Post by Speede on Jul 18, 2011 11:18:55 GMT -5
The scene opens in a partially-lit hallway. The ceiling tiles were a dull gray, and the walls matched; the floor was shiny, and made of white tiles that appeared to have been recently polished, judging by the reflection of light. The shot was focused on double doors made of wood, perhaps oak, with two silver metal handles side by side, one on either side of the crack between the two doors, separating them. There is a small window hole cut out of each door, at least five and a half feet up, and arched like a half-moon, the flat side facing down. Through those windows, all that can be seen is a white wall across the room from the door, definitely a ways away. From inside the room, squeaking can be heard.
From the left, in a casual walking manner, Roy Speede enters the shot wearing a orange tee shirt, loose-fitting orange shorts, and black Vans with orange laces, facing the door and with some sort of wrapper in his hand, the food still tucked inside it snugly. He reaches for the metal handle to the left of the two door, when his head turns over his shoulder. He spins quickly, as if he were startled, and leans back against the door. Regaining his composure, he leans his back flat against the door, and places his feet flat on the floor, one hand still holding that slightly crinkled food wrapper, the other gripping the door knob. A grin grows on his face as he turns his head slightly, and he turns the knob, not opening the door anyway as he leans against it, and then releases the handle altogether. With a chuckle, he takes a handful of some small, round, colored candies of an unspecified type, and his hand pops those candies into his mouth. An eyebrow raises as he chews them thoughtfully, and as he finishes his consumption of the handful of candies, his mouth opens to speak.
Roy Speede: “Ahh, the incredible flavor of Skittles never fails to amuse me. Skittles, these tiny, chewy, fruit-flavored candies, are and always have been one of my favorite treats. It’s a snack like this that I’d often enjoyed when I first started out training for a career in this business. Not only are Skittles a candy I enjoyed, but I loved the sugar rush. The sugar alone was enough to give me a boost before a hard-fought match, but when I mixed these treats into a bottle of Dr. Pepper... So many memories these little candies bring back, being not only my favorite candy, but my cousin’s favorite candy as well. Such a simple thing as a pack of candy could build the most bizarre of friendships, and such a simple thing could tear those same friendships apart...”
He lets out a sigh, and stares off into the distance. The camera turns around, and nothing but a brick wall in a depressing gray color stands before the camera. It shifts back to Roy, and he is still staring there. He regains his composure and speaks.
Roy Speede: “One memory in particular rests so clear in my mind. That memory being the first time I ever stepped into a wrestling ring during my training. I remember it as if it were just yesterday...”
*FLASHBACK!*
A darkened room, with five spotlightslights in an x pattern across the ceiling being the only thing illuminating anything at all, is shown. Those lights, of course, were focused down on a wrestling ring, the ropes a bright yellow, the mat with multiple blood stains on it from over the years that never came out. Standing off to one side, staring at the ring, barely visible, are three teenagers, none of them possibly over the age of nineteen. The one closest to the camera is the shortest, but appears the oldest judging by the goatee present; he’s balt except for that goatee, and has on navy blue shorts and some black Reeboks. Beside him stands a man not much taller, but noticeably younger by the still-immature look upon his face and general excitement he displayed toward seeing that ring. His baggy blue jeans worn low, allowing his underwear to be shown, wearing some black Vans that are barely visible with the lighting, that would also be hard to see even in bright sunlight because of the bagginess of the blue jeans he is wearing. The third boy is the tallest, and his hair is long, pulled back with a band so that his hair is behind his head; he has a five o’clock shadow, and is wearing green cargo shorts and white Nikes; he’s presumably younger than the first boy, but is likely older than the second.
As the three of them stand, watching the ring with a look of mixed awe and excitement upon each of their faces, several minutes pass before the one on the far end speaks.
Third Boy: “Well, guys, I think the instructor forgot about us...”
Second Boy: “Nah, Nolan, he’ll be here, just you wait.”
The boy in the middle’s voice is unmistakable, and by the sound of his voice, it’s obvious that this is a flashback to two years prior, when Roy Speede took his first steps into a wrestling ring. The younger Roy Speede in the flashback appears as eager as the modern day Speede. By the response Roy gave, the third boy is assumed to be his childhood friend, Nolan Walker.
Nolan Walker: “Roy, Alex, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not waiting around. I’m getting in that ring.”
The un-named boy is revealed to be Roy’s cousin, Alex Haden, the eldest of the three, and supposedly the wisest.
Alex Haden: “I’m in. Come on, Roy, we’ll have a match; Nolan faces the winner!”
Nolan Walker: “Yeah, come on man, nobody’s watching. We won’t get in trouble!”
Roy Speede: “I’m in, guys. You know I wouldn’t miss this moment.”
The three of them step forward simultaneously, and all three slide into the ring at almost the same time, Nolan a bit ahead of Alex, who is a bit ahead of Roy. Once into the ring, the three boys get to their feet, and Nolan does his best imitation of a ring announcer.
