Post by Bret Hart on Jun 25, 2020 4:50:06 GMT -5
The camera settles on an external shot of a small apartment, nothing of note stands out other than the fact that the exterior doesn't seem to have been maintained for roughly 5 years. The birds chirp loudly as the morning sun shines, lighting up the various pieces of trash littered on the ground surrounding the door.
Cameron, North Carolina
4:47am
A cut to the slightly ajar door allows the camera to steadily move into the building, more trash lays strewn - almost completely obscuring the floor of the small entranceway and hall leading past the kitchen and to what we can assume is the living room.
No furniture sits in the room, no TV, no couch - only a small, stained blanket lays spread across the floor. It now becomes apparent that not only trash fills the apartment, but also a large amount of empty vodka bottles and used needles.
?
I...Was a god...
A strange, raspy voice cuts through the peculiar silence. The voice little more than a whisper, yet faintly familiar despite how laboured it is.
?
N-N-No, I-I was no god...
?
You were successful.
Another voice appears, however this voice does not sound entirely dissimilar to the original.
A scan across the room sees the figure of a man from behind, sat in the corner of the dank room, his clothes torn and dirty; his long hair sits matted and greasy on his shoulders, bald patches have formed where clumps appear to have been forcefully ripped from his scalp.
?
I-I was a king. A-An Antichrist.
?
You were a champion! A winner!
It quickly becomes apparent that rather than being two people having a conversation, this hermit in the corner is in fact speaking to himself - changing his voice as if to simulate conversation with another.
The man steadily gets to his feet, having to keep himself standing with the aid of a hand leant on the walls of the small room. He treads lightly towards the door as to not stand on any of the broken bottles or used needles that litter the piss-stained carpet of his run-down abode.
?
Now look at you... a reeking mess. A waste of a human life! Sitting in your own filth!
As he nears the door and pulls it closed, the figure is revealed to be none other than an aged Jeff Hardy! Albeit worse for wear, with the aforementioned disgusting hair and a much leaner, almost skeletal face. His eyes bloodshot and his skin pale and sagging. He slowly leans down and picks up an old, almost rotten chair before standing it upright just behind the door.
Jeff Hardy
W-What can I do? H-How do I f-f-fix this?
Nero
The only way to attain perfection, to regain our power, is to start anew.
Hardy looks up toward the top of the door. Hanging from a curtain pole is a fairly thick length of rope, one end attached securely to the fixture and the other carefully wrapped into a loop. A noose.
Nero
Like a phoenix, we shall end this pitiful existence and arise from the ashes... Not as the Enigma, not as an Antichrist... But as something... More.
Hardy gently climbs the chair, wobbling a little as it takes his weight. He takes another glance at the rope and softly takes it in his hand. Pulling it down and around his neck, making sure to tighten it.
Jeff Hardy
I...I don't want to die. What about Matt? What about little Max?
Nero
Do it. For once in your meaningless existence, do the right thing. Remove this useless vessel from this world so we can fulfil our destiny! Here... I have something that will make it easier.
Hardy removes a small plastic bag from his pocket, he opens the bag steadily, places a finger inside and scoops out a small amount of white powder before holding it to his nose.
Jeff Hardy
I-I don't want this... Think of all the good I've done! Think of all the children that looked up to me! I had thousands of fans that loved me!
Nero
Listen t-
Jeff Hardy
No! You listen to me! I am Jeff Nero Hardy! The charismatic enigma!
Jeff throws the baggy on the floor and wipes away the powder from his finger. A fire that he hadn't felt in a long time began burning in his heart once more! His eyes seem to light up with his new-found will to live!
Jeff Hardy
I've let you control me for too long! I let you into my life five long years ago because I was selfish and couldn't live without a championship! Nero, I AM Jeff Hardy! I don't need you anymore, I don't need to be the Antichrist - I am THE Charismatic Enigma and I can pull myself through anything I set my mind to. I am strong, I am fierce and I'm going to get back in the gym, I'm going to get clean and I'm going to be a Winn-
Suddenly the door flies open! It swings hard into Hardy, knocking him from his rickety support! Hardy falls suddenly mid-speech, the noose breaks his fall and his neck. Hardy dies instantly.
?
Bro they didn't have any blue Slurpee so I got you the red one, that cool?
A man bursts into the room, a slurpee in each hand and a bag of snacks hanging from his wrist. He sets the food and drink down on the floor and stretches before pulling out a small baggy from his parka pocket and taking a bump of the encapsulated cocaine.
?
The queue was fuckin' mad Bro, saw some tight snatch in the 7/11 though bro. Saw a flyer for some gay-ass wrestling shit up in Alberta too - didn't you do that shit? What a fuckin' pussy MAH-GUH-NET!
He opens a pack of chips and eats a couple.
?
I don't even care if they're doggin' bro, all's fair in love and war, and you know how Mag Aluf likes to commit war crimes on T'N'A - It's all about the Tits n' Ass in the book of Aluf, dog!
Mag Aluf finally turns around after not getting a response. Only now seeing his drug-addled roommate's corpse hanging. Blood steadily streaming from his nose onto the stained carpet.
Mag Aluf
Yo what the FUCK, Bro? Killing yourself is pretty gay dog, I'm out.
He grabs the aforementioned flyer and hastily stuffs it into his pocket, as well as the snacks and a Slurpee before making his way past Jeff Hardy's corpse and out of the room. He places a hand on the handle of the door next to Hardy and turns to directly stare into the camera.
Mag Aluf
Mag's got some Vag to attend to... Some Canadian Bacon is about to get porked.
He closes the door on the camera, leaving it on a shot of Hardy's body, before fading to black.
The fade back in is slow, to show a totally darkened Toyota Center, with a spotlight only on what’s inside the ring: an aisle with a large painted portrait of Jeffrey Nero Hardy, our dearly departed.
DING!
DING!
DING!
DING!
DING!
DING!
DING!
DING!
DING!
DING!
Lasting shot of the portrait. Fade out.
Fade into the words:
FOREVER IN OUR HEARTS
JEFFREY NERO HARDY
1977-2020
Fade out.
Fade into our cold open for the evening.
Revelation 6:1-2
Cameron, North Carolina
4:47am
A cut to the slightly ajar door allows the camera to steadily move into the building, more trash lays strewn - almost completely obscuring the floor of the small entranceway and hall leading past the kitchen and to what we can assume is the living room.
No furniture sits in the room, no TV, no couch - only a small, stained blanket lays spread across the floor. It now becomes apparent that not only trash fills the apartment, but also a large amount of empty vodka bottles and used needles.
?
I...Was a god...
A strange, raspy voice cuts through the peculiar silence. The voice little more than a whisper, yet faintly familiar despite how laboured it is.
?
N-N-No, I-I was no god...
?
You were successful.
Another voice appears, however this voice does not sound entirely dissimilar to the original.
A scan across the room sees the figure of a man from behind, sat in the corner of the dank room, his clothes torn and dirty; his long hair sits matted and greasy on his shoulders, bald patches have formed where clumps appear to have been forcefully ripped from his scalp.
?
I-I was a king. A-An Antichrist.
?
You were a champion! A winner!
It quickly becomes apparent that rather than being two people having a conversation, this hermit in the corner is in fact speaking to himself - changing his voice as if to simulate conversation with another.
The man steadily gets to his feet, having to keep himself standing with the aid of a hand leant on the walls of the small room. He treads lightly towards the door as to not stand on any of the broken bottles or used needles that litter the piss-stained carpet of his run-down abode.
?
Now look at you... a reeking mess. A waste of a human life! Sitting in your own filth!
As he nears the door and pulls it closed, the figure is revealed to be none other than an aged Jeff Hardy! Albeit worse for wear, with the aforementioned disgusting hair and a much leaner, almost skeletal face. His eyes bloodshot and his skin pale and sagging. He slowly leans down and picks up an old, almost rotten chair before standing it upright just behind the door.
Jeff Hardy
W-What can I do? H-How do I f-f-fix this?
Nero
The only way to attain perfection, to regain our power, is to start anew.
Hardy looks up toward the top of the door. Hanging from a curtain pole is a fairly thick length of rope, one end attached securely to the fixture and the other carefully wrapped into a loop. A noose.
Nero
Like a phoenix, we shall end this pitiful existence and arise from the ashes... Not as the Enigma, not as an Antichrist... But as something... More.
Hardy gently climbs the chair, wobbling a little as it takes his weight. He takes another glance at the rope and softly takes it in his hand. Pulling it down and around his neck, making sure to tighten it.
Jeff Hardy
I...I don't want to die. What about Matt? What about little Max?
Nero
Do it. For once in your meaningless existence, do the right thing. Remove this useless vessel from this world so we can fulfil our destiny! Here... I have something that will make it easier.
Hardy removes a small plastic bag from his pocket, he opens the bag steadily, places a finger inside and scoops out a small amount of white powder before holding it to his nose.
Jeff Hardy
I-I don't want this... Think of all the good I've done! Think of all the children that looked up to me! I had thousands of fans that loved me!
Nero
Listen t-
Jeff Hardy
No! You listen to me! I am Jeff Nero Hardy! The charismatic enigma!
Jeff throws the baggy on the floor and wipes away the powder from his finger. A fire that he hadn't felt in a long time began burning in his heart once more! His eyes seem to light up with his new-found will to live!
Jeff Hardy
I've let you control me for too long! I let you into my life five long years ago because I was selfish and couldn't live without a championship! Nero, I AM Jeff Hardy! I don't need you anymore, I don't need to be the Antichrist - I am THE Charismatic Enigma and I can pull myself through anything I set my mind to. I am strong, I am fierce and I'm going to get back in the gym, I'm going to get clean and I'm going to be a Winn-
Suddenly the door flies open! It swings hard into Hardy, knocking him from his rickety support! Hardy falls suddenly mid-speech, the noose breaks his fall and his neck. Hardy dies instantly.
?
Bro they didn't have any blue Slurpee so I got you the red one, that cool?
A man bursts into the room, a slurpee in each hand and a bag of snacks hanging from his wrist. He sets the food and drink down on the floor and stretches before pulling out a small baggy from his parka pocket and taking a bump of the encapsulated cocaine.
?
The queue was fuckin' mad Bro, saw some tight snatch in the 7/11 though bro. Saw a flyer for some gay-ass wrestling shit up in Alberta too - didn't you do that shit? What a fuckin' pussy MAH-GUH-NET!
He opens a pack of chips and eats a couple.
?
I don't even care if they're doggin' bro, all's fair in love and war, and you know how Mag Aluf likes to commit war crimes on T'N'A - It's all about the Tits n' Ass in the book of Aluf, dog!
Mag Aluf finally turns around after not getting a response. Only now seeing his drug-addled roommate's corpse hanging. Blood steadily streaming from his nose onto the stained carpet.
Mag Aluf
Yo what the FUCK, Bro? Killing yourself is pretty gay dog, I'm out.
He grabs the aforementioned flyer and hastily stuffs it into his pocket, as well as the snacks and a Slurpee before making his way past Jeff Hardy's corpse and out of the room. He places a hand on the handle of the door next to Hardy and turns to directly stare into the camera.
Mag Aluf
Mag's got some Vag to attend to... Some Canadian Bacon is about to get porked.
He closes the door on the camera, leaving it on a shot of Hardy's body, before fading to black.
The fade back in is slow, to show a totally darkened Toyota Center, with a spotlight only on what’s inside the ring: an aisle with a large painted portrait of Jeffrey Nero Hardy, our dearly departed.
DING!
DING!
DING!
DING!
DING!
DING!
DING!
DING!
DING!
DING!
Lasting shot of the portrait. Fade out.
Fade into the words:
FOREVER IN OUR HEARTS
JEFFREY NERO HARDY
1977-2020
Fade out.
Fade into our cold open for the evening.
Revelation 6:1-2
1 And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see.
2 And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.
19th of June, 2020
The Compound
Just Outside of Great Falls, Montana
8:59 am
As we near the 9 AM scheduled start for this sermon, the church is full of The Father's followers, whispering amongst themselves, wondering what could this be about, as the sermon normally is called every Friday and Sunday. the crowd then falls silent as the doors to the church swing open, and The Father, The Wolf, The Judge and The Siren make their way into the church, The Father's arms out wide, his head leaning upwards towards the heavens, as he reaches the front of the church, he turns to face his followers, with his brothers and sister by his side.
The Father
My Children... today is the start of something larger than us all... today is the day that we begin our journey... to start to spread our message to the masses. In our attempt to save all the souls which have been lost. As our lord has commanded me to save them... whether they want to be saved or not... for it is our duty.
The Wolf
And with this being our first step on our journey... we are going to need all of your support... for it will be myself and The Judge that will be going onto national television to spread our word. To defeat these poor lost souls... to send them on the right path.
The Judge
(Grunt)
The Father
Now... my children. You may be confused as to why we have picked the world of Professional wrestling as our first step towards salvation. I understand the confusion... but our lord works in mysterious ways... as it is his duty to guide us on the path. When he spoke to me he told me this would be the start of something amazing for our cause. For OUR family.
The Siren
But brother... what if there is someone out there who sees our message being broadcast... and refuses to believe it? What if they just ignore us and continue to live their life in sin?
The Father
Well... I would have to say to those people out there that they would be foolish to not believe in our cause. To not believe in what it is that we do here... we do not spout false speakings. For everything I say has been proven to be correct... for I have spoken to our lord and savior. While these others claim they have... and they spread their false message. But I am not a false prophet like this before me.
The Wolf
Our family knows that brother. But the new audience we will be reaching will not. They will only think of us as people leading "lambs to the slaughter"
The Judge
(Grunt)
The Father
If they do not believe us... then we will have to open their eyes to our way of life... we will have to prove ourselves... more importantly... You two…
The Father turns and places his hands on Wolfs and The Judges shoulder.
The Father
You two will have to make sure that we walk out of that match victorious. Do you understand me?
The Wolf
Yes, brother.
The Judge
(Grunt)
The Siren
Wait... does... does that mean that we are not going to be at ringside for their match? Why are we not going out there?!?
The Father
Because... we must make sure that we have everything under control here... we must make sure that our family has a home. I have the utmost faith in our brothers to do what it is they do best.
The Siren
But... No. We need to be out there. This is their first opportunity to spread our message! We need to be ou-
The Father
No we don't. You must trust in our plan sister. For it has been crafted by our lord and savior... so we cannot fail here. It is our destiny... we must spread our message! We must turn these sinners out there towards the light that is our family! We are the saviors for the masses. My sister... we must send our brothers to AWF to spread our message... to start our journey. I promise you that soon we will all be there... we will all make our presence known. We will show them the wrong doings of their ways. But the way we can support them on this major first step is by staying here... making sure everything here is perfect. Then we can make ourselves known.
The Siren
Okay Brother...I believe you.
The Father
NOW! My Children…
The Father then turns to face his audience once more.
The Father
We must focus... for Wolf and The Judge... our brothers... are set to go out on their quest. Their quest to spread our word... to spread our way of life. We must spread our support towards them. For they are set to leave after our sermon today... so we will finish today early with a quote from OUR bible.
He opens up the bible to what appears to be a random page... and begins to quote it.
The Father
Marshall 3:4-6... "Then the lord came down... spoke his words to his prophet... for him to spread to their followers. About the day of reckoning... about the day that his family that he has curated will finally spread his message to the masses. Putting more eyes on the prophet than there ever has been before... sewing the seeds to what would be the eventual take over... the eventual take over of the world as we know it... with The Prophet leading the charge... his family... his followers... by his side."
Fade out and into our AWF PrimeTime introductory video package.
Upon the one-minute-five-second logo flash in front of the ensuing action, we are flashed in a wide-view of the arena, but with no pyrotechnics.
The glass hasn’t even finishing shattering by the time the ENTIRETY of Houston’s jam-packed audience have risen to their feet, all coming together in order to participate in by far the most unprecedented, electric pop that the Alberta Wrestling Federation has yet seen. On his thirteenth second cue comes ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin out of the backstage area, in an old school 3:16 vest, a gold hooped earring in his left ear, the Hollywood Blondes gold chain, the above-knee jorts, and those black low top boots. Ecstatic, the cheers seem to manage to grow at the sight of his smirk - although still he talks the head-bobbing trash, darting his eyes across the arena then back at his feet in his rant. Christian has to scream to be heard.
Christian Cage: Are you witnessing this reaction?! Twenty-four years -- on the day -- since the 3:16 speech, and we’re here! We’re in Booker’s hometown, but we’re also in the same city where nearly twenty years ago, Austin aligned himself with the devil at WrestleMania X-Seven! They showed their loyalty then, and nothing’s changed now! Texas’ Favorite Export!
He skips the first step, pulling up with the ringpost to help onto the apron to begin entry in the ring, but not until he’s lingered that left leg over the second rope just a couple seconds extra. Right off the momentum, he’s stomping to the turnbuckle just diagonal then taking to his usual double-fisted, bird-flipping pose on the second ropes. The camera cuts just at the right time for the panoramic we’re all used to, coming in far from the side then in close just as he hops off and over to the next, the lights basking the crowd in the electricity of the moment.
This is quinntessential Stone Cold; he’s at home and in his element.
On the third turnbuckle, he engages with a fan offering him a cold one via finger point, before the crowd participant throws it up perfectly into his palm. Without a second effort, Austin pops the top, offers a false handoff as salute, then cocks his head back to down it himself. Tossed back into the crowd, another fan comes to catch it while Stone Cold makes his way to his fourth and final corner back toward the hard camera, then toward Mark Beverly, whose microphone he demands.
Stone Cold
OOOOOH HELL YEAH!
The crowd pops again, as he allows them. The microphone returns to his lips.
Stone Cold
NOW IF YOU’RE READY FOR STONE COLD TO TAKE OVER THE AWF GIMME A HE---
At the interruption of the classic chord, in one of the most shocking moments yet on a PrimeTime broadcast, the capacity crowd immediately revolts - picking their side clearly. A second gathering of boos, even louder than the first, meet Bret Hart as he emerges from the curtain on cue with a microphone in hand. Although his face is rife with determination, the reaction staggers him a bit, literally, as it stops him in his tracks and causes him to look around the arena in a look of disbelief. It’s been over twenty years since he got a reaction so hostile, but he gets used to it quickly, continuing his walk down the ramp after his nameplate tells of his credentials.
Mark Beverly: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, the owner of the Alberta Wrestling Federation -- the Best There Was, the Best There Is, & the Best There Ever Will Be: BRRRRRRRRRRRRET! HITMAN! HAAAAAAAAART!
Houston manages more of a roar at the announcement, nearly drowning out the thing, but Bret does not let it surprise him this time.
Cut to Steve Austin, who surprisingly does not look annoyed, having a proper laugh at the backwards reaction reigning down on AWF’s founder. Once in the ring, he doesn’t address the fans at he might have normally, instead choosing to meet Austin right where he stands in the center of the ordeal.
The two men nearly get nose-to-nose, basking in the tension.
Austin’s face descends from his shit-eating grin to an emotionless stare.
Bret doesn’t move or waver for a moment.
Austin doesn’t move or waver for a moment.
Neither of them move.
Cut to a panning shot of the two legends, once again face-to-face with nothing but bad intentions between. Oh, the nostalgia.
Cut back to the closed up, hard camera angle, beginning to pan back on the staredown.
A sudden chuckle from Austin. Then the shit-eating grin returns, before a more hearty laugh is offered up, right in the Hitman’s face. In the chuckle, Austin doesn’t walk away, but to the side just enough that he’s turned to Hart, not offering up to the man any more time for photo-ops. Glancing over his shoulder with the smile, he allows Bret to begin.
Bret Hart
Y’know, something, Austin….
Boos rain before the sentence can be continued. Bret ignores the response.
Bret Hart
What you did to Booker was--
More boos, and Hart turns to look at the crowd, confused considering this is the Commissioner’s hometown. Bret turns back.
Bret Hart
It was uncalled for! It was terrible! But he’ll be back, dammit.
Another chorus of boos as Austin squints over at Bret, the smile fading away.
Bret Hart
He’s gonna be back! Yeah, you heard it. That’s all I say, but just know, Austin, that he’s been beat down by bigger than you and he’s got up, every! Time!
Hart’s tone is particularly pointed, almost as if the Hitman was ready to lace up a pair of boots himself.
Bret Hart
And y’know something, you with this commission-
Stone Cold
No, son, do you know something?
Crowd: WHAT?!
Austin turns just slightly to get a better look.
Stone Cold
I said do you know something?
Crowd: WHAT?!
Stone Cold
I think you know I’m right.
Crowd: WHAT?!
Stone Cold
Yeah, (that point, this one to Hart) you know I’m right!
Crowd: WHAT?!
Bret can distinctly be seen mouthing his own, incredulous ‘WHAT?!’
Stone Cold
You know I’m right. You hear these people. Huh? You hear these people. You heard ‘em the first night, you heard ‘em tonight. What?
Crowd: WHAT?!
Stone Cold
You heard em cheer Stone Cold like nobody else done got YET.
One step puts his face uncomfortably close to Bret’s, the mic grazing the Canadian’s cheek.
Stone Cold
Including your (that particular mocking Austin tone) precious little commissioner!
Crowd: WHAT?!
Stone Cold
I think you should give me a shot.
No ‘what,’ just excitement. Bret’s laugh and head cock-back allows distance between the two. Austin doesn’t move.
Stone Cold
Yeah! Damn right! I think you should give Stone Cold a shot.
Crowd: WHAT?!
Stone Cold
(the point) You know it too.
Crowd: WHAT?!
Drop of the arm.
Stone Cold
IF YOU’RE READY FOR STONE COLD TO TAKE OVER THE AWF, GIMME A ‘HELL YEAH’!
Crowd: HELL YEAH!
The grin grows as he stares through Bret.
Crowd: AUSTIN! AUSTIN! AUSTIN! AUSTIN!
Steve drops his stare as Houston chants incessantly, pacing around the ring until getting back to the center of the ring.
Bret Hart
Y’know something...
Crowd: WHAT?!
Austin gets a little closer and puts an ear toward Hart, so as to suggest he’s listening closely.
Bret Hart
... You might have a point.
Both the crowd and Austin pop, as he drops back against the ropes whilst doing his weird ‘I’m screaming to the skies as only Steve Austin does’ hand gesture, hollering an audible ‘OH HELLLLLL YEEEEEEHUHHH!’
Bret Hart
If it’s what these people really want --
A deafening roar of approval.
Bret Hart
Then I’ll tell ya what: I’ll make you interim commissioner.
Austin’s smile dissipates. A slow microphone rise.
Stone Cold
(the crowd catches it in time to say it simultaneously) What?
Bret Hart
Interim commissioner, until Booker comes back.
Austin with a Glenn Jacobs-like head tilt.
Bret Hart
Or if I decide Booker’s services are no longer required.
Shit-eating grin comes right back.
Stone Cold
Are you serious?
Crowd: WHAT?!
Bret nods.
Stone Cold
Verbal contract? Right here? (points to the crowd then the hard camera) In front of all these witnesses?
Bret Hart
You got it, Steve. What you say, goes, unless I’ve got something to say about it.
A squint at the last part.
Stone Cold
Shake on it?
Bret looks at Stone Cold with an understandable hesitance. But the right hand gets put out.
Austin’s grin is the biggest it has been all night.
Steve’s hand grabs onto Bret’s with a fierce grip, but Hart is ready for it and their palms stalemate center-ring.
Cut to a close up shot of the hands.
Cut back to the hard camera. Bret walks off --
But Austin hasn’t let go of the grip!
Pull back.
Another staredown, this time the noses connect.
Shit-eating Austin grin.
The grip released - on Austin’s call.
Bret turns to begin back at the ropes.
But Austin pulls at the shoulder to turn him back! ----
Shit-eating Austin grin.
Austin turns to walk away himself.
JUST TO TURN BACK -- KICK TO THE GUT! STUNNER! STUNNER! STUNNER!
BRET TAKES THE STUNNER!
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING!
THE CROWD GETS ON THEIR FEET IN SUPPORT!
Cut to security, immediately running from the back. Austin’s head darts up quick and he gets back a microphone in grasp.
Commissioner Austin
NAAA-UH! NO NO NO! UH-UH! OH HELL NO!
The security stops in their tracks, as they are now at his command.
Commissioner Austin
Looks like the only motherfucker with more power than me, ain’t got much to say.
Turn to the hard camera.
Commissioner Austin
Safe to say, he seems a bit… STUNNED! HA! GET IT?!
His laughing head tilt back is so dramatic that he takes a full back bump, lays there laughing, before getting up with a head full of Bret’s hair in his hand.
KICK TO THE GUT! STUNNER! ANOTHER ONE TO AWF’S FOUNDER!
Houston still remains loyal in their response, but come down with louder boos than they offered Bret when Austin’s request for a beer is totally wafted by the throw, nowhere near his palm.
Cut to Austin’s look of disbelief. He shakes his head as if to shake off the fuckup, returning with that grin. The open palm goes back up. The next beer goes soaring over his fingers, closer but still bloody off. A pissed Austin chucks his microphone across the arena before rushing outside and toward the timekeeper (AKA the shit thrower), who sees it coming and begins sprinting away before anything can happen. Unfortunately for him, he’s a fat fuck and it doesn’t take much for Austin to keep a steady pace with that Stone Cold jog of his, around the ring almost a full 360°. Damn the ankle of the timekeeper, which snags the bottom rope as he tries to roll under it, giving Austin just enough time to meet him inside the ring and pull at him from behind.
TURN AROUND -- KICK TO THE GUT! STUNNER!
The keeper goes flying up, before crumbling like a heap on the back bump. The crowd chants his last name as Steve drops to roll underneath the bottom rope, grabs the cooler of beer that hid behind the commentary booth, puts it into the ring, then re-enters himself. Three beers are quickly popped open then he ascends one of the hard-camera’s turnbuckles. The hard camera pans in to his face as he stares through it, with that grin. Just as he slams the cans together --
-- and the pour. Fade into a scene.
Cheriè
Why?!
Cherie Belanger cries at the screen as Jon Snow gallops off into the white North. She slams her fist down on the couch causing her sister to look up at her with confusion. The older, darker twin is at the small kitchenette table, a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose as she darns a hole in her football sock.
Cherie hits the button on the DVD remote to eject the disc and return it to the case. Borrowed from one of the pair's mentors, Justin Fischer.
Normally, Victoire was used to her sister being a little on the dramatic side but this was the ending of a Television program and she couldn’t understand how Cher could be so worked up about it.
Victorie
It’s just a television show..
Her crisp french grates on the already raw nerves of the younger twin. She turns to look at her sister with a glare that could freeze even the hottest flame.
Cheriè
It’s not just a show Vic. It’s the ending of an epic adventure and they messed it up. Jon should be King, not that stupid seer guy Bran. Bran the Broken... what the hell…
Victoire chuckles, continuing to push the needle in and out of the fabric with ease.
Victorie
You just think some of the actors are hot...
The fraternal twins lived in a rented trailer, one that was coincidentally owned by their trainer's family so their rent was relatively cheap, however, money was not coming in as steadily as they had thought, when they first decided to move to Toronto to pursue their careers in professional wrestling.
Cheriè
It’s not funny! I’m so heartbroken. And... it's not just because the actors are good looking.
She puts a hand to her chest as if she was going to die, but continues her rant as if she were giving an empowered speech at some sort of rally.
Cheriè
I am so devastated by this lack of effort. I blame the author. It’s like he spent all this time writing this awesome series and then just shits the bed when it gets to the ending.
Vic looks at Cher with disbelief.
Victorie
You don’t even read Cher, how could you possibly know the books were awesome…
She’s gone back to English. It seemed to come more easily now that she was around more English speaking people.
Cheriè
Well... why make such a good TV series if they weren’t?
Victoire only shrugs. She knew better than to try to argue such a point with her sister. Most times it ended up just making Cherie more upset that she needed to be. She once again returns to her darting. Cher shuts off the TV fully and walks over.
Cheriè
Why not just buy new ones?
Victoire sighs heavily.
Victorie
Shall I just go take some cash off the money tree growing in our backyard then?
Cher bites her lower lip.
Victorie
Being in Toronto is expensive even with the Fischer family helping us out. I think you may need to get a job, Cher…
Cherie’s mouth drops open in shock.
Cheriè
Me... a job... I don’t think so…
Once again Victoire has to put down her socks to turn toward her younger sister.
Victorie
Wrestling is not going to pay all the bills. My female football contract is making it so we can eat but you have to do your part too.
Cher rolls her eyes.
Cheriè
I’ll just ask grandpere for more money…
Victorie
No. I told him not to give you any more money.
Cherie stomps her foot.
Cheriè
Why not?
Victorie
Because we need to do this ourselves. We are twenty-six years old. We need to be able to make it on our own without Ma Mere and Grandpere doing it for us. This is part of growing up Ma Petite. Why not ask for a job at Olympia?
Cher shakes her head.
Cheriè
They shut down the Toronto branch.
Victoire doesn’t say anything, only opens up her laptop. Probably the most expensive piece of equipment either of them owned. She does a quick search and then begins typing.
Victorie
There. You’re now signed up with a temp agency. Do odd jobs until something happens. IF we win the tag titles at AWF, our salary will increase and maybe you won’t have to work anymore but until then, you need to do your part. Unless you want to go home and admit that Grandpere was right…
It hit a nerve. Their grandfather had doubts that wrestling was a good choice for his darling girls. Victoire had a mind for business and he wanted to make her an executive in his company and Cher... well... Cher was pretty and probably could marry some well off man that could take care of her. Either way, grandpere was not happy about his girls getting into a ring and possibly dying like their father.
Victorie
Look... what about dog walking? You can do that....
Cher turns her nose up but reluctantly agrees. Her sister then types into the computer a few things and then looks up satisfied. “You start tomorrow. It's not much but a few hundred dollars is better than zero dollars.”
Cher, defeated, hangs her shoulders and stomps back to their bedroom. Victoire can’t help chuckling to herself.
Victorie
...Un tel enfant...
“I heard that!” Cher calls from the bedroom. But that was all that came of it because deep down, Cher knew that Vic was right.
Fade to commercial.
Fade back into another scene.
Fade into the interior of a retro looking gym. All Three Best Friends are standing near the shake counter, donning interesting outfits. Orange Cassidy is of course wearing his signature denim jacket and jeans. Chuck is wearing a grey tank top and black WBF sweatpants. Trent is wearing a black shirt with a large adidas logo under it, a white button up shirt with a wwf logo in the corner(which took him way too long to find on ebay), a towel around his neck and grey sweatpants. Chuck has a slightly annoyed expression on his face.
Chuck Taylor
Alright Trent, why did you have us come down here? This is our off day and I was really looking forward to sleeping in man.
Trent Beretta
Look, we all have a really important show this week. Orange is competing for the Provincial title and you and I need to reaffirm our dominance as the best team in AWF. I figured some good old fashioned training would do us wonders. I figured we would need some energy before this workout, so let’s grab something from the shake counter.
The three walk over to the shake counter, where a teenager is working the counter.
Trent Beretta
Hey my man, can we get like eight raw eggs split between two glasses.
Every single person in the immediate area gives him a look of disgust, including Chuck and the teenager. Orange remains unfazed.
Teenager
Dude, we don’t carry eggs here.
Trent Beretta
Huh, I figured you guys would.
Trent turns to his friends.
Trent Beretta
Sorry about that guys, guess we’re gonna have to skip breakfast. Let’s head over to the sit-up benches.
The trio walk over to the sit-up benches and while Chuck and Orange set themselves up, Trent is grabbing two forty five pound plates. He places one each in the laps of his friends.
Chuck Taylor
Uh, what the hell is this?
Trent Beretta
I saw Vince do this once and he beat Austin.
Chuck Taylor
Austin? Oh shit then maybe we should do it, if he keeps trying to fight the Commish, we might have to fight him.
Chuck does a few sit ups with the plate before stopping and turning to Trent. Orange is still just laying on the bench with the plate on his chest.
Chuck Taylor
Trent?
Trent Beretta
Yeah?
Chuck Taylor
Why aren’t you working out with us?
Trent Beretta
Oh, cause I’m the hype man.
Chuck Taylor
What? I wanna be the hype man, that sounds like so much more fun.
Trent Beretta
Hey man, my ribs still hurt from last week. Don't worry all of this is mental training for me.
Chuck grumbles and goes back to doing sit-ups.
Trent Beretta
And who got the pin last week?
Chuck Taylor
...Leslie.
Trent Beretta
Who?
Chuck Taylor
Leslie Jones.
Trent Beretta
And that was her first match. She is from SNL and not even good SNL. What do you think about that?
Chuck keeps doing sit-ups now slightly faster.
Chuck Taylor
...I hate Leslie.
Trent Beretta
WHO DO YOU HATE?!
Chuck Taylor
I HATE LESLIE!
Chuck repeats this every time he does a sit-up.
Trent Beretta
Who made a fool of you last week?
Chuck Taylor
LESLIE!
Trent Beretta
Who you gonna beat this week?
Chuck Taylor
LESLIE!
Trent Beretta
(standing up, with a hand on his hip while he thinks out towards space) Well and some other people too…
Chuck Taylor
(stopping halfway through a situp) Other people?
Trent Beretta
I mean yeah, there is Leslie, but we also have this cult, and then two french girls who were created in a lab.
Chuck Taylor
(returning to his workout) Jesus, this division has gotten weird.
Trent Beretta
Yeah things were so much simpler when all we had were fake vampires and Russian Luchadors. I mean, what’s next?
Trent notices Chuck resting with the weight.
Trent Beretta
(bending over in Chucks face) BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN WE CAN REST! WHO YOU GONNA BEAT?
Chuck Taylor
LESLIE!
Fade to black as Chuck and Trent are yelling and Orange is still laying there with the weight on his chest.
Fade into a dark storage locker. The door rolls up and in walk all three men.
Chuck Taylor
(shivinger as frost comes out of his breath) D-dude wh-why are we here?
Trent Beretta
If we’re going to assert our dominance over the other tag teams, we can’t just rely on our strength. We have to put that strength into practice.
Trent grabs a large coat from behind a bench and puts it on, as Chuck and OC look on holding their arms to their bodies for warmth
Chuck Taylor
Do you have one for us?
Trent Beretta
Why? You’ll warm up by training!
Trent pulls a chord as pig corpses fall from the ceiling. They lay hanging on hooks swinging back and forth as Chuck’s eyes follow them like a pendulum.
Chuck Taylor
Dude! You expect me to punch these pigs?
Trent Beretta
(walking up to Chuck and grabbing him by the shoulders to reassure him) No, no, of course not. I expect you to DESTROY THESE PIGS!
Chuck Taylor
I can’t do that! Just look at them.
Trent Beretta
Of course you can! Look, OC’s got the hang of it.
They look over to Orange Cassidy who’s limply smacking the pigs belly with the back of his hand. He turns to Chuck and gives a limp thumbs-up.
Chuck Taylor
I can’t punch an animal when it still has its face.
Trent Beretta
Okay, hold on I think I got something that can help.
Trent walks over to his bag, and pulls out a sheet of paper and some scotch tape. He pastes it on the pig’s face, revealing it to be a photo of Leslie Jones.
Trent Beretta
How about now?
Chuck Taylor
No! I can’t do it.
Trent gets behind the pig and starts slowly swinging it towards Chuck
Trent Beretta
(in a high pitch girl voice) Oh look at me I’m Leslie! I beat Chuck Taylor last week!
Chuck Taylor
Stop it, Trent.
Trent Beretta
(still in the high pitch voice, swinging the pig a little higher towards Chuck’s face) Ooooh, Chuck sucks!
Chuck Taylor
It’s not going to work Trent.
Trent Beretta
I heard he can’t even do the falcon arrow correctly.
Chuck Taylor
That’s not funny!
Trent Beretta
I heard he has a tiny dick!
Chuck Taylor
I HATE LESLIE!
Trent pulls then releases the pig back with all his might, as Chuck winds back his fist. As the pig comes careening towards Chuck at full speed, the photo of Leslie falls off revealing the pigs face right at eye level with Chuck. Chuck gives out a scream and drops his punch as the pig smacks into him full force sending him backwards. Chuck lands on the floor next to OC who’s just slowly pushing the pig back and forth, and the scene fades out.
Fade into the three Best Friends standing in the middle of a park. The three halves are still adorning their workout attire.
Chuck Taylor
Alright Trent, what’s next?
Trent Beretta
Well normally this would be the part in the training where you chase a chicken. All the greats did it, Rocky, Vince.... Anyway, I thought I’d make it more specific for you guys.
He turns to Chuck.
Trent Beretta
You know how the old saying goes “The best way to train for an SNL cast member, is to train with a SNL cast member.”
Chuck and OC look at each other in a concerned manner.
Trent Beretta
So that’s why I asked Horatio Sanz to come and help us!
Horatio Sanz appears from behind a tree wearing his best sweatsuit.
Trent Beretta
Horatio is gonna run around and you’re gonna try to catch him.
Chuck and Orange are still just staring at Trent confused.
Trent Beretta
(Blows a whistle) GO!
Horatio Sanz starts running, while Chuck and Orange are still standing there in shock.
Trent Beretta
Come on guys...go get him…
Chuck sighs and starts to chase after Horatio Sanz, who is halfway across the park. Orange remains standing next to Trent.
Yakety Sax plays as the two watch Chuck Taylor try to chase Horatio Sanz. As the time passes, OC moves slowly off to the right of the screen, until he is no longer in the shot.
The camera now just shows Trent writing some stuff on a clipboard, OC is nowhere to be seen.
Chuck Taylor
(In a labored and winded yell) TRENT!! I ALMOST GOT HIM!!
Trent looks up and is mildly concerned. He starts to fun towards Chuck.
Trent Beretta
CHUCK!
Chuck Taylor
ALMOST THERE!
Trent Beretta
CHUCK! NO!
All of a sudden a tackle noise is heard and Trent finally catches up to him. Chuck is laying on top of a Hispanic man.
Trent Beretta
Dude that isn’t Horatio Sanz!
Chuck’s face changes from a look of victory to a look of defeat.
Chuck Taylor
Oh shit dude, sorry!
Trent Beretta
It’s not your fault Chuck, they do kind of look the same
Chuck Taylor
I was just running, and saw a Mexican also running!
Guy
(in a thick accent) I’m Italian and I’m from Brooklyn!
Trent pulls Chuck off of the man.
Chuck Taylor
I think we should take the Commish up on that racial sensitivity class he emailed us about.
Trent Beretta
You have a point, but at least we know that black lives matter.
Chuck Taylor
Black Lives Matter.
They fist bump. Then the Italian man gets up and fists bumps them too, as they are allies.
Chuck Taylor
If that wasn’t Horatio Sanz, then where is he?
They both look for a while until it cuts to a park bench where Horatio Sanz and OC are sitting. Horatio is eating a hot dog, while OC is drinking an OJ.
Fades again, now the Best Friends and Horatio Sanz are standing elsewhere in the park.
Trent Beretta
Alright, this part is for Orange. I figure if you have to fight two other dudes at the same time, you should train by fighting three dudes at the same time.
Chuck Taylor
Is Horatio Sanz a trained fighter?
Trent Beretta
No, but he was on SNL, so it’s basically the same thing.
Horatio Sanz hits his fist into his palm in an intimidating manner.
Trent Beretta
Alright OC, if you can take three dudes at the same time, you can take on two. So here it comes!
Trent, Chuck and Horatio Sanz all jump to attack Orange. As his best friends and Horatio Sanz jumped to attack him, Orange closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes he expected to be dodging punches, instead he was standing about ten feet back from the situation. He watched as Chuck and Trent beat something up, looking at his own hands to see if it seemed real.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
Am I having an outer-body experience?
Orange looks to his left and sees nothing. He turns to his right and standing next to him is BRUCE HART! Orange opens his mouth as if he were about to say something.
Bruce Hart\
Sorry about the old bait and switch kid. I pulled you out and put Horatio Sanz in your place. Let’s take a walk.
Orange now notices that his denim jacket and sunglasses are missing.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
I guess that’s where my clothes are.
The pair walk around the park for a few minutes before either of them speak. The weather is nice and all seems calm in the park.
Bruce Hart
I’m proud of your fight with the Raging Dead the other week.
Orange stops walking and stares at Bruce.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
What is there to be proud of? I gave it my all and lost.
Bruce walks back to OC and puts his hand on his shoulder.
Bruce Hart
You may not have won, but you took my advice. You didn’t let him use you as a ragdoll and you gave him everything you got. You showed him you were more than the beaten horse of a joke that everyone likes to call you. You did well.
Bruce turns to start walking again. Orange watches for a moment before catching up to him.
Bruce Hart
Besides, I watched you hit a canadian destroyer on a midget last week. Funniest shit I’ve ever seen. But there aren’t gonna be any midgets in your title match this week....wait are there?
Orange shakes his head no.
Bruce Hart
Had to make sure, you never know with my brother’s insane asylum of a company. But like I said, you gotta get serious again. This could be your big break!
As the two are walking along, they come across an old time ice cream stand. Bruce does a double take when he sees it.
Bruce Hart
I got an idea, let's go get some ice cream, my treat.
The pair walk over to the tiny metal ice cream cart with a striped umbrella. The man working the cart is wearing an apron, a bow tie and a little paper hat.
Bruce Hart
Let me get a rum raisin and a rocky road for the kid.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
Kid? I’m 35.
The man takes out two cones with ice cream already in them and hands them to Bruce. Bruce then hands him an nondescript amount of money and no other words are exchanged. Bruce starts to walk again and Orange follows. Bruce takes a lick from his ice cream cone.
Bruce Hart
This is good. Here ya go.
Bruce holds out the rocky road cone for Orange. Orange goes to grab it, but Bruce moves it. Once again, Orange goes to grab the ice cream cone and Bruce moves it. Before recklessly attempting to grab it, Orange waits for a second hoping that Bruce would drop his guard, but to no avail as not only does Bruce move the ice cream cone, but he puts it into his other hand and slaps Orange across the face. Hard.
Orange takes a step back as he tries to gain his composure and process the situation before trying to grab it again. Alas, he meets the same fate as last time with a hard slap across the face.
Orange’s vision begins to get cloudy as he tries one last time to grab the elusive ice cream cone. He does not succeed and his efforts are met with another hard slap across the face. He doesn’t lose his vision, however he sees something entirely different.
What he sees is the blonde boy that we’ve seen in the past, but he is being held down by a child much larger than him. The larger child is holding what appears to be a Bruce Hart action figure in his hand.
Bigger Child
You want your doll back, don’t ya? Well try to take it.
Every time the blonde child tries to grab for his treasured toy, he is met with a strike to the face. This does not stop the blonde boy from trying to grab it, although the outcome is always the same.
Orange winces with every hit the boy takes. A warm sensation comes over his left shoulder, as if a heated blanket is being placed on it. He turns behind him to see the Female Figure.
Soft Female Voice
Do you see what’s happening?
Orange Cassidy
He keeps getting hit in the face cause he’s trying to get the toy back.
Soft Female Voice
And why does he keep getting hit?
Orange Cassidy
Cause he is not fast enough…
Soft Female Voice
No sweetheart, he is thinking too fast and not assessing the situation. You may need to move fast, but sometimes it doesn’t help to think fast. Find the true problem and you can overcome any situation.
With that Orange’s mind started to fade back into reality.
Orange Cassidy
Wait! Please don't leave me again!
But it was to no avail, his vision was restored and he was now staring at Bruce with two ice cream cones.
Bruce Hart
Oh come on kid, don’t you want the ice cream?
With that Orange rushes his hand forward, Bruce moves the ice cream, but Orange is not aiming for the ice cream. He grabs Bruce by the collar of his shirt with his left hand and is now making a fist with his right hand. Bruce has a huge smile across his face. Orange is confused so he lets go of Bruce.
Bruce Hart
That’s what I was looking for! No need to go crazy all the time, but no reason to not always be on the top of your game. You might want to get back to your friends before they really Horatio Sanz.
Bruce points to the Best Friends who are about twenty feet from them at this point. Orange nods and runs towards his friends. He jumps and hits Chuck with a hurricanrana, but Chuck rolls through.
Chuck Taylor
Wait? Orange? Then? Who?
Trent hears Chuck and backs up seeing that he was attacking Horatio Sanz, who is wearing Orange’s sunglasses and jacket, looking more disheveled than he had before. Just a few scratches, he’ll be fine.
Trent Beretta
Oh shit, sorry Horatio Sanz.
Horatio Sanz gives OC back his jacket and sunglasses, which OC immediately puts back on. Trent checks his watch.
Trent Beretta
Look at the time! I guess training is done for the day, we need to start heading to Houston.
Chuck Taylor
Ok, but how are we gonna get there?
Horatio Sanz
We can take my car.
He tosses the keys to Chuck, who hits the lock button to see which car it is. The lock noise comes from a 1997 Toyota Tercel. The gang loads up into the car.
Chuck Taylor
Aw sweet, there’s half a taco in the cup holder.
As the car leaves the park, Orange sees Bruce sitting on a bench with the two ice cream cones. Bruce gives him a nod as the car rolls past. Orange’s phone buzzes, but he ignores it as Trent starts to speak.
Trent Beretta
Oh shit, the training that Vince did was for the rumble match. I don’t think it’s gonna help us at all with our matches tonight.
Chuck Taylor, Horatio Sanz, and Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
Fuck.
The camera fades as the car drives into the sunset.
Fade into the arena.
Flash to an AWF animated logo to a screen reading:
THE BRAWL AT YANKEE STADIUM
25 JULY 2020
OFFICIAL THEME
Flash of an animated version of ‘The Brawl at Yankee Stadium’ logo that returns us to the arena, but this time to our commentary booth.
