF’s finest will battle it out for their shot at glory and the #1 contendership to the World Championship. It is the site where thousands will pay hundreds of dollars to have the privilege of watching the event life and the home base for the television network that will broadcast the historic occasion over the airways for thousands to witness all over the world. The building on 7th Avenue will be the center of the wrestling world for one night, September 27, at 8:00 Eastern Time when all hell breaks loose, when fans come to their feet, buy the merchandise of their favorite superstars, put their signs on display for all to see, and chant the names of those who they will be pulling for.
As a matter of fact, the surreal setting is in fact a picture as a hand makes its way into the frame and flips over the postcard. On the back, the dimensions, seating chart, and other information about The Garden can be read. The postcard is then fully removed from the frame and the back of a black leather seat becomes visible. The camera spins around to reveal a long black leather bench seat behind the driver that is occupied by none other than one of the top superstars to watch at War, the final entrant in the main event, Allen Guiliano. He is outfitted in his usual black designer suit and tie, and a pair of sunglasses that hide his eyes from the afternoon rays that seep through the tinted glass. A red athletic bag rests at his right side and a confident smile forms across is lips as the camera now directs its attention out the front window where the actual outline of Madison Square Garden can be seen. Guiliano leans forward over the driver’s seat and addresses the man behind the steering wheel.
How much farther if you don’t mind me asking? Not that I’m in a hurry, but I’m anxious to actually see the inside of such a renowned arena.
Shouldn’t be too much longer. We have a few more blocks before we hit the main road that will take you right to the back parking lot. I will try to get you there as quickly as I can, but traffic is quite unpredictable here in NYC.
I can only imagine what it must be like for you guys. Traffic in Vegas is bad enough, but it doesn’t even begin to compare to what it is like here in New York. And I actually do a bit of my own driving out in Nevada despite what people might think.
I don’t doubt you a bit and I’m glad you’ve chosen not to do any of your own driving here or I wouldn’t have a job now would I?
Both passenger and driver share a laugh at the last comment as Guiliano scoots over to the middle of the back seat, making conversation easier between the two occupants of the black Cadillac that has been provided to one of the WCF’s finest.
I suppose you are right, but hey let me ask you something? You follow professional wrestling at all or just hired to drive us around the city for the weekend we will be out here?
Oh, I can’t say that I really follow it, but I will give it a watch if I’m flipping through the channels and happen to find it airing on Sunday nights. My son follows it quite religiously though. He has been buzzing about the pay-per-view actually coming to New York for the last two months. He has been bugging his mother and I about getting tickets, but I don’t think he realizes what it actually costs to see you guys. Those things are tough to afford on a chauffer’s salary. A regular event we could probably get him to, but trying to find affordable tickets to this week’s event is like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
Well, I tell you what, they give us an allotment of tickets for each event and I always just give mine to some of the other guys that need extra seats, but this time I kept a few for myself just in case I ran into someone like you who was wanting to go, but didn’t quite have the means.
Oh, you don’t have to do that; we will be ordering it on television anyway. Besides, my son is a Johnny Reb fan anyway, don’t think he would be too excited if I told him I accepted tickets from Slickie T.
Guiliano unzips his back and reaches inside retrieving three of the hottest tickets in town and resting them in the passenger’s seat next to the driver.
Well, here are three tickets to sit ringside and if you don’t think your son would appreciate them from me, tell them that it was Johnny Reb that you drove to the arena and he said he guaranteed your son that he would win War for him. I always like to please a Slickie T fan, but any fan of the WCF is a friend of mine. And if I do happen to win War, I will make sure and have a little treat for your son after the match if you do use those tickets and it will be a little more than a signed 8 x 10 photo. I will make sure it is something that he can’t get anywhere else, but I can’t promise you I will get that chance. I sure in the hell will give it all I got though, there are some talented guys that I will be going up against.
I don’t think I can accept those tickets. It just wouldn’t be right to use your own personal tickets. I’m sure there is SOMEONE out there that you had in mind for these tickets and I want you to give them to them, not us.
No, no, if you don’t use those seats then I don’t want anyone to use them. When I get out of this car I’m leaving them in that seat and you can do with them what you please, but I will be awfully disappointed if I don’t see the three of you at ringside on Sunday night. Besides, it’s Johnny Reb that is giving you those seats, remember?
Ah yes, that’s right, I don’t know anything about you if my son asks. But if you don’t mind, since you are promising all this stuff for my son if you win, could you do me a little favor as well?
I can’t guarantee you anything, but I will sure try my best to meet your request.
