Post by The Commissioner on Jul 8, 2020 22:31:38 GMT -5
An eerie slow fade in for tonight’s cold open.
We're in Battle Creek, Michigan. More specifically, a shooting range in Battle Creek, Michigan. Max Ironside dons large orange earmufflers, and a pair of goggles, as with his good arm, he blasts hole after hole into a target down the range. He doesn't look his usual self however. Bags sit under his eyes, his skin paler than usual, his very aura depressing and ghoulish. It is clear that the second loss to Priscilla Kelly has taken absolutely everything out of him. He takes his anger out here, at the range, anger he wishes he could place upon Priscilla.
Voice
Damn, you poor bastard, you gotta shoot one-handed ain't ya!
Max turns slowly to put the disembodied voice to a face. A rather old, grisled looking Redneck, unkempt mohawk, wearing stained clothing, denim jeans, and a leather waistcoat. In the hand he doesn't hold his pistol, he holds a bottle of Jim Beam whiskey, taking a swig of it as he aims his gun down the range and misses every single shot.
Drunk Redneck
Eh! What can you do?
Max Ironside
Not drink at the gun range?
Drunk Redneck
That your gun there?
Max Ironside
Sure is. What's it to you?
Drunk Redneck
Just curious. I'm selling is all, if you're buying?
Max Ironside
I'm good with just this one thanks.
Drunk Redneck
Well, what about this missus? Don't she want to be packin?
Max Ironside
I try to keep her out of the know that I even have this one.
The drunk Redneck laughs.
Drunk Redneck
Oh I see I see.
After reloading, Max fires again down the shooting range, and the redneck squints to see what he's shooting at. A cardboard cutout of Priscilla Kelly, attached to the target board. The Redneck laughs.
Drunk Redneck
Ex-wife?
Max Ironside
Certainly not.
Max nails one final shot between the eyes of the cardboard Priscilla Kelly.
CUT TO
The Drunk Redneck stumbling his way down the street outside the shooting range, he gets to a rusty, banged up car, and leans on the bonnet, before pulling out his cellphone and making a call. The other end picks up.
Drunk Redneck
Beefton? You there?
On the other end of the phone, a voice sounds, Beefton's voice.
Beefton
Yo I'm here! Got any info?
Drunk Redneck
Yeah he's got a glock. Just one I'm pretty sure. Wife doesn't know about it. Think that'll do?
Beefton
That'll do I think! Priscilla will be pleased to know!
Drunk Redneck
Great stuff. Got some bowling shoes for you by the way, for your date!
Beefton
Oh you did!?
Drunk Redneck
Yeah, in case you take her bowling. Thought I'd treat my favourite nephew! I know you said she's picking the date but, hey, might pick bowling y'know. Women love bowling. Gotta be prepared.
Beefton
Good thinking! Anyway I gotta go get this info to Priscilla, thanks for the help Uncle Rooker!
Uncle Rooker
No worries Beefton, see ya around kiddo.
Rooker hangs up the phone, as he leans his head back to take another swig of his Jim Beam whiskey. He leans back too far though, and entirely plummets backwards off of the car.
Fade out.
As that piece hits a minute five seconds in, the PrimeTime logo animates to life in the forefront of all the ensuing action before flashing into the Wells Fargo Center, Philadelphia responsible for the jam-packed crowd here on the fifth show of the U.S. Leg of AWF’s Western World Tour.
Zipping across the venue, pyrotechnics match the electric audience in a multi-colored spectacle before the camera view settles on a wide shot of the entire arena. Following the display of the sold out audience, we crossfade gently to a shot of the commentary team ringside: ‘Good Ol’ JR’ Jim Ross and ‘Captain Charisma’ Christian Cage, both donning rather serious expressions.
Jim Ross: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Alberta Wrestling Federation - welcome to Tuesday Night PrimeTime! Jim Ross sitting next to former world champion Christian Cage for yet another awesome show brought to you by ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin! We start the night off with an interview I conducted over the last week with inaugural AWF World’s Champion, Priscilla Kelly --
YOODDDDEELLLLLLLLLAAAYEURTYEHRSUDYHASYDWTYRHWHCAG
Cut to the stage.
José Figueiras comes out and the crowd dies and shit and you know the drill cmon. He grabs the mic and shit. You know the details. José Figueiras starts spinning around the ring.
José Figueiras
[Chorus]
Some are Born to fight
Some Are Born to sin
I was born to light the fire
And burn all that you fear
Some were born to fight
I was Born, I was Born to win!
[Verse 1]
I see the time is ticking
I see the world is spinning
I see your soul to be demised
I see the fear in your eyes
I see the bead of sweat there
I see your empty lies, too late to say a prayer!
I move as fast as the speed of light
I'll take you into the darkest night
Make you believe what you don't want to see
For the rest of your life you will answer to me!
[Chorus]
Some are Born to fight
Some Are Born to sin
I was born to light the fire
And burn all that you fear
Some were born to fight
I was Born, I was Born to win!
[Verse 2]
I came into this life alone
Tomorrow is the only day I know
I find my future there
I see a star for air
I'm more than you can bear
And hell is coming down!
I move as fast as the speed of light
I'll take you into the darkest night
Make you believe what you don't want to see
For the rest of your life you will answer to me!
[Chorus]
Some are Born to fight
Some Are Born to sin
I was born to light the fire
And burn all that you fear
Some were born to fight
I was Born, I was Born to win!
[Guitar Solo]
[Chorus]
Some are Born to fight
Some Are Born to sin
I was born to light the fire
And burn all that you fear
Some were Born to fight
I was Born, I was Born to win!
The crowd, dead or alive, stand up. People watching at home also stand up.
José Figueiras
Thank you! I will now bring Elvis Presley back from the dead.
José Figueiras brings Mr. Elvis back from the dead. He comes out the underside of the ring and shit, Lance Storm dies.
José Figueiras
You're welcome.
Elvis hugs Figueiras seductively and says:
Elvis Presley
Thank you. Thank you very much.
The lights go out.
This fades in slowly on the titantron:
Fade out.
We fade in to a small and comfortable looking room, two leather chairs stood facing one another. None other than Jim Ross is sat in one of them, whilst in the other, AWF World's Championship glistening in the light over her shoulder, is sat Hell's Favourite Harlot, Priscilla Kelly. The gold of the belt shines off of her delicate features, adding a glowing aura to the already stunningly beautiful face of Priscilla Kelly.
Jim Ross
Ladies and gentlemen, I am joined here today by the self-proclaimed Hell's Favourite Harlot, the Sucubus, and as I like to call her, the Dynamite Gal… AWF World's Champion, Priscilla Kelly!
Priscilla Kelly
Pleasure to be here Jim. I'm a big fan of these interviews.
Jim Ross
You are?
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah, I used to watch the one when Kane set you on fire over and over again as a kid.
Jim Ross
Oh, well that's-
Priscilla Kelly
On with the interview Rossy-boy!
Jim Ross
Oh, well, okay! You may know Priscilla Kelly from her runs in the indy circuit, stints in AEW, a competitor in the Mae Young Classic with WWE-
Priscilla Kelly
Get to the good part Jim.
Jim Ross
And what's that?
Priscilla Kelly
Alberta. Wrestling. Federation. Nowhere I've been holds a candle to this place. It's the best roof I've ever been under, the best federation I've ever been a part of by far! And you know what, Bret Hart gets none of the credit for that. The credit belongs squarely with me. I seized my own control in this place, I made this place my bitch, and since then it's been one of the most talked about, highly rated wrestling shows currently running. That's me Bret. That's me.[.i]
Jim Ross
On your resume is first a very brief stint with ‘Pro Wrestling Destruction,’ and I’d like to know more about that, but what was life for Priscilla early on? And I mean early, first years, first memories.
Priscilla Kelly
Oh Sp!t. That gal will forever hold the most special place in my heart. Ron found me when I ran away from home, and he helped me find Sp!t. This egregious little purple haired bitch who just helped me channel everything I felt at that moment in my life into my work. My hatred. My anger. My new desire to just be my own person. Sp!t gave me 3 weeks to just unleash all of that. 3 short weeks, but god, 3 of the best weeks of my life.
Priscilla's gaze rests on nothing momentarily. She stares at nothing, quite morosely.
Priscilla Kelly
My hair may not be purple anymore Jim, I may not wear a little black masquerade mask, but I'm still Sp!t. It's just that, what Sp!t understood, is that there's no reason to hide behind a fake name and mask. When you take the world by its balls, you want the world to look up at you, and see the face and know the name of the person who did it. The world doesn't fear the unknown figure behind the mask, the world fears me, Priscilla Kelly.
Priscilla props her title belt up onto her shoulder, and looks at it's glowing surface with a smile.
Priscilla Kelly
And as it fucking should.
Jim Ross
What's life on the road like with Ron Killings & S2?
Priscilla Kelly
Well, I travelled with them for a long time. I was only on TV for 3 weeks, but I was backstage with those guys for years y'know, Ron was training me the whole time and S2 was kinda just… there. But that said, I loved it, and I appreciated both those guys so much. I miss it all in a way. Ron was the first figure in my life that I ever felt like… a connection to. That I ever felt, actually cared about me. You can't understand how important that was to me. It was when I knew that I'd made the right decision, that taking my fate into my own hands yields good results, something which it still does today. If I hadn't ran away from home, I wouldn't have found Ron.
Jim Ross
So is that why you picked professional wrestling? Because you stumbled upon Ron Killings?
Priscilla Kelly
I stumbled upon Ron Killings BECAUSE I picked professional wrestling Jim. I always loved it, from being a child. I was told though that I wasn't allowed to watch it, that it was for boys, and I was a girl, so I should stick to things like cleaning, and knitting, and dedicating all my time to impressing Jimmy Smith. But the freedom I saw, and felt, every time wrestling was on TV, and I was able to sneakily watch it in my room… it was just so alien to me in that time of my life, but so wonderful. I'd never felt ecstasy like it. It was so far removed from something I felt capable of being able to do then and there in my life… but I wanted to do it so badly. As soon as I left home, it was the first thing I saute out.
Jim Ross
And Priscilla, do you believe you are worthy of the AWF World's Championship belt?
Priscilla Kelly
Excuse me?
Jim Ross
I meant-
Priscilla Kelly
What kind of fucking question is that? Do I believe I'm worthy? Are you joking?
Jim Ross
I meant no disrespect Priscilla-
Priscilla Kelly
Do you think I'm worthy Jim?
Jim Ross
Well of course I do but-
Priscilla Kelly
But you know others don't, which is why you asked. Do you think it's fair, the criticisms people have for me being Champion? The way they try to play down my success?
Jim Ross
I do not share those opinions myself-
Priscilla Kelly
But have you humoured those thoughts Jim?
Jim Ross
I've- I've… Priscilla…
Priscilla Kelly
Doggy! S2!
TO BE CONTINUED…
Fade out.
José Figueiras bursts into the GM's office and all that where Eric Bischoff is getting blown by Kelly Kelly.
José Figueiras
HEY!
Eric Bischoff
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Eric Bischoff disintegrates.
José Figueiras
You're not the GM.
José Figueiras wakes up from a minute long coma and discovers Eric Bischoff was never really real.
José Figueiras
Roderick?
Roderick Kross
Yes?
José Figueiras
Roderick?
Roderick Kross
Yes? I'm here, José!
José Figueiras
Are you though?
José Figueiras opens his eyes. Roderick isn't there.
José Figueiras
Oh, thank fuck.
José Figueiras kips-up and finds himself in the GM office, which is now quite ashy after Eric Bischoff's disintegration.
José Figueiras
Where IS Max Ironside?
The shot of an inquisitive-faced-Figueiras before we fade back into the arena.
The crowd in the Wells Fargo Center are chomping at the bit for some action, as Alberta Wrestling Federation's weekly episodic program, PrimeTime, is already rocking the house here tonight in Philadelphia. There's a slight lull in the action, as fans are anticipating what is happening next. Within a few seconds, the lights in the arena went completely dark and the fans in Philly started cheering, out of sheer excitement.
.. LOOK, EVERYONE .. IT'S TYLER!
The cheers of excitement quickly turned to jeers as Tyler Breeze's entrance music and video began to play. Simulated camera flashes went off all throughout the Wells Fargo Center, awaiting the arrival of "Prince Pretty". The camera switches to a shot at Tyler's fluffy boots as he struts out on the ramp, back turned to the camera. A drastic zoom out and Tyler turns over his left shoulder and strikes a pose that is enough to make millions of women orgasm at once. Turning around, Tyler lifts his selfie stick and raises it to his face, capturing his beauty and displaying it on the video screen behind him. Tyler struts down the ramp, only paying attention to the reflection of his beauty. When he gets half way down the ramp, a blonde female jumps the guardrail and tries to merely touch the greatness that is Tyler, but she's quickly swept off by the security team - an all too familiar occurrence for a pop icon like Tyler Breeze.
