Post by Deleted on Jul 17, 2011 5:09:17 GMT -5
{{The scene opens with a shot of Phillip Baines sitting on a stool in front of his locker. Phil is lacing his size fifteen Chuck Taylor kicks after having completed another long, grueling training session at his home base, the Crimson House Dojo in Hartford, Connecticut. With that hard work out of the way, it's now time for WCF's reigning Hardcore Champion to enjoy a little bit of relaxation time.
In addition to those black Chucks, Baines is sporting blue jeans and a black T-shirt. This isn't just any T-shirt, mind you, it has a very distinctive design on the front. At the top of the design you see the words "Phillip Baines" emblazoned in a striking, crimson-colored font. Below that you see an artist's rendition of Baines pummeling WCF World Champion Donald "D-Day" Deruty with a microphone as blood spurts from Donald's face and forehead inside of a WCF ring. You recognize this gory scene from last Monday night's Slam, as no doubt will the rest of the WCF Universe. At the bottom of the design you see the words "The Young Lion" in the same crimson-colored font as before, this time tinged with "claw marks".
Baines rises to his feet and spins on his heel, now facing his locker. You see that on the back of Baines's T-shirt the words "Let me tell you something, asshole..." are emblazoned, also in the crimson font. Baines reaches into his locker and grabs a black comb. He slicks back his long black hair and checks himself in the mirror. Baines is looking sharp. The man-eater is a lady killer tonight! Baines turns around, facing your direction once again. He looks at you and nods his head, formally acknowledging your presence.}}
Phillip Baines: "So, what do you think of the shirt? Not bad, huh? I know it might seem kinda tacky to cash in on a current event, but I am the one who made that event possible, and what can I say? I'm a free-market capitalist! Having said that, this shirt is more than a marketing opportunity. It's a treat to myself and to all of the Baines loyalists out there, the Baines Backers as I like to call them. I know that my actions on Monday Night Slam were unpopular with many, including the reigning WCF World Champion, but I am not a man who enjoys being made to look like a fool. D-Day and Oblivion made me look like a fool with that little stunt that they pulled on the Fourth of July Slam. They left me with no other choice. I had to exact my vengeance, my payback as it were by assailing those men in a most brutal fashion. I'm not a violent sociopath like some members of the WCF roster. I always have a reason for my rhyme, a method for my madness. I wasn't trying to steal anyone's spotlight or interfere in the business of others. I was making a statement, just as I promised that I would before Slam. That statement was DO NOT FUCK WITH PHILLIP BAINES!!!"
{{Baines glares in your direction, not at you specifically, but at everyone.}}
Phil: "Did we get the message, people? Did we receive Phillip's statement loud and clear and process the information correctly? Do we now understand his point of view? Apparently not. You see I'm not even in the six-person World Title match at Ultimate Showdown, yet you might not know that based on how people have been mentioning me by name this week in their promos, issuing a litany of threats and ultimatums. 'Baines, don't cash in your World Title shot or, or, or... I'll huff and puff and blow your house down!'"
{{Phil scoffs as he dismisses this nonsense as just that: nonsense.}}
Phil: "Wigga please. Get out of my face with that noise. If I so please I will stroll down to that ring on Monday night, kick every last one of you mofos in your respective cocks, or cunt in Kaylyn's case, and then hit one of my signature-slash-finishing moves on each one of you. Check my bio, I have ten such moves in my arsenal. I could plant my size fifteen moon boot in Kaylyn's pretty face with the Bamboo Banga, send Odin back to Asgard with The Diss That Don't Miss, splatter Roy Speede with the move that he copped from me, the Liquid Courage, send Jay Price back to "The Future" with the Flux Capacitor, send Oblivion's fucked up world into a State of Emergency, and finally drop a bomb on D-Day with my infamous Halcyon Daze. From that point you can just start sending out bodies from the back. Send out FPV and I'll introduce him to the F.A., the Flash Apocalypse. Da Funk won't be dancing after I shatter his ankle with the Sacrificial Limb. Aubrey Summers? She won't be so beautiful after she tries to Catch A Falling Knife."
{{Baines is holding up nine fingers, after counting off each move so far.}}
Phil: "That leaves the Burning Bridge, my favorite submission hold in this world or the next, and from what I've heard Michael Santiago and Steve Thunder have both burned their bridges around here. Hell send 'em down to the ring and I'll finish 'em off for good."
