Post by Michael Santiago on Jul 5, 2011 16:15:21 GMT -5
Scene One – The fire has been lit… but the torch will not soon be passed
* Michael sits on the bench in his locker room, bending forward to tie the laces on his boots, a rapping on the door behind him causes him to turn his head, a fire burning bright in his eyes as he does so. *
Michael: Its open…
* As the door opens we are met by the toothy grin of Hank Brown, followed by a WCF cameraman. *
Hank: Michael… Michael… Michael… I knew you couldn’t resist the temptation of WCF’s media spotlight, it took longer than I’d hoped but now it seems like you want to eat up the air time.
* The smug look on Hank’s face causes Michael’s stomach to churn. *
Michael: Listen you pompous little prick, why don’t you take that gay price is right microphone and get the fuck out of my locker room before I shove it up your ass.
Hank: But… you asked m…
* Michael turns back at Hank, the fire in his eyes even brighter than before. Hank takes the hint and quickly motions to the cameraman to follow him from the locker room. As the cameraman begins to move towards Hank, Michael again turns his head back to them. *
Michael: No, not you (motioning to the cameraman) just you Hank, get the fuck out of my sight, you make me sick you queer son of a bitch.
* Hank looks at the cameraman for a long moment before pulling his eyes away and turning towards the door, he hesitates momentarily at the threshold before disappearing. Michael turns his attention away from the door where Hank had previously stood and peers up to the cameraman. *
Michael: I like you… you don’t talk so much.
* The cameraman smiles, a sigh of relief as his body begins to loosen up after the severe tension. *
Michael: But don’t get me wrong… if you do one thing to aggravate me, I will not hesitate to shove your head so far up Hank’s ass, you could use your camera to give him an unauthorized colonoscopy.
* The smile quickly fades away and the tension returns to the cameraman’s body with rigor mortis like effects. *
Michael: Now… are you going to do your job and turn on that camera or do I have to make your occupation obsolete here in WCF.
* The cameraman quickly preps his camera, adjusting the lens and getting into an adequate position. After a moment of hesitation the red light illuminates and Michael takes his cue… SHOWTIME! *
Michael: So let me really consider this situation… the WCF locker room is abuzz over this “Ultimate Showdown Preview” and what exactly it is that the winners of the two matches will be competing for when they square off on July eleventh… Well I've always known upper management in just about any organization to be filled with a bunch of morons and that much has always been true even in the wrestling industry. Whether it’s the fact that they can’t handle the talent they have on their roster, or they can’t keep the fans asses in the seats… but now… now I have to come to the startling conclusion that just about every one of my peers here in the back, all of the other wrestlers that compete in that ring, week in and week out… they are possibly even bigger morons than those that pulls the strings upstairs, and the fans? Don’t even get me started about that bunch of derelicts. They are the cause for all of this, getting excited over a mystery prize. What is the most that it could be? A heavyweight title shot? After winning a six-man wrestling match, then beating someone who also won a six-man wrestling match, you deserve some sort of recognition, that feat would instantly put you ahead of the eleven other wrestlers having participated in those two qualifying matches. But still, what is to be so excited about? Whether you win it in an accelerated fashion, or you do it the classic way and slowly work your way up the ladder, the payoff is the same. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, the odds of it being a heavyweight title shot are slim to none, perhaps it will be nothing more than a “good job” and pat on the back from management. That seems like the more realistic outcome to me, with the way these companies work nowadays… nothing more than let down after letdown.