Lance Storm: Our official welcome to you all to AWF PrimeTime. I’m Lance Storm alongside --
Each fan behind the commentary booth goes ballistic in their rise to their feet.
Cut to the stage where the titantron plays along with the same lighting touring the arena as earlier in the show. Out of the curtain comes Steve Austin, with a microphone in hand, staring down at the commentary booth we just had the view of.
Commissioner Austin
First thing I want to be done is to get that piece of crap off my announce booth! Lance, you boring sonuvabitch? You’re fired!
Quick cut to Lance Storm who looks obviously taken aback.
Commissioner Austin
And here’s why.
In a pop that rivals Steve Austin’s first on the night, the crowd remains on their feet as the wrestling legend Jim Ross emerges from behind the curtain, in a tan suit and his patented black cowboy hat. He offers up the JR-salute to the welcoming audience before a loving handshake from Steve Austin sends him on the way down the ramp.
Cut to the commentary booth, where Christian darts wide-eyed looks back and forth between his now former partner and his new one. Lance Storm stands defiantly the whole, with no plans to remove his headset.
Cut to Jim Ross rounding the corner of the ring and approaching Storm with a walk that matches Storm’s defiance. Without a word, Ross offers a hand out in front of Lance. Storm cocks his head to the side, before reaching for the shake.
But Ross steps back and drops his hand, only to look just slightly above Storm’s head, use the same hand to point directly at the headset, and offer his hand back out, his message better delivered.
Cut to Austin, still on stage, watching the entire ordeal.
Storm decides accepting his fate may be the better course of action, removing the headset, giving them one last loving pat, then handing them in the direction of Ross, who snatches it impatiently. Storm stares as Ross acts as if he isn’t there, removing his hat temporarily to adorn the headset, then pushing past him to get to the nice leather seat, but doesn’t sit as we hear his voice for the first time.
Jim Ross: I’ll be damned! Finally! This program gets somebody with some talent!
Christian Cage: … Well… welcome, Jim. Been a while, good to see you and all, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish they under better circumstances.
Jim Ross: Better circumstances? By god, Cage, Austin’s in control and Good Ol’ JR is on commentary. There ain’t better circumstances! And you know who made it all possible? It was one man.
A pointed finger to Christian’s face.
Jim Ross: STONE COLD! STONE COLD! STONE COLD!
Cut to the stage, no longer occupied by the interim commissioner.
The high energy already buzzing in the arena simply just works for this first team entrant. Hands held firmly together, a leather-jacket clad Trent Beretta and a t-shirt-adorning Chuck Taylor clear the curtain to quickly stop at the stage, their hands clasped as they give the crowd what they want. Nameplate.
Mark Beverly: The following contest is a quadruple tag team match set for one fall! Introducing first, from Racoon City, at a total combined weight of four hundred six pounds -- the team of Chuck Taylor and Trent Beretta: BEST! FRRRRRRRRRRIENDS!
They wait for the conclusion of their credentials just prior to embarking on their journey down the ramp, slapping hands with fans along the way. As they reach the ringside area, the fade out of their theme.
A more mixed reaction stirs the crowd, but in general it is a bit more contained than any other reaction yet tonight. This is to be expected, this new team yet still unfamiliar to the AWF commoner. Their first impression, however, is impressive, as a serious-looking Victoire leads the charge, followed behind by Cheriè who skips out then around her sister until they’re side-by-side at the foot of the stage.
Mark Beverly: And their opponents -- first -- from Montreal, Quebec, weighing a total three hundred twenty five pounds -- Cheriè et Victoire Belanger… THIS! is the EPITOME of SAVOIR! FAIRE!
Victorie glares a hole through her opponents --
Cut to said opponents, getting a good glance at the new bloods and trading first strategies.
Cut back to Victoire and Cheriè descending together, nearing the ringside area.
Houston returns to a raucous response, much more familiar with this Hollywood darling duo. In complete unison do Kolotov Dracislav and Leslie Jones stomp out from the back with determined glares, not wasting time to stop at the stage for basking.
Mark Beverly: Introducing the team of Leslie Jones & Kolotov Dracislav: STAND UP SMACK DOWN!
Cut to the ring -- where the Best Friends are rebounding off the ropes!
Cut to Leslie and Kolotov, realizing what’s happening just a tad too late.
Cut to the ring, where AWF’s first tag team doesn’t stay long: Chuck Taylor between the top and middle ropes with a suicide dive onto Leslie and Trent clears over the top with a swanton dive that drops Kolotov to the arena floor! Beretta gets up smoothly, pats over his heart, kisses his fingers, and points to the sky.
Cut to Chuck getting clobbered by Victoire on the outside with a flying and stiff boot to the face! Her flexibility is impressive, but Cheriè’s tilt-a-whirl headscissors on Trent is just as exciting!
Cut. Victoire has dragged Taylor to his feet and tossed him into the ring, as just the moment Leslie charges her with a GOOOOOOOOORE! A PROPER FUCKING GORE! On the outside! The crowd oooooo’s at the way Victoire’s head clobbers off the arena floor.
Cut. Trent in the smaller woman’s grasp again, this time an Irish whip attempt into the post -- but he turns it around at the last second -- and she thinks fast, grabbing hold of the post before swinging herself onto the apron! Trent can’t help but stop and give an approving nod at the athleticism. Cheriè looks back with a beautiful smile then brushes the proverbial dirt off her shoulder, entering the ring with the same stare toward Beretta.
Just to turn into Chuck Taylor’s gutkick! Quickly, he grips her and we see it! The first Falcon Arrow in AWF history! Center of the ring!
But Leslie has an aggressive grab of the little bit of hair on his head, pulling him out of the grip as soon as the maneuver lands (and so does it land flush) and puts her into her own grasp!
Christian Cage: She’s setting up for it, Ross! We call this the Saturday Nightmare Live! if you didn’t know!
Jim Ross: If I didn’t know? I’m Jim Ross bitch!
Every light in the arena cuts.
Restless, Houston grows.
The lights flash back on, with this sight in the middle of the ring: The Wolf and The Judge, back to back, with a still-downed Cheriè just barely in the ring, Chuck Taylor having escaped Leslie’s grapple in the confusion to retreat seated in a corner, Jones herself in a corner, but standing and attentive at the sight in the center.
Ding!
At the sound, nothing happens. The hard camera zooms into the grizzled face of The Wolf, then pans to the much taller The Judge. Never, EVER has there been a bigger individual in Alberta Wrestling Federation’s squared circle. And everyone knows it, including the front row participants that cannot stop their stare at the man, as if he were a special attraction.
Cut to Chuck Taylor, the closest to that intimidating, mastodon of a man, his eyes bulging out of his skull as he cautiously rises to his feet.
Cut to Victoire, who has begun using the outside barricade to help her up, but not before getting a good look at the ring activity (or rather, the lack thereof).
Cut to Kolotov, who stalks underneath the bottom rope, seemingly picking his spot.
Cut to Chuck, Trent Beretta having joined him in the corner, just on the apron, as he should be. The two talk some more strategy as Beretta wraps the tag rope his hand, before a pat on the back sends him off.
Chuck and Leslie charge!
The Wolf meets Leslie with a wild Lou Thesz press, then sends a flurry of wild smacks and nail claws at her face, actually causing two open wounds along her right cheek!
Meanwhile, Chuck gets dropped FAST with a Bionic Elbow from The Judge that looked as though it took absolutely no effort! His body drops only to bounce back up, then he finds himself over The Judge’s shoulder -- running powerslam to the center of the ring! The sound!
At that moment, Leslie is able to turn around the scenario, putting The Wolf on his back to attempt a mounted flurry, but The Wolf quickly turns it back, and the two begin brawling in a roll all the way to the outside, on the arena floor.
Referee Emerson Fofão draws his attention to this scuffle of legal participants outside of the ring. At that moment, Cheriè manages an arm-swinging low-blow on The Judge! We see a glimmer of a reaction and some pain, before the man sickeningly just… straightens up. Reeking of a horror movie villain, a slow turn to Belanger, who stands, unable to believe the response -- so she uses his leg this time! This kicking low-blow is more effective, as The Judge can’t help but grab at his nether regions in a bowl over!
Victoire is quickly in the ring to assist her twin, ducking under The Judge’s arm for a back suplex -- but she can’t get the man up on her own! Kolotov’s spot is picked, and he’s in the ring to get on the other side -- DOUBLE BACK SUPLEX! THEY MANAGE IT! The ring clearly bounces on impact.
Grabbing at her back after, Victoire commands the referee’s attention as Cheriè attempts a pin.
Emerson Fofão: ONE!.......
Kolotov kicks her in the back of the head! Without hesitation, Emerson is reprimanding and pushing the illegal Kolotov toward the ropes to get out of the ring.
Cut to an outside camera view, where Leslie Jones is able to reach up and force Victorie backwards out of the ring by a grab of the hair! Victoire lands like a cat, on both, and even manages to block the incoming right hand and turn it into her own, Kane-style uppercut! Belanger takes just two steps back before rushing in with the same running big boot that cleaned Chuck’s clock earlier and two times does it land! Leslie, however -- that sick fuck -- is only down to one knee following the blow, and uses such positioning to help in a fast sprint for another GOOOOOOOORE!
BUT VICTORIE KNOWS IT’S COMING! ARN ANDERSON STYLE SPINEBUSTER, BY VICTORIE!
Jim Ross: Jones is down! BY GOD CAGE! Jones is down!
Cut to The Judge with Cheriè in a chokeslam grab that she is surely not getting out of. Chuck Taylor may help though! Springboard! Victoire rolls Leslie under the bottom rope.
Right into his other hand! With both hands wrapped around their necks, with disgusting ease does he lift both above his head to drop them with a destructive double chokeslam!
The Judge turns to see his biggest opposition attempting to pull herself from her knees, and down comes another Bionic Elbow to halt her efforts. His boot to her jaw is surely one of the worst things Jones has yet to endure in her short wrestling career, but even worse is when he’s able to set up and connect with a massive powerbomb in the center of the ring!
Jim Ross: She’s gone about fifteen feet in the air and had a helluva rough landing! This Judge fella is a behemoth!
Cheriè slinks over slyly.
Emerson Fofão: TAG!
Victoire is in like a bat out of hell, ducking The Judge’s attempted lariat into a gut kick, then a kick to the knee once she realizes the first was ineffective. Still, leg grab or not, he looms, so she rebounds off the ropes -- and gets caught in his grasp! On his shoulders and he’s going for that powerslam!
But she slides down --
Emerson Fofão: TAG!
-- and pushes him into the same corner the tag emanated from: kick over the head from Trent to The Judge! This shot must’ve hit just the right way, as for once we watch The Judge stumble backwards. Still, the big bastard isn’t down, so Beretta does what needs be done: springboard missile dropkick to the mush!
But still, he will not fall! But the kick pushes the groggy man into the waistlock grab!
Jim Ross: No way dammit! There’s no way she can do this on her own!
And over her head does he go! GERMAN SUPLEX BY VICTOIRE HITS! THE JUDGE FOLDS OVER HIS OWN NECK!
Jim Ross: Good Lord she did it! Victoire has done it!
Unknowing how, the fold over rolls him to his feet, though with minimal balance as he stumbles back into the corner where The Wolf awaits.
Emerson Fofão: TAG!
Leslie Jones with the same running big boot Victoire has been delivering, to Victoire!
Trent charges The Wolf only to be met with the same Lou Thesz that caught Leslie. Trent guards up well, but his left forearm suffers a scratch. Smartly, The Wolf changes one claw on the last millisecond into a stiff left jab to the less-than-100% ribs, forcing open Trent’s grip for a right to the face that’s even stiffer.
Cut to Leslie stomping an effective mudhole in Victoire in the Shut Up Smack Down corner.
Emerson Fofão: TAG!
Kolotov is in and together they begin to stomp a mudhole. Emerson is right into the fray to try and break the illegal double team. Leslie listens, only to be quickly tagged in again.
Emerson Fofão: TAG!
The double mudhole into the official-mandated singular variety.
Emerson Fofão: TAG!
Kolotov is back in, and grinds a nasty boot into the throat!
Cut to Trent attempting a superkick that’s ducked -- side kick to the gut! A sudden knee trembler is the followup, before The Wolf twists Beretta’s neck and drives his face into his knee! In the same shot can Kolotov’s swinging STO slam to Victoire be seen.
Cut to Cheriè watches along as Kolotov forces her sister back into the unlucky corner. Not having it, in a fit of anger, goes to assist her twin by running along the apron to Leslie’s side and scoring against the unwitting Jones with a basement dropkick to the knees! Jones is down! Rough fall on the arena floor! Kolotov attempts a clothesline that’s turned into a hot shot against him! Cheriè uses his head to pull him under the top rope to her side of the apron and begins with a few forearms to the chin! Victoire has been given just enough time, now on the outside and pulling Kolotov down by the legs, his head smacking against the side of the ring! In that moment, Leslie is up and striking the recovered Belanger, as Cheriè gets on Kolotov, all leading to an outside brawl between both teams! Referee Emerson exits the ring to try and stop the fray as he can.
Cut to the ring, where Trent Beretta and The Wolf collide in the center of the ring with a double clothesline.
Cut to Chuck Taylor, noticing that absolutely no one including the referee is paying attention to him. Slyly, he drops off the apron and begins toward the commentary booth.
Cut to both Beretta and The Wolf still down from the double-maneuver.
Cut to the outside brawl.
Cut to Chuck very politely asking Mark Beverly for the steel foldable chair he sits on, and the ring announcer’s cooperation.
Cut to The Wolf stirring first, nearly on his knees as Beretta rolls toward the nearest ropes.
Cut to Chuck walking around the bend, chair in hand -- CHAIRSHOT! TO THE KNEES, TAKING AN IDEA FROM CHERIÈ BUT THIS BLOW IS TO THE JUDGE WHO CRUMBLES! BUT STILL, THE JUDGE ATTEMPTS TO STAND!
CHAIRSHOT TO THE HEAD FROM TAYLOR!
AND ANOTHER ONE SINCE THE FIRST DIDN’T DROP HIM!
The Wolf hears the second blow, now finally on his feet, and turns.
AND TAYLOR WAS ON THE APRON WAITING -- CHAIRSHOT TO THE DOME OF THE WOLF!
Taylor tosses the chair and rolls underneath the bottom rope, pulling The Wolf up with him.
Cut to Emerson on the outside, giving up on stopping the mindless brawl going on between Savoir Faire and Shut Up Smack Down and turning to see Taylor putting The Wolf in cradle back-to-belly position!
Cut to the hard camera, where we see Trent ascending the top rope, Houston standing to their feet as he gets ready. He’s off.
THE FOOT STOMP! AS CHUCK DROPS FOR THE PILEDRIVER!
Taylor doesn’t waste time in getting off and rolling out of the ring as Emerson rolls in! Beretta drags The Wolf away from the ropes and hooks the leg!
Emerson Fofão: ONE!........
TWO!.......
THREE!
DING DING DING
Christian Cage: Sometimes you just gotta go that extra mile!
At the sound of the bell, the outside brawl stops and all four participants look into the ring, realizing what’s occurred. Best Friends make a quick beeline out of the ring and begin their celebration while walking backwards up the ramp. Emerson runs to catch up with them, in order to raise their hands.
Mark Beverly: The winners of this match -- Trent Beretta and Chuck Taylor: BEST! FRRRRRRIENDS!
Emerson is finally able to grab hold of both their wrists when they’re at the top of the stage then raises their victorious arms.
Best Friends win the Quadruple Tag Team match in 10:05
A crossfade into another scene.
Laci Valentine
Urrrg.
The grumble radiates from underneath the face of a hung-over Laci Valentine. She has it so eloquently mashed against the wooden four seater kitchen table that her and Lucy share.
Lucy Richards
Good night?
Lucy asks, pouring them both each a cup of black coffee from an outdated pot.
Laci Valentine
No. I feel like I was run over by our rented van. On top of that... I kissed him!
Lucy returns to the table, setting a mug with a kitten hanging from a tree with the caption, 'Hang in there, Babe' in front of Laci.
Lucy Richards
So. I kissed Panda.
She shrugs as if it's not a big deal. Laci raises her head, staring at her friend.
Laci Valentine
And nobody knew that until you just told me. Everyone saw us.
Lucy takes a sip, appearing as if she were thinking about what she was going to say next.
Lucy Richards
Are you embarrassed that you kissed him? Seemed to me that you were both getting along pretty well before you got too drunk to control your libido.
Laci Valentine
Yes... I mean no. Not that I kissed him specifically, just that I was so drunk I had no control over my actions.
Lucy starts laughing and shakes her head.
Lucy Richards
If you can remember it, you had control. You like him. You wanted to kiss him, maybe more by the way we all had to pry you two apart…
Laci Valentine
Lucy!
Lucy shrugs her shoulders.
Lucy Richards
You're overthinking it. Honestly, I'd be more worried about that Priscilla chick and the damage you did to her statue than what people will say about you locking lips with Spud.
Laci puts her head back flat against the table face first.
Laci Valentine
Urrrg!
Lucy Richards
Drink your coffee, it will help clear your head. Then you can text Spud.
Laci shakes her head.
Laci Valentine
Why should I text him first? He should text me. I'm not going to put myself out there only for him to reject me. What if I'm not his type?
Lucy starts laughing.
Laci Valentine
What?
Lucy Richards
Believe me, I don't think that's his issue... if he even has one. Laci, sweetheart, have you not seen you? You are gorgeous. You are smart and you're a God-damned marvel in a wrestling ring. If anything he might think you're out of his league and think you don't want anything to do with him.
Laci Valentine
Yeah, a marvel that can't win a match.
Lucy Richards
Get out of your own head. That's your issue. You focus too much on things. Just.... let it go…
Laci looks up.
Laci Valentine
Is this pay back for that 'next right thing', thing?
Lucy smirks over her coffee cup.
They both look up when they hear the bathroom door open and within seconds the dark-haired vagrant that Laci forgot was staying with them, sits at the empty place at the table.
Lucy Richards
What we talking about?
Zaylee says, taking Lucy's cup and sipping. She screws up her face.
Zaylee
Gross. You like it black?
Laci Valentine
We're hung over.
Laci quips. Zaylee rolls her eyes.
Zaylee
I think you're just embarrassed you kissed that idiot from your company. I get it. I like skinny odd guys too.
Even though it's black and Zaylee obviously is not a fan, she continues to drink it, forcing Lucy to get another cup for herself.
Laci Valentine
I never said I was embarrassed it was him. Just embarrassed that everyone saw it.
Zaylee smirks.
Zaylee
That's the same thing.
Laci Valentine
No it's not. I'm not a PDA kinda girl.
Zaylee
How many guys have you been with?
Laci sighs deeply but before she can expertly dodge,
Laci Valentine
Just one. This Aussie guy that used her.
Lucy replies from the kitchenette.
Lucy Richards
Interesting. It's like if you don't find a guy who mentally abuses you, you don't give him a second thought. Does this tie into that double whammy of being abandoned by your sperm donor AND the mental abuse suffered from your pig of a Step-father?
Laci is getting aggravated by the woman.
Laci Valentine
I don't want to talk about it.
Zaylee
So yes. Now we're getting somewhere…
Laci suddenly stands up, fighting the pounding in her head.
Laci Valentine
I am not talking about this with YOU. I don't know you. You just made yourself welcome in our home and then insert yourself into our lives like you actually give a shit. I still haven't forgotten that despite having the resources to pay for a place to live, you broke into my friends gym and then manipulated Lucy into letting you stay here too. Eating our food, using our electricity. Then you come in here and act like you're so much better than me and offer your opinions on my life like you are perfect.
Zaylee sets the mug down but doesn't actually face Laci as she responds.
Zaylee
I know because I have been there. My parents died when I was twelve in a plane crash. I had to live with my snobby aunt and uncle. My uncle sexually assaulted me until he went into a mysterious diabetic coma and died…
She takes a sip but not before Laci catches the odd smile on her face.
Zaylee
...and my aunt treated me like a second class citizen. I ran away because I couldn't take it anymore. The only reason I have money is because when my aunt finally kicked the bucket, I was the only surviving family left. I was used to living like I had nothing and to this day, I donate my money without a thought. I even own a house but I can't stay in one place. I can't settle anywhere. You know how hard it is to be away from a guy that just wants you for you, yet patiently waits for the times I happen to breeze through whatever town he's in? But I can't help it because my mind is permanently in survival mode.
She's said this all in a calm voice.
Laci Valentine
I'm sorry.... I didn't…
Zaylee
Can it. I didn't tell you to get sympathy. I just wanted you to know that I get it. And don't worry, I've been giving Lucy cash for letting me stay here. I really do appreciate the company, which normally I don't. Maybe I'm changing.
Laci takes her seat again, a newfound respect for the dark haired beauty.
Zaylee
So like Lucy said, you should text that guy, cuz if you don't, you'll kick yourself in the ass for it.
Laci pulls her phone out of her hoodie and stares at Spud's contact information.
Zaylee
It doesn't have to be a love poem. Just say hi for fucks sake. You know you act like this tough broad but inside you are just as much a gooey silly heart as every other woman.
Laci opens up a text screen and before she chickens out types "hey" and presses send.
Fade to commercial.
We return to yet another scene.
A rusty and beaten down volvo, painted blandly red, pulls up adjacent to the driveway of an old bungalow in the pristine and kind streets of Guildford, England. Out of the car, looking very out of place, is the dark and brooding Vampire, Alaric Dracislav. He clears his throat, as he looks at the kindly bungalow ahead of him, before walking up the driveway, and knocking on the door.
After a few seconds, the door swings open, and a sweet old ginger lady looks up at Alaric through her spectacles. Upon her old eyes finally focussing on the Vampire, the old woman gives out a warm and overjoyed smile as she hugs him tightly.
Old Woman
Oh! Jerry! Oh Jerry it's so wonderful to see you! Oh my cutie-bum has returned home!
Alaric grunts, as he accepts the hug from his mother.
Alaric
Jerry is no more I told you, it is Alaric now mother.
Mum
Of course Alaric! Your cute little vampire name how could I forget!
Alaric
It is not cute mother, it strikes fear into the hearts of my opponents!
Mum
Of course it does sweetie of course it does! They're all terrified of you!
Alaric's mother boops his nose. Alaric sighs.
Mum
Phil! Phil honey! Come in the kitchen look who it is!
Footsteps sound, and suddenly arrives a pink faced, rotund, and incredibly jolly looking old fellow. He grins from ear to ear as he looks at Alaric. This is Alaric's father.
Dad
Well tickle my toes, if it isn't the Blade himself!
Alaric's parents both laugh, as his father moves over and starts giving him soft, playful punches on the arm.
Alaric
It is not THE Blade… it is just Blade.
Alaric's father hugs him now too.
Dad
And that accent! You've really got it mastered now! You sound just like ooh- what's his name?
Mum
Who played Dracula?
Dad
Who played Dracula yeah what's he called… B… Buhh… it begins with a-
Alaric sighs.
Alaric
Bela Lugosi.
Dad
Bela Lugosi! Sound just like him!
Mum
Oooh he does. He does! Or that vampire from the Sesame Street!
Dad
Oh yeah definitely definitely.
Mum
Anyway get your legs up Jerry- oop! Alaric! I'll make you a cuppa.
Alaric starts to move with his father through into the living room.
Dad
Yeah! Let's getting chatting about the AWF! Been watching you every week, we're so proud son! Of you and-
Alaric
Do not mention brother Kolotov! I do not want to even think about him right now.
Dad
Oh… well… ummm…
The pair step into the living room, which has been adorned with Hawaii Bone-O merchandise. The carpet, the clock, the sofa covers, statue and action figures, a gigantic poster on the wall. All of it is of Kolotov. Alaric looks ready to be sick.
Dad
Let's sit in the conservatory instead!
CUT TO
Alaric, his mum, and his dad, all sat in the conservatory in an awkward silence. Alaric eyeballs the mug that his father drinks from, a Hawaii Bone-O mug. His dad gulps.
Dad
We ummm- smashed my mug so this is the only one we have left…
Mum
If there was a mug with your face on it sweetie, we'd buy that in a heartbeat!
Alaric nods morosely. He looks down at his feet quite sadly.
Alaric
I do not know if you watched the latest episode of the AWF…
Mum
We did.
Alaric
Kolotov has turned his back on me. After all I did for him. And he leaves me for that stupid Skeleton man!
Dad
It's just a little brotherly spat that's all. You'll be back on track before long. Brothers always fight.
Alaric
I never fight with Percy! How is he doing by the way?
Mum
Really well cutie, he asks about you all the time he's really proud!
Dad
He's supporting us with his Guildford Helicopter tours.
Alaric
Has that taken off yet?
Mum
...well, no. Not really. There's not much in Guildford to tour really.
Dad
It's quite a boring place yeah. But I mean, people like the helicopter rides, those are fun.
Mum
I mean we've never been in one.
Dad
We haven't… but I'd assume they're fun.
Alaric
Are you stable? Financially?
Dad
Don't worry about that son. We'll get by.
He slaps his son on the leg. Alaric nods.
Alaric
I do not need Kolotov anyway! I am a singles competitor now and I do not have that young fool holding me back! I am up against Laci Valentine next week.
Mum
Oh! She's lovely isn't she! So pretty! What's she like?
Alaric
Mother! That is not important! This is my opportunity to show that I do not need Kolotov, that I can fight on my own. That I was always the better brother.
Dad
Maybe it's not about being the better brother mate, maybe it's just about-
Alaric
No it is! I want to show Kolotov that he needs me like I need hi- UMM! Like! Like nothing! That he needs me! That's it! The sentence ends there!
Alaric's mother and father nod at one another.
Mum
Alright cutie-bum. We understand.
Alaric
Also, can I stay the night?
Mum
Of course of course! Oh we'd love that wouldn't we Phil!
Dad
We would June we would!
Alaric smiles.
CUT TO
Night has fallen, and we are in Alaric and Kolotov's old bedroom, where Alaric has climbed his way onto the top bunk which used to be his. He wraps himself up in his Blade bedding, as his mother climbs halfway up the ladder and hands him a hot water bottle. She smiles warmly at Alaric.
Mum
Been ages since I've seen you like this. In your Blade bedding. God you loved that film you two, couldn't get you to stop watching it.
Alaric
I still do love the film.
Alaric's mother smiles.
Mum
I think I can tell sweetie. Here, I want you to have this.
His mother pulls out a necklace from her pocket, and hands it to Alaric. It is a rather rustic looking, vampiric cross, with a little switch in the middle.
Mum
Thought you might like it, we got it from a tat shop in Greece.
Alaric flicks the switch and a flame comes out of the top of it.
Mum
It's a necklace AND a lighter. Handy that isn't it.
Alaric
I do not smoke mother.
Mum
No… but it's still cool.
Alaric looks at it again, as he keeps flicking the switch that ignites the top of the cross.
Alaric
It is very cool. Thank you mother.
Mum
No worries sweetie. You've got this house to come back to whenever you want. Me, and your dad, and Percy… we all love you very much. We love both of you. And your brother loves you too. Just let him realise that, because he will. I promise.
Alaric nods.
Mum
And good luck with your match against that lovely Laci girl. See if you can ask her out we'd love to have her over.
Alaric
I barely know her mother!
Mum
Alright alright! I won't push.
Alaric's mother leans over, and kisses him on the forehead. Alaric smiles.
Mum
I love you so much my cutie-bum.
Alaric
I love you too mummy.
Alaric's mother smiles as she moves out of the room, flicking out the light as she does. Alaric is left in the darkness, suddenly illuminated as he clicks the lighter necklace in his hand. He looks into the orange flame, reflected in his eyes, before clicking it out once more, and being plunged back into darkness.
Crossfade into a close-up of a legendary face: Jim Ross’. From there we pan out, but all the attention fully stays on Ross.
Cut to another camera to show Steve Austin himself is the one holding the camera responsible for such a view.
Cut back to the JR-only view.
Jim Ross: Welcome back to PrimeTime, where next we have the highly anticipated Trial of Big Homunculus. Finally, Cage --
Christian is still not visible.
Jim Ross: -- will we get to the bottom of this Roderick Kross situation! AWF’s newest backstage producers will preside over the matter, the incomparable D-Generation X: Triple H & Shawn Michaels! Now: the Trial.
Crossfade.
A television courtroom similar to Marilyn Milian’s The People’s Court, although obviously set up relatively hastily in the backstage area of the Toyota Center.
Cut to the double doors of the courtroom from a hard camera. The doors swing open, but nobody can be seen. The nameplate 'PLAINTIFF: RODERICK KROSS’ typewriters out in the left corner of the screen, despite no one being spotted yet, and the over-dramatic voiceover begins.
Harvey Levin (voiceover)
This is the plaintiff: RODERICK! KROSS! He claims the defendant blew the house of his mother, and didn’t even have the balls to show up the event to avenge her if he did! He’s the classic case of a wussy! Well you know what they say: if you can’t stand the heat, get out the kitchen!
The smaller doors, between the audience and the section of the court reserved for the litigants and the judges, and finally can we see Roderick Kross. It’s not that he wasn’t there, it’s just José Figueiras made him into a fucking midget. He hobbles over next to his lawyer, who sits at their desk already, awaiting his arrival.
Cut back to the double doors as the song restarts from the top. They swing open aggressively as fuck as Big Homunuclus’ arms damn near decimate the hinges on the single push. His expression is serious, and this man can clearly be seen, nearly hitting his head on the television lights that hang just a bit too low, right above for him.
Harvey Levin (voiceover)
This is the defendant: everyone loves him because he’s the antithesis of Roderick Kross’ bitchass. This is the case of: Air Boom!
No one laughs at this pun, as it’s just shit. Classic Harvey Levin. Through the second set of doors does Homunculus go, immediately greeted by Ruxx Rampede and Black Clyde who already await him.
Cut to a view, from the backs of Triple H & Shawn Michaels in their full, 1700s judge attire (as expected, yes, with the powdered wigs and all), as the bailiff marches in front of the stand to address the crowd.
Bailiff Chris DeAngelo
(raising his right hand) All parties, please raise your right hand.
This entire introduction has been remixed and plays; wherever there is Marilyn Milian, physically or verbally mentioned, it has been switched for D-Generation X; wherever there is The People’s Court there is now The Little People’s Court:
Bailiff Chris DeAngelo
Be seated, come to order please. (turning and handing over his paperwork to the Couple’s Court style situated desk) Here you go, your honors.
Cut to a good view of ONLY Triple H and Shawn Michaels.
Triple H
Alright, let’s get this shit starteduh.
Shawn Michaels
Binman! Big Bad Binny Daddy! The Bineruno! The Adventures of Bin-Bin!
Does a very Shawn Michaels shoulder jive as he stands out of his seat, then does the Kliq-exaggerated-double point toward Ruxx Rampede.
Shawn Michaels
You first, daddy-o!
Ruxx turns to Big Homunculus, who shakes so violently because of nerves that the whole room shakes like Jurassic Park. Because of the shaking, a ceiling light falls down and crushes a woman in the jury and kills her. Ruxx turns to the Judges, HBK and Triple H.
Ruxx Rampede
My client is not responsible for that.
Shawn Michaels
We'll allow it.
HBK slams the judge glovel or whatever it's fucking called for no reason. Ruxx turns to Homunculus and throws a glass of water in his face to calm him down. The glass slips out of his hand and clonks Homunculus on the head. He barely notices and keeps shaking.
Ruxx Rampede
Brother calm down. I'll get you out of this I swear. I got an idea.
Triple H
Can the defence please give their argument. That's you bin man.
Triple H slams the glovel this time. They clearly don't know how to be judges. I fucking love DX man. Ruxx gets to his feet, briefcase in hand.
Ruxx Rampede
Hello ladies, gentlemen, and corpses of the jury. I am Ruxx Rampede, Big Homunculus' lawyer, and I am here to tell you that if you think Big Homunculus did this shit, you are racist as fuck.
The jury look nervous as the race card is brought out. Ruxx points at Roderick dwarf.
Ruxx Rampede
That little mother pisser is a paedophile. He fucks children! He does!
Roderick's mum starts to cry.
Ruxx Rampede
She's crying cos she's seen it happen. She knows he does it. He's a child fucker.
Roderick's lawyer, some big fat white nigga called fucking Norbert or something, stands up.
Norbert
That is anti-semitism!
Ruxx Rampede
What?
Norbert
My client is Jewish! You're clearly only insulting him for that reason! Remember the Holocaust. That was pretty bad.
Ruxx starts wafting at his face, pulling at his collar as he starts to sweat. He runs back over to Homunculus and throws himself head first over the desk.
Ruxx Rampede
I didn't know this nigga was Jewish! What the fuck! I can't use the race card now! Someone buy some time! I need to reformat the argument!
Black Clyde
I'm on it.
Black Clyde runs into the middle of the room, and faces everyone. He rips off his shirt, and starts making his pecs dance. Everyone in the room starts clapping along. DX are really impressed. Ruxx writes hastily.
Big Homunculus
Does this mean I am going to prison.
Ruxx Rampede
I'm not letting that happen nigga. Wait… I GOT IT! JOHNNIE COCHRAN!
Ruxx tosses the desk over as he moves back into the middle of the room, tagging out Black Clyde who moves back over to his seat, still making his pecs dance the whole time.
Ruxx pulls out a glove from his pocket. It's like a fucking normal winter glove.
Ruxx Rampede
This, ladies and gentlemen, is the glove that was used by the nigga that threw that fucking dynamite into Mrs Roderick's window.
The Jury look fucking convinced. So do DX. Even Roderick's mum is like 'oh shit yeah'.
Ruxx Rampede
Now, if this glove doesn't fuckin fit my client, then that means he didn't do this shit.
Ruxx moves over to Homunculus, who is still shaking.
Big Homunculus
What if the glove does fit me?
Ruxx Rampede
Nigga your hands are like 5 feet tall!
Big Homunculus
What?
Ruxx Rampede
Nevermind. It won't fit trust me.
Ruxx puts the glove on Homunculus' hand, and it barely fits over even one of his long as fuck fingers. The Jury start to clap.
Ruxx Rampede
If the glove doesn't fit, you must acquit!
The Jury all start to chant.
Jury
If the glove doesn't fit, you must acquit! If the glove doesn't fit, you must acquit!
DX and Roderick's mum both get in on this chant. Roderick gets mad at her.
Roderick
He blew up your house mum! It's on fucking video!
Ruxx Rampede
I rest my case.
Norbert
Well I don't. I have a few questions to ask the man himself… I call Big Homunculus to the stand!
Homunculus cries out as tears fall from his eyes. Black Clyde and Ruxx both hug Homunculus.
Black Clyde
You're okay brother! You got this! Go up there and give em hell!
Ruxx Rampede
He's right my nigga. You're gonna beat this shit.
Homunculus stands up and moves to the front bit. Norbert moves over to him like the fat piece of shit he is. Homunculus' vision is filled by the incredibly fat, pink, sweating mass that is Norbert. More bacon than man, he wreaks of shyst (shyst: to act greedy in a certain matter).
Shawn flexes his biceps for no reason in particular.
Norbert speaks with the accent of an affluent Kentucky gentleman. A real Colonel Sanders type. Unless Ruxx specified he had a different accent and I forgot.
Norbert
Well, Mr. Homunculus, rap with me brother. Let's forget all these legal shenanigans and just talk jive like two brothers. We ain't got nothin' between us boy. I actually think Kendrick Lamar is A-OK if ya just ignore the lyrics. Just be free with me homie.
Black Clyde literally vomits.
]Big Homunculus
Oh no I do not like this. Please make it stop. If I plead guilty can this conversation end? Please?
Ruxx Rampede
No wet wipes dipped in Pepsi for a month if you plead guilty!
Big Homunculus
I will be strong. I will listen to this condescending gibberish. Not for freedom but for Pepsi.
Norbert
Very well. Now could you identify the man I am pointing to?
Norbert points at Triple H.
Big Homunculus
No.
Norbert
No?
Big Homunculus
No but I like his deep brow furrows they are very nice.
Norbert
Well alrighty then. I was trying to undermine your relationship with the judge by asking what you thought of the culmination of Triple H's feud with Booker T, however I cannot lie I did not foresee you not knowing who he was. A mighty fine curveball ya threw me there, sir.
Norbert was already sweating, but now it starts to flows from his pours to the extent it has flooded the floor of the courtroom. The water is rising.
Norbert
Could you please do a southern gentleman a favour and stand up for me? Come stand next to me?
Homunculus stands next to Norbert, towering over him.
Norbert
Who is taller out of me and you, sir?
Big Homunculus
Why must you mock me? Of course you loom over me like a giant red wood.
Norbert raises an eye to the jury, and the surviving members chuckle.
Norbert
I don't know about you, but I do not find this man's judgement to be entirely trustworthy.
Roderick looks up from his phone and sneers at Homunculus. Roderick then returns to looking at his phone, presumably to send winking smileys to men pretending to be women on twitter or write a 4chan post saying how it's feminism's fault he's an adult virgin or something. Seriously, look up his twitter it's revolting lmao.
Norbert
As your, ahem, lawyer pointed out, if the glove don't fit you must acquit. What a pleasant little rhyme. However the glove did fit. It fit over one finger. If Mr. Homunculus were to wear, say, five gloves for one hand then it very much does fit. Let me make up my own rhyme. If five gloves fit, give this no good freak the electric chair! Oh wait that didn't rhyme.
Homunculus starts to shake uncontrollably.
Norbert
Now for the final nail in the coffin! I'd like to call a surprise witness. A well renowned airline pilot who had nothing to with 9/11 - unlike some people.
Norbert glares at Ruxx who grins for some reason.
Norbert
Mister Jose Figueiras.
The doors open and
WHAT
IS
HAPPENING
TO THE FONT!!!!?
IT'S
JOSÉ FIGUEIRAS.
The jury erupt into a frenzy of delight as Joseé Figueiras wades through the now knee deep pool of Norbert-sweat that is the courtroom. The woman who was crushed by the falling light comes back to life to cheer for José, but because her body is still crushed under a light she is screaming both in admiration for José, and also because she is in truly unimaginable pain. The merciful thing would be to kill her, and everyone in attendance knows this, but nobody is brave enough. Her gut wrenching screams continue for the rest of the segment, neh, the entire primetime show.
José dives into the sweat like a dolphin before erupting back out and flashes his trademark wink at the jury. Cum everywhere.
The jury-cum mixes with the Norbert-sweat so the floor of the courtroom is now a repugnant Quagmire of bodily fluids.
José Figuerias
José Figiueras!
Roderick grins as he sees his master. Or maybe he's grinning because a strange man on twitter is flirting with him, who knows?
Homunculus grinds his teeth as Jose holds the jury in the palm of his hand.
Big Homunculus
He turns so-called men into midgets! No man should have that power. He is a demon who thinks himself a god. If this were a place of worship his skin would set on fire upon entry!
Jose Figueiras pulls out a tape recorder and plays some samba music. Jose then gives Roderick a long straw so he can drink the jury-cum-norbert-sweat that is rising past knee level because that's what Roderick likes to drink because he thinks it tastes good.
José Figeurasi
My friend Roderick, do you enjoy playing PS4?
Roderick
No! You know I don't!
José Figuerias
Why not?
Roderick
Because my mother wouldn't buy me one! Why do you have to bring this up, you know it makes me cry when you bring this up!
José Fiigueras
What do you want to do when you remember she wouldn't by you a PS4, and probably won't buy you a PS5?
Roderick
I just wanna play tekashi69 at full volume in my ear phones and break stuff and blow stuff up. That bitch! I hate her!
José F!gueras
If you could cause her to be somehow eliminated along with all her worldly possessions, would you take that option?
Roderick
Of course! I've not even played Fortnite thanks to her. At this rate I'll never grow up to be big and handsome like Jim Cornette.
The jury simultaneously say "Uuucchh I can't believe that weird little fuck's world view is so skewed that his standard for male beauty is set by fucking Jim Cornette!? How the fuck do people like this exist? I have been alienated to the point where I could never side with this man on any matter, including those that are disputed within the legal system."
Norbert
You do realise, Mr. Figiiieuras, that you were called upon by the prosecution, to help the cause of your employee.
José looks at Norbert, smiles and winks.
José Figueiras
J
O
S
É
F
I
G
U
E
I
R
A
S
And just like that, José is gone.
Homunculus and his brothers are in optimistic silence.
Norbert
Mr. Hunter Helmsley and Mr. Michaels I would like to play the AnyTimeSuperStarChargeSwitchPass.
Shawn Michaels
(crotch chop) Granted!
Norbert
I am changing the charge aimed at Mr. Homunculus from an arson charge, to that of slander, due to the slanderous and baseless accusations of noncery thrown at my client by those representing Mr. Homunculus.
Ruxx Rampede
Oooooh look at you with the fuckin' "my client". Man must think he's motherfuckin' Paul Heyman or some shit. Bitch, Paul Heyman looks like Chris Masters next to your gelatinous scotch egg in a vat of lard-lookin', high cholesterol, type 2 diabetes-having-ass bitch.
Norbert
You may think that's funny, however I am actually very self conscious about my weight and appearance, and your barbed observations have hurt me deeply.
Ruxx and Homunculus both burst out laughing.
Norbert
That being said, I do not hear any sort of defense of my slander charge, so I believe this is an open and shut case.
Triple H really slowly raises the gavel to pass a guilty charge of slander over Homunculus. I know the jury haven't had a say but if you think that's a problem then that just shows you don't know how the AnyTimeSuperStarChargeSwitchPass works so don't question the logic of this segment because you'll make a fool of yourself. Read a fuckin' book.
Homunculus looks at Black Clyde for assistance.
Black Clyde
If you think about squeezing you elbows together during a bench press, rather than just pushing the weight away, you'll get better pectoral activation!
This isn't the advice Homunculus needed. He looks at Ruxx who mouths a familiar piece of wisdom. Homunculus looks down and whispers to himself as tears fill his eyes. The hammer is really slowly coming down on his freedom.
Big Homunculus
I am a good dwarf. I am a pleasant...I am a...I am a...
Homunculus remembers Hayley Littleton's face looking at him in disgust. He remembers her saying "You piece of shit."
Big Homunculus
I am a piece of shit.
Roderick
You sure are.
Homunculus looks at Roderick and grins.
Big Homunculus
I am a real piece of shit.
Homunculus places his hand over the wooden thing the gavel hits but to be honest the speed HHH is swinging that hammer he won't hit the wooden thing for ages.
Big Homunculus
I went into your family home with ill intention because I'm a piece of shit. Because I'm a piece of shit, I went in there to hurt your honour. Because I'm a piece of shit I stole your great grandfather's urn. Because I'm a piece of shit, a cunt you could say. How could you support me if I'm a cunt? Well I looked in the urn and I found this.
Homunculus reaches his hand into his own throat until he's elbow deep and retrieves a memory stick and holds it in the air. Roderick stares at the memory stick, petrified.
Big Homunculus
What could be worse than a cunt?
Ruxx Rampede
A pedophile!
Big Homunculus
Would you like to find out what is on here, or would you like to drop the case, prosecutor?
Norbert stares petrified, without anything to say. Triple H shakes his head.
Triple H
Think Pat Patterson was already showing that one around years back.
Triple H goes to slam the glovel, or whatever the fuck they called it earlier, but Shawn Michaels can’t be bothered to wait and slams his faster. The two men look at each and shrug in unison. No one knows why they’ve done this.
Triple H
With the power invested in me, totally not by Steve Austin signing D-Generation X into a plan B for his plan to take over this entire company by way of Attitude Era stars wrestlers invading or anything like that: I, Hunter Hearst Paul Terra Levesque Ryzing Helmsley declare you Roderick Kross of not only being a nonce, but an embarrassment to the industry. Mongo McMichael is better than your bitchass.
Shawn Michaels grits his teeth. Triple H stands up dramatically, his glovel pointed directly at the midget. Not the dwarf, the midget.
Triple H
I CAST YOU OUT!
All the lights in the courtroom go green as the song blasts right into the badass part. In the double doors bust the dancing pallbearers, casket on shoulders, and upon seeing the men coming in his direction Roderick Kross attempts to get away.
BUT HE RUNS INTO A SWEET CHIN MUSIC!
RIGHT INTO TRIPLE H’S GUT KICK! HOOK OF THE TINY ARMS! PEDIGREE ON A MIDGET IN THE MIDDLE OF THE COURTROOM!
The pallbearers quickly grab the small body, toss it into the coffin, and begin a procession out of the doors.
Cut to Roderick Kross’ mother, who says with joyful tears in her eyes: The evil is defeated.
Behind them follows a celebratory conga line, totally off rhythm with the D-Generation X theme playing through every single speaker in the arena. Three Big Niggas & DX (having removed their judge outfits to reveal the normal NEW OFFICIAL AWF D-GENERATION X SHIRT AVAILABLE ON AWFCORNERSTORE.COM t-shirt and jeans gig) have taken the kaboose.
In the corner of the screen as they walk past catering can be seen Steve Austin talking to Kendrick Kross and Tony Savage over a hamburger and a brewski. He offers up the beer as a toast to the case, and before long the conga line has gone one way, while DX and 3BN have gone toward Gorilla, picking up a sack on a table on the way.
Cut to the stage, as green lights flash and strobe all around the Toyota Center. Out of the curtain come all five individuals: Shawn Michaels crotch chopping away, Ruxx Rampede behind him just as hyped, then Triple H with the sack throwing glow sticks out of it then handing a few to Ruxx and Black Clyde behind him, who passes some to Big Homunculus behind him. All armed with them before reaching ringside, they work the crowd for a while, causing the song to loop but everyone having a proper good time.