Think you could get Anastasia Petrova’s number for me?
This time both men burst out in laughter as Allen was not expecting such a straight forward question or such a request.
Well, there are quite a few guys that have tried to get her digits and have failed miserably. Besides, she is Russian and I’m Italian, don’t know if there would be a common language there. Might be able to get you a signed photo or something but I don’t think it will have her number under the signature.
Ah, I was just giving you a hard time, and I’m sure that she still has memories of World War II when your side fought against hers. Doubt she would want to give you much credit for anything, but she is about the only one I care to watch to tell you the truth.
I’m sure you aren’t the only one that immediately stops channel searching when you see that bright red outfit of hers. But anyway, it was nice meeting you and if you could just drop me off as close to that back door as you could it would be much appreciated. And remember, I only want to see the three of you in those seats at ringside on Sunday…
Guiliano immediately exits the vehicle before the driver can respond. As he opens the door he grabs his bag out of the back seat and pushes the door closed with his foot before making a beeline for the door. Before entering, he glances over his shoulder and winks to the driver, giving him a cordial wave before disappearing behind into The Garden.
The Italian makes his way down a short hallway, flashing a credential that hangs from his gym bag to a uniformed security guard that stands just before the corridor of doors that lead to the rooms that have been designated to each of the superstars that will be taking place in the event on Sunday. The gold-plated nameplates seem to shimmer in the well lit hallway, the names seem to be in no particular order, but some seem to stand out more than others. Most names that Guiliano passes yield no reaction, but others seem to catch his attention, in particular the doors that are marked Hector Rodriguez, Logan, Mikami, Johnny Reb, and the one that yields the longest glance…Torture. The current World Champion seems to have had something to do with the arrangement of locker rooms as his new stable, the Team of Torture, seem to be on consecutive entrances. Guiliano finds his door directly across from that of Torture, glancing over his shoulder and shaking his head slightly as he pushes his way into his assigned room and tosses his bag onto a couch that resides just inside the entranceway.
War’s final entrant stands motionless as the wooden door shuts behind him. He glances over the room, taking in every detail, as the room appears to have been customized specifically for him. A life-size poster portraying his victory over Dake Ken has been strategically hung on the far wall, the flag of his home country hangs horizontally above the black leather couch, and a martini shaker and cocktail glass sit on a small glass coffee table between the couch and television. Ingredients for his favorite beverage, a Bronx martini, reside next to a full ice bucket to the right of the martini shaker. His wingtipped shoes make their way over the lush carpet that covers the concrete floor as he spots a small white envelope resting inside the wooden locker that resembles that of one that would be found in an NFL locker room. Guiliano reaches down and picks up the envelope, slowly tearing at a corner and sliding the contents into his hand. His thumbs slide under the folded edge of the paper and flip it open, revealing just eight scripted words that explain the lavishness of his weekend living quarters.
Antoni,
I hope you like it.
Sergio Viola
A smile forms over Guiliano’s face as he refolds the paper and slips it back into its original envelope before grabbing his gym bag and emptying its contents into the locker. He carefully hangs his tights from a hanger, sets his boots under them along with his elbow pads and a roll of athletic tape. After organizing his ring attire, he hangs a black towel inside the shower door and makes his way out of the room and back into the hallway that leads to the main floor of Madison Square Garden. He pulls his sunglasses up and lets them rest on the top of his head continuing his trek down the corridor and to the area where each superstar will wait his or her turn to make their way down the ramp and to the ring. Guiliano glances around noticing a single technician with a set of headphones on and a mixer in front of him doing sound checks for each microphone, radio headset, and entrance music. Allen stands behind him for a moment before extending a hand and lightly tapping him on the shoulder.
Only one of those you will be needing tomorrow night is “Lake of Fire” by Lordz of Brooklyn my friend.
The WCF staff member nearly falls off his stool, not expecting anyone to be standing behind him. His head whips around and a sigh of relief escapes his lungs as he acknowledges the superstar’s question.
Techie: Son of a…Damn, you scared the shit out of me man! Didn’t figure you guys would start showing up until tomorrow morning, not this afternoon. To tell you the truth, I haven’t started checking intros yet, but when I get to yours I will let you know.
It’s not a big deal, I was just giving you a hard time. They all set up out there or should I stay back here? I’d just like to take a little peek at what this place will actually look like tomorrow night if it is already put together. I hate to spoil my own surprise by seeing it before the entire facility is full of people, but I just can’t help myself. I don’t think I have ever been this excited to get out there and compete, but if you guys need space and I would be in the way feel free to tell me no.