* Michael picks up the water bottle from the bench and takes a quick swig. *
Michael: Even the choice of participants is a letdown. What do I have to look forward to? What can I say I truly accomplished? That I beat a bunch of fools in a wrestling match that they never deserved to be a part of? Big bragging rights there, I’d rather say I wrestled a retarded midget in a pool of pudding. Last week when Hank “Shit-for-brains” Brown came into my locker room I gave him the privilege of an interview. I sat here and spoke briefly about my opponents in the six-man match. But I decided that what I said last week wasn’t good enough, it simply wasn’t becoming of the future WCF heavyweight champion. So now, I will take it a bit more in depth, I’ll focus on the other six-man match… well, sort of. Really the only person worth talking about in that match is Creeping Death, the rest of them really aren’t worth my words, so I guess I’ll just get right into it. Mr. Black, I just can’t place it but somehow, I feel like I know you from somewhere. I’m the epitome of a journeyman so I guess the premise wouldn’t be too farfetched, although I couldn’t find much about your professional background, it didn’t take much to dig up plenty on your personal life. Boy what a roller coaster it must have been for you growing up, what with all the trauma and bloodshed going on. Perhaps wrestling isn’t the appropriate outlet for you Corey, maybe you should turn your sights onto something less violent to let out your anger and aggressions, something that will help you with your mental qualms rather than amplify them. You’re sick, no doubt, your personal background will attest to that, I don’t think you are fit to be competing inside a wrestling ring. But I guess maybe its best that I account for you next week when our time comes, and believe me Corey, it will come.
* Michael bends down, finally finishing tying his boot laces and continues on *
Michael: Throughout the past week, a little more light has been shed on my opponents, starting with FPV. He was eager to be the first to pop off at the mouth, telling everyone that I'm here to inflate my own ego. Let’s start with that, if I were looking to inflate my ego, this most certainly would not be my ideal landing place. My ego has been pretty big and honestly I thought that I've done a pretty good job of keeping it in check during my tenure here. How many times have I heard the same claim from my opponents about my ego? I think every opponent I've faced since coming here has decided to mention my ego, move to something a bit more original my friend. But to clarify, just for sanctity sake, if I were here to inflate my ego believe me, you wouldn’t be the one to stop me from doing so. You go on however to call me an old joke, old? Maybe a bit, but a joke? Not in this lifetime, you can keep telling yourself that I'm nothing more than a joke if it will help you to sleep at night but believe me, it won’t do much to stop you from being the one holding the bag at Slam. You see, you keep considering me a joke, I hope that you do, this way it will come as an even bigger shock to you when I have my arm raised by that referee. I promise FPV that I will school you, I will bring you to a whole other pinnacle atop the wrestling you’ve come to know inside the ring, a level of technical wrestling you didn’t even know to exist. You compared me to the knight in your little beginners chess set, a comparison that may be justified, but certainly not for the reasons that you will be looking for. But where would one draw comparison in a chess game to you FPV? I think maybe you could be likened to one of the sixty-four square spaces on the chess board, no redeemable qualities to speak of but still a necessary part of the game. A stepping stone for the pieces to get to where they are headed, those pieces occupying that space for a brief moment in time before moving on to the next task at hand. Let’s be realistic, you are little more than a flash in the pan, this week’s hot topic and when push comes to shove, you can’t measure up with the veterans of this business. You called me an old joke, but really, all that means is that I've been able to keep myself current on the wrestling scene, something you will not be able to accomplish. One day FPV, you’ll wish you had the opportunity to be an “old joke”.
* Michael looks away from the camera momentarily as if searching for the right words to continue. *
Michael: Ryan Blake, I know that kid like the back of my hand, I don’t feel the need to worry myself too much with him, there shouldn’t be too much of a surprise with what he’ll be offering up in the match. Ana Valentine, again, not too much of a surprise with that one, I already beat her ass throughout the arena, which leaves Aubrey Summers… this girl, now she’s a character, man. I have to admit I'm getting pretty damn tired of her wasting air time with her lesbian love triangle affairs, there’s just no place for it, it’s disgusting.
* Michael’s face becomes very bitter before he continues on. *
Michael: Moving on… I guess it’s fair to say that I'm more than a little pissed off that Steve Thunder doesn’t view me as much of a threat to him, if ever there has been a mistake to make, Thunder is making it now. He wants to cut me short, I’ll be sure to make the largest example out of him, finish the job that Odin started. Steve, you stupid son of a bitch, you failed to take the United States title from Odin and now you decide it wise to underestimate me? Well I’ll be sure to spin that on its head and make you pay for your rookie mistakes. Thunder… once you and I step inside that ring, I’ll show you what TPA is all about and it will be a lesson that you will not soon forget my friend.
