A Cleansing Force (Slam RP#2)

[Deleted]

{{The seats inside of TD Garden in Boston are quickly filling as the start of Monday Night Slam draws ever nearer. Roughly half of the seats in the arena have been filled by passionate WCF fans, many of whom are sporting T-shirts featuring the names and likenesses of their favorite superstars and holding homemade signs, which don't get seized at WCF shows the way that they do by security at certain rival "sports entertainment" shows. The ring has already been set up in the center of the arena, surrounded by fans on all four sides, just waiting for the action to hit. Sure it's an inanimate object, but that ring knows its role and you can't pretend that it doesn't get excited by the prospect of having burly men and sexy chicas throwing each other around inside of it.

Deep inside the bowels of TD Garden, WCF Hardcore Champion Phillip Baines is warming up in his locker room, alone. Baines is seated on the carpeted floor and performing stretches on his calves and thighs to make sure that he's loose and limber for his tag team match later tonight. Baines is wearing his full ring gear, including his Technicolor wrestling singlet and silver moon boots. His long black hair is tied back into a ponytail that would make RVD proud. A few feet behind Baines is an open, hardwood-paneled locker, the contents of which are clearly visible.

Sitting most prominently upon the shelf in the locker is Baines's cherished Hardcore Championship belt. Next to the belt are several bottles of "vitamins and supplements", a generously proportioned bag of marijuana (which no doubt would also make RVD proud and more than a little jealous) and a bottle of shampoo/conditioner to nourish Baines's trademark locks. Below the shelf, on the bottom compartment of the locker, are a back-up pair of silver moon boots. You know, just in case something happens to Phil's main pair.

Phil completes his repetition of warm-up stretches and rises to his feet. He grabs a bottle of blue Gatorade from the mini-fridge in his locker room and takes a seat on a leather reclining chair. These minor luxuries are not overly opulent but they are afforded to a man like Baines who has accomplished a few things in his career, even if he is not the most popular man with management these days.

Baines kicks back in his recliner and takes a sip of his Gatorade. He allows the electrolytes to recharge his body while the tasty fruit flavor of the cold blue liquid quenches his thirst. Baines caps the bottle and places it down on the table next to his chair. Baines looks up at the clock on the wall. It's not showtime yet, not for a right while, but Baines knows that there is business to which he must attend before the show even begins. Baines does some light, Dean Malenko-style wrist exercises to further loosen up while he waits for the knock on his door. A few minutes pass before...}}

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK

{{A familiar voice calls out from outside the closed locker room door.}}

Bobby Cairo: "Phil, it's interview time! Are you ready?"

{{Phil nods his head. He's nodding to himself since no one else is in the locker room.}}

Phillip Baines: "Let's do this work."

{{Baines has a look of focus on his face as he cracks his knuckles in a calamitous unison and rises to his feet. He grabs his title belt from his locker and walks out of the room, joining Bobby in the hallway outside. Bobby is immaculately dressed in a dark blue suit and black Italian leather loafers, with his black hair slicked back like Pat Riley. Bobby acknowledges Phil with a smile and a pat on the shoulder.}}

Bobby: "How do you feel, Philly boy?"

Phil: "I feel good. I feel strong. I'm confident about the match tonight. You and I put in a lot of work in training this week and I know that it's going to pay off. Sure I'm not training with Blake, but he does his thing and I do mine. That's cool. Why fix what isn't broken? We're both champions--"

{{Phil slaps the shiny gold face-plate of the title belt that rests upon his shoulder to emphasize his point.}}

Phil: "And there's a reason for that."

Bobby: "You're a couple of stone cold killers, that's the reason!"

{{Phil and Bobby smile and tap bro-fists.}}

Phil: "You're damn right, Roberto."

{{Phil nods his head in the affirmative.}}

Phil: "You are damn right about that, homie."