As far as I know, the ring is already put together and the rigging is already in place. Only thing we have left to do is test the sound system, get the pyros set up, and load the videos for all of you guys. Well, we have to set up all the announce tables and ringside banners, but everything else is taken care of.
So you mind if I take a look?
Well, normally I wouldn’t do this, but since you are the favorite to win this thing, I guess I will let it slide. If you wait just a minute I’ll get your music and video loaded real quick and you can practice doing what you do when you walk down that ramp if you want.
Practice doing what I do? All I do is win wrestling matches and I can’t much practice that unless I have an opponent…come to think of it…
Guiliano looks to the technician with a raised brow as if he is thinking that the WCF staffer will be his “practice opponent”. The technician quickly backs away and gets up off his stool.[/color]
Oh no, I’m not going to be your punching bag. Go pick on one of those ring assembly guys, they are some big sons a bitches. I’m sure they would spar with you or something if you want to get some time in the ring.
I don’t want those wannabes out there, I want the real deal. I want the sound guy! I heard through the grapevine that you were some kind of badass. I guess not…You got my music cued up yet?
Not sure who you heard those rumors from, but they were full of shit. I sit behind a mixer and a set of speakers. There isn’t an ounce of badass in my body. And yes, I think I’ve got everything cued up. Once it starts playing, go out there and do your thing. I’ve got guys with headsets on out there telling me if it is loud enough and sounds right. They will also tell me if the video is right, so if something is screwed up on it don’t be alarmed, it will get fixed by tomorrow night.
I’m not worried about all that stuff. You guys are professionals and I trust in everything you guys are about. Just hit that magic play button and I will be your guinea pig for today.
The sound tech presses the button in front of him and nods toward the waiting Guiliano. The Italian takes a deep breath as he hears the sound of his entrance music blare through the empty stadium. It is the first time he hasn’t heard the screaming fans accompanying his theme, but he slowly pushes the curtains open, revealing the long ramp that leads down to the assembled ring that is adorned with banners that carry the WCF and WAR VIII logos. As he walks across the platform and reaches the transition from platform to ramp, his usual red, white, and green pyrotechnics explode behind him. A smile comes over the Italian’s face as he turns around to see his name scroll across the enormous screen once the pill settles into the “00” space on the roulette wheel. He once again turns his attention towards the ring as he saunters down the ramp, reaching the landing at the bottom. The ring steps are his next target as he slowly places each foot on the steel stairs in front of him and uses the ring post to vault himself over the top rope and into the center of the ring. Guiliano, still in his suit, climbs the ropes and stands atop one of the turnbuckles taking in the full effect of the empty Madison Square Garden.
Guiliano glances over the area from his perch on the steel post, noticing the large banners that hang from the rafters of The Garden. His eyes carefully examine each one and he begins to notice what each one of the 30 banners signifies. One banner has been hung for each participant in the main event on Sunday night and the lights that currently illuminate each poster will be turned off, one by one, as all but one superstar is eliminated. The arena once again goes silent as “Lake of Fire” begins to fade out over the speakers at the song’s conclusion. Guiliano remains focused on the banners that litter the rafters as he looks around, giving the thumbs up to the technician who has poked his head out of the curtain to make sure the audio was synched with the video. As the sound guy disappears once again, Guiliano notices that he is simply the lone soul left in one of the world’s most famous venues. He hops down from his seat on the turnbuckle and relaxes against the ropes, taking in the full aura of MSG, revealing the thoughts in his mind public.
Here it is in all of its glory, Madison Square Garden., a gem in the crown of the city that is New York. It is a venue that has housed world-class athletes for decades and celebrated numerous world championships by New York’s finest athletic teams and on Sunday it will celebrate yet another defining moment in the history of sports entertainment. Blood, sweat, and tears will soak the clean canvas that I now stand upon and 29 other men will make the walk down that very ramp in which I came and see THEIR colors, THEIR video, and hear THEIR music before they have THEIR hopes and dreams pulled out from underneath them. I am a humble man and I take no opponent lightly, but this remember this moment right now, because this is exactly how the ring will look on Sunday night when the dust has settled. One man will remain standing and that one man will be the one that currently occupies it, Allen Guiliano, Slickie T. It will be MY banner that will remain lit and MY goal of becoming World Champion that will remain alive. I agree to come out of retirement and enter the ring once again to do one thing and that was to be the best damn wrestler in the business and until that World Title is around my waist, I will continue to pursue my objective with passion and with a reckless abandonment that has never been seen before in the WCF or any other wrestling federation.