Nolan Walker: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, Alex Haden, and his opponent, Roy Speede! Ding.
The two, Alex and Roy, start trading grapples and moves one for one until Roy starts getting the upper hand. Lifting Alex onto his shoulders, he powers Alex down with a burning hammer-type move, and goes to the top rope. From the top rope, Roy jumps off, doing a kind of backwards flip, and finishing with a frog splash style move. It was performed very sloppily, but was executed nonetheless, and Nolan, acting as if he were an official, slapped a three-count, ending the illegitimate match between the two competitors. Roy gets to his feet, and helps Alex to his.
Alex Haden: “Roy, man, that was sick!”
A voice creeps out from the shadows.
Voice: “Yes, children. The move was indeed ‘sick’ as you say. But you have trespassed in my ring without my permission.”
A trainer, dressed fully in white, from long white tights to a long-sleeve white shirt, and even white shoes. In a single motion, he jumps at the ring apron, and grabs the top rope with his hands, before landing on his feet inside the ring. The men get a better look a the younger-looking man with dark spiked hair and a goatee just along the bottom of his chin, much like the way Alex was wearing his. The man started to chuckle at the events that occurred.
Voice: “Relax, children. I am impressed with your display. Young Mister Speede, the move you just used from that top rope, it is one of the moves I mastered in my days in wrestling. I will show you how it is done and developed, and train you. You have great potential.”
Roy Speede: “Thank you, sensei. I shall not let you down, siensei.”
Sensei: “As for the others, I shall train you as well, but I sense a great deal of potential in you, Mister Speede. Now let your training begin.”
The scene fades out as the sensei begins the training session with the youngsters, starting with teaching a basic roundhouse kick, or so it appears. The present day shot of that wooden door remains, although Roy is nowhere to be seen. The door, however, is drifting shut, and the cameraman catches it, and strolls inside, shifting from side to side all around the room for Roy Speede. Inside, however, Roy isn’t really noticeable right away; what is noticeable is a dodgeball game going on in the middle of the gymnasium the shot just entered; five men in orange shirts to the left, six men in green shirts to the right, all playing dodgeball. As the door closes behind the camera, the game comes to a halt almost immediately, everyone looking over toward the camera for a moment before the game resumes. The shot turns, and finds Roy Speede sitting on a metal bench about halfway up the stack of bleachers.
Roy Speede: “What? Are you accusing me of wussing out because I ain’t out there right now playing? Well I ain’t; I’m strategizing, which is what each and every one of my opponents should be doing as well. This match is all about strategy, and I don’t care who you are, if you are in the wrong place at the wrong time, you will not walk out of this match with a title belt. If you prepare the right strategy, anything is possible, even for someone as miserable as ol’ Jay Price.
Now I’m not saying he’s going to be winning, or anything of that sort, but if the guy’s smart enough to stay out of the damned ring, it’s possible. Not probable, not likely, not even something most of these guys would anticipate, mind you, but possible nonetheless. The guy keeps reminding me of a certain ‘I Quit’ match with Gravedigger and Brad Kane a while back, but from that reminder comes an even bigger revelation: By the time I’m done with him this Monday, Jay Price will be screaming “I RETIRE!!!” , his jaws screaming out in pain from the merciless beating I’m going to give that guy. You may be a confident S.O.B. Price, but just look, I ooze confidence, my mouth flows with those confident, perhaps even arrogant words day in and day out, and all I hear from you is whining and moaning about how you lost your beloved WAR Match back in 2009. “Oh look at me, I’m arrogant. I’m gonna win this.” You sound like fuckin’ Charlie Sheen, only you, my friend, aren’t going to be doing any winning.
You know what, Price? I’m getting sick and tired of your mouth. And you screaming about how you love feces more than Jason Kash isn’t gonna help; neither is complaining about the lack of a World Title Belt around your waist. But you know what I haven’t heard out of you? I haven’t heard any of the god damned smarts that you seem to be proclaiming you have. Yeah, I may have spoken those two words against Gravedigger, but I fought one hell of a match, and I’m still proud that I went toe-to-toe with two WCF Hall-of-Famers. Sound familiar, Price? It should; you were the one talking arrogant about standing tall against Logan and Slickie T with no fear, and about being proud of yourself afterwards. I did the same exact fucking thing. And you know what? I could honestly not care less about your accomplishments. They mean nothing to me.
Another thing that I don’t care about at all, Price, are the words you preach to the fans; say what you want about expecting to win, but we all know the truth, Price. We all know it is I who is going to walk out of this match the victor. You may be able to get second place if you’re lucky, Price, but there is no way I’m going to let a worthless sack of crap like you beat me. This is my time to shine, not yours!”
Roy gets up, and walks down the stair-like seats of the bleachers, onto the main gym floor. He steps into the brand new game, joining his orange-shirted teammates. As the game starts, he dodges an initial flurry of playground balls hurled at him, and laughs.