Tyler enters the ring and poses for the fans to get their photo opportunity of perfection personified. Still staring at himself in his cell phone, Tyler demands a microphone from a stage hand and is quickly given one. Tyler blows a kiss to his cell phone, before placing the selfie stick on the mat and raising the microphone to his lips, ready to speak his mind.
Tyler Breeze
Ladies and uggos .. my name is Tyler Breeze, but I'm quite sure that you already knew that, especially considering that I am world renowned for so many reasons. Maybe you've seen me trending on Twitter, or perhaps you've seen my beauty on Instagram. If you're as old and out-of-touch as Bret Hart and you don't know how to use modern technology, maybe you've seen my face gracing the cover of magazines. Or maybe, you're more familiar with me being Alberta Wrestling Federation's recent acquisition that has FINALLY given this company a much needed injection of credibility. As the most gorgeous grappler on this roster, it truly sickens me to see these ... cretins .. walking around in the locker room, with no shame. I see people, and I use that term loosely, walking around the locker room with no type of embarrassment for their poor fashion choices, awful haircuts, or ... they're simply just so damned gross. The only thing worse .. are these .. uggos in the crowd.
Tyler pauses and cringes at the mere thought of the people in AWF walking around with no shame for their unsightliness. Tyler paces around the ring and continues to speak as the fans boo him loudly.
Tyler Breeze
Now, last week .. things got a bit .. chaotic and I did not emerge victorious on that night. But, let me tell you .. I felt victory the next day when the cable ratings came in and there was a significant spike in ratings when Prince Pretty graced your television sets. You see, despite the best efforts of Mag Aluf, who undoubtedly STOLE a victory from me last week .. I would not be made out to be a "loser" .. which brings me to my opponent here tonight - Max Ironside. Now, if you people haven't been under a rock this week - and I know I may be giving you too much credit - you'd know that Ironside took his ball and he ran home. Yes, that's right ... your Handicapped Hero had a mouthful of Priscilla Kelly's nether regions last week and he lost his opportunity for the World's Championship. Then, he found out that he was scheduled to face off against Prince Pretty here tonight .. and do you know what young Maximilian did, ladies and uggos? He had a BF. That's right. A bitch-fit.
Jim Ross: He’s not wrong; Max Ironside opted out of the rest of his AWF contract last week just twenty-four hours after suffering a second defeat from AWF World’s Champion Priscilla Kelly.
Tyler shakes his head and continues to walk around the ring. He scoffs at Ironside's immaturity and continues to speak, looking directly into the hard cam, as it slowly zoomed in on his face.
Tyler Breeze
He threw a tantrum and you know what? I truly cannot blame him for one moment. If I was as disgusting and unkempt as Ironside, I wouldn't dare be caught next to PERFECTION PERSONIFIED, for fear of being exposed for the uggo that I am. But instead of sticking it out for another week and facing me like a man .. you ran and hid. Instead of trying to defeat me, and I understand that is damn near impossible, and trying to EARN an opportunity to enter The Elimination Chamber to challenge for the World's Championship for a second time - you ran home. But, what you did - throwing a tantrum and quitting - it was immensely smart and wise, and that's not something that is normally in your wheelhouse. So, congratulations on doing something right. And I know you're sitting at home right now, watching this and trying your best to rinse the taste of Priscilla Kelly's blood out of your mouth, and you're probably seething right now. Well, I'm sure this is going to make you even more angry, my little friend.
Tyler Breeze drops the microphone and walks towards the referee who is standing in the corner, minding his own business. Tyler grabs him by the collar and begins berating him, but our camera isn't able to pick up any of the actual audio. The referee is confused and trying to shield himself from being hit, but Tyler continues to yell at him.
Christian Cage: Oh, this is despicable! Tyler Breeze is trying to get this referee to start the match. We all know damn well that Max Ironside walked out of AWF last week and he's not here tonight.
Jim Ross: It might not be the "morally-right" move, but you have to admit, it's brilliant. This match had high stakes with the winner set to become the final entrant in the Elimination Chamber! You can't blame Tyler for trying this, Christian.
Indeed this seemed to be his plan. Tyler barked orders at the referee who raised his hands and finally agreed to start the match. He called for the bell and even the time-keeper was apprehensive, until Tyler started ordering him around as well. The referee orders that the "match" starts and calls for the bell to ring. DING, DING, DING! Tyler smirked smugly and nodded his head in approval, happy with what he's done. He immediately propped his feet on the ropes in the corner and barked orders at the referee to begin counting Max Ironside out.
Don Quintillis: ONE!
TWO!
Christian Cage: ]This is how he's going to become the final entrant into the main event of The Brawl at Yankee Stadium? In a farce of a match? This is embarrassing!
Don Quintillis: THREE!
Tyler Breeze is looking at his finger nails, admiring the manicure that he had gotten days before. The crowd is booing loudly, obviously hoping to see Max Ironside tonight. It's their own fault for thinking that that pussy was any good anyway.
Don Quintillis: FOUR!
Jim Ross: Well, I know it's not official yet, but I guess we know who's going to be the last entrant in the Elimination Chamber! Tyler Breeze, just two weeks after arriving in the AWF, has earned a shot at the World's Championship!
Don Quintillis: FIVE!
Christian Cage: Earned?! What the hell are you talking about? He lost his match last week, he got power-bombed through a table and he's "winning" a match in the cheapest way that I've seen in some time!
Don Quintillis: SIX!
Tyler admires himself through his selfie stick, toying with his hair and making sure not a single hair is out of place.
Don Quintillis: SEVEN!
Christian Cage: This man is going to have an opportunity at the most prestigious prize in the business. And this is how he's going to earn the opportunity? I am disgusted!
Don Quintillis: EIGHT!
Jim Ross: The King of Cuteville has the opportunity to make history at The Brawl at Yankee Stadium, Cage!
Don Quintillis: NINE!
Jim Ross: Hell yes! This is exactly what I was hoping for! STONE COLD! STONE COLD!
Not only does JR have a stroke from excitement, but so do all of the fans in Philly! -- though in the same way as when in Houston. They come unglued in a showering of boos as Austin bursts through the curtain with a microphone already in hand. Tyler Breeze looks shocked as he leaps down to the mat and begins arguing with the referee that he should have been counting faster. Obviously never one to beat around the bush, Austin immediately launches into a tirade as Tyler Breeze stares on, jaw agape.
Commissioner Austin
I don’t like you. And if you think for one damn second that ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin is 'bout to let ya' make a mockery in my ring, ya' might be about as dumb as that Max Ironside sum'bitch! Now, you're right, Tyler - that beady-eyed little rat bastard Max Ironside high-tailed once he realized that he couldn't cut the mustard here in the AWF. The lil' bastard is lucky that Priscilla Kelly only did what she did to him - because if was up to ol' Stone Cold, I woulda' dropped him on that stack of dimes that he called a neck and I woulda' kicked his ass straight to the curb! But because that jackass decided to not board his flight this morning and bring himself to Philadelphia, that means that you're left without an opponent tonight. And as much as ol' Stone Cold would like to get into the ring and slap the look off that stupid lil' face of yours, I've got a much better idea.
Crowd
WHAT?!
Commissioner Austin
I said I've got a better plan.
Crowd
WHAT?!
Commissioner Austin
A better objective!
Crowd
WHAT?!
Commissioner Austin
A proposition!
Crowd
WHAT?!
Commissioner Austin
Instead of ol' Stone Cold walking down the aisle and stomping a mudhole in you ..How about I leave it up the 5 other people in the Elimination Chamber to beat to ever-livin' piss outta you, Tyler? You think that The Elimination Chamber is going to be a walk in the park? UH-UH! You got another thing comin', you slimy lil' piece of trash. If you want to see 5 people beat 7 different shades of shit out of Tyler Breeze .. GIMME A HELL YEAH!
Crowd
WHAT?!
Commissioner Austin
Congratulations, kid! Ya did it! You're in the Elimination Chamber, ya' dumb sum'bitch!
Tyler Breeze yells at Austin from inside the ring as Austin throws his hands up in the air, tosses the microphone down and sends two birds flipping Breeze’s way!
Christian Cage: Well, Tyler Breeze gets what he wants and officially is the final entrant in the Elimination Chamber for the World's Title at The Brawl at Yankee Stadium! But I don't think Breeze is prepared for what is to come!
Jim Ross: The Elimination Chamber is the most grueling match in professional wrestling history! Tyler might have become the final entrant in the Elimination Chamber, but this jackass is in for a rude awakening! He's stepping into the lion's den. He's stepping into a match that shortens careers and I think that realization might have just set in!
Tyler Breeze is livid as Austin flips Tyler the bird once more before disappearing behind the curtain, leaving Breeze with the realization that he very well may have bitten off more than he could chew. Breeze kicks the bottom rope and yells at the referee for not counting faster as we are taken by a crossfade.
José Figueiras is now seen walking around backstage and sees Todd Grisham.
José Figueiras
Hi Josh Mathews.
Tazz
I'm Joey Styles.
Fade out.
Fade in with only this on the screen:
Fade into another scene where no one really knows quite what the fuck is going on.
The Beer Can Man would enter a Dickies store.
Beer Can Man
So whats the name of this store?
Person
Dickies
Beer Can Man
What does that say on your shirt?
Person
Dickies.
Beer Can Man
Hehehe.. what do you sell?
Person
Balls. Wait a second! You are that person from the telephone!
Beer Can Man
Hahahaha.
*Beer Can Man would run out of the store and would enter the restraunt called Frying Nemo*
Beer Can Man
So whats on the menu?
Some dude
Kebabs, Burgers, Pizzas and Fish and Chips
Beer Can Man
Lemme get two Dorys and a Nemo please.
Some dude
Dude... just stop it. You came here the last week saying the exact same fucking thing.
*Beer Can Man would run would of Frying Nemo and would go to his trailor*
Beer Can Man
Lemme get dis good ass beer.
*Beer Can Man would call the restraunt called Hing Fat Kok*
Beer Can Man
Pizza, pasta, put in a box. Bring it here and put it on my cock! The tortelini on my weenie. Peppeironi on the walls. Cheesey on my peeny and soms sauce-a on my balls! Or in other words
Fruit salad, yummy, yummy
Fruit salad, yummy, yummy
Fruit salad, yummy, yummy
Yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy
Fruit salad.
*The restraunt guy would hang up*
We have no choice but to go to our first commercial after all this shit.
We return, to the backstage area.
Alaric wipes his hair out of his eyes, his dark brown, dry tufty fringe collapsing down his forehead, so he can better see his reflection in the mirror. He sees himself, his tired eyes. His pale skin. His unshaven stubble. In this moment, he doesn't look very much like a vampire.
As he squeezes his extra strength gel onto his hair, runs black rings around his eyes with eyeliner, pops in his fangs, and place the lighter/cross necklace given to him by his mother around his neck. Alaric looks up at the mirror, and despite the physical changes, still sees the same defeated man beneath.
He wanted to see the fierce and terrifying Alaric Dracislav. But he only saw Jerry McDonald.
His phone buzzes, a call is coming through. He answers quickly.
Alaric Dracislav
Hello?
Voice on Phone
Hello, Mr. Dracislav?
Alaric Dracislav
Speaking.
Voice on Phone
Perfect. Just been told by the AWF Marketing Team to give you a call, are you free on Thursday? We're hoping you could head by the studio so we can take a few scans of you for your action figure.
Alaric's face lights up. A big toothy grin.
Alaric Dracislav
Really? An action figure!? Of me!?
Voice on Phone
Of course, there's high demand for you sir.
Alaric Dracislav
There is!? Oh wow! I'm honoured, yes, thursday, I'll swing by!
Voice on Phone
Great. Leslie will be there too. We're doing you as a two-pher, as to promote your new tag team.
Alaric's face drops.
Alaric Dracislav
What? Is this call for umm… Alaric Dracislav?
Voice on Phone
Oh sorry, no, we're looking for a Kolotov Dracislav?
Alaric hangs up. His phone clatters along the floor as he looks at his reflection in the mirror. Tears emerge in his eyes, but he tries hard to fight them off.
But it's a losing effort. And there he stands, looking at the crying face of the man he hated being. The worse brother. The unsuccessful, unloveable, Alaric Dracislav. The man who thought day and night about his brother, seeing his raging success. His constant wins. His television career. His constant influx of auditions. His friends.