Seems that most of the competitors have cut promos where they address each the competitors that will be vying for the chance to be call War-winner, and I suppose I should probably do the same, but frankly, I shouldn’t have to reveal the numerous tactics that I have for each one of you that I know will watch this promo at some point before War. So instead of addressing each one of you and giving all of you the privilege of hearing me address you personally, I’m going to speak to each and every one of you at the same time, and I will do it only ONE time, so listen up.
Seth Lerch will claim that the new era of the WCF began when he opened the doors of the federation for the most recent time, but the true transformation of this organization will begin when the World Championship is back around the waist of a TRUE champion. Someone who has worked their way from the depths of the opening bouts, grinded out victories in the monotony of the midcard, proved their worth as main eventers and headlines, and eventually emerged as the best of the best by winning the most prestigious event that the World Championship Federation has to offer. Many of you out there are very worthy opponents and opponents that I have a lot of respect for and some of you are simply in this match because somewhere there is a piece of paper with your signature on it that categorizes you as a wrestler here in the WCF. A select few are actually top hopefuls to come away with a victory on Sunday night, but most of you are wide-eye newcomers that think you can just waltz in here and “dominate” right from the get go. There are some of you out there that celebrate your meaningless titles as a credential for why you should be taken seriously, but think about who you fear in this event. Think about the men who have been the talk of this event and think about the titles that they currently hold. Your Television Title, your United States Title, your Tag Team Titles, your #1 contenderships for any title, doesn’t mean a damn thing to me. I have preserved week in and week out in this federation, beaten the very best that it has to offer, successfully defended the United States Title for nearly a month, brought dignity, honor, and meaning back to it, and now I currently stand here without a thing to show for it. But who is it that you will fear the most on Sunday, who is it that you absolutely DO NOT want to see enter the ring on Sunday night, who is each and every one of you trying not to talk down to when you cut your promos? It’s not hard to see. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is. Hell, a man with half a brain could watch your faces and see what name causes it to cringe. As a matter of fact, I don’t even have to reveal the answer to the questions that I just posed, because it is literally right in front of your face.
It’s time for a real champion to emerge on Sunday. It’s time for this federation to rise to the top of the ranks. It’s time for a revolution in the way that things are happening around here. The reign of domination that Torture currently holds over the WCF is about to come to an end. His new Team of Torture is just a bunch of guys to shield him from the inevitable. Sure, the first order of business is to come away with a victory in the War event, but the ultimate aspiration is to dethrone the supremacy that currently exists. I have faced bigger challenges in the past and passed them without a hitch and this time will be no different. It is my time to bask in the glory of my efforts and that time will finally come this Sunday night. I know that each of you that are waiting to arrive at this very arena will bring all you’ve got tomorrow night, but the best you’ve got simply won’t be enough. I may not be the biggest competitor, I may not be the strongest competitor, and I may not be the fastest competitor, but I will guarantee you one thing. I am THE best competitor. Go ahead and start making excuses for why you couldn’t beat me because you will need them when Hank sits down with you and asks “What went wrong at War?” or “What happened at War?” or simply “Why didn’t you win War?”. Winning this event will mean more than anything I have ever accomplished. I would trade all the wealth I have amassed, all the money that comes through my casino each and every day, and all the titles I have one in the past for this one chance to prove I am THE very best. For this one chance to prove that my hard work, my determination, and my dedication have not gone by the way side.
This could very well be the defining moment in my career and if I do not come away as the victor at War, it will be something that stays with me for the rest of my career. It will be a situation where I continue to ask myself why I couldn’t succeed, why I couldn’t keep up the fight, or simply why I allowed myself to be pinned in such a crucial moment. But there is one thing I am sure of, one thing that I will GUARANTEE, and that is that there will be no doubting myself, because when I stand here, in this very ring, all alone, my music playing over the speakers, the crowd on their feet, the colors of Italia illuminating Madison Square Garden, then I will know what all the hard work was for. I will know why I went through the agony of all my previous defeats and why I put my body through so much pain and suffering. There is only one person who can possibly come out on top tomorrow night, only one person that simply will not submit, will not experience defeat and that one man is me. To each and every one of you, if you haven’t listened to a word I have said in my entire career, if what I just told you hasn’t sunk it, I want you to simply listen to my final four words and they will tell you what you will be facing when I enter that ring on Sunday night. FORZA ITALIA! MI AMORE!