Eventually HBK is the first to roll underneath the bottom rope, so Triple H begins to scale the steps. 3BN find their way into the ring and everyone takes their place: Triple H & Shawn Michaels were they usually are with their arms out, Ruxx in between them, with Big Homunculus taking the left turnbuckle and Clyde the right.
In unison, perfect, beautiful unison: the crotch chops in synch with the pyrotechnics! Houston has been treated to a hell of a show so far and show their appreciation for it in spades!
But what’s this?! Kendrick Kross and Tony Savage have snuck into the ring and begun attack the Three Big Niggas! The music and lights stop! D-Generation X gets away from the scene as Ruxx yells to them that they’ve got it!
Cut to Stone Cold coming out from the curtain with referee Charles Robinson in tow, an aggressive hand pulling him by his shirt. There he goes! The Robinson slide into the ring!
Ding!
And by the time he’s in there, Black Clyde is Eddie Guerreroing on a turnbuckle, as SAVAGE GETS HIT WITH THE RAMPEDE STAMPEDE! AND HOMUNCULUS IS LAYING IN THE CEMENTING BLOW OF THE TORNADO ON KENDRICK KROSS!
BOTH MEN COVER! ROBINSON USES BOTH HANDS!
Charles Robinson: ONE!.......
TWO!......
THREE!
DING DING DING
Cut to Austin, jogging down the ramp with a smile, then rolling under the bottom rope. All three of the people in the ring look at Austin with looks of distrust, and hints of disgust. Stone Cold looks at all three men, apparently not quite processing the odd tension with how he keeps that grin on while he walks over to receive Mark Beverly’s mic.
Commissioner Austin
Kross? Savage?
Both men are totally out of it and can’t respond. Stone Cold is still unpleased, as made obvious by the boots he plants on both men’s ribs. Ruxx looks on, uncomfortable as the fight they started had already concluded.
Commissioner Austin
You two have been JOKES! You’re fired!
That hearty laugh of his comes out, as he walks over and slaps Ruxx on the chest as if in solidarity. All he gets in response are more unimpressed stares before 3BN clear the ring and the situation. Austin only shrugs.
As Ruxx and Big Homunculus walk up the ramp, Austin takes the opportunity with the two unconscious men for just two more stunners, popping a quite satisfied Houston.
Big Homunculus & Ruxx Rampede d. Kendrick Kross & Tony Savage in 0:07
Crossfade into a scene, with a familiar voice as a narrative voiceover.
Laci Valentine
I don't believe that Bigfoot, the loch-ness monster or werewolves exist so why should I believe this man is actually a vampire?
I know I look much better than I did a few days prior, in fact I think I almost have that sexy Librarian vibe going on with my hair up in a pony-tail and a pair of dark rimmed glasses that, spoiler, never seem to stay on my nose.
On the screen in front of me is one of my friends, Bliss Fischer. On her lap is her cherub of a son Clark and behind her are various boxes stacked to near toppling.
Bliss Fischer
You shouldn't. You know how many gimmicks I have seen in my years as a wrestler?
Bliss was not someone that trained me personally, but in the few times I had met her when she came home, we had developed a comradeship that I was thankful for.
Laci Valentine
I just seem to be hit and miss right now.
Bliss sighs.
Bliss Fischer
I get it. I was where you are. I tried so hard to win matches and just felt like I was on this never ending treadmill. Being in a debut situation doesn't just end after your first match. It lasts for a while, until you really hit your stride.
Bliss was a legend in her own right. She had virtually grown up living and breathing wrestling. Not unlike Bret and his family. I envied her.
Laci Valentine
I've lost three opportunities for titles now.
Bliss shrugs and my eyebrows go up as I stare at her in shock of how nonchalant she is.
Bliss Fischer
So? It's not like there won't be more opportunities. You work hard and make your paces, it will come.
I had to admit, it wasn't what I wanted to hear, but it may just be what I needed to hear. I hated that expression though. That and 'tough love' both just grind my gears, hardcore.
And of course at the mental mention of 'hardcore' my mind wonders back to the bondage bash and Spud. Who STILL hadn't texted me back. Maybe I was overthinking this. Maybe he wasn't into it being more than what it was, yet I can't help staring at the unanswered text screen long after I had hung up from Bliss. I hated that this drove me nuts.
Zaylee
Hey Ginge.
Zaylee strides into the apartment looking like a model in a tight fitting black dress and capri tights. Gone was the hoodie that seemed to be a second skin. It allowed me to see something tattooed on her wrist but I wasn't about to ask about it, least I get a snarky comment back.
Laci Valentine
I really wish you would stop calling me that.
Zaylee smirks at me.
Zaylee
You are wound tight. You need to find that spud guy and just bone him already.
I sigh deeply, counting back in my head from ten. It had worked so many times to keep me from lashing out irrationally. Zaylee actually laughs.
Zaylee
Man, are all the trainees out of Olympia little angels? I have met two of you now and both of you gotta follow this imaginary rule book. Come on, I'm going to take you somewhere.
Laci Valentine
And end up with you leaving me to get gang raped or something? No, I don't trust you…
And before I know it, this girl, who was shorter than me I might add, is hauling me over her shoulder and heading out the door.
Laci Valentine
Put me down Zaylee! Come on…
Of course I fight to get free but she's smart and has me in a hold at a rotten angle. Of course this is doing absolutely nothing for my self esteem which was seriously lacking.
She doesn't set me on my feet again until we reach the pavement outside our building.
Zaylee
We're going to see a friend of mine.
Great. I still didn't trust Zaylee, however she was like that friend you had in high school. The one who broke all the rules and made you uncomfortable but in the same respect was wicked fun at the same time. I had a friend like that. Until she grew tired of having to 'force' me to break out of my introverted mould and found a new pound of clay to work with. I didn't regret having been friends with her though, if only for the fact that it made me stronger and less doormat-ish. Of course, that seems to be moot now as I follow reluctantly behind Zaylee who reminded me of Jessica so much.
She finally stops, it's about two blocks from the building. It's an old strip mall that was probably built in the late 60's. Seemingly uncommon in Toronto given that most of these were unceremoniously torn down to make way for condos or more gear to income housing. The neon is blatantly annoying as the offer of 'psychic readings' is burned into my retinas.
Laci Valentine
Seriously?
Zaylee pulls open the door which was blinds on it to block out any light, so naturally, the minimal light inside makes me feel more and more uncomfortable.
Zaylee
What have you got to lose?
I peak inside to see a list of the services that this charlatan had to offer.
Laci Valentine
(snarkily) 69.99. Plus applicable taxes.
Zaylee
I'll pay. Just come in and listen to what she has to say, you might be surprised.
Surprised that she probably would play on my body language and expertly worded questions that probed me for the right answers. I knew how this worked. If people really possessed these sort of 'gifts' then why hadn't they successfully predicted and prevented many of the world tragedies that had befell us. It was basically the same argument I had with my mother every time she tried to talk to me about 'accepting Jesus as my lord and savior' only that particular charlatan took 10% of my mum's Canada Pension yearly.
Reluctantly, I step inside. The inside of what was supposed to be probably a nail salon or consignment store was adored with silky looking drapes everywhere. There wasa table set up to the side, a ridiculous 'crystal ball' in the center. To the other side is a display case with a register and debit terminal. I scoff.
?
Welcome, Ms. Cleo saw you coming…
… A voice says from the back and I can't help rolling my eyes.
Laci Valentine
Saw me coming a mile away like most shysters…
Zaylee elbows me in the ribs.
Zaylee
Shut your trap.
A large European woman comes through a beaded entrance, she's donned herself in a full gypsy outfit including a scarf around her hair. Her olive skin is surprisingly clear and smooth. She then sees Zaylee and the whole act drops in an instant, including the accent.
Ms. Cleo
My dear! It's so good to see you. When did you get into town?
Zaylee
Few weeks ago. I'm not staying long. I got something to do in NYC.
Cleo smirks.
Ms. Cleo
Your young man…
Zaylee
Yeah. I haven't seen him in over a year so I have some things I gotta try and make up for. A lot has happened.
The woman nods.
Ms. Cleo
I can see it. You went through some big things this time. You want to stop running.
I had to wonder, did this woman really know Zay that well that she could see how she operated, enough that it would be easy to pick up on subtle changes in the way Zay was then to how she was now? I had no reference point so I wasn't able to make up my mind just yet. However, I was a woman of science, so without proof I remained skeptical.
Zaylee
So you think you could do a reading for my friend. A real one, not that shit you sell to…
She doesn't finish her sentence but I knew what she meant. The whole reason I believed Cleo and other people like her were just sideshow performers.
Ms. Cleo
Of course. She's a skeptic so you need something real to convince her.
She laughs.
Ms. Cleo
Come, let's see what we're working with.
She beckons me to sit at the table. She removes the crystal ball and pulls out a worn set of what I assume are tarot cards. She sits and starts to shuffle. Immediately she pulls a card with a hooded figure carrying a sickle. The death card. Wonderful.
The next card is the two of cups. She shuffles again and a card flies from the deck and hits me in the forehead.
Laci Valentine
Ow!
I run my figures over it only to be surprised that the edge of the card has given me a paper cut.
Ms. Cleo
Well... this card is something of grave importance.
She reaches in front of me to flip over the Queen of Cups.
Ms. Cleo
Hmm.
She moves the deck and another card slides out.
Ms. Cleo
Oh. More that the universe wants to tell you.
This one is 'the lovers'. A couple that are naked blazingly apparent that this card obviously must have something to do with my love life, or lack thereof.
The woman stares at the cards.
Zaylee
There is a lot here to digest. You are in the midst of a big moment. The death of the old you and birth of a new you.
Laci Valentine
You're not really proving anyth…
Zaylee
Shut up Laci.
I was starting to hate Zaylee again.
Ms. Cleo
I see a family member leaving you, tragically but yet it brings with it an inheritance and peace.
She looks up at me, her eyes going wide. "I know what you are thinking. No. Don't. The universe knows what he has done and he will be punished but not by you."
What in the ever loving fuck?!
I stand up.
Laci Valentine
I can't…
And just like that, I'm gone, leaving Zay and her freaky mind reading friend. Nobody knew that I wanted my step-father dead. I hadn't told anybody about that because if it came down to it I didn't want anyone being an accessory. How did she know....
I don't stop until I get to a park, sitting on a bench and just learning or rather forcing myself to breathe through the impending anxiety attack. It's at that precise moment my phone dings with a text.
"Hey yourself."
Spud. I look around nervously, wondering if he somehow knew I needed this. But the paranoid part of my brain is already thinking of a million scenarios. So I text Lucy.
She texts back jokingly, "maybe he's in the bushes... strumming his guitar...."
I can't help but laugh, breaking the tension and causing me to stop hyperventilating.
"So I was thinking, remember when you were talking about that dude who thinks he's a vampire?"
I type a quick reply.
She then sends me a picture of a tub of garlic butter she'd picked up while shopping.
"We'll just make you into the first human garlic loaf."
Man, Lucy. God (if there even was one) love you. I know I did.
I get another text. This one from Zaylee.
“Cleo wrote down the rest of your reading. She said that good things are coming, Ginge. See ya at home."
Good things. Sure. I guess we'd see.
Fade to commercial.
From our newest sponsor….
Fade back into a TNA style voyeur shot, of Steve Austin in his office. On loop is the Michael Jackson Pepsi Generation commercial. From here, we can see the commissioner performing the running man.
Stone Cold
YOU’RE A WHOLE NEW GENUUUUUHRAAAATION!
He hollers this in repetition, eventually turning into a Michael Jackson style spin that only succeeds 180° -- and he notices the cameraman. His eyes go wide and charges the handler.
Cut to the stage area of the arena.
The crowd, unfamiliar with the music, does not offer much of a reaction, but as Alaric Dracislav emerges in a new attire of black from head to toe, topped off with the leather jacket, they care even less.
Cut to a front row crowd member ringside.
Crowd Member: Oh this dude. Pissbreak.
Cut to a panning shot of the arena, folks immediately rising and walking toward the exit points of the arena. Nearly half the arena goes empty during the time of Alaric’s walk down the ramp.
Mark Beverly: The following contest is set for one fall! Introducing first, weighing two hundred sixty pounds: ALARIC! DRACISLAV!
Absolutely no response. Alaric can’t quite believe how quickly the arena nearly cleared out when he came out, as he just totally killed the vibe, but he grabs at the cross around his neck perhaps for comfort.
This theme song much more familiar by now, those still sat in their seats pop immediately. By the time Laci Valentine clears the curtain with a confident smirk, those who left are able to be seen trying to rush back to their seats, nachos, popcorn, and unzipped willies flying all over. On stage, she offers a pose with two rockstar gestures to garnish.
Mark Beverly: And his opponent, from Toronto, Ontario, weighing one hundred thirty pounds -- she is the HEARTBREAKER! LAAAAAAAAAACI! VALLLLENTINNNNNNE!
Grateful for the response, she offers handslaps all around the ring before sliding in and taking straight to a turnbuckle to repeat her pose from before.
Alaric glares over at Laci as she descends from the turnbuckle from her rockstar pose, then charges Valentine, clubbing her in the back of the head before she can turn.
Ding!
A grab of the hair is followed by a pull attempt, to throw her across the ring. The pull succeeds, but she athletically lands on her feet before throwing a dropkick into his face, knocking Alaric down! Back up quickly, her spring up hurricanrana sends him to the mat then rolling fast to the outside.
Cut to Alaric on the outside, wiping his mouth of spittle and clearly frustrated in his walk around the ring.
Wilford Brimley: ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Cut to Laci being pushed back by referee Wilford Brimley, who has effectively interrupted his own count, as she approaches the ropes nearest Alaric who wastes time outside.
Cut to Alaric, noticing the referee’s interference and thinking it to use to his advantage, slinking in to charge Laci - but she’s ready with a basement dropkick that sends Dracislav to kneel on the second rope! Valentine wastes no time in her rope rebounded return -- 619!
Alaric stumbles back, but on his feet, as Laci springboards to rectify that: SPINNING HEEL KICK! The quickest pin she can manage on recovery.
Wilford Brimley: ONE!........
T—AN EXAGGERATED KICKOUT
Alaric uses the momentum of the kickout to boost up to a charging clothesline — but it’s a drop toe hold that causes his second draping on the middle rope! As the vampire grabs at his throat stunned, Valentine is off the opposite set of ropes and coming with a crossbody over his body!
But Alaric proves his craftiest yet, dropping at just the right time from his positioning so that she falls face first on the arena floor!
Cut from the hard camera catching that last shot to a camera on the outside glancing in on Alaric, who lets out a fangy grin. He must smell the blood coming from Laci’s mouth from fall, as just after he’s on the outside and raining down boots and pointed elbow drops wherever they land. His motions are swift as he pulls her by her red hair, wipes blood from her chin onto his, then scoops her with a classic slam - but to the outside’s thin padding!
Laci grips at her back as Alaric taunts the crowd, bearing his fangs at any fan that’ll actually give him the time of day. Upon noticing her stirring, Dracislav takes to the apron with measuring in mind: DOUBLE AXE HANDLE!
NO! A duck and punch to the gut meets Alaric on the way down --
Jim Ross: Face to the barricade! Slobberknocker of a slam, stunned and sent back into the ring now.
Valentine rolls underneath the bottom rope, but Alaric is there and finally gets his clothesline off! It levels her proper, causing red spittle to come from her mouth, the force on the fall causing her to sit up and be met with a rope-rebounded dropping elbow!
Dracislav awaits her rise with intent eyes, charging off the momentum of another rope rebound - right into her kick to the gut!
Jim Ross: Simple, but effective, Cage, and you know better than anyone that’s all it takes sometimes.
Her second attempt at simplicity is caught!
Cut to a close up view of Alaric, the holder of the foot, where all we can see is the way he reveals his fangs to Laci -- then her foot clocking him in the back of his head!
Cut to the hard camera where the shot spins Alaric in the air then onto his back! Nonetheless, the man stumbles up to an angry grog while the Torontian makes her way to the top rope. Stunned but still with us, he’s able to push Wilford Brimley into the ropes, causing their reverberating and knocking her from her balance and for a loop!
Alaric glances over at the cross necklace sat on top of the commentary booth and nods to himself. He’s on the second rope in a hurry, his forearm dazing Laci a little more, the left swing doing it much more definitively.
Christian Cage: This man is 260 lbs, why is he climbing up to that top rope?!
Jim Ross: High risk, high reward. You should know something about that.
It seems as though he’s setting up for a super hurricanrana
AND THERE IT IS!
NO HER FEET WERE WRAPPED AROUND THE TOP ROPE! ALARIC AWKWARDLY FALLS BACK, ON HIS NECK NO LESS!
He grabs at his neck, rolling away toward the center of the ring.
BUT SHE’S OFF!
NO HESITATION!
THE HEARTBREAKER! THE SHOOTING STAR PRESS INTO THE KNEE DROP ON THE FACE!
Alaric looks out of it, and Valentine wastes no time in finding out.
Wilford Brimley: ONE!........
TWO!......
THREE!
DING DING DING
Valentine wipes the blood dripping down her chin from her mouth just before referee Wilford Brimley grabs her hand in order to acknowledge her win. Alaric doesn’t move from how he lay as the hard camera catches a great photo op during the announcement.
Mark Beverly: The winner of this match: LAAAAAAACI! VALLLLLLENTINNNNNE!
Once more, she takes to the turnbuckle she taunted on when she made her entrance, to bask in her victory. Although, it is the blood being wiped away more time that is the lasting image here.
Laci Valentine d. Alaric Dracislav in 4:24
We crossfade into a scene of the complete antithesis.
The large leather-clad living room within Priscilla Kelly's mansion is filled with people, yet still silent. All eyes, filled with sadness and surprise, resting on the plasma television hooked onto the wall and at the news report that is playing. A sombre TV reporter stands at the location of a rather rundown apartment building.
TV Reporter
Former WWE star Jeff Hardy was found dead here this morning, presumably having committed suicide, tragically having been found hanging from the ceiling. With no sign of a struggle, police are ruling out any other outcome. This is a tragic day in the world of wrestling.
The gimp-suited bouncers spread around the room all look on in shock, as do the cleaners scrubbing at the various surfaces. Hell's Favourite Harlot herself Priscilla Kelly, AWF World's Championship belt gleaming around her waist, sits looking at the screen with only mild surprise, before she gives a brief chuckle.
Priscilla Kelly
Wow. I mean we all knew he'd kill himself, but didn't think it'd be voluntarily. Huh?
Priscilla laughs to herself, before looking around her at the sullen and uncomfortable faces. She raises an eyebrow.
Priscilla Kelly
If anyone has the gaul to find that offensive, you're fired.
The faces around her begrudgingly lighten up. Priscilla turns to a rather morose looking Prince Albert on the sofa adjacent to her. Sympathy emerges on her face for the first time.
Priscilla Kelly
I'm sorry doggy. I know you knew him.
Prince Albert
He's a good kid.
Priscilla Kelly
Was a good kid.
Albert looks up at her, a flash of disbelief on his face.
Priscilla Kelly
Sorry just… semantics. It's past tense now, y'know?
Priscilla shrugs, before turning to look back at the television, the sad look of Albert lingering on her for a few moments more before he looks back down at his feet. Maeve strolls into the room, smiling politely at the cleaners scrubbing the floor, before she sits down over by Priscilla.
Maeve
The cleaners are still here?
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah… the sick really found its way into the floorboards, got them working overtime to scrub it out.
Maeve
I see. That party got kinda wild didn't it.
Priscilla Kelly
Not wild enough. I wanted to get made into fucking mincemeat.
Maeve
Did that Lieutenant dude not do a good enough job of that?
Priscilla Kelly
No. Not in that way. I wanted to get fucked into oblivion Maeve.
Maeve
Oh… right.
Priscilla Kelly
It was embarassing. Since when does Priscilla Kelly not pull at a party? I usually have my pick!
Maeve
That referee dude seemed interested? I know a lot of dudes who were asking about you too.
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah but none of them were... - this one guy. Who I actually wanted. Thought it was a sure fire thing too but he just… left me his number and that's it.
Priscilla flashes Maeve the index card.
Priscilla Kelly
Maeve. Sweetie. Priscilla Kelly does not text first.
Maeve
But… you have his number. He doesn't have yours.
A beat.
Priscilla Kelly
..............Fuck.
Priscilla takes out her phone and looks at the index card.
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah but we have a busy day ahead of us, if I text him now I don't want him to be texting me back and forth all day y'know?
Maeve
Alright.
Priscilla Kelly
Or, I mean, I could just leave him on read all day. Really play on his mind. Have him trembling with the thought of 'Oh, when is she gonna text back!? Is she gonna text back!? No she isn't! I'm fucking ugly and I hate myself and I'll never find love!'
Maeve
And then you text back?
Priscilla Kelly
Maybe.
Priscilla inputs the number into her phone and types out the text, reading; 'Hey Juice-Daddy, guess who? xxx'. She grins, before hitting send, before looking up at Maeve smugly.
Priscilla Kelly
Shouldn't have to wait too long.
She keeps her smug gaze on Maeve, ready for the phone to buzz any second. The two sit there for a few awkward moments as nothing happens, prompting Priscilla to lose her smug grin as she looks back at her phone. She opens the message thread, and sees there is yet to be a reply. She laughs nervously.
Priscilla Kelly
Well maybe he's umm- maybe he's in the shower or something? It's only been a few seconds crawl out of my ass Maeve.
Maeve
Oh I didn't think I was-
Priscilla Kelly
Y'know, I am so out of that dude's league! Like, so out of his league! Remember that story, with that dumb bitch on top of that pea with the mattresses?
Maeve
The Princess and the Pea?
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah, so imagine I'm the Princess, and he is the pea, and all the mattresses, those are leagues. And what there's like, a thousand mattresses right?
Maeve
I think there's 20?
Priscilla Kelly
20? Is that it?
Maeve
Well I mean it's still a lot of mattresses.
Priscilla Kelly
Either way! My point is that I am just- LEAGUES ahead of that dude! Honestly, I could have any dude in that locker room, any dude. Rockstar Spud. Ruxx Rampede. That big lanky dwarf dude. I could even get Maxi-Pad to ditch that bitch of his if I really put my mind to it. Any of the women too! But instead, I'm going for Orange Cassidy, so he should be fucking grateful!
She looks back at her phone, still no text. She pulls a face and grunts aggressively.
Priscilla Kelly
Fuck! Bill!
Big Guard Bill, from across the room, comes running over. He smiles nervously.
Big Guard Bill
Yes Miss Kelly?
Priscilla Kelly
Go get the car ready.
Big Guard Bill
Right away Miss Kelly, sir! Uuugh- miss? Uuugh Buddy Boy!
Bill runs out of the room quickly to escape the awkward exchange. Priscilla shakes her head as she looks over at Albert.
Priscilla Kelly
Doggy, look after Lucas okay. Make sure he eats.
Albert nods, still looking a little rattled as he remains seated. Priscilla motions over to Maeve as she moves out of the room.
Priscilla Kelly
Maeve, with me.
Maeve
Oh, okidokey!
The pair move out of the room, moving down a small set of stairs through into the main lobby area, before moving out of the front door, manned by two gimp-suit wearing guards. Priscilla looks up at the beheaded statue before her, and snarls as she starts to inspect it.
One of the gimp-suited guards unzips the mouth hole of his mask, as he leans over to Maeve.
Beefton
Psst, hey.
Maeve turns a little, looking at the guard.
Maeve
Can I help you?
Guard
Maeve, it's me. Beefton!
Maeve
Oh fuck.
Beefton pulls the mask off, unveiling his wavy gold hair, as he strolls over to Maeve as he bites his lip.
Beefton
Sorry was just getting a bit hot under there… or maybe it was just cos you walked by.
Maeve
Okay.
Beefton
Gave any thought to where the Beefmeistosaurus Rex can take Maeverooni, on our little… daterooni.
Maeve
Oh shit, you didn't forget about that when Priscilla smacked you over the head with the bottle?
Beefton
Oh no baby, it's all I've been thinking about. Getting my paycheck in soon and I wanna spend it on you! Well, and these pills that I saw on a pornhub ad that make your dick bigger. Honestly they work good, you should see the before and after pics! They even turned one dude black.
Beefton pulls an 'impressive right?' face. Maeve sighs.
Maeve
Okay… alright. I'm a man of my word so-
Beefton
You're a- a what?
Maeve
What?
Beefton
You're a… a dude? Okay! Okay, that's unexpected but I can work with that, I can work with that. This beef river flows both ways you know. The Beefball can bat for both teams if… need be.
He gulps, trying his hardest to seem cool with this new development, that isn't at all a development. Maeve just narrows her eyes at him.
Maeve
What the fuck are you talking about?
Beefton
You said you're a man?
Maeve
No you fucking idiot. It's a phrase, 'man of my word'.
Beefton
Oh! Okay! Okay that's relieving. Not that there'd be a problem if you were, you are very attractive, and cute, and I am very into you, enough that I would be okay if you had a big ol' schlong down there y'know. That said, I am glad you do not… because I do prefer genitals of the pussy variety.
Maeve
Okay that's kind of nice that you were so accepting, but it really doesn't matter what's down there Beefton cos you are not seeing it.
Beefton
Alright alright. I will settle for simply taking you on a wonderful date of your choice, and I will spare no expense.
Priscilla Kelly
FUCKERS!!!
Maeve and Beefton both jump as they twist to look at Priscilla, who has climbed her statue to inspect the championship belt area of it. She squints at an asterisk scratched onto it.
Priscilla Kelly
Who put that there!? There's no asterisk! I'm the champ! I won that championship! God fucking dammit!!!
Priscilla lets herself drop from the statue.
Priscilla Kelly
Beefton!!!
Beefton
Please don't hit me with another bottle Miss Kelly!
Priscilla Kelly
A delivery should be coming today, keep an eye out. It's a big one, when it's here unpack it and take it to the main room.
Beefton
Alright Miss Kelly, will do!
Priscilla Kelly
Anyway, come on Maeve.
Priscilla heads down the pathway towards the main gate, where the car awaits with Big Guard Bill sat inside. Maeve looks back at Beefton one last time, and gives a small, forced smile.
Maeve
I'll umm- give it some thought what we can do, okay?
Beefton
Awesome! It can be as hot and sweaty as you want it to be!
Maeve
Oh it will be… which is not at all.
Beefton shoots a finger gun at Maeve, winking at the same time. She turns away from him, shaking her head, as she follows after Priscilla. The two move towards the car that sits at the end of the driveway, climbing inside the back seat to be greeted by a warm smile from Big Guard Bill, wearing his chauffeur cap that is not a mandatory part of the uniform.
Big Guard Bill
Let's get this Buddy Boy rolling!
And the drive begins, Bill smiling merrily as he listens to his podcast in the front seat, as Priscilla looks out of the window with her brow furrowed, clearly irritated. Maeve looks quite awkward as she sits next to her, twiddling her thumbs.
Priscilla Kelly
What were you and Beefton talking about?
Maeve
Oh… the umm- the umm- me and Beefton what?
Priscilla Kelly
You and Beefton yeah.
Maeve
Ghosts.
Priscilla Kelly
Ghosts?
Maeve
Ghosts.
Maeve gulps as Priscilla eyeballs her.
Maeve
Beefton thinks he saw a ghost! Pfft, right? I told him, that's ridiculous Beefton ya… ya silly idiot you!
Priscilla Kelly
Oh well I dunno it could be the old tenants. Kinda old looking couple. They were confederates though don't worry about it.
Maeve
Don't worry about what?-Priscilla what does that mean-
Priscilla grunts as she looks down at her phone, still no text back. It's at this moment that she finally focusses enough on the podcast being listened to by Big Guard Bill, and she suddenly looks even more pissed off.
Priscilla Kelly
Bill! Is this the Raging Dead Podcast?
Big Guard Bill
Oh yeah. You don't like the guy? I quite like how he-
Priscilla Kelly
No I don't fucking like the guy. He's the only thing stopping me from having the best win-loss record in the company! Which technically I'd already have by the way, if I didn't just CHOOSE to have Albert place Chuck Baretta on top of Max Ironside for the pin in that tag match yonks ago. I could've very easily had that win! I do have the best win loss record in every which way except written on fucking paper! And of all the people to contend with me, it's THAT dusty old cunt? Who's only presence is through his sucky podcast? How can you listen to that dull shit? I'd have a funner time getting fucked by Mark Zuckerberg! And Raging Dead!? That's his name!? Did he come up with it when he was 11 years old? I think that's what Lucas has called his fucking Runescape character!
Big Guard Bill
Does little Lucas have Runescape? I'll add him.
Maeve
Bill let Priscilla finish.
Big Guard Bill
Alright.
Priscilla Kelly
They accuse me of not doing 'real wrestling', well at least I put in fucking effort! I may have my own 'unique' style that some daft fucks don't agree with, but at least I'm passionate! At least I haven't just coasted since the first week, talking more about what's going on in other irrelevant companies than the one that actually matters. No one is following your career Dead, not any more you fucking fossil, your fans are either dead or riddled with fucking amnesia. I don't know if it's the age, or the career gone by of taking hits to the head, but something is stopping him from realising… there's only one federation you should be focussing on right now Raging Dead, and it's the one with Priscilla fucking Kelly in it.
Priscilla finishes her rant, red faced, before looking down at her phone again. Still no text. She throws her phone into the air, letting it bounce around the car before sliding under a seat. Bill and Maeve sit rather awkwardly, the podcast still playing.
Big Guard Bill
Do you want me to turn off the podcast or is it okay-
Priscilla Kelly
Obviously I want you to fucking turn it off Bill!
Big Guard Bill
Alright!
Bill quickly switches it off, and the car falls into a nasty silence. They drive onwards down the road, not a word being said by any of them. Priscilla's still red face looks out of the window, at the sights zooming by her, forgetting a time lately when she didn't feel agitated. When she didn't feel angry.
She deserved to be on top of the AWF. Why did she not feel like she was? Why did she not feel like the most destructive force in wrestling right now? She should be.
She should be.
Priscilla looks down at her title belt. The glistening gold reflecting in her eyes. Why is this not enough?
Taking down Raging Dead is what she needed. No more nay-sayers. No more questions of her dominance. With a veteran like him defeated at her feet, she'd truly have the world by its balls.
Priscilla sits in the back seat, looking morosely out of the window at the passing buildings. Maeve sits awkwardly next to her, though the harsh silence the car was once in is gone now, as the not all very self aware Big Guard Bill is speaking loudly.
Big Guard Bill
So Miss Kelly, I was thinking, of course, with the loss of Hugh and Steve, god rest their souls, I figured it'd be me taking over as head of security right? I just- I've worked for you for a while now, and I'm the most senior member of staff so, I just sorta figured that'd be the natural progression. And boy do I have some plans. So first of all, Denny's. Just throwing it out there, think we should have one. Now this next one is technically not a security manner but- I'm thinking. Arby's. Think we should have one. Now this next one-
Priscilla Kelly
Bill. You're not becoming Head of Security.
Big Guard Bill
Oh? I'm… I'm not. That's, -who? Who will be? Is it Gabe? Cos Gabe talks about you behind your back Priscilla he does. He says you've got a really long neck. Now those are Gabe's words not mine and I'm not saying you should fire him but-
Priscilla Kelly
It's not Gabe, Bill. I'm bringing in someone new, from the outside. An old friend. That's where we're headed now actually.
Big Guard Bill
Oh… oh. So I'm- I'm driving you to pick up the guy who's gonna bypass me to the top. Alright. Cool. Cooooooooool.
Priscilla Kelly
There a problem Bill?
Big Guard Bill
Noooope. Nope. No there is not.
Bill narrows his eyes, trying his best to keep his emotions buried within, as his knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel tighter.
Maeve
So that's where we're headed. Who is it?
Priscilla Kelly
That's for me to know, and S2 to find out!
Maeve just stares at a smiling Priscilla, confused.
Priscilla Kelly
Just realised that joke doesn't really work unless you know the guy. His name is S2.
Big Guard Bill
S2? The Scientist!? You mean S2 like the letter S and the number 2?
Priscilla Kelly
Yes Bill. He used to be Ron Killings' old bodyguard, back in our days at PWD when I was still Sp!t. Great guy.
Maeve
Why do they call him the Scientist?
Priscilla Kelly
He got a B in GCSE Science.
Maeve
I got an A.
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah but don't mention that to S2. He's really proud of the B.
Maeve nods slowly.
Big Guard Bill
Oh yeah… me and S2, we go way back! Went to Security School together actually. Oh… those were the days.
A flashback initiates, showing a much younger Big Guard Bill in Security School. He is being wedgied by a letter jacket wearing S2, who is surrounded by his jock friends, before throwing Bill into a nearby locker.
The flashback ends, and Bill has tears in his eyes.
Big Guard Bill
And now he'll be my boss! Boy oh boy!
A tear rolls down his cheek. Priscilla looks out of the car window, as they pull up to a small nearby house.
Priscilla Kelly
Here we are. Pull up here Bill.
As the car pulls up, Bill sucks up his emotions and acts the chauffeur as he opens the door for both Priscilla and Maeve to get out of the car. Suddenly, a phone buzzes from within the car. Priscilla turns to Maeve.
Priscilla Kelly
That yours?
Maeve
No mine's on me.
Priscilla turns to Bill, who holds up his own phone. Then it dawns on her. It's hers. She remembers how she threw her phone randomly across the car.
She's getting a text.
She screams and turns back to the car.
Priscilla Kelly
Bill get in that fucking car now and find my phone!
Bill dives head first into the car, rooting around under the seats before finding the phone and throwing it to Kelly. She catches it, before her wide, smiling eyes rest on the phone screen, expecting to see a text back from Orange Cassidy.
Instead, multiple texts have come through from an unknown number.
They read;
'H
HRY
HEY
FAT FINGERS LOL'
Priscilla snarls.
Priscilla Kelly
Who the fuck is this?
'THIS IS AUSTIN
STONE COLD'
Priscilla Kelly
Oh fuck off you gotta be kidding me. This asshole?
Maeve
Who is it?
Priscilla Kelly
Stone Cold Steve Austin.
More texts come through;
'SAW YOUR DIGITS IN BRETS LITTLE BLACK BOOK THOUGHT ID SAY HI
I MEANT THE RECORDS BOOK
AUTOCORRECT LOL'
Priscilla sighs as she lets her hand lower. She looks at her company, before looking at the house behind her, and speaks in a defeated tone.
Priscilla Kelly
Let's go chat to S2.
As the trio head up to the main door, Priscilla's phone buzzes the whole time.
CUT TO
Priscilla and Maeve sit on a rather comfortable looking sofa, smiles on their faces, as Big Guard Bill stands at the wall behind them. Across from them, sat in an armchair, sits the Scientist himself, S2. A large dark skinned whale of a man, taking up the whole chair that he sits in, as he makes light work of a Triple Whopper in his hands, spilling sauce down his custom made letter jacket with S2 imprinted on it. Once this Whopper has been completely devoured, he reaches into his pocket, and lifts out another.
S2
Well Prissy-Cat, it is good to see you again after all these years!
Priscilla Kelly
Love to see you too S2, it's really great to see you looking so… healthy.
S2
Thank you, I lost 3 pounds.
Maeve
When did you last see each other?
Priscilla Kelly
2013.
Maeve
Oh! Right.
Priscilla's phone buzzes. She grunts as she looks down at the text coming through. Steve Austin is still clogging up her phone;
'NO WOMAN ASPARAGUS
AH SHIT
SORRY LOL
FOR MY WIFE'
Priscilla grimaces at these texts. The Scientist has noticed Big Guard Bill, and chuckles.
S2
Well well well, if aint little Billy Buttertoes. Not seen you since Security School!
Bill becomes immediately embarassed. Maeve looks confused.
Maeve
Buttertoes? How did that nickname come about?
Big Guard Bill
It's not a nickname that is my actual surname.
Maeve
Oh. Wow. Unfortunate. Priscilla you have very weirdly named guards.
S2
Oh we had some fun didn't we Buttertoes! Remember that time where you used to write poems to that one girl, what was she called, Shalikah?
Big Guard Bill
That was her name yes.
S2
Oh it was hilarious. We found them, and scanned them, and put them all over the school. Oh he was bullied for how long? Weeks? Months? Years?
Big Guard Bill
To this day actually I still get bullied for that.
S2
Really!? Hilarious. Truly hilarious. I did that. I caused that pain.
S2 chuckles as he sits back, seemingly filled with pride. Maeve looks from the teary eyed Bill, trying his hardest to keep his composure, to the laughing S2 who's mouth engulfs another whole whopper, a look of disgust on her face. She turns to Priscilla, who still looks at her phone. New texts have since come through;
'HOWS PRINCE ALBERT THESE DAYS?
BET HES A REAL PAIN IN THE DICK
GET IT?
LOL'
Maeve
Priscilla…
Priscilla Kelly
Yes! Sorry!
Priscilla faces her phone down, ignoring the insistent vibrating, as she looks back up at S2 with a smile.
Priscilla Kelly
I am here S2, to offer you a job.
S2
Fuck yeah.
Priscilla Kelly
I want you as my new Head of Security. It will be very high paying, you will get many ludicrous perks, and you can boss around the rest of the security staff all you like!
Bill whimpers. S2 chuckles.
S2
Sounds good to me Prissy-Cat. I'm in.
Priscilla Kelly
Great!
S2
Under one condition. I get to go back into the ring too.
Priscilla Kelly
Hmm?
S2
I've been keeping my eye on AWF! I know what's going on there! It's been getting me back into the mood. I want to be between those ropes again!
Priscilla Kelly
Alright alright… well, there's a tag team tournament coming up. I can see what my little doggy Prince Albert has to say about the two of you teaming up and getting involved? And trust me, if I want him to say yes, he will!
S2
Sounds perfect.
And with that, S2 takes another munch of yet another Whopper. Priscilla grunts as her phone vibrates another few times, prompting her to look down at it. More Austin texts.
'SHIT SON DID YOU SEE JEFF?
DWAYNE OWES ME TEN BUCKS TOLD HIM THAT SHIT IN 98'
S2 looks over at Maeve.
S2
Well ain't you a pretty little thing. What's your name?
Maeve sighs. Not another one.
Maeve
Maeve… Shiliko.
S2
Shiliko? Hey! That sounds a lot like Shalikah! Wasn't that the bitch you were after with your poetry Buttertoes!
Big Guard Bill
You know it was. We just discussed this.
S2
I know! I just love bringing it up!
S2 looks back at Maeve, and bites his lip.
S2
Well well well Maeve Shiliko, I do love a little Asian persuasion I must say. You already someone's plaything or are you… open for business?
Maeve
Excuse me?
S2
You heard, sweet thang. Thing you've caused me to come down with a little bit of the... yellow fever!
Maeve
What the fuck. What is it with you people?
S2
Don't get touchy now miss.
Priscilla isn't even listening to this argument ensue, as her phone continues to vibrate in her hand. She looks down at the barrage of texts coming through, and her face turns redder and redder.
'HEY
HEY
YOU THERE?
PRESCELLA
PRESCELLA
HEY
HEY!'
Priscilla Kelly
Holy fuck!
Everyone turns to the suddenly very openly agitated Priscilla, but she cares none, she has just had enough, and as a new text comes through, she thumbs it quickly bringing her to the reply screen, punching in her text aggressively. Upon being happy with the words 'HOLY FUCK SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU DUMB FUCKING ANNOYING FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!', she hits send, and throws down her phone.
The other three members of the room look at her, Maeve especially who puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
Maeve
Everything alright Priscilla?
Priscilla Kelly
It's Steve Austin! He won't stop fucking texting me!
Her phone buzzes again, and she picks it up and looks at it. Austin is still messaging through, seemingly oblivious to her last message, cursing him out.
'HELLO
PRESCELLA
HELLOOOOO
YOU THERE'
Priscilla looks furious.
Priscilla Kelly
What is fucking with this guy!? Why is he still texting me!? Did he even get my text-
Priscilla switches onto the message screen to Stone Cold, scrolling up to see if he even acknowledged her message to him.
But she can't even find it.
She raises an eyebrow, confused. Did her message actually send? What just happened? Where is it? She could've sworn she sent it, but it doesn't seem to have gone through to Stone Cold.
And in that moment, she gets a text through from Orange Cassidy.
The text reads; 'Oh. Feels unnecessary.'
With her heart in her throat, Priscilla clicks over onto the message thread with OC.
And there it is. The text meant for Austin telling him to shut the fuck up sits in the thread with Orange, below his response of 'Who is this?' sent to her just moments ago. Quickly she realises that she must've clicked that text as it came through without realising, bringing her onto this thread instead of the one with Austin. She was just so caught up she didn't realise. She gulps as her eyes go wide.
Priscilla Kelly
Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!
Maeve
Everything okay?
Priscilla Kelly
No! No! No it isn't! Oh shit! Well I mean- he doesn't know it's me right?
Another text comes through, again from Orange;
'Is this Priscilla?'
Priscilla screams and hurls her phone at the wall, shattering it immediately. Maeve looks shocked.
Maeve
What is going on Priscilla?
Priscilla Kelly
Oh fuck! Fuck! FUCK! That mother fucker Steve Austin! That dumb as fuck, bald as fuck, dumb bald fucker! Fuck him!
Priscilla turns to S2, wide eyed and furious.
Priscilla Kelly
S2! You start tomorrow! Okay!?!?
S2
Okay! Okay yeah!
S2 seems slightly intimidated in his chair.
Priscilla Kelly
Alright! Well that's the day done! Time to go! Bill start up the fucking car!
Bill nods, running out of the house towards the car. Priscilla follows after him quickly, with Maeve in hot pursuit, until a wolf whistle stops her.
S2
Hey Shiliko!
Maeve reluctantly stops and turns.
S2
See you tomorrow.
And with that, he winks.
Maeve
Have a heart attack and die.
S2 is shocked at the sudden retort, before Maeve slams the door behind her. S2 sits in his chair, pondering on these words.
S2
I actually might have a heart attack and die that's fucked up.
And with that, he takes a bit of yet another burger, as we fade out and into commercial.
Raging Dead sits on top on top of a square tombstone, gazing out over rows upon rows of tombstones. It's just before dusk and the mood is almost peaceful. As he turns to the camera, he falls backwards and crashes onto the ground. He yells out in pain as a group of men rush over to help him up. He feels the back of his head, and there's enough blood to make him worry.
Raging Dead
Damnit! Here I was going to do this cool promo about lost souls and junk… and now Imma need stitches!
One man rushes out of the scene to find a first aid kit as the rest help him sit down on a bench. He looks at the camera.
Raging Dead
I was going to take time to properly address my minions.
He points at all the men, who have the same creepy whiteface that he does.
Raging Dead
These are my Denizens of the Grave: Raging Fred, Raging Ted, Raging Zed, Raging Ed, Raging Edd.
The five men wave nervously. The sixth man returns with the first aid kid.
Raging Dead
And this guy… his name is Tim. Luckily he's a paramedic. We ran out of names that rhyme… and my middle name is Ned… so that's off limits. Tim is a good kid. They're all good kids. Anyway… my plan was to do this long, dark speech about how I'm going to obliterate the AWF World's Champion Priscilla Kelly… and then absorb her lifeforce. It was going to be really spooky and I was going to have my buddy Erik edit all kinds of smoke and stuff. But you know what… forget it. It's ruined now because I can't keep my balance on top of a tombstone. What a weird thing to worry about in hindsight. But, hey, I'm only human.
He laughs and then stops to stare at his followers. Then they all laugh.
Raging Dead
I don't really know what I'm doing anymore. My head is not in the game and I feel like AWF is only getting a shell of the man I once was. Maybe I tried to do too much at once. It's been the better part of a decade since I've worked this hard. Now… maybe I'm in over my head. Maybe I came in too hot. I flunked out of two tournaments and now I've got a match against the one who shocked the world by becoming AWF World's Champion. I don't mean to take away from her accomplishment. I am just still surprised that Max Ironside is not the face of this company. He had the makings of a true champion and then… at Gold Rush… he lost.
Tim finishes stitching up the back of his head.
Raging Dead
Now that Priscilla Kelly is the face of this company… I couldn't be happier to have this upcoming match against her. It's my chance to not only protect my record here in AWF… but I get the chance to show the world that I've still got it. Sure, she's fierce… and she's got Prince Albert in a can… BUT I'M THE RAGING DEAD! I've held more World Championships than Priscilla has years on this planet! I've proven an immeasurable amount of times why I belong in this business! I've beaten more World Champions than she can scramble eggs with!
He pauses, realizing that didn't quite connect.
Raging Dead
My head hurts. My back hurts. My hip hurts. Everything hurts. But when I'm in that magical land between the ropes… it's almost euphoric. My soul leaves my body and watches from above as my body does unspeakable things to other bodies. Next up is Priscilla Kelly. I knew a Priscilla once. Everyone called her Prass. Can I call you Prass, Prass? No? Okay, cool. So, Prass… you've got a shiny target on your back… or around your waist… or however you carry that championship. In this match next week in Houston… you've got nothing to lose… but I have everything to gain. A win against you likely puts me in a favorable position to challenge for your championship sooner than later. On the flipside… a loss to you doesn't really mean anything for either of us. So… it's best for everyone if I am victorious.
He stands up and strolls through the cemetery with his denizens following closely behind.
Raging Dead
Imagine… if you will… a world where nobody is qualified to step up to Priscilla Kelly and present a formidable challenge to her throne. She will not be able to grow as a champion if there is nobody to push her to the known or unknown limits of her abilities. What I'm saying is… if she beats me in Houston… there's nobody left to test if she is truly the champion that AWF deserves. It is my duty to push her to the edge and see if she is strong enough to fight her way back. If there's anyone built for the job… it's me. Unfortunately I have to worry about outside interference from Prince Albert.