{{Baines sneers as he runs all ten fingers through his long, coal-black hair.}}
Phil: "I'm no egomaniac like some of you motherfuckers around here, but I'll be damned if I'm going to be told what to do by the likes of D-Day, Roy Speede, Kaylyn James Evans, or anyone else who wishes to take the name of Phillip Baines in vain. If you bitches are thinking about me and talking about me, then you're not focused on the task at hand, which is winning the WCF World's Heavyweight Championship. Hell, I'll be doing your punk asses a favor if I cash in my title shot on Monday night because you're clearly not ready for prime time. You're not ready for the big stage. You're not ready to stand atop that mountain as the king of kings, or queen of queens, and lead WCF back to the promised land. Now I'm not tipping my hand of course..."
{{A sly smirk creeps across Phillip's face.}}
Phil: "I'm not saying that I'm going to exercise my contractual right to a World Title match at Ultimate Showdown, but I do reserve that right and nobody is going to stop me if I choose to do so. Roy Speede? Roy Speede is flapping his gums about me? Give me a break. Roy Speede is an infant, an imbecile, a wet-behind-the-ears punk kid who can't even bust a nut inside of his pretty blonde girlfriend. You want to tell me what to do, Roy? Who the hell do you think you are? You're nothing more than a little kid bouncing around on his bed in skidmarked tightie whities dreaming of what it's like to be a World Champion. You're not Phillip Baines. You cannot do what Phillip Baines does. You were in the WCF Classic. You had the same chance to capture that automatic World Title shot that I did. You failed. You lost to the man that I beat in the finals, the man who carried your ass to the World Tag Team Championships, Mr. FPV. How did you even qualify for the main event at Ultimate Showdown, Roy? Who the hell let you into a pay-per-view main event with the World Title on the line? You're not World Title material. You couldn't even bear the responsibility of being United States Champion. Hell, I'll bet my paycheck that you won't win at Ultimate Showdown or even finish in the final three. My paycheck against yours, Roy Boy. What do you say?"
{{Baines raises his hand as if ready to dismiss Speede with a flick of his wrist, but he pauses before doing so.}}
Phil: "By the way, Roy, I hate to break it to you, but Aubrey is just using you. She doesn't really like you. That's why she hasn't let you into her pants. She wants you to eliminate Kaylyn so that she can be WCF's alpha female. After you've taken care of her dirty work, she'll dump you like a used Tampon. That's how women operate in this business, Speede-o. They're cunning and ruthless, femme fatales between the ropes AND the sheets. Heed my words, Roy Boy, before it's too late and you've been used up and abused."
{{Now Baines flicks his wrist, dismissing Speede in an instant.}}
Phil: "As I stated earlier, Roy Speede was not the only one audacious enough to call out Phillip Baines this week."
{{Phil casts his glare down to the ground before looking up, with a twinkle in his eyes.}}
Phil: "It was so nice of you to address me, Ms. Kaylyn. I always love to hear my name parting from the lips of a beautiful woman. However I do have a bone to pick with you and I'm sure that it's not the bone that you were hoping for. You say that I interfered in your tag match on Slam. Not true. As you noted the match was already over before I arrived on the scene. I made sure that was the case because, unlike you, I'm not the type of person who interferes in other people's business. For all of my courage and all of my might, I don't seek to create unnecessary confrontations for myself. I'm a peace-loving motherfucker, a libertarian through and through. I lash out only as a means of self-preservation. D-Day and Oblivion wronged me on the Fourth of July with that mystery partner bullshit. I know it, you know it and the entire WCF Universe knows it. That is why I seized the opportunity to exact my revenge upon those two idiots at Slam. It was the right thing to do, the sensible thing to do... and frankly I had to do it to protect my manhood."
{{Phil smiles while gazing upon his loins and the ten-inch Johnson contained therein.}}
Phil: "As a female you might not understand that, Kaylyn. It's a guy thing. Of course there are some things that I don't understand about you. For example, I have no idea what your relationship with D-Day is. Are the two of you friends? Are you foes? Are you lovers? Did it wrench your stomach when you saw me beat him to a bloody pulp in the corner of your eye on Monday night while you were busy brawling with Odin? Perhaps it did. Perhaps that's why you're pissed at me. Did I upset you when I bashed in Donald's skull, Kaylyn? Did I offend your delicate female sensibilities. I'm ever so sorry if I did, Kaylyn. Will you please forgive me? Please, Kaylyn? I'll lick your purdy boots just like Aubrey did!"