The pure fire in the eyes of Guiliano can almost be felt through the lens as he finishes his final words before he will take the ring at War. The camera slowly pans away from the ring as Guiliano continues standing there, the lone man in the arena as the screen eventually fades to the black and the WCF logo appears.
As a matter of fact, the surreal setting is in fact a picture as a hand makes its way into the frame and flips over the postcard. On the back, the dimensions, seating chart, and other information about The Garden can be read. The postcard is then fully removed from the frame and the back of a black leather seat becomes visible. The camera spins around to reveal a long black leather bench seat behind the driver that is occupied by none other than one of the top superstars to watch at War, the final entrant in the main event, Allen Guiliano. He is outfitted in his usual black designer suit and tie, and a pair of sunglasses that hide his eyes from the afternoon rays that seep through the tinted glass. A red athletic bag rests at his right side and a confident smile forms across is lips as the camera now directs its attention out the front window where the actual outline of Madison Square Garden can be seen. Guiliano leans forward over the driver’s seat and addresses the man behind the steering wheel.
How much farther if you don’t mind me asking? Not that I’m in a hurry, but I’m anxious to actually see the inside of such a renowned arena.
Shouldn’t be too much longer. We have a few more blocks before we hit the main road that will take you right to the back parking lot. I will try to get you there as quickly as I can, but traffic is quite unpredictable here in NYC.
I can only imagine what it must be like for you guys. Traffic in Vegas is bad enough, but it doesn’t even begin to compare to what it is like here in New York. And I actually do a bit of my own driving out in Nevada despite what people might think.
I don’t doubt you a bit and I’m glad you’ve chosen not to do any of your own driving here or I wouldn’t have a job now would I?
Both passenger and driver share a laugh at the last comment as Guiliano scoots over to the middle of the back seat, making conversation easier between the two occupants of the black Cadillac that has been provided to one of the WCF’s finest.
I suppose you are right, but hey let me ask you something? You follow professional wrestling at all or just hired to drive us around the city for the weekend we will be out here?
Oh, I can’t say that I really follow it, but I will give it a watch if I’m flipping through the channels and happen to find it airing on Sunday nights. My son follows it quite religiously though. He has been buzzing about the pay-per-view actually coming to New York for the last two months. He has been bugging his mother and I about getting tickets, but I don’t think he realizes what it actually costs to see you guys. Those things are tough to afford on a chauffer’s salary. A regular event we could probably get him to, but trying to find affordable tickets to this week’s event is like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
Well, I tell you what, they give us an allotment of tickets for each event and I always just give mine to some of the other guys that need extra seats, but this time I kept a few for myself just in case I ran into someone like you who was wanting to go, but didn’t quite have the means.
Oh, you don’t have to do that; we will be ordering it on television anyway. Besides, my son is a Johnny Reb fan anyway, don’t think he would be too excited if I told him I accepted tickets from Slickie T.
Guiliano unzips his back and reaches inside retrieving three of the hottest tickets in town and resting them in the passenger’s seat next to the driver.
Well, here are three tickets to sit ringside and if you don’t think your son would appreciate them from me, tell them that it was Johnny Reb that you drove to the arena and he said he guaranteed your son that he would win War for him. I always like to please a Slickie T fan, but any fan of the WCF is a friend of mine. And if I do happen to win War, I will make sure and have a little treat for your son after the match if you do use those tickets and it will be a little more than a signed 8 x 10 photo. I will make sure it is something that he can’t get anywhere else, but I can’t promise you I will get that chance. I sure in the hell will give it all I got though, there are some talented guys that I will be going up against.
I don’t think I can accept those tickets. It just wouldn’t be right to use your own personal tickets. I’m sure there is SOMEONE out there that you had in mind for these tickets and I want you to give them to them, not us.
No, no, if you don’t use those seats then I don’t want anyone to use them. When I get out of this car I’m leaving them in that seat and you can do with them what you please, but I will be awfully disappointed if I don’t see the three of you at ringside on Sunday night. Besides, it’s Johnny Reb that is giving you those seats, remember?
Ah yes, that’s right, I don’t know anything about you if my son asks. But if you don’t mind, since you are promising all this stuff for my son if you win, could you do me a little favor as well?
I can’t guarantee you anything, but I will sure try my best to meet your request.
Think you could get Anastasia Petrova’s number for me?
This time both men burst out in laughter as Allen was not expecting such a straight forward question or such a request.