And he felt like it was his own fault. Alaric remembered how he used to speak to his brother, he remembered his harsh tones. He always told himself it's what his brother needed, but now, without him, is when his brother has thrived. Was he too harsh? Is it too late to change everything?
Yes. Yes it was. Kolotov wasn't coming back.
He'd lost his brother.
Alaric had enough of looking at himself, and punched the mirror. It didn't break, Alaric only howled as he clutched his bruised knuckles.
Alaric Dracislav
Owie owie owie!!!
Priscilla Kelly
Thought Vampires didn't have reflections.
Alaric Dracislav
EY!!!
Alaric tries to hide that he just jumped almost halfway across the room from fright, but it's too late, and he stands looking on edge in the middle of the room. There, leaning on the doorway, is Hell's Favourite Harlot, Priscilla Kelly.
Alaric Dracislav
You! You're the one who told me to confront Barron Boneius in the first place! You're the reason I'm in this mess!
Priscilla Kelly
Excuse me?
Alaric Dracislav
At your party! You told me to confront the Barron and-
Priscilla Kelly
Sure did, Alaric. Is there a problem?
Alaric Dracislav
Well, my brother-
Priscilla Kelly
Did what? Left you? Because you were trying to stand up for yourself? We all saw how that skeletal fuck treated you, it was awful, and you'd had enough and what? Your brother didn't stand by you, like you'd stood by him through all those years, just because a bit of fame was coming his way?
Alaric Dracislav
Well. Actually I was, starting to think maybe I didn't treat him so good-
Priscilla Kelly
Maybe Alaric, if he was willing to leave his own brother high and dry just for a role in a sucky TV series, he didn't deserve to be treat so good in the first place. That night, I pushed you to do what was best for you, and it may not seem like that's the case right now. But I can assure you, it is. I've kept my eye on you, you're impressive. You really are. You're not relying on others to find success like your little bro, you're trying to claim it yourself, and that's admirable. It really is.
Alaric nods, a feeling surges within him, one that's felt foreign to him for weeks now. Confidence.
Priscilla Kelly
Don't think about your brother. Think about yourself. Once you're done in your match tonight, come find me. We'll have a little chat. Things'll start looking up soon Alaric, trust me.
Priscilla winks at Alaric, before she starts moving out of the room.
Priscilla Kelly
Nice leather jacket by the way, you look like Blade. It's sexy.
And with that, she's gone, and Alaric's relieved, as she doesn't see him go bright red, and she doesn't see the involuntary smile that emerges on his face. He looks back at himself in the mirror, and a different face looks back.
There he is.
There's Alaric Dracislav.
Crossfade into another backstage scene.
José Figueiras finally finds Bret Hart or Stone Cold or Booker T or whoever the fuck is in charge now fucking hell it's been like 3 weeks stop changing GMs ffsJosé Figueiras
[/span][/div]We're in Battle Creek, Michigan. More specifically, a shooting range in Battle Creek, Michigan. Max Ironside dons large orange earmufflers, and a pair of goggles, as with his good arm, he blasts hole after hole into a target down the range. He doesn't look his usual self however. Bags sit under his eyes, his skin paler than usual, his very aura depressing and ghoulish. It is clear that the second loss to Priscilla Kelly has taken absolutely everything out of him. He takes his anger out here, at the range, anger he wishes he could place upon Priscilla.
Voice
Damn, you poor bastard, you gotta shoot one-handed ain't ya!
Max turns slowly to put the disembodied voice to a face. A rather old, grisled looking Redneck, unkempt mohawk, wearing stained clothing, denim jeans, and a leather waistcoat. In the hand he doesn't hold his pistol, he holds a bottle of Jim Beam whiskey, taking a swig of it as he aims his gun down the range and misses every single shot.
Drunk Redneck
Eh! What can you do?
Max Ironside
Not drink at the gun range?
Drunk Redneck
That your gun there?
Max Ironside
Sure is. What's it to you?
Drunk Redneck
Just curious. I'm selling is all, if you're buying?
Max Ironside
I'm good with just this one thanks.
Drunk Redneck
Well, what about this missus? Don't she want to be packin?
Max Ironside
I try to keep her out of the know that I even have this one.
The drunk Redneck laughs.
Drunk Redneck
Oh I see I see.
After reloading, Max fires again down the shooting range, and the redneck squints to see what he's shooting at. A cardboard cutout of Priscilla Kelly, attached to the target board. The Redneck laughs.
Drunk Redneck
Ex-wife?
Max Ironside
Certainly not.
Max nails one final shot between the eyes of the cardboard Priscilla Kelly.
CUT TO
The Drunk Redneck stumbling his way down the street outside the shooting range, he gets to a rusty, banged up car, and leans on the bonnet, before pulling out his cellphone and making a call. The other end picks up.
Drunk Redneck
Beefton? You there?
On the other end of the phone, a voice sounds, Beefton's voice.
Beefton
Yo I'm here! Got any info?
Drunk Redneck
Yeah he's got a glock. Just one I'm pretty sure. Wife doesn't know about it. Think that'll do?
Beefton
That'll do I think! Priscilla will be pleased to know!
Drunk Redneck
Great stuff. Got some bowling shoes for you by the way, for your date!
Beefton
Oh you did!?
Drunk Redneck
Yeah, in case you take her bowling. Thought I'd treat my favourite nephew! I know you said she's picking the date but, hey, might pick bowling y'know. Women love bowling. Gotta be prepared.
Beefton
Good thinking! Anyway I gotta go get this info to Priscilla, thanks for the help Uncle Rooker!
Uncle Rooker
No worries Beefton, see ya around kiddo.
Rooker hangs up the phone, as he leans his head back to take another swig of his Jim Beam whiskey. He leans back too far though, and entirely plummets backwards off of the car.
Fade out.
As that piece hits a minute five seconds in, the PrimeTime logo animates to life in the forefront of all the ensuing action before flashing into the Wells Fargo Center, Philadelphia responsible for the jam-packed crowd here on the fifth show of the U.S. Leg of AWF’s Western World Tour.
Zipping across the venue, pyrotechnics match the electric audience in a multi-colored spectacle before the camera view settles on a wide shot of the entire arena. Following the display of the sold out audience, we crossfade gently to a shot of the commentary team ringside: ‘Good Ol’ JR’ Jim Ross and ‘Captain Charisma’ Christian Cage, both donning rather serious expressions.
Jim Ross: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Alberta Wrestling Federation - welcome to Tuesday Night PrimeTime! Jim Ross sitting next to former world champion Christian Cage for yet another awesome show brought to you by ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin! We start the night off with an interview I conducted over the last week with inaugural AWF World’s Champion, Priscilla Kelly --
YOODDDDEELLLLLLLLLAAAYEURTYEHRSUDYHASYDWTYRHWHCAG
Cut to the stage.
José Figueiras comes out and the crowd dies and shit and you know the drill cmon. He grabs the mic and shit. You know the details. José Figueiras starts spinning around the ring.
José Figueiras
[Chorus]
Some are Born to fight
Some Are Born to sin
I was born to light the fire
And burn all that you fear
Some were born to fight
I was Born, I was Born to win!
[Verse 1]
I see the time is ticking
I see the world is spinning
I see your soul to be demised
I see the fear in your eyes
I see the bead of sweat there
I see your empty lies, too late to say a prayer!
I move as fast as the speed of light
I'll take you into the darkest night
Make you believe what you don't want to see
For the rest of your life you will answer to me!
[Chorus]
Some are Born to fight
Some Are Born to sin
I was born to light the fire
And burn all that you fear
Some were born to fight
I was Born, I was Born to win!
[Verse 2]
I came into this life alone
Tomorrow is the only day I know
I find my future there
I see a star for air
I'm more than you can bear
And hell is coming down!
I move as fast as the speed of light
I'll take you into the darkest night
Make you believe what you don't want to see
For the rest of your life you will answer to me!
[Chorus]
Some are Born to fight
Some Are Born to sin
I was born to light the fire
And burn all that you fear
Some were born to fight
I was Born, I was Born to win!
[Guitar Solo]
[Chorus]
Some are Born to fight
Some Are Born to sin
I was born to light the fire
And burn all that you fear
Some were Born to fight
I was Born, I was Born to win!
The crowd, dead or alive, stand up. People watching at home also stand up.
José Figueiras
Thank you! I will now bring Elvis Presley back from the dead.
José Figueiras brings Mr. Elvis back from the dead. He comes out the underside of the ring and shit, Lance Storm dies.
José Figueiras
You're welcome.
Elvis hugs Figueiras seductively and says:
Elvis Presley
Thank you. Thank you very much.
The lights go out.
This fades in slowly on the titantron:
Fade out.
We fade in to a small and comfortable looking room, two leather chairs stood facing one another. None other than Jim Ross is sat in one of them, whilst in the other, AWF World's Championship glistening in the light over her shoulder, is sat Hell's Favourite Harlot, Priscilla Kelly. The gold of the belt shines off of her delicate features, adding a glowing aura to the already stunningly beautiful face of Priscilla Kelly.
Jim Ross
Ladies and gentlemen, I am joined here today by the self-proclaimed Hell's Favourite Harlot, the Sucubus, and as I like to call her, the Dynamite Gal… AWF World's Champion, Priscilla Kelly!
Priscilla Kelly
Pleasure to be here Jim. I'm a big fan of these interviews.
Jim Ross
You are?
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah, I used to watch the one when Kane set you on fire over and over again as a kid.
Jim Ross
Oh, well that's-
Priscilla Kelly
On with the interview Rossy-boy!
Jim Ross
Oh, well, okay! You may know Priscilla Kelly from her runs in the indy circuit, stints in AEW, a competitor in the Mae Young Classic with WWE-
Priscilla Kelly
Get to the good part Jim.
Jim Ross
And what's that?
Priscilla Kelly
Alberta. Wrestling. Federation. Nowhere I've been holds a candle to this place. It's the best roof I've ever been under, the best federation I've ever been a part of by far! And you know what, Bret Hart gets none of the credit for that. The credit belongs squarely with me. I seized my own control in this place, I made this place my bitch, and since then it's been one of the most talked about, highly rated wrestling shows currently running. That's me Bret. That's me.[.i]
Jim Ross
On your resume is first a very brief stint with ‘Pro Wrestling Destruction,’ and I’d like to know more about that, but what was life for Priscilla early on? And I mean early, first years, first memories.
Priscilla Kelly
Oh Sp!t. That gal will forever hold the most special place in my heart. Ron found me when I ran away from home, and he helped me find Sp!t. This egregious little purple haired bitch who just helped me channel everything I felt at that moment in my life into my work. My hatred. My anger. My new desire to just be my own person. Sp!t gave me 3 weeks to just unleash all of that. 3 short weeks, but god, 3 of the best weeks of my life.
Priscilla's gaze rests on nothing momentarily. She stares at nothing, quite morosely.
Priscilla Kelly
My hair may not be purple anymore Jim, I may not wear a little black masquerade mask, but I'm still Sp!t. It's just that, what Sp!t understood, is that there's no reason to hide behind a fake name and mask. When you take the world by its balls, you want the world to look up at you, and see the face and know the name of the person who did it. The world doesn't fear the unknown figure behind the mask, the world fears me, Priscilla Kelly.
Priscilla props her title belt up onto her shoulder, and looks at it's glowing surface with a smile.
Priscilla Kelly
And as it fucking should.
Jim Ross
What's life on the road like with Ron Killings & S2?
Priscilla Kelly
Well, I travelled with them for a long time. I was only on TV for 3 weeks, but I was backstage with those guys for years y'know, Ron was training me the whole time and S2 was kinda just… there. But that said, I loved it, and I appreciated both those guys so much. I miss it all in a way. Ron was the first figure in my life that I ever felt like… a connection to. That I ever felt, actually cared about me. You can't understand how important that was to me. It was when I knew that I'd made the right decision, that taking my fate into my own hands yields good results, something which it still does today. If I hadn't ran away from home, I wouldn't have found Ron.
Jim Ross
So is that why you picked professional wrestling? Because you stumbled upon Ron Killings?
Priscilla Kelly
I stumbled upon Ron Killings BECAUSE I picked professional wrestling Jim. I always loved it, from being a child. I was told though that I wasn't allowed to watch it, that it was for boys, and I was a girl, so I should stick to things like cleaning, and knitting, and dedicating all my time to impressing Jimmy Smith. But the freedom I saw, and felt, every time wrestling was on TV, and I was able to sneakily watch it in my room… it was just so alien to me in that time of my life, but so wonderful. I'd never felt ecstasy like it. It was so far removed from something I felt capable of being able to do then and there in my life… but I wanted to do it so badly. As soon as I left home, it was the first thing I saute out.