{{Phil drops to his knees, presses his hands together in front of his face and feigns begging. Soon enough a smirk creeps across his face, he cracks his knuckles into place on both hands and abruptly rises to his feet.}}
Phil: "Lose the ego, woman. You have half the roster pissed off at you already, the last thing that you want to do is cross my path. That didn't work out too well for Doofus Day, now did it? Don't get me wrong, Kaylyn. I respect you as a competitor. I have no doubt that you're a legit contender in that World Title match and you've earned the right to be there, unlike some people. You're one tough chica. You've defeated many of the top male superstars in this company. Maybe you could even defeat me, but that would be a Catch Twenty-Two for you, my dear.
"See, the thing about me is that I tend to hook my rivals into these long, bloody feuds. I really don't want to drag you into that sort of thing. You know my rap sheet, babe. I killed Greenfever. I shortened Oblivion's life expectancy, as he did mine. I have Donald Deruty shitting his pants in fear over what I'm going to do to him... and what I've already done. You're a beautiful and talented woman and you seemingly have the entire world at your pretty, pedicured feet. You don't want to lose all of that, do you? I don't think that you do, Kaylyn. My advice to you is to not worry about what Phillip Baines is doing. All that you need to know is that I have no beef with you and that is to your advantage, but that can change in a heartbeat if you draw my ire. Just look at poor D-Day."
[{Phil grimaces while shaking his head.}}
Phil: "Speaking of the bloodied and beaten carcass of D-Day, Donald had some words for me in his first promo of the week. Big, strong, quarreling words at that. In his own partially-literate way he claimed that I had unleashed the beast inside of him, or something to that effect, as a result of my beatdown on him. Apparently Donald now views me in the same light as Torture. Really? Cool."
{{Phil nods his head and smiles, his face beaming with pride.}}
Phil: "Torture tormented you for months on end and then destroyed your father's and brothers' headstones before pissing on them. All I had to do was beat your face in with a microphone! To me that seems tame by comparison, but hey what do I know? I do know that you're an angry young man right now, Donald. You claim that you're going to show me Hell on Earth. That's funny, because I've already shown you Baines World and it's much scarier than Hell, a fact to which you can readily attest. You also claim that you're a loaded gun and I'm in your crosshairs. Donald, let me tell you something: If human beings were guns you would be a BB gun and I would be an AK-47. Maybe you can pierce my skin and cause a nasty bruise or scab, but I can paint the sky with your brain mist with one pull of my trigger. Do you honestly think that I'm scared of you, Donald? I certainly didn't feel scared when I was pummeling you into a bloody, unconscious pulp on Monday Night Slam.
"Hell if Cairo hadn't pulled me off of you I probably would have beaten you to death. I was in that kind of a crazed state of mind. I don't regret what I did either, not for one moment. I don't care that I ambushed you after a tough match anymore than you cared about me and Buzzsaw when you helped Oblivion ambush us in that tag match two weeks ago. Of course I'm not suggesting that you and I are the same kind of person, Donald. Not at all. I am the killing kind while you are a foolish little boy who knows not what he does. To the outside world you are the WCF World Champion, Donald, but inside you're still that little kid who showed up at wrestling school all those years ago looking for acceptance, hoping that someone would embrace him with open arms and be his friend. That's why you teamed with Oblivion, because he promised to be your friend even if it was only for one night. That's why you pander to the fans, because you think they're your friends when they cheer for you and chant your name."
{{Phil breathes a strained sigh and massages his forehead a bit with his hand.}}
Phil: "The problem for you, Donald, is that all of that is fleeting. For all intents and purposes, it's a mirage. It's not real. It's smoke and mirrors. You had a man who was actually interested in being your friend and you threw it away. That was your choice, Donald, not mine. You started this war, not me, and much like your father and brothers you too will perish in a war that you cannot win. It matters not to me whether you retain the World's Championship at Ultimate Showdown. I have my eyes on a much bigger prize: the skull of Donald "D-Day" Deruty!"
{{Baines closes his eyes and inhales deeply. He has a pleasurable look on his face, a look of sexual euphoria.}}
Phil: "Oh yes, yours will be the most delicious skull yet, Donald. I cannot wait to add you to my mantel!"