He stops and looks at the camera.
Raging Dead
I am not intellectually advanced enough to even begin to understand their relationship. She is his master and he is her slave? I don't get it… but… hey… it's their lives. Who am I to judge? I've gotten enough weird looks for my own relationship. See… my wife Sara was maybe a year old when I started training to be a pro wrestler. I was maybe fifteen… and her mom was a mentor of mine. My trainer was the man who would eventually be her stepdad. I watched Sara grow up… and we were friends all of her life. Around the time she became of age… I was the one training her to be a pro wrestler. Nothing weird happened. Nothing inappropriate. Our relationship didn't even morph into anything romantic until 2012. She was 23. I was 38. From an outside perspective… yeah… I can see how it might seem creepy. It was hard for her stepdad to understand. Once he could separate his feelings about us… and see us as two consensual adults… then it was easier for him to come to terms with.
He pauses, and has a distant look in his eyes.
Raging Dead
I don't know where I was going with that.
Tim
Something about Prince Albert.
Raging Dead
Oh yeah. I have to look out for whatever weird shit he does out there during our match. He's unpredictable and yet nothing that comes from him should be much of a surprise. They've made it very clear that he's willing to do anything to help Priscilla Kelly. I need to be prepared to fight them both. That's where you come in, my Denizens of the Grave. Fred, Ted, Zed, Ed, Edd, Tim… you all need to be waiting in the shadows… for your cue to avenge me… in case things go sideways.
Tim
What's our cue?
Raging Dead
You'll know.
Tim
But how will we know?
Raging Dead
YOU'LL KNOW!
Tim
Sorry.
Raging Dead
It's okay, Tim. You're new to this job. You are bound to make mistakes. Mistakes are opportunities for learning. Lord knows I've made enough mistakes in this lifetime… but I'm still learning. I'm still growing. I'm still challenging myself every day. This match with ol' Prass… this will be a challenge I've anticipated since arriving here. Not so much that SHE is the challenge… but I knew that one day I would get close to the AWF World's Championship. This isn't how I planned on doing it from the start… but it'll do. If this is as close as I get to that shiny marvel… then so be it. If Prass is able to defeat me… then she truly deserves to be AWF World's Champion. From then on… I believe she'll be untouchable. For now… she is just as human as me. She is as fallible as me. She is full of the same piss and vinegar as me. She is full of---
The sound of Dance Monkey by Tones and I is heard in Raging Dead's pocket.
Tim
Your phone is ringing.
Raging Dead
I hear that, Tim.
He pulls the phone out and answers while on speaker phone. It is his lovely wife Sara.
Raging Dead
Hi, honey. You're on speaker phone with the boys.
Sara
Of course I am. Are you going to be home soon?
Raging Dead
Soonly, yeah. I'm finishing up a promo for AWF.
Sara
You said you were going to work with them on their promos, not have them around for yours.
Raging Dead
I needed denizens though. And they---
Sara
Please tell me you don't have them doing whiteface in a cemetery!
He nervously looks at the boys, shaking his head.
Raging Dead
No. Of course not.
He winks at the boys.
Sara
Good. Well… when you're done… stop by your office. A package came for you today. It's a prototype for your new action figure.
Raging Dead
I haven't had one since 2014. And that one had a suit on. How does it look?
Sara
You really think I would open it?
Raging Dead
Yes.
Sara
Okay. Well, I did open it… and it's fantastic! They really nailed your droopy eyes.
Raging Dead
Gee thanks!
Sara
I love you!
Raging Dead
I know.
Before they can properly say goodbye, his phone loses signal.
Raging Dead
This has been happening a lot lately. Spring and T-Mobile are merging or something.
Tim
Or it's because we're in a cemetery.
Raging Dead
That could be. Okay, guys. Let's finish the video. Look tough, boys. In three… two…
He snarls at the camera like an angry deadboi.
Raging Dead
Priscilla Kelly… I hope you enjoy these last few slumbers. At PrimeTime… your living nightmare begins as soon as that opening bell rings. Whatever you've got planned… make sure you have a dozen backup plans. I'll be ready for anything and everything you throw at me… including your gimp oaf Prince Albert. My Denizens of the Grave will be waiting impatiently to gangbang him and---
He slaps his forehead.
Raging Dead
Not gangbang. Never gangbang. Damnit! Let's call it a day, guys. I need to rest. My head is killing---
He passes out cold as the scene fades to black.
Fade back in, to Mark Beverly having taken center-ring.
Mark Beverly: The following bout is the first-hour main event of the evening! Set for one fall!
Unlike the previous weeks, in this odd town of Houston does Raging Dead get a mixed response closer akin to what he received in the first week of AWF’s young history. Donning the usual trenchcoat entrance, Dead takes the time to appreciate the reception before rubbing the back of his head and advancing down the ramp.
Mark Beverly: Introducing first, from Ozone Park, New York, weighing two hundred eighteen pounds -- RAAAAAAAGING! DEEEEEEEAD!
Before he can even finish his in-ring entry:
The sight of Raging Dead peering over his shoulder with a certain appearance of disbelief.
Cut to the stage, and Priscilla Kelly coming out on the shoulders of not just Prince Albert, but of the massive S2. At about 500 pounds, her new head of security could surely handle the operation on his own, just as Albert has for weeks, but this week it is a three-way-affair. Over her shoulder is the luxurious AWF World’s Champion, made even more of a pretty sight by the lights in the arena.
Cut to Raging Dead who has offered a full direct stare, darting between S2, Prince Albert, and the champion herself. A sly smirk, a chuckle, then a point.
Raging Dead: Which one this week, Kelly? Huh, who’s fighting your battles?
Mark Beverly: And his opponent, from Moon Creek, Georgia, weighing one hundred fourteen pounds -- she has the distinction of being the first AWF World’s Champion: PRRRRRISCILLA! KELLLLLLLLLLYYYYYY!
As the trio moves closer, Dead takes a smart step backwards, before taking into the ring. Once inside, his gaze reattaches immediately, not letting up on the force that approaches him. Is it intimidation? No. Never, not after three decades. Much the opposite: wisdom and assessing.
Priscilla’s expression seems annoyed, the falsehood in her smirk clear and obvious to anyone who has seen one of her genuine smiles. Carefully, she slides from her post upon the shoulders, and takes her time up the steps into the ring, walking right up to Raging Dead, face to face.
Priscilla Kelly: That would be me.
She blows a sarcastic kiss as S2 and the Prince get behind her and lift her inside the ring. They turn her to the hard camera so that she may pose with her championship.
Her arm drops right as she was beginning to raise it, her face not even trying to feign away from annoyance.
Cut to the stage, where Austin doesn’t take long, looking even more annoyed than her. That finger point, this time right to the champion.
Commissioner Austin
Hey, CHAMP! What? You don’t gotta phone? What? You can’t answer me? What? STONE COLD? WHAT?!
The man can’t be right in the head, nearly foaming at the mouth by the end of the sentence.
Commissioner Austin
You think that’s funny? What? You think ignoring Stone Cold is funny?
Cut to Priscilla who simply takes a page out his book, with a nonchalant middle finger.
Cut to Austin, eyes wide and in shock.
Commissioner Austin
WHAT?! You think that’s FUNNY?! This is funny: you got a championship defense next week, don’t you?
Cut to Priscilla, who squints in suspicion.
Commissioner Austin
And Stone Cold got all the power. Laugh at this:
Austin leans into his microphone.
Commissioner Austin
Steel. Cage.
The shit-eating grin returns.
Cut to Priscilla whose initial look of anger flashes into her own shit-eating grin, then just another flip off.
Cut to Austin, whose grin has disappeared quickly.
Commissioner Austin
Oh, you just don’t get it, do you? Well I got one better: whether you win next week or lose and get your rematch at the pay-per-view…
Cut to Priscilla, whose head tilts to the side and nostrils begin to flare.
Commissioner Austin
Elimination. Chamber.
Priscilla Kelly: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME YOU DIRTY BALD BASTARD FUCK?!
A yelp of frustration emanates out of the woman, but when she turns and is met with a stiff swinging elbow to the face, she’s shut up and dropped to the mat.
Ding!
Immediately, as if inspired by the man leaving the stage as we speak, he plants her seated in the nearest corner and proceeds to stomp a proper mudhole wherever the boot will land best, then takes a run to the turnbuckle then returns to smoosh Kelly between himself and the turnbuckle with a rolling senton! He’s right back as Priscilla body limps to having just her neck up against the bottom-most pad. He’s charging again: double knees squishing her head against the mat!
Groggy, she sneaks under the bottom rope where Prince Albert is there to meet her. Dead smartly steps back so that he can guarantee a good view of all three participants, S2 having flanked the other side of the ring. S2 grabs for the top rope, but it takes him a decent while to pull himself up fully thanks to his sheer size. Dead is quick to charge him, but S2 dodges the move.
Priscilla is back in the ring and comes behind with a grip of the tights for a schoolboy!
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
KICKOUT
Both are back up fast, but Priscilla spins around his legs and hooks him up with another schoolboy! This time she steadies her feet on the middle rope!
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
TW--
Dead pushes back on his shoulders on the get up and Priscilla’s rushing in -- belly-to-belly grab from nowhere! She’s up, over his head, and across the apron! She gets up as fast as she can, but a perfect vertical dropkick drops her again! To the turnbuckle she goes for recovery-- he’s from behind with the Olympic Slam! Off the ropes, Dead’s on a goddamn rally, back down with a Low-Ki style elbow drop!
Christian Cage: Dead just gave her a quick 101!
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
TW--
She sits up on the kickout, but he takes that advantage to lock her in a chicken-wing! His grip is mighty, and he does just about anything to stretch those shoulders the wrong way! She sits in this hold for at least a minute and half, as each time she tries to swing or roll out, his grip stays firm and the hold turns out worse off for her! One more roll around, but this time his roll back lifts him to his feet -- HE PICKS HER UP AND DOWN OVER HIS HEAD WITH A CHICKEN-WING RELEASE SUPLEX! Devastating looking maneuver, the bridge of it too!
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
TWO!......
KICKOUT
Kelly tries to get up first and fast, but Dead damn near shatters her ankle with a boot! Off the ropes again, but a back body drop! But no, he lands on his feet -- ANOTHER, FAST CHICKEN-WING OVERHEAD SUPLEX! Once more, bridging into the pin!
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
TWO!....
KICKOUT!
Priscilla doesn’t seem quite where she wants to go in her daze, so Dead decides for her, scooping her underneath his legs, pulling her into a powerbomb position (the dirty bitch probably liked that shit too) THEN SENDS HER INTO THE CORNER WITH A BUCKLE BOMB!
Jim Ross: CHRIST ALMIGHTY THE CHAMPION CRUMBLES! But S2, up on the apron again -- my, that’s a big boy, there, Cage. Call that a ‘haus’ - perfect for the Cult of Cunt
Christian Cage: The… What?
Jim Ross: Hard of hearing, boy? The Cult of Cunt.
Christian Cage: The hell is that? And why so much emphasis on ‘cunt’?
Jim Ross: ‘Cause it’s the Cult of Cunt, by dammit, that’s what they call ‘em on Twitter, Priscilla and the Peach.
Christian Cage: You mean Priscilla and the Prince, Ross? She’s not James.
Jim Ross: I’m Jim Ross, bitch!
In the time of their debate, S2 has managed to get onto the apron and draw the entirety of the referee’s attention. As another mudhole is being stomped, Dead suddenly finds himself in the grip of Prince Albert by the head, and he’s suddenly forcing his head repeatedly against the top turnbuckle! Dead glazes over after the fourth shot, but Prince Albert keeps going until whatever wound Raging Dead caused in filming his week’s promo begins to be clearly reopened, as made evident by the blood dripping down the upper back from below the staining hair! With S2 still distracting, Albert is able to grip the lifeless looking body of Dead in a military press then throw him in a back first slam in the middle of the ring! Not quite the Michinoku Driver, as he sends his opponent without moving from his own standing place! Clearly, Albert’s afflictions are growing better -- beware AWF.
As Prince Albert rolls out the ring, so too does S2 find his matter resolved and descends from the apron. Cal Elton turns around only to see Priscilla slowly crawling over towards Dead in the center of the ring, a grip on the back of her neck, but still an attempt to make the journey a sensual looking one.
A devilish smirk comes across her face, and she applies with impressive expertise an anaconda vice! Dead’s left arm barely moves, as his eyes look to be in a totally different place than in Texas with their far-and-away glaze. Over a minute goes by before Priscilla gets annoyed, cinching the hold in even tighter and fiercer than before!
It seems as though Dead’s passing out from the pain! Cal Elton is fast to check, raising the arm to see if it will lifelessly drop.
Cal Elton: ONE!
Another raise then drop.
Cal Elton: TWO!
One more.
Cal Elton: TH-- NO! NO!
Dead stays alive, the rally and the supporting fans helping him to find the spirit to at least kick around and when he does, he finds a leg wrap around the rope!
Priscilla doesn’t even hold the lock, her own neck killing her more than she would likely to let on, but she’s to her feet even despite holding the back of it. One face kick to the face lays Dead flat on his back from his stir. She covers him.
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
TWO!....
SAME LEG ON THE ROPE!
Priscilla Kelly: Oh fuck’s sake.
Kelly rolls to the center of the ring before getting up fast for a rope rebound: baseball slide to the back of Dead’s head as he tries to gather him!
Priscilla Kelly: AH CAL!
Kelly suddenly drops as if something has come over her and her gut. Cal Elton’s attention turns immediately at the sight and he’s to Priscilla like a puppy.
On the outside, Prince Albert grinds a knee in Dead’s face to sandwich his head against it and the arena floor, while S2 stomps around the corner, the most devious smile on his face. With a sick pleasure, the Prince forces a groggy Dead to his feet and into the grasp of S2, who forces with ease the veteran up with a double-handed chokeslam grip. Then he throws him into the steel steps!
Jim Ross: GOOD GOD CAGE! HIS HEAD AGAINST THE STEEL! THE SOUND! THE SOUUUUUND!
At that moment, however, is Prince Albert sent into the steel post! What is this?! It’s Raging Tim!
Cut to the each of the other barricades, where each of the Denizens of the Grave emerge! Despite their rally however, Prince Albert and S2 find themselves on the outside like a couple of action movie starts taking out the rushing and apron-leaping trainers with ease: Raging Tim gets double-chokeslammed right into Dead himself, still slumped in the corner; Raging Fred takes a running headslam into the ringpost from Prince Albert; Raging Edd gets his head sandwiched between a double big boot; Raging Zed gets through against the side of the announce desk, the back of his smacking awkwardly and knocking him clean out; Raging Ed and Raging Ted are in the grasp of S2 as he offers a meeting of the minds!
Jim Ross: They tried.
S2 rolls in Dead, who somehow manages to stir and try to pull himself by this time. In an ‘unexpected’ change of events, Kelly's stomach suddenly feels just fine. To her feet, her walk toward the beaten down and bloody Raging Dead is arrogant, for good reason: never has he looked worse for wear in an AWF arena.
Her hair grab is overexaggerated and slow -- AND SHE PAYS FOR IT AS HE SURPRISES WITH A EUROPEAN UPPERCUT!
It staggers her, but his gut kick bowls her over.
Jim Ross: What’s this now? Oh wait a second, folks!
HE’S SETTING UP FAST! LOOK AT THAT, THE CRADLE PILEDRIVER! DEAD WEIGHT!
Jim Ross: No one’s kicked out of this one yet!
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
TWO!....
ACHOOOOOOOOO!
The count stops as Cal Elton suddenly comes down with the allergies. He looks back, and once he sees an incredulous Raging Dead looking up at him --
Cal Elton: ACHOOOOOOOOO!
Dead is up, angry, despite the grog still having him, getting a double handed, threatening grab of the referee by his shirt and pushing him into the corner.
BICYCLE KICK! ALBERT’S ROLLED IN! BICYCLE KICK TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD AND REFEREE JUST WATCHES IT HAPPEN! CAL ELTON DOES NOTHING!
The body falls, limp, slow, and starfish style. Priscilla blows Elton a kiss, before rolling into an arrogant, lazy leg hook.
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
TWO!....
THREE!
DING DING DING
Houston is having none of this, but Kelly couldn’t give any less of a damn. As she gets up with a grin, it slowly fades, darting a look to the stage, where Austin once was. A holler of anger.
Priscilla Kelly: FUCK! HIM! UP!
Without another cue, S2 and Albert are stomping down on Raging Dead mercilessly, after the match has ended.
Cut to Priscilla, wrapping the title around her shoulder and watching from the corner.
Cut to the hard camera, showing S2 putting Dead in Albert’s grasp: another military press, but this time THE MICHINOKU DRIVER! On impact, her music begins again and she walks to the center of the ring, stepping over Dead’s body before she’s risen on the two shoulders once more.
This time there is no interruption: just the shot of her and her AWF World’s Championship, victorious.
For now.
Priscilla Kelly d. Raging Dead in 11:12
Fade to commercial.
Dyno-Mike sits in a dry cleaners reading a Cosmo magazine.
Dyno-Mike
(mumbling to himself) Maybe I do put my career over men?
Mike shakes his head before throwing the magazine onto the chair by his side. He clears his throat in the manliest way possible and snorts loudly. He winks at a young woman sitting in a few chairs over. She cringes and goes back to her phone. Mike shrugs and begins twiddling his thumbs as he waits.
A woman wearing a pink blouse appears at the other side of the counter holding up a see through plastic clothes bag with Mike’s polo shirt inside.
Woman
Mr.Stroyitch? Your shirt sir.
Mike smiles and takes the bag, admiring the shirt's cleanliness.
Dyno-Mike
Why thank you ma’am. Boy this is so clean it’d almost be a shame d’wear it.
He winks at the woman and chuckles. She blushes, letting out a laugh and begins playing with her hair. The young woman in the waiting area gips sarcastically.
Mike darts a dirty look at her, turning back and smiling at the woman who is entertaining his advances.
Dyno-Mike
So lil’lady how much do I owe you.
Woman
Well… here’s your bill sir.
If Mike’s eyes could pop out of his head they would as he examines the bill.
Dyno-Mike
What the hell?!
Woman
Sir the shirt was in quite the mess -
Dyno-Mike
“Quite the mess” - no shit that’s why I give it too ya!
Woman
Sir, how abouts you pay and leave.
Mike scans his card on the card reader and storms out. Mike speeds off in his pick up truck.
Later…
Mike steps out of his truck in the car park to Black Clyde’s gym with the dry cleaning bill in hand. He kicks open the door and looks around the gym.
Dyno-Mike
Where the FUCK is that slimmy, shirt ruining, roid headed, E’diot Clyde?!?!
The gym falls silent, apart from the sound of a staple gun stapling flyers into a wall, as everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at him. One gentleman next to some free weights raises his hand.
Dyno-Mike
Yes?
Colin
Hi there friend, I’m Colin - from Toronto - I’m one of Clyde’s -
Dyno-Mike
Jesus fuck Colin - this ain’t “Who do you think you are”.
Colin
Sorry, sorry. Erm... he’s gonna be back in forty minutes.
Dyno-Mike
Fuckin shit. I only got ten.
Colin
Well I can take a message for you?
Mike stops and thinks for a second. He looks at the young kid stapling flyers as he’s nearly made his way across the room to where Mike stands. He looks down at his bill and grins cruelly.
Dyno-Mike
Here boy! Wanna come on over for a second.
The boy walks over to him nervously. Mike rubs his head before kneeling down to be eye level with him.
Dyno-Mike
Can I borrow that for jus’ a second now?
The boy hands him the staple gun. Meanwhile Colin stands looking confused. Mike checks the gun then makes his way over to Colin.
Dyno-Mike
So you don’t mind taking that message for me, cause I got places to be?
Colin
Sure thing friend anything to be of help.
Dyno-Mike
Why thank you partner!
Colin
Now just wondering what you got that for -
Without breaking stride, Mike grabs Colin before he can finish speaking by his gym shirt and headbutts him in the face, knocking him out cold to gasps of horror from onlookers. Mike then places the dry cleaning bill onto Colin’s forehead and staples it twice to his skin, throwing him down onto the floor after he’s sure it is secured. Mike marches back to the exit, placing the staple gun in the hands of the boy as he walks past, again not breaking stride.
Mike grunts in satisfaction as he leaves the gym.
We fade back to the ring, as Black Clyde stretches and does his usual exercises, waiting for his opponent to emerge. He looks angry, pumped up, looking to avenge his friend Colin after the trip Dyno-Mike took to his gym. And worse yet, he referred to him as 'Roid-Headed'. If he knew Black Clyde, he'd know he's clean as a whistle, and had never gone near a steroid in his life.
Dyno-Mike's theme hits, and the crowd boo as the cigar chomping Texan emerges from the back, a cruel grin on his face as he looks over at Black Clyde. He reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out a staple gun, shooting it a few times to mock Clyde.
Mark Beverly: Next up, is a SINGLES MATCH, set for ONE FALL! In first, one third of the THREE BIG N...Niihhh…. *ahem*... BLACK CLYDE!!!
The crowd cheer, as Mike shakes his head, starting to move down the ramp to the ringside area.
Mark Beverly: And his opponent, from Dallas, Texas-
But before Beverly can finish the announcement, Black Clyde has charged at the ropes and thrown himself over! He CRASHES into Dyno-Mike with a huge cross body, and the crowd go wild!
Christian Cage: Oh my! Black Clyde kicking us off strong!
Clyde picks up Mike and hoofs him into the ring, watching as the dazed Atomic Texan rolls to a stop in the centre. Clyde is up onto the apron, and then onto the top turnbuckle… Mike turns around…
MISSILE DROPKICK!!! Huge move from the massive Clyde!
Clyde covers Mike!
ONE…
-KICKOUT!
Jim Ross: Just a one count! Phew!
Christian Cage: What do you mean phew? Are you supporting Dyno-Mike here!
Jim Ross: Of course I am! You saw the Bondage Bash! Black Clyde spilled his protein shake down that man's wonderful shirt!
Christian Cage: That was accidental!
Clyde lifts Dyno-Mike to his feet, and backs him into the corner with clubbing blows, before slamming Mike's head a few times into the top turnbuckle. Clyde takes a run up, before charging at Mike…
And clattering into him with a HUGE SPLASH!
Clyde takes another run up… and hits another! He goes for a third… BUT NO! Mike lifts up the elbow, and Clyde is sent tumbling back. Holding his hurt jaw, Mike measures Clyde, and charges at him for a LARIAT!
Clyde ducks! Mike turns around, right into a BIG BOOT! Mike is staggered, tumbling back into the ropes… he bounds back… right into a second BIG BOOT!
Clyde covers Mike once more!
ONE…
TWO-KICKOUT!
Clyde huffs, but plans to get straight back on the offense. He grabs Mike by the head and starts to lift his opponent, but MIKE powers himself up, lifting Clyde into the air!
SPINEBUSTER!!!
Clyde hits the mat hard, clutching at his back, as Mike gives himself a little time to recover as the crowd boo. He moves back over to Clyde, and starts stomping on him aggressively, before lifting him by the waist… and bringing him down with a NASTY GERMAN SUPLEX!!!
Mike wastes no time, lifting Clyde up again, and bringing him down with a SECOND German! And a THIRD! And a FOURTH!!!
He covers Clyde…
ONE…
TWO…
KICKOUT!
Mike gives another nasty stomp to Clyde's head in retaliation to the kickout, before picking him, and planting him down with a FIFTH GERMAN SUPLEX!!! Clyde looks worse for wear, as he lays sprawled across the mat, and Mike looks from the corner to his opponent, and knows what to set up for.
Mike moves over to the corner, and awaits his opponent to get to his feet…
Christian Cage: We've seen this before! We know what he's setting up for here!
Jim Ross: He hits this Spear, this match could well be over!
Clyde is to his feet, and the crowd are screaming for him to not turn around, but alas, he does, and Dyno-Mike charges hungrily…
BUT PROPELS HIMSELF INTO THE AIR! LEAPFROG! Mike goes face first into the middle turnbuckle, before bouncing off into Clyde's arms! He's on the Personal Trainer's shoulders in seconds…
RUNNING POWERSLAM!!! Mike is brought down hard…
ONE…
TWO…
KICKOUT!
The crowd scream in disapproval as Clyde rolls onto his knees, as he ponders on his next course of action. He does a few press ups to get himself amped up, before lifting Mike to his feet, and up onto his shoulders in a Fireman's Carry position!
Clyde moves into the middle of the ring, the crowd cheering in anticipation…
Christian Cage: What's he going for here?
Sadly, we'll never know! Mike wriggles off of Clyde's shoulders, and catches Clyde with a deadly uppercut as he turns to face him! Clyde falls backwards into the ropes, as Mike bounds off of the ropes on the other side…
The pair meet in the middle…
SPEAR!!! Mike rocks Black Clyde with a VICIOUS SPEAR!!!
Mike wastes no time, and covers Clyde quickly…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
The crowd erupts with boos as Mike rolls off of the motionless Black Clyde, victorious. He grins to himself, as he looks out across the disapproving crowd from his sitting position, pulling a cigar out of his pocket, lighting it, and smoking it right there in the ring.
Dyno-Mike defeats Black Clyde in 5:03
Mike is up to his feet, wrenching his arm away from the referee as he tries to raise it. Mike just stays staring at the downed Black Clyde, and anger starts to fill his eyes once more.
Dyno Mike: If you ain't paying my laundry bill with money, you'll pay it with pain!
He moves over to Clyde, and lifts him to his knees, before grabbing the cigar out of his mouth, and aiming it at Clyde's eye. The crowd are screaming for Mike to stop, as the fiery orange end of the cigar gets closer and closer to Clyde's open eye, Clyde himself being too weak to overpower Mike and stop this.
But the boos turn to cheers, Mike looks up to the stage, and sees powering out, running towards the ring, is Black Clyde's team members, Ruxx Rampede and Big Homunculus! Mike drops the cigar and rolls out of the ring quickly, as Ruxx and Homunculus are by Clyde's side in seconds. Mike only smiles, as he hops the barricade into the crowd, and slowly with a smile, moves up the stairs towards the fire exit.
The Three Big Niggas watch him leave, appalled from their position in the ring. Mike takes one last look back at them, and after pointing at the trio, brings his thumb across his throat. Ruxx meanwhile, grabs the cigar from the floor, and crushes it in his hand as he glares up at the Atomic Texan. A chortle is returned from Mike, before he finally leaves, the segment fading out on the concerned faces of the Three Big Niggas.
Crossfade into a vignette. We open inside of Calgary International Airport. JT Dunn is sitting on his phone in the waiting area of the airport. Growing more and more agitated by the second.
JT Dunn
Come on... where is this man! He should've been here by now.
? ? ?
Hey...is everything okay?
JT, who was focused on his phone, looks over his shoulder to the left, to see a woman sitting next to him.
JT Dunn
Umm... Yeah, yeah everything's cool... just waiting for a friend. Who should've been here by now.
? ? ?
Yeah. I get that... I'm waiting for one of my friends too. They're coming in from Dayton, have you ever been down that way?
JT then immediately focuses his full attention onto the woman
.
JT Dunn
Yeah, I used to wrestle down there exclusively until about 2016, then my friend got signed to a major wrestling company. So I kinda got left out to dry.
? ? ?
Oh... that sounds unfortunate. Is this the same friend you're waiting for?
JT goes quiet for a second.
JT Dunn
...maybe...
The mystery woman laughs, not laughing at him... but laughing with him.
JT Dunn
You probably think I'm just some massive loser now, don't ya?
? ? ?
Hmmm... nah. I think you have your reasons behind it. This friend of yours must be important to you... I mean, you're sat here... just to wait for him to arrive.
JT smiles. Yeah... Hero is important to him. I mean, he wouldn't be where he is in wrestling without him... Hero is his mentor.
JT Dunn
Yeah... I guess you could say that.
? ? ?
I'm sorry... I never caught your name.
JT smiles again.
JT Dunn
That's 'cause I never threw it out there. I'm Johnny, or JT, whatever you wanna call me really.
? ? ?
Nice to meet you JT. I'm Cait.
Cait extends her hand towards JT, which he accepts and shakes.
JT Dunn
So... this friend of yours... what are they like?
Cait
Well... I've known them for all my life really. She is someone I can talk to for hours upon hours about... absolutely nothing. You know?
JT Dunn
Yeah. I getcha, that's kinda how my friend is for me.
JT looks down at the floor, twiddling his thumbs. Before then looking back at her and asking.
JT Dunn
So... you in Alberta for long?
Cait
Well... I hope so. Don't really want to go home. This place just seems so nice to be around.
JT Dunn
That's fair enough. Alberta is pretty cool... I've only been here a couple weeks and I don't want to leave.
Cait gives a faint smile.
Cait
That's good to hear... not-not to say that I'm happy that you're staying. That wou-would be weird. We've only just met.
JT smiles, before looking back down at his phone at the time. Hero should've been here at least fifteen minutes ago. JT is starting to get worried now... unsure of where he is.
JT Dunn
It's cool, Cait. I get what you mean.
He looks down at his phone again... letting out a sigh. Where the fuck is Chris at? Did he not catch his flight? Did he miss it? Was there a delay he didn't know about?
Cait
This dude must be really important. You haven't stopped checking your phone for the past half hour. Is that... is that you and him as your phone background?
He opens his phone again and looks at the lockscreen... yeah... it's him and Hero doing the signature D.b.E pose (Which is really just a rip off Kings of Wrestling pose... but we won't get into specifics here.)
JT Dunn
Yeah... He trained me. He's my hero really... which is a funny story actually…
Cait
It is?
JT Dunn
Yeah... But you probably don't want to hear it... I feel like I've been talking your ear off for the past fifteen minutes.
Cait gives a soft smile.
Cait
Honestly... I would love to hear it.
JT Dunn
Are you sure? It probably isn't even that funny.
Cait
I am certain of it. I wouldn't be asking otherwise.
JT Dunn
Alright, So...it's because his wrestling name...get this...is Chris H-
Chris Hero
Hero. My wrestling name is Chris Hero.
JT immediately gets out of the seat, giving Hero the warmest of bro-hugs ever seen.
JT Dunn
Dude! I was starting to get worried man. What took you so long?
Chris Hero
I was on the other side of the airport waiting for you. Did you not get my text about the terminal change?
JT checks his phone.
JT Dunn
Oh, no I didn't. Must've not sent yet.
Hero checks his phone.
Chris Hero
Ahh... yeah... it says "Message not delivered". Is that a bad thing?
JT laughs, as much of a Wrestling Genius Hero was. Fuckin' hell he was awful with technology.
Chris Hero
Are you going to introduce me to the lady you were talking to? Or am I just gonna stand here like some awkward third wheel?
JT Dunn
Oh! Yeah for sure!
JT turns back to where Cait is sitting, just looking at her phone now.
JT Dunn
Chris, meet Cait. Cait, meet Chris Hero. My trainer, tag team partner and mentor.
Cait
Lovely to meet you Mr. Hero.
Chris Hero
Now that's a new one. Please, just call me Chris. Anyways, We gotta get going man. We only have two days to train. Get our chemistry back as a team.
JT Dunn
Shit... you're right. We gotta get going.
JT turns to Cait.
JT Dunn
So...it was nice talking to you.
Cait
You too JT...Will I see you again sometime?
JT Dunn
Yeah...I mean... You can catch me on TV on AW-
Before he can finish that sentence, Chris slaps the back of his head. JT realizes what for as soon as Cait starts giggling. JT then opens his phone and hands it to her, Cait adds her number to his contact list then hands it back to him.
Cait
I'll see you soon.
JT Dunn
Yeah... yeah you will.
JT and Cait hug, before Hero starts walking off, Dunn quickly catches up. Only for Hero to slap the back of his head again... for very obvious reasons.
Fade out to commercial.
Fade back into the side of Austin’s face, watching the commercial, a proud smile on his face.
Commissioner Austin
Ain’t nothin’ like some nice meaty Dick’s.
Fade out then into our next scene. We open on a relatively small but nice suburban house late at night, the mailbox outside reads “Annie”. Inside, the house is messy but practical. The walls are clear, but there are patches on the walls from where photos once hung. The house itself is full of patches. Marks on carpets where furniture once was, a table big enough for 5 with only 2 chairs around it. The only decor left is the essential stuff, sofas, wardrobes and each of them looks like the furniture someone much older would choose.
Annie is at the table sat down. On her phone she watches the most recent Boneius match. The sounds of another car pulling up are heard. Barron Boneius walks into the house.
Barron Boneius
Annie, I was a foolish fossil, a feeble frump!
Annie sits at the table quietly
Barron Boneius
I’m sorry.
Annie
(Quietly) I like you Boneius. You have no idea how much I like you, how much I want this to work.
Barron Boneius
I was stupid, what I said was stupid.
Annie
It’s not that, I mean it is, but. I like you because when I talk to you I’m actually talking to you. No games, no tricks, you don’t say what you think I wanna hear and you never pretend to be feeling something you aren’t. You’re just you, and I’m just me. I don’t think you know how rare that is. When you said that stuff, what you said was terrible, but, what hurt, was that suddenly you were just like everyone else. Talking from behind a mask. I can't stand the lies, and I don’t ever want to fall for them again, and I though I was safe from that with you. Now I don’t know.
Boneius stands there in silence. He nods to himself.
Barron Boneius
I should go, Snivley’s waiting outside and he hasn’t eaten since yesterday.
Annie
I don’t care about that.
Barron Boneius
Yeah, neither do I.
Another long pause.
Barron Boneius
If you want me to go, I’ll go.
Annie
I don’t want you to go, I just… if this is going to work –
Boneius sits down on the one other chair next to her. Annie puts her hand on his.
Annie
I need to know that this is you. That if something’s wrong, you’ll tell me, if something changes you’ll tell me, that this, this is real, that you’re just you, and I’m just me.
Boneius places his other hand on hers.
Barron Boneius
I swear it. If I’m lying, I’ll, I’ll, I’ll kiss Snivley.
Annie with a light laugh to herself.
Annie
Wow, I’ll hold you to that.
She takes a moment to sit up.
Annie
When I imagined the first time you came round it certainly wasn’t like this.
Annie sits up even straighter.
Annie
Do you want a drink?
Barron Boneius
I should sleep, I, I haven’t slept much since the party.
Annie
You could, always stay here. Just for a night, then get back to training tomorrow.
Boneius smiles
Barron Boneius
One night.
Montage
For this montage the framing remains the same all the way through and plays to the tune of Bill Ryder-Jones - Don't Be Scared, I Love You. As each scene changes the month on the calendar goes forward one. No other sounds are heard other than the song.
January 2020
Boneius is in the kitchen cooking, badly, but trying. Annie comes down in a t-shirt and laughs, before going up and hugging him.
February 2020
Annie is gesturing to a new photo frame hung on the wall. Most of the photos are empty except a couple of the two of them. Annie looks proud as Boneius looks at it with joy. (As each month passes the photo wall grows busier and busier)
March 2020
Boneius walks in with a box of clothes and items from the cave. Annie takes the box from him and carries it out of frame. Boneius looks after her, with a big smile.
April 2020
Annie opens the door as Leslie, Koltov, and Snivley all walk into the hallway for a dinner party. Everyone is dressed smartly. Boneius walks over and takes their coats and gestures them to the kitchen where some wine glasses are out.
May 2020
Annie is asleep at the kitchen table, with an open laptop and some medical textbooks open in front of her. Boneius sees her like this and walks out of frame, only to return with a blanket and place it over her.
June 2020
Annie and Boneius are struggling to carry a large new wardrobe into the house.
July 2020
Annie and Boneius are looking out the window. We can see the light of fireworks outside flashing.
August 2020
Boneius and Annie are stood looking at the photo wall, hand in hand. Annie rests her head on his shoulder.
September 2020
Boneius, Annie, Koltov, and Leslie are stood in the kitchen cheering as Leslie pops a bottle of champagne. A sign overhead reads, “Season 2 Greenlit”
October 2020
Boneius helps Annie to carve a pumpkin, ghost style, guiding her hands from behind.
November 2020
Annie runs in and jumps into an embrace with Boneius. She breaks away and shows him a new name tag, “Chief Nursing Officer”.
December 2020
The house is decorated for Christmas, a collection of friends are walking around drinking when Boneius and Annie run in dressed as Santa.
January 2021
Annie walks in to see Boneius stood still with his hands behind his back. She embraces him and feels the object clasped behind him in his hands. They look at each other the entire time as she feels the object, a box, she opens the box behind his back and feels a ring. She nods as they both start to well up.
February 2021
Boneius and Annie are sat at the table with a collection of folders on venues and food options, they are showing each other various items.
March 2021
The table is piled high with folders, Boneius and Annie are sat trying cake, Boneius gets some icing on his lips and Annie reaches over and wipes it of.
April 2021
Boneius has a huge stack of invites in hand and is walking for the door. Annie rushes over and places one more on top before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek as he leaves.
May 2021
Leslie walks into the house. She walks into the kitchen and immediately starts jumping with joy. Annie walks into frame in a wedding dress. Leslie runs up and embraces her.
June 2021
Boneius, Koltov, and Snivley are all stood in the kitchen trying on suits. Boneius pats Snivley on the shoulder, crouches down to his level, and fixes the little man's tie.
July 2021
At night, the house is dark when Boneius walks in with Annie in his arms, him in his suit, her in her dress. The two kiss. (The photo wall is overflowing, with images now, most not even in frames, just attached to the outside)
August 2021
Boneius walks into the house to see Annie sat at the table. He slowly walks over, she looks up at him and smiles as she takes his hand, and then places it on her belly.
September 2021
Annie and Leslie walk past carrying a large crib while Boneius is sat at the table with a stack of books on parenting.
October 2021
Boneius has Snivley in his arms like a baby, practising holding him. Annie is moving his arms showing him how to do it properly.
2:34 in the song
November 2021
At night Boneius comes home to see Annie sat at the table crying. He stands and looks at her for a moment. She looks up at him. Boneius shakes his head then rips the photo wall down, throwing it across the room in rage.
December 2021
At night, we can see snow outside. Boneius and Annie are both just sat at the kitchen table. Both with a glass in front of them and a bottle of drink on the table.
January 2022
Same as December except without the snow, and now only Boneius sits at the table. Annie walks past in work gear, she looks at him them leaves.
February 2022
The same scene.
March 2022
The same scene.
April 2022
The same scene except for this time Annie doesn’t even look at him as she walks past.
May 2022
Boneius has finished the bottle. He looks up to see Annie leaving. As he moves to get up he cuts his hand on something. He pulls a small piece of the wooden frame from the old photo wall out of his hand. For a long moment, he looks at it.
June 2022
During the day. Annie walks into the house. She doesn’t see Boneius at the table. Slowly she walks through the kitchen and into the room beyond. The frame moves to follow her as she goes into the next room over and finds Boneius, hanging the last frame of a new photo wall. It’s a shock, but a beautiful one. Slowly the two walk towards each other and embrace, then look at the wall of memories for a long moment.
Crossfade, a very gentle one indeed. In a darkly lit room Kolotov walks in, in a suit. Leslie is tied to a chair in a police uniform, glaring at him. The room is empty aside from the chair and a few boxes.
Leslie Jones
You lay a finger on me and–
Kolotov
You’re hardly in a position to bargain.
Kolotov takes out a pistol and points it at her head.
Kolotov
Don’t worry, I’m a busy man, so, let’s skip the banter and get this done fast shall we.
Kolotov cocks the pistol
Kolotov
I dare say this has gone on long enough as it is Jones.
Leslie starts laughing.
Leslie Jones
One problem smart guy...I’m not Jones.
Leslie lashes her head forwards and the perfect Leslie Jones mask being worn flies off to reveal, Barron Boneius. Kolotov jumps back in shock.
Kolotov
But, if you’re here then?!
One of the boxes moves silently behind him. It’s Leslie, curled up in a ball and painted to look like a box. She unfurls and rolls into the centre of the room behind Kolotov and whips out two pistols.
Leslie Jones
Aloha motherfucker.
She pulls the triggers.
Director
AND CUT!
Pan out to reveal the set of the season 1 finale of Hawaii Bone-0
Leslie walks over to Kolotov and slaps him on the back., as crew start to walk into the frame and move things around.
Leslie Jones
Damn K, you killed that!
Kolotov
Really? I thought I was being too soft again you know.
Leslie Jones
Nah man, that was real legit acting right there.
Boneius is out of the chair and on his phone. He shoots fingers guns at the two of them.
Barron Boneius
Still on for the devilishly delightful dinner party?
Leslie Jones
We’ll see you there Boneius, tell Annie I miss her.
Barron Boneius
You saw her yesterday.
Leslie Jones
(With a smile) And, I still miss her.
Boneius walks away. Leslie and Kolotov walk together back to their trailers. Leslie reaches her door and pauses.
Leslie Jones
You heard anything from your brother yet.
Kolotov shakes his head. Leslie can see he’s upset.
Leslie Jones
Hey K, don’t worry about it man.
Kolotov
Everyone keeps telling me I’m better without him, that I should hate him for trying to control me all these years.
Leslie Jones
And what do you think?
Kolotov
I think he did it because he wanted the best for me, I wouldn't be here without him. And I turned my back on him.
Kolotov shrugs
Kolotov
Family stuff I think.
Leslie smiles at him.
Leslie Jones
K, you might be speaking to one of the few people on this planet who actually gets it. SNL was like my family, I spent years working up the courage to leave, and when I did. Man, the moment I did it, straight after, like the second after, I though, that’s it Leslie, you just fucked your whole life up. I still think it some days.
Kolotov nods.
Leslie Jones
I told you I got it.
Kolotov
I miss him.
Leslie Jones
I know K. But you can’t keep being a feature on someone else’s show forever. Only so many times you can prop up a guest host before you gotta step into that light yourself.
Kolotov grins
Kolotov
You certainly give better speeches than him.
Leslie Jones
Now lets hurry up and get to training to see if I fight better than him.
Kolotov nods and opens the door to his trailer.
Kolotov
(Joyfully) I saw the way you fought Chiklis, I’m sure we’ll be fine.
Kolotov enters his trailer. Leslie is left standing there. The world becomes almost totally silent as she looks down at her hands. After a long beat she pulls out her phone, makes sure no one is looking and opens her internet. A tab is already open on an article that reads “The hunt for famed actor Michael Chiklis continues”. Leslie refreshes the page, and the article stays the same. She almost looks disappointed.
Kolotov emerges from his trailer in gym gear.
Kolotov
The competition is weird as hell. Best Friends, Savoir-Faire, The Family. I don’t recognise any of these people.
Leslie snaps out of her trance.
Leslie Jones
Yeah, it’s weird.
Kolotov
Hey, I was thinking, if we’re going to fight together, we need a name right.
Leslie Jones
You got an idea?
Kolotov
I don’t usually do the naming thing, that was always Alaric.
Leslie Jones
Then it’s time to step into the light K, what we calling ourselves.
Kolotov
We...can be...no, we will be....Stand Up Smack Down. Get it, because you do stand up and I do the smacking d-
Leslie Jones
I got it, and man, I like it. So let's go Stand Up and Smack Down some losers!
Fade out on Leslie’s smiling face and in on the arena.
Boos follow Eclipse out from the curtain, but she only allows glaring looks across the arena as any acknowledgement of their disapproval.
Mark Beverly: The following tag team bout is set for one fall! Introducing from Detroit, Michigan, weighing one thirty pounds, this is the SHE-BORG! ECLIPSE!
Her boots stomp heavy on the ramp until she’s made her way ringside.
Cut to the stage.
On the cue… nothing happens.
And nothing happens.
Mark Beverly: And her tag team partner, from Iowa City, Iowa, weighing two hundred sixty five pounds -- THE FIRST! PHIL! GOOOOOODE!
Nothing at all.
The titantron and theme fades out.
The first thirty seconds are filled with a flashy titantron, lights, and camera cuts, but no wrestlers, until the vocals close in at thirty seconds: then, with surefire hype do Chris Hero and JT Dunn emerge from the curtain. They each take their own side of the stage then switch over, basking in the warm reception.
Mark Beverly: And the opponents, at a combined weight of four hundred forty six pounds -- JT Dunn and Chris Hero: DEATH! BY! ELBOW!
Cut to Eclipse, arguing with the referee, likely asking where her partner is.
Cut to Death by Elbow entering the ring on either side from the hard camera. Chris Hero stays on the apron, but JT Dunn enters the ring ready to go. Eclipse turns annoyed at her opponent’s lagging back, but ready to begin the match, ordering referee Sandra Yandel to get it underway.
Ding!
An immediate lockup is engaged by Eclipse & JT Dunn, tossing each other around the canvas, before Dunn finds the perfect opportunity for a side step and dip, bringing her down with a classic belly-to-back wrestling takedown. A waistlock is popped up, then quickly turned into an aggressive side headlock so as to surprise the woman -- though her side headscissors counter seems to shock JT just as much even if only for a moment.
A kip-up goes nowhere, with Eclipse’s legs wrapping a noose-like grip under the chin and behind the head.
Cut to Phil Goode - in his velour sweatsuit - taking a steady, bouncy walk down the ramp then stopping to interact with fans.
Cut to Eclipse, releasing her leglace to approach the ropes nearest the ramp, shouting reprimands at her ‘partner’.
Cut to Phil Goode offering a delayed response, the busty blonde in the front row concerning his attention prior. He offers a ‘one minute’ sort of finger wave, before the same blonde hands him a black Sharpie. She offers up her bosom, of which he takes a goode look, before a nice phil feel -- then decides to write his Twitter handle on her forehead. The camera catches his mouthing ‘DM me.’
Cut to an infuriated Eclipse -- getting rolled up by JT Dunn! Classic schoolboy!