Jim Ross
And Priscilla, do you believe you are worthy of the AWF World's Championship belt?
Priscilla Kelly
Excuse me?
Jim Ross
I meant-
Priscilla Kelly
What kind of fucking question is that? Do I believe I'm worthy? Are you joking?
Jim Ross
I meant no disrespect Priscilla-
Priscilla Kelly
Do you think I'm worthy Jim?
Jim Ross
Well of course I do but-
Priscilla Kelly
But you know others don't, which is why you asked. Do you think it's fair, the criticisms people have for me being Champion? The way they try to play down my success?
Jim Ross
I do not share those opinions myself-
Priscilla Kelly
But have you humoured those thoughts Jim?
Jim Ross
I've- I've… Priscilla…
Priscilla Kelly
Doggy! S2!
TO BE CONTINUED…
Fade out.
José Figueiras bursts into the GM's office and all that where Eric Bischoff is getting blown by Kelly Kelly.
José Figueiras
HEY!
Eric Bischoff
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Eric Bischoff disintegrates.
José Figueiras
You're not the GM.
José Figueiras wakes up from a minute long coma and discovers Eric Bischoff was never really real.
José Figueiras
Roderick?
Roderick Kross
Yes?
José Figueiras
Roderick?
Roderick Kross
Yes? I'm here, José!
José Figueiras
Are you though?
José Figueiras opens his eyes. Roderick isn't there.
José Figueiras
Oh, thank fuck.
José Figueiras kips-up and finds himself in the GM office, which is now quite ashy after Eric Bischoff's disintegration.
José Figueiras
Where IS Max Ironside?
The shot of an inquisitive-faced-Figueiras before we fade back into the arena.
The crowd in the Wells Fargo Center are chomping at the bit for some action, as Alberta Wrestling Federation's weekly episodic program, PrimeTime, is already rocking the house here tonight in Philadelphia. There's a slight lull in the action, as fans are anticipating what is happening next. Within a few seconds, the lights in the arena went completely dark and the fans in Philly started cheering, out of sheer excitement.
.. LOOK, EVERYONE .. IT'S TYLER!
The cheers of excitement quickly turned to jeers as Tyler Breeze's entrance music and video began to play. Simulated camera flashes went off all throughout the Wells Fargo Center, awaiting the arrival of "Prince Pretty". The camera switches to a shot at Tyler's fluffy boots as he struts out on the ramp, back turned to the camera. A drastic zoom out and Tyler turns over his left shoulder and strikes a pose that is enough to make millions of women orgasm at once. Turning around, Tyler lifts his selfie stick and raises it to his face, capturing his beauty and displaying it on the video screen behind him. Tyler struts down the ramp, only paying attention to the reflection of his beauty. When he gets half way down the ramp, a blonde female jumps the guardrail and tries to merely touch the greatness that is Tyler, but she's quickly swept off by the security team - an all too familiar occurrence for a pop icon like Tyler Breeze.
Tyler enters the ring and poses for the fans to get their photo opportunity of perfection personified. Still staring at himself in his cell phone, Tyler demands a microphone from a stage hand and is quickly given one. Tyler blows a kiss to his cell phone, before placing the selfie stick on the mat and raising the microphone to his lips, ready to speak his mind.
Tyler Breeze
Ladies and uggos .. my name is Tyler Breeze, but I'm quite sure that you already knew that, especially considering that I am world renowned for so many reasons. Maybe you've seen me trending on Twitter, or perhaps you've seen my beauty on Instagram. If you're as old and out-of-touch as Bret Hart and you don't know how to use modern technology, maybe you've seen my face gracing the cover of magazines. Or maybe, you're more familiar with me being Alberta Wrestling Federation's recent acquisition that has FINALLY given this company a much needed injection of credibility. As the most gorgeous grappler on this roster, it truly sickens me to see these ... cretins .. walking around in the locker room, with no shame. I see people, and I use that term loosely, walking around the locker room with no type of embarrassment for their poor fashion choices, awful haircuts, or ... they're simply just so damned gross. The only thing worse .. are these .. uggos in the crowd.
Tyler pauses and cringes at the mere thought of the people in AWF walking around with no shame for their unsightliness. Tyler paces around the ring and continues to speak as the fans boo him loudly.
Tyler Breeze
Now, last week .. things got a bit .. chaotic and I did not emerge victorious on that night. But, let me tell you .. I felt victory the next day when the cable ratings came in and there was a significant spike in ratings when Prince Pretty graced your television sets. You see, despite the best efforts of Mag Aluf, who undoubtedly STOLE a victory from me last week .. I would not be made out to be a "loser" .. which brings me to my opponent here tonight - Max Ironside. Now, if you people haven't been under a rock this week - and I know I may be giving you too much credit - you'd know that Ironside took his ball and he ran home. Yes, that's right ... your Handicapped Hero had a mouthful of Priscilla Kelly's nether regions last week and he lost his opportunity for the World's Championship. Then, he found out that he was scheduled to face off against Prince Pretty here tonight .. and do you know what young Maximilian did, ladies and uggos? He had a BF. That's right. A bitch-fit.
Jim Ross: He’s not wrong; Max Ironside opted out of the rest of his AWF contract last week just twenty-four hours after suffering a second defeat from AWF World’s Champion Priscilla Kelly.
Tyler shakes his head and continues to walk around the ring. He scoffs at Ironside's immaturity and continues to speak, looking directly into the hard cam, as it slowly zoomed in on his face.
Tyler Breeze
He threw a tantrum and you know what? I truly cannot blame him for one moment. If I was as disgusting and unkempt as Ironside, I wouldn't dare be caught next to PERFECTION PERSONIFIED, for fear of being exposed for the uggo that I am. But instead of sticking it out for another week and facing me like a man .. you ran and hid. Instead of trying to defeat me, and I understand that is damn near impossible, and trying to EARN an opportunity to enter The Elimination Chamber to challenge for the World's Championship for a second time - you ran home. But, what you did - throwing a tantrum and quitting - it was immensely smart and wise, and that's not something that is normally in your wheelhouse. So, congratulations on doing something right. And I know you're sitting at home right now, watching this and trying your best to rinse the taste of Priscilla Kelly's blood out of your mouth, and you're probably seething right now. Well, I'm sure this is going to make you even more angry, my little friend.
Tyler Breeze drops the microphone and walks towards the referee who is standing in the corner, minding his own business. Tyler grabs him by the collar and begins berating him, but our camera isn't able to pick up any of the actual audio. The referee is confused and trying to shield himself from being hit, but Tyler continues to yell at him.
Christian Cage: Oh, this is despicable! Tyler Breeze is trying to get this referee to start the match. We all know damn well that Max Ironside walked out of AWF last week and he's not here tonight.
Jim Ross: It might not be the "morally-right" move, but you have to admit, it's brilliant. This match had high stakes with the winner set to become the final entrant in the Elimination Chamber! You can't blame Tyler for trying this, Christian.
Indeed this seemed to be his plan. Tyler barked orders at the referee who raised his hands and finally agreed to start the match. He called for the bell and even the time-keeper was apprehensive, until Tyler started ordering him around as well. The referee orders that the "match" starts and calls for the bell to ring. DING, DING, DING! Tyler smirked smugly and nodded his head in approval, happy with what he's done. He immediately propped his feet on the ropes in the corner and barked orders at the referee to begin counting Max Ironside out.
Don Quintillis: ONE!
TWO!
Christian Cage: ]This is how he's going to become the final entrant into the main event of The Brawl at Yankee Stadium? In a farce of a match? This is embarrassing!
Don Quintillis: THREE!
Tyler Breeze is looking at his finger nails, admiring the manicure that he had gotten days before. The crowd is booing loudly, obviously hoping to see Max Ironside tonight. It's their own fault for thinking that that pussy was any good anyway.
Don Quintillis: FOUR!
Jim Ross: Well, I know it's not official yet, but I guess we know who's going to be the last entrant in the Elimination Chamber! Tyler Breeze, just two weeks after arriving in the AWF, has earned a shot at the World's Championship!
Don Quintillis: FIVE!
Christian Cage: Earned?! What the hell are you talking about? He lost his match last week, he got power-bombed through a table and he's "winning" a match in the cheapest way that I've seen in some time!
Don Quintillis: SIX!
Tyler admires himself through his selfie stick, toying with his hair and making sure not a single hair is out of place.
Don Quintillis: SEVEN!
Christian Cage: This man is going to have an opportunity at the most prestigious prize in the business. And this is how he's going to earn the opportunity? I am disgusted!
Don Quintillis: EIGHT!
Jim Ross: The King of Cuteville has the opportunity to make history at The Brawl at Yankee Stadium, Cage!
Don Quintillis: NINE!
Jim Ross: Hell yes! This is exactly what I was hoping for! STONE COLD! STONE COLD!
Not only does JR have a stroke from excitement, but so do all of the fans in Philly! -- though in the same way as when in Houston. They come unglued in a showering of boos as Austin bursts through the curtain with a microphone already in hand. Tyler Breeze looks shocked as he leaps down to the mat and begins arguing with the referee that he should have been counting faster. Obviously never one to beat around the bush, Austin immediately launches into a tirade as Tyler Breeze stares on, jaw agape.
Commissioner Austin
I don’t like you. And if you think for one damn second that ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin is 'bout to let ya' make a mockery in my ring, ya' might be about as dumb as that Max Ironside sum'bitch! Now, you're right, Tyler - that beady-eyed little rat bastard Max Ironside high-tailed once he realized that he couldn't cut the mustard here in the AWF. The lil' bastard is lucky that Priscilla Kelly only did what she did to him - because if was up to ol' Stone Cold, I woulda' dropped him on that stack of dimes that he called a neck and I woulda' kicked his ass straight to the curb! But because that jackass decided to not board his flight this morning and bring himself to Philadelphia, that means that you're left without an opponent tonight. And as much as ol' Stone Cold would like to get into the ring and slap the look off that stupid lil' face of yours, I've got a much better idea.
Crowd
WHAT?!
Commissioner Austin
I said I've got a better plan.
Crowd
WHAT?!
Commissioner Austin
A better objective!
Crowd
WHAT?!
Commissioner Austin
A proposition!
Crowd
WHAT?!
Commissioner Austin
Instead of ol' Stone Cold walking down the aisle and stomping a mudhole in you ..How about I leave it up the 5 other people in the Elimination Chamber to beat to ever-livin' piss outta you, Tyler? You think that The Elimination Chamber is going to be a walk in the park? UH-UH! You got another thing comin', you slimy lil' piece of trash. If you want to see 5 people beat 7 different shades of shit out of Tyler Breeze .. GIMME A HELL YEAH!
Crowd
WHAT?!
Commissioner Austin
Congratulations, kid! Ya did it! You're in the Elimination Chamber, ya' dumb sum'bitch!
Tyler Breeze yells at Austin from inside the ring as Austin throws his hands up in the air, tosses the microphone down and sends two birds flipping Breeze’s way!
Christian Cage: Well, Tyler Breeze gets what he wants and officially is the final entrant in the Elimination Chamber for the World's Title at The Brawl at Yankee Stadium! But I don't think Breeze is prepared for what is to come!
Jim Ross: The Elimination Chamber is the most grueling match in professional wrestling history! Tyler might have become the final entrant in the Elimination Chamber, but this jackass is in for a rude awakening! He's stepping into the lion's den. He's stepping into a match that shortens careers and I think that realization might have just set in!
Tyler Breeze is livid as Austin flips Tyler the bird once more before disappearing behind the curtain, leaving Breeze with the realization that he very well may have bitten off more than he could chew. Breeze kicks the bottom rope and yells at the referee for not counting faster as we are taken by a crossfade.
José Figueiras is now seen walking around backstage and sees Todd Grisham.
José Figueiras
Hi Josh Mathews.
Tazz
I'm Joey Styles.
Fade out.
Fade in with only this on the screen:
Fade into another scene where no one really knows quite what the fuck is going on.
The Beer Can Man would enter a Dickies store.
Beer Can Man
So whats the name of this store?
Person
Dickies
Beer Can Man
What does that say on your shirt?
Person
Dickies.
Beer Can Man
Hehehe.. what do you sell?
Person
Balls. Wait a second! You are that person from the telephone!
Beer Can Man
Hahahaha.
*Beer Can Man would run out of the store and would enter the restraunt called Frying Nemo*
Beer Can Man
So whats on the menu?
Some dude
Kebabs, Burgers, Pizzas and Fish and Chips
Beer Can Man
Lemme get two Dorys and a Nemo please.
Some dude
Dude... just stop it. You came here the last week saying the exact same fucking thing.