{{Phil's eyes pop open and he licks his lips. Phil cannot help but smile as thoughts of D-Day's skull resting upon his mantel no doubt dance inside of his own skull. Phil exhales deeply as he shakes his head, trying to shake the thoughts from his brain.}}
Phil: "All of that juicy skull drama is for the future. There is only one man in my present and sadly his name is not Donald Deruty. No, this man's name appears much farther down the marquee, so far down that it's barely visible. I speak of Ryan Blake, my opponent at Ultimate Showdown, a man with no distinguishable personality traits or marketable skills to speak of. I barely even know who he is and yet I'm defending my Hardcore Championship against him! Great booking job, CD!"
{{Baines rolls his eyes, angrily flares his nostrils and scowls at you, as if you were Creeping Death himself.}}
Phil: "As far as I can tell, based on what I was able to stomach of his promos, Blake is just another spoiled, egotistical, loud-mouthed, clueless, pissing-his-pants-and-shitting-his-shorts-because-he-doesn't-really-belong-in-WCF, punk kid who thinks he's God's gift to women, wrestling and everything else under the sun. I've watched his matches and from what I've been able to glean Ryan Blake is no Robert Blake. Robert Blake is methodical and merciless. He kills with point-blank precision. Ryan Blake has shown none of these tendencies. Quite frankly the kid has been a real dud here in Dub See Eff. He's had three matches, two of which were defeats, and his lone victory came against Shadow, who's a fucking joke around here in his own right to say the least. Blake also unsuccessfully attempted to seduce the Television Champion with a strip tease that was just... disturbing."
{{Baines grimaces, with a bitter look on his face, and shakes his head.}}
Phil: "Listen, as far as I'm concerned it's an affront to the WCF Hardcore Championship that Ryan Blake has been deemed a worthy challenger for the belt. During my three-month reign as champion I have worked tirelessly to redeem the Hardcore Championship from the mediocrity to which it had previously been condemned. I don't want to toot my own horn here, but I think that I've done a damn good job of making the Hardcore Title important once again, or perhaps even important for the first time in its existence now that I really think about it."
{{Baines strokes his smooth, clean-shaven chin with his fingertips while appearing to be nestled deep in thought, apparently pondering his previous point. After a few moments Baines breaks out of his trance and rejoins you in the here and now.}}
Phil: "The bottom line is that I do not intend to relinquish my deathgrip on the Hardcore Championship. If Ryan Blake has designs on stepping to Baines with delusional championship aspirations then our match on Monday night will prove to be the death blow for his fledgling and quite obviously futile career. Even if Blake hadn't been booked to face me at Ultimate Showdown, he would have likely been thrown into another match that he wasn't ready for. The difference is that I have the means to end Blake's career, and with hardcore rules in place all bets are off. I can do whatever the hell I want and that's a bad thing for any man who steps into the ring with me. Perhaps Mr. Blake thinks that he's doing the smart thing by keeping a low profile this week, hoping to fly under the radar and surprise me on Monday night? It won't work, Blake. You might have noticed that I was getting dressed in front of my locker when this promo began? That's because I had just finished another day of training here at Crimson House, more specifically training for my title defense against you. I'm not a dim-witted man, Blake. I do not underestimate my opponents. I never have and I never will.
"No matter how much trash I talk, I never get cocky and slack off. I always put in the hard work in training so that I can back up my words when match-time rolls around. That is your misfortunate, young Ryan. I'm sure that you were counting on having the element of surprise on your side, but that's nullified by a man such as Baines who does his homework and studies his opponents. I can read you like a book, Ryan, and I can see that you possess absolutely nothing with which to threaten me. I can also look into your future. I can see that you will not have a great and storied career in this company. Quite the contrary. You are destined to be little more than a footnote in the annals of Wrestling Championship Federation, to be tucked away and quickly forgotten like so many others who have come and gone before you. You just don't have the talent, the heart or the work ethic to cut it here, son."
{{Baines nods his head matter of factly as he stares at you with cold, unflinching eyes. After awhile Baines turns his attention elsewhere, to his locker, and tucks some items into his duffel bag. Baines zips up his bag and looks at you once more.}}
Phil: "I do not fret over the work that I must do, at Ultimate Showdown and beyond. I will not feel guilty about ending a career that should never have begun, the career of Ryan Blake. I will not feel remorseful about continuing to terrorize D-Day and eventually defeating him in the ring, ending his fraudulent reign of glory that also should never have begun. I, Phillip Baines, am carving out a true legacy in WCF. I don't apologize for that. I will destroy anyone and everyone who gets in my way... and that includes you!"