* Michael motions a quick cutthroat to the cameraman who quickly cuts the feed. *
~~~ End Scene ~~~
* Michael sits on the bench in his locker room, bending forward to tie the laces on his boots, a rapping on the door behind him causes him to turn his head, a fire burning bright in his eyes as he does so. *
Michael: Its open…
* As the door opens we are met by the toothy grin of Hank Brown, followed by a WCF cameraman. *
Hank: Michael… Michael… Michael… I knew you couldn’t resist the temptation of WCF’s media spotlight, it took longer than I’d hoped but now it seems like you want to eat up the air time.
* The smug look on Hank’s face causes Michael’s stomach to churn. *
Michael: Listen you pompous little prick, why don’t you take that gay price is right microphone and get the fuck out of my locker room before I shove it up your ass.
Hank: But… you asked m…
* Michael turns back at Hank, the fire in his eyes even brighter than before. Hank takes the hint and quickly motions to the cameraman to follow him from the locker room. As the cameraman begins to move towards Hank, Michael again turns his head back to them. *
Michael: No, not you (motioning to the cameraman) just you Hank, get the fuck out of my sight, you make me sick you queer son of a bitch.
* Hank looks at the cameraman for a long moment before pulling his eyes away and turning towards the door, he hesitates momentarily at the threshold before disappearing. Michael turns his attention away from the door where Hank had previously stood and peers up to the cameraman. *
Michael: I like you… you don’t talk so much.
* The cameraman smiles, a sigh of relief as his body begins to loosen up after the severe tension. *
Michael: But don’t get me wrong… if you do one thing to aggravate me, I will not hesitate to shove your head so far up Hank’s ass, you could use your camera to give him an unauthorized colonoscopy.
* The smile quickly fades away and the tension returns to the cameraman’s body with rigor mortis like effects. *
Michael: Now… are you going to do your job and turn on that camera or do I have to make your occupation obsolete here in WCF.
* The cameraman quickly preps his camera, adjusting the lens and getting into an adequate position. After a moment of hesitation the red light illuminates and Michael takes his cue… SHOWTIME! *
Michael: So let me really consider this situation… the WCF locker room is abuzz over this “Ultimate Showdown Preview” and what exactly it is that the winners of the two matches will be competing for when they square off on July eleventh… Well I've always known upper management in just about any organization to be filled with a bunch of morons and that much has always been true even in the wrestling industry. Whether it’s the fact that they can’t handle the talent they have on their roster, or they can’t keep the fans asses in the seats… but now… now I have to come to the startling conclusion that just about every one of my peers here in the back, all of the other wrestlers that compete in that ring, week in and week out… they are possibly even bigger morons than those that pulls the strings upstairs, and the fans? Don’t even get me started about that bunch of derelicts. They are the cause for all of this, getting excited over a mystery prize. What is the most that it could be? A heavyweight title shot? After winning a six-man wrestling match, then beating someone who also won a six-man wrestling match, you deserve some sort of recognition, that feat would instantly put you ahead of the eleven other wrestlers having participated in those two qualifying matches. But still, what is to be so excited about? Whether you win it in an accelerated fashion, or you do it the classic way and slowly work your way up the ladder, the payoff is the same. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, the odds of it being a heavyweight title shot are slim to none, perhaps it will be nothing more than a “good job” and pat on the back from management. That seems like the more realistic outcome to me, with the way these companies work nowadays… nothing more than let down after letdown.