*Beer Can Man would run would of Frying Nemo and would go to his trailor*
Beer Can Man
Lemme get dis good ass beer.
*Beer Can Man would call the restraunt called Hing Fat Kok*
Beer Can Man
Pizza, pasta, put in a box. Bring it here and put it on my cock! The tortelini on my weenie. Peppeironi on the walls. Cheesey on my peeny and soms sauce-a on my balls! Or in other words
Fruit salad, yummy, yummy
Fruit salad, yummy, yummy
Fruit salad, yummy, yummy
Yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy
Fruit salad.
*The restraunt guy would hang up*
We have no choice but to go to our first commercial after all this shit.
We return, to the backstage area.
Alaric wipes his hair out of his eyes, his dark brown, dry tufty fringe collapsing down his forehead, so he can better see his reflection in the mirror. He sees himself, his tired eyes. His pale skin. His unshaven stubble. In this moment, he doesn't look very much like a vampire.
As he squeezes his extra strength gel onto his hair, runs black rings around his eyes with eyeliner, pops in his fangs, and place the lighter/cross necklace given to him by his mother around his neck. Alaric looks up at the mirror, and despite the physical changes, still sees the same defeated man beneath.
He wanted to see the fierce and terrifying Alaric Dracislav. But he only saw Jerry McDonald.
His phone buzzes, a call is coming through. He answers quickly.
Alaric Dracislav
Hello?
Voice on Phone
Hello, Mr. Dracislav?
Alaric Dracislav
Speaking.
Voice on Phone
Perfect. Just been told by the AWF Marketing Team to give you a call, are you free on Thursday? We're hoping you could head by the studio so we can take a few scans of you for your action figure.
Alaric's face lights up. A big toothy grin.
Alaric Dracislav
Really? An action figure!? Of me!?
Voice on Phone
Of course, there's high demand for you sir.
Alaric Dracislav
There is!? Oh wow! I'm honoured, yes, thursday, I'll swing by!
Voice on Phone
Great. Leslie will be there too. We're doing you as a two-pher, as to promote your new tag team.
Alaric's face drops.
Alaric Dracislav
What? Is this call for umm… Alaric Dracislav?
Voice on Phone
Oh sorry, no, we're looking for a Kolotov Dracislav?
Alaric hangs up. His phone clatters along the floor as he looks at his reflection in the mirror. Tears emerge in his eyes, but he tries hard to fight them off.
But it's a losing effort. And there he stands, looking at the crying face of the man he hated being. The worse brother. The unsuccessful, unloveable, Alaric Dracislav. The man who thought day and night about his brother, seeing his raging success. His constant wins. His television career. His constant influx of auditions. His friends.
And he felt like it was his own fault. Alaric remembered how he used to speak to his brother, he remembered his harsh tones. He always told himself it's what his brother needed, but now, without him, is when his brother has thrived. Was he too harsh? Is it too late to change everything?
Yes. Yes it was. Kolotov wasn't coming back.
He'd lost his brother.
Alaric had enough of looking at himself, and punched the mirror. It didn't break, Alaric only howled as he clutched his bruised knuckles.
Alaric Dracislav
Owie owie owie!!!
Priscilla Kelly
Thought Vampires didn't have reflections.
Alaric Dracislav
EY!!!
Alaric tries to hide that he just jumped almost halfway across the room from fright, but it's too late, and he stands looking on edge in the middle of the room. There, leaning on the doorway, is Hell's Favourite Harlot, Priscilla Kelly.
Alaric Dracislav
You! You're the one who told me to confront Barron Boneius in the first place! You're the reason I'm in this mess!
Priscilla Kelly
Excuse me?
Alaric Dracislav
At your party! You told me to confront the Barron and-
Priscilla Kelly
Sure did, Alaric. Is there a problem?
Alaric Dracislav
Well, my brother-
Priscilla Kelly
Did what? Left you? Because you were trying to stand up for yourself? We all saw how that skeletal fuck treated you, it was awful, and you'd had enough and what? Your brother didn't stand by you, like you'd stood by him through all those years, just because a bit of fame was coming his way?
Alaric Dracislav
Well. Actually I was, starting to think maybe I didn't treat him so good-
Priscilla Kelly
Maybe Alaric, if he was willing to leave his own brother high and dry just for a role in a sucky TV series, he didn't deserve to be treat so good in the first place. That night, I pushed you to do what was best for you, and it may not seem like that's the case right now. But I can assure you, it is. I've kept my eye on you, you're impressive. You really are. You're not relying on others to find success like your little bro, you're trying to claim it yourself, and that's admirable. It really is.
Alaric nods, a feeling surges within him, one that's felt foreign to him for weeks now. Confidence.
Priscilla Kelly
Don't think about your brother. Think about yourself. Once you're done in your match tonight, come find me. We'll have a little chat. Things'll start looking up soon Alaric, trust me.
Priscilla winks at Alaric, before she starts moving out of the room.
Priscilla Kelly
Nice leather jacket by the way, you look like Blade. It's sexy.
And with that, she's gone, and Alaric's relieved, as she doesn't see him go bright red, and she doesn't see the involuntary smile that emerges on his face. He looks back at himself in the mirror, and a different face looks back.
There he is.
There's Alaric Dracislav.
Crossfade into another backstage scene.
José Figueiras finally finds Bret Hart or Stone Cold or Booker T or whoever the fuck is in charge now fucking hell it's been like 3 weeks stop changing GMs ffsJosé Figueiras
Can I bring back MLK from the dead?
Bret Hart
Yes. Not Jr. though.
José Figueiras
Ye I meant Sr.
Bret Hart
Fair enough.
José Figueiras brings back Reverend Martin Luther King Jr's dad, Martin Luther King, from the dead.
José Figueiras
Hi.
MLK Sr. hugs José Figueiras seductively, and says.
MLK
Thank you, thank you very much.
José Figueiras
You would not believe your eyes
If ten million fireflies
Lit up the world as I fell asleep
'Cause they fill the open air
And leave teardrops everywhere
You'd think me rude but I would just stand and stare
I'd like to make myself believe that planet earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems
'Cause I'd get a thousand hugs
From ten thousand lightning bugs
As they tried to teach me how to dance
A foxtrot above my head
A sock hop beneath my bed
A disco ball is just hanging by a thread (thread, thread)
I'd like to make myself believe that planet earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems (when I fall asleep)
Leave my door open just a crack
Please take me away from here
'Cause I feel like such an insomniac
Please take me away from here
Why do I tire of counting sheep
Please take me away from here
When I'm far too tired to fall asleep
To ten million fireflies
I'm weird cause I hate goodbyes
I got misty eyes as they said farewell (said farewell)
But I'll know where several are
If my dreams get real bizarre
'Cause I saved a few and I keep them in a jar (jar, jar)
I'd like to make myself believe that planet earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems (when I fall asleep)
I'd like to make myself believe that planet earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems (when I fall asleep)
MLK
Wow
José Figueiras
That's Fireflies by Owl City.
MLK
I didn't know that.
José Figueiras
I'm José Figueiras.
MLK
That, my friend, I did know.
They share a high five but kind of miss. You know what it's like sometimes. They share a good laugh together and then sit on a couch eating croissants and listening to Rob Conway's theme song.
A crossfade into the arena to see that Alaric's theme song is just wrapping up as he does a few celebrations in the ring, gaining absolutely zero fan response. It hurts just a little, but he tries to remember the words told to him by Priscilla Kelly, as he turns to face one of his two opponents of the night, Eclipse, who stands in the center of the ring facing him.
As his music dies down, the pair await their third opponent, the very interesting and… unique… Beer Can Man.
But his music doesn't hit.
The other two stand, in anticipatory silence, just waiting for the Beer Can Man…
But nothing. He doesn't emerge.
Mark Beverly looks confused, as he turns to the official for the match, Cal Elton, and shrugs. Cal isn't sure what to do, until suddenly, a beer can rains from the sky and clonks Mark Beverly on top of the head. Mark clutches at his skull as he tumbles out of the ring, before Cal, Alaric, and Eclipse all turn to look at the trajectory of the can and where it came from.
Cal Elton: Ah shit.
A second beer can smacks Cal between the eyes, and he flings to the mat in the same dramatic manner as Marv from the Home Alone films. Running through the crowd, not down one of the aisles, just clambering through the seats that the actual fans are sitting in, is Beer Can Man. Over his head is a Beer Hat, and in his hand he carries a crate of beer cans, before using his other to grab another can, and launch it at the ring.
Not wanting a repeat of what happened at Gold Rush where an air-born object split his skull open, Alaric manages to dodge out of the way of the cans. Eclipse tries too, but as the BCM gets closer and closer, she can only evade for so long before a can strikes her shoulder, knocking her off balance, before another can whaps her on the head, sending her careening out of the ring.
Beer Can Man has finally reached the front row, and climbing up onto the barricade, he pulls out another can, before cracking it open, and guzzling it all down in front of Alaric. He tries to throw the empty beer can, but it just goes nowhere as it's too light. Not letting this ruin his momentum, he grabs another beer can, and charges at the ring.
He's inside, ready to throw it at Alaric, who zig zags the best he can. BCM tosses the beer can, and that scene from the first Spider-Man occurs, where Green Goblin throws those razor blade things at Spider-Man in the burning building but he manages to flip and evade them. Imagine that, but with beer cans.
BCM only has one beer can left, but Alaric is upon him, grabbing the beer can as well, and the pair have a tug of war for who can take control of it.
Alaric nearly has it!
BCM nearly has it!
This is a WAR for the last beer can!
Until Eclipse comes out of nowhere with a trash can!
She slams it over BCM's head, watching as he collapses into a heap and rolls out of the ring, before turning towards Alaric, and bringing it hard over his dome! Alaric stumbles backwards, as Eclipse drops the trash can to the mat…
Gut kick to Alaric! She sets him up over the trash can…
PILEDRIVER!!! Alaric slams head first into the steel trash can!!!
He lays over in a slump, as Eclipse covers him!
Cal counts the pin…
Cal Elton: ONE!…
TWO!…
THREE!
Eclipse gets it! She jumps to her feet in celebration, fist pumping the air, proud of her first win in the company! She gets to the top rope, and taunts the booing fans.
...but her music hasn't hit.
She looks confused, looking from the titantron, over to Cal, who himself looks a little unsure. Suddenly, the timekeeper gets his attention.
Timekeeper: Cal! CAL!!!
Cal Elton: What?
Timekeeper: You never called for the bell!
Eclipse stops in her tracks, horrified, as the crowd suddenly burst into laughter. The She-Borg turns slowly, eyes filled with rage, as she glares at Cal, who simply gulps and puts his hands up apologetically.
Eclipse: You stupid mother fucker!
Cal Elton: I'm sorry I'm sorry!
Eclipse: Call for the fucking bell!
Cal does so, and finally, the bell rings.
Eclipse runs over, and pins Alaric again…
Cal Elton: ONE!…
TWO…
SINGAPORE CANE TO ECLIPSE'S BACK!!! She rolls off of Alaric in pain as Beer Can Man is upon her, raining down cane shot after cane shot, creating nasty red lash marks across her with each new swing! He aims at her head, and tries to finish her off, but she ducks, and fires a nasty Roundhouse Kick at BCM's head!
He tumbles back into the ropes, and she tries to follow up with a huge SPINNING ROUNDHOUSE KICK!!!
But BCM ducks it! He takes aim, and slams the Singapore Cane HARD right into the temple of Eclipse!!!
She hits the mat, and he covers her!
Cal Elton: ONE!…
TWO!…
KICKOUT!!!
Beer Can Man sits up, his mouth already around the straw of his beer hat, taking a few sips before letting out a chuckle. His demeanour is not the one of a person who believes they are in a high octane match at that moment in time.
He gets to his feet and measures Eclipse as she starts to get to her feet… he charges at the ropes, and on the rebound...
IS OBLITERATED BY A BICYCLE KICK FROM PRINCE ALBERT!!!
Eclipse is almost in shock, as BCM hits the mat hard and looks to be out cold. Herself and Albert share a look at one another, Eclipse looking shocked and on edge. She almost readies herself to be whacked by Albert too… but he doesn't. He just quickly and quietly rolls out of the ring, seemingly leaving Eclipse to her devices.
The She-Borg stands there, confused for a few moments, before she looks down at the unconscious Beer Can Man, and moves over to him to claim the pin…
BACK STABBER!!!
BACK STABBER FROM ALARIC OUT OF NOWHERE!!! Eclipse clutches her back, and Alaric catches her as she falls, rolling her into a CRUCIFIX PIN!!!
Cal Elton: ONE!…
TWO…
THREE!