Roy Speede: “You see, much like this Ultimate Showdown main event, dodgeball is all about strategy. You can’t just go running into the match blindly, firing at everyone who just so happens to cross your path, hoping you don’t screw up. And you know who doesn’t seem to do well when trying to strategize? The ones who don’t do well trying to formulate a plan and stick to it are Oblivion and Odin Balfore. Those two always go full-force into an onslaught, not giving a damn who they hurt when they step into the ring; while that may be effective for them sometimes, in this main event, those two need to develop a plan so they can actually have a chance at winning. A plan that doesn’t involve blindly hurling themselves around the ring looking to hurt anything that moves like ogres. And no, guys, I don’t mean you should turn into Shrek; I mean an actual beast of a being, like Shaquille O’Neal. Someone that has size, but knows how to use it; that’s what you should be looking for.”
As the game starts to heat up, Roy starts paying more and more attention. His teammates are falling, and they’re down six players to three. He continues dodging the shots, firing a few of his own here and there, and continues to speak, occasionally pausing to make a quick dodge.
Roy Speede: “The first of those two men, Oblivion, is still somewhat of a mystery to me. Stephan Johnson, as he is known by some, is just plain bizarre. He may be a deadly force, but there will not be a Roy Speede defeat in this match; I’m going to shut this veteran up once and for all. Talk about being a youth has been something that I’m proud of, because while he’s a veteran passing over his prime, I’m still approaching mine, and when I hit my prime, I’ll be better than he ever was, and ever will be. Heck, I think I’m at that point now, to be honest, what with all these mind-games he’s trying to play. Shoot, I think the Super Bowl had me worrying about the outcome of an important showdown more than Oblivion does.
And then we have Odin Balfore... This guy is just begging for an ass-kicking. For someone that only fears himself, he sure seems a bit tense about this match, and he sure seems a bit shaky about this match. Take his joke about me being the offspring of Jay Price. One, Price and I aren’t even related, two, it was never announced the possibility that Price and I were father and son, but uncle and nephew, and three, I wouldn’t be caught dead supporting Jay Price. Anywhere. He’s right about one thing, Odin is a pathetic excuse; a pathetic excuse for a wrestler; a pathetic excuse for a man; a pathetic excuse for a waste of matter. He doesn’t know whether to face me or fear me, from the looks of things; he talked about how I’m the most adapted to the tag style of the match, and he talked about how I’m right, and he’s old as dirt, yet he still refuses to believe that I’m going to defeat him this Monday, and he still refuses to so much as come up with something original to say about me. He’s a disgrace to that United States title belt, a disgrace to the Wrestling Championship Federation... hell, he’s even a disgrace to his raccoon boyfriend. He’s got no chance to win this match, and he knows it. He needs to just step out of the way and let the real fighters do their fighting.”
Roy’s last teammate gets hit with a shot to the leg, leaving Speede alone in the match against six players on the green team. He looks over at the camera, and speaks.
Roy Speede: “Now isn’t this appropriate? Six guys against me. Just like how there will be six guys gunning for me this Monday. This is where the strategy comes into play.”
He grabs two of those kickballs , playground balls, whatever you want to call them off the ground by his feet, and draws back, before firing one into the midst of the six. One falls to the ground after being hit by a shot in the gut. He grabs a third round of ammo, and tosses it straight up into the air. At that point, he draws back, and fires the other ball, hitting another of his opponents.
Roy Speede: “First things first, narrow down the competition with some easy mind-tricks, and figure out who the real competition is.”
As one of the remaining green team players grabs a playground ball, Roy sidesteps, letting the one he’d tossed in the air bounce on the ground; the player throws the shot, and Roy catches it at his chest, making his opponent the one eliminated.
Roy Speede: “When things are getting rough, a quick reversal or two can put you right back in the thick of it.”
He rolls one of the two playground balls from his side across the center line slowly, and one of the players runs up to get it. He uses the other one to eliminate him with a sharp shot to the back of the guy’s head.
Roy Speede: “And when your opponents make a rookie mistake, don’t be afraid to capitalize. Setting them up for a difficult decision can be good, too.”
As the two remaining players on the green team grab the ammo, they fire all three playground balls at him simultaneously; Roy hits the ground on his stomach to dodge, and stands back up, grabbing all three, ready to put the game away.
Roy Speede: “When the time comes for things to come to an end, don’t be afraid to finish the match off with a bang!”
He fires all three in rapid succession, the first pelting one opponent in the chest, the second pelting the other in the stomach, and the third hitting the second one in the face, eliminating both. Roy turns around and is congratulated by his teammates. One of them in particular takes him aside and sits down next to him on the bottom bench of the bleachers; it’s Alex Haden, Roy’s cousin.
Roy Speede: “Hey, Alex! Good game, man!”
