Post by Logan on Sept 26, 2010 18:23:08 GMT -5
The camera focuses itself on the outskirts of a church. The large stone building stands feet from the street, a massive row of concrete steps before it’s entrance. Logan, and his right hand man, Mr. B, climbs up the churches steps, and take no time to pound their fists on the large wooden door that grants inside access. After a moments time, a man clad in black answers, a priest, of course. Upon sight, Logan tucks his hands underneath his armpits, narrowing his eyes, and letting Mr. B do the talking.
Mr. B: Good afternoon.
Father: Hello, Son.
Mr. B: Son?
Father: A Son of the Lord, no doubt.
Mr. B: I was not aware.
Father: Oh, yes. Everyone is God’s children.
Mr. B: If that’s the case then he sure does owe me a lot of birthday presents!
Mr. B chuckles, nudging the priest with his elbow.
Father: Ah… indeed.
Mr. B: Can you help us?
Father: With birthday presents?
Mr. B: No. We need a holy man.
Father: Look inside yourself, my Son, and you will find that are full of God’s love, and with God’s love, you, yourself, are holy.
Mr. B: I should’ve been more specific. We need an exorcist.
Father: Do-what-now?
Mr. B: Yes, well, one of our friends is believed to be possessed.
Father: Oh my.
Mr. B: Yes, it’s very troubling, not only to us.. but others as well.
Father: What makes you believe that your friend is possessed?
Mr. B: Well, do you know, Torture, from WCF?
Father: Is that some type of sexual bondage?
Mr. B: No, Torture is, or was.. a man. He died very recently, and then his spirit went into that friend of ours.
Father: A man? Only a demon can take possession of the living.
Mr. B: He was a demon.. more or less.
Father: M’m. Sorry. I couldn’t help anyway. I have not performed an exorcism in twenty years.
Mr. B: This favor would not go unpaid.
Father: God’s work has no price.
Logan turns from the two. He hadn’t been paying much attention, anyway. Mr. B tries to continually persuade the priest while Logan walks away from them and takes a seat down onto one of the many steps. The cameraman ignores Mr. B and the priest, focusing it’s attention onto Logan.
Logan: One thing has managed to get on my nerves here recently more than Price's stupid face, and, that is.. Slickie's mouth. Yes, Slickie, the man who can no longer endure another drop of sweat for WCF. He's far too good for us, you see. I know what you really think, Slickie, you believe you're better than anything or anyone. You may not openly admit that, but, I can tell. And, no, I'm not going to sit here and tell you all the little things you'd like to hear. I'm not going claim that I have respect for you, or acknowledge you as a threat. I'm taking all that back. I do NOT have any respect for you or anyone really for that matter. Don't fuckin' throw that last years War victory in my face, boudle. You came in last! Remember? I had just got done battling ninety percent of the Team of Trash, got surprised attacked by Madd Dogg, and had already been an hour deep into the match. However, still.. still.. you had to fight tooth and nail to take me down. Putting all that into consideration, what makes you so much of a threat to me now, especially when you're the first man to enter. And what are you doing running your mouth about Jay Price? That's MY bitch. You think he'll drop his attention from me once the great and almighty Slickie T struts the ring. Do not mistake this for jealously, but, excuse me.. have you been harassing that dimwit for the last month and beating him with steel pipes? I think not. You're just not as special as you make yourself up to be. What kills me even more about you as that you think you actually know what you're talking about. A few days ago, I spoke the damn truth. I said, you couldn't take it, you weren't cut out for the long haul, and maybe retiring might be the best thing for you. Your defense, as if you've been here ten years, was that if I was as active as you are then I also would probably consider retirement. Huh? Do you know what federation you're in? I've had more matches here in WCF more than anyone combined on the current roster. Yeah, sure, 2010 hasn't exactly been the year of Logan. But, 'ya know, that's what happens when you've been wrestling hear ten years.. sometimes you take a little break. Maybe that's what you should do, Slickie, take a little time off instead of trying to sail off into the sunset with your best dramatic effort. But, yes, I will fare you a goodbye. I doubt anyone will be throwing confetti, or have wrestlers darting from the back to send you off with loving hugs, but, yes.. Slickie, goodbye. It'll be a personal tragedy on your behalf that you couldn't go out winning the big one, but, what'd you expect me to do? Sit here and let you win it? No, no, no. There can be only one two time War winner in WCF, and soon a only three time War winner. This match will become my own signature match. Future Wars from now, when I'm unable to compete, people will say, "Well, so and so won, but they didn't beat Logan." Do you understand? You can't win, Slickie, you simply can not. Not only does this match mean more to me than some cheesy early retirement like it does for you, it's giving me the chance to reclaim WCF, to take it back. To do something you no longer desire, to have something you no longer cherish. Honestly, I never thought you were much of a good world champion anyone. You never really were a good man to represent WCF. Basically, after you won the title the first time, and even the second time.. you seemed to drag feet. All you really want is your name in the history books, that's you really seem to care for. You don't have an ounce of the passion I do for this sport. I want to change it. I love my dear WCF, and it fuckin' loves me. I'm looking forward to the future, to the weeks ahead that require strategic planning and thought. While, you, all you want or need, really, is your little name on the list of title history, or to rightfully claim to be an only back to back War winner. That makes you satisfied, doesn't it? So content that you'd be willing to pack the bags and tell everyone your so longs. That, my greasy friend, is simply.. pathetic.