{{Phil stalks toward you, with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The scene fades as you flee in horror.}}
In addition to those black Chucks, Baines is sporting blue jeans and a black T-shirt. This isn't just any T-shirt, mind you, it has a very distinctive design on the front. At the top of the design you see the words "Phillip Baines" emblazoned in a striking, crimson-colored font. Below that you see an artist's rendition of Baines pummeling WCF World Champion Donald "D-Day" Deruty with a microphone as blood spurts from Donald's face and forehead inside of a WCF ring. You recognize this gory scene from last Monday night's Slam, as no doubt will the rest of the WCF Universe. At the bottom of the design you see the words "The Young Lion" in the same crimson-colored font as before, this time tinged with "claw marks".
Baines rises to his feet and spins on his heel, now facing his locker. You see that on the back of Baines's T-shirt the words "Let me tell you something, asshole..." are emblazoned, also in the crimson font. Baines reaches into his locker and grabs a black comb. He slicks back his long black hair and checks himself in the mirror. Baines is looking sharp. The man-eater is a lady killer tonight! Baines turns around, facing your direction once again. He looks at you and nods his head, formally acknowledging your presence.}}
Phillip Baines: "So, what do you think of the shirt? Not bad, huh? I know it might seem kinda tacky to cash in on a current event, but I am the one who made that event possible, and what can I say? I'm a free-market capitalist! Having said that, this shirt is more than a marketing opportunity. It's a treat to myself and to all of the Baines loyalists out there, the Baines Backers as I like to call them. I know that my actions on Monday Night Slam were unpopular with many, including the reigning WCF World Champion, but I am not a man who enjoys being made to look like a fool. D-Day and Oblivion made me look like a fool with that little stunt that they pulled on the Fourth of July Slam. They left me with no other choice. I had to exact my vengeance, my payback as it were by assailing those men in a most brutal fashion. I'm not a violent sociopath like some members of the WCF roster. I always have a reason for my rhyme, a method for my madness. I wasn't trying to steal anyone's spotlight or interfere in the business of others. I was making a statement, just as I promised that I would before Slam. That statement was DO NOT FUCK WITH PHILLIP BAINES!!!"
{{Baines glares in your direction, not at you specifically, but at everyone.}}
Phil: "Did we get the message, people? Did we receive Phillip's statement loud and clear and process the information correctly? Do we now understand his point of view? Apparently not. You see I'm not even in the six-person World Title match at Ultimate Showdown, yet you might not know that based on how people have been mentioning me by name this week in their promos, issuing a litany of threats and ultimatums. 'Baines, don't cash in your World Title shot or, or, or... I'll huff and puff and blow your house down!'"
{{Phil scoffs as he dismisses this nonsense as just that: nonsense.}}
Phil: "Wigga please. Get out of my face with that noise. If I so please I will stroll down to that ring on Monday night, kick every last one of you mofos in your respective cocks, or cunt in Kaylyn's case, and then hit one of my signature-slash-finishing moves on each one of you. Check my bio, I have ten such moves in my arsenal. I could plant my size fifteen moon boot in Kaylyn's pretty face with the Bamboo Banga, send Odin back to Asgard with The Diss That Don't Miss, splatter Roy Speede with the move that he copped from me, the Liquid Courage, send Jay Price back to "The Future" with the Flux Capacitor, send Oblivion's fucked up world into a State of Emergency, and finally drop a bomb on D-Day with my infamous Halcyon Daze. From that point you can just start sending out bodies from the back. Send out FPV and I'll introduce him to the F.A., the Flash Apocalypse. Da Funk won't be dancing after I shatter his ankle with the Sacrificial Limb. Aubrey Summers? She won't be so beautiful after she tries to Catch A Falling Knife."
{{Baines is holding up nine fingers, after counting off each move so far.}}
Phil: "That leaves the Burning Bridge, my favorite submission hold in this world or the next, and from what I've heard Michael Santiago and Steve Thunder have both burned their bridges around here. Hell send 'em down to the ring and I'll finish 'em off for good."