Alex Haden: “Me good game? You dominated out there!”
Roy Speede: “That? That was nothing. Wait until Monday!”
Alex Haden: “Well you’ve got five opponents gunning for you Monday. Tell me something, man; what was that you were saying earlier, before and during the match?”
Roy Speede: “I was just highlighting the reasons Jay Price, Oblivion, and Odin Balfore will not beat me. While talking about their butts was fun, I’ve still got three more people on my mind that I have something I’d like to say to.”
Alex Haden: “Go ahead, bro, I’m just here to listen.”
Roy Speede: “Well, first there’s Kaylyn James Evans. The quote-unquote Perfect Ten has been driving me nuts lately, with all her mumbo-jumbo about Aubrey, about how she has supposedly been getting by without Creeping Death’s help... We all know he’s helping her, but from what standpoint may be a matter of opinion. So she says he’s pushing her harder; big whoop. That isn’t helping her. He’s making it easier on her, keeping an eye on her from ringside each and every match. That’s something that’s bound to make things easier on her, having a body guard for when things go wrong. Well I’ve come to a bit of a realization. While she has Creeping Death on her side, who would more than likely fire anyone she asked him to, she herself cannot do a damned thing. That leads me to believe, however, that since she supposedly doesn’t want Creeping Death’s help, she won’t be able to do a damned thing when I destroy her on Monday. She thinks I’m using Aubrey for attention, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I love Aubrey, and I’ll do anything for her. Unlike how Creeping Death doesn’t help Kaylyn at all, apparently, I will always be there when Aubrey needs me. I’m a damned good boyfriend, if I do say so myself, and if I’m wanted there, I’ll be there for Aubrey until the end of time.
She’s a flirt, dude. A hopeless flirt. Odin sees through her little ruse, and so do I, and that may be the one thing that keeps me from destroying Odin right away; I want to destroy Kaylyn first. Get her little sorry ass out of that ring before she starts being her bitchy self again. If anything, her words are more annoying than her pathetic excuse for a wrestling ability... Sure, we were at one point friendly toward one another. She almost had me in her little trap; she almost had me wrapped around her finger like she does Steve Thunder, like she does Creeping Death... I could’ve been another loser like them, but instead she started abusing Aubrey, and that got me to see through her ruse. So in a way, she brought my hatred for her upon herself. And now she has brought a merciless beating at the hands of Roy Speede upon herself. And that’s all that needs to be said; I’m going to hurt her.
Then, there’s the man I’ve already said all that needs to be said about, Donald Deruty. I respect Mr. Deruty more than I’ve respected any World Champ in the company’s history, and Mr. Deruty is, on all honesty, one of, if not the best wrestler in the world today. But every great wrestler has their off nights, dude, and this Monday is going to be his off night. I’m going to go into that ring, and when I step out of that ring, I’ll be hoisting the World Championship. He doesn’t seem to be able to get it through his head that I’m in a stronger state of mind than even him. He’s too worried about another competitor that isn’t even scheduled for a World Title match this evening cashing in his World Title shot from the WCF Classic, when in reality that may not even happen. While I’ve got Aubrey on my mind all day, I know she wants me focused on my match, so I let those worries go so that I can keep the promise I made her, and win that World Heavyweight Championship.
If Baines cashes in his World Title Shot, let him. I’m going to make sure I still walk out the World Champ, bro, and D-Day can worry all he wants to about Phillip Baines, but I could literally not care less about Phillip Baines right now. Let him wait in the wings watching for that moment to strike when a winner is crowned. I’ll take that World Heavyweight Championship belt, smash is across his skull, plant him with the Speede of Light, and walk back up that ramp with my first title defense already a success. He’s still got a Hardcore Championship defense against Ryan Blake to worry about, too, man, and if Ryan Blake is successful, Phillip Baines won’t be in any condition to cash in that World Title anyway, you know? Not to mention his honestly insufficient words against me. Sure, I’m young. Who hasn’t already said that? Huh? I’m going to go into Ultimate Showdown and shut him up once and for all. In case he wasn’t paying attention, I carried the team of Mr. FPV and Roy Speede to the Tag Team Titles, and I’ll carry the Speede fanbase to its first World Championship ever. He bets his paycheck I won’t finish in the top three? Well he’d better start signing that slip of paper for that big lump sum of money now, because there’s no way I walk out of this Pay-Per-View without a singles championship over my shoulder. I already know Oblivion and Jay Price and Odin and Kaylyn aren’t walking out of there with the World Title; it’s either me or Deruty, and I’m putting my money on one Roy Speede. Let him talk all he fuckin’ wants. When the time comes, he won’t have the testicular fortitude to put his money where his mouth is, and at the end of the night, I’ll be that World Heavyweight Champion.”
Alex gives Roy a pat on the back, and shakes his hand.
Alex Haden: “Good luck man; I know you’ll do great. Call me after the show and let me know how it goes, a’ite?”