Well, there are quite a few guys that have tried to get her digits and have failed miserably. Besides, she is Russian and I’m Italian, don’t know if there would be a common language there. Might be able to get you a signed photo or something but I don’t think it will have her number under the signature.
Ah, I was just giving you a hard time, and I’m sure that she still has memories of World War II when your side fought against hers. Doubt she would want to give you much credit for anything, but she is about the only one I care to watch to tell you the truth.
I’m sure you aren’t the only one that immediately stops channel searching when you see that bright red outfit of hers. But anyway, it was nice meeting you and if you could just drop me off as close to that back door as you could it would be much appreciated. And remember, I only want to see the three of you in those seats at ringside on Sunday…
Guiliano immediately exits the vehicle before the driver can respond. As he opens the door he grabs his bag out of the back seat and pushes the door closed with his foot before making a beeline for the door. Before entering, he glances over his shoulder and winks to the driver, giving him a cordial wave before disappearing behind into The Garden.
The Italian makes his way down a short hallway, flashing a credential that hangs from his gym bag to a uniformed security guard that stands just before the corridor of doors that lead to the rooms that have been designated to each of the superstars that will be taking place in the event on Sunday. The gold-plated nameplates seem to shimmer in the well lit hallway, the names seem to be in no particular order, but some seem to stand out more than others. Most names that Guiliano passes yield no reaction, but others seem to catch his attention, in particular the doors that are marked Hector Rodriguez, Logan, Mikami, Johnny Reb, and the one that yields the longest glance…Torture. The current World Champion seems to have had something to do with the arrangement of locker rooms as his new stable, the Team of Torture, seem to be on consecutive entrances. Guiliano finds his door directly across from that of Torture, glancing over his shoulder and shaking his head slightly as he pushes his way into his assigned room and tosses his bag onto a couch that resides just inside the entranceway.
War’s final entrant stands motionless as the wooden door shuts behind him. He glances over the room, taking in every detail, as the room appears to have been customized specifically for him. A life-size poster portraying his victory over Dake Ken has been strategically hung on the far wall, the flag of his home country hangs horizontally above the black leather couch, and a martini shaker and cocktail glass sit on a small glass coffee table between the couch and television. Ingredients for his favorite beverage, a Bronx martini, reside next to a full ice bucket to the right of the martini shaker. His wingtipped shoes make their way over the lush carpet that covers the concrete floor as he spots a small white envelope resting inside the wooden locker that resembles that of one that would be found in an NFL locker room. Guiliano reaches down and picks up the envelope, slowly tearing at a corner and sliding the contents into his hand. His thumbs slide under the folded edge of the paper and flip it open, revealing just eight scripted words that explain the lavishness of his weekend living quarters.
Antoni,
I hope you like it.
Sergio Viola
A smile forms over Guiliano’s face as he refolds the paper and slips it back into its original envelope before grabbing his gym bag and emptying its contents into the locker. He carefully hangs his tights from a hanger, sets his boots under them along with his elbow pads and a roll of athletic tape. After organizing his ring attire, he hangs a black towel inside the shower door and makes his way out of the room and back into the hallway that leads to the main floor of Madison Square Garden. He pulls his sunglasses up and lets them rest on the top of his head continuing his trek down the corridor and to the area where each superstar will wait his or her turn to make their way down the ramp and to the ring. Guiliano glances around noticing a single technician with a set of headphones on and a mixer in front of him doing sound checks for each microphone, radio headset, and entrance music. Allen stands behind him for a moment before extending a hand and lightly tapping him on the shoulder.
Only one of those you will be needing tomorrow night is “Lake of Fire” by Lordz of Brooklyn my friend.
The WCF staff member nearly falls off his stool, not expecting anyone to be standing behind him. His head whips around and a sigh of relief escapes his lungs as he acknowledges the superstar’s question.
Techie: Son of a…Damn, you scared the shit out of me man! Didn’t figure you guys would start showing up until tomorrow morning, not this afternoon. To tell you the truth, I haven’t started checking intros yet, but when I get to yours I will let you know.
It’s not a big deal, I was just giving you a hard time. They all set up out there or should I stay back here? I’d just like to take a little peek at what this place will actually look like tomorrow night if it is already put together. I hate to spoil my own surprise by seeing it before the entire facility is full of people, but I just can’t help myself. I don’t think I have ever been this excited to get out there and compete, but if you guys need space and I would be in the way feel free to tell me no.
As far as I know, the ring is already put together and the rigging is already in place. Only thing we have left to do is test the sound system, get the pyros set up, and load the videos for all of you guys. Well, we have to set up all the announce tables and ringside banners, but everything else is taken care of.