Sandra Yandel: ONE!......
T--KICKOUT
Quick get-up by both -- standing spinning heel kick connects with JT’s jaw!
After his encounter with one lucky fan, Phil Goode continues his deliberate trot down to ringside and wraps around the squared circle. His focus is not on the match at hand but rather the audience and the endless boos directed his way. He refuses to hop on the apron and assist his tag-team partner for the night. Instead, Goode strolls to where the timekeeper is seated and requests a microphone.
Phil Goode
(Pointing at the microphone propped in the announcer’s lap) Could you please pass me the mic?
The announcer is so intimidated that he forgets the microphone is right in front of him and begins looking all over the small designated area.
Phil Goode
(Now pointing with two of his massive fingers) Hey! Airhead, it’s RIGHT THERE. (Struggling to deal with this utter stupidity) Give… get… come… give me the damn microphone you worthless son of a rich bitch. You’re obviously not qualified for this job. (Ramming one more insult into the innocent man’s chest) If your dick wasn’t hibernating, you probably would’ve felt it sitting right there.
Before snatching the microphone out of the announcer’s hand, Phil Goode is sure to send a nasty lougie towards his direction. Once the microphone is in his grasps, Goode violently removes the AWF branded mic flag and throws it into the second row of fans. He assumes his position in front of the lead commentary table and blocks Lance Storm’s line of sight. Goode taps the pop filter and slowly raises the mic to his bearded mouth and speaks…
Phil Goode
(Putting a stop to the action in the ring) Hold it! Hold it! Hold up! STOP THE MATCH. (Long dramatic pause) The Goode guy has something he wants to say.
Everything in the Toyota Center is put to a halt and all eyes are on “The First” Phil Goode. Once again, the stands are covered with Goode's favorite phrase.
Phil Goode
(The crowd knows what’s next and they are ready to join along) FIRST THINGS FIRST… from THE FIRST!
Half of the capacity crowd echoes Goode, the other half boos.
Phil Goode
I would like to wish the commissioner… of all commissioners… Booker T (slight pause into an arrogant grin) a happy, healthy, and wonderful extended vacation. (Spitefully) When you do your job and look out for your employees on a day to day basis, it is only right that you get rewarded. I’m hoping that he takes this time to relax with his beautiful wife Sharmell, he certainly deserves it.
Christian Cage: What is he doing JR? This man is hijacking the show.
Phil Goode
(Hearing the last comment made by Christian Cage, Goode turns his back and addresses the legend) Ohhh, Chrissy boy. I’m not the only AWF superstar to hijack something, so why don’t you sit there, shut your mouth, and enjoy the show Cage.
Christian Cage: Thanks to you Phil Goode, I can’t SEE the show.
Jim Ross: Hey Cage, don’t talk to him like that! I mean… I have the best seat in the house, so I’m not complaining.
Both members of the commentary team fade into silence as the Goode one jumps from where he left off.
Phil Goode
(Nodding at Cage) Yeah Cage, listen to your buddy and let the real superstars play. (Getting back on track) Before I was rudely interrupted, I was going to praise my tag-team partner Eclipse. I want to thank whoever put us together because she has the right idea about this wrasslin’ thing. She’s got BALLS. She’s tough, she’s smart, and she is programmed to understand what it means to be GOODE in the ring. When you speak on Eclipse’s name, you better refer to her as the Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy She-Borg Queen that she is! I think I’m ready to finally get this match started.
Christian Cage: The match has already started, you're late to the party… again.
Jim Ross: What’s your problem Cage, I’m actually quite fond of this guy.
Christian Cage: I figured.
Phil Goode
(Capturing the crowd's attention for one last time) Before we can do that though, there’s one thing I gotta say. Lemme break down my opponents with some Goode math.
Goode grabs a notepad and pen from Christian Cage’s side of the commentary table and proceeds to write.
Phil Goode
(Writing on the pad with sharp, swift movements) JT DUNN... if that is even your real name, I am twice the man you are. CHRIS HERO, I am also twice the man that you are! So, by my calculations, if Eclipse is half the man, I am… (holding up his sausage fingers) that would make us 6 times more likely to win the match and 6 times more likely to kick your asses.
Goode drops the microphone and dives into the ring head-on.
But Sandra Yandel is there to meet him, holding him off and forcing him toward the ropes. Both hands of his flies up.
Phil Goode: Alright alright! God! Alright!
He exits the ring, but doesn’t sit on the apron, instead walking around back toward the ramp.
Back inside the ring, Eclipse is totally focused on the uselessness of who she’s been paired up with, yelling at the man from inside the ring and not quite noticing Chris Hero’s sly entry into the ring untagged.
Cut to Phil Goode, arguing back as he slowly walks backwards back up the ramp.
Phil Goode: What’re you yelling at me for ya broad?! I’m just listening to the other broad!
And hey look, y’know, the knee? Y’know?
Christian Cage: Where the hell’s he going?!
Jim Ross: That man shoulda been a Sooner, dammit.
Cut to Eclipse turning RIGHT INTO A CHRIS HERO CYCLONE KICK FROM HELL! SHE DOESN’T GO DOWN BUT IS SPUN -- ROLLING ELBOW!
Christian Cage: DEATH IS WELCOME!
Hero exits the ring so as to ensure not complications as JT rolls over into the leg hook.
Sandra Yandel: ONE!.......
TWO!...........
THREE!
DING DING DING
Cut to Phil Goode, who gives the most uncaring shrug and smirk you’ve ever seen, before he fully turns his back to the situation and exits the arena.
Cut back to the shot in the ring, JT and Chris having their hands raised in the center of the ring barely having sweat even a drop.
Mark Beverly: The winners of this match - JT Dunn and Chris Hero: DEATH! BY! ELLLLLLLLBOW!
Both men take a turnbuckle toward the hard camera, sending a showcase of the elbow striking pose to the crowd that claps the men along.
Death by Elbow d. Eclipse & Phil Goode in 6:34
A fade out to our last commercial break of the evening.
19th of June, 2020
The Compound
Just Outside of Great Falls, Montana
8:59 am
As we near the 9 AM scheduled start for this sermon, the church is full of The Father's followers, whispering amongst themselves, wondering what could this be about, as the sermon normally is called every Friday and Sunday. the crowd then falls silent as the doors to the church swing open, and The Father, The Wolf, The Judge and The Siren make their way into the church, The Father's arms out wide, his head leaning upwards towards the heavens, as he reaches the front of the church, he turns to face his followers, with his brothers and sister by his side.
The Father
My Children... today is the start of something larger than us all... today is the day that we begin our journey... to start to spread our message to the masses. In our attempt to save all the souls which have been lost. As our lord has commanded me to save them... whether they want to be saved or not... for it is our duty.
The Wolf
And with this being our first step on our journey... we are going to need all of your support... for it will be myself and The Judge that will be going onto national television to spread our word. To defeat these poor lost souls... to send them on the right path.
The Judge
(Grunt)
The Father
Now... my children. You may be confused as to why we have picked the world of Professional wrestling as our first step towards salvation. I understand the confusion... but our lord works in mysterious ways... as it is his duty to guide us on the path. When he spoke to me he told me this would be the start of something amazing for our cause. For OUR family.
The Siren
But brother... what if there is someone out there who sees our message being broadcast... and refuses to believe it? What if they just ignore us and continue to live their life in sin?
The Father
Well... I would have to say to those people out there that they would be foolish to not believe in our cause. To not believe in what it is that we do here... we do not spout false speakings. For everything I say has been proven to be correct... for I have spoken to our lord and savior. While these others claim they have... and they spread their false message. But I am not a false prophet like this before me.
The Wolf
Our family knows that brother. But the new audience we will be reaching will not. They will only think of us as people leading "lambs to the slaughter"
The Judge
(Grunt)
The Father
If they do not believe us... then we will have to open their eyes to our way of life... we will have to prove ourselves... more importantly... You two…
The Father turns and places his hands on Wolfs and The Judges shoulder.
The Father
You two will have to make sure that we walk out of that match victorious. Do you understand me?
The Wolf
Yes, brother.
The Judge
(Grunt)
The Siren
Wait... does... does that mean that we are not going to be at ringside for their match? Why are we not going out there?!?
The Father
Because... we must make sure that we have everything under control here... we must make sure that our family has a home. I have the utmost faith in our brothers to do what it is they do best.
The Siren
But... No. We need to be out there. This is their first opportunity to spread our message! We need to be ou-
The Father
No we don't. You must trust in our plan sister. For it has been crafted by our lord and savior... so we cannot fail here. It is our destiny... we must spread our message! We must turn these sinners out there towards the light that is our family! We are the saviors for the masses. My sister... we must send our brothers to AWF to spread our message... to start our journey. I promise you that soon we will all be there... we will all make our presence known. We will show them the wrong doings of their ways. But the way we can support them on this major first step is by staying here... making sure everything here is perfect. Then we can make ourselves known.
The Siren
Okay Brother...I believe you.
The Father
NOW! My Children…
The Father then turns to face his audience once more.
The Father
We must focus... for Wolf and The Judge... our brothers... are set to go out on their quest. Their quest to spread our word... to spread our way of life. We must spread our support towards them. For they are set to leave after our sermon today... so we will finish today early with a quote from OUR bible.
He opens up the bible to what appears to be a random page... and begins to quote it.
The Father
Marshall 3:4-6... "Then the lord came down... spoke his words to his prophet... for him to spread to their followers. About the day of reckoning... about the day that his family that he has curated will finally spread his message to the masses. Putting more eyes on the prophet than there ever has been before... sewing the seeds to what would be the eventual take over... the eventual take over of the world as we know it... with The Prophet leading the charge... his family... his followers... by his side."
Fade out and into our AWF PrimeTime introductory video package.
Upon the one-minute-five-second logo flash in front of the ensuing action, we are flashed in a wide-view of the arena, but with no pyrotechnics.
The glass hasn’t even finishing shattering by the time the ENTIRETY of Houston’s jam-packed audience have risen to their feet, all coming together in order to participate in by far the most unprecedented, electric pop that the Alberta Wrestling Federation has yet seen. On his thirteenth second cue comes ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin out of the backstage area, in an old school 3:16 vest, a gold hooped earring in his left ear, the Hollywood Blondes gold chain, the above-knee jorts, and those black low top boots. Ecstatic, the cheers seem to manage to grow at the sight of his smirk - although still he talks the head-bobbing trash, darting his eyes across the arena then back at his feet in his rant. Christian has to scream to be heard.
Christian Cage: Are you witnessing this reaction?! Twenty-four years -- on the day -- since the 3:16 speech, and we’re here! We’re in Booker’s hometown, but we’re also in the same city where nearly twenty years ago, Austin aligned himself with the devil at WrestleMania X-Seven! They showed their loyalty then, and nothing’s changed now! Texas’ Favorite Export!
He skips the first step, pulling up with the ringpost to help onto the apron to begin entry in the ring, but not until he’s lingered that left leg over the second rope just a couple seconds extra. Right off the momentum, he’s stomping to the turnbuckle just diagonal then taking to his usual double-fisted, bird-flipping pose on the second ropes. The camera cuts just at the right time for the panoramic we’re all used to, coming in far from the side then in close just as he hops off and over to the next, the lights basking the crowd in the electricity of the moment.
This is quinntessential Stone Cold; he’s at home and in his element.
On the third turnbuckle, he engages with a fan offering him a cold one via finger point, before the crowd participant throws it up perfectly into his palm. Without a second effort, Austin pops the top, offers a false handoff as salute, then cocks his head back to down it himself. Tossed back into the crowd, another fan comes to catch it while Stone Cold makes his way to his fourth and final corner back toward the hard camera, then toward Mark Beverly, whose microphone he demands.
Stone Cold
OOOOOH HELL YEAH!
The crowd pops again, as he allows them. The microphone returns to his lips.
Stone Cold
NOW IF YOU’RE READY FOR STONE COLD TO TAKE OVER THE AWF GIMME A HE---
At the interruption of the classic chord, in one of the most shocking moments yet on a PrimeTime broadcast, the capacity crowd immediately revolts - picking their side clearly. A second gathering of boos, even louder than the first, meet Bret Hart as he emerges from the curtain on cue with a microphone in hand. Although his face is rife with determination, the reaction staggers him a bit, literally, as it stops him in his tracks and causes him to look around the arena in a look of disbelief. It’s been over twenty years since he got a reaction so hostile, but he gets used to it quickly, continuing his walk down the ramp after his nameplate tells of his credentials.
Mark Beverly: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, the owner of the Alberta Wrestling Federation -- the Best There Was, the Best There Is, & the Best There Ever Will Be: BRRRRRRRRRRRRET! HITMAN! HAAAAAAAAART!
Houston manages more of a roar at the announcement, nearly drowning out the thing, but Bret does not let it surprise him this time.
Cut to Steve Austin, who surprisingly does not look annoyed, having a proper laugh at the backwards reaction reigning down on AWF’s founder. Once in the ring, he doesn’t address the fans at he might have normally, instead choosing to meet Austin right where he stands in the center of the ordeal.
The two men nearly get nose-to-nose, basking in the tension.
Austin’s face descends from his shit-eating grin to an emotionless stare.
Bret doesn’t move or waver for a moment.
Austin doesn’t move or waver for a moment.
Neither of them move.
Cut to a panning shot of the two legends, once again face-to-face with nothing but bad intentions between. Oh, the nostalgia.
Cut back to the closed up, hard camera angle, beginning to pan back on the staredown.
A sudden chuckle from Austin. Then the shit-eating grin returns, before a more hearty laugh is offered up, right in the Hitman’s face. In the chuckle, Austin doesn’t walk away, but to the side just enough that he’s turned to Hart, not offering up to the man any more time for photo-ops. Glancing over his shoulder with the smile, he allows Bret to begin.
Bret Hart
Y’know, something, Austin….
Boos rain before the sentence can be continued. Bret ignores the response.
Bret Hart
What you did to Booker was--
More boos, and Hart turns to look at the crowd, confused considering this is the Commissioner’s hometown. Bret turns back.
Bret Hart
It was uncalled for! It was terrible! But he’ll be back, dammit.
Another chorus of boos as Austin squints over at Bret, the smile fading away.
Bret Hart
He’s gonna be back! Yeah, you heard it. That’s all I say, but just know, Austin, that he’s been beat down by bigger than you and he’s got up, every! Time!
Hart’s tone is particularly pointed, almost as if the Hitman was ready to lace up a pair of boots himself.
Bret Hart
And y’know something, you with this commission-
Stone Cold
No, son, do you know something?
Crowd: WHAT?!
Austin turns just slightly to get a better look.
Stone Cold
I said do you know something?
Crowd: WHAT?!
Stone Cold
I think you know I’m right.
Crowd: WHAT?!
Stone Cold
Yeah, (that point, this one to Hart) you know I’m right!
Crowd: WHAT?!
Bret can distinctly be seen mouthing his own, incredulous ‘WHAT?!’
Stone Cold
You know I’m right. You hear these people. Huh? You hear these people. You heard ‘em the first night, you heard ‘em tonight. What?
Crowd: WHAT?!
Stone Cold
You heard em cheer Stone Cold like nobody else done got YET.
One step puts his face uncomfortably close to Bret’s, the mic grazing the Canadian’s cheek.
Stone Cold
Including your (that particular mocking Austin tone) precious little commissioner!
Crowd: WHAT?!
Stone Cold
I think you should give me a shot.
No ‘what,’ just excitement. Bret’s laugh and head cock-back allows distance between the two. Austin doesn’t move.
Stone Cold
Yeah! Damn right! I think you should give Stone Cold a shot.
Crowd: WHAT?!
Stone Cold
(the point) You know it too.
Crowd: WHAT?!
Drop of the arm.
Stone Cold
IF YOU’RE READY FOR STONE COLD TO TAKE OVER THE AWF, GIMME A ‘HELL YEAH’!
Crowd: HELL YEAH!
The grin grows as he stares through Bret.
Crowd: AUSTIN! AUSTIN! AUSTIN! AUSTIN!
Steve drops his stare as Houston chants incessantly, pacing around the ring until getting back to the center of the ring.
Bret Hart
Y’know something...
Crowd: WHAT?!
Austin gets a little closer and puts an ear toward Hart, so as to suggest he’s listening closely.
Bret Hart
... You might have a point.
Both the crowd and Austin pop, as he drops back against the ropes whilst doing his weird ‘I’m screaming to the skies as only Steve Austin does’ hand gesture, hollering an audible ‘OH HELLLLLL YEEEEEEHUHHH!’
Bret Hart
If it’s what these people really want --
A deafening roar of approval.
Bret Hart
Then I’ll tell ya what: I’ll make you interim commissioner.
Austin’s smile dissipates. A slow microphone rise.
Stone Cold
(the crowd catches it in time to say it simultaneously) What?
Bret Hart
Interim commissioner, until Booker comes back.
Austin with a Glenn Jacobs-like head tilt.
Bret Hart
Or if I decide Booker’s services are no longer required.
Shit-eating grin comes right back.
Stone Cold
Are you serious?
Crowd: WHAT?!
Bret nods.
Stone Cold
Verbal contract? Right here? (points to the crowd then the hard camera) In front of all these witnesses?
Bret Hart
You got it, Steve. What you say, goes, unless I’ve got something to say about it.
A squint at the last part.
Stone Cold
Shake on it?
Bret looks at Stone Cold with an understandable hesitance. But the right hand gets put out.
Austin’s grin is the biggest it has been all night.
Steve’s hand grabs onto Bret’s with a fierce grip, but Hart is ready for it and their palms stalemate center-ring.
Cut to a close up shot of the hands.
Cut back to the hard camera. Bret walks off --
But Austin hasn’t let go of the grip!
Pull back.
Another staredown, this time the noses connect.
Shit-eating Austin grin.
The grip released - on Austin’s call.
Bret turns to begin back at the ropes.
But Austin pulls at the shoulder to turn him back! ----
Shit-eating Austin grin.
Austin turns to walk away himself.
JUST TO TURN BACK -- KICK TO THE GUT! STUNNER! STUNNER! STUNNER!
BRET TAKES THE STUNNER!
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING!
THE CROWD GETS ON THEIR FEET IN SUPPORT!
Cut to security, immediately running from the back. Austin’s head darts up quick and he gets back a microphone in grasp.
Commissioner Austin
NAAA-UH! NO NO NO! UH-UH! OH HELL NO!
The security stops in their tracks, as they are now at his command.
Commissioner Austin
Looks like the only motherfucker with more power than me, ain’t got much to say.
Turn to the hard camera.
Commissioner Austin
Safe to say, he seems a bit… STUNNED! HA! GET IT?!
His laughing head tilt back is so dramatic that he takes a full back bump, lays there laughing, before getting up with a head full of Bret’s hair in his hand.
KICK TO THE GUT! STUNNER! ANOTHER ONE TO AWF’S FOUNDER!
Houston still remains loyal in their response, but come down with louder boos than they offered Bret when Austin’s request for a beer is totally wafted by the throw, nowhere near his palm.
Cut to Austin’s look of disbelief. He shakes his head as if to shake off the fuckup, returning with that grin. The open palm goes back up. The next beer goes soaring over his fingers, closer but still bloody off. A pissed Austin chucks his microphone across the arena before rushing outside and toward the timekeeper (AKA the shit thrower), who sees it coming and begins sprinting away before anything can happen. Unfortunately for him, he’s a fat fuck and it doesn’t take much for Austin to keep a steady pace with that Stone Cold jog of his, around the ring almost a full 360°. Damn the ankle of the timekeeper, which snags the bottom rope as he tries to roll under it, giving Austin just enough time to meet him inside the ring and pull at him from behind.
TURN AROUND -- KICK TO THE GUT! STUNNER!
The keeper goes flying up, before crumbling like a heap on the back bump. The crowd chants his last name as Steve drops to roll underneath the bottom rope, grabs the cooler of beer that hid behind the commentary booth, puts it into the ring, then re-enters himself. Three beers are quickly popped open then he ascends one of the hard-camera’s turnbuckles. The hard camera pans in to his face as he stares through it, with that grin. Just as he slams the cans together --
-- and the pour. Fade into a scene.
Cheriè
Why?!
Cherie Belanger cries at the screen as Jon Snow gallops off into the white North. She slams her fist down on the couch causing her sister to look up at her with confusion. The older, darker twin is at the small kitchenette table, a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose as she darns a hole in her football sock.
Cherie hits the button on the DVD remote to eject the disc and return it to the case. Borrowed from one of the pair's mentors, Justin Fischer.
Normally, Victoire was used to her sister being a little on the dramatic side but this was the ending of a Television program and she couldn’t understand how Cher could be so worked up about it.
Victorie
It’s just a television show..
Her crisp french grates on the already raw nerves of the younger twin. She turns to look at her sister with a glare that could freeze even the hottest flame.
Cheriè
It’s not just a show Vic. It’s the ending of an epic adventure and they messed it up. Jon should be King, not that stupid seer guy Bran. Bran the Broken... what the hell…
Victoire chuckles, continuing to push the needle in and out of the fabric with ease.
Victorie
You just think some of the actors are hot...
The fraternal twins lived in a rented trailer, one that was coincidentally owned by their trainer's family so their rent was relatively cheap, however, money was not coming in as steadily as they had thought, when they first decided to move to Toronto to pursue their careers in professional wrestling.
Cheriè
It’s not funny! I’m so heartbroken. And... it's not just because the actors are good looking.
She puts a hand to her chest as if she was going to die, but continues her rant as if she were giving an empowered speech at some sort of rally.
Cheriè
I am so devastated by this lack of effort. I blame the author. It’s like he spent all this time writing this awesome series and then just shits the bed when it gets to the ending.
Vic looks at Cher with disbelief.
Victorie
You don’t even read Cher, how could you possibly know the books were awesome…
She’s gone back to English. It seemed to come more easily now that she was around more English speaking people.
Cheriè
Well... why make such a good TV series if they weren’t?
Victoire only shrugs. She knew better than to try to argue such a point with her sister. Most times it ended up just making Cherie more upset that she needed to be. She once again returns to her darting. Cher shuts off the TV fully and walks over.
Cheriè
Why not just buy new ones?
Victoire sighs heavily.
Victorie
Shall I just go take some cash off the money tree growing in our backyard then?
Cher bites her lower lip.
Victorie
Being in Toronto is expensive even with the Fischer family helping us out. I think you may need to get a job, Cher…
Cherie’s mouth drops open in shock.
Cheriè
Me... a job... I don’t think so…
Once again Victoire has to put down her socks to turn toward her younger sister.
Victorie
Wrestling is not going to pay all the bills. My female football contract is making it so we can eat but you have to do your part too.
Cher rolls her eyes.
Cheriè
I’ll just ask grandpere for more money…
Victorie
No. I told him not to give you any more money.
Cherie stomps her foot.
Cheriè
Why not?
Victorie
Because we need to do this ourselves. We are twenty-six years old. We need to be able to make it on our own without Ma Mere and Grandpere doing it for us. This is part of growing up Ma Petite. Why not ask for a job at Olympia?
Cher shakes her head.
Cheriè
They shut down the Toronto branch.
Victoire doesn’t say anything, only opens up her laptop. Probably the most expensive piece of equipment either of them owned. She does a quick search and then begins typing.
Victorie
There. You’re now signed up with a temp agency. Do odd jobs until something happens. IF we win the tag titles at AWF, our salary will increase and maybe you won’t have to work anymore but until then, you need to do your part. Unless you want to go home and admit that Grandpere was right…
It hit a nerve. Their grandfather had doubts that wrestling was a good choice for his darling girls. Victoire had a mind for business and he wanted to make her an executive in his company and Cher... well... Cher was pretty and probably could marry some well off man that could take care of her. Either way, grandpere was not happy about his girls getting into a ring and possibly dying like their father.
Victorie
Look... what about dog walking? You can do that....
Cher turns her nose up but reluctantly agrees. Her sister then types into the computer a few things and then looks up satisfied. “You start tomorrow. It's not much but a few hundred dollars is better than zero dollars.”
Cher, defeated, hangs her shoulders and stomps back to their bedroom. Victoire can’t help chuckling to herself.
Victorie
...Un tel enfant...
“I heard that!” Cher calls from the bedroom. But that was all that came of it because deep down, Cher knew that Vic was right.
Fade to commercial.
Fade back into another scene.
Fade into the interior of a retro looking gym. All Three Best Friends are standing near the shake counter, donning interesting outfits. Orange Cassidy is of course wearing his signature denim jacket and jeans. Chuck is wearing a grey tank top and black WBF sweatpants. Trent is wearing a black shirt with a large adidas logo under it, a white button up shirt with a wwf logo in the corner(which took him way too long to find on ebay), a towel around his neck and grey sweatpants. Chuck has a slightly annoyed expression on his face.
Chuck Taylor
Alright Trent, why did you have us come down here? This is our off day and I was really looking forward to sleeping in man.
Trent Beretta
Look, we all have a really important show this week. Orange is competing for the Provincial title and you and I need to reaffirm our dominance as the best team in AWF. I figured some good old fashioned training would do us wonders. I figured we would need some energy before this workout, so let’s grab something from the shake counter.
The three walk over to the shake counter, where a teenager is working the counter.
Trent Beretta
Hey my man, can we get like eight raw eggs split between two glasses.
Every single person in the immediate area gives him a look of disgust, including Chuck and the teenager. Orange remains unfazed.
Teenager
Dude, we don’t carry eggs here.
Trent Beretta
Huh, I figured you guys would.
Trent turns to his friends.
Trent Beretta
Sorry about that guys, guess we’re gonna have to skip breakfast. Let’s head over to the sit-up benches.
The trio walk over to the sit-up benches and while Chuck and Orange set themselves up, Trent is grabbing two forty five pound plates. He places one each in the laps of his friends.
Chuck Taylor
Uh, what the hell is this?
Trent Beretta
I saw Vince do this once and he beat Austin.
Chuck Taylor
Austin? Oh shit then maybe we should do it, if he keeps trying to fight the Commish, we might have to fight him.
Chuck does a few sit ups with the plate before stopping and turning to Trent. Orange is still just laying on the bench with the plate on his chest.
Chuck Taylor
Trent?
Trent Beretta
Yeah?
Chuck Taylor
Why aren’t you working out with us?
Trent Beretta
Oh, cause I’m the hype man.
Chuck Taylor
What? I wanna be the hype man, that sounds like so much more fun.
Trent Beretta
Hey man, my ribs still hurt from last week. Don't worry all of this is mental training for me.
Chuck grumbles and goes back to doing sit-ups.
Trent Beretta
And who got the pin last week?
Chuck Taylor
...Leslie.
Trent Beretta
Who?
Chuck Taylor
Leslie Jones.
Trent Beretta
And that was her first match. She is from SNL and not even good SNL. What do you think about that?
Chuck keeps doing sit-ups now slightly faster.
Chuck Taylor
...I hate Leslie.
Trent Beretta
WHO DO YOU HATE?!
Chuck Taylor
I HATE LESLIE!
Chuck repeats this every time he does a sit-up.
Trent Beretta
Who made a fool of you last week?
Chuck Taylor
LESLIE!
Trent Beretta
Who you gonna beat this week?
Chuck Taylor
LESLIE!
Trent Beretta
(standing up, with a hand on his hip while he thinks out towards space) Well and some other people too…
Chuck Taylor
(stopping halfway through a situp) Other people?
Trent Beretta
I mean yeah, there is Leslie, but we also have this cult, and then two french girls who were created in a lab.
Chuck Taylor
(returning to his workout) Jesus, this division has gotten weird.
Trent Beretta
Yeah things were so much simpler when all we had were fake vampires and Russian Luchadors. I mean, what’s next?
Trent notices Chuck resting with the weight.
Trent Beretta
(bending over in Chucks face) BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN WE CAN REST! WHO YOU GONNA BEAT?
Chuck Taylor
LESLIE!
Fade to black as Chuck and Trent are yelling and Orange is still laying there with the weight on his chest.
Fade into a dark storage locker. The door rolls up and in walk all three men.
Chuck Taylor
(shivinger as frost comes out of his breath) D-dude wh-why are we here?
Trent Beretta
If we’re going to assert our dominance over the other tag teams, we can’t just rely on our strength. We have to put that strength into practice.
Trent grabs a large coat from behind a bench and puts it on, as Chuck and OC look on holding their arms to their bodies for warmth
Chuck Taylor
Do you have one for us?
Trent Beretta
Why? You’ll warm up by training!
Trent pulls a chord as pig corpses fall from the ceiling. They lay hanging on hooks swinging back and forth as Chuck’s eyes follow them like a pendulum.
Chuck Taylor
Dude! You expect me to punch these pigs?
Trent Beretta
(walking up to Chuck and grabbing him by the shoulders to reassure him) No, no, of course not. I expect you to DESTROY THESE PIGS!
Chuck Taylor
I can’t do that! Just look at them.
Trent Beretta
Of course you can! Look, OC’s got the hang of it.
They look over to Orange Cassidy who’s limply smacking the pigs belly with the back of his hand. He turns to Chuck and gives a limp thumbs-up.
Chuck Taylor
I can’t punch an animal when it still has its face.
Trent Beretta
Okay, hold on I think I got something that can help.
Trent walks over to his bag, and pulls out a sheet of paper and some scotch tape. He pastes it on the pig’s face, revealing it to be a photo of Leslie Jones.
Trent Beretta
How about now?
Chuck Taylor
No! I can’t do it.
Trent gets behind the pig and starts slowly swinging it towards Chuck
Trent Beretta
(in a high pitch girl voice) Oh look at me I’m Leslie! I beat Chuck Taylor last week!
Chuck Taylor
Stop it, Trent.
Trent Beretta
(still in the high pitch voice, swinging the pig a little higher towards Chuck’s face) Ooooh, Chuck sucks!
Chuck Taylor
It’s not going to work Trent.
Trent Beretta
I heard he can’t even do the falcon arrow correctly.
Chuck Taylor
That’s not funny!
Trent Beretta
I heard he has a tiny dick!
Chuck Taylor
I HATE LESLIE!
Trent pulls then releases the pig back with all his might, as Chuck winds back his fist. As the pig comes careening towards Chuck at full speed, the photo of Leslie falls off revealing the pigs face right at eye level with Chuck. Chuck gives out a scream and drops his punch as the pig smacks into him full force sending him backwards. Chuck lands on the floor next to OC who’s just slowly pushing the pig back and forth, and the scene fades out.
Fade into the three Best Friends standing in the middle of a park. The three halves are still adorning their workout attire.
Chuck Taylor
Alright Trent, what’s next?
Trent Beretta
Well normally this would be the part in the training where you chase a chicken. All the greats did it, Rocky, Vince.... Anyway, I thought I’d make it more specific for you guys.
He turns to Chuck.
Trent Beretta
You know how the old saying goes “The best way to train for an SNL cast member, is to train with a SNL cast member.”
Chuck and OC look at each other in a concerned manner.
Trent Beretta
So that’s why I asked Horatio Sanz to come and help us!
Horatio Sanz appears from behind a tree wearing his best sweatsuit.
Trent Beretta
Horatio is gonna run around and you’re gonna try to catch him.
Chuck and Orange are still just staring at Trent confused.
Trent Beretta
(Blows a whistle) GO!
Horatio Sanz starts running, while Chuck and Orange are still standing there in shock.
Trent Beretta
Come on guys...go get him…
Chuck sighs and starts to chase after Horatio Sanz, who is halfway across the park. Orange remains standing next to Trent.
Yakety Sax plays as the two watch Chuck Taylor try to chase Horatio Sanz. As the time passes, OC moves slowly off to the right of the screen, until he is no longer in the shot.
The camera now just shows Trent writing some stuff on a clipboard, OC is nowhere to be seen.
Chuck Taylor
(In a labored and winded yell) TRENT!! I ALMOST GOT HIM!!
Trent looks up and is mildly concerned. He starts to fun towards Chuck.
Trent Beretta
CHUCK!
Chuck Taylor
ALMOST THERE!
Trent Beretta
CHUCK! NO!
All of a sudden a tackle noise is heard and Trent finally catches up to him. Chuck is laying on top of a Hispanic man.
Trent Beretta
Dude that isn’t Horatio Sanz!
Chuck’s face changes from a look of victory to a look of defeat.
Chuck Taylor
Oh shit dude, sorry!
Trent Beretta
It’s not your fault Chuck, they do kind of look the same
Chuck Taylor
I was just running, and saw a Mexican also running!
Guy
(in a thick accent) I’m Italian and I’m from Brooklyn!
Trent pulls Chuck off of the man.
Chuck Taylor
I think we should take the Commish up on that racial sensitivity class he emailed us about.
Trent Beretta
You have a point, but at least we know that black lives matter.
Chuck Taylor
Black Lives Matter.
They fist bump. Then the Italian man gets up and fists bumps them too, as they are allies.
Chuck Taylor
If that wasn’t Horatio Sanz, then where is he?
They both look for a while until it cuts to a park bench where Horatio Sanz and OC are sitting. Horatio is eating a hot dog, while OC is drinking an OJ.
Fades again, now the Best Friends and Horatio Sanz are standing elsewhere in the park.
Trent Beretta
Alright, this part is for Orange. I figure if you have to fight two other dudes at the same time, you should train by fighting three dudes at the same time.
Chuck Taylor
Is Horatio Sanz a trained fighter?
Trent Beretta
No, but he was on SNL, so it’s basically the same thing.
Horatio Sanz hits his fist into his palm in an intimidating manner.
Trent Beretta
Alright OC, if you can take three dudes at the same time, you can take on two. So here it comes!
Trent, Chuck and Horatio Sanz all jump to attack Orange. As his best friends and Horatio Sanz jumped to attack him, Orange closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes he expected to be dodging punches, instead he was standing about ten feet back from the situation. He watched as Chuck and Trent beat something up, looking at his own hands to see if it seemed real.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
Am I having an outer-body experience?
Orange looks to his left and sees nothing. He turns to his right and standing next to him is BRUCE HART! Orange opens his mouth as if he were about to say something.
Bruce Hart\
Sorry about the old bait and switch kid. I pulled you out and put Horatio Sanz in your place. Let’s take a walk.
Orange now notices that his denim jacket and sunglasses are missing.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
I guess that’s where my clothes are.
The pair walk around the park for a few minutes before either of them speak. The weather is nice and all seems calm in the park.
Bruce Hart
I’m proud of your fight with the Raging Dead the other week.
Orange stops walking and stares at Bruce.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
What is there to be proud of? I gave it my all and lost.
Bruce walks back to OC and puts his hand on his shoulder.
Bruce Hart
You may not have won, but you took my advice. You didn’t let him use you as a ragdoll and you gave him everything you got. You showed him you were more than the beaten horse of a joke that everyone likes to call you. You did well.
Bruce turns to start walking again. Orange watches for a moment before catching up to him.
Bruce Hart
Besides, I watched you hit a canadian destroyer on a midget last week. Funniest shit I’ve ever seen. But there aren’t gonna be any midgets in your title match this week....wait are there?
Orange shakes his head no.
Bruce Hart
Had to make sure, you never know with my brother’s insane asylum of a company. But like I said, you gotta get serious again. This could be your big break!
As the two are walking along, they come across an old time ice cream stand. Bruce does a double take when he sees it.
Bruce Hart
I got an idea, let's go get some ice cream, my treat.
The pair walk over to the tiny metal ice cream cart with a striped umbrella. The man working the cart is wearing an apron, a bow tie and a little paper hat.
Bruce Hart
Let me get a rum raisin and a rocky road for the kid.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
Kid? I’m 35.
The man takes out two cones with ice cream already in them and hands them to Bruce. Bruce then hands him an nondescript amount of money and no other words are exchanged. Bruce starts to walk again and Orange follows. Bruce takes a lick from his ice cream cone.
Bruce Hart
This is good. Here ya go.
Bruce holds out the rocky road cone for Orange. Orange goes to grab it, but Bruce moves it. Once again, Orange goes to grab the ice cream cone and Bruce moves it. Before recklessly attempting to grab it, Orange waits for a second hoping that Bruce would drop his guard, but to no avail as not only does Bruce move the ice cream cone, but he puts it into his other hand and slaps Orange across the face. Hard.
Orange takes a step back as he tries to gain his composure and process the situation before trying to grab it again. Alas, he meets the same fate as last time with a hard slap across the face.
Orange’s vision begins to get cloudy as he tries one last time to grab the elusive ice cream cone. He does not succeed and his efforts are met with another hard slap across the face. He doesn’t lose his vision, however he sees something entirely different.
What he sees is the blonde boy that we’ve seen in the past, but he is being held down by a child much larger than him. The larger child is holding what appears to be a Bruce Hart action figure in his hand.
Bigger Child
You want your doll back, don’t ya? Well try to take it.
Every time the blonde child tries to grab for his treasured toy, he is met with a strike to the face. This does not stop the blonde boy from trying to grab it, although the outcome is always the same.
Orange winces with every hit the boy takes. A warm sensation comes over his left shoulder, as if a heated blanket is being placed on it. He turns behind him to see the Female Figure.
Soft Female Voice
Do you see what’s happening?
Orange Cassidy
He keeps getting hit in the face cause he’s trying to get the toy back.
Soft Female Voice
And why does he keep getting hit?
Orange Cassidy
Cause he is not fast enough…
Soft Female Voice
No sweetheart, he is thinking too fast and not assessing the situation. You may need to move fast, but sometimes it doesn’t help to think fast. Find the true problem and you can overcome any situation.
With that Orange’s mind started to fade back into reality.
Orange Cassidy
Wait! Please don't leave me again!
But it was to no avail, his vision was restored and he was now staring at Bruce with two ice cream cones.
Bruce Hart
Oh come on kid, don’t you want the ice cream?
With that Orange rushes his hand forward, Bruce moves the ice cream, but Orange is not aiming for the ice cream. He grabs Bruce by the collar of his shirt with his left hand and is now making a fist with his right hand. Bruce has a huge smile across his face. Orange is confused so he lets go of Bruce.
Bruce Hart
That’s what I was looking for! No need to go crazy all the time, but no reason to not always be on the top of your game. You might want to get back to your friends before they really Horatio Sanz.
Bruce points to the Best Friends who are about twenty feet from them at this point. Orange nods and runs towards his friends. He jumps and hits Chuck with a hurricanrana, but Chuck rolls through.
Chuck Taylor
Wait? Orange? Then? Who?
Trent hears Chuck and backs up seeing that he was attacking Horatio Sanz, who is wearing Orange’s sunglasses and jacket, looking more disheveled than he had before. Just a few scratches, he’ll be fine.
Trent Beretta
Oh shit, sorry Horatio Sanz.
Horatio Sanz gives OC back his jacket and sunglasses, which OC immediately puts back on. Trent checks his watch.
Trent Beretta
Look at the time! I guess training is done for the day, we need to start heading to Houston.
Chuck Taylor
Ok, but how are we gonna get there?
Horatio Sanz
We can take my car.
He tosses the keys to Chuck, who hits the lock button to see which car it is. The lock noise comes from a 1997 Toyota Tercel. The gang loads up into the car.
Chuck Taylor
Aw sweet, there’s half a taco in the cup holder.
As the car leaves the park, Orange sees Bruce sitting on a bench with the two ice cream cones. Bruce gives him a nod as the car rolls past. Orange’s phone buzzes, but he ignores it as Trent starts to speak.
Trent Beretta
Oh shit, the training that Vince did was for the rumble match. I don’t think it’s gonna help us at all with our matches tonight.
Chuck Taylor, Horatio Sanz, and Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
Fuck.
The camera fades as the car drives into the sunset.
Fade into the arena.
Flash to an AWF animated logo to a screen reading:
THE BRAWL AT YANKEE STADIUM
25 JULY 2020
OFFICIAL THEME
Flash of an animated version of ‘The Brawl at Yankee Stadium’ logo that returns us to the arena, but this time to our commentary booth.
Lance Storm: Our official welcome to you all to AWF PrimeTime. I’m Lance Storm alongside --
Each fan behind the commentary booth goes ballistic in their rise to their feet.
Cut to the stage where the titantron plays along with the same lighting touring the arena as earlier in the show. Out of the curtain comes Steve Austin, with a microphone in hand, staring down at the commentary booth we just had the view of.
Commissioner Austin
First thing I want to be done is to get that piece of crap off my announce booth! Lance, you boring sonuvabitch? You’re fired!
Quick cut to Lance Storm who looks obviously taken aback.
Commissioner Austin
And here’s why.
In a pop that rivals Steve Austin’s first on the night, the crowd remains on their feet as the wrestling legend Jim Ross emerges from behind the curtain, in a tan suit and his patented black cowboy hat. He offers up the JR-salute to the welcoming audience before a loving handshake from Steve Austin sends him on the way down the ramp.
Cut to the commentary booth, where Christian darts wide-eyed looks back and forth between his now former partner and his new one. Lance Storm stands defiantly the whole, with no plans to remove his headset.
Cut to Jim Ross rounding the corner of the ring and approaching Storm with a walk that matches Storm’s defiance. Without a word, Ross offers a hand out in front of Lance. Storm cocks his head to the side, before reaching for the shake.
But Ross steps back and drops his hand, only to look just slightly above Storm’s head, use the same hand to point directly at the headset, and offer his hand back out, his message better delivered.
Cut to Austin, still on stage, watching the entire ordeal.
Storm decides accepting his fate may be the better course of action, removing the headset, giving them one last loving pat, then handing them in the direction of Ross, who snatches it impatiently. Storm stares as Ross acts as if he isn’t there, removing his hat temporarily to adorn the headset, then pushing past him to get to the nice leather seat, but doesn’t sit as we hear his voice for the first time.
Jim Ross: I’ll be damned! Finally! This program gets somebody with some talent!
Christian Cage: … Well… welcome, Jim. Been a while, good to see you and all, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish they under better circumstances.
Jim Ross: Better circumstances? By god, Cage, Austin’s in control and Good Ol’ JR is on commentary. There ain’t better circumstances! And you know who made it all possible? It was one man.
A pointed finger to Christian’s face.
Jim Ross: STONE COLD! STONE COLD! STONE COLD!
Cut to the stage, no longer occupied by the interim commissioner.
The high energy already buzzing in the arena simply just works for this first team entrant. Hands held firmly together, a leather-jacket clad Trent Beretta and a t-shirt-adorning Chuck Taylor clear the curtain to quickly stop at the stage, their hands clasped as they give the crowd what they want. Nameplate.
Mark Beverly: The following contest is a quadruple tag team match set for one fall! Introducing first, from Racoon City, at a total combined weight of four hundred six pounds -- the team of Chuck Taylor and Trent Beretta: BEST! FRRRRRRRRRRIENDS!
They wait for the conclusion of their credentials just prior to embarking on their journey down the ramp, slapping hands with fans along the way. As they reach the ringside area, the fade out of their theme.
A more mixed reaction stirs the crowd, but in general it is a bit more contained than any other reaction yet tonight. This is to be expected, this new team yet still unfamiliar to the AWF commoner. Their first impression, however, is impressive, as a serious-looking Victoire leads the charge, followed behind by Cheriè who skips out then around her sister until they’re side-by-side at the foot of the stage.
Mark Beverly: And their opponents -- first -- from Montreal, Quebec, weighing a total three hundred twenty five pounds -- Cheriè et Victoire Belanger… THIS! is the EPITOME of SAVOIR! FAIRE!
Victorie glares a hole through her opponents --
Cut to said opponents, getting a good glance at the new bloods and trading first strategies.
Cut back to Victoire and Cheriè descending together, nearing the ringside area.
Houston returns to a raucous response, much more familiar with this Hollywood darling duo. In complete unison do Kolotov Dracislav and Leslie Jones stomp out from the back with determined glares, not wasting time to stop at the stage for basking.
Mark Beverly: Introducing the team of Leslie Jones & Kolotov Dracislav: STAND UP SMACK DOWN!
Cut to the ring -- where the Best Friends are rebounding off the ropes!
Cut to Leslie and Kolotov, realizing what’s happening just a tad too late.
Cut to the ring, where AWF’s first tag team doesn’t stay long: Chuck Taylor between the top and middle ropes with a suicide dive onto Leslie and Trent clears over the top with a swanton dive that drops Kolotov to the arena floor! Beretta gets up smoothly, pats over his heart, kisses his fingers, and points to the sky.
Cut to Chuck getting clobbered by Victoire on the outside with a flying and stiff boot to the face! Her flexibility is impressive, but Cheriè’s tilt-a-whirl headscissors on Trent is just as exciting!
Cut. Victoire has dragged Taylor to his feet and tossed him into the ring, as just the moment Leslie charges her with a GOOOOOOOOORE! A PROPER FUCKING GORE! On the outside! The crowd oooooo’s at the way Victoire’s head clobbers off the arena floor.
Cut. Trent in the smaller woman’s grasp again, this time an Irish whip attempt into the post -- but he turns it around at the last second -- and she thinks fast, grabbing hold of the post before swinging herself onto the apron! Trent can’t help but stop and give an approving nod at the athleticism. Cheriè looks back with a beautiful smile then brushes the proverbial dirt off her shoulder, entering the ring with the same stare toward Beretta.
Just to turn into Chuck Taylor’s gutkick! Quickly, he grips her and we see it! The first Falcon Arrow in AWF history! Center of the ring!
But Leslie has an aggressive grab of the little bit of hair on his head, pulling him out of the grip as soon as the maneuver lands (and so does it land flush) and puts her into her own grasp!
Christian Cage: She’s setting up for it, Ross! We call this the Saturday Nightmare Live! if you didn’t know!
Jim Ross: If I didn’t know? I’m Jim Ross bitch!
Every light in the arena cuts.
Restless, Houston grows.