{{Baines sneers as he runs all ten fingers through his long, coal-black hair.}}
Phil: "I'm no egomaniac like some of you motherfuckers around here, but I'll be damned if I'm going to be told what to do by the likes of D-Day, Roy Speede, Kaylyn James Evans, or anyone else who wishes to take the name of Phillip Baines in vain. If you bitches are thinking about me and talking about me, then you're not focused on the task at hand, which is winning the WCF World's Heavyweight Championship. Hell, I'll be doing your punk asses a favor if I cash in my title shot on Monday night because you're clearly not ready for prime time. You're not ready for the big stage. You're not ready to stand atop that mountain as the king of kings, or queen of queens, and lead WCF back to the promised land. Now I'm not tipping my hand of course..."
{{A sly smirk creeps across Phillip's face.}}
Phil: "I'm not saying that I'm going to exercise my contractual right to a World Title match at Ultimate Showdown, but I do reserve that right and nobody is going to stop me if I choose to do so. Roy Speede? Roy Speede is flapping his gums about me? Give me a break. Roy Speede is an infant, an imbecile, a wet-behind-the-ears punk kid who can't even bust a nut inside of his pretty blonde girlfriend. You want to tell me what to do, Roy? Who the hell do you think you are? You're nothing more than a little kid bouncing around on his bed in skidmarked tightie whities dreaming of what it's like to be a World Champion. You're not Phillip Baines. You cannot do what Phillip Baines does. You were in the WCF Classic. You had the same chance to capture that automatic World Title shot that I did. You failed. You lost to the man that I beat in the finals, the man who carried your ass to the World Tag Team Championships, Mr. FPV. How did you even qualify for the main event at Ultimate Showdown, Roy? Who the hell let you into a pay-per-view main event with the World Title on the line? You're not World Title material. You couldn't even bear the responsibility of being United States Champion. Hell, I'll bet my paycheck that you won't win at Ultimate Showdown or even finish in the final three. My paycheck against yours, Roy Boy. What do you say?"
{{Baines raises his hand as if ready to dismiss Speede with a flick of his wrist, but he pauses before doing so.}}
Phil: "By the way, Roy, I hate to break it to you, but Aubrey is just using you. She doesn't really like you. That's why she hasn't let you into her pants. She wants you to eliminate Kaylyn so that she can be WCF's alpha female. After you've taken care of her dirty work, she'll dump you like a used Tampon. That's how women operate in this business, Speede-o. They're cunning and ruthless, femme fatales between the ropes AND the sheets. Heed my words, Roy Boy, before it's too late and you've been used up and abused."
{{Now Baines flicks his wrist, dismissing Speede in an instant.}}
Phil: "As I stated earlier, Roy Speede was not the only one audacious enough to call out Phillip Baines this week."
{{Phil casts his glare down to the ground before looking up, with a twinkle in his eyes.}}
Phil: "It was so nice of you to address me, Ms. Kaylyn. I always love to hear my name parting from the lips of a beautiful woman. However I do have a bone to pick with you and I'm sure that it's not the bone that you were hoping for. You say that I interfered in your tag match on Slam. Not true. As you noted the match was already over before I arrived on the scene. I made sure that was the case because, unlike you, I'm not the type of person who interferes in other people's business. For all of my courage and all of my might, I don't seek to create unnecessary confrontations for myself. I'm a peace-loving motherfucker, a libertarian through and through. I lash out only as a means of self-preservation. D-Day and Oblivion wronged me on the Fourth of July with that mystery partner bullshit. I know it, you know it and the entire WCF Universe knows it. That is why I seized the opportunity to exact my revenge upon those two idiots at Slam. It was the right thing to do, the sensible thing to do... and frankly I had to do it to protect my manhood."
{{Phil smiles while gazing upon his loins and the ten-inch Johnson contained therein.}}
Phil: "As a female you might not understand that, Kaylyn. It's a guy thing. Of course there are some things that I don't understand about you. For example, I have no idea what your relationship with D-Day is. Are the two of you friends? Are you foes? Are you lovers? Did it wrench your stomach when you saw me beat him to a bloody pulp in the corner of your eye on Monday night while you were busy brawling with Odin? Perhaps it did. Perhaps that's why you're pissed at me. Did I upset you when I bashed in Donald's skull, Kaylyn? Did I offend your delicate female sensibilities. I'm ever so sorry if I did, Kaylyn. Will you please forgive me? Please, Kaylyn? I'll lick your purdy boots just like Aubrey did!"