So you mind if I take a look?
Well, normally I wouldn’t do this, but since you are the favorite to win this thing, I guess I will let it slide. If you wait just a minute I’ll get your music and video loaded real quick and you can practice doing what you do when you walk down that ramp if you want.
Practice doing what I do? All I do is win wrestling matches and I can’t much practice that unless I have an opponent…come to think of it…
Guiliano looks to the technician with a raised brow as if he is thinking that the WCF staffer will be his “practice opponent”. The technician quickly backs away and gets up off his stool.[/color]
Oh no, I’m not going to be your punching bag. Go pick on one of those ring assembly guys, they are some big sons a bitches. I’m sure they would spar with you or something if you want to get some time in the ring.
I don’t want those wannabes out there, I want the real deal. I want the sound guy! I heard through the grapevine that you were some kind of badass. I guess not…You got my music cued up yet?
Not sure who you heard those rumors from, but they were full of shit. I sit behind a mixer and a set of speakers. There isn’t an ounce of badass in my body. And yes, I think I’ve got everything cued up. Once it starts playing, go out there and do your thing. I’ve got guys with headsets on out there telling me if it is loud enough and sounds right. They will also tell me if the video is right, so if something is screwed up on it don’t be alarmed, it will get fixed by tomorrow night.
I’m not worried about all that stuff. You guys are professionals and I trust in everything you guys are about. Just hit that magic play button and I will be your guinea pig for today.
The sound tech presses the button in front of him and nods toward the waiting Guiliano. The Italian takes a deep breath as he hears the sound of his entrance music blare through the empty stadium. It is the first time he hasn’t heard the screaming fans accompanying his theme, but he slowly pushes the curtains open, revealing the long ramp that leads down to the assembled ring that is adorned with banners that carry the WCF and WAR VIII logos. As he walks across the platform and reaches the transition from platform to ramp, his usual red, white, and green pyrotechnics explode behind him. A smile comes over the Italian’s face as he turns around to see his name scroll across the enormous screen once the pill settles into the “00” space on the roulette wheel. He once again turns his attention towards the ring as he saunters down the ramp, reaching the landing at the bottom. The ring steps are his next target as he slowly places each foot on the steel stairs in front of him and uses the ring post to vault himself over the top rope and into the center of the ring. Guiliano, still in his suit, climbs the ropes and stands atop one of the turnbuckles taking in the full effect of the empty Madison Square Garden.
Guiliano glances over the area from his perch on the steel post, noticing the large banners that hang from the rafters of The Garden. His eyes carefully examine each one and he begins to notice what each one of the 30 banners signifies. One banner has been hung for each participant in the main event on Sunday night and the lights that currently illuminate each poster will be turned off, one by one, as all but one superstar is eliminated. The arena once again goes silent as “Lake of Fire” begins to fade out over the speakers at the song’s conclusion. Guiliano remains focused on the banners that litter the rafters as he looks around, giving the thumbs up to the technician who has poked his head out of the curtain to make sure the audio was synched with the video. As the sound guy disappears once again, Guiliano notices that he is simply the lone soul left in one of the world’s most famous venues. He hops down from his seat on the turnbuckle and relaxes against the ropes, taking in the full aura of MSG, revealing the thoughts in his mind public.
Here it is in all of its glory, Madison Square Garden., a gem in the crown of the city that is New York. It is a venue that has housed world-class athletes for decades and celebrated numerous world championships by New York’s finest athletic teams and on Sunday it will celebrate yet another defining moment in the history of sports entertainment. Blood, sweat, and tears will soak the clean canvas that I now stand upon and 29 other men will make the walk down that very ramp in which I came and see THEIR colors, THEIR video, and hear THEIR music before they have THEIR hopes and dreams pulled out from underneath them. I am a humble man and I take no opponent lightly, but this remember this moment right now, because this is exactly how the ring will look on Sunday night when the dust has settled. One man will remain standing and that one man will be the one that currently occupies it, Allen Guiliano, Slickie T. It will be MY banner that will remain lit and MY goal of becoming World Champion that will remain alive. I agree to come out of retirement and enter the ring once again to do one thing and that was to be the best damn wrestler in the business and until that World Title is around my waist, I will continue to pursue my objective with passion and with a reckless abandonment that has never been seen before in the WCF or any other wrestling federation.