The lights flash back on, with this sight in the middle of the ring: The Wolf and The Judge, back to back, with a still-downed Cheriè just barely in the ring, Chuck Taylor having escaped Leslie’s grapple in the confusion to retreat seated in a corner, Jones herself in a corner, but standing and attentive at the sight in the center.
Ding!
At the sound, nothing happens. The hard camera zooms into the grizzled face of The Wolf, then pans to the much taller The Judge. Never, EVER has there been a bigger individual in Alberta Wrestling Federation’s squared circle. And everyone knows it, including the front row participants that cannot stop their stare at the man, as if he were a special attraction.
Cut to Chuck Taylor, the closest to that intimidating, mastodon of a man, his eyes bulging out of his skull as he cautiously rises to his feet.
Cut to Victoire, who has begun using the outside barricade to help her up, but not before getting a good look at the ring activity (or rather, the lack thereof).
Cut to Kolotov, who stalks underneath the bottom rope, seemingly picking his spot.
Cut to Chuck, Trent Beretta having joined him in the corner, just on the apron, as he should be. The two talk some more strategy as Beretta wraps the tag rope his hand, before a pat on the back sends him off.
Chuck and Leslie charge!
The Wolf meets Leslie with a wild Lou Thesz press, then sends a flurry of wild smacks and nail claws at her face, actually causing two open wounds along her right cheek!
Meanwhile, Chuck gets dropped FAST with a Bionic Elbow from The Judge that looked as though it took absolutely no effort! His body drops only to bounce back up, then he finds himself over The Judge’s shoulder -- running powerslam to the center of the ring! The sound!
At that moment, Leslie is able to turn around the scenario, putting The Wolf on his back to attempt a mounted flurry, but The Wolf quickly turns it back, and the two begin brawling in a roll all the way to the outside, on the arena floor.
Referee Emerson Fofão draws his attention to this scuffle of legal participants outside of the ring. At that moment, Cheriè manages an arm-swinging low-blow on The Judge! We see a glimmer of a reaction and some pain, before the man sickeningly just… straightens up. Reeking of a horror movie villain, a slow turn to Belanger, who stands, unable to believe the response -- so she uses his leg this time! This kicking low-blow is more effective, as The Judge can’t help but grab at his nether regions in a bowl over!
Victoire is quickly in the ring to assist her twin, ducking under The Judge’s arm for a back suplex -- but she can’t get the man up on her own! Kolotov’s spot is picked, and he’s in the ring to get on the other side -- DOUBLE BACK SUPLEX! THEY MANAGE IT! The ring clearly bounces on impact.
Grabbing at her back after, Victoire commands the referee’s attention as Cheriè attempts a pin.
Emerson Fofão: ONE!.......
Kolotov kicks her in the back of the head! Without hesitation, Emerson is reprimanding and pushing the illegal Kolotov toward the ropes to get out of the ring.
Cut to an outside camera view, where Leslie Jones is able to reach up and force Victorie backwards out of the ring by a grab of the hair! Victoire lands like a cat, on both, and even manages to block the incoming right hand and turn it into her own, Kane-style uppercut! Belanger takes just two steps back before rushing in with the same running big boot that cleaned Chuck’s clock earlier and two times does it land! Leslie, however -- that sick fuck -- is only down to one knee following the blow, and uses such positioning to help in a fast sprint for another GOOOOOOOORE!
BUT VICTORIE KNOWS IT’S COMING! ARN ANDERSON STYLE SPINEBUSTER, BY VICTORIE!
Jim Ross: Jones is down! BY GOD CAGE! Jones is down!
Cut to The Judge with Cheriè in a chokeslam grab that she is surely not getting out of. Chuck Taylor may help though! Springboard! Victoire rolls Leslie under the bottom rope.
Right into his other hand! With both hands wrapped around their necks, with disgusting ease does he lift both above his head to drop them with a destructive double chokeslam!
The Judge turns to see his biggest opposition attempting to pull herself from her knees, and down comes another Bionic Elbow to halt her efforts. His boot to her jaw is surely one of the worst things Jones has yet to endure in her short wrestling career, but even worse is when he’s able to set up and connect with a massive powerbomb in the center of the ring!
Jim Ross: She’s gone about fifteen feet in the air and had a helluva rough landing! This Judge fella is a behemoth!
Cheriè slinks over slyly.
Emerson Fofão: TAG!
Victoire is in like a bat out of hell, ducking The Judge’s attempted lariat into a gut kick, then a kick to the knee once she realizes the first was ineffective. Still, leg grab or not, he looms, so she rebounds off the ropes -- and gets caught in his grasp! On his shoulders and he’s going for that powerslam!
But she slides down --
Emerson Fofão: TAG!
-- and pushes him into the same corner the tag emanated from: kick over the head from Trent to The Judge! This shot must’ve hit just the right way, as for once we watch The Judge stumble backwards. Still, the big bastard isn’t down, so Beretta does what needs be done: springboard missile dropkick to the mush!
But still, he will not fall! But the kick pushes the groggy man into the waistlock grab!
Jim Ross: No way dammit! There’s no way she can do this on her own!
And over her head does he go! GERMAN SUPLEX BY VICTOIRE HITS! THE JUDGE FOLDS OVER HIS OWN NECK!
Jim Ross: Good Lord she did it! Victoire has done it!
Unknowing how, the fold over rolls him to his feet, though with minimal balance as he stumbles back into the corner where The Wolf awaits.
Emerson Fofão: TAG!
Leslie Jones with the same running big boot Victoire has been delivering, to Victoire!
Trent charges The Wolf only to be met with the same Lou Thesz that caught Leslie. Trent guards up well, but his left forearm suffers a scratch. Smartly, The Wolf changes one claw on the last millisecond into a stiff left jab to the less-than-100% ribs, forcing open Trent’s grip for a right to the face that’s even stiffer.
Cut to Leslie stomping an effective mudhole in Victoire in the Shut Up Smack Down corner.
Emerson Fofão: TAG!
Kolotov is in and together they begin to stomp a mudhole. Emerson is right into the fray to try and break the illegal double team. Leslie listens, only to be quickly tagged in again.
Emerson Fofão: TAG!
The double mudhole into the official-mandated singular variety.
Emerson Fofão: TAG!
Kolotov is back in, and grinds a nasty boot into the throat!
Cut to Trent attempting a superkick that’s ducked -- side kick to the gut! A sudden knee trembler is the followup, before The Wolf twists Beretta’s neck and drives his face into his knee! In the same shot can Kolotov’s swinging STO slam to Victoire be seen.
Cut to Cheriè watches along as Kolotov forces her sister back into the unlucky corner. Not having it, in a fit of anger, goes to assist her twin by running along the apron to Leslie’s side and scoring against the unwitting Jones with a basement dropkick to the knees! Jones is down! Rough fall on the arena floor! Kolotov attempts a clothesline that’s turned into a hot shot against him! Cheriè uses his head to pull him under the top rope to her side of the apron and begins with a few forearms to the chin! Victoire has been given just enough time, now on the outside and pulling Kolotov down by the legs, his head smacking against the side of the ring! In that moment, Leslie is up and striking the recovered Belanger, as Cheriè gets on Kolotov, all leading to an outside brawl between both teams! Referee Emerson exits the ring to try and stop the fray as he can.
Cut to the ring, where Trent Beretta and The Wolf collide in the center of the ring with a double clothesline.
Cut to Chuck Taylor, noticing that absolutely no one including the referee is paying attention to him. Slyly, he drops off the apron and begins toward the commentary booth.
Cut to both Beretta and The Wolf still down from the double-maneuver.
Cut to the outside brawl.
Cut to Chuck very politely asking Mark Beverly for the steel foldable chair he sits on, and the ring announcer’s cooperation.
Cut to The Wolf stirring first, nearly on his knees as Beretta rolls toward the nearest ropes.
Cut to Chuck walking around the bend, chair in hand -- CHAIRSHOT! TO THE KNEES, TAKING AN IDEA FROM CHERIÈ BUT THIS BLOW IS TO THE JUDGE WHO CRUMBLES! BUT STILL, THE JUDGE ATTEMPTS TO STAND!
CHAIRSHOT TO THE HEAD FROM TAYLOR!
AND ANOTHER ONE SINCE THE FIRST DIDN’T DROP HIM!
The Wolf hears the second blow, now finally on his feet, and turns.
AND TAYLOR WAS ON THE APRON WAITING -- CHAIRSHOT TO THE DOME OF THE WOLF!
Taylor tosses the chair and rolls underneath the bottom rope, pulling The Wolf up with him.
Cut to Emerson on the outside, giving up on stopping the mindless brawl going on between Savoir Faire and Shut Up Smack Down and turning to see Taylor putting The Wolf in cradle back-to-belly position!
Cut to the hard camera, where we see Trent ascending the top rope, Houston standing to their feet as he gets ready. He’s off.
THE FOOT STOMP! AS CHUCK DROPS FOR THE PILEDRIVER!
Taylor doesn’t waste time in getting off and rolling out of the ring as Emerson rolls in! Beretta drags The Wolf away from the ropes and hooks the leg!
Emerson Fofão: ONE!........
TWO!.......
THREE!
DING DING DING
Christian Cage: Sometimes you just gotta go that extra mile!
At the sound of the bell, the outside brawl stops and all four participants look into the ring, realizing what’s occurred. Best Friends make a quick beeline out of the ring and begin their celebration while walking backwards up the ramp. Emerson runs to catch up with them, in order to raise their hands.
Mark Beverly: The winners of this match -- Trent Beretta and Chuck Taylor: BEST! FRRRRRRIENDS!
Emerson is finally able to grab hold of both their wrists when they’re at the top of the stage then raises their victorious arms.
Best Friends win the Quadruple Tag Team match in 10:05
A crossfade into another scene.
Laci Valentine
Urrrg.
The grumble radiates from underneath the face of a hung-over Laci Valentine. She has it so eloquently mashed against the wooden four seater kitchen table that her and Lucy share.
Lucy Richards
Good night?
Lucy asks, pouring them both each a cup of black coffee from an outdated pot.
Laci Valentine
No. I feel like I was run over by our rented van. On top of that... I kissed him!
Lucy returns to the table, setting a mug with a kitten hanging from a tree with the caption, 'Hang in there, Babe' in front of Laci.
Lucy Richards
So. I kissed Panda.
She shrugs as if it's not a big deal. Laci raises her head, staring at her friend.
Laci Valentine
And nobody knew that until you just told me. Everyone saw us.
Lucy takes a sip, appearing as if she were thinking about what she was going to say next.
Lucy Richards
Are you embarrassed that you kissed him? Seemed to me that you were both getting along pretty well before you got too drunk to control your libido.
Laci Valentine
Yes... I mean no. Not that I kissed him specifically, just that I was so drunk I had no control over my actions.
Lucy starts laughing and shakes her head.
Lucy Richards
If you can remember it, you had control. You like him. You wanted to kiss him, maybe more by the way we all had to pry you two apart…
Laci Valentine
Lucy!
Lucy shrugs her shoulders.
Lucy Richards
You're overthinking it. Honestly, I'd be more worried about that Priscilla chick and the damage you did to her statue than what people will say about you locking lips with Spud.
Laci puts her head back flat against the table face first.
Laci Valentine
Urrrg!
Lucy Richards
Drink your coffee, it will help clear your head. Then you can text Spud.
Laci shakes her head.
Laci Valentine
Why should I text him first? He should text me. I'm not going to put myself out there only for him to reject me. What if I'm not his type?
Lucy starts laughing.
Laci Valentine
What?
Lucy Richards
Believe me, I don't think that's his issue... if he even has one. Laci, sweetheart, have you not seen you? You are gorgeous. You are smart and you're a God-damned marvel in a wrestling ring. If anything he might think you're out of his league and think you don't want anything to do with him.
Laci Valentine
Yeah, a marvel that can't win a match.
Lucy Richards
Get out of your own head. That's your issue. You focus too much on things. Just.... let it go…
Laci looks up.
Laci Valentine
Is this pay back for that 'next right thing', thing?
Lucy smirks over her coffee cup.
They both look up when they hear the bathroom door open and within seconds the dark-haired vagrant that Laci forgot was staying with them, sits at the empty place at the table.
Lucy Richards
What we talking about?
Zaylee says, taking Lucy's cup and sipping. She screws up her face.
Zaylee
Gross. You like it black?
Laci Valentine
We're hung over.
Laci quips. Zaylee rolls her eyes.
Zaylee
I think you're just embarrassed you kissed that idiot from your company. I get it. I like skinny odd guys too.
Even though it's black and Zaylee obviously is not a fan, she continues to drink it, forcing Lucy to get another cup for herself.
Laci Valentine
I never said I was embarrassed it was him. Just embarrassed that everyone saw it.
Zaylee smirks.
Zaylee
That's the same thing.
Laci Valentine
No it's not. I'm not a PDA kinda girl.
Zaylee
How many guys have you been with?
Laci sighs deeply but before she can expertly dodge,
Laci Valentine
Just one. This Aussie guy that used her.
Lucy replies from the kitchenette.
Lucy Richards
Interesting. It's like if you don't find a guy who mentally abuses you, you don't give him a second thought. Does this tie into that double whammy of being abandoned by your sperm donor AND the mental abuse suffered from your pig of a Step-father?
Laci is getting aggravated by the woman.
Laci Valentine
I don't want to talk about it.
Zaylee
So yes. Now we're getting somewhere…
Laci suddenly stands up, fighting the pounding in her head.
Laci Valentine
I am not talking about this with YOU. I don't know you. You just made yourself welcome in our home and then insert yourself into our lives like you actually give a shit. I still haven't forgotten that despite having the resources to pay for a place to live, you broke into my friends gym and then manipulated Lucy into letting you stay here too. Eating our food, using our electricity. Then you come in here and act like you're so much better than me and offer your opinions on my life like you are perfect.
Zaylee sets the mug down but doesn't actually face Laci as she responds.
Zaylee
I know because I have been there. My parents died when I was twelve in a plane crash. I had to live with my snobby aunt and uncle. My uncle sexually assaulted me until he went into a mysterious diabetic coma and died…
She takes a sip but not before Laci catches the odd smile on her face.
Zaylee
...and my aunt treated me like a second class citizen. I ran away because I couldn't take it anymore. The only reason I have money is because when my aunt finally kicked the bucket, I was the only surviving family left. I was used to living like I had nothing and to this day, I donate my money without a thought. I even own a house but I can't stay in one place. I can't settle anywhere. You know how hard it is to be away from a guy that just wants you for you, yet patiently waits for the times I happen to breeze through whatever town he's in? But I can't help it because my mind is permanently in survival mode.
She's said this all in a calm voice.
Laci Valentine
I'm sorry.... I didn't…
Zaylee
Can it. I didn't tell you to get sympathy. I just wanted you to know that I get it. And don't worry, I've been giving Lucy cash for letting me stay here. I really do appreciate the company, which normally I don't. Maybe I'm changing.
Laci takes her seat again, a newfound respect for the dark haired beauty.
Zaylee
So like Lucy said, you should text that guy, cuz if you don't, you'll kick yourself in the ass for it.
Laci pulls her phone out of her hoodie and stares at Spud's contact information.
Zaylee
It doesn't have to be a love poem. Just say hi for fucks sake. You know you act like this tough broad but inside you are just as much a gooey silly heart as every other woman.
Laci opens up a text screen and before she chickens out types "hey" and presses send.
Fade to commercial.
We return to yet another scene.
A rusty and beaten down volvo, painted blandly red, pulls up adjacent to the driveway of an old bungalow in the pristine and kind streets of Guildford, England. Out of the car, looking very out of place, is the dark and brooding Vampire, Alaric Dracislav. He clears his throat, as he looks at the kindly bungalow ahead of him, before walking up the driveway, and knocking on the door.
After a few seconds, the door swings open, and a sweet old ginger lady looks up at Alaric through her spectacles. Upon her old eyes finally focussing on the Vampire, the old woman gives out a warm and overjoyed smile as she hugs him tightly.
Old Woman
Oh! Jerry! Oh Jerry it's so wonderful to see you! Oh my cutie-bum has returned home!
Alaric grunts, as he accepts the hug from his mother.
Alaric
Jerry is no more I told you, it is Alaric now mother.
Mum
Of course Alaric! Your cute little vampire name how could I forget!
Alaric
It is not cute mother, it strikes fear into the hearts of my opponents!
Mum
Of course it does sweetie of course it does! They're all terrified of you!
Alaric's mother boops his nose. Alaric sighs.
Mum
Phil! Phil honey! Come in the kitchen look who it is!
Footsteps sound, and suddenly arrives a pink faced, rotund, and incredibly jolly looking old fellow. He grins from ear to ear as he looks at Alaric. This is Alaric's father.
Dad
Well tickle my toes, if it isn't the Blade himself!
Alaric's parents both laugh, as his father moves over and starts giving him soft, playful punches on the arm.
Alaric
It is not THE Blade… it is just Blade.
Alaric's father hugs him now too.
Dad
And that accent! You've really got it mastered now! You sound just like ooh- what's his name?
Mum
Who played Dracula?
Dad
Who played Dracula yeah what's he called… B… Buhh… it begins with a-
Alaric sighs.
Alaric
Bela Lugosi.
Dad
Bela Lugosi! Sound just like him!
Mum
Oooh he does. He does! Or that vampire from the Sesame Street!
Dad
Oh yeah definitely definitely.
Mum
Anyway get your legs up Jerry- oop! Alaric! I'll make you a cuppa.
Alaric starts to move with his father through into the living room.
Dad
Yeah! Let's getting chatting about the AWF! Been watching you every week, we're so proud son! Of you and-
Alaric
Do not mention brother Kolotov! I do not want to even think about him right now.
Dad
Oh… well… ummm…
The pair step into the living room, which has been adorned with Hawaii Bone-O merchandise. The carpet, the clock, the sofa covers, statue and action figures, a gigantic poster on the wall. All of it is of Kolotov. Alaric looks ready to be sick.
Dad
Let's sit in the conservatory instead!
CUT TO
Alaric, his mum, and his dad, all sat in the conservatory in an awkward silence. Alaric eyeballs the mug that his father drinks from, a Hawaii Bone-O mug. His dad gulps.
Dad
We ummm- smashed my mug so this is the only one we have left…
Mum
If there was a mug with your face on it sweetie, we'd buy that in a heartbeat!
Alaric nods morosely. He looks down at his feet quite sadly.
Alaric
I do not know if you watched the latest episode of the AWF…
Mum
We did.
Alaric
Kolotov has turned his back on me. After all I did for him. And he leaves me for that stupid Skeleton man!
Dad
It's just a little brotherly spat that's all. You'll be back on track before long. Brothers always fight.
Alaric
I never fight with Percy! How is he doing by the way?
Mum
Really well cutie, he asks about you all the time he's really proud!
Dad
He's supporting us with his Guildford Helicopter tours.
Alaric
Has that taken off yet?
Mum
...well, no. Not really. There's not much in Guildford to tour really.
Dad
It's quite a boring place yeah. But I mean, people like the helicopter rides, those are fun.
Mum
I mean we've never been in one.
Dad
We haven't… but I'd assume they're fun.
Alaric
Are you stable? Financially?
Dad
Don't worry about that son. We'll get by.
He slaps his son on the leg. Alaric nods.
Alaric
I do not need Kolotov anyway! I am a singles competitor now and I do not have that young fool holding me back! I am up against Laci Valentine next week.
Mum
Oh! She's lovely isn't she! So pretty! What's she like?
Alaric
Mother! That is not important! This is my opportunity to show that I do not need Kolotov, that I can fight on my own. That I was always the better brother.
Dad
Maybe it's not about being the better brother mate, maybe it's just about-
Alaric
No it is! I want to show Kolotov that he needs me like I need hi- UMM! Like! Like nothing! That he needs me! That's it! The sentence ends there!
Alaric's mother and father nod at one another.
Mum
Alright cutie-bum. We understand.
Alaric
Also, can I stay the night?
Mum
Of course of course! Oh we'd love that wouldn't we Phil!
Dad
We would June we would!
Alaric smiles.
CUT TO
Night has fallen, and we are in Alaric and Kolotov's old bedroom, where Alaric has climbed his way onto the top bunk which used to be his. He wraps himself up in his Blade bedding, as his mother climbs halfway up the ladder and hands him a hot water bottle. She smiles warmly at Alaric.
Mum
Been ages since I've seen you like this. In your Blade bedding. God you loved that film you two, couldn't get you to stop watching it.
Alaric
I still do love the film.
Alaric's mother smiles.
Mum
I think I can tell sweetie. Here, I want you to have this.
His mother pulls out a necklace from her pocket, and hands it to Alaric. It is a rather rustic looking, vampiric cross, with a little switch in the middle.
Mum
Thought you might like it, we got it from a tat shop in Greece.
Alaric flicks the switch and a flame comes out of the top of it.
Mum
It's a necklace AND a lighter. Handy that isn't it.
Alaric
I do not smoke mother.
Mum
No… but it's still cool.
Alaric looks at it again, as he keeps flicking the switch that ignites the top of the cross.
Alaric
It is very cool. Thank you mother.
Mum
No worries sweetie. You've got this house to come back to whenever you want. Me, and your dad, and Percy… we all love you very much. We love both of you. And your brother loves you too. Just let him realise that, because he will. I promise.
Alaric nods.
Mum
And good luck with your match against that lovely Laci girl. See if you can ask her out we'd love to have her over.
Alaric
I barely know her mother!
Mum
Alright alright! I won't push.
Alaric's mother leans over, and kisses him on the forehead. Alaric smiles.
Mum
I love you so much my cutie-bum.
Alaric
I love you too mummy.
Alaric's mother smiles as she moves out of the room, flicking out the light as she does. Alaric is left in the darkness, suddenly illuminated as he clicks the lighter necklace in his hand. He looks into the orange flame, reflected in his eyes, before clicking it out once more, and being plunged back into darkness.
Crossfade into a close-up of a legendary face: Jim Ross’. From there we pan out, but all the attention fully stays on Ross.
Cut to another camera to show Steve Austin himself is the one holding the camera responsible for such a view.
Cut back to the JR-only view.
Jim Ross: Welcome back to PrimeTime, where next we have the highly anticipated Trial of Big Homunculus. Finally, Cage --
Christian is still not visible.
Jim Ross: -- will we get to the bottom of this Roderick Kross situation! AWF’s newest backstage producers will preside over the matter, the incomparable D-Generation X: Triple H & Shawn Michaels! Now: the Trial.
Crossfade.
A television courtroom similar to Marilyn Milian’s The People’s Court, although obviously set up relatively hastily in the backstage area of the Toyota Center.
Cut to the double doors of the courtroom from a hard camera. The doors swing open, but nobody can be seen. The nameplate 'PLAINTIFF: RODERICK KROSS’ typewriters out in the left corner of the screen, despite no one being spotted yet, and the over-dramatic voiceover begins.
Harvey Levin (voiceover)
This is the plaintiff: RODERICK! KROSS! He claims the defendant blew the house of his mother, and didn’t even have the balls to show up the event to avenge her if he did! He’s the classic case of a wussy! Well you know what they say: if you can’t stand the heat, get out the kitchen!
The smaller doors, between the audience and the section of the court reserved for the litigants and the judges, and finally can we see Roderick Kross. It’s not that he wasn’t there, it’s just José Figueiras made him into a fucking midget. He hobbles over next to his lawyer, who sits at their desk already, awaiting his arrival.
Cut back to the double doors as the song restarts from the top. They swing open aggressively as fuck as Big Homunuclus’ arms damn near decimate the hinges on the single push. His expression is serious, and this man can clearly be seen, nearly hitting his head on the television lights that hang just a bit too low, right above for him.
Harvey Levin (voiceover)
This is the defendant: everyone loves him because he’s the antithesis of Roderick Kross’ bitchass. This is the case of: Air Boom!
No one laughs at this pun, as it’s just shit. Classic Harvey Levin. Through the second set of doors does Homunculus go, immediately greeted by Ruxx Rampede and Black Clyde who already await him.
Cut to a view, from the backs of Triple H & Shawn Michaels in their full, 1700s judge attire (as expected, yes, with the powdered wigs and all), as the bailiff marches in front of the stand to address the crowd.
Bailiff Chris DeAngelo
(raising his right hand) All parties, please raise your right hand.
This entire introduction has been remixed and plays; wherever there is Marilyn Milian, physically or verbally mentioned, it has been switched for D-Generation X; wherever there is The People’s Court there is now The Little People’s Court:
Bailiff Chris DeAngelo
Be seated, come to order please. (turning and handing over his paperwork to the Couple’s Court style situated desk) Here you go, your honors.
Cut to a good view of ONLY Triple H and Shawn Michaels.
Triple H
Alright, let’s get this shit starteduh.
Shawn Michaels
Binman! Big Bad Binny Daddy! The Bineruno! The Adventures of Bin-Bin!
Does a very Shawn Michaels shoulder jive as he stands out of his seat, then does the Kliq-exaggerated-double point toward Ruxx Rampede.
Shawn Michaels
You first, daddy-o!
Ruxx turns to Big Homunculus, who shakes so violently because of nerves that the whole room shakes like Jurassic Park. Because of the shaking, a ceiling light falls down and crushes a woman in the jury and kills her. Ruxx turns to the Judges, HBK and Triple H.
Ruxx Rampede
My client is not responsible for that.
Shawn Michaels
We'll allow it.
HBK slams the judge glovel or whatever it's fucking called for no reason. Ruxx turns to Homunculus and throws a glass of water in his face to calm him down. The glass slips out of his hand and clonks Homunculus on the head. He barely notices and keeps shaking.
Ruxx Rampede
Brother calm down. I'll get you out of this I swear. I got an idea.
Triple H
Can the defence please give their argument. That's you bin man.
Triple H slams the glovel this time. They clearly don't know how to be judges. I fucking love DX man. Ruxx gets to his feet, briefcase in hand.
Ruxx Rampede
Hello ladies, gentlemen, and corpses of the jury. I am Ruxx Rampede, Big Homunculus' lawyer, and I am here to tell you that if you think Big Homunculus did this shit, you are racist as fuck.
The jury look nervous as the race card is brought out. Ruxx points at Roderick dwarf.
Ruxx Rampede
That little mother pisser is a paedophile. He fucks children! He does!
Roderick's mum starts to cry.
Ruxx Rampede
She's crying cos she's seen it happen. She knows he does it. He's a child fucker.
Roderick's lawyer, some big fat white nigga called fucking Norbert or something, stands up.
Norbert
That is anti-semitism!
Ruxx Rampede
What?
Norbert
My client is Jewish! You're clearly only insulting him for that reason! Remember the Holocaust. That was pretty bad.
Ruxx starts wafting at his face, pulling at his collar as he starts to sweat. He runs back over to Homunculus and throws himself head first over the desk.
Ruxx Rampede
I didn't know this nigga was Jewish! What the fuck! I can't use the race card now! Someone buy some time! I need to reformat the argument!
Black Clyde
I'm on it.
Black Clyde runs into the middle of the room, and faces everyone. He rips off his shirt, and starts making his pecs dance. Everyone in the room starts clapping along. DX are really impressed. Ruxx writes hastily.
Big Homunculus
Does this mean I am going to prison.
Ruxx Rampede
I'm not letting that happen nigga. Wait… I GOT IT! JOHNNIE COCHRAN!
Ruxx tosses the desk over as he moves back into the middle of the room, tagging out Black Clyde who moves back over to his seat, still making his pecs dance the whole time.
Ruxx pulls out a glove from his pocket. It's like a fucking normal winter glove.
Ruxx Rampede
This, ladies and gentlemen, is the glove that was used by the nigga that threw that fucking dynamite into Mrs Roderick's window.
The Jury look fucking convinced. So do DX. Even Roderick's mum is like 'oh shit yeah'.
Ruxx Rampede
Now, if this glove doesn't fuckin fit my client, then that means he didn't do this shit.
Ruxx moves over to Homunculus, who is still shaking.
Big Homunculus
What if the glove does fit me?
Ruxx Rampede
Nigga your hands are like 5 feet tall!
Big Homunculus
What?
Ruxx Rampede
Nevermind. It won't fit trust me.
Ruxx puts the glove on Homunculus' hand, and it barely fits over even one of his long as fuck fingers. The Jury start to clap.
Ruxx Rampede
If the glove doesn't fit, you must acquit!
The Jury all start to chant.
Jury
If the glove doesn't fit, you must acquit! If the glove doesn't fit, you must acquit!
DX and Roderick's mum both get in on this chant. Roderick gets mad at her.
Roderick
He blew up your house mum! It's on fucking video!
Ruxx Rampede
I rest my case.
Norbert
Well I don't. I have a few questions to ask the man himself… I call Big Homunculus to the stand!
Homunculus cries out as tears fall from his eyes. Black Clyde and Ruxx both hug Homunculus.
Black Clyde
You're okay brother! You got this! Go up there and give em hell!
Ruxx Rampede
He's right my nigga. You're gonna beat this shit.
Homunculus stands up and moves to the front bit. Norbert moves over to him like the fat piece of shit he is. Homunculus' vision is filled by the incredibly fat, pink, sweating mass that is Norbert. More bacon than man, he wreaks of shyst (shyst: to act greedy in a certain matter).
Shawn flexes his biceps for no reason in particular.
Norbert speaks with the accent of an affluent Kentucky gentleman. A real Colonel Sanders type. Unless Ruxx specified he had a different accent and I forgot.
Norbert
Well, Mr. Homunculus, rap with me brother. Let's forget all these legal shenanigans and just talk jive like two brothers. We ain't got nothin' between us boy. I actually think Kendrick Lamar is A-OK if ya just ignore the lyrics. Just be free with me homie.
Black Clyde literally vomits.
]Big Homunculus
Oh no I do not like this. Please make it stop. If I plead guilty can this conversation end? Please?
Ruxx Rampede
No wet wipes dipped in Pepsi for a month if you plead guilty!
Big Homunculus
I will be strong. I will listen to this condescending gibberish. Not for freedom but for Pepsi.
Norbert
Very well. Now could you identify the man I am pointing to?
Norbert points at Triple H.
Big Homunculus
No.
Norbert
No?
Big Homunculus
No but I like his deep brow furrows they are very nice.
Norbert
Well alrighty then. I was trying to undermine your relationship with the judge by asking what you thought of the culmination of Triple H's feud with Booker T, however I cannot lie I did not foresee you not knowing who he was. A mighty fine curveball ya threw me there, sir.
Norbert was already sweating, but now it starts to flows from his pours to the extent it has flooded the floor of the courtroom. The water is rising.
Norbert
Could you please do a southern gentleman a favour and stand up for me? Come stand next to me?
Homunculus stands next to Norbert, towering over him.
Norbert
Who is taller out of me and you, sir?
Big Homunculus
Why must you mock me? Of course you loom over me like a giant red wood.
Norbert raises an eye to the jury, and the surviving members chuckle.
Norbert
I don't know about you, but I do not find this man's judgement to be entirely trustworthy.
Roderick looks up from his phone and sneers at Homunculus. Roderick then returns to looking at his phone, presumably to send winking smileys to men pretending to be women on twitter or write a 4chan post saying how it's feminism's fault he's an adult virgin or something. Seriously, look up his twitter it's revolting lmao.
Norbert
As your, ahem, lawyer pointed out, if the glove don't fit you must acquit. What a pleasant little rhyme. However the glove did fit. It fit over one finger. If Mr. Homunculus were to wear, say, five gloves for one hand then it very much does fit. Let me make up my own rhyme. If five gloves fit, give this no good freak the electric chair! Oh wait that didn't rhyme.
Homunculus starts to shake uncontrollably.
Norbert
Now for the final nail in the coffin! I'd like to call a surprise witness. A well renowned airline pilot who had nothing to with 9/11 - unlike some people.
Norbert glares at Ruxx who grins for some reason.
Norbert
Mister Jose Figueiras.
The doors open and
WHAT
IS
HAPPENING
TO THE FONT!!!!?
IT'S
JOSÉ FIGUEIRAS.
The jury erupt into a frenzy of delight as Joseé Figueiras wades through the now knee deep pool of Norbert-sweat that is the courtroom. The woman who was crushed by the falling light comes back to life to cheer for José, but because her body is still crushed under a light she is screaming both in admiration for José, and also because she is in truly unimaginable pain. The merciful thing would be to kill her, and everyone in attendance knows this, but nobody is brave enough. Her gut wrenching screams continue for the rest of the segment, neh, the entire primetime show.
José dives into the sweat like a dolphin before erupting back out and flashes his trademark wink at the jury. Cum everywhere.
The jury-cum mixes with the Norbert-sweat so the floor of the courtroom is now a repugnant Quagmire of bodily fluids.
José Figuerias
José Figiueras!
Roderick grins as he sees his master. Or maybe he's grinning because a strange man on twitter is flirting with him, who knows?
Homunculus grinds his teeth as Jose holds the jury in the palm of his hand.
Big Homunculus
He turns so-called men into midgets! No man should have that power. He is a demon who thinks himself a god. If this were a place of worship his skin would set on fire upon entry!
Jose Figueiras pulls out a tape recorder and plays some samba music. Jose then gives Roderick a long straw so he can drink the jury-cum-norbert-sweat that is rising past knee level because that's what Roderick likes to drink because he thinks it tastes good.
José Figeurasi
My friend Roderick, do you enjoy playing PS4?
Roderick
No! You know I don't!
José Figuerias
Why not?
Roderick
Because my mother wouldn't buy me one! Why do you have to bring this up, you know it makes me cry when you bring this up!
José Fiigueras
What do you want to do when you remember she wouldn't by you a PS4, and probably won't buy you a PS5?
Roderick
I just wanna play tekashi69 at full volume in my ear phones and break stuff and blow stuff up. That bitch! I hate her!
José F!gueras
If you could cause her to be somehow eliminated along with all her worldly possessions, would you take that option?
Roderick
Of course! I've not even played Fortnite thanks to her. At this rate I'll never grow up to be big and handsome like Jim Cornette.
The jury simultaneously say "Uuucchh I can't believe that weird little fuck's world view is so skewed that his standard for male beauty is set by fucking Jim Cornette!? How the fuck do people like this exist? I have been alienated to the point where I could never side with this man on any matter, including those that are disputed within the legal system."
Norbert
You do realise, Mr. Figiiieuras, that you were called upon by the prosecution, to help the cause of your employee.
José looks at Norbert, smiles and winks.
José Figueiras
J
O
S
É
F
I
G
U
E
I
R
A
S
And just like that, José is gone.
Homunculus and his brothers are in optimistic silence.
Norbert
Mr. Hunter Helmsley and Mr. Michaels I would like to play the AnyTimeSuperStarChargeSwitchPass.
Shawn Michaels
(crotch chop) Granted!
Norbert
I am changing the charge aimed at Mr. Homunculus from an arson charge, to that of slander, due to the slanderous and baseless accusations of noncery thrown at my client by those representing Mr. Homunculus.
Ruxx Rampede
Oooooh look at you with the fuckin' "my client". Man must think he's motherfuckin' Paul Heyman or some shit. Bitch, Paul Heyman looks like Chris Masters next to your gelatinous scotch egg in a vat of lard-lookin', high cholesterol, type 2 diabetes-having-ass bitch.
Norbert
You may think that's funny, however I am actually very self conscious about my weight and appearance, and your barbed observations have hurt me deeply.
Ruxx and Homunculus both burst out laughing.
Norbert
That being said, I do not hear any sort of defense of my slander charge, so I believe this is an open and shut case.
Triple H really slowly raises the gavel to pass a guilty charge of slander over Homunculus. I know the jury haven't had a say but if you think that's a problem then that just shows you don't know how the AnyTimeSuperStarChargeSwitchPass works so don't question the logic of this segment because you'll make a fool of yourself. Read a fuckin' book.
Homunculus looks at Black Clyde for assistance.
Black Clyde
If you think about squeezing you elbows together during a bench press, rather than just pushing the weight away, you'll get better pectoral activation!
This isn't the advice Homunculus needed. He looks at Ruxx who mouths a familiar piece of wisdom. Homunculus looks down and whispers to himself as tears fill his eyes. The hammer is really slowly coming down on his freedom.
Big Homunculus
I am a good dwarf. I am a pleasant...I am a...I am a...
Homunculus remembers Hayley Littleton's face looking at him in disgust. He remembers her saying "You piece of shit."
Big Homunculus
I am a piece of shit.
Roderick
You sure are.
Homunculus looks at Roderick and grins.
Big Homunculus
I am a real piece of shit.
Homunculus places his hand over the wooden thing the gavel hits but to be honest the speed HHH is swinging that hammer he won't hit the wooden thing for ages.
Big Homunculus
I went into your family home with ill intention because I'm a piece of shit. Because I'm a piece of shit, I went in there to hurt your honour. Because I'm a piece of shit I stole your great grandfather's urn. Because I'm a piece of shit, a cunt you could say. How could you support me if I'm a cunt? Well I looked in the urn and I found this.
Homunculus reaches his hand into his own throat until he's elbow deep and retrieves a memory stick and holds it in the air. Roderick stares at the memory stick, petrified.
Big Homunculus
What could be worse than a cunt?
Ruxx Rampede
A pedophile!
Big Homunculus
Would you like to find out what is on here, or would you like to drop the case, prosecutor?
Norbert stares petrified, without anything to say. Triple H shakes his head.
Triple H
Think Pat Patterson was already showing that one around years back.
Triple H goes to slam the glovel, or whatever the fuck they called it earlier, but Shawn Michaels can’t be bothered to wait and slams his faster. The two men look at each and shrug in unison. No one knows why they’ve done this.
Triple H
With the power invested in me, totally not by Steve Austin signing D-Generation X into a plan B for his plan to take over this entire company by way of Attitude Era stars wrestlers invading or anything like that: I, Hunter Hearst Paul Terra Levesque Ryzing Helmsley declare you Roderick Kross of not only being a nonce, but an embarrassment to the industry. Mongo McMichael is better than your bitchass.
Shawn Michaels grits his teeth. Triple H stands up dramatically, his glovel pointed directly at the midget. Not the dwarf, the midget.
Triple H
I CAST YOU OUT!
All the lights in the courtroom go green as the song blasts right into the badass part. In the double doors bust the dancing pallbearers, casket on shoulders, and upon seeing the men coming in his direction Roderick Kross attempts to get away.
BUT HE RUNS INTO A SWEET CHIN MUSIC!
RIGHT INTO TRIPLE H’S GUT KICK! HOOK OF THE TINY ARMS! PEDIGREE ON A MIDGET IN THE MIDDLE OF THE COURTROOM!
The pallbearers quickly grab the small body, toss it into the coffin, and begin a procession out of the doors.
Cut to Roderick Kross’ mother, who says with joyful tears in her eyes: The evil is defeated.
Behind them follows a celebratory conga line, totally off rhythm with the D-Generation X theme playing through every single speaker in the arena. Three Big Niggas & DX (having removed their judge outfits to reveal the normal NEW OFFICIAL AWF D-GENERATION X SHIRT AVAILABLE ON AWFCORNERSTORE.COM t-shirt and jeans gig) have taken the kaboose.
In the corner of the screen as they walk past catering can be seen Steve Austin talking to Kendrick Kross and Tony Savage over a hamburger and a brewski. He offers up the beer as a toast to the case, and before long the conga line has gone one way, while DX and 3BN have gone toward Gorilla, picking up a sack on a table on the way.
Cut to the stage, as green lights flash and strobe all around the Toyota Center. Out of the curtain come all five individuals: Shawn Michaels crotch chopping away, Ruxx Rampede behind him just as hyped, then Triple H with the sack throwing glow sticks out of it then handing a few to Ruxx and Black Clyde behind him, who passes some to Big Homunculus behind him. All armed with them before reaching ringside, they work the crowd for a while, causing the song to loop but everyone having a proper good time.
Eventually HBK is the first to roll underneath the bottom rope, so Triple H begins to scale the steps. 3BN find their way into the ring and everyone takes their place: Triple H & Shawn Michaels were they usually are with their arms out, Ruxx in between them, with Big Homunculus taking the left turnbuckle and Clyde the right.
In unison, perfect, beautiful unison: the crotch chops in synch with the pyrotechnics! Houston has been treated to a hell of a show so far and show their appreciation for it in spades!
But what’s this?! Kendrick Kross and Tony Savage have snuck into the ring and begun attack the Three Big Niggas! The music and lights stop! D-Generation X gets away from the scene as Ruxx yells to them that they’ve got it!
Cut to Stone Cold coming out from the curtain with referee Charles Robinson in tow, an aggressive hand pulling him by his shirt. There he goes! The Robinson slide into the ring!
Ding!
And by the time he’s in there, Black Clyde is Eddie Guerreroing on a turnbuckle, as SAVAGE GETS HIT WITH THE RAMPEDE STAMPEDE! AND HOMUNCULUS IS LAYING IN THE CEMENTING BLOW OF THE TORNADO ON KENDRICK KROSS!
BOTH MEN COVER! ROBINSON USES BOTH HANDS!
Charles Robinson: ONE!.......
TWO!......
THREE!
DING DING DING
Cut to Austin, jogging down the ramp with a smile, then rolling under the bottom rope. All three of the people in the ring look at Austin with looks of distrust, and hints of disgust. Stone Cold looks at all three men, apparently not quite processing the odd tension with how he keeps that grin on while he walks over to receive Mark Beverly’s mic.
Commissioner Austin
Kross? Savage?
Both men are totally out of it and can’t respond. Stone Cold is still unpleased, as made obvious by the boots he plants on both men’s ribs. Ruxx looks on, uncomfortable as the fight they started had already concluded.
Commissioner Austin
You two have been JOKES! You’re fired!
That hearty laugh of his comes out, as he walks over and slaps Ruxx on the chest as if in solidarity. All he gets in response are more unimpressed stares before 3BN clear the ring and the situation. Austin only shrugs.
As Ruxx and Big Homunculus walk up the ramp, Austin takes the opportunity with the two unconscious men for just two more stunners, popping a quite satisfied Houston.
Big Homunculus & Ruxx Rampede d. Kendrick Kross & Tony Savage in 0:07
Crossfade into a scene, with a familiar voice as a narrative voiceover.
Laci Valentine
I don't believe that Bigfoot, the loch-ness monster or werewolves exist so why should I believe this man is actually a vampire?
I know I look much better than I did a few days prior, in fact I think I almost have that sexy Librarian vibe going on with my hair up in a pony-tail and a pair of dark rimmed glasses that, spoiler, never seem to stay on my nose.
On the screen in front of me is one of my friends, Bliss Fischer. On her lap is her cherub of a son Clark and behind her are various boxes stacked to near toppling.
Bliss Fischer
You shouldn't. You know how many gimmicks I have seen in my years as a wrestler?
Bliss was not someone that trained me personally, but in the few times I had met her when she came home, we had developed a comradeship that I was thankful for.
Laci Valentine
I just seem to be hit and miss right now.
Bliss sighs.
Bliss Fischer
I get it. I was where you are. I tried so hard to win matches and just felt like I was on this never ending treadmill. Being in a debut situation doesn't just end after your first match. It lasts for a while, until you really hit your stride.
Bliss was a legend in her own right. She had virtually grown up living and breathing wrestling. Not unlike Bret and his family. I envied her.
Laci Valentine
I've lost three opportunities for titles now.
Bliss shrugs and my eyebrows go up as I stare at her in shock of how nonchalant she is.
Bliss Fischer
So? It's not like there won't be more opportunities. You work hard and make your paces, it will come.
I had to admit, it wasn't what I wanted to hear, but it may just be what I needed to hear. I hated that expression though. That and 'tough love' both just grind my gears, hardcore.
And of course at the mental mention of 'hardcore' my mind wonders back to the bondage bash and Spud. Who STILL hadn't texted me back. Maybe I was overthinking this. Maybe he wasn't into it being more than what it was, yet I can't help staring at the unanswered text screen long after I had hung up from Bliss. I hated that this drove me nuts.
Zaylee
Hey Ginge.
Zaylee strides into the apartment looking like a model in a tight fitting black dress and capri tights. Gone was the hoodie that seemed to be a second skin. It allowed me to see something tattooed on her wrist but I wasn't about to ask about it, least I get a snarky comment back.
Laci Valentine
I really wish you would stop calling me that.
Zaylee smirks at me.
Zaylee
You are wound tight. You need to find that spud guy and just bone him already.
I sigh deeply, counting back in my head from ten. It had worked so many times to keep me from lashing out irrationally. Zaylee actually laughs.
Zaylee
Man, are all the trainees out of Olympia little angels? I have met two of you now and both of you gotta follow this imaginary rule book. Come on, I'm going to take you somewhere.
Laci Valentine
And end up with you leaving me to get gang raped or something? No, I don't trust you…
And before I know it, this girl, who was shorter than me I might add, is hauling me over her shoulder and heading out the door.
Laci Valentine
Put me down Zaylee! Come on…
Of course I fight to get free but she's smart and has me in a hold at a rotten angle. Of course this is doing absolutely nothing for my self esteem which was seriously lacking.
She doesn't set me on my feet again until we reach the pavement outside our building.
Zaylee
We're going to see a friend of mine.
Great. I still didn't trust Zaylee, however she was like that friend you had in high school. The one who broke all the rules and made you uncomfortable but in the same respect was wicked fun at the same time. I had a friend like that. Until she grew tired of having to 'force' me to break out of my introverted mould and found a new pound of clay to work with. I didn't regret having been friends with her though, if only for the fact that it made me stronger and less doormat-ish. Of course, that seems to be moot now as I follow reluctantly behind Zaylee who reminded me of Jessica so much.
She finally stops, it's about two blocks from the building. It's an old strip mall that was probably built in the late 60's. Seemingly uncommon in Toronto given that most of these were unceremoniously torn down to make way for condos or more gear to income housing. The neon is blatantly annoying as the offer of 'psychic readings' is burned into my retinas.