{{Cairo and Baines continue their pep talk as they confidently stride along the corridor as grown men do. After a few minutes they arrive in an interview spot that has been set up in the backstage area of the arena, located roughly half a football field away from the entrance ramp that leads the superstars and their managers down to the ring and thousands upon thousands of screaming fans. Though showtime has not yet arrived, there is a murmuring in the air among those fans that have already arrived. Baines smiles and nods his head a few times, as if soaking in the energy of those fans.}}

Phil: "Those are my people out there, Bobby. I'm as anti-Boston as anyone. New York Yankees for life!"

{{Bobby nods his head in agreement.}}

Phil: "But those are my people out there, man."

{{Phil and Bobby arrive at where Hank is set-up, looking as if he's ready to start his interview with the Hardcore Champion. The three of them take some time to exchange pleasantries and make small talk before the interview begins.}}

Bobby: "I know that might be a turn-off to some people, but honestly it was the best grape juice that I've ever had!"

{{Bobby, Phil and Hank join together in uproarious laughter. Hank wipes a tear from his eye.}}

Hank Brown: "That is wild, wild stuff! Good lord..."

{{Hank shakes his head, a big smile on his face all the while. Then he looks down and checks the time on his watch.}}

Hank: "Ooh, we really should get started, Phil."

Bobby: "You guys have fun. I'll be hanging out with the wifey and her BFF."

{{Bobby rolls his eyes then flashes a sly smile.}}

Phil: "You mean your wifey and my future wifey?"

{{Hank's eyes light up.}}

Hank: "You and Gina are getting married, Phil? Is that a scoop for the Hankster?"

Phil: "Nothing's official, Hank, but Gina and I have talked about it and lately I've been thinking about asking her... The Question. Can you keep that one under your hat until the time is right?"

Hank: "No problem, Phil. You can count on me. You've given me plenty of scoops in the past and the Ol' Hankster never bites the hand that feeds."

Bobby: "Good man, Hank. Alright, I'm off!"

{{Bobby waves to Hank and Phil and then struts away Travolta-style. Hank signals for his trusty cameraman to set up his shot and the cameraman complies. Hank and Phil take their position in front of a large backdrop with the Monday Night Slam logo prominently displayed. Hank, with microphone in hand, signals for the cameraman to begin rolling film. In an instant the red light on the camera is turned on and the interview is officially underway.}}

Hank: "Hey there, WCF Universe! This is your old buddy Hank Brown and I'm here with the reigning WCF Hardcore Champion Phillip Baines!"

{{Phil snorts a greeting to the viewing audience while adjusting the title belt on his shoulder.}}

Hank: "Phil, you will be teaming with your new stablemate Ryan Blake to challenge Oblivion and Doc Henry on tonight's Slam broadcast, but before we talk about that match let's talk about the events that led the four of you to this point. The entire world was shocked last week to see you, Blake and Odin Balfore standing united at the abrupt conclusion of the ill-fated Three-Way Title Unification Bout on Slam. First of all, why did you decide to join forces with Odin and Blake?"

Phil: "That should be fairly obvious, Hank, but for those who don't understand it I will explain. You see, I've said it before and I'll say it again: Odin Balfore is a force to be reckoned with. This man isn't just a stereotypical World Champion who wins the belt, holds it for awhile and then drops it to the next guy in line. He's not D-Day."

{{Baines flashes a smug smirk. You can tell that he really enjoyed getting in that dig at his rival.}}

Phil: "Odin Balfore is reshaping the very culture of WCF. He didn't need to be World Champion in order to do that, but holding that belt certainly forces everyone to pay attention to him, to stand up and take notice whether they want to or not. I wanted to be part of the change that Odin has brought to WCF, the change that is sweeping this company like a political revolution among a disillusioned populace. Will WCF be destroyed by our newly formed alliance? Yes, it will."

{{An uneasy look comes across Hank's face and he takes a hard gulp while holding the mic up for Baines to speak into.}}

Phil: "The WCF that you have grown accustomed to will be destroyed. It has to be destroyed in order to preserve the true greatness that this company previously represented. Think about it, Hank: What is the biggest reason why the US government has a fourteen-trillion dollar federal debt?"