Roy Speede: “A’ite man. I’ll see you later. I’m going to be flying back to Pennsylvania tonight, and then we’ll see where things really stand. Later bro.”
Roy and Alex get up from the bleachers, and the two cousins share a hug. Roy walks over toward the door, and waves as he steps outside, the scene fading to black.
From the left, in a casual walking manner, Roy Speede enters the shot wearing a orange tee shirt, loose-fitting orange shorts, and black Vans with orange laces, facing the door and with some sort of wrapper in his hand, the food still tucked inside it snugly. He reaches for the metal handle to the left of the two door, when his head turns over his shoulder. He spins quickly, as if he were startled, and leans back against the door. Regaining his composure, he leans his back flat against the door, and places his feet flat on the floor, one hand still holding that slightly crinkled food wrapper, the other gripping the door knob. A grin grows on his face as he turns his head slightly, and he turns the knob, not opening the door anyway as he leans against it, and then releases the handle altogether. With a chuckle, he takes a handful of some small, round, colored candies of an unspecified type, and his hand pops those candies into his mouth. An eyebrow raises as he chews them thoughtfully, and as he finishes his consumption of the handful of candies, his mouth opens to speak.
Roy Speede: “Ahh, the incredible flavor of Skittles never fails to amuse me. Skittles, these tiny, chewy, fruit-flavored candies, are and always have been one of my favorite treats. It’s a snack like this that I’d often enjoyed when I first started out training for a career in this business. Not only are Skittles a candy I enjoyed, but I loved the sugar rush. The sugar alone was enough to give me a boost before a hard-fought match, but when I mixed these treats into a bottle of Dr. Pepper... So many memories these little candies bring back, being not only my favorite candy, but my cousin’s favorite candy as well. Such a simple thing as a pack of candy could build the most bizarre of friendships, and such a simple thing could tear those same friendships apart...”
He lets out a sigh, and stares off into the distance. The camera turns around, and nothing but a brick wall in a depressing gray color stands before the camera. It shifts back to Roy, and he is still staring there. He regains his composure and speaks.
Roy Speede: “One memory in particular rests so clear in my mind. That memory being the first time I ever stepped into a wrestling ring during my training. I remember it as if it were just yesterday...”
*FLASHBACK!*
A darkened room, with five spotlightslights in an x pattern across the ceiling being the only thing illuminating anything at all, is shown. Those lights, of course, were focused down on a wrestling ring, the ropes a bright yellow, the mat with multiple blood stains on it from over the years that never came out. Standing off to one side, staring at the ring, barely visible, are three teenagers, none of them possibly over the age of nineteen. The one closest to the camera is the shortest, but appears the oldest judging by the goatee present; he’s balt except for that goatee, and has on navy blue shorts and some black Reeboks. Beside him stands a man not much taller, but noticeably younger by the still-immature look upon his face and general excitement he displayed toward seeing that ring. His baggy blue jeans worn low, allowing his underwear to be shown, wearing some black Vans that are barely visible with the lighting, that would also be hard to see even in bright sunlight because of the bagginess of the blue jeans he is wearing. The third boy is the tallest, and his hair is long, pulled back with a band so that his hair is behind his head; he has a five o’clock shadow, and is wearing green cargo shorts and white Nikes; he’s presumably younger than the first boy, but is likely older than the second.
As the three of them stand, watching the ring with a look of mixed awe and excitement upon each of their faces, several minutes pass before the one on the far end speaks.
Third Boy: “Well, guys, I think the instructor forgot about us...”
Second Boy: “Nah, Nolan, he’ll be here, just you wait.”
The boy in the middle’s voice is unmistakable, and by the sound of his voice, it’s obvious that this is a flashback to two years prior, when Roy Speede took his first steps into a wrestling ring. The younger Roy Speede in the flashback appears as eager as the modern day Speede. By the response Roy gave, the third boy is assumed to be his childhood friend, Nolan Walker.
Nolan Walker: “Roy, Alex, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not waiting around. I’m getting in that ring.”
The un-named boy is revealed to be Roy’s cousin, Alex Haden, the eldest of the three, and supposedly the wisest.
Alex Haden: “I’m in. Come on, Roy, we’ll have a match; Nolan faces the winner!”
Nolan Walker: “Yeah, come on man, nobody’s watching. We won’t get in trouble!”
Roy Speede: “I’m in, guys. You know I wouldn’t miss this moment.”
The three of them step forward simultaneously, and all three slide into the ring at almost the same time, Nolan a bit ahead of Alex, who is a bit ahead of Roy. Once into the ring, the three boys get to their feet, and Nolan does his best imitation of a ring announcer.
Nolan Walker: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, Alex Haden, and his opponent, Roy Speede! Ding.