Laci Valentine
Seriously?
Zaylee pulls open the door which was blinds on it to block out any light, so naturally, the minimal light inside makes me feel more and more uncomfortable.
Zaylee
What have you got to lose?
I peak inside to see a list of the services that this charlatan had to offer.
Laci Valentine
(snarkily) 69.99. Plus applicable taxes.
Zaylee
I'll pay. Just come in and listen to what she has to say, you might be surprised.
Surprised that she probably would play on my body language and expertly worded questions that probed me for the right answers. I knew how this worked. If people really possessed these sort of 'gifts' then why hadn't they successfully predicted and prevented many of the world tragedies that had befell us. It was basically the same argument I had with my mother every time she tried to talk to me about 'accepting Jesus as my lord and savior' only that particular charlatan took 10% of my mum's Canada Pension yearly.
Reluctantly, I step inside. The inside of what was supposed to be probably a nail salon or consignment store was adored with silky looking drapes everywhere. There wasa table set up to the side, a ridiculous 'crystal ball' in the center. To the other side is a display case with a register and debit terminal. I scoff.
?
Welcome, Ms. Cleo saw you coming…
… A voice says from the back and I can't help rolling my eyes.
Laci Valentine
Saw me coming a mile away like most shysters…
Zaylee elbows me in the ribs.
Zaylee
Shut your trap.
A large European woman comes through a beaded entrance, she's donned herself in a full gypsy outfit including a scarf around her hair. Her olive skin is surprisingly clear and smooth. She then sees Zaylee and the whole act drops in an instant, including the accent.
Ms. Cleo
My dear! It's so good to see you. When did you get into town?
Zaylee
Few weeks ago. I'm not staying long. I got something to do in NYC.
Cleo smirks.
Ms. Cleo
Your young man…
Zaylee
Yeah. I haven't seen him in over a year so I have some things I gotta try and make up for. A lot has happened.
The woman nods.
Ms. Cleo
I can see it. You went through some big things this time. You want to stop running.
I had to wonder, did this woman really know Zay that well that she could see how she operated, enough that it would be easy to pick up on subtle changes in the way Zay was then to how she was now? I had no reference point so I wasn't able to make up my mind just yet. However, I was a woman of science, so without proof I remained skeptical.
Zaylee
So you think you could do a reading for my friend. A real one, not that shit you sell to…
She doesn't finish her sentence but I knew what she meant. The whole reason I believed Cleo and other people like her were just sideshow performers.
Ms. Cleo
Of course. She's a skeptic so you need something real to convince her.
She laughs.
Ms. Cleo
Come, let's see what we're working with.
She beckons me to sit at the table. She removes the crystal ball and pulls out a worn set of what I assume are tarot cards. She sits and starts to shuffle. Immediately she pulls a card with a hooded figure carrying a sickle. The death card. Wonderful.
The next card is the two of cups. She shuffles again and a card flies from the deck and hits me in the forehead.
Laci Valentine
Ow!
I run my figures over it only to be surprised that the edge of the card has given me a paper cut.
Ms. Cleo
Well... this card is something of grave importance.
She reaches in front of me to flip over the Queen of Cups.
Ms. Cleo
Hmm.
She moves the deck and another card slides out.
Ms. Cleo
Oh. More that the universe wants to tell you.
This one is 'the lovers'. A couple that are naked blazingly apparent that this card obviously must have something to do with my love life, or lack thereof.
The woman stares at the cards.
Zaylee
There is a lot here to digest. You are in the midst of a big moment. The death of the old you and birth of a new you.
Laci Valentine
You're not really proving anyth…
Zaylee
Shut up Laci.
I was starting to hate Zaylee again.
Ms. Cleo
I see a family member leaving you, tragically but yet it brings with it an inheritance and peace.
She looks up at me, her eyes going wide. "I know what you are thinking. No. Don't. The universe knows what he has done and he will be punished but not by you."
What in the ever loving fuck?!
I stand up.
Laci Valentine
I can't…
And just like that, I'm gone, leaving Zay and her freaky mind reading friend. Nobody knew that I wanted my step-father dead. I hadn't told anybody about that because if it came down to it I didn't want anyone being an accessory. How did she know....
I don't stop until I get to a park, sitting on a bench and just learning or rather forcing myself to breathe through the impending anxiety attack. It's at that precise moment my phone dings with a text.
"Hey yourself."
Spud. I look around nervously, wondering if he somehow knew I needed this. But the paranoid part of my brain is already thinking of a million scenarios. So I text Lucy.
She texts back jokingly, "maybe he's in the bushes... strumming his guitar...."
I can't help but laugh, breaking the tension and causing me to stop hyperventilating.
"So I was thinking, remember when you were talking about that dude who thinks he's a vampire?"
I type a quick reply.
She then sends me a picture of a tub of garlic butter she'd picked up while shopping.
"We'll just make you into the first human garlic loaf."
Man, Lucy. God (if there even was one) love you. I know I did.
I get another text. This one from Zaylee.
“Cleo wrote down the rest of your reading. She said that good things are coming, Ginge. See ya at home."
Good things. Sure. I guess we'd see.
Fade to commercial.
From our newest sponsor….
Fade back into a TNA style voyeur shot, of Steve Austin in his office. On loop is the Michael Jackson Pepsi Generation commercial. From here, we can see the commissioner performing the running man.
Stone Cold
YOU’RE A WHOLE NEW GENUUUUUHRAAAATION!
He hollers this in repetition, eventually turning into a Michael Jackson style spin that only succeeds 180° -- and he notices the cameraman. His eyes go wide and charges the handler.
Cut to the stage area of the arena.
The crowd, unfamiliar with the music, does not offer much of a reaction, but as Alaric Dracislav emerges in a new attire of black from head to toe, topped off with the leather jacket, they care even less.
Cut to a front row crowd member ringside.
Crowd Member: Oh this dude. Pissbreak.
Cut to a panning shot of the arena, folks immediately rising and walking toward the exit points of the arena. Nearly half the arena goes empty during the time of Alaric’s walk down the ramp.
Mark Beverly: The following contest is set for one fall! Introducing first, weighing two hundred sixty pounds: ALARIC! DRACISLAV!
Absolutely no response. Alaric can’t quite believe how quickly the arena nearly cleared out when he came out, as he just totally killed the vibe, but he grabs at the cross around his neck perhaps for comfort.
This theme song much more familiar by now, those still sat in their seats pop immediately. By the time Laci Valentine clears the curtain with a confident smirk, those who left are able to be seen trying to rush back to their seats, nachos, popcorn, and unzipped willies flying all over. On stage, she offers a pose with two rockstar gestures to garnish.
Mark Beverly: And his opponent, from Toronto, Ontario, weighing one hundred thirty pounds -- she is the HEARTBREAKER! LAAAAAAAAAACI! VALLLLENTINNNNNNE!
Grateful for the response, she offers handslaps all around the ring before sliding in and taking straight to a turnbuckle to repeat her pose from before.
Alaric glares over at Laci as she descends from the turnbuckle from her rockstar pose, then charges Valentine, clubbing her in the back of the head before she can turn.
Ding!
A grab of the hair is followed by a pull attempt, to throw her across the ring. The pull succeeds, but she athletically lands on her feet before throwing a dropkick into his face, knocking Alaric down! Back up quickly, her spring up hurricanrana sends him to the mat then rolling fast to the outside.
Cut to Alaric on the outside, wiping his mouth of spittle and clearly frustrated in his walk around the ring.
Wilford Brimley: ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Cut to Laci being pushed back by referee Wilford Brimley, who has effectively interrupted his own count, as she approaches the ropes nearest Alaric who wastes time outside.
Cut to Alaric, noticing the referee’s interference and thinking it to use to his advantage, slinking in to charge Laci - but she’s ready with a basement dropkick that sends Dracislav to kneel on the second rope! Valentine wastes no time in her rope rebounded return -- 619!
Alaric stumbles back, but on his feet, as Laci springboards to rectify that: SPINNING HEEL KICK! The quickest pin she can manage on recovery.
Wilford Brimley: ONE!........
T—AN EXAGGERATED KICKOUT
Alaric uses the momentum of the kickout to boost up to a charging clothesline — but it’s a drop toe hold that causes his second draping on the middle rope! As the vampire grabs at his throat stunned, Valentine is off the opposite set of ropes and coming with a crossbody over his body!
But Alaric proves his craftiest yet, dropping at just the right time from his positioning so that she falls face first on the arena floor!
Cut from the hard camera catching that last shot to a camera on the outside glancing in on Alaric, who lets out a fangy grin. He must smell the blood coming from Laci’s mouth from fall, as just after he’s on the outside and raining down boots and pointed elbow drops wherever they land. His motions are swift as he pulls her by her red hair, wipes blood from her chin onto his, then scoops her with a classic slam - but to the outside’s thin padding!
Laci grips at her back as Alaric taunts the crowd, bearing his fangs at any fan that’ll actually give him the time of day. Upon noticing her stirring, Dracislav takes to the apron with measuring in mind: DOUBLE AXE HANDLE!
NO! A duck and punch to the gut meets Alaric on the way down --
Jim Ross: Face to the barricade! Slobberknocker of a slam, stunned and sent back into the ring now.
Valentine rolls underneath the bottom rope, but Alaric is there and finally gets his clothesline off! It levels her proper, causing red spittle to come from her mouth, the force on the fall causing her to sit up and be met with a rope-rebounded dropping elbow!
Dracislav awaits her rise with intent eyes, charging off the momentum of another rope rebound - right into her kick to the gut!
Jim Ross: Simple, but effective, Cage, and you know better than anyone that’s all it takes sometimes.
Her second attempt at simplicity is caught!
Cut to a close up view of Alaric, the holder of the foot, where all we can see is the way he reveals his fangs to Laci -- then her foot clocking him in the back of his head!
Cut to the hard camera where the shot spins Alaric in the air then onto his back! Nonetheless, the man stumbles up to an angry grog while the Torontian makes her way to the top rope. Stunned but still with us, he’s able to push Wilford Brimley into the ropes, causing their reverberating and knocking her from her balance and for a loop!
Alaric glances over at the cross necklace sat on top of the commentary booth and nods to himself. He’s on the second rope in a hurry, his forearm dazing Laci a little more, the left swing doing it much more definitively.
Christian Cage: This man is 260 lbs, why is he climbing up to that top rope?!
Jim Ross: High risk, high reward. You should know something about that.
It seems as though he’s setting up for a super hurricanrana
AND THERE IT IS!
NO HER FEET WERE WRAPPED AROUND THE TOP ROPE! ALARIC AWKWARDLY FALLS BACK, ON HIS NECK NO LESS!
He grabs at his neck, rolling away toward the center of the ring.
BUT SHE’S OFF!
NO HESITATION!
THE HEARTBREAKER! THE SHOOTING STAR PRESS INTO THE KNEE DROP ON THE FACE!
Alaric looks out of it, and Valentine wastes no time in finding out.
Wilford Brimley: ONE!........
TWO!......
THREE!
DING DING DING
Valentine wipes the blood dripping down her chin from her mouth just before referee Wilford Brimley grabs her hand in order to acknowledge her win. Alaric doesn’t move from how he lay as the hard camera catches a great photo op during the announcement.
Mark Beverly: The winner of this match: LAAAAAAACI! VALLLLLLENTINNNNNE!
Once more, she takes to the turnbuckle she taunted on when she made her entrance, to bask in her victory. Although, it is the blood being wiped away more time that is the lasting image here.
Laci Valentine d. Alaric Dracislav in 4:24
We crossfade into a scene of the complete antithesis.
The large leather-clad living room within Priscilla Kelly's mansion is filled with people, yet still silent. All eyes, filled with sadness and surprise, resting on the plasma television hooked onto the wall and at the news report that is playing. A sombre TV reporter stands at the location of a rather rundown apartment building.
TV Reporter
Former WWE star Jeff Hardy was found dead here this morning, presumably having committed suicide, tragically having been found hanging from the ceiling. With no sign of a struggle, police are ruling out any other outcome. This is a tragic day in the world of wrestling.
The gimp-suited bouncers spread around the room all look on in shock, as do the cleaners scrubbing at the various surfaces. Hell's Favourite Harlot herself Priscilla Kelly, AWF World's Championship belt gleaming around her waist, sits looking at the screen with only mild surprise, before she gives a brief chuckle.
Priscilla Kelly
Wow. I mean we all knew he'd kill himself, but didn't think it'd be voluntarily. Huh?
Priscilla laughs to herself, before looking around her at the sullen and uncomfortable faces. She raises an eyebrow.
Priscilla Kelly
If anyone has the gaul to find that offensive, you're fired.
The faces around her begrudgingly lighten up. Priscilla turns to a rather morose looking Prince Albert on the sofa adjacent to her. Sympathy emerges on her face for the first time.
Priscilla Kelly
I'm sorry doggy. I know you knew him.
Prince Albert
He's a good kid.
Priscilla Kelly
Was a good kid.
Albert looks up at her, a flash of disbelief on his face.
Priscilla Kelly
Sorry just… semantics. It's past tense now, y'know?
Priscilla shrugs, before turning to look back at the television, the sad look of Albert lingering on her for a few moments more before he looks back down at his feet. Maeve strolls into the room, smiling politely at the cleaners scrubbing the floor, before she sits down over by Priscilla.
Maeve
The cleaners are still here?
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah… the sick really found its way into the floorboards, got them working overtime to scrub it out.
Maeve
I see. That party got kinda wild didn't it.
Priscilla Kelly
Not wild enough. I wanted to get made into fucking mincemeat.
Maeve
Did that Lieutenant dude not do a good enough job of that?
Priscilla Kelly
No. Not in that way. I wanted to get fucked into oblivion Maeve.
Maeve
Oh… right.
Priscilla Kelly
It was embarassing. Since when does Priscilla Kelly not pull at a party? I usually have my pick!
Maeve
That referee dude seemed interested? I know a lot of dudes who were asking about you too.
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah but none of them were... - this one guy. Who I actually wanted. Thought it was a sure fire thing too but he just… left me his number and that's it.
Priscilla flashes Maeve the index card.
Priscilla Kelly
Maeve. Sweetie. Priscilla Kelly does not text first.
Maeve
But… you have his number. He doesn't have yours.
A beat.
Priscilla Kelly
..............Fuck.
Priscilla takes out her phone and looks at the index card.
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah but we have a busy day ahead of us, if I text him now I don't want him to be texting me back and forth all day y'know?
Maeve
Alright.
Priscilla Kelly
Or, I mean, I could just leave him on read all day. Really play on his mind. Have him trembling with the thought of 'Oh, when is she gonna text back!? Is she gonna text back!? No she isn't! I'm fucking ugly and I hate myself and I'll never find love!'
Maeve
And then you text back?
Priscilla Kelly
Maybe.
Priscilla inputs the number into her phone and types out the text, reading; 'Hey Juice-Daddy, guess who? xxx'. She grins, before hitting send, before looking up at Maeve smugly.
Priscilla Kelly
Shouldn't have to wait too long.
She keeps her smug gaze on Maeve, ready for the phone to buzz any second. The two sit there for a few awkward moments as nothing happens, prompting Priscilla to lose her smug grin as she looks back at her phone. She opens the message thread, and sees there is yet to be a reply. She laughs nervously.
Priscilla Kelly
Well maybe he's umm- maybe he's in the shower or something? It's only been a few seconds crawl out of my ass Maeve.
Maeve
Oh I didn't think I was-
Priscilla Kelly
Y'know, I am so out of that dude's league! Like, so out of his league! Remember that story, with that dumb bitch on top of that pea with the mattresses?
Maeve
The Princess and the Pea?
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah, so imagine I'm the Princess, and he is the pea, and all the mattresses, those are leagues. And what there's like, a thousand mattresses right?
Maeve
I think there's 20?
Priscilla Kelly
20? Is that it?
Maeve
Well I mean it's still a lot of mattresses.
Priscilla Kelly
Either way! My point is that I am just- LEAGUES ahead of that dude! Honestly, I could have any dude in that locker room, any dude. Rockstar Spud. Ruxx Rampede. That big lanky dwarf dude. I could even get Maxi-Pad to ditch that bitch of his if I really put my mind to it. Any of the women too! But instead, I'm going for Orange Cassidy, so he should be fucking grateful!
She looks back at her phone, still no text. She pulls a face and grunts aggressively.
Priscilla Kelly
Fuck! Bill!
Big Guard Bill, from across the room, comes running over. He smiles nervously.
Big Guard Bill
Yes Miss Kelly?
Priscilla Kelly
Go get the car ready.
Big Guard Bill
Right away Miss Kelly, sir! Uuugh- miss? Uuugh Buddy Boy!
Bill runs out of the room quickly to escape the awkward exchange. Priscilla shakes her head as she looks over at Albert.
Priscilla Kelly
Doggy, look after Lucas okay. Make sure he eats.
Albert nods, still looking a little rattled as he remains seated. Priscilla motions over to Maeve as she moves out of the room.
Priscilla Kelly
Maeve, with me.
Maeve
Oh, okidokey!
The pair move out of the room, moving down a small set of stairs through into the main lobby area, before moving out of the front door, manned by two gimp-suit wearing guards. Priscilla looks up at the beheaded statue before her, and snarls as she starts to inspect it.
One of the gimp-suited guards unzips the mouth hole of his mask, as he leans over to Maeve.
Beefton
Psst, hey.
Maeve turns a little, looking at the guard.
Maeve
Can I help you?
Guard
Maeve, it's me. Beefton!
Maeve
Oh fuck.
Beefton pulls the mask off, unveiling his wavy gold hair, as he strolls over to Maeve as he bites his lip.
Beefton
Sorry was just getting a bit hot under there… or maybe it was just cos you walked by.
Maeve
Okay.
Beefton
Gave any thought to where the Beefmeistosaurus Rex can take Maeverooni, on our little… daterooni.
Maeve
Oh shit, you didn't forget about that when Priscilla smacked you over the head with the bottle?
Beefton
Oh no baby, it's all I've been thinking about. Getting my paycheck in soon and I wanna spend it on you! Well, and these pills that I saw on a pornhub ad that make your dick bigger. Honestly they work good, you should see the before and after pics! They even turned one dude black.
Beefton pulls an 'impressive right?' face. Maeve sighs.
Maeve
Okay… alright. I'm a man of my word so-
Beefton
You're a- a what?
Maeve
What?
Beefton
You're a… a dude? Okay! Okay, that's unexpected but I can work with that, I can work with that. This beef river flows both ways you know. The Beefball can bat for both teams if… need be.
He gulps, trying his hardest to seem cool with this new development, that isn't at all a development. Maeve just narrows her eyes at him.
Maeve
What the fuck are you talking about?
Beefton
You said you're a man?
Maeve
No you fucking idiot. It's a phrase, 'man of my word'.
Beefton
Oh! Okay! Okay that's relieving. Not that there'd be a problem if you were, you are very attractive, and cute, and I am very into you, enough that I would be okay if you had a big ol' schlong down there y'know. That said, I am glad you do not… because I do prefer genitals of the pussy variety.
Maeve
Okay that's kind of nice that you were so accepting, but it really doesn't matter what's down there Beefton cos you are not seeing it.
Beefton
Alright alright. I will settle for simply taking you on a wonderful date of your choice, and I will spare no expense.
Priscilla Kelly
FUCKERS!!!
Maeve and Beefton both jump as they twist to look at Priscilla, who has climbed her statue to inspect the championship belt area of it. She squints at an asterisk scratched onto it.
Priscilla Kelly
Who put that there!? There's no asterisk! I'm the champ! I won that championship! God fucking dammit!!!
Priscilla lets herself drop from the statue.
Priscilla Kelly
Beefton!!!
Beefton
Please don't hit me with another bottle Miss Kelly!
Priscilla Kelly
A delivery should be coming today, keep an eye out. It's a big one, when it's here unpack it and take it to the main room.
Beefton
Alright Miss Kelly, will do!
Priscilla Kelly
Anyway, come on Maeve.
Priscilla heads down the pathway towards the main gate, where the car awaits with Big Guard Bill sat inside. Maeve looks back at Beefton one last time, and gives a small, forced smile.
Maeve
I'll umm- give it some thought what we can do, okay?
Beefton
Awesome! It can be as hot and sweaty as you want it to be!
Maeve
Oh it will be… which is not at all.
Beefton shoots a finger gun at Maeve, winking at the same time. She turns away from him, shaking her head, as she follows after Priscilla. The two move towards the car that sits at the end of the driveway, climbing inside the back seat to be greeted by a warm smile from Big Guard Bill, wearing his chauffeur cap that is not a mandatory part of the uniform.
Big Guard Bill
Let's get this Buddy Boy rolling!
And the drive begins, Bill smiling merrily as he listens to his podcast in the front seat, as Priscilla looks out of the window with her brow furrowed, clearly irritated. Maeve looks quite awkward as she sits next to her, twiddling her thumbs.
Priscilla Kelly
What were you and Beefton talking about?
Maeve
Oh… the umm- the umm- me and Beefton what?
Priscilla Kelly
You and Beefton yeah.
Maeve
Ghosts.
Priscilla Kelly
Ghosts?
Maeve
Ghosts.
Maeve gulps as Priscilla eyeballs her.
Maeve
Beefton thinks he saw a ghost! Pfft, right? I told him, that's ridiculous Beefton ya… ya silly idiot you!
Priscilla Kelly
Oh well I dunno it could be the old tenants. Kinda old looking couple. They were confederates though don't worry about it.
Maeve
Don't worry about what?-Priscilla what does that mean-
Priscilla grunts as she looks down at her phone, still no text back. It's at this moment that she finally focusses enough on the podcast being listened to by Big Guard Bill, and she suddenly looks even more pissed off.
Priscilla Kelly
Bill! Is this the Raging Dead Podcast?
Big Guard Bill
Oh yeah. You don't like the guy? I quite like how he-
Priscilla Kelly
No I don't fucking like the guy. He's the only thing stopping me from having the best win-loss record in the company! Which technically I'd already have by the way, if I didn't just CHOOSE to have Albert place Chuck Baretta on top of Max Ironside for the pin in that tag match yonks ago. I could've very easily had that win! I do have the best win loss record in every which way except written on fucking paper! And of all the people to contend with me, it's THAT dusty old cunt? Who's only presence is through his sucky podcast? How can you listen to that dull shit? I'd have a funner time getting fucked by Mark Zuckerberg! And Raging Dead!? That's his name!? Did he come up with it when he was 11 years old? I think that's what Lucas has called his fucking Runescape character!
Big Guard Bill
Does little Lucas have Runescape? I'll add him.
Maeve
Bill let Priscilla finish.
Big Guard Bill
Alright.
Priscilla Kelly
They accuse me of not doing 'real wrestling', well at least I put in fucking effort! I may have my own 'unique' style that some daft fucks don't agree with, but at least I'm passionate! At least I haven't just coasted since the first week, talking more about what's going on in other irrelevant companies than the one that actually matters. No one is following your career Dead, not any more you fucking fossil, your fans are either dead or riddled with fucking amnesia. I don't know if it's the age, or the career gone by of taking hits to the head, but something is stopping him from realising… there's only one federation you should be focussing on right now Raging Dead, and it's the one with Priscilla fucking Kelly in it.
Priscilla finishes her rant, red faced, before looking down at her phone again. Still no text. She throws her phone into the air, letting it bounce around the car before sliding under a seat. Bill and Maeve sit rather awkwardly, the podcast still playing.
Big Guard Bill
Do you want me to turn off the podcast or is it okay-
Priscilla Kelly
Obviously I want you to fucking turn it off Bill!
Big Guard Bill
Alright!
Bill quickly switches it off, and the car falls into a nasty silence. They drive onwards down the road, not a word being said by any of them. Priscilla's still red face looks out of the window, at the sights zooming by her, forgetting a time lately when she didn't feel agitated. When she didn't feel angry.
She deserved to be on top of the AWF. Why did she not feel like she was? Why did she not feel like the most destructive force in wrestling right now? She should be.
She should be.
Priscilla looks down at her title belt. The glistening gold reflecting in her eyes. Why is this not enough?
Taking down Raging Dead is what she needed. No more nay-sayers. No more questions of her dominance. With a veteran like him defeated at her feet, she'd truly have the world by its balls.
Priscilla sits in the back seat, looking morosely out of the window at the passing buildings. Maeve sits awkwardly next to her, though the harsh silence the car was once in is gone now, as the not all very self aware Big Guard Bill is speaking loudly.
Big Guard Bill
So Miss Kelly, I was thinking, of course, with the loss of Hugh and Steve, god rest their souls, I figured it'd be me taking over as head of security right? I just- I've worked for you for a while now, and I'm the most senior member of staff so, I just sorta figured that'd be the natural progression. And boy do I have some plans. So first of all, Denny's. Just throwing it out there, think we should have one. Now this next one is technically not a security manner but- I'm thinking. Arby's. Think we should have one. Now this next one-
Priscilla Kelly
Bill. You're not becoming Head of Security.
Big Guard Bill
Oh? I'm… I'm not. That's, -who? Who will be? Is it Gabe? Cos Gabe talks about you behind your back Priscilla he does. He says you've got a really long neck. Now those are Gabe's words not mine and I'm not saying you should fire him but-
Priscilla Kelly
It's not Gabe, Bill. I'm bringing in someone new, from the outside. An old friend. That's where we're headed now actually.
Big Guard Bill
Oh… oh. So I'm- I'm driving you to pick up the guy who's gonna bypass me to the top. Alright. Cool. Cooooooooool.
Priscilla Kelly
There a problem Bill?
Big Guard Bill
Noooope. Nope. No there is not.
Bill narrows his eyes, trying his best to keep his emotions buried within, as his knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel tighter.
Maeve
So that's where we're headed. Who is it?
Priscilla Kelly
That's for me to know, and S2 to find out!
Maeve just stares at a smiling Priscilla, confused.
Priscilla Kelly
Just realised that joke doesn't really work unless you know the guy. His name is S2.
Big Guard Bill
S2? The Scientist!? You mean S2 like the letter S and the number 2?
Priscilla Kelly
Yes Bill. He used to be Ron Killings' old bodyguard, back in our days at PWD when I was still Sp!t. Great guy.
Maeve
Why do they call him the Scientist?
Priscilla Kelly
He got a B in GCSE Science.
Maeve
I got an A.
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah but don't mention that to S2. He's really proud of the B.
Maeve nods slowly.
Big Guard Bill
Oh yeah… me and S2, we go way back! Went to Security School together actually. Oh… those were the days.
A flashback initiates, showing a much younger Big Guard Bill in Security School. He is being wedgied by a letter jacket wearing S2, who is surrounded by his jock friends, before throwing Bill into a nearby locker.
The flashback ends, and Bill has tears in his eyes.
Big Guard Bill
And now he'll be my boss! Boy oh boy!
A tear rolls down his cheek. Priscilla looks out of the car window, as they pull up to a small nearby house.
Priscilla Kelly
Here we are. Pull up here Bill.
As the car pulls up, Bill sucks up his emotions and acts the chauffeur as he opens the door for both Priscilla and Maeve to get out of the car. Suddenly, a phone buzzes from within the car. Priscilla turns to Maeve.
Priscilla Kelly
That yours?
Maeve
No mine's on me.
Priscilla turns to Bill, who holds up his own phone. Then it dawns on her. It's hers. She remembers how she threw her phone randomly across the car.
She's getting a text.
She screams and turns back to the car.
Priscilla Kelly
Bill get in that fucking car now and find my phone!
Bill dives head first into the car, rooting around under the seats before finding the phone and throwing it to Kelly. She catches it, before her wide, smiling eyes rest on the phone screen, expecting to see a text back from Orange Cassidy.
Instead, multiple texts have come through from an unknown number.
They read;
'H
HRY
HEY
FAT FINGERS LOL'
Priscilla snarls.
Priscilla Kelly
Who the fuck is this?
'THIS IS AUSTIN
STONE COLD'
Priscilla Kelly
Oh fuck off you gotta be kidding me. This asshole?
Maeve
Who is it?
Priscilla Kelly
Stone Cold Steve Austin.
More texts come through;
'SAW YOUR DIGITS IN BRETS LITTLE BLACK BOOK THOUGHT ID SAY HI
I MEANT THE RECORDS BOOK
AUTOCORRECT LOL'
Priscilla sighs as she lets her hand lower. She looks at her company, before looking at the house behind her, and speaks in a defeated tone.
Priscilla Kelly
Let's go chat to S2.
As the trio head up to the main door, Priscilla's phone buzzes the whole time.
CUT TO
Priscilla and Maeve sit on a rather comfortable looking sofa, smiles on their faces, as Big Guard Bill stands at the wall behind them. Across from them, sat in an armchair, sits the Scientist himself, S2. A large dark skinned whale of a man, taking up the whole chair that he sits in, as he makes light work of a Triple Whopper in his hands, spilling sauce down his custom made letter jacket with S2 imprinted on it. Once this Whopper has been completely devoured, he reaches into his pocket, and lifts out another.
S2
Well Prissy-Cat, it is good to see you again after all these years!
Priscilla Kelly
Love to see you too S2, it's really great to see you looking so… healthy.
S2
Thank you, I lost 3 pounds.
Maeve
When did you last see each other?
Priscilla Kelly
2013.
Maeve
Oh! Right.
Priscilla's phone buzzes. She grunts as she looks down at the text coming through. Steve Austin is still clogging up her phone;
'NO WOMAN ASPARAGUS
AH SHIT
SORRY LOL
FOR MY WIFE'
Priscilla grimaces at these texts. The Scientist has noticed Big Guard Bill, and chuckles.
S2
Well well well, if aint little Billy Buttertoes. Not seen you since Security School!
Bill becomes immediately embarassed. Maeve looks confused.
Maeve
Buttertoes? How did that nickname come about?
Big Guard Bill
It's not a nickname that is my actual surname.
Maeve
Oh. Wow. Unfortunate. Priscilla you have very weirdly named guards.
S2
Oh we had some fun didn't we Buttertoes! Remember that time where you used to write poems to that one girl, what was she called, Shalikah?
Big Guard Bill
That was her name yes.
S2
Oh it was hilarious. We found them, and scanned them, and put them all over the school. Oh he was bullied for how long? Weeks? Months? Years?
Big Guard Bill
To this day actually I still get bullied for that.
S2
Really!? Hilarious. Truly hilarious. I did that. I caused that pain.
S2 chuckles as he sits back, seemingly filled with pride. Maeve looks from the teary eyed Bill, trying his hardest to keep his composure, to the laughing S2 who's mouth engulfs another whole whopper, a look of disgust on her face. She turns to Priscilla, who still looks at her phone. New texts have since come through;
'HOWS PRINCE ALBERT THESE DAYS?
BET HES A REAL PAIN IN THE DICK
GET IT?
LOL'
Maeve
Priscilla…
Priscilla Kelly
Yes! Sorry!
Priscilla faces her phone down, ignoring the insistent vibrating, as she looks back up at S2 with a smile.
Priscilla Kelly
I am here S2, to offer you a job.
S2
Fuck yeah.
Priscilla Kelly
I want you as my new Head of Security. It will be very high paying, you will get many ludicrous perks, and you can boss around the rest of the security staff all you like!
Bill whimpers. S2 chuckles.
S2
Sounds good to me Prissy-Cat. I'm in.
Priscilla Kelly
Great!
S2
Under one condition. I get to go back into the ring too.
Priscilla Kelly
Hmm?
S2
I've been keeping my eye on AWF! I know what's going on there! It's been getting me back into the mood. I want to be between those ropes again!
Priscilla Kelly
Alright alright… well, there's a tag team tournament coming up. I can see what my little doggy Prince Albert has to say about the two of you teaming up and getting involved? And trust me, if I want him to say yes, he will!
S2
Sounds perfect.
And with that, S2 takes another munch of yet another Whopper. Priscilla grunts as her phone vibrates another few times, prompting her to look down at it. More Austin texts.
'SHIT SON DID YOU SEE JEFF?
DWAYNE OWES ME TEN BUCKS TOLD HIM THAT SHIT IN 98'
S2 looks over at Maeve.
S2
Well ain't you a pretty little thing. What's your name?
Maeve sighs. Not another one.
Maeve
Maeve… Shiliko.
S2
Shiliko? Hey! That sounds a lot like Shalikah! Wasn't that the bitch you were after with your poetry Buttertoes!
Big Guard Bill
You know it was. We just discussed this.
S2
I know! I just love bringing it up!
S2 looks back at Maeve, and bites his lip.
S2
Well well well Maeve Shiliko, I do love a little Asian persuasion I must say. You already someone's plaything or are you… open for business?
Maeve
Excuse me?
S2
You heard, sweet thang. Thing you've caused me to come down with a little bit of the... yellow fever!
Maeve
What the fuck. What is it with you people?
S2
Don't get touchy now miss.
Priscilla isn't even listening to this argument ensue, as her phone continues to vibrate in her hand. She looks down at the barrage of texts coming through, and her face turns redder and redder.
'HEY
HEY
YOU THERE?
PRESCELLA
PRESCELLA
HEY
HEY!'
Priscilla Kelly
Holy fuck!
Everyone turns to the suddenly very openly agitated Priscilla, but she cares none, she has just had enough, and as a new text comes through, she thumbs it quickly bringing her to the reply screen, punching in her text aggressively. Upon being happy with the words 'HOLY FUCK SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU DUMB FUCKING ANNOYING FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!', she hits send, and throws down her phone.
The other three members of the room look at her, Maeve especially who puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
Maeve
Everything alright Priscilla?
Priscilla Kelly
It's Steve Austin! He won't stop fucking texting me!
Her phone buzzes again, and she picks it up and looks at it. Austin is still messaging through, seemingly oblivious to her last message, cursing him out.
'HELLO
PRESCELLA
HELLOOOOO
YOU THERE'
Priscilla looks furious.
Priscilla Kelly
What is fucking with this guy!? Why is he still texting me!? Did he even get my text-
Priscilla switches onto the message screen to Stone Cold, scrolling up to see if he even acknowledged her message to him.
But she can't even find it.
She raises an eyebrow, confused. Did her message actually send? What just happened? Where is it? She could've sworn she sent it, but it doesn't seem to have gone through to Stone Cold.
And in that moment, she gets a text through from Orange Cassidy.
The text reads; 'Oh. Feels unnecessary.'
With her heart in her throat, Priscilla clicks over onto the message thread with OC.
And there it is. The text meant for Austin telling him to shut the fuck up sits in the thread with Orange, below his response of 'Who is this?' sent to her just moments ago. Quickly she realises that she must've clicked that text as it came through without realising, bringing her onto this thread instead of the one with Austin. She was just so caught up she didn't realise. She gulps as her eyes go wide.
Priscilla Kelly
Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!
Maeve
Everything okay?
Priscilla Kelly
No! No! No it isn't! Oh shit! Well I mean- he doesn't know it's me right?
Another text comes through, again from Orange;
'Is this Priscilla?'
Priscilla screams and hurls her phone at the wall, shattering it immediately. Maeve looks shocked.
Maeve
What is going on Priscilla?
Priscilla Kelly
Oh fuck! Fuck! FUCK! That mother fucker Steve Austin! That dumb as fuck, bald as fuck, dumb bald fucker! Fuck him!
Priscilla turns to S2, wide eyed and furious.
Priscilla Kelly
S2! You start tomorrow! Okay!?!?
S2
Okay! Okay yeah!
S2 seems slightly intimidated in his chair.
Priscilla Kelly
Alright! Well that's the day done! Time to go! Bill start up the fucking car!
Bill nods, running out of the house towards the car. Priscilla follows after him quickly, with Maeve in hot pursuit, until a wolf whistle stops her.
S2
Hey Shiliko!
Maeve reluctantly stops and turns.
S2
See you tomorrow.
And with that, he winks.
Maeve
Have a heart attack and die.
S2 is shocked at the sudden retort, before Maeve slams the door behind her. S2 sits in his chair, pondering on these words.
S2
I actually might have a heart attack and die that's fucked up.
And with that, he takes a bit of yet another burger, as we fade out and into commercial.
Raging Dead sits on top on top of a square tombstone, gazing out over rows upon rows of tombstones. It's just before dusk and the mood is almost peaceful. As he turns to the camera, he falls backwards and crashes onto the ground. He yells out in pain as a group of men rush over to help him up. He feels the back of his head, and there's enough blood to make him worry.
Raging Dead
Damnit! Here I was going to do this cool promo about lost souls and junk… and now Imma need stitches!
One man rushes out of the scene to find a first aid kit as the rest help him sit down on a bench. He looks at the camera.
Raging Dead
I was going to take time to properly address my minions.
He points at all the men, who have the same creepy whiteface that he does.
Raging Dead
These are my Denizens of the Grave: Raging Fred, Raging Ted, Raging Zed, Raging Ed, Raging Edd.
The five men wave nervously. The sixth man returns with the first aid kid.
Raging Dead
And this guy… his name is Tim. Luckily he's a paramedic. We ran out of names that rhyme… and my middle name is Ned… so that's off limits. Tim is a good kid. They're all good kids. Anyway… my plan was to do this long, dark speech about how I'm going to obliterate the AWF World's Champion Priscilla Kelly… and then absorb her lifeforce. It was going to be really spooky and I was going to have my buddy Erik edit all kinds of smoke and stuff. But you know what… forget it. It's ruined now because I can't keep my balance on top of a tombstone. What a weird thing to worry about in hindsight. But, hey, I'm only human.
He laughs and then stops to stare at his followers. Then they all laugh.
Raging Dead
I don't really know what I'm doing anymore. My head is not in the game and I feel like AWF is only getting a shell of the man I once was. Maybe I tried to do too much at once. It's been the better part of a decade since I've worked this hard. Now… maybe I'm in over my head. Maybe I came in too hot. I flunked out of two tournaments and now I've got a match against the one who shocked the world by becoming AWF World's Champion. I don't mean to take away from her accomplishment. I am just still surprised that Max Ironside is not the face of this company. He had the makings of a true champion and then… at Gold Rush… he lost.
Tim finishes stitching up the back of his head.
Raging Dead
Now that Priscilla Kelly is the face of this company… I couldn't be happier to have this upcoming match against her. It's my chance to not only protect my record here in AWF… but I get the chance to show the world that I've still got it. Sure, she's fierce… and she's got Prince Albert in a can… BUT I'M THE RAGING DEAD! I've held more World Championships than Priscilla has years on this planet! I've proven an immeasurable amount of times why I belong in this business! I've beaten more World Champions than she can scramble eggs with!
He pauses, realizing that didn't quite connect.
Raging Dead
My head hurts. My back hurts. My hip hurts. Everything hurts. But when I'm in that magical land between the ropes… it's almost euphoric. My soul leaves my body and watches from above as my body does unspeakable things to other bodies. Next up is Priscilla Kelly. I knew a Priscilla once. Everyone called her Prass. Can I call you Prass, Prass? No? Okay, cool. So, Prass… you've got a shiny target on your back… or around your waist… or however you carry that championship. In this match next week in Houston… you've got nothing to lose… but I have everything to gain. A win against you likely puts me in a favorable position to challenge for your championship sooner than later. On the flipside… a loss to you doesn't really mean anything for either of us. So… it's best for everyone if I am victorious.
He stands up and strolls through the cemetery with his denizens following closely behind.
Raging Dead
Imagine… if you will… a world where nobody is qualified to step up to Priscilla Kelly and present a formidable challenge to her throne. She will not be able to grow as a champion if there is nobody to push her to the known or unknown limits of her abilities. What I'm saying is… if she beats me in Houston… there's nobody left to test if she is truly the champion that AWF deserves. It is my duty to push her to the edge and see if she is strong enough to fight her way back. If there's anyone built for the job… it's me. Unfortunately I have to worry about outside interference from Prince Albert.
He stops and looks at the camera.
Raging Dead
I am not intellectually advanced enough to even begin to understand their relationship. She is his master and he is her slave? I don't get it… but… hey… it's their lives. Who am I to judge? I've gotten enough weird looks for my own relationship. See… my wife Sara was maybe a year old when I started training to be a pro wrestler. I was maybe fifteen… and her mom was a mentor of mine. My trainer was the man who would eventually be her stepdad. I watched Sara grow up… and we were friends all of her life. Around the time she became of age… I was the one training her to be a pro wrestler. Nothing weird happened. Nothing inappropriate. Our relationship didn't even morph into anything romantic until 2012. She was 23. I was 38. From an outside perspective… yeah… I can see how it might seem creepy. It was hard for her stepdad to understand. Once he could separate his feelings about us… and see us as two consensual adults… then it was easier for him to come to terms with.
He pauses, and has a distant look in his eyes.
Raging Dead
I don't know where I was going with that.
Tim
Something about Prince Albert.
Raging Dead
Oh yeah. I have to look out for whatever weird shit he does out there during our match. He's unpredictable and yet nothing that comes from him should be much of a surprise. They've made it very clear that he's willing to do anything to help Priscilla Kelly. I need to be prepared to fight them both. That's where you come in, my Denizens of the Grave. Fred, Ted, Zed, Ed, Edd, Tim… you all need to be waiting in the shadows… for your cue to avenge me… in case things go sideways.
Tim
What's our cue?
Raging Dead
You'll know.
Tim
But how will we know?
Raging Dead
YOU'LL KNOW!
Tim
Sorry.
Raging Dead
It's okay, Tim. You're new to this job. You are bound to make mistakes. Mistakes are opportunities for learning. Lord knows I've made enough mistakes in this lifetime… but I'm still learning. I'm still growing. I'm still challenging myself every day. This match with ol' Prass… this will be a challenge I've anticipated since arriving here. Not so much that SHE is the challenge… but I knew that one day I would get close to the AWF World's Championship. This isn't how I planned on doing it from the start… but it'll do. If this is as close as I get to that shiny marvel… then so be it. If Prass is able to defeat me… then she truly deserves to be AWF World's Champion. From then on… I believe she'll be untouchable. For now… she is just as human as me. She is as fallible as me. She is full of the same piss and vinegar as me. She is full of---
The sound of Dance Monkey by Tones and I is heard in Raging Dead's pocket.
Tim
Your phone is ringing.
Raging Dead
I hear that, Tim.
He pulls the phone out and answers while on speaker phone. It is his lovely wife Sara.
Raging Dead
Hi, honey. You're on speaker phone with the boys.
Sara
Of course I am. Are you going to be home soon?
Raging Dead
Soonly, yeah. I'm finishing up a promo for AWF.
Sara
You said you were going to work with them on their promos, not have them around for yours.
Raging Dead
I needed denizens though. And they---
Sara
Please tell me you don't have them doing whiteface in a cemetery!
He nervously looks at the boys, shaking his head.
Raging Dead
No. Of course not.
He winks at the boys.
Sara
Good. Well… when you're done… stop by your office. A package came for you today. It's a prototype for your new action figure.
Raging Dead
I haven't had one since 2014. And that one had a suit on. How does it look?
Sara
You really think I would open it?
Raging Dead
Yes.
Sara
Okay. Well, I did open it… and it's fantastic! They really nailed your droopy eyes.
Raging Dead
Gee thanks!
Sara
I love you!
Raging Dead
I know.
Before they can properly say goodbye, his phone loses signal.
Raging Dead
This has been happening a lot lately. Spring and T-Mobile are merging or something.
Tim
Or it's because we're in a cemetery.
Raging Dead
That could be. Okay, guys. Let's finish the video. Look tough, boys. In three… two…
He snarls at the camera like an angry deadboi.
Raging Dead
Priscilla Kelly… I hope you enjoy these last few slumbers. At PrimeTime… your living nightmare begins as soon as that opening bell rings. Whatever you've got planned… make sure you have a dozen backup plans. I'll be ready for anything and everything you throw at me… including your gimp oaf Prince Albert. My Denizens of the Grave will be waiting impatiently to gangbang him and---
He slaps his forehead.
Raging Dead
Not gangbang. Never gangbang. Damnit! Let's call it a day, guys. I need to rest. My head is killing---
He passes out cold as the scene fades to black.
Fade back in, to Mark Beverly having taken center-ring.
Mark Beverly: The following bout is the first-hour main event of the evening! Set for one fall!
Unlike the previous weeks, in this odd town of Houston does Raging Dead get a mixed response closer akin to what he received in the first week of AWF’s young history. Donning the usual trenchcoat entrance, Dead takes the time to appreciate the reception before rubbing the back of his head and advancing down the ramp.
Mark Beverly: Introducing first, from Ozone Park, New York, weighing two hundred eighteen pounds -- RAAAAAAAGING! DEEEEEEEAD!
Before he can even finish his in-ring entry:
The sight of Raging Dead peering over his shoulder with a certain appearance of disbelief.
Cut to the stage, and Priscilla Kelly coming out on the shoulders of not just Prince Albert, but of the massive S2. At about 500 pounds, her new head of security could surely handle the operation on his own, just as Albert has for weeks, but this week it is a three-way-affair. Over her shoulder is the luxurious AWF World’s Champion, made even more of a pretty sight by the lights in the arena.
Cut to Raging Dead who has offered a full direct stare, darting between S2, Prince Albert, and the champion herself. A sly smirk, a chuckle, then a point.
Raging Dead: Which one this week, Kelly? Huh, who’s fighting your battles?
Mark Beverly: And his opponent, from Moon Creek, Georgia, weighing one hundred fourteen pounds -- she has the distinction of being the first AWF World’s Champion: PRRRRRISCILLA! KELLLLLLLLLLYYYYYY!
As the trio moves closer, Dead takes a smart step backwards, before taking into the ring. Once inside, his gaze reattaches immediately, not letting up on the force that approaches him. Is it intimidation? No. Never, not after three decades. Much the opposite: wisdom and assessing.