Mr. B: No! It doesn’t matter if it’s against his beliefs, we have plenty of money to persuade otherwise. Oh, you’re telling me that wouldn’t help the church?
Father: It would, yes, but—
Adjusting himself on the concrete steps, Logan slightly listens on to Mr. B argue with the priests in the background before continuing.
Logan: Anyway, it'd be very wrong of me to forget my little friend, Jay Price, wouldn't it? He seems very angered by my recent actions and loving words. I, however, do not think he's taking this as seriously as he should. Admittedly, I expected more of a response out of him after treating him like a beating bag with a steel pipe. He recovered quickly, yes, and naturally sought revenge. But, what did he do.. really? It seems like I've been the intransigent in this relationship of ours. Doesn't he feel the same way about me that I do about him? Maybe, together, we should seek counseling. I don't think he'd be willingly ready to admit that he may be afraid of me, but, the way things have been these last few weeks.. he hasn't exactly done much to keep me on my toes. What has happened to Brooklyn’s toughest? You’d think I would have been a smart man in acquiring a team of security after that first attack inflicted on Price, but, really.. other than for personal amusement, I haven’t needed them. It’s safe to say that it might be a possibility that Price does not fully understand the whole aspect of why we’re engaged in a blood feud. He’s confused. Yes, even sexually, he’s confused. The week after Revenge, his response to that brutal beating was delivered colorfully. And, by colorfully, I mean fragrant, of course. Yes, through the battered pulped lips and throbbing headache, his reply was nothing short of a gay joke which consisted on something about my undying gay love for anything slightly resembling a penis; a steel pipe. First thought, I believed, maybe he’s really onto something. That perhaps he found a real message in my doings. Why else would anyone readily perceive their agonizing painful beat down as a homosexual act? It didn’t take me long to realize, no, quite simply.. Jay Price is a fuckin’ idiot. That, or I just hit him too hard in the head. It’s not the first time he’s been ready to question another ones sexuality. No, Price, in a nutshell.. moralizes his life by gay insults and jokes. He’s so quick to point his finger at someone that even show slight signs of fragrant, that, maybe.. he’s hiding something. The guys opinion of attractive women always feels very over dramatic, so much, that it could be a way to cover something up, push people away from the real Price, the gay Price. Heh. You’re not fooling me. I would not mind, anyway. Maybe you should just come out with it.
Father: This is a serious matter, nothing to joke with.
Mr. B: I know, Father, I know. He really needs one, though. There is no medical reason for what's happened.
Father: Well.. what type of signs has he shown?
Mr. B: Increased arrogance, beating Russle Trombone when everyone knows that feat in itself is impossible, oh, and...
Mr. B whispers into the priests ear.
Father: Oh my.
Mr. B: Yes, so, you see.. he's showing all the signs of a Torture possession.
Father: So, who is this demon, Torture, you speak of?
Mr. B takes a long inhale before answering. Logan begins speaking again.