{{Hank appears perplexed by Phil's question.}}

Hank: "I'm sorry, what does that have to do with WCF?"

Phil: "I'm making a point here, Hank. The answer to the question is entitlements. That's the reason why our government continues to spend beyond all reason, borrowing so that it can pad the debt even higher until we're all crushed under its bloated weight. Here's another question: What is the biggest reason why the WCF locker room is filled with self-obsessed pansies who couldn't carry a wrestling company on their backs if their very livelihoods depended on it?"

{{Hank hesitates a moment before answering.}}

Hank: "Uh... entitlements?"

Phil: "Bingo, Hank. Now you're getting it. Look at D-Day. He thought it was his time to shine, and for what reason? Because he put in the hard work and was willing to sacrifice the very essence of his being to protect his World Championship? No, no, no. He thought it was his time to shine simply because he's D-Day and everyone was telling him how great he was, building up his ego. Hell, the bottom fell out of that shit quicker than the stock market fell after the jobs report and the S&P downgrade. How great was D-Day after Ragnarök shattered his back, his neck and his confidence? Not so fucking great!"

{{Phil taps the gold face-place of the Hardcore Championship belt with his fist for added emphasize after each word. Hank sighs and his face goes long.}}

Hank: "Well... we'll have to edit that for language. Some people have criticized you and Odin for teaming together. After all he is the World Champion and you are the perennial top contender for that belt for as long as you have your automatic title shot that you won in the Classic. Allegations of cowardice have been leveled at both Odin and yourself. How do you respond to that?"

Phil: "That's absurd, Hank. I fear no man. Odin Balfore fears even fewer men than that. As I just explained, we're putting together a movement that is bigger than any World Championship. We're cleansing the very soul of WCF by castigating those who seek to exacerbate the culture of weakness and entitlement that has pervaded this company for far too long. We shouldn't be criticized for that. We shouldn't have smears hurled at us. We should be thanked by all who truly care for WCF and wish to see it thrive once again."

Hank: "It sounds like you're confident that you, Odin and Blake are doing the right thing, but I cannot imagine that your boss and mine, Creeping Death, was pleased with your group's actions last week. After all you prevented the US, TV and Hardcore Championship belts from being unified, which is something that CD was absolutely counting on. I think the fans were looking forward to it too, considering the ratings for last week's main event."

Phil: "What we did might make us unpopular in certain quarters, Hank, but Blake and I were simply doing what Donald Deruty didn't have the balls to do: We were protecting OUR property!"

{{Phil caresses the title belt that sits on his shoulder with his hands as if it's his girlfriend's generous bosom.}}

Phil: "CD can pout if he wants to, but if he wants my Hardcore Championship or Ryan Blake's Television Championship then he will have to come and pry them from our cold, dead hands! Do you understand me, Creeping Asshole? This belt is not a toy. This belt is not a prop for you to dismiss on a whim. This belt represents my blood, sweat and tears. I have literally sacrificed years from my life expectancy to keep this belt in my possession. You are not taking it from me. I don't give a damn about your Unified Triple Crown Championship. That's a fake belt just like Doc Henry's Confederate Championship is a fake belt!"

Hank: "That brings me to my next question, Phil. You and Blake will be making your debut as tag team partners tonight against the duo of--"

Phil: "That's not true, Hank. Ryan and I teamed together against D-Day last week! Hahahahaha!"

{{Baines cackles manically as Hank just stands there and stares at him.}}

Hank: "Be that as it may, tonight is your official debut as a team and you will be competing against the team of Doc Henry and Oblivion, or the "Gods of Wrestling" as they are now known."

Phil: "You mean as they are now calling themselves? There's nothing divine about those two clowns."

Hank: "But, Phil, they terrorized the roster last week on Slam. They even interrupted your post-match celebration with Odin and Blake after the main event."