The two, Alex and Roy, start trading grapples and moves one for one until Roy starts getting the upper hand. Lifting Alex onto his shoulders, he powers Alex down with a burning hammer-type move, and goes to the top rope. From the top rope, Roy jumps off, doing a kind of backwards flip, and finishing with a frog splash style move. It was performed very sloppily, but was executed nonetheless, and Nolan, acting as if he were an official, slapped a three-count, ending the illegitimate match between the two competitors. Roy gets to his feet, and helps Alex to his.
Alex Haden: “Roy, man, that was sick!”
A voice creeps out from the shadows.
Voice: “Yes, children. The move was indeed ‘sick’ as you say. But you have trespassed in my ring without my permission.”
A trainer, dressed fully in white, from long white tights to a long-sleeve white shirt, and even white shoes. In a single motion, he jumps at the ring apron, and grabs the top rope with his hands, before landing on his feet inside the ring. The men get a better look a the younger-looking man with dark spiked hair and a goatee just along the bottom of his chin, much like the way Alex was wearing his. The man started to chuckle at the events that occurred.
Voice: “Relax, children. I am impressed with your display. Young Mister Speede, the move you just used from that top rope, it is one of the moves I mastered in my days in wrestling. I will show you how it is done and developed, and train you. You have great potential.”
Roy Speede: “Thank you, sensei. I shall not let you down, siensei.”
Sensei: “As for the others, I shall train you as well, but I sense a great deal of potential in you, Mister Speede. Now let your training begin.”
The scene fades out as the sensei begins the training session with the youngsters, starting with teaching a basic roundhouse kick, or so it appears. The present day shot of that wooden door remains, although Roy is nowhere to be seen. The door, however, is drifting shut, and the cameraman catches it, and strolls inside, shifting from side to side all around the room for Roy Speede. Inside, however, Roy isn’t really noticeable right away; what is noticeable is a dodgeball game going on in the middle of the gymnasium the shot just entered; five men in orange shirts to the left, six men in green shirts to the right, all playing dodgeball. As the door closes behind the camera, the game comes to a halt almost immediately, everyone looking over toward the camera for a moment before the game resumes. The shot turns, and finds Roy Speede sitting on a metal bench about halfway up the stack of bleachers.
Roy Speede: “What? Are you accusing me of wussing out because I ain’t out there right now playing? Well I ain’t; I’m strategizing, which is what each and every one of my opponents should be doing as well. This match is all about strategy, and I don’t care who you are, if you are in the wrong place at the wrong time, you will not walk out of this match with a title belt. If you prepare the right strategy, anything is possible, even for someone as miserable as ol’ Jay Price.
Now I’m not saying he’s going to be winning, or anything of that sort, but if the guy’s smart enough to stay out of the damned ring, it’s possible. Not probable, not likely, not even something most of these guys would anticipate, mind you, but possible nonetheless. The guy keeps reminding me of a certain ‘I Quit’ match with Gravedigger and Brad Kane a while back, but from that reminder comes an even bigger revelation: By the time I’m done with him this Monday, Jay Price will be screaming “I RETIRE!!!” , his jaws screaming out in pain from the merciless beating I’m going to give that guy. You may be a confident S.O.B. Price, but just look, I ooze confidence, my mouth flows with those confident, perhaps even arrogant words day in and day out, and all I hear from you is whining and moaning about how you lost your beloved WAR Match back in 2009. “Oh look at me, I’m arrogant. I’m gonna win this.” You sound like fuckin’ Charlie Sheen, only you, my friend, aren’t going to be doing any winning.
You know what, Price? I’m getting sick and tired of your mouth. And you screaming about how you love feces more than Jason Kash isn’t gonna help; neither is complaining about the lack of a World Title Belt around your waist. But you know what I haven’t heard out of you? I haven’t heard any of the god damned smarts that you seem to be proclaiming you have. Yeah, I may have spoken those two words against Gravedigger, but I fought one hell of a match, and I’m still proud that I went toe-to-toe with two WCF Hall-of-Famers. Sound familiar, Price? It should; you were the one talking arrogant about standing tall against Logan and Slickie T with no fear, and about being proud of yourself afterwards. I did the same exact fucking thing. And you know what? I could honestly not care less about your accomplishments. They mean nothing to me.
Another thing that I don’t care about at all, Price, are the words you preach to the fans; say what you want about expecting to win, but we all know the truth, Price. We all know it is I who is going to walk out of this match the victor. You may be able to get second place if you’re lucky, Price, but there is no way I’m going to let a worthless sack of crap like you beat me. This is my time to shine, not yours!”
Roy gets up, and walks down the stair-like seats of the bleachers, onto the main gym floor. He steps into the brand new game, joining his orange-shirted teammates. As the game starts, he dodges an initial flurry of playground balls hurled at him, and laughs.