Logan: Back to Slickie... he isn't exactly my main concern, but, he deserves to be noticed. Slickie, you now know that any and all respect I may have had for you has suddenly vanished. So, from now on, and much like before, you'll no longer be addressed as Slickie T, but, instead, Boudle T. I really could have probably came up with something better, but boudle just always seems to properly work for just about anything. I don't think it's much of a secret that you'll be more than ready to take on this match. Actually, I'm pretty positive, that at this very moment you're somewhere in a gym, sweating it out with only one thing on your mind; War. Again, with no respect involved, I will admit that you no doubt have your heart in this. You truly believe that Monday will be your day, or that at least.. you have a damn good shot at winning it. That's your belief, and, your opinion. Of course, everyone is entitled to their opinion, so, if that's what you want to honestly believe.. then, by all means, go ahead! I'd just hate for you to get your little hopes up only to have them get wrecked. And, I promise you, they will. I don't care how much you think you have coming into this. It doesn't matter to me how much of an A-game you bring. Or how more fight you may think you have over everyone else. T, you're failing to realize that I have just a little more heart, a little more fight, a little more desire, and that's all it's going to take from sending you home without a big sloppy wet kiss. You might really want this, but, I want it more. You don't have to win, Slick, I DO. That's the difference. That's what will determine the outcome. And, really, what were you thinking to begin with? Volunteering yourself as the number one entry? That's pretty ballsy. I can't deny it when I say that you are looking to prove something, that you're really wanting to seal your name among the greats of history. But, you've just got to understand where I'm coming from. I can't let it happen. This is more than just being competitive or who has the bigger goods. It's about me finding my place here again, finding my time. And, that alone gives me the strength to not go down. It's going to take everything you have and beyond to take me out of this match. The T-Bone, as devastating as it can be, isn't going to be enough. It's going to take more than wrestling maneuvers to lay my arms down for the three. Every muscle in my body will refuse to go limp for a mere three seconds. You'll have to rip the fuckin' arms out of my sockets if you want me to lay still. Are you prepared for this, really? I've seen you go the distance before, but, this isn't the same. It's me, Slick. The only other guy next to you in this company. The one that'll be eating at the back of your mind as soon as the calender hits Monday. There is no denying, that between the whole of this roster, we both clearly have something in common.. we simply want it more. It really would not surprise me if this event once again fell down between just the two of us. I almost expect it to. However, the result will not be similar to that of last years. Firstly, let's face facts.. if that possibility comes true, and you and I, are in fact the last two, you'll be so fuckin' out of it! It'll be like us trading places from last years War. You can have all the heart you want, all you fight you think you need, but, once you've put up more than a hours worth of time.. you'll just simply be worn out. And, me? I'll be able to pick you apart if I wanted to. You'll be like a toy to play with. But, no, there would be far too much importance to just simply play with my food. I'd take you out in a heart beat. Have you climb the ladder of the War, reach the very tip top, only to crush you back down to the bottom and send your ass back home to Italy. Your high hopes aren't scaring me. I'm more than prepared to smash that little retirement dream of yours to pieces, and then, set those pieces to fire.
Mr. B: It'd just be for one show.
Father: I don't think you fully understand my position, or where I'm coming from. I, first, have to get this approved by the catholic church. Do you honestly believe they'd be willing to send a priest out to a wrestling show for an exorcism?!
Mr. B: But! The guy needs it!
Father: No, that's just silly. I think it's all for show.
Mr. B: Well.. that's offensive. A man's well-being, life, perhaps.. could be at stake, and you dismiss it for a circus?
Father: Yes. It's wrestling.
Mr. B: Surely, this church could use some type of upgrading. What I'm saying is that we have the funds necessary to make sure it does.
Father: H'm...
Logan: Hate not to continue without mentioning a few select others, like, Oblivion. Another inmate of WCF's asylum. I, personally, have nothing against him. I'm not saying I like him, though. It just so happens that we'll be in the same match. That's our only similarity. If memory serves me right, we've never officially faced off before. That, of course, could all change at War.. or it couldn't. A chance exists that we both be in the same ring a respectable amount of time and never once lock horns. That's just how the War is. Or, we could, easily, meet toe to toe. Let me be the first to admit, while I have sometimes found you amusing, Oblivion, I am not a fan. Especially not when you're also competing for the same prize as I. You've won the title, sure, and guess what.. I don't care. The WCF world champions this place produces now of days are playschool to the likes of champions that I have crossed path with during my earlier days here. I'll admit, Oblivion, you may serve as a threat to some.. but, not to me. You're just another fuckin' nut. A guy that's too bonkers for his own good. And, speaking of psychopaths, Greenfever and I will finally