Seems that most of the competitors have cut promos where they address each the competitors that will be vying for the chance to be call War-winner, and I suppose I should probably do the same, but frankly, I shouldn’t have to reveal the numerous tactics that I have for each one of you that I know will watch this promo at some point before War. So instead of addressing each one of you and giving all of you the privilege of hearing me address you personally, I’m going to speak to each and every one of you at the same time, and I will do it only ONE time, so listen up.
Seth Lerch will claim that the new era of the WCF began when he opened the doors of the federation for the most recent time, but the true transformation of this organization will begin when the World Championship is back around the waist of a TRUE champion. Someone who has worked their way from the depths of the opening bouts, grinded out victories in the monotony of the midcard, proved their worth as main eventers and headlines, and eventually emerged as the best of the best by winning the most prestigious event that the World Championship Federation has to offer. Many of you out there are very worthy opponents and opponents that I have a lot of respect for and some of you are simply in this match because somewhere there is a piece of paper with your signature on it that categorizes you as a wrestler here in the WCF. A select few are actually top hopefuls to come away with a victory on Sunday night, but most of you are wide-eye newcomers that think you can just waltz in here and “dominate” right from the get go. There are some of you out there that celebrate your meaningless titles as a credential for why you should be taken seriously, but think about who you fear in this event. Think about the men who have been the talk of this event and think about the titles that they currently hold. Your Television Title, your United States Title, your Tag Team Titles, your #1 contenderships for any title, doesn’t mean a damn thing to me. I have preserved week in and week out in this federation, beaten the very best that it has to offer, successfully defended the United States Title for nearly a month, brought dignity, honor, and meaning back to it, and now I currently stand here without a thing to show for it. But who is it that you will fear the most on Sunday, who is it that you absolutely DO NOT want to see enter the ring on Sunday night, who is each and every one of you trying not to talk down to when you cut your promos? It’s not hard to see. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is. Hell, a man with half a brain could watch your faces and see what name causes it to cringe. As a matter of fact, I don’t even have to reveal the answer to the questions that I just posed, because it is literally right in front of your face.
It’s time for a real champion to emerge on Sunday. It’s time for this federation to rise to the top of the ranks. It’s time for a revolution in the way that things are happening around here. The reign of domination that Torture currently holds over the WCF is about to come to an end. His new Team of Torture is just a bunch of guys to shield him from the inevitable. Sure, the first order of business is to come away with a victory in the War event, but the ultimate aspiration is to dethrone the supremacy that currently exists. I have faced bigger challenges in the past and passed them without a hitch and this time will be no different. It is my time to bask in the glory of my efforts and that time will finally come this Sunday night. I know that each of you that are waiting to arrive at this very arena will bring all you’ve got tomorrow night, but the best you’ve got simply won’t be enough. I may not be the biggest competitor, I may not be the strongest competitor, and I may not be the fastest competitor, but I will guarantee you one thing. I am THE best competitor. Go ahead and start making excuses for why you couldn’t beat me because you will need them when Hank sits down with you and asks “What went wrong at War?” or “What happened at War?” or simply “Why didn’t you win War?”. Winning this event will mean more than anything I have ever accomplished. I would trade all the wealth I have amassed, all the money that comes through my casino each and every day, and all the titles I have one in the past for this one chance to prove I am THE very best. For this one chance to prove that my hard work, my determination, and my dedication have not gone by the way side.
This could very well be the defining moment in my career and if I do not come away as the victor at War, it will be something that stays with me for the rest of my career. It will be a situation where I continue to ask myself why I couldn’t succeed, why I couldn’t keep up the fight, or simply why I allowed myself to be pinned in such a crucial moment. But there is one thing I am sure of, one thing that I will GUARANTEE, and that is that there will be no doubting myself, because when I stand here, in this very ring, all alone, my music playing over the speakers, the crowd on their feet, the colors of Italia illuminating Madison Square Garden, then I will know what all the hard work was for. I will know why I went through the agony of all my previous defeats and why I put my body through so much pain and suffering. There is only one person who can possibly come out on top tomorrow night, only one person that simply will not submit, will not experience defeat and that one man is me. To each and every one of you, if you haven’t listened to a word I have said in my entire career, if what I just told you hasn’t sunk it, I want you to simply listen to my final four words and they will tell you what you will be facing when I enter that ring on Sunday night. FORZA ITALIA! MI AMORE!
The pure fire in the eyes of Guiliano can almost be felt through the lens as he finishes his final words before he will take the ring at War. The camera slowly pans away from the ring as Guiliano continues standing there, the lone man in the arena as the screen eventually fades to the black and the WCF logo appears.