* Michael picks up the water bottle from the bench and takes a quick swig. *
Michael: Even the choice of participants is a letdown. What do I have to look forward to? What can I say I truly accomplished? That I beat a bunch of fools in a wrestling match that they never deserved to be a part of? Big bragging rights there, I’d rather say I wrestled a retarded midget in a pool of pudding. Last week when Hank “Shit-for-brains” Brown came into my locker room I gave him the privilege of an interview. I sat here and spoke briefly about my opponents in the six-man match. But I decided that what I said last week wasn’t good enough, it simply wasn’t becoming of the future WCF heavyweight champion. So now, I will take it a bit more in depth, I’ll focus on the other six-man match… well, sort of. Really the only person worth talking about in that match is Creeping Death, the rest of them really aren’t worth my words, so I guess I’ll just get right into it. Mr. Black, I just can’t place it but somehow, I feel like I know you from somewhere. I’m the epitome of a journeyman so I guess the premise wouldn’t be too farfetched, although I couldn’t find much about your professional background, it didn’t take much to dig up plenty on your personal life. Boy what a roller coaster it must have been for you growing up, what with all the trauma and bloodshed going on. Perhaps wrestling isn’t the appropriate outlet for you Corey, maybe you should turn your sights onto something less violent to let out your anger and aggressions, something that will help you with your mental qualms rather than amplify them. You’re sick, no doubt, your personal background will attest to that, I don’t think you are fit to be competing inside a wrestling ring. But I guess maybe its best that I account for you next week when our time comes, and believe me Corey, it will come.
* Michael bends down, finally finishing tying his boot laces and continues on *
Michael: Throughout the past week, a little more light has been shed on my opponents, starting with FPV. He was eager to be the first to pop off at the mouth, telling everyone that I'm here to inflate my own ego. Let’s start with that, if I were looking to inflate my ego, this most certainly would not be my ideal landing place. My ego has been pretty big and honestly I thought that I've done a pretty good job of keeping it in check during my tenure here. How many times have I heard the same claim from my opponents about my ego? I think every opponent I've faced since coming here has decided to mention my ego, move to something a bit more original my friend. But to clarify, just for sanctity sake, if I were here to inflate my ego believe me, you wouldn’t be the one to stop me from doing so. You go on however to call me an old joke, old? Maybe a bit, but a joke? Not in this lifetime, you can keep telling yourself that I'm nothing more than a joke if it will help you to sleep at night but believe me, it won’t do much to stop you from being the one holding the bag at Slam. You see, you keep considering me a joke, I hope that you do, this way it will come as an even bigger shock to you when I have my arm raised by that referee. I promise FPV that I will school you, I will bring you to a whole other pinnacle atop the wrestling you’ve come to know inside the ring, a level of technical wrestling you didn’t even know to exist. You compared me to the knight in your little beginners chess set, a comparison that may be justified, but certainly not for the reasons that you will be looking for. But where would one draw comparison in a chess game to you FPV? I think maybe you could be likened to one of the sixty-four square spaces on the chess board, no redeemable qualities to speak of but still a necessary part of the game. A stepping stone for the pieces to get to where they are headed, those pieces occupying that space for a brief moment in time before moving on to the next task at hand. Let’s be realistic, you are little more than a flash in the pan, this week’s hot topic and when push comes to shove, you can’t measure up with the veterans of this business. You called me an old joke, but really, all that means is that I've been able to keep myself current on the wrestling scene, something you will not be able to accomplish. One day FPV, you’ll wish you had the opportunity to be an “old joke”.
* Michael looks away from the camera momentarily as if searching for the right words to continue. *
Michael: Ryan Blake, I know that kid like the back of my hand, I don’t feel the need to worry myself too much with him, there shouldn’t be too much of a surprise with what he’ll be offering up in the match. Ana Valentine, again, not too much of a surprise with that one, I already beat her ass throughout the arena, which leaves Aubrey Summers… this girl, now she’s a character, man. I have to admit I'm getting pretty damn tired of her wasting air time with her lesbian love triangle affairs, there’s just no place for it, it’s disgusting.
* Michael’s face becomes very bitter before he continues on. *
Michael: Moving on… I guess it’s fair to say that I'm more than a little pissed off that Steve Thunder doesn’t view me as much of a threat to him, if ever there has been a mistake to make, Thunder is making it now. He wants to cut me short, I’ll be sure to make the largest example out of him, finish the job that Odin started. Steve, you stupid son of a bitch, you failed to take the United States title from Odin and now you decide it wise to underestimate me? Well I’ll be sure to spin that on its head and make you pay for your rookie mistakes. Thunder… once you and I step inside that ring, I’ll show you what TPA is all about and it will be a lesson that you will not soon forget my friend.
* Michael motions a quick cutthroat to the cameraman who quickly cuts the feed. *
~~~ End Scene ~~~