Priscilla’s expression seems annoyed, the falsehood in her smirk clear and obvious to anyone who has seen one of her genuine smiles. Carefully, she slides from her post upon the shoulders, and takes her time up the steps into the ring, walking right up to Raging Dead, face to face.
Priscilla Kelly: That would be me.
She blows a sarcastic kiss as S2 and the Prince get behind her and lift her inside the ring. They turn her to the hard camera so that she may pose with her championship.
Her arm drops right as she was beginning to raise it, her face not even trying to feign away from annoyance.
Cut to the stage, where Austin doesn’t take long, looking even more annoyed than her. That finger point, this time right to the champion.
Commissioner Austin
Hey, CHAMP! What? You don’t gotta phone? What? You can’t answer me? What? STONE COLD? WHAT?!
The man can’t be right in the head, nearly foaming at the mouth by the end of the sentence.
Commissioner Austin
You think that’s funny? What? You think ignoring Stone Cold is funny?
Cut to Priscilla who simply takes a page out his book, with a nonchalant middle finger.
Cut to Austin, eyes wide and in shock.
Commissioner Austin
WHAT?! You think that’s FUNNY?! This is funny: you got a championship defense next week, don’t you?
Cut to Priscilla, who squints in suspicion.
Commissioner Austin
And Stone Cold got all the power. Laugh at this:
Austin leans into his microphone.
Commissioner Austin
Steel. Cage.
The shit-eating grin returns.
Cut to Priscilla whose initial look of anger flashes into her own shit-eating grin, then just another flip off.
Cut to Austin, whose grin has disappeared quickly.
Commissioner Austin
Oh, you just don’t get it, do you? Well I got one better: whether you win next week or lose and get your rematch at the pay-per-view…
Cut to Priscilla, whose head tilts to the side and nostrils begin to flare.
Commissioner Austin
Elimination. Chamber.
Priscilla Kelly: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME YOU DIRTY BALD BASTARD FUCK?!
A yelp of frustration emanates out of the woman, but when she turns and is met with a stiff swinging elbow to the face, she’s shut up and dropped to the mat.
Ding!
Immediately, as if inspired by the man leaving the stage as we speak, he plants her seated in the nearest corner and proceeds to stomp a proper mudhole wherever the boot will land best, then takes a run to the turnbuckle then returns to smoosh Kelly between himself and the turnbuckle with a rolling senton! He’s right back as Priscilla body limps to having just her neck up against the bottom-most pad. He’s charging again: double knees squishing her head against the mat!
Groggy, she sneaks under the bottom rope where Prince Albert is there to meet her. Dead smartly steps back so that he can guarantee a good view of all three participants, S2 having flanked the other side of the ring. S2 grabs for the top rope, but it takes him a decent while to pull himself up fully thanks to his sheer size. Dead is quick to charge him, but S2 dodges the move.
Priscilla is back in the ring and comes behind with a grip of the tights for a schoolboy!
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
KICKOUT
Both are back up fast, but Priscilla spins around his legs and hooks him up with another schoolboy! This time she steadies her feet on the middle rope!
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
TW--
Dead pushes back on his shoulders on the get up and Priscilla’s rushing in -- belly-to-belly grab from nowhere! She’s up, over his head, and across the apron! She gets up as fast as she can, but a perfect vertical dropkick drops her again! To the turnbuckle she goes for recovery-- he’s from behind with the Olympic Slam! Off the ropes, Dead’s on a goddamn rally, back down with a Low-Ki style elbow drop!
Christian Cage: Dead just gave her a quick 101!
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
TW--
She sits up on the kickout, but he takes that advantage to lock her in a chicken-wing! His grip is mighty, and he does just about anything to stretch those shoulders the wrong way! She sits in this hold for at least a minute and half, as each time she tries to swing or roll out, his grip stays firm and the hold turns out worse off for her! One more roll around, but this time his roll back lifts him to his feet -- HE PICKS HER UP AND DOWN OVER HIS HEAD WITH A CHICKEN-WING RELEASE SUPLEX! Devastating looking maneuver, the bridge of it too!
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
TWO!......
KICKOUT
Kelly tries to get up first and fast, but Dead damn near shatters her ankle with a boot! Off the ropes again, but a back body drop! But no, he lands on his feet -- ANOTHER, FAST CHICKEN-WING OVERHEAD SUPLEX! Once more, bridging into the pin!
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
TWO!....
KICKOUT!
Priscilla doesn’t seem quite where she wants to go in her daze, so Dead decides for her, scooping her underneath his legs, pulling her into a powerbomb position (the dirty bitch probably liked that shit too) THEN SENDS HER INTO THE CORNER WITH A BUCKLE BOMB!
Jim Ross: CHRIST ALMIGHTY THE CHAMPION CRUMBLES! But S2, up on the apron again -- my, that’s a big boy, there, Cage. Call that a ‘haus’ - perfect for the Cult of Cunt
Christian Cage: The… What?
Jim Ross: Hard of hearing, boy? The Cult of Cunt.
Christian Cage: The hell is that? And why so much emphasis on ‘cunt’?
Jim Ross: ‘Cause it’s the Cult of Cunt, by dammit, that’s what they call ‘em on Twitter, Priscilla and the Peach.
Christian Cage: You mean Priscilla and the Prince, Ross? She’s not James.
Jim Ross: I’m Jim Ross, bitch!
In the time of their debate, S2 has managed to get onto the apron and draw the entirety of the referee’s attention. As another mudhole is being stomped, Dead suddenly finds himself in the grip of Prince Albert by the head, and he’s suddenly forcing his head repeatedly against the top turnbuckle! Dead glazes over after the fourth shot, but Prince Albert keeps going until whatever wound Raging Dead caused in filming his week’s promo begins to be clearly reopened, as made evident by the blood dripping down the upper back from below the staining hair! With S2 still distracting, Albert is able to grip the lifeless looking body of Dead in a military press then throw him in a back first slam in the middle of the ring! Not quite the Michinoku Driver, as he sends his opponent without moving from his own standing place! Clearly, Albert’s afflictions are growing better -- beware AWF.
As Prince Albert rolls out the ring, so too does S2 find his matter resolved and descends from the apron. Cal Elton turns around only to see Priscilla slowly crawling over towards Dead in the center of the ring, a grip on the back of her neck, but still an attempt to make the journey a sensual looking one.
A devilish smirk comes across her face, and she applies with impressive expertise an anaconda vice! Dead’s left arm barely moves, as his eyes look to be in a totally different place than in Texas with their far-and-away glaze. Over a minute goes by before Priscilla gets annoyed, cinching the hold in even tighter and fiercer than before!
It seems as though Dead’s passing out from the pain! Cal Elton is fast to check, raising the arm to see if it will lifelessly drop.
Cal Elton: ONE!
Another raise then drop.
Cal Elton: TWO!
One more.
Cal Elton: TH-- NO! NO!
Dead stays alive, the rally and the supporting fans helping him to find the spirit to at least kick around and when he does, he finds a leg wrap around the rope!
Priscilla doesn’t even hold the lock, her own neck killing her more than she would likely to let on, but she’s to her feet even despite holding the back of it. One face kick to the face lays Dead flat on his back from his stir. She covers him.
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
TWO!....
SAME LEG ON THE ROPE!
Priscilla Kelly: Oh fuck’s sake.
Kelly rolls to the center of the ring before getting up fast for a rope rebound: baseball slide to the back of Dead’s head as he tries to gather him!
Priscilla Kelly: AH CAL!
Kelly suddenly drops as if something has come over her and her gut. Cal Elton’s attention turns immediately at the sight and he’s to Priscilla like a puppy.
On the outside, Prince Albert grinds a knee in Dead’s face to sandwich his head against it and the arena floor, while S2 stomps around the corner, the most devious smile on his face. With a sick pleasure, the Prince forces a groggy Dead to his feet and into the grasp of S2, who forces with ease the veteran up with a double-handed chokeslam grip. Then he throws him into the steel steps!
Jim Ross: GOOD GOD CAGE! HIS HEAD AGAINST THE STEEL! THE SOUND! THE SOUUUUUND!
At that moment, however, is Prince Albert sent into the steel post! What is this?! It’s Raging Tim!
Cut to the each of the other barricades, where each of the Denizens of the Grave emerge! Despite their rally however, Prince Albert and S2 find themselves on the outside like a couple of action movie starts taking out the rushing and apron-leaping trainers with ease: Raging Tim gets double-chokeslammed right into Dead himself, still slumped in the corner; Raging Fred takes a running headslam into the ringpost from Prince Albert; Raging Edd gets his head sandwiched between a double big boot; Raging Zed gets through against the side of the announce desk, the back of his smacking awkwardly and knocking him clean out; Raging Ed and Raging Ted are in the grasp of S2 as he offers a meeting of the minds!
Jim Ross: They tried.
S2 rolls in Dead, who somehow manages to stir and try to pull himself by this time. In an ‘unexpected’ change of events, Kelly's stomach suddenly feels just fine. To her feet, her walk toward the beaten down and bloody Raging Dead is arrogant, for good reason: never has he looked worse for wear in an AWF arena.
Her hair grab is overexaggerated and slow -- AND SHE PAYS FOR IT AS HE SURPRISES WITH A EUROPEAN UPPERCUT!
It staggers her, but his gut kick bowls her over.
Jim Ross: What’s this now? Oh wait a second, folks!
HE’S SETTING UP FAST! LOOK AT THAT, THE CRADLE PILEDRIVER! DEAD WEIGHT!
Jim Ross: No one’s kicked out of this one yet!
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
TWO!....
ACHOOOOOOOOO!
The count stops as Cal Elton suddenly comes down with the allergies. He looks back, and once he sees an incredulous Raging Dead looking up at him --
Cal Elton: ACHOOOOOOOOO!
Dead is up, angry, despite the grog still having him, getting a double handed, threatening grab of the referee by his shirt and pushing him into the corner.
BICYCLE KICK! ALBERT’S ROLLED IN! BICYCLE KICK TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD AND REFEREE JUST WATCHES IT HAPPEN! CAL ELTON DOES NOTHING!
The body falls, limp, slow, and starfish style. Priscilla blows Elton a kiss, before rolling into an arrogant, lazy leg hook.
Cal Elton: ONE!..............
TWO!....
THREE!
DING DING DING
Houston is having none of this, but Kelly couldn’t give any less of a damn. As she gets up with a grin, it slowly fades, darting a look to the stage, where Austin once was. A holler of anger.
Priscilla Kelly: FUCK! HIM! UP!
Without another cue, S2 and Albert are stomping down on Raging Dead mercilessly, after the match has ended.
Cut to Priscilla, wrapping the title around her shoulder and watching from the corner.
Cut to the hard camera, showing S2 putting Dead in Albert’s grasp: another military press, but this time THE MICHINOKU DRIVER! On impact, her music begins again and she walks to the center of the ring, stepping over Dead’s body before she’s risen on the two shoulders once more.
This time there is no interruption: just the shot of her and her AWF World’s Championship, victorious.
For now.
Priscilla Kelly d. Raging Dead in 11:12
Fade to commercial.
Dyno-Mike sits in a dry cleaners reading a Cosmo magazine.
Dyno-Mike
(mumbling to himself) Maybe I do put my career over men?
Mike shakes his head before throwing the magazine onto the chair by his side. He clears his throat in the manliest way possible and snorts loudly. He winks at a young woman sitting in a few chairs over. She cringes and goes back to her phone. Mike shrugs and begins twiddling his thumbs as he waits.
A woman wearing a pink blouse appears at the other side of the counter holding up a see through plastic clothes bag with Mike’s polo shirt inside.
Woman
Mr.Stroyitch? Your shirt sir.
Mike smiles and takes the bag, admiring the shirt's cleanliness.
Dyno-Mike
Why thank you ma’am. Boy this is so clean it’d almost be a shame d’wear it.
He winks at the woman and chuckles. She blushes, letting out a laugh and begins playing with her hair. The young woman in the waiting area gips sarcastically.
Mike darts a dirty look at her, turning back and smiling at the woman who is entertaining his advances.
Dyno-Mike
So lil’lady how much do I owe you.
Woman
Well… here’s your bill sir.
If Mike’s eyes could pop out of his head they would as he examines the bill.
Dyno-Mike
What the hell?!
Woman
Sir the shirt was in quite the mess -
Dyno-Mike
“Quite the mess” - no shit that’s why I give it too ya!
Woman
Sir, how abouts you pay and leave.
Mike scans his card on the card reader and storms out. Mike speeds off in his pick up truck.
Later…
Mike steps out of his truck in the car park to Black Clyde’s gym with the dry cleaning bill in hand. He kicks open the door and looks around the gym.
Dyno-Mike
Where the FUCK is that slimmy, shirt ruining, roid headed, E’diot Clyde?!?!
The gym falls silent, apart from the sound of a staple gun stapling flyers into a wall, as everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at him. One gentleman next to some free weights raises his hand.
Dyno-Mike
Yes?
Colin
Hi there friend, I’m Colin - from Toronto - I’m one of Clyde’s -
Dyno-Mike
Jesus fuck Colin - this ain’t “Who do you think you are”.
Colin
Sorry, sorry. Erm... he’s gonna be back in forty minutes.
Dyno-Mike
Fuckin shit. I only got ten.
Colin
Well I can take a message for you?
Mike stops and thinks for a second. He looks at the young kid stapling flyers as he’s nearly made his way across the room to where Mike stands. He looks down at his bill and grins cruelly.
Dyno-Mike
Here boy! Wanna come on over for a second.
The boy walks over to him nervously. Mike rubs his head before kneeling down to be eye level with him.
Dyno-Mike
Can I borrow that for jus’ a second now?
The boy hands him the staple gun. Meanwhile Colin stands looking confused. Mike checks the gun then makes his way over to Colin.
Dyno-Mike
So you don’t mind taking that message for me, cause I got places to be?
Colin
Sure thing friend anything to be of help.
Dyno-Mike
Why thank you partner!
Colin
Now just wondering what you got that for -
Without breaking stride, Mike grabs Colin before he can finish speaking by his gym shirt and headbutts him in the face, knocking him out cold to gasps of horror from onlookers. Mike then places the dry cleaning bill onto Colin’s forehead and staples it twice to his skin, throwing him down onto the floor after he’s sure it is secured. Mike marches back to the exit, placing the staple gun in the hands of the boy as he walks past, again not breaking stride.
Mike grunts in satisfaction as he leaves the gym.
We fade back to the ring, as Black Clyde stretches and does his usual exercises, waiting for his opponent to emerge. He looks angry, pumped up, looking to avenge his friend Colin after the trip Dyno-Mike took to his gym. And worse yet, he referred to him as 'Roid-Headed'. If he knew Black Clyde, he'd know he's clean as a whistle, and had never gone near a steroid in his life.
Dyno-Mike's theme hits, and the crowd boo as the cigar chomping Texan emerges from the back, a cruel grin on his face as he looks over at Black Clyde. He reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out a staple gun, shooting it a few times to mock Clyde.
Mark Beverly: Next up, is a SINGLES MATCH, set for ONE FALL! In first, one third of the THREE BIG N...Niihhh…. *ahem*... BLACK CLYDE!!!
The crowd cheer, as Mike shakes his head, starting to move down the ramp to the ringside area.
Mark Beverly: And his opponent, from Dallas, Texas-
But before Beverly can finish the announcement, Black Clyde has charged at the ropes and thrown himself over! He CRASHES into Dyno-Mike with a huge cross body, and the crowd go wild!
Christian Cage: Oh my! Black Clyde kicking us off strong!
Clyde picks up Mike and hoofs him into the ring, watching as the dazed Atomic Texan rolls to a stop in the centre. Clyde is up onto the apron, and then onto the top turnbuckle… Mike turns around…
MISSILE DROPKICK!!! Huge move from the massive Clyde!
Clyde covers Mike!
ONE…
-KICKOUT!
Jim Ross: Just a one count! Phew!
Christian Cage: What do you mean phew? Are you supporting Dyno-Mike here!
Jim Ross: Of course I am! You saw the Bondage Bash! Black Clyde spilled his protein shake down that man's wonderful shirt!
Christian Cage: That was accidental!
Clyde lifts Dyno-Mike to his feet, and backs him into the corner with clubbing blows, before slamming Mike's head a few times into the top turnbuckle. Clyde takes a run up, before charging at Mike…
And clattering into him with a HUGE SPLASH!
Clyde takes another run up… and hits another! He goes for a third… BUT NO! Mike lifts up the elbow, and Clyde is sent tumbling back. Holding his hurt jaw, Mike measures Clyde, and charges at him for a LARIAT!
Clyde ducks! Mike turns around, right into a BIG BOOT! Mike is staggered, tumbling back into the ropes… he bounds back… right into a second BIG BOOT!
Clyde covers Mike once more!
ONE…
TWO-KICKOUT!
Clyde huffs, but plans to get straight back on the offense. He grabs Mike by the head and starts to lift his opponent, but MIKE powers himself up, lifting Clyde into the air!
SPINEBUSTER!!!
Clyde hits the mat hard, clutching at his back, as Mike gives himself a little time to recover as the crowd boo. He moves back over to Clyde, and starts stomping on him aggressively, before lifting him by the waist… and bringing him down with a NASTY GERMAN SUPLEX!!!
Mike wastes no time, lifting Clyde up again, and bringing him down with a SECOND German! And a THIRD! And a FOURTH!!!
He covers Clyde…
ONE…
TWO…
KICKOUT!
Mike gives another nasty stomp to Clyde's head in retaliation to the kickout, before picking him, and planting him down with a FIFTH GERMAN SUPLEX!!! Clyde looks worse for wear, as he lays sprawled across the mat, and Mike looks from the corner to his opponent, and knows what to set up for.
Mike moves over to the corner, and awaits his opponent to get to his feet…
Christian Cage: We've seen this before! We know what he's setting up for here!
Jim Ross: He hits this Spear, this match could well be over!
Clyde is to his feet, and the crowd are screaming for him to not turn around, but alas, he does, and Dyno-Mike charges hungrily…
BUT PROPELS HIMSELF INTO THE AIR! LEAPFROG! Mike goes face first into the middle turnbuckle, before bouncing off into Clyde's arms! He's on the Personal Trainer's shoulders in seconds…
RUNNING POWERSLAM!!! Mike is brought down hard…
ONE…
TWO…
KICKOUT!
The crowd scream in disapproval as Clyde rolls onto his knees, as he ponders on his next course of action. He does a few press ups to get himself amped up, before lifting Mike to his feet, and up onto his shoulders in a Fireman's Carry position!
Clyde moves into the middle of the ring, the crowd cheering in anticipation…
Christian Cage: What's he going for here?
Sadly, we'll never know! Mike wriggles off of Clyde's shoulders, and catches Clyde with a deadly uppercut as he turns to face him! Clyde falls backwards into the ropes, as Mike bounds off of the ropes on the other side…
The pair meet in the middle…
SPEAR!!! Mike rocks Black Clyde with a VICIOUS SPEAR!!!
Mike wastes no time, and covers Clyde quickly…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
The crowd erupts with boos as Mike rolls off of the motionless Black Clyde, victorious. He grins to himself, as he looks out across the disapproving crowd from his sitting position, pulling a cigar out of his pocket, lighting it, and smoking it right there in the ring.
Dyno-Mike defeats Black Clyde in 5:03
Mike is up to his feet, wrenching his arm away from the referee as he tries to raise it. Mike just stays staring at the downed Black Clyde, and anger starts to fill his eyes once more.
Dyno Mike: If you ain't paying my laundry bill with money, you'll pay it with pain!
He moves over to Clyde, and lifts him to his knees, before grabbing the cigar out of his mouth, and aiming it at Clyde's eye. The crowd are screaming for Mike to stop, as the fiery orange end of the cigar gets closer and closer to Clyde's open eye, Clyde himself being too weak to overpower Mike and stop this.
But the boos turn to cheers, Mike looks up to the stage, and sees powering out, running towards the ring, is Black Clyde's team members, Ruxx Rampede and Big Homunculus! Mike drops the cigar and rolls out of the ring quickly, as Ruxx and Homunculus are by Clyde's side in seconds. Mike only smiles, as he hops the barricade into the crowd, and slowly with a smile, moves up the stairs towards the fire exit.
The Three Big Niggas watch him leave, appalled from their position in the ring. Mike takes one last look back at them, and after pointing at the trio, brings his thumb across his throat. Ruxx meanwhile, grabs the cigar from the floor, and crushes it in his hand as he glares up at the Atomic Texan. A chortle is returned from Mike, before he finally leaves, the segment fading out on the concerned faces of the Three Big Niggas.
Crossfade into a vignette. We open inside of Calgary International Airport. JT Dunn is sitting on his phone in the waiting area of the airport. Growing more and more agitated by the second.
JT Dunn
Come on... where is this man! He should've been here by now.
? ? ?
Hey...is everything okay?
JT, who was focused on his phone, looks over his shoulder to the left, to see a woman sitting next to him.
JT Dunn
Umm... Yeah, yeah everything's cool... just waiting for a friend. Who should've been here by now.
? ? ?
Yeah. I get that... I'm waiting for one of my friends too. They're coming in from Dayton, have you ever been down that way?
JT then immediately focuses his full attention onto the woman
.
JT Dunn
Yeah, I used to wrestle down there exclusively until about 2016, then my friend got signed to a major wrestling company. So I kinda got left out to dry.
? ? ?
Oh... that sounds unfortunate. Is this the same friend you're waiting for?
JT goes quiet for a second.
JT Dunn
...maybe...
The mystery woman laughs, not laughing at him... but laughing with him.
JT Dunn
You probably think I'm just some massive loser now, don't ya?
? ? ?
Hmmm... nah. I think you have your reasons behind it. This friend of yours must be important to you... I mean, you're sat here... just to wait for him to arrive.
JT smiles. Yeah... Hero is important to him. I mean, he wouldn't be where he is in wrestling without him... Hero is his mentor.
JT Dunn
Yeah... I guess you could say that.
? ? ?
I'm sorry... I never caught your name.
JT smiles again.
JT Dunn
That's 'cause I never threw it out there. I'm Johnny, or JT, whatever you wanna call me really.
? ? ?
Nice to meet you JT. I'm Cait.
Cait extends her hand towards JT, which he accepts and shakes.
JT Dunn
So... this friend of yours... what are they like?
Cait
Well... I've known them for all my life really. She is someone I can talk to for hours upon hours about... absolutely nothing. You know?
JT Dunn
Yeah. I getcha, that's kinda how my friend is for me.
JT looks down at the floor, twiddling his thumbs. Before then looking back at her and asking.
JT Dunn
So... you in Alberta for long?
Cait
Well... I hope so. Don't really want to go home. This place just seems so nice to be around.
JT Dunn
That's fair enough. Alberta is pretty cool... I've only been here a couple weeks and I don't want to leave.
Cait gives a faint smile.
Cait
That's good to hear... not-not to say that I'm happy that you're staying. That wou-would be weird. We've only just met.
JT smiles, before looking back down at his phone at the time. Hero should've been here at least fifteen minutes ago. JT is starting to get worried now... unsure of where he is.
JT Dunn
It's cool, Cait. I get what you mean.
He looks down at his phone again... letting out a sigh. Where the fuck is Chris at? Did he not catch his flight? Did he miss it? Was there a delay he didn't know about?
Cait
This dude must be really important. You haven't stopped checking your phone for the past half hour. Is that... is that you and him as your phone background?
He opens his phone again and looks at the lockscreen... yeah... it's him and Hero doing the signature D.b.E pose (Which is really just a rip off Kings of Wrestling pose... but we won't get into specifics here.)
JT Dunn
Yeah... He trained me. He's my hero really... which is a funny story actually…
Cait
It is?
JT Dunn
Yeah... But you probably don't want to hear it... I feel like I've been talking your ear off for the past fifteen minutes.
Cait gives a soft smile.
Cait
Honestly... I would love to hear it.
JT Dunn
Are you sure? It probably isn't even that funny.
Cait
I am certain of it. I wouldn't be asking otherwise.
JT Dunn
Alright, So...it's because his wrestling name...get this...is Chris H-
Chris Hero
Hero. My wrestling name is Chris Hero.
JT immediately gets out of the seat, giving Hero the warmest of bro-hugs ever seen.
JT Dunn
Dude! I was starting to get worried man. What took you so long?
Chris Hero
I was on the other side of the airport waiting for you. Did you not get my text about the terminal change?
JT checks his phone.
JT Dunn
Oh, no I didn't. Must've not sent yet.
Hero checks his phone.
Chris Hero
Ahh... yeah... it says "Message not delivered". Is that a bad thing?
JT laughs, as much of a Wrestling Genius Hero was. Fuckin' hell he was awful with technology.
Chris Hero
Are you going to introduce me to the lady you were talking to? Or am I just gonna stand here like some awkward third wheel?
JT Dunn
Oh! Yeah for sure!
JT turns back to where Cait is sitting, just looking at her phone now.
JT Dunn
Chris, meet Cait. Cait, meet Chris Hero. My trainer, tag team partner and mentor.
Cait
Lovely to meet you Mr. Hero.
Chris Hero
Now that's a new one. Please, just call me Chris. Anyways, We gotta get going man. We only have two days to train. Get our chemistry back as a team.
JT Dunn
Shit... you're right. We gotta get going.
JT turns to Cait.
JT Dunn
So...it was nice talking to you.
Cait
You too JT...Will I see you again sometime?
JT Dunn
Yeah...I mean... You can catch me on TV on AW-
Before he can finish that sentence, Chris slaps the back of his head. JT realizes what for as soon as Cait starts giggling. JT then opens his phone and hands it to her, Cait adds her number to his contact list then hands it back to him.
Cait
I'll see you soon.
JT Dunn
Yeah... yeah you will.
JT and Cait hug, before Hero starts walking off, Dunn quickly catches up. Only for Hero to slap the back of his head again... for very obvious reasons.
Fade out to commercial.
Fade back into the side of Austin’s face, watching the commercial, a proud smile on his face.
Commissioner Austin
Ain’t nothin’ like some nice meaty Dick’s.
Fade out then into our next scene. We open on a relatively small but nice suburban house late at night, the mailbox outside reads “Annie”. Inside, the house is messy but practical. The walls are clear, but there are patches on the walls from where photos once hung. The house itself is full of patches. Marks on carpets where furniture once was, a table big enough for 5 with only 2 chairs around it. The only decor left is the essential stuff, sofas, wardrobes and each of them looks like the furniture someone much older would choose.
Annie is at the table sat down. On her phone she watches the most recent Boneius match. The sounds of another car pulling up are heard. Barron Boneius walks into the house.
Barron Boneius
Annie, I was a foolish fossil, a feeble frump!
Annie sits at the table quietly
Barron Boneius
I’m sorry.
Annie
(Quietly) I like you Boneius. You have no idea how much I like you, how much I want this to work.
Barron Boneius
I was stupid, what I said was stupid.
Annie
It’s not that, I mean it is, but. I like you because when I talk to you I’m actually talking to you. No games, no tricks, you don’t say what you think I wanna hear and you never pretend to be feeling something you aren’t. You’re just you, and I’m just me. I don’t think you know how rare that is. When you said that stuff, what you said was terrible, but, what hurt, was that suddenly you were just like everyone else. Talking from behind a mask. I can't stand the lies, and I don’t ever want to fall for them again, and I though I was safe from that with you. Now I don’t know.
Boneius stands there in silence. He nods to himself.
Barron Boneius
I should go, Snivley’s waiting outside and he hasn’t eaten since yesterday.
Annie
I don’t care about that.
Barron Boneius
Yeah, neither do I.
Another long pause.
Barron Boneius
If you want me to go, I’ll go.
Annie
I don’t want you to go, I just… if this is going to work –
Boneius sits down on the one other chair next to her. Annie puts her hand on his.
Annie
I need to know that this is you. That if something’s wrong, you’ll tell me, if something changes you’ll tell me, that this, this is real, that you’re just you, and I’m just me.
Boneius places his other hand on hers.
Barron Boneius
I swear it. If I’m lying, I’ll, I’ll, I’ll kiss Snivley.
Annie with a light laugh to herself.
Annie
Wow, I’ll hold you to that.
She takes a moment to sit up.
Annie
When I imagined the first time you came round it certainly wasn’t like this.
Annie sits up even straighter.
Annie
Do you want a drink?
Barron Boneius
I should sleep, I, I haven’t slept much since the party.
Annie
You could, always stay here. Just for a night, then get back to training tomorrow.
Boneius smiles
Barron Boneius
One night.
Montage
For this montage the framing remains the same all the way through and plays to the tune of Bill Ryder-Jones - Don't Be Scared, I Love You. As each scene changes the month on the calendar goes forward one. No other sounds are heard other than the song.
January 2020
Boneius is in the kitchen cooking, badly, but trying. Annie comes down in a t-shirt and laughs, before going up and hugging him.
February 2020
Annie is gesturing to a new photo frame hung on the wall. Most of the photos are empty except a couple of the two of them. Annie looks proud as Boneius looks at it with joy. (As each month passes the photo wall grows busier and busier)
March 2020
Boneius walks in with a box of clothes and items from the cave. Annie takes the box from him and carries it out of frame. Boneius looks after her, with a big smile.
April 2020
Annie opens the door as Leslie, Koltov, and Snivley all walk into the hallway for a dinner party. Everyone is dressed smartly. Boneius walks over and takes their coats and gestures them to the kitchen where some wine glasses are out.
May 2020
Annie is asleep at the kitchen table, with an open laptop and some medical textbooks open in front of her. Boneius sees her like this and walks out of frame, only to return with a blanket and place it over her.
June 2020
Annie and Boneius are struggling to carry a large new wardrobe into the house.
July 2020
Annie and Boneius are looking out the window. We can see the light of fireworks outside flashing.
August 2020
Boneius and Annie are stood looking at the photo wall, hand in hand. Annie rests her head on his shoulder.
September 2020
Boneius, Annie, Koltov, and Leslie are stood in the kitchen cheering as Leslie pops a bottle of champagne. A sign overhead reads, “Season 2 Greenlit”
October 2020
Boneius helps Annie to carve a pumpkin, ghost style, guiding her hands from behind.
November 2020
Annie runs in and jumps into an embrace with Boneius. She breaks away and shows him a new name tag, “Chief Nursing Officer”.
December 2020
The house is decorated for Christmas, a collection of friends are walking around drinking when Boneius and Annie run in dressed as Santa.
January 2021
Annie walks in to see Boneius stood still with his hands behind his back. She embraces him and feels the object clasped behind him in his hands. They look at each other the entire time as she feels the object, a box, she opens the box behind his back and feels a ring. She nods as they both start to well up.
February 2021
Boneius and Annie are sat at the table with a collection of folders on venues and food options, they are showing each other various items.
March 2021
The table is piled high with folders, Boneius and Annie are sat trying cake, Boneius gets some icing on his lips and Annie reaches over and wipes it of.
April 2021
Boneius has a huge stack of invites in hand and is walking for the door. Annie rushes over and places one more on top before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek as he leaves.
May 2021
Leslie walks into the house. She walks into the kitchen and immediately starts jumping with joy. Annie walks into frame in a wedding dress. Leslie runs up and embraces her.
June 2021
Boneius, Koltov, and Snivley are all stood in the kitchen trying on suits. Boneius pats Snivley on the shoulder, crouches down to his level, and fixes the little man's tie.
July 2021
At night, the house is dark when Boneius walks in with Annie in his arms, him in his suit, her in her dress. The two kiss. (The photo wall is overflowing, with images now, most not even in frames, just attached to the outside)
August 2021
Boneius walks into the house to see Annie sat at the table. He slowly walks over, she looks up at him and smiles as she takes his hand, and then places it on her belly.
September 2021
Annie and Leslie walk past carrying a large crib while Boneius is sat at the table with a stack of books on parenting.
October 2021
Boneius has Snivley in his arms like a baby, practising holding him. Annie is moving his arms showing him how to do it properly.
2:34 in the song
November 2021
At night Boneius comes home to see Annie sat at the table crying. He stands and looks at her for a moment. She looks up at him. Boneius shakes his head then rips the photo wall down, throwing it across the room in rage.
December 2021
At night, we can see snow outside. Boneius and Annie are both just sat at the kitchen table. Both with a glass in front of them and a bottle of drink on the table.
January 2022
Same as December except without the snow, and now only Boneius sits at the table. Annie walks past in work gear, she looks at him them leaves.
February 2022
The same scene.
March 2022
The same scene.
April 2022
The same scene except for this time Annie doesn’t even look at him as she walks past.
May 2022
Boneius has finished the bottle. He looks up to see Annie leaving. As he moves to get up he cuts his hand on something. He pulls a small piece of the wooden frame from the old photo wall out of his hand. For a long moment, he looks at it.
June 2022
During the day. Annie walks into the house. She doesn’t see Boneius at the table. Slowly she walks through the kitchen and into the room beyond. The frame moves to follow her as she goes into the next room over and finds Boneius, hanging the last frame of a new photo wall. It’s a shock, but a beautiful one. Slowly the two walk towards each other and embrace, then look at the wall of memories for a long moment.
Crossfade, a very gentle one indeed. In a darkly lit room Kolotov walks in, in a suit. Leslie is tied to a chair in a police uniform, glaring at him. The room is empty aside from the chair and a few boxes.
Leslie Jones
You lay a finger on me and–
Kolotov
You’re hardly in a position to bargain.
Kolotov takes out a pistol and points it at her head.
Kolotov
Don’t worry, I’m a busy man, so, let’s skip the banter and get this done fast shall we.
Kolotov cocks the pistol
Kolotov
I dare say this has gone on long enough as it is Jones.
Leslie starts laughing.
Leslie Jones
One problem smart guy...I’m not Jones.
Leslie lashes her head forwards and the perfect Leslie Jones mask being worn flies off to reveal, Barron Boneius. Kolotov jumps back in shock.
Kolotov
But, if you’re here then?!
One of the boxes moves silently behind him. It’s Leslie, curled up in a ball and painted to look like a box. She unfurls and rolls into the centre of the room behind Kolotov and whips out two pistols.
Leslie Jones
Aloha motherfucker.
She pulls the triggers.
Director
AND CUT!
Pan out to reveal the set of the season 1 finale of Hawaii Bone-0
Leslie walks over to Kolotov and slaps him on the back., as crew start to walk into the frame and move things around.
Leslie Jones
Damn K, you killed that!
Kolotov
Really? I thought I was being too soft again you know.
Leslie Jones
Nah man, that was real legit acting right there.
Boneius is out of the chair and on his phone. He shoots fingers guns at the two of them.
Barron Boneius
Still on for the devilishly delightful dinner party?
Leslie Jones
We’ll see you there Boneius, tell Annie I miss her.
Barron Boneius
You saw her yesterday.
Leslie Jones
(With a smile) And, I still miss her.
Boneius walks away. Leslie and Kolotov walk together back to their trailers. Leslie reaches her door and pauses.
Leslie Jones
You heard anything from your brother yet.
Kolotov shakes his head. Leslie can see he’s upset.
Leslie Jones
Hey K, don’t worry about it man.
Kolotov
Everyone keeps telling me I’m better without him, that I should hate him for trying to control me all these years.
Leslie Jones
And what do you think?
Kolotov
I think he did it because he wanted the best for me, I wouldn't be here without him. And I turned my back on him.
Kolotov shrugs
Kolotov
Family stuff I think.
Leslie smiles at him.
Leslie Jones
K, you might be speaking to one of the few people on this planet who actually gets it. SNL was like my family, I spent years working up the courage to leave, and when I did. Man, the moment I did it, straight after, like the second after, I though, that’s it Leslie, you just fucked your whole life up. I still think it some days.
Kolotov nods.
Leslie Jones
I told you I got it.
Kolotov
I miss him.
Leslie Jones
I know K. But you can’t keep being a feature on someone else’s show forever. Only so many times you can prop up a guest host before you gotta step into that light yourself.
Kolotov grins
Kolotov
You certainly give better speeches than him.
Leslie Jones
Now lets hurry up and get to training to see if I fight better than him.
Kolotov nods and opens the door to his trailer.
Kolotov
(Joyfully) I saw the way you fought Chiklis, I’m sure we’ll be fine.
Kolotov enters his trailer. Leslie is left standing there. The world becomes almost totally silent as she looks down at her hands. After a long beat she pulls out her phone, makes sure no one is looking and opens her internet. A tab is already open on an article that reads “The hunt for famed actor Michael Chiklis continues”. Leslie refreshes the page, and the article stays the same. She almost looks disappointed.
Kolotov emerges from his trailer in gym gear.
Kolotov
The competition is weird as hell. Best Friends, Savoir-Faire, The Family. I don’t recognise any of these people.
Leslie snaps out of her trance.
Leslie Jones
Yeah, it’s weird.
Kolotov
Hey, I was thinking, if we’re going to fight together, we need a name right.
Leslie Jones
You got an idea?
Kolotov
I don’t usually do the naming thing, that was always Alaric.
Leslie Jones
Then it’s time to step into the light K, what we calling ourselves.
Kolotov
We...can be...no, we will be....Stand Up Smack Down. Get it, because you do stand up and I do the smacking d-
Leslie Jones
I got it, and man, I like it. So let's go Stand Up and Smack Down some losers!
Fade out on Leslie’s smiling face and in on the arena.
Boos follow Eclipse out from the curtain, but she only allows glaring looks across the arena as any acknowledgement of their disapproval.
Mark Beverly: The following tag team bout is set for one fall! Introducing from Detroit, Michigan, weighing one thirty pounds, this is the SHE-BORG! ECLIPSE!
Her boots stomp heavy on the ramp until she’s made her way ringside.
Cut to the stage.
On the cue… nothing happens.
And nothing happens.
Mark Beverly: And her tag team partner, from Iowa City, Iowa, weighing two hundred sixty five pounds -- THE FIRST! PHIL! GOOOOOODE!
Nothing at all.
The titantron and theme fades out.
The first thirty seconds are filled with a flashy titantron, lights, and camera cuts, but no wrestlers, until the vocals close in at thirty seconds: then, with surefire hype do Chris Hero and JT Dunn emerge from the curtain. They each take their own side of the stage then switch over, basking in the warm reception.
Mark Beverly: And the opponents, at a combined weight of four hundred forty six pounds -- JT Dunn and Chris Hero: DEATH! BY! ELBOW!
Cut to Eclipse, arguing with the referee, likely asking where her partner is.
Cut to Death by Elbow entering the ring on either side from the hard camera. Chris Hero stays on the apron, but JT Dunn enters the ring ready to go. Eclipse turns annoyed at her opponent’s lagging back, but ready to begin the match, ordering referee Sandra Yandel to get it underway.
Ding!
An immediate lockup is engaged by Eclipse & JT Dunn, tossing each other around the canvas, before Dunn finds the perfect opportunity for a side step and dip, bringing her down with a classic belly-to-back wrestling takedown. A waistlock is popped up, then quickly turned into an aggressive side headlock so as to surprise the woman -- though her side headscissors counter seems to shock JT just as much even if only for a moment.
A kip-up goes nowhere, with Eclipse’s legs wrapping a noose-like grip under the chin and behind the head.
Cut to Phil Goode - in his velour sweatsuit - taking a steady, bouncy walk down the ramp then stopping to interact with fans.
Cut to Eclipse, releasing her leglace to approach the ropes nearest the ramp, shouting reprimands at her ‘partner’.
Cut to Phil Goode offering a delayed response, the busty blonde in the front row concerning his attention prior. He offers a ‘one minute’ sort of finger wave, before the same blonde hands him a black Sharpie. She offers up her bosom, of which he takes a goode look, before a nice phil feel -- then decides to write his Twitter handle on her forehead. The camera catches his mouthing ‘DM me.’
Cut to an infuriated Eclipse -- getting rolled up by JT Dunn! Classic schoolboy!
Sandra Yandel: ONE!......
T--KICKOUT
Quick get-up by both -- standing spinning heel kick connects with JT’s jaw!
After his encounter with one lucky fan, Phil Goode continues his deliberate trot down to ringside and wraps around the squared circle. His focus is not on the match at hand but rather the audience and the endless boos directed his way. He refuses to hop on the apron and assist his tag-team partner for the night. Instead, Goode strolls to where the timekeeper is seated and requests a microphone.
Phil Goode
(Pointing at the microphone propped in the announcer’s lap) Could you please pass me the mic?
The announcer is so intimidated that he forgets the microphone is right in front of him and begins looking all over the small designated area.
Phil Goode
(Now pointing with two of his massive fingers) Hey! Airhead, it’s RIGHT THERE. (Struggling to deal with this utter stupidity) Give… get… come… give me the damn microphone you worthless son of a rich bitch. You’re obviously not qualified for this job. (Ramming one more insult into the innocent man’s chest) If your dick wasn’t hibernating, you probably would’ve felt it sitting right there.
Before snatching the microphone out of the announcer’s hand, Phil Goode is sure to send a nasty lougie towards his direction. Once the microphone is in his grasps, Goode violently removes the AWF branded mic flag and throws it into the second row of fans. He assumes his position in front of the lead commentary table and blocks Lance Storm’s line of sight. Goode taps the pop filter and slowly raises the mic to his bearded mouth and speaks…
Phil Goode
(Putting a stop to the action in the ring) Hold it! Hold it! Hold up! STOP THE MATCH. (Long dramatic pause) The Goode guy has something he wants to say.
Everything in the Toyota Center is put to a halt and all eyes are on “The First” Phil Goode. Once again, the stands are covered with Goode's favorite phrase.
Phil Goode
(The crowd knows what’s next and they are ready to join along) FIRST THINGS FIRST… from THE FIRST!
Half of the capacity crowd echoes Goode, the other half boos.
Phil Goode
I would like to wish the commissioner… of all commissioners… Booker T (slight pause into an arrogant grin) a happy, healthy, and wonderful extended vacation. (Spitefully) When you do your job and look out for your employees on a day to day basis, it is only right that you get rewarded. I’m hoping that he takes this time to relax with his beautiful wife Sharmell, he certainly deserves it.
Christian Cage: What is he doing JR? This man is hijacking the show.
Phil Goode
(Hearing the last comment made by Christian Cage, Goode turns his back and addresses the legend) Ohhh, Chrissy boy. I’m not the only AWF superstar to hijack something, so why don’t you sit there, shut your mouth, and enjoy the show Cage.
Christian Cage: Thanks to you Phil Goode, I can’t SEE the show.
Jim Ross: Hey Cage, don’t talk to him like that! I mean… I have the best seat in the house, so I’m not complaining.
Both members of the commentary team fade into silence as the Goode one jumps from where he left off.
Phil Goode
(Nodding at Cage) Yeah Cage, listen to your buddy and let the real superstars play. (Getting back on track) Before I was rudely interrupted, I was going to praise my tag-team partner Eclipse. I want to thank whoever put us together because she has the right idea about this wrasslin’ thing. She’s got BALLS. She’s tough, she’s smart, and she is programmed to understand what it means to be GOODE in the ring. When you speak on Eclipse’s name, you better refer to her as the Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy She-Borg Queen that she is! I think I’m ready to finally get this match started.
Christian Cage: The match has already started, you're late to the party… again.
Jim Ross: What’s your problem Cage, I’m actually quite fond of this guy.
Christian Cage: I figured.
Phil Goode
(Capturing the crowd's attention for one last time) Before we can do that though, there’s one thing I gotta say. Lemme break down my opponents with some Goode math.
Goode grabs a notepad and pen from Christian Cage’s side of the commentary table and proceeds to write.
Phil Goode
(Writing on the pad with sharp, swift movements) JT DUNN... if that is even your real name, I am twice the man you are. CHRIS HERO, I am also twice the man that you are! So, by my calculations, if Eclipse is half the man, I am… (holding up his sausage fingers) that would make us 6 times more likely to win the match and 6 times more likely to kick your asses.
Goode drops the microphone and dives into the ring head-on.
But Sandra Yandel is there to meet him, holding him off and forcing him toward the ropes. Both hands of his flies up.
Phil Goode: Alright alright! God! Alright!
He exits the ring, but doesn’t sit on the apron, instead walking around back toward the ramp.
Back inside the ring, Eclipse is totally focused on the uselessness of who she’s been paired up with, yelling at the man from inside the ring and not quite noticing Chris Hero’s sly entry into the ring untagged.
Cut to Phil Goode, arguing back as he slowly walks backwards back up the ramp.
Phil Goode: What’re you yelling at me for ya broad?! I’m just listening to the other broad!
And hey look, y’know, the knee? Y’know?
Christian Cage: Where the hell’s he going?!
Jim Ross: That man shoulda been a Sooner, dammit.
Cut to Eclipse turning RIGHT INTO A CHRIS HERO CYCLONE KICK FROM HELL! SHE DOESN’T GO DOWN BUT IS SPUN -- ROLLING ELBOW!
Christian Cage: DEATH IS WELCOME!
Hero exits the ring so as to ensure not complications as JT rolls over into the leg hook.
Sandra Yandel: ONE!.......
TWO!...........
THREE!
DING DING DING
Cut to Phil Goode, who gives the most uncaring shrug and smirk you’ve ever seen, before he fully turns his back to the situation and exits the arena.
Cut back to the shot in the ring, JT and Chris having their hands raised in the center of the ring barely having sweat even a drop.
Mark Beverly: The winners of this match - JT Dunn and Chris Hero: DEATH! BY! ELLLLLLLLBOW!
Both men take a turnbuckle toward the hard camera, sending a showcase of the elbow striking pose to the crowd that claps the men along.
Death by Elbow d. Eclipse & Phil Goode in 6:34
A fade out to our last commercial break of the evening.