have another chance to go at it. If he can recall the last meeting in that scrambled head of his, he'd remember being put in a straitjacket and checking into the mental institution of Connector City. Besides the fact of already having beat him, that really doesn't hold much of a factor in War. I honestly do not know what to think of you, Greenfever. You're a sick bastard. Some people like that. Even I like it, sometimes. It's entertaining. You can always get a good laugh out of a nutball from time to time. It's just when they start smearing shit on themselves that the jokes turn sour. There is definitely nothing wrong with having your own beliefs, and, whatever they are exactly, Fever certainly has them. He sees things differently from everyone else, from the fools. I, myself, can easily relate to that. Do not take that as an invite to come over for a Sunday get together, just, take it from one guy to the other.. in that, I don't really think your nuts. Does anyone even really know the true definition of that? To me, the people who think they're normal are the crazy ones. Hell, besides, maybe fragments of skull and brain dressed in the wig might become a fashionable hairstyle one day. Heh. Greenfever, you may very well just be onto something. And, then, of course.. there is Johnny Reb and Doc Henry. Two of whom both share so much love for the land that I do as well. Good ole' southern boys. I know, recently, your lately engagement with one another has taken a turn for the worse. No longer do the boys fly their flags together in WCF. You'll both probably not be paying attention to much of anyone else besides yourselves. Fighting a personal civil war with one another. That doesn't affect me one bit. If anything, it'll be another bit of entertainment to add to the match. But, as far as this little team WCF goes that Creeping Death has so honorably stood by, know this.. I don't want no part of it. Sure, I'm all about WCF. But, is it really necessary for us to become united? I see no major threat in the This Is War bunch. They just seem like a couple of bored fellows, trying to bore me. And, really, that's just about all they've done. I've heard rumors of them planning to 'take out' the War victor, to send a 'message'. Ha.
Father: I tell you what...
Mr. B: Yes?
Logan: If they want to really send a message.. I welcome it. Go on and show me your little message. Try, I ask, please try to put your little fingers on me after I win the War. I already know it's coming. I mean, it's not like you haven't made the plan of attack public. By the time you even think of trying to make any examples out of me, I'll be on a high horse, I would've just won the War. I'll be fuckin' Iron Man. I have steel pipes, baby. Men. Yes, just as much as you have that are willingly ready to cease anything they a deem a threat to me, or them. And, yes, I'd do the same for them. We trust each other. But, honestly, are you a threat.. to me, anyway? No! You're the pests running around backstage in little masks. A distinct cousin of the roach family. Nothing more than something else I have to flick off my arm or step on to shut up. So, yes, do what you must. Try to strike fear into a black heart. Try to beat ME with treachery. You boudles are just lucky that my time has been dedicated into that of Jay Price. I'd personally love to really show you all how to play this little game of yours that you think you all do so well. You could think of it as a lesson, maybe even a bit of advice. I'll be waiting, after War, if you want free tickets. Because, believe me, there is no place on Earth quite like Connector City. It's like Vegas minus the alcohol. You will not remember much of anything that happened once you leave. Is that really a trip you’re willing to take? Is it honestly worth the headache, because, believe me.. there certainly will be one. That’s part of the trips guarantee, a warranty so to speak. And, speaking of Jay Price, how could I not get enough of that guy? I don't exactly mean that in the way his simpleton mind might, but, he's easy to like. A love to hate kind of relationship, indeed. Okay, I'll admit.. I'm a little obsessed. But, despite that obsession, I'm not going to play into it that much for War. It's too risky. Believe me, though, I'd love nothing more than the opportunity to pin him along with receiving the title. It'd be a dream come true, naturally. I think deep down inside, Price, feels the same way as I do about him. He needs me. I'm like the ying to his yang. Heh. Again, I'm sure he'll intemperate that wrong as well, but, hey, that's why I like him. I enjoy putting things in his head. Making him feel lost or worried. I'd like to think that he constantly has an eye in the back of his head whenever he knows I'm near. I really do believe he secretly craves my attention. Perhaps, steel pipes are just something that get him off. You know I will not judge you for that, Price. I, myself, have a few habits and fetishes that I'm not very easily to admit. But, though this, Price, Monday.. I'll be there for you. If you need someone to smack you around then I'm obviously your guy. I have no problem whatsoever in doing that. Matter of fact, I welcome you to do it to me as well. We can be like.. partners of pain! You punch my face, I punch yours. Is that something you can commit to, Price? I know Torture would. He’d love it. And, being logical in the twist of things, that technically means you should too. But, we’ll how things do play out when we do in fact.. play. Heh. See you, Monday, Price. See you all, Monday.
Mr. B: Five thousand dollars!
Father: No!
Mr. B: Ten thousand dollars!
Father: For the last time, no! No amount of money will make this okay.
Mr. B: Logan, do we have twenty?
No response.
Mr. B: Logan?