{{Phil drops to his knees, presses his hands together in front of his face and feigns begging. Soon enough a smirk creeps across his face, he cracks his knuckles into place on both hands and abruptly rises to his feet.}}
Phil: "Lose the ego, woman. You have half the roster pissed off at you already, the last thing that you want to do is cross my path. That didn't work out too well for Doofus Day, now did it? Don't get me wrong, Kaylyn. I respect you as a competitor. I have no doubt that you're a legit contender in that World Title match and you've earned the right to be there, unlike some people. You're one tough chica. You've defeated many of the top male superstars in this company. Maybe you could even defeat me, but that would be a Catch Twenty-Two for you, my dear.
"See, the thing about me is that I tend to hook my rivals into these long, bloody feuds. I really don't want to drag you into that sort of thing. You know my rap sheet, babe. I killed Greenfever. I shortened Oblivion's life expectancy, as he did mine. I have Donald Deruty shitting his pants in fear over what I'm going to do to him... and what I've already done. You're a beautiful and talented woman and you seemingly have the entire world at your pretty, pedicured feet. You don't want to lose all of that, do you? I don't think that you do, Kaylyn. My advice to you is to not worry about what Phillip Baines is doing. All that you need to know is that I have no beef with you and that is to your advantage, but that can change in a heartbeat if you draw my ire. Just look at poor D-Day."
[{Phil grimaces while shaking his head.}}
Phil: "Speaking of the bloodied and beaten carcass of D-Day, Donald had some words for me in his first promo of the week. Big, strong, quarreling words at that. In his own partially-literate way he claimed that I had unleashed the beast inside of him, or something to that effect, as a result of my beatdown on him. Apparently Donald now views me in the same light as Torture. Really? Cool."
{{Phil nods his head and smiles, his face beaming with pride.}}
Phil: "Torture tormented you for months on end and then destroyed your father's and brothers' headstones before pissing on them. All I had to do was beat your face in with a microphone! To me that seems tame by comparison, but hey what do I know? I do know that you're an angry young man right now, Donald. You claim that you're going to show me Hell on Earth. That's funny, because I've already shown you Baines World and it's much scarier than Hell, a fact to which you can readily attest. You also claim that you're a loaded gun and I'm in your crosshairs. Donald, let me tell you something: If human beings were guns you would be a BB gun and I would be an AK-47. Maybe you can pierce my skin and cause a nasty bruise or scab, but I can paint the sky with your brain mist with one pull of my trigger. Do you honestly think that I'm scared of you, Donald? I certainly didn't feel scared when I was pummeling you into a bloody, unconscious pulp on Monday Night Slam.
"Hell if Cairo hadn't pulled me off of you I probably would have beaten you to death. I was in that kind of a crazed state of mind. I don't regret what I did either, not for one moment. I don't care that I ambushed you after a tough match anymore than you cared about me and Buzzsaw when you helped Oblivion ambush us in that tag match two weeks ago. Of course I'm not suggesting that you and I are the same kind of person, Donald. Not at all. I am the killing kind while you are a foolish little boy who knows not what he does. To the outside world you are the WCF World Champion, Donald, but inside you're still that little kid who showed up at wrestling school all those years ago looking for acceptance, hoping that someone would embrace him with open arms and be his friend. That's why you teamed with Oblivion, because he promised to be your friend even if it was only for one night. That's why you pander to the fans, because you think they're your friends when they cheer for you and chant your name."
{{Phil breathes a strained sigh and massages his forehead a bit with his hand.}}
Phil: "The problem for you, Donald, is that all of that is fleeting. For all intents and purposes, it's a mirage. It's not real. It's smoke and mirrors. You had a man who was actually interested in being your friend and you threw it away. That was your choice, Donald, not mine. You started this war, not me, and much like your father and brothers you too will perish in a war that you cannot win. It matters not to me whether you retain the World's Championship at Ultimate Showdown. I have my eyes on a much bigger prize: the skull of Donald "D-Day" Deruty!"
{{Baines closes his eyes and inhales deeply. He has a pleasurable look on his face, a look of sexual euphoria.}}
Phil: "Oh yes, yours will be the most delicious skull yet, Donald. I cannot wait to add you to my mantel!"