Alaric takes it! The bell rings, and Alaric's music kicks off, signifying that this time, the ACTUAL winner has been crowned! He looks beside himself, in disbelief, but overjoyed with his win, taking to the turnbuckle and raising his arms up high, soaking in the lack of adoration from the crowd. But he cares none, his first victory in AWF has been claimed, and he's done it all on his own merit!
He doesn't notice Albert, slowly moving up the ramp, blissfully unaware that he owes his win to him. And on this, we fade out.
Alaric Dracislav def. Eclipse, & Beer Can Man in 1:12
Fade into a scene.
Outside of a night club a group of achingly trendy, attractive twenty somethings reach the front of the line and the bouncer gives them a brief glare before shaking his head.
Hip Young Guy
What bro? Have you seen how young and hip I am? Have you seen how I've shaved my beard into an incredibly thin strip of hair for some reason!? What sort of club is this?
Bouncer
Get with the times, grandpa.
Hip Young Guy
Wh-? Grandpa?
The hip young guy looks down at his hands and sees they are haggard and wrinkly.
He turns to look his hip, sexy friends and instead all of their faces are sunken pits of ancient, crumbling husks. Their cheek bones collapse in on their faces as they crumble into dust and bones on the floor.
Hip Young Guy
What? No! I only didn't keep up with the trends for one week, I've been trendy for so long, please, I can be cool agai-
And with that the hip young crumbles into dust and bones.
Ruxx Rampede Narration
Don't be like this lame motherfucker.
The bouncer opens the door for the camera and it goes, in revealing a heaving club of fun and debauchery. DMX bangs out of the speakers and the bartenders prioritise serving people over chatting to each other. People who don't do that are cunts, right?
Every single one of the partying people are wearing eyepatches with Black Clyde's logo on them.
Ruxx Rampede Narration
So get ya own Black Clyde authentic eyepatch so you don't become an obsolete bitch in the eyes of the universe you dusty motherfuckers.
Ruxx Rampede Narration
We have collaborated with Gucci to make this Black Clyde eye patch. You too can be cool for the price of 7,000,000 dollars. But also you can't put a price on cool. You got the motherfucker or you don't.
With that, onto the stage walks Black Clyde, wearing a purple suit, top hat and sunglasses with a huge grin. As they see him, every woman in the club orgasms and some nearby aeroplanes coincidentally fall out of the sky.
Black Clyde
Hahaha! I have had my eye burned out but have turned a positive into a negative and am fine with the situation. Nothing about this bothers me!
CUT TO
Black Clyde's gym is closing after a long day of iron pumping. He has a dumbbell in his left hand. He flicks the switch to turn off one half of the lights. One of his employees has the keys.
Gym Employee
You lockin' up tonight, Clyde Bro?
Black Clyde
Yeah, good hustle, pass me the keys.
The employee tosses the keys to Clyde, who reaches out to catch them much too early and they hit him in the face.
Gym Employee
Shit!
Black Clyde
It's fine.
Gym Employee
Bro I'm sorry, I-
Black Clyde
It's fine! Go home.
The employee turns to leave, hesitates, then exits the gym.
Clyde is left in the half lit gym with Sussane and the sexy young woman by his side suddenly.
Sussane
What's the matter Black Clyde? I thought you were fine with losing your eye, you used all that money you got from selling eyepatches to get a solid gold replica of your own arms. I've never seen you so happy.
Black Clyde
Possessions are a bandaid, not a cure.
Sexy Young Woman
You made me cum so hard I almost remembered my name, Black. You're still the most shredded love machine in my life.
Clyde goes to put the dumbbell back on the rack and accidentally smashes it through the wall mirror. Luckily there is a second wall mirror directly behind it.
Black Clyde
God motherfuckin' dammit!
He punches a hole through the secondary mirror.
Sussanne
Oh Clyde, I hate seeing you like this, but I know you can do anything.
Black Clyde
Get outta here Sussanne, those coyotes won't chase themselves.
Sussanne
I can see you need some time to yourself, and I was planning on leaving my husband tonight.
Sussanne leaves the sexy young woman looks at Clyde.
Sexy Young Woman
Damn, Black Clyde, even hearing a woman leaving her husband didn't make you smile.
Black Clyde
I got maimed by a boy who has an unhealthy problem with carbohydrates. I'd have to break up every marriage in the land to even think about smiling. Get outta here, sexy young bitch.
Sexy Young Woman
But where will I go? I live here.
Black Clyde
God dammit hoe have I taught you nothing? Sussanne's husband is about to be freshly divorced. Go sleep with that man.
Sexy Young Woman
You're right, I've been taught well.
She pats his rock hard shoulder before leaving the gym.
Sexy Young Woman (O.S.)
Sussanne, wait up! We're going to the same place!
Black Clyde briefly fiddles with his eyepatch.
Black Clyde
I know I'd crush that body dysmoprhic fuck's head between my biceps if only I could perceive depth. I can't even understand FKA Twigs lyrics anymore. Who the fuck am I talking to....
Black Clyde half heartedly throws a power rack across the gym into the unlit, dark half. There's a thud, and a strange but familiar voice squeals in pain.
Black Clyde
Who the fuck…
Black Clyde looks into the darkness of the gym. He hears footsteps as something walks towards him out of the darkness. The footsteps suddenly stop. Black Clyde tenses and looks around.
Snivley
Down here.
Black Clyde looks down to see Snivley is stood right up against his legs looking up at him. Instinctively in the shock Black Clyde kicks him sending him zooming across the room.
Black Clyde
You got 10 seconds before I turn your grey ass to paste..
Snivley gets up and plods over to him, his hands raised. Another voice comes from the darkness. The voice has the strongest most exaggerated German accent imaginable.
I assure you Herr Clyde, you have nothing to fear from us.
Black Clyde
Nah, I ain't getting mixed up in whatever weird shit this is. Tell Boneman to fuck off.
Snivley
He wants peace.
Black Clyde looks at him suspiciously.
My small 'friend' here speaks zhe truth. Zhere has been so much bad blood since your little, misunderstanding
Black Clyde
He locked me in a dungeon!
Vere I'm from, Zhat would be considered a generosity.
Snivley
We have a gift.
Black Clyde still looks very suspicious.
Black Clyde
What?
Out of the shadows steps the mystery figure. A tall blond man in a tight black leather long coat. Across his eye is a large scar. He has a wooden box in hand. His fingers long and boney. Their movements precise and deliberate. He opens the lit to reveal a robotic eye sat on a little red cushion.
Me name is Dr Stefan Camer, and I specialise in helping people recover vhat has been taken from zhem.
Black Clyde
Nah, I ain't buying this bullshit
Dr Stefan Camer
I assure you Herr Clyde, zhis is very real.
Snivley
The master of mischief wants to make things even.
Black Clyde starts to walk away from the pair.
Black Clyde
I ain't playing his games, besides, if he wants to make things even, why ain't he here himself.
Snivley
There was an incident. But he sent me, and this very expensive and legal doctor.
Dr Stefan Camer
I have no desire to trick you Herr Cylde, I was paid to help you, and I vill.
Black Clyde feels his eye patch and looks into the broken mirror to his side. Thanks to the breaks in the mirror the broken and refracted reflection makes it look like he has both eyes, till he moves slightly and his eye patch reappears.
Black Clyde
Whats the catch?
Snivley starts running in circles excited, Clyde looks angry.
Dr Stefan Camer
Ignore him, zhis is between us now. Zhere is no catch. You vill have your sight back.
He winks.
Dr Stefan Camer
And a little more. You have a perfect body Herr Clyde, let me help you become more than perfect.
CUT TO
Black Clyde is lying down on a hospital bed. The room around him is dark except for one bright light beating down on him. Dr Stefan Camer walks over in full hospital scrubs.
Black Clyde
Just make it fast.
Dr Stefan injects a needle into the side of Black Clyde's neck. Immediately Black Clyde starts growing weary.
Dr Stefan Camer
I'm afraid it's a rather long and messy procedure. Try not to wake up, I imagine it would be, painful.
Black Clyde closes his eye and falls asleep. The last thing he sees is Doctor Stefan Camer looking down at him with a large drill in hand.
Fade out.
That shows up on screen. José Figueiras comes out and everybody goes bananas.
José Figueiras
I turned Roderick Kross into a car.
Fade out.
Fade into another scene.
The Day Before PrimeTime VIII
Trent and Chuck are walking through an indoor shopping mall. They are ogling various window items.
Chuck
Wait, so why isn't OC here?
Trent
(stuffing a Cinnabon in his face)
I don't know
(chewing)
Something about an old man giving him a weird version of an RKO or something.
The two shrug it off and keep going.
Chuck
Wait so...why are we here?
Trent
I told you, here to pick up women. All the local riff raff-I mean nice women come to the indoor shopping mall during the middle of the week. Mostly moms.
Chuck
Yeah okay..so what if I don't want to do that?
Trent lets out a sigh rocking his head back. He reaches deep into his pockets and pulls out a folded up twenty dollar bill and hands it to Chuck.
Trent
Here, go to the arcade or something. I'll meet you there later.
Chuck runs off giggling.
Trent
Don't waste it all on the crane game! You know those are rigged!
Trent, adjusts his shoulders and his jacket. He slicks his hair back, wets his thumb and finger and glides them smoothly across his perfectly trimmed eyebrows.
Trent
Alright, where to, where to, first.
Trent surveys the stores around him. At one end is a Forever 21
Trent
Too young
He looks at a Marie Calendars
Trent
Too old
He pans over to SEARS
Trent
Too many dads
His eyes land on a Baby Gap
Trent
Just right..
With a getup in his step, he bops over to the Baby Gap, and enters. Walking through the mini isles, pretending to look at things hanging on shelves, while peaking around for prospects, he notices a young woman pushing a baby in a cart. Trent sneakily picks up a piece of clothing, holding it in front of his face and bum rushes right into the woman's cart with her baby in it causing the kid to burst into tears
Trent
Oh my god, I'm so sorry!
MILF
(Picking up her child to comfort them)
Shhh shh it's okay.
(Shooting a look at Trent)
It's okay. You find what you're looking for?
Trent
Ah yes, found what I came for, this…
(realizing what he's holding)
I love my mommy baby romper…
MILF
Oh so, there is a Mrs Walks into Strangers?
Trent
No, of course not.
(Talking really fast)
I mean not of course not like I shouldn't be married, I just mean I'm not here for myself, this isn't for me it's for somebody else..My uh...sister! Yes, my sister's baby shower, is why I am shopping here today right now and ran into you, on this day, here today, at this Gap for Babies.
MILF
Awe that's so cute! I know what it's like to do this on my own.
Trent looks up to the heavens giving a "yessss" look, before snapping back to the conversation.
Trent
I'm Greg by the way. So, all on your own you say?
MILF
Well I have some help, my dad is always helping me out, even if I want it or not. You know how parents are
(she giggles)
Trent
Oh yeah parents are great. I love my mommy, I mean mom. Mother. I love my Mother like a child should love their parent.
MILF
My dad is great too. He's actually around here somewhere. Dad?
Trent
Oh well, you don't have to do that, I'm sure he's busy..shopping?
A man with a hoarse voice calls out. From behind the mother and child walks up one, Diamond Dallas Page.
DDP
You alright hon? I heard a loud crash than you call for me, is every-
(Noticing Trent)
It's you. What? First you take my belt now you want my grandchild? What else do you want from me?
Trent
Whaaat? No, that's crazy. I don't want your grand child I just want your daughter…
DDP cocks his head to the side at the sound of the possible serial killer.
Trent
Wait, that's not what I meant
Trent slowly backs away as DDP comes forward
Trent
I was just walking through, and I noticed your daughter and I thought…
DDP
You thought what?
Trent, at a loss for words, throws stuff off the shelves and takes off out of the store. He sprints down the mall pushing people aside as other give him space. He turns to see nobody behind him, and slows down to a light jog. Before he can turn his head back forward he crashes into a large man almost knocking himself out. As he lay on the floor his vision clears up and looks upwards at a scarred man with a handlebar mustache.
Jake Roberts
I should have snapped you like a twig when I had the chance boy
Trent jumps to his feet and screams for Chuck who is nowhere near. Trent continues to run down the mall screaming for Chuck, he runs right by the arcade without noticing.
Inside the arcade is Chuck who's feeding quarters in a crane game for prizes. He slowly moves the stick over a white teddy bear holding a heart.
Chuck
(to himself)
Oh Trent is going to love this, that'll show him. I know I'm a master at these games.
The claw slowly reaches down and grabs a hold of the bear by it's head. It makes it's way over to the corner and releases. But the bear hits the corner of the chute and falls back into the bin with the other animals. It lay motionless, like it's mocking Chuck with it's black lifeless marbles for eyes.