The step where Logan sat is now empty. Apparently, Logan has left the church.
Father: I'd like for you to leave.
The priest retreats back inside, slamming the door in Mr. B's face and locking it. Mr. B stares to the ground, frustrated, scratching his head. The camera cuts off.
Mr. B: Good afternoon.
Father: Hello, Son.
Mr. B: Son?
Father: A Son of the Lord, no doubt.
Mr. B: I was not aware.
Father: Oh, yes. Everyone is God’s children.
Mr. B: If that’s the case then he sure does owe me a lot of birthday presents!
Mr. B chuckles, nudging the priest with his elbow.
Father: Ah… indeed.
Mr. B: Can you help us?
Father: With birthday presents?
Mr. B: No. We need a holy man.
Father: Look inside yourself, my Son, and you will find that are full of God’s love, and with God’s love, you, yourself, are holy.
Mr. B: I should’ve been more specific. We need an exorcist.
Father: Do-what-now?
Mr. B: Yes, well, one of our friends is believed to be possessed.
Father: Oh my.
Mr. B: Yes, it’s very troubling, not only to us.. but others as well.
Father: What makes you believe that your friend is possessed?
Mr. B: Well, do you know, Torture, from WCF?
Father: Is that some type of sexual bondage?
Mr. B: No, Torture is, or was.. a man. He died very recently, and then his spirit went into that friend of ours.
Father: A man? Only a demon can take possession of the living.
Mr. B: He was a demon.. more or less.
Father: M’m. Sorry. I couldn’t help anyway. I have not performed an exorcism in twenty years.
Mr. B: This favor would not go unpaid.
Father: God’s work has no price.
Logan turns from the two. He hadn’t been paying much attention, anyway. Mr. B tries to continually persuade the priest while Logan walks away from them and takes a seat down onto one of the many steps. The cameraman ignores Mr. B and the priest, focusing it’s attention onto Logan.
Logan: One thing has managed to get on my nerves here recently more than Price's stupid face, and, that is.. Slickie's mouth. Yes, Slickie, the man who can no longer endure another drop of sweat for WCF. He's far too good for us, you see. I know what you really think, Slickie, you believe you're better than anything or anyone. You may not openly admit that, but, I can tell. And, no, I'm not going to sit here and tell you all the little things you'd like to hear. I'm not going claim that I have respect for you, or acknowledge you as a threat. I'm taking all that back. I do NOT have any respect for you or anyone really for that matter. Don't fuckin' throw that last years War victory in my face, boudle. You came in last! Remember? I had just got done battling ninety percent of the Team of Trash, got surprised attacked by Madd Dogg, and had already been an hour deep into the match. However, still.. still.. you had to fight tooth and nail to take me down. Putting all that into consideration, what makes you so much of a threat to me now, especially when you're the first man to enter. And what are you doing running your mouth about Jay Price? That's MY bitch. You think he'll drop his attention from me once the great and almighty Slickie T struts the ring. Do not mistake this for jealously, but, excuse me.. have you been harassing that dimwit for the last month and beating him with steel pipes? I think not. You're just not as special as you make yourself up to be. What kills me even more about you as that you think you actually know what you're talking about. A few days ago, I spoke the damn truth. I said, you couldn't take it, you weren't cut out for the long haul, and maybe retiring might be the best thing for you. Your defense, as if you've been here ten years, was that if I was as active as you are then I also would probably consider retirement. Huh? Do you know what federation you're in? I've had more matches here in WCF more than anyone combined on the current roster. Yeah, sure, 2010 hasn't exactly been the year of Logan. But, 'ya know, that's what happens when you've been wrestling hear ten years.. sometimes you take a little break. Maybe that's what you should do, Slickie, take a little time off instead of trying to sail off into the sunset with your best dramatic effort. But, yes, I will fare you a goodbye. I doubt anyone will be throwing confetti, or have wrestlers darting from the back to send you off with loving hugs, but, yes.. Slickie, goodbye. It'll be a personal tragedy on your behalf that you couldn't go out winning the big one, but, what'd you expect me to do? Sit here and let you win it? No, no, no. There can be only one two time War winner in WCF, and soon a only three time War winner. This match will become my own signature match. Future Wars from now, when I'm unable to compete, people will say, "Well, so and so won, but they didn't beat Logan." Do you understand? You can't win, Slickie, you simply can not. Not only does this match mean more to me than some cheesy early retirement like it does for you, it's giving me the chance to reclaim WCF, to take it back. To do something you no longer desire, to have something you no longer cherish. Honestly, I never thought you were much of a good world champion anyone. You never really were a good man to represent WCF. Basically, after you won the title the first time, and even the second time.. you seemed to drag feet. All you really want is your name in the history books, that's you really seem to care for. You don't have an ounce of the passion I do for this sport. I want to change it. I love my dear WCF, and it fuckin' loves me. I'm looking forward to the future, to the weeks ahead that require strategic planning and thought. While, you, all you want or need, really, is your little name on the list of title history, or to rightfully claim to be an only back to back War winner. That makes you satisfied, doesn't it? So content that you'd be willing to pack the bags and tell everyone your so longs. That, my greasy friend, is simply.. pathetic.