Roy Speede: “You see, much like this Ultimate Showdown main event, dodgeball is all about strategy. You can’t just go running into the match blindly, firing at everyone who just so happens to cross your path, hoping you don’t screw up. And you know who doesn’t seem to do well when trying to strategize? The ones who don’t do well trying to formulate a plan and stick to it are Oblivion and Odin Balfore. Those two always go full-force into an onslaught, not giving a damn who they hurt when they step into the ring; while that may be effective for them sometimes, in this main event, those two need to develop a plan so they can actually have a chance at winning. A plan that doesn’t involve blindly hurling themselves around the ring looking to hurt anything that moves like ogres. And no, guys, I don’t mean you should turn into Shrek; I mean an actual beast of a being, like Shaquille O’Neal. Someone that has size, but knows how to use it; that’s what you should be looking for.”
As the game starts to heat up, Roy starts paying more and more attention. His teammates are falling, and they’re down six players to three. He continues dodging the shots, firing a few of his own here and there, and continues to speak, occasionally pausing to make a quick dodge.
Roy Speede: “The first of those two men, Oblivion, is still somewhat of a mystery to me. Stephan Johnson, as he is known by some, is just plain bizarre. He may be a deadly force, but there will not be a Roy Speede defeat in this match; I’m going to shut this veteran up once and for all. Talk about being a youth has been something that I’m proud of, because while he’s a veteran passing over his prime, I’m still approaching mine, and when I hit my prime, I’ll be better than he ever was, and ever will be. Heck, I think I’m at that point now, to be honest, what with all these mind-games he’s trying to play. Shoot, I think the Super Bowl had me worrying about the outcome of an important showdown more than Oblivion does.
And then we have Odin Balfore... This guy is just begging for an ass-kicking. For someone that only fears himself, he sure seems a bit tense about this match, and he sure seems a bit shaky about this match. Take his joke about me being the offspring of Jay Price. One, Price and I aren’t even related, two, it was never announced the possibility that Price and I were father and son, but uncle and nephew, and three, I wouldn’t be caught dead supporting Jay Price. Anywhere. He’s right about one thing, Odin is a pathetic excuse; a pathetic excuse for a wrestler; a pathetic excuse for a man; a pathetic excuse for a waste of matter. He doesn’t know whether to face me or fear me, from the looks of things; he talked about how I’m the most adapted to the tag style of the match, and he talked about how I’m right, and he’s old as dirt, yet he still refuses to believe that I’m going to defeat him this Monday, and he still refuses to so much as come up with something original to say about me. He’s a disgrace to that United States title belt, a disgrace to the Wrestling Championship Federation... hell, he’s even a disgrace to his raccoon boyfriend. He’s got no chance to win this match, and he knows it. He needs to just step out of the way and let the real fighters do their fighting.”
Roy’s last teammate gets hit with a shot to the leg, leaving Speede alone in the match against six players on the green team. He looks over at the camera, and speaks.
Roy Speede: “Now isn’t this appropriate? Six guys against me. Just like how there will be six guys gunning for me this Monday. This is where the strategy comes into play.”
He grabs two of those kickballs , playground balls, whatever you want to call them off the ground by his feet, and draws back, before firing one into the midst of the six. One falls to the ground after being hit by a shot in the gut. He grabs a third round of ammo, and tosses it straight up into the air. At that point, he draws back, and fires the other ball, hitting another of his opponents.
Roy Speede: “First things first, narrow down the competition with some easy mind-tricks, and figure out who the real competition is.”
As one of the remaining green team players grabs a playground ball, Roy sidesteps, letting the one he’d tossed in the air bounce on the ground; the player throws the shot, and Roy catches it at his chest, making his opponent the one eliminated.
Roy Speede: “When things are getting rough, a quick reversal or two can put you right back in the thick of it.”
He rolls one of the two playground balls from his side across the center line slowly, and one of the players runs up to get it. He uses the other one to eliminate him with a sharp shot to the back of the guy’s head.
Roy Speede: “And when your opponents make a rookie mistake, don’t be afraid to capitalize. Setting them up for a difficult decision can be good, too.”
As the two remaining players on the green team grab the ammo, they fire all three playground balls at him simultaneously; Roy hits the ground on his stomach to dodge, and stands back up, grabbing all three, ready to put the game away.
Roy Speede: “When the time comes for things to come to an end, don’t be afraid to finish the match off with a bang!”
He fires all three in rapid succession, the first pelting one opponent in the chest, the second pelting the other in the stomach, and the third hitting the second one in the face, eliminating both. Roy turns around and is congratulated by his teammates. One of them in particular takes him aside and sits down next to him on the bottom bench of the bleachers; it’s Alex Haden, Roy’s cousin.
Roy Speede: “Hey, Alex! Good game, man!”
Alex Haden: “Me good game? You dominated out there!”
Roy Speede: “That? That was nothing. Wait until Monday!”
Alex Haden: “Well you’ve got five opponents gunning for you Monday. Tell me something, man; what was that you were saying earlier, before and during the match?”