Chuck
(Banging on the glass)
I want the bearrrrr!
Chuck shuffles in his pockets for more tokens, but comes up empty. He searches his back pockets to no luck. Chuck hit's the floor and starts feeling around the dark undercarriage of the machine for a loose token, while panicking. While he's on the floor a man with two women walks up to the machine.
Scott Hall
Now you see ladies, the key isn't the claw itself. The key...is how you use the stick.
The girls giggle as he lowers the claw and easily grabs the bear, dropping it into the chute. As he picks up his prize, Chuck stands up.
Chuck
Hey! That was mine!
Scott Hall
You snooze you lose chico
Chuck
No!
With that Chuck tackles Scott Hall, who easily gains control of Chuck and wraps him in a headlock. While gasping for air Chuck silently screams to himself for Trent.
Back in the center of the mall Trent is running, pushing over women and children out of the way. As he slides across a corner DDP tackles him like a linebacker as the two go flying into a Wetzels Pretzel cart.
DDP
(Choking Trent with his bare hands)
You think you can get away with taking my title? Then come in a perv out on my daughter? And threaten my grandchilds life? You think you have tough competition in your ladder match? You aren't going to even make your ladder match if I have it my way.
DDP continues to choke Trent as he begins to fade. At a last ditch effort Trent reaches for DDP's nips and gives em a twist. DDP let's go of Trents neck to protect himself. Trent rushes off leaving DDP in the wreckage.
Trent finally makes his way to the arcade to find Scott Hall and Chuck tangled up. He runs up to them and begins to pry them apart.
Chuck
Trent! Trent no! The bear! Get the bear!
Trent grabs the bear from Scott Halls grasp. Chuck elbows Scott Hall in the neck and stands up free from his hold. The two run off together with the bear as their prize.
Fade to commercial.
A returning fade.
Leslie sits in the gym tapping her knees anxiously. Kolotov walks in, they both look at each other for a long moment in silence.
Kolotov
I got the part.
Leslie lets out a cheer, jumps up and runs over to him for a massive high five.
Kolotov
Hold on, they want me in for costuming soon, so if I take the gig, I’ll miss this match.
Leslie Jones
Shut up, nope, I ain’t letting you throw this away. I’ll fight solo this week.
Kolotov smiles.
Leslie Jones
It’s a four way against three folks I ain’t ever heard of. I’m Leslie motherfucking Jones; I think I’ll be ok.
They both laugh.
Kolotov
I’ll be back next week I swear.
Leslie Jones
I know K.
Kolotov
You want to get some training done now?
Leslie Jones
Yeah sure let me –
Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out and looks at the screen. Her face goes pale.
Kolotov
Leslie, you ok?
Leslie Jones
Yeah, sorry I gotta go.
Leslie hurriedly walks into one of the side room. She takes her phone out and opens it. We see a news alert on the screen. Leslie opens her phone to a live broadcast.
News reporter on phone
As the search for Micheal Chiklis continues more sad news comes out of Hollywood. Police officials have confirmed that SNL stars Pete Davidson, Kenan Thompson and Cecily Strong are now also reported missing. While unconfirmed, the police are not ruling out that these disappearances may be linked. Anyone with any information is urged to come forward.
Leslie puts the phone down. She looks out the glass window of the side room and sees Kolotov practising with a punching bag.
Annika walks out from the shadows in the side-room. Her arms are folded, she looks cold and speaks quietly and plainly.
Annika
My mother used to make me clean the gutters every day as a child, she would force me up there and make me clean for sometimes hours. I never understood why; then the storm came. They said it was a once in a lifetime event, unprecedented, I watched houses get flooded and people lose everything they held dear; I watched people die. But we survived. Because my mother knew, she could feel it coming, somewhere deep down she knew, she couldn’t stop it, but she could be ready. Consider this a friendly warning Leslie, ready your house, because a storm is coming.
A fade out on this ominous warning, into a shot of the backstage arena.
José Figueiras walks into people talking bullshit
Person 1
Not just instant ramen
Specifically cupped instant ramen
the comparison, I mean
there's a difference
I'll take Cup Noodles over a Ramen packet any day
Person 2
why
Person 3
Yeah why
Person 1
I just think the flavor is better kept in the cup. I'm presuming this is because the noodles sit in the seasoning once packaged and that
Whereas with packets you have to add the seasoning in the cooking process
As such, the noodles have marinated in their seasonings
Thus: a more flavorful snack
Person 4
If you're eating it plain i understand
but if i try to jazz it up the packet is easier
José Figueiras
DID SOMEBODY SAY JAZZ?
José Figueiras pulls out a massive speaker from his back pocket and plays this:
Crossfade to the arena where Shinsuke Nakamura is already mid-entrance for this fatal four way, the broadcast fading into the arena just at the right time to catch his ring entry and usual dramatic pose.
A healthy pop resonates as Chris Hero’s music begins, it growing when he actually appears on the stage. As always, he offers up an elbow pose --
AND HE’S SUDDENLY ROLLING DOWN THE RAMP AFTER BEING CLOBBERED IN THE BACK!
BY LESLIE JONES! THE CAMERA CUTS TO SHOW HER!
The crowd can’t help but support the presence of the Saturday Night Live! and Hawaii Bone-O star, even as she stalks the rolling body closely behind. Hero attempts to get up halfway, only for her stiff gutkick to send him rolling all the way to the end. A reckless right hand cracks the jaw of Hero, on all fours in his second get up.
Cut to Shinsuke Nakamura, inside the ring, who is casually watching the ordeal whilst leaning on some ropes.
Cut back to Leslie Jones, who now has Hero up in a delayed scoop -- SLAM! Just on the barricade right outside the ring.
Cut to Shinsuke who shrugs, then suddenly his eyes go wide!
Cut back to Leslie, with TRENT BERETTA RUNNING FROM BEHIND! DOUBLE HANDED BULLDOG ON THE OUTSIDE!
The crowd goes ballistic, especially as Beretta stands to his feet with a taunt for the crowd. But a baseball slide to the dome drops him as fast as he made an impact!
Shinsuke is the assailant, who continues his slide out of the ring, to lay in a foot kick to the face of each of his three downed opponents. He continues his attack on Trent, pulling him by the hair and into the steel steps! They don’t break apart but move from their steady position on the impact! Beretta sits against them and becomes the target as Nakamura lifts Hero and tosses him into his body!
BUT LESLIE REFUSES TO BECOME A THIRD TARGET, GRABBING NAKAMURA BY THE THROAT SOON AS HE TURNS TOWARD HER!
SHE’S ON ONE LEG BUT AS SHE LIFTS HERSELF UP, TOO DOES SHE HAVE THE KING OF STRONG STYLE!
AND TALK ABOUT STRONG, THE WAY SHE CHOKESLAMS HIM AGAINST THE SIDE OF THE APRON!
BRUTALITY ON SHOWCASE, SHE DOESN’T LET HIS BODY FULLY SLINK, JUST TO CHOKESLAM ON THE ARENA FLOOR!
With nothing but bodies down around her, Leslie hollers out a beastial like shriek and the crowd bloody eats it up.
One by one -- first Shinsuke, then Chris, then Trent, she rolls everyone into the ring before entering it herself.
Ding!
Beretta’s the first nearly to his feet, but Leslie is off the ropes and drops him with a Bradshaw-like Clothesline from Hell! Almost on cue, Hero has pulled himself up via the ropes, only to be caught with a big boot to the side of the face that sends him between the top and middle ropes to the outside! Nakamura somehow has gotten his feet and to a charge -- just to have that back blasted again with the catching, swinging STO!
Yet again, Leslie is the only one standing and so one more shriek emanates. Trent’s the first back up, again, and this time he’s off the ropes behind her and coming back with another double handed bulldog -- but she catches it and him in a back suplex position!
She keeps hold of him hoisted up, charging toward the ropes so as to throw him out of the ring viciously!
BUT HE SPINS IT AROUND! INVERTED TILT-A-WHIRL DDT ON LESLIE JONES!
Her body rolls to the other side of the ring and nearly out --
UNTIL CHRIS HERO STRIKES HER IN THE FACE WITH ONE OF HIS DEVASTATING ELBOWS!
Her body lays now diagonal to the nearest set of buckles as Shinsuke has managed his way up, and Beretta allows for him to climb the second rope nearest her -- KNEE DROP TO THE FACE!
Jim Ross: LESLIE JONES IS DOWN! LESLIE JONES IS DOWN! LESLIE JONES IS DOWN!
As Nakamura rises, Beretta stops the waiting and runs in for a dropkick to the face that connects and pushes him into the corner! Noticing Chris’ rise onto the apron, Trent is off the set of ropes perpendicular (alternate interior angle) into a beautiful triangle dropkick to the mush!
By now, Shinsuke has risen back to his feet and Beretta is there to whip him -- but it’s turned around -- just to be turned around again -- then turned around again but this time Nakamura changes the momentum to send Trent into the buckle just left!
Immediately upon hitting the buckle with his belt is Beretta met with a running, rising knee to the face! Leslie is on her knees - KINSHASA! WHAT A KNEE TO THE FACE! KNEES AND DROPKICKS JUST FLYING ALL OVER THIS PIECE!
Turning his attention back to Beretta -- the drop toe hold sends Nakamura face first into the middle buckle! Trent backs away only to return: BRONCO BUSTER! AN INVERTED VERSION WITH SHINSUKE’S POSITIONING BUT IT ARGUABLY DOES MORE DAMAGE THIS WAY!
Nakamura proper dazed from the clipping of the back of his neck, Beretta has enough time to place him on top of the top rope, facing inside the ring. Would you look at this -- a superplex set up!
All seems to be going Trent’s way!
The arms where they need to be!
A grip of the tights!
But a punch to the gut halts the process! An even stiffer blow collides with the ribs, and with Beretta’s history here in AWF he has to recoil on this one! A headbutt nearly sends Trent flying off the second rope, but somehow he’s managed to grab the top rope in his grog!
Chris Hero! From behind, does he come to meet them, climbing the second rope but from the outside! A punch to the back sends Shinsuke right into the returning headbutt from Trent, whose grog is only worse afterwards! Shinsuke pushes him! There Beretta goes!
Back elbow to Chris Hero -- no -- do you know who you’re talking about?! Seeing it coming, Hero is just able to duck his head underneath the attacking arm, and with a certain haste--
HE GRABS HIM BY THE WAIST!
AND HE TAKES HIM!
TAKES HIM?!
HE TAKES HIM!
BACK SUPERPLEX TO THE OUTSIDE!
GOD THE BUMP SHINSUKE TAKES! THE MIDDLE OF HIS BACK CRACKING ACROSS THE TOP OF THE BARRICADE, AND HE FALLS BACKWARD ON HIS NECK INTO THE CROWD!
HERO’S TAKEN A HELL OF A BACK BUMP OF HIS OWN ON THE OUTSIDE, HIS EYES WIDE AS HE LOOKS AROUND LIKELY NOT EVEN THERE, GASPING FOR THE AIR HE’S JUST LOST!
There’s not quite any actual awareness in Trent’s eyes as he rises to his feet, but there’s plenty in Leslie’s who grabs him in a double choke grip! Over the top rope!
NO! Trent catches the top rope with both hands, just enough to bring him to a standing position on the outside apron!
Beretta catches her with a shoulder block off her first charge, so she instead leads with a size twelve boot (men’s U.S. size too, this woman got some feet on her I’ll tell ya that) but he moves out the way!
She’s caught up on the top rope, and she just can’t seem to get free! Trent wastes no time, climbing to the top rope --
DIVING CLOTHESLINE TO THE INSIDE, TAKING BOTH TO THE MAT!
Cut to Chris Hero on the outside, rolling from his back to his stomach to his back to his stomach all in order to get to the barricade.
Cut to Shinsuke, face-down on the concrete between the sets of fan seating.
Cut to inside the ring, with Leslie Jones being wailed on as with every landed blow does she rise like a defiant demon -- kick to the gut! She’s pushed Trent back, but he kicks HER in the gut in response -- puts her under his legs --
HE’S SETTING UP FOR THAT CRADLE PILEDRIVER!
NO SHE THROWS HIM UP INTO A BACK BODY DROP!
Hero’s on the apron now! Into the ring, he finally succeeds!
RIGHT INTO LESLIE’S GRASP BEFORE ANYTHING CAN BE DONE!
QUICK SNAP!
SATURDAY NIGHTMARE LIVE!
THE FINISHING MANEUVER!