Mr. B: No! It doesn’t matter if it’s against his beliefs, we have plenty of money to persuade otherwise. Oh, you’re telling me that wouldn’t help the church?
Father: It would, yes, but—
Adjusting himself on the concrete steps, Logan slightly listens on to Mr. B argue with the priests in the background before continuing.
Logan: Anyway, it'd be very wrong of me to forget my little friend, Jay Price, wouldn't it? He seems very angered by my recent actions and loving words. I, however, do not think he's taking this as seriously as he should. Admittedly, I expected more of a response out of him after treating him like a beating bag with a steel pipe. He recovered quickly, yes, and naturally sought revenge. But, what did he do.. really? It seems like I've been the intransigent in this relationship of ours. Doesn't he feel the same way about me that I do about him? Maybe, together, we should seek counseling. I don't think he'd be willingly ready to admit that he may be afraid of me, but, the way things have been these last few weeks.. he hasn't exactly done much to keep me on my toes. What has happened to Brooklyn’s toughest? You’d think I would have been a smart man in acquiring a team of security after that first attack inflicted on Price, but, really.. other than for personal amusement, I haven’t needed them. It’s safe to say that it might be a possibility that Price does not fully understand the whole aspect of why we’re engaged in a blood feud. He’s confused. Yes, even sexually, he’s confused. The week after Revenge, his response to that brutal beating was delivered colorfully. And, by colorfully, I mean fragrant, of course. Yes, through the battered pulped lips and throbbing headache, his reply was nothing short of a gay joke which consisted on something about my undying gay love for anything slightly resembling a penis; a steel pipe. First thought, I believed, maybe he’s really onto something. That perhaps he found a real message in my doings. Why else would anyone readily perceive their agonizing painful beat down as a homosexual act? It didn’t take me long to realize, no, quite simply.. Jay Price is a fuckin’ idiot. That, or I just hit him too hard in the head. It’s not the first time he’s been ready to question another ones sexuality. No, Price, in a nutshell.. moralizes his life by gay insults and jokes. He’s so quick to point his finger at someone that even show slight signs of fragrant, that, maybe.. he’s hiding something. The guys opinion of attractive women always feels very over dramatic, so much, that it could be a way to cover something up, push people away from the real Price, the gay Price. Heh. You’re not fooling me. I would not mind, anyway. Maybe you should just come out with it.
Father: This is a serious matter, nothing to joke with.
Mr. B: I know, Father, I know. He really needs one, though. There is no medical reason for what's happened.
Father: Well.. what type of signs has he shown?
Mr. B: Increased arrogance, beating Russle Trombone when everyone knows that feat in itself is impossible, oh, and...
Mr. B whispers into the priests ear.
Father: Oh my.
Mr. B: Yes, so, you see.. he's showing all the signs of a Torture possession.
Father: So, who is this demon, Torture, you speak of?
Mr. B takes a long inhale before answering. Logan begins speaking again.