Roy Speede: “I was just highlighting the reasons Jay Price, Oblivion, and Odin Balfore will not beat me. While talking about their butts was fun, I’ve still got three more people on my mind that I have something I’d like to say to.”
Alex Haden: “Go ahead, bro, I’m just here to listen.”
Roy Speede: “Well, first there’s Kaylyn James Evans. The quote-unquote Perfect Ten has been driving me nuts lately, with all her mumbo-jumbo about Aubrey, about how she has supposedly been getting by without Creeping Death’s help... We all know he’s helping her, but from what standpoint may be a matter of opinion. So she says he’s pushing her harder; big whoop. That isn’t helping her. He’s making it easier on her, keeping an eye on her from ringside each and every match. That’s something that’s bound to make things easier on her, having a body guard for when things go wrong. Well I’ve come to a bit of a realization. While she has Creeping Death on her side, who would more than likely fire anyone she asked him to, she herself cannot do a damned thing. That leads me to believe, however, that since she supposedly doesn’t want Creeping Death’s help, she won’t be able to do a damned thing when I destroy her on Monday. She thinks I’m using Aubrey for attention, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I love Aubrey, and I’ll do anything for her. Unlike how Creeping Death doesn’t help Kaylyn at all, apparently, I will always be there when Aubrey needs me. I’m a damned good boyfriend, if I do say so myself, and if I’m wanted there, I’ll be there for Aubrey until the end of time.
She’s a flirt, dude. A hopeless flirt. Odin sees through her little ruse, and so do I, and that may be the one thing that keeps me from destroying Odin right away; I want to destroy Kaylyn first. Get her little sorry ass out of that ring before she starts being her bitchy self again. If anything, her words are more annoying than her pathetic excuse for a wrestling ability... Sure, we were at one point friendly toward one another. She almost had me in her little trap; she almost had me wrapped around her finger like she does Steve Thunder, like she does Creeping Death... I could’ve been another loser like them, but instead she started abusing Aubrey, and that got me to see through her ruse. So in a way, she brought my hatred for her upon herself. And now she has brought a merciless beating at the hands of Roy Speede upon herself. And that’s all that needs to be said; I’m going to hurt her.
Then, there’s the man I’ve already said all that needs to be said about, Donald Deruty. I respect Mr. Deruty more than I’ve respected any World Champ in the company’s history, and Mr. Deruty is, on all honesty, one of, if not the best wrestler in the world today. But every great wrestler has their off nights, dude, and this Monday is going to be his off night. I’m going to go into that ring, and when I step out of that ring, I’ll be hoisting the World Championship. He doesn’t seem to be able to get it through his head that I’m in a stronger state of mind than even him. He’s too worried about another competitor that isn’t even scheduled for a World Title match this evening cashing in his World Title shot from the WCF Classic, when in reality that may not even happen. While I’ve got Aubrey on my mind all day, I know she wants me focused on my match, so I let those worries go so that I can keep the promise I made her, and win that World Heavyweight Championship.
If Baines cashes in his World Title Shot, let him. I’m going to make sure I still walk out the World Champ, bro, and D-Day can worry all he wants to about Phillip Baines, but I could literally not care less about Phillip Baines right now. Let him wait in the wings watching for that moment to strike when a winner is crowned. I’ll take that World Heavyweight Championship belt, smash is across his skull, plant him with the Speede of Light, and walk back up that ramp with my first title defense already a success. He’s still got a Hardcore Championship defense against Ryan Blake to worry about, too, man, and if Ryan Blake is successful, Phillip Baines won’t be in any condition to cash in that World Title anyway, you know? Not to mention his honestly insufficient words against me. Sure, I’m young. Who hasn’t already said that? Huh? I’m going to go into Ultimate Showdown and shut him up once and for all. In case he wasn’t paying attention, I carried the team of Mr. FPV and Roy Speede to the Tag Team Titles, and I’ll carry the Speede fanbase to its first World Championship ever. He bets his paycheck I won’t finish in the top three? Well he’d better start signing that slip of paper for that big lump sum of money now, because there’s no way I walk out of this Pay-Per-View without a singles championship over my shoulder. I already know Oblivion and Jay Price and Odin and Kaylyn aren’t walking out of there with the World Title; it’s either me or Deruty, and I’m putting my money on one Roy Speede. Let him talk all he fuckin’ wants. When the time comes, he won’t have the testicular fortitude to put his money where his mouth is, and at the end of the night, I’ll be that World Heavyweight Champion.”
Alex gives Roy a pat on the back, and shakes his hand.
Alex Haden: “Good luck man; I know you’ll do great. Call me after the show and let me know how it goes, a’ite?”
Roy Speede: “A’ite man. I’ll see you later. I’m going to be flying back to Pennsylvania tonight, and then we’ll see where things really stand. Later bro.”
Roy and Alex get up from the bleachers, and the two cousins share a hug. Roy walks over toward the door, and waves as he steps outside, the scene fading to black.