Phil: "And that's supposed to do what? Instill fear of false gods into me? Let's see them try that against me and Blake tonight when we know that they're coming, Hank. Let's see how godly they are when they're lying flat on their backs in pain, defeat and humiliation at the end of the match just like they've been doing for months. You can stuff horseshit into a tin can and slap a label on it that says gourmet feast, but at the end of the day that horseshit is still horseshit regardless of what the label says. Oblivion and Doc Henry? They're horseshit."

Hank: "Both men have held multiple championships in WCF, Phil. Both are former Tag Team Champions, albeit not together. Oblivion is a former World Champion."

Phil: "If they're so great then what happened to them, Hank? How come they've gone from being champions to being doormats and stepping stones? Doc is a former Tag Champion. A former TV Champion. He even held the US Championship for a brief spell before he ran into Ana Valentine and Ana fucked up his career. Doc is one of these entitled cats that I was talking about. He believes that it's his birthright to be a champion like so many others in WCF. Doc had a problem though. After having some success earlier in his career, Doc had to come to grips with reality: He was no longer good enough to compete at a championship level in WCF. He could not earn a belt through conventional means. His remedy? He bought a belt."

{{Phil hangs his head in shame and lets out a sigh.}}

Phil: "I guess that's the Devil for you, Hank. Always trying to deceive people. Much like the Devil and much like Doc's fictitious title belt, Doc's entire persona is a load of bull. He's tough like a cheap piece of steak is tough, but soon enough you spit that shitty steak out and toss it into the trash where it belongs. That's what I'll be doing to Doc tonight. Taking out some stanky old trash that's been polluting the WCF locker room for far too long."

Hank: "What about Doc's partner, Oblivion?"

Phil: "What about him, Hank? I've thrashed Oblivion more times than I can even remember. Why would tonight be any different? HOW could it be any different?"

Hank: "Oblivion claims that you've been lucky against him in the past, and that your luck is going to run out tonight."

Phil: "Of course he did, Hank. What else is he going to say? Phil Baines is my daddy? Please, Phil, stop hurting me! I beg of you! I'll suck you off! Of course he's going to utter the same old regurgitated rhetoric that losers have been spouting for decades. Think about this, Hank: Was it luck that allowed me to clobber Oblivion's body with implements of destruction time and time again? Was it luck that allowed me to pin his shoulders to the mat for the three-count in match after match?"

{{Phil shakes his head in the negatory.}}

Phil: "Of course it wasn't, Hank. The beautiful thing about competing, especially in the hardcore environment, is that luck does not factor into the outcomes of the matches. The only way to win is by beating your opponent until they are so thoroughly incapacitated that they cannot continue fighting. That's a beautiful concept. It eliminates luck, chance, flukes and randomness from the equation. There's something else to think about, Hank: What are the odds that I would get lucky two-hundred and seventy-three times in a row?"

Hank: "Come on now, Phil. You haven't beaten Oblivion THAT many times."

Phil: "Haven't I though, Hank? But haven't I? With that kind of luck I should head on over to Vegas or buy a Powerball ticket, but of course I don't need to rely upon luck. I have earned everything that I have attained in life with hard work and perseverance. I don't need luck. I don't need entitlements. I EARN my keep. Tonight, Oblivion and Doc Henry will receive what they have earned: An EPIC ass-whooping courtesy of yours truly and "The Hero" Ryan Blake. Now if you'll excuse me, Hank, I have a match to prepare for."

{{Hank nods his head as he pulls the mic away from Baines. Baines just stands there glaring into the camera with his prized Hardcore Title belt still resting upon his broad shoulder.}}

Hank: "The Hardcore Champion... is ready for action!"

{{Hank gives the cut signal to the cameraman and the red light on the camera shuts off. Hank turns to Phil and extends his hand. Phil returns the gesture and they shake.}}

Hank: "Great interview, Phil!"

Phil: "Thanks, Hank. I had a lot on my mind this week. Between you and me, when the Ragnarök Revolution has strangled the last breaths of life from WCF's rotting and mangled body, you're going to have a job under the new administration."

{{Phil winks at Hank and walks away. Hank just stands there with a hopeful yet dopey expression on his face. The scene fades.}}