Logan: Back to Slickie... he isn't exactly my main concern, but, he deserves to be noticed. Slickie, you now know that any and all respect I may have had for you has suddenly vanished. So, from now on, and much like before, you'll no longer be addressed as Slickie T, but, instead, Boudle T. I really could have probably came up with something better, but boudle just always seems to properly work for just about anything. I don't think it's much of a secret that you'll be more than ready to take on this match. Actually, I'm pretty positive, that at this very moment you're somewhere in a gym, sweating it out with only one thing on your mind; War. Again, with no respect involved, I will admit that you no doubt have your heart in this. You truly believe that Monday will be your day, or that at least.. you have a damn good shot at winning it. That's your belief, and, your opinion. Of course, everyone is entitled to their opinion, so, if that's what you want to honestly believe.. then, by all means, go ahead! I'd just hate for you to get your little hopes up only to have them get wrecked. And, I promise you, they will. I don't care how much you think you have coming into this. It doesn't matter to me how much of an A-game you bring. Or how more fight you may think you have over everyone else. T, you're failing to realize that I have just a little more heart, a little more fight, a little more desire, and that's all it's going to take from sending you home without a big sloppy wet kiss. You might really want this, but, I want it more. You don't have to win, Slick, I DO. That's the difference. That's what will determine the outcome. And, really, what were you thinking to begin with? Volunteering yourself as the number one entry? That's pretty ballsy. I can't deny it when I say that you are looking to prove something, that you're really wanting to seal your name among the greats of history. But, you've just got to understand where I'm coming from. I can't let it happen. This is more than just being competitive or who has the bigger goods. It's about me finding my place here again, finding my time. And, that alone gives me the strength to not go down. It's going to take everything you have and beyond to take me out of this match. The T-Bone, as devastating as it can be, isn't going to be enough. It's going to take more than wrestling maneuvers to lay my arms down for the three. Every muscle in my body will refuse to go limp for a mere three seconds. You'll have to rip the fuckin' arms out of my sockets if you want me to lay still. Are you prepared for this, really? I've seen you go the distance before, but, this isn't the same. It's me, Slick. The only other guy next to you in this company. The one that'll be eating at the back of your mind as soon as the calender hits Monday. There is no denying, that between the whole of this roster, we both clearly have something in common.. we simply want it more. It really would not surprise me if this event once again fell down between just the two of us. I almost expect it to. However, the result will not be similar to that of last years. Firstly, let's face facts.. if that possibility comes true, and you and I, are in fact the last two, you'll be so fuckin' out of it! It'll be like us trading places from last years War. You can have all the heart you want, all you fight you think you need, but, once you've put up more than a hours worth of time.. you'll just simply be worn out. And, me? I'll be able to pick you apart if I wanted to. You'll be like a toy to play with. But, no, there would be far too much importance to just simply play with my food. I'd take you out in a heart beat. Have you climb the ladder of the War, reach the very tip top, only to crush you back down to the bottom and send your ass back home to Italy. Your high hopes aren't scaring me. I'm more than prepared to smash that little retirement dream of yours to pieces, and then, set those pieces to fire.
Mr. B: It'd just be for one show.
Father: I don't think you fully understand my position, or where I'm coming from. I, first, have to get this approved by the catholic church. Do you honestly believe they'd be willing to send a priest out to a wrestling show for an exorcism?!
Mr. B: But! The guy needs it!
Father: No, that's just silly. I think it's all for show.
Mr. B: Well.. that's offensive. A man's well-being, life, perhaps.. could be at stake, and you dismiss it for a circus?
Father: Yes. It's wrestling.
Mr. B: Surely, this church could use some type of upgrading. What I'm saying is that we have the funds necessary to make sure it does.
Father: H'm...
Logan: Hate not to continue without mentioning a few select others, like, Oblivion. Another inmate of WCF's asylum. I, personally, have nothing against him. I'm not saying I like him, though. It just so happens that we'll be in the same match. That's our only similarity. If memory serves me right, we've never officially faced off before. That, of course, could all change at War.. or it couldn't. A chance exists that we both be in the same ring a respectable amount of time and never once lock horns. That's just how the War is. Or, we could, easily, meet toe to toe. Let me be the first to admit, while I have sometimes found you amusing, Oblivion, I am not a fan. Especially not when you're also competing for the same prize as I. You've won the title, sure, and guess what.. I don't care. The WCF world champions this place produces now of days are playschool to the likes of champions that I have crossed path with during my earlier days here. I'll admit, Oblivion, you may serve as a threat to some.. but, not to me. You're just another fuckin' nut. A guy that's too bonkers for his own good. And, speaking of psychopaths, Greenfever and I will finally have another chance to go at it. If he can recall the last meeting in that scrambled head of his, he'd remember being put in a straitjacket and checking into the mental institution of Connector City. Besides the fact of already having beat him, that really doesn't hold much of a factor in War. I honestly do not know what to think of you, Greenfever. You're a sick bastard. Some people like that. Even I like it, sometimes. It's entertaining. You can always get a good laugh out of a nutball from time to time. It's just when they start smearing shit on themselves that the jokes turn sour. There is definitely nothing wrong with having your own beliefs, and, whatever they are exactly, Fever certainly has them. He sees things differently from everyone else, from the fools. I, myself, can easily relate to that. Do not take that as an invite to come over for a Sunday get together, just, take it from one guy to the other.. in that, I don't really think your nuts. Does anyone even really know the true definition of that? To me, the people who think they're normal are the crazy ones. Hell, besides, maybe fragments of skull and brain dressed in the wig might become a fashionable hairstyle one day. Heh. Greenfever, you may very well just be onto something. And, then, of course.. there is Johnny Reb and Doc Henry. Two of whom both share so much love for the land that I do as well. Good ole' southern boys. I know, recently, your lately engagement with one another has taken a turn for the worse. No longer do the boys fly their flags together in WCF. You'll both probably not be paying attention to much of anyone else besides yourselves. Fighting a personal civil war with one another. That doesn't affect me one bit. If anything, it'll be another bit of entertainment to add to the match. But, as far as this little team WCF goes that Creeping Death has so honorably stood by, know this.. I don't want no part of it. Sure, I'm all about WCF. But, is it really necessary for us to become united? I see no major threat in the This Is War bunch. They just seem like a couple of bored fellows, trying to bore me. And, really, that's just about all they've done. I've heard rumors of them planning to 'take out' the War victor, to send a 'message'. Ha.