{{Phil's eyes pop open and he licks his lips. Phil cannot help but smile as thoughts of D-Day's skull resting upon his mantel no doubt dance inside of his own skull. Phil exhales deeply as he shakes his head, trying to shake the thoughts from his brain.}}
Phil: "All of that juicy skull drama is for the future. There is only one man in my present and sadly his name is not Donald Deruty. No, this man's name appears much farther down the marquee, so far down that it's barely visible. I speak of Ryan Blake, my opponent at Ultimate Showdown, a man with no distinguishable personality traits or marketable skills to speak of. I barely even know who he is and yet I'm defending my Hardcore Championship against him! Great booking job, CD!"
{{Baines rolls his eyes, angrily flares his nostrils and scowls at you, as if you were Creeping Death himself.}}
Phil: "As far as I can tell, based on what I was able to stomach of his promos, Blake is just another spoiled, egotistical, loud-mouthed, clueless, pissing-his-pants-and-shitting-his-shorts-because-he-doesn't-really-belong-in-WCF, punk kid who thinks he's God's gift to women, wrestling and everything else under the sun. I've watched his matches and from what I've been able to glean Ryan Blake is no Robert Blake. Robert Blake is methodical and merciless. He kills with point-blank precision. Ryan Blake has shown none of these tendencies. Quite frankly the kid has been a real dud here in Dub See Eff. He's had three matches, two of which were defeats, and his lone victory came against Shadow, who's a fucking joke around here in his own right to say the least. Blake also unsuccessfully attempted to seduce the Television Champion with a strip tease that was just... disturbing."
{{Baines grimaces, with a bitter look on his face, and shakes his head.}}
Phil: "Listen, as far as I'm concerned it's an affront to the WCF Hardcore Championship that Ryan Blake has been deemed a worthy challenger for the belt. During my three-month reign as champion I have worked tirelessly to redeem the Hardcore Championship from the mediocrity to which it had previously been condemned. I don't want to toot my own horn here, but I think that I've done a damn good job of making the Hardcore Title important once again, or perhaps even important for the first time in its existence now that I really think about it."
{{Baines strokes his smooth, clean-shaven chin with his fingertips while appearing to be nestled deep in thought, apparently pondering his previous point. After a few moments Baines breaks out of his trance and rejoins you in the here and now.}}
Phil: "The bottom line is that I do not intend to relinquish my deathgrip on the Hardcore Championship. If Ryan Blake has designs on stepping to Baines with delusional championship aspirations then our match on Monday night will prove to be the death blow for his fledgling and quite obviously futile career. Even if Blake hadn't been booked to face me at Ultimate Showdown, he would have likely been thrown into another match that he wasn't ready for. The difference is that I have the means to end Blake's career, and with hardcore rules in place all bets are off. I can do whatever the hell I want and that's a bad thing for any man who steps into the ring with me. Perhaps Mr. Blake thinks that he's doing the smart thing by keeping a low profile this week, hoping to fly under the radar and surprise me on Monday night? It won't work, Blake. You might have noticed that I was getting dressed in front of my locker when this promo began? That's because I had just finished another day of training here at Crimson House, more specifically training for my title defense against you. I'm not a dim-witted man, Blake. I do not underestimate my opponents. I never have and I never will.
"No matter how much trash I talk, I never get cocky and slack off. I always put in the hard work in training so that I can back up my words when match-time rolls around. That is your misfortunate, young Ryan. I'm sure that you were counting on having the element of surprise on your side, but that's nullified by a man such as Baines who does his homework and studies his opponents. I can read you like a book, Ryan, and I can see that you possess absolutely nothing with which to threaten me. I can also look into your future. I can see that you will not have a great and storied career in this company. Quite the contrary. You are destined to be little more than a footnote in the annals of Wrestling Championship Federation, to be tucked away and quickly forgotten like so many others who have come and gone before you. You just don't have the talent, the heart or the work ethic to cut it here, son."
{{Baines nods his head matter of factly as he stares at you with cold, unflinching eyes. After awhile Baines turns his attention elsewhere, to his locker, and tucks some items into his duffel bag. Baines zips up his bag and looks at you once more.}}
Phil: "I do not fret over the work that I must do, at Ultimate Showdown and beyond. I will not feel guilty about ending a career that should never have begun, the career of Ryan Blake. I will not feel remorseful about continuing to terrorize D-Day and eventually defeating him in the ring, ending his fraudulent reign of glory that also should never have begun. I, Phillip Baines, am carving out a true legacy in WCF. I don't apologize for that. I will destroy anyone and everyone who gets in my way... and that includes you!"
{{Phil stalks toward you, with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The scene fades as you flee in horror.}}