Father: I tell you what...
Mr. B: Yes?
Logan: If they want to really send a message.. I welcome it. Go on and show me your little message. Try, I ask, please try to put your little fingers on me after I win the War. I already know it's coming. I mean, it's not like you haven't made the plan of attack public. By the time you even think of trying to make any examples out of me, I'll be on a high horse, I would've just won the War. I'll be fuckin' Iron Man. I have steel pipes, baby. Men. Yes, just as much as you have that are willingly ready to cease anything they a deem a threat to me, or them. And, yes, I'd do the same for them. We trust each other. But, honestly, are you a threat.. to me, anyway? No! You're the pests running around backstage in little masks. A distinct cousin of the roach family. Nothing more than something else I have to flick off my arm or step on to shut up. So, yes, do what you must. Try to strike fear into a black heart. Try to beat ME with treachery. You boudles are just lucky that my time has been dedicated into that of Jay Price. I'd personally love to really show you all how to play this little game of yours that you think you all do so well. You could think of it as a lesson, maybe even a bit of advice. I'll be waiting, after War, if you want free tickets. Because, believe me, there is no place on Earth quite like Connector City. It's like Vegas minus the alcohol. You will not remember much of anything that happened once you leave. Is that really a trip you’re willing to take? Is it honestly worth the headache, because, believe me.. there certainly will be one. That’s part of the trips guarantee, a warranty so to speak. And, speaking of Jay Price, how could I not get enough of that guy? I don't exactly mean that in the way his simpleton mind might, but, he's easy to like. A love to hate kind of relationship, indeed. Okay, I'll admit.. I'm a little obsessed. But, despite that obsession, I'm not going to play into it that much for War. It's too risky. Believe me, though, I'd love nothing more than the opportunity to pin him along with receiving the title. It'd be a dream come true, naturally. I think deep down inside, Price, feels the same way as I do about him. He needs me. I'm like the ying to his yang. Heh. Again, I'm sure he'll intemperate that wrong as well, but, hey, that's why I like him. I enjoy putting things in his head. Making him feel lost or worried. I'd like to think that he constantly has an eye in the back of his head whenever he knows I'm near. I really do believe he secretly craves my attention. Perhaps, steel pipes are just something that get him off. You know I will not judge you for that, Price. I, myself, have a few habits and fetishes that I'm not very easily to admit. But, though this, Price, Monday.. I'll be there for you. If you need someone to smack you around then I'm obviously your guy. I have no problem whatsoever in doing that. Matter of fact, I welcome you to do it to me as well. We can be like.. partners of pain! You punch my face, I punch yours. Is that something you can commit to, Price? I know Torture would. He’d love it. And, being logical in the twist of things, that technically means you should too. But, we’ll how things do play out when we do in fact.. play. Heh. See you, Monday, Price. See you all, Monday.
Mr. B: Five thousand dollars!
Father: No!
Mr. B: Ten thousand dollars!
Father: For the last time, no! No amount of money will make this okay.
Mr. B: Logan, do we have twenty?
No response.
Mr. B: Logan?
The step where Logan sat is now empty. Apparently, Logan has left the church.
Father: I'd like for you to leave.
The priest retreats back inside, slamming the door in Mr. B's face and locking it. Mr. B stares to the ground, frustrated, scratching his head. The camera cuts off.