BUT TRENT BERETTA TAKES FAST ADVANTAGE -- DUDEBUSTER! THE CRADLE PILVEDRIVER!
LESLIE BODY BOUNDS UP INTO THE ROPES, SO TRENT COVERS HERO!
Sandra Yandel: ONE!.......
TWO!.....
THREE!
DING DING DING
This time, only Trent Beretta is on his feet, who lets out a hype scream of his own as a reaction to the victory. Proudly does Trent allow Sandra Yandel to raise his arms high over their heads.
Mark Beverly: The winner of this match, TRRRRRENT! BERETTTTAAAAA!
Yet again Trent finds himself on a second rope, but this time to celebrate his win.
Cut to Chuck Taylor running down the ramp, sliding into the ring, and backing into the turnbuckle diagonal. Trent turns after descending from the rope to notice his best friend. Telepathically they click right away, stretching their hands out before meeting in the middle of the ring for a brotherly hug.
Fade out on this moment.
Trent Beretta d. Chris Hero, Shinsuke Nakamura, and Leslie Jones in 7:35
An eerie fade in.
Priscilla's throne has been dragged across the room to where it currently sits on the balcony, looking out across lush fields and meadows. She sits there, covered in bandages and plasters, looking slightly worse for wear after her tough match with the Handicapped Hero Max Ironside, as she takes a drag from her JPS Crushball cigarette. She blows a whispy trail of smoke out into the air above her, watching it dissaperate into the blue sky above.
Priscilla Kelly
Lovely day to go out on, isn't it Cranston?
One of Priscilla Kelly's bigger guards, Cranston, stands behind her, gimp suited up, also covered in bandages. Next to him, stands the comparably smaller Gabe.
Cranston
Yes Mistress Kelly… that is if this works-
Priscilla Kelly
Why wouldn't it work?
Cranston
It will! It will! Of course it will!
Priscilla Kelly
You sent them to the right address, right?
Cranston
Yep. Got the address on it perfect.
Priscilla Kelly
Did you run it through another guy first, Cranston? I don't trust your mental state right now. You got whacked over that noggin quite a few times with a crowbar last week,
Gabe
And you're still nursing that concussion from when Homunculus threw you through our window at the Bash.
Priscilla Kelly
Gabe's right, you are.
Cranston
I uhh- I'm telling you Mistress Kelly, I got it right.
Priscilla Kelly
It better be Cranston. Or I will Fargo your ass into a woodchipper, I mean it.
The door to the room opens up, and in floods the very very large S2, smile on his face, alongside a rather bemused Bill Buttertoes. S2 moves over to her with a rather large lidded bucket in hand, propping it down next to Priscilla, the liquid inside sloshing around. Cranston raises an eyebrow.
Cranston
What's in there?
Priscilla Kelly
Something interesting. It works right? This is the stuff S2?
S2
That is the stuff. Trust me, it works. Like nothing you've seen.
Priscilla grins a wide grin.
Priscilla Kelly
Awesome. Well, this is a real game changer then.
S2
Sure is. Buttertoes got his package too.
Bill unveils a Police Officer's uniform, looking quite confused.
Priscilla Kelly
What am I doing with this?
Priscilla Kelly
Wearing it, obviously. I'll run you through the plan in a second, just let me finish my smoke.
S2
Let her finish her damn smoke, Buttertoes.
Kelly looks back out at the blue sky, her smile ever-present as she blows more smoke into the air.
Priscilla Kelly
Trust me boys, this is my funnest plan yet. But it all counts on Cranston getting that fucking address right. 52 March Street, Cranston! 52 fucking March Street!
CUT TO
52 March Street.
A mailman passes by the very door to that house, slotting a small flyer through the letterbox. From inside, layed on a bed, is an also battered looking Max Ironside. He too is covered in bandages and bruises, but unlike Priscilla Kelly, no smile is to be found on Max's face, nothing even close.
On TV, the adverts switch onto the next programme, the intro to Hawaii Bone-O. Ironside grunts, before switching the channel over, onto an old re-run of Wizards of Waverly Place. He gives in, too depressed to keep looking, and submits to whatever this classic Disney show can throw at him.
Through the house, an equally grey and tired out Rayna Ironside shuffles along in her slippers, over to the door where the flyer has been posted. She looks over at her husband, layed on the bed.
Rayna Ironside
Expecting any Post honey?
Max Ironside
Don't think so.
Rayna sighs, as her sad eyes rest on her husband for a few moments more. She finally peers down to the flyer and picks it up, her eyes scanning the whole thing, and her heart dropping as she does so.
Rayna Ironside
Oh god! Oh no!
Max Ironside
What?
Rayna Ironside
What!? WHAT IS THIS!? THAT BITCH!!!
Rayna runs over to Max, showing him the flyer, and his eyes turn as wide and upset as hers. On the flyer, is the image of herself having the tampon forced into her mouth by Priscilla Kelly, whilst Max just watches on. A speech bubble has been imposed coming from her head, saying 'mmmmm yummy yummy' and another speech bubble from Max reading 'eat it like the dog you are'. Below is the text 'Who's the real coward? The Ironsides have just let this happen to them without a fight! Maybe they secretly enjoyed it! Yes people! These are your neighbours! Sex fiends! Do you want them near your children!? They'll feast on their tampons!'
Rayna Ironside
'These are your neighbours'!? What!?
Rayna charges to the front door of the house, bursting it open to see the very same mailman delivering these flyers to all the houses down the block. Rayna shouts at him, enraged.
Rayna Ironside
What're you doing!?!?
Mailman
Umm- my job?
Rayna Ironside
You can't deliver this shit!? Have you seen what's on it!?
Mailman
I've seen the bills it pays for.
Rayna Ironside
Mother fucker!
Rayna slams the door shut, having gone a beet red, her veins pulsing. Ironside lays on his bed, not looking angry, just more defeated. He slumps even further into his position on his bed.
Rayna Ironside
We need to do something about that bitch! She's laughing at us!
Max Ironside
Just forget about her Rayna.
Rayna Ironside
No Max! Just because you've given up it doesn't mean I have! We can't let her win!
Max Ironside
She sent this to get a rise out of us Rayna!
Rayna Ironside
And it's worked! But she doesn't expect us to fucking act on it! She taunts us from her fancy schmancy mansion, but I bet she'll be fucking terrified if we actually storm over there and do something about it!
Max Ironside
Rayna-
Rayna Ironside
She shoved a tampon in my fucking mouth Max! She made a mockery of me! Of both of us! And now all our neighbours children think we're going to eat their tampons too!
Max Ironside
Rayna! Please! Let's just put those thoughts to one side! We can beat this anger, cos she wants us to rise, and overcoming the anger will be WAY more insulting to her than succumbing to it! This is only fun for her if she knows it's hurt us! Just, let's relax baby! Come on!
Max holds out his arms for a hug. Rayna stands there for a few seconds, looking furious, before her breaths get more and more controlled, and she lets herself fall into Max's outstretched arms. The pair hug each other tightly, and Rayna cries.
Rayna Ironside
I love you so much.
Max Ironside
I love you too Rayna, more than anything. More than anything. And listen, we've got each other. No matter what, we have each other. Okay?
Rayna nods.
Rayna Ironside
Okay.
Max lets his glance move back over to the TV. Alex Russo does a spell on her brother Max, turning him into a clam. Maybe that's in an episode of Wizards of Waverly Place, who knows? It is in this universe. He gives a small smile up to Rayna.
Max Ironside
I might have a nap.
Rayna Ironside
Good, yeah, you have a nap honey. You need one. You look awful.
Max Ironside
Thanks.
Rayna and Max chuckle, as she puts the blanket over him. She sits there with him for a few minutes, watching the TV and stroking her husband, until his snores are apparent. Rayna gets up and starts to move out of the room, until she notices the flyer again. She picks it up and scrunches it up, moving over to the bin ready to throw it inside.
But just before she does, she finds herself unfolding it again and looking at it.
She sees the image of herself being forced to eat the tampon, and that fury just returns. She looks over to the bedroom, where her snoring husband lay, and she knows he's out for the count. He won't notice if she's gone. Letting the flyer drop to the floor, Rayna puts on some boots and a coat, before making sure to grab a baseball bat from the garage on her way over to her car.
And she drives off down the road, her mission set. Next stop, the mansion of Priscilla Kelly.
Fade out.
Fade in. On the screen:
Fade out.
Fade into a scene.
Footsteps clack down the hallway, as a rather overworked looking Maeve Shiliko moves through the halls of Priscilla Kelly's mansion, clipboard hugged tightly to her chest. In under 2 minutes, she was to have a meeting with her least favourite member of staff under the payroll of Priscilla Kelly, none other than 'The Scientist' S2. The meeting itself wasn't a problem, Priscilla had given S2 the responsibility of hiring new security staff, as to ensure no more break ins could happen at the mansion like Lt. Andorra and Phil Goode had done, and S2 was set to run down these new hirees to Maeve.
Priscilla, it turns out, was busy, she'd decided to take a rather mournful Prince Albert to Jeff Hardy's funeral in what Maeve thought was a nice act. It was clear Priscilla did care about her staff, she just had a very unusual way of showing it. Regardless, this meant the meeting was down to Maeve to attend in Priscilla's place, and she was ready to expect any sexist, racist, or generally crude remarks thrown her way by S2.
Beefton
Well howdy there ma'am!
Maeve
Oh fuck.
Maeve turns to see Beefton strutting over to her, gigantic cheesy smile on his face.
Beefton
If it isn't my favourite gal this side of our green and blue earth, Baeve. Get it, it's bae, and Maeve, mixed together. Cos you Maeve, are my bae.
Maeve
Beefton I can't chat right now, I've got a meeting.
Beefton
That's alright, I'll treat this conversation like I do sex, and make it quick.
Maeve
How do you ever pull anybody? Even if I ever was interested in you, you would've definitely put me off by now.
Beefton
Well, you said there's no point in hoping for any of that sort of thing between you and me anyway, and whilst that did make me cry, a lot, because I think I am in love with you, I respect your decision. We're friends, and let me tell you, the Beefbuster can be a friend as good as he can be a lover.
Maeve seems a little taken aback by Beefton's confession there, but with how casually he spoke about the whole thing, she feels able to dip past it.
Maeve
Okay. Cool. We're friends then.
Beefton
We're friends, just going on a friend date.
Maeve
Oh, yeah…
Beefton
Thought about where you wanna go yet? It's been a while is all, and I've not wanted to be pushy but, damn am I excited! My uncle suggested bowling? How's that make you feel? Bowling? Getting the ol' juices flowing?
Maeve
Bowling? What, no, I don't really- I've never been bowling?
Beefton
So you never known, you could like it? Could chip in and get you some shoes if that's the issue? I'm imagining it now, we could do that cute thing in all the movies, where you don't know how to bowl, and I have to come over and kinda put my hands on yours and guide you how to do it, but then after you bowl, our hands stay touching, and we lean in close, and-
Maeve
Beefton. Friends.
Beefton
Starring David Schwimmer. Got it! Just friends!
Maeve
I'll think about the bowling Beefton, I'm not gonna lie, I've not had much time to think about it. This job is hectic, I'm running around doing shit for everyone, there's so many jobs for Priscilla, and now I've got to have a meeting with that jack ass S2. I hate being alone in a room with that guy, he creeps me out.
Beefton
Well, I could sit in there with you?
Maeve
Aren't you supposed to be guarding the door?
Beefton
I'm on my lunch break.
Maeve
Then take your lunch break! I'm not gonna make you spend it with me.
Beefton
Woah! Spending my lunch break with you is the best way to spend my lunch break! The only nourishment I need is to breath in the air surrounding the most beautiful ladybabe I've ever witnessed. You ever heard that term? Ladybabe? It's how Australian men refer to women.
Maeve
I don't know if that's true, but I really just don't know about Australian culture, so I guess it could be.
Maeve stands there, looking at Beefton. She sighs.
Maeve
Okay, yeah spend your lunch break with me if you like. I'd really rather have the company when talking to that big bag of shit. So, thanks, I guess.
Beefton
Don't thank me, thank your eyes, for being so damn pretty.
Maeve
Okay Beefton make sure to keep it quiet during the meeting though okay.
Beefton
Yeah alright.
CUT TO
Maeve is sat at a small desk in the middle of the dark room, Beefton off to the side sat on his own desk chair, swinging himself backwards on it and then catching himself last moment. S2 stands at the front, next to a powerpoint presentation on a board next to him, looking quizzically from Maeve to Beefton. Irritation plays on his face, he was clearly hoping to have Maeve alone.
S2
I get why Priscilla wanted you here, but what's Beef Boy doing?
Beefton
Just vibing.
Maeve
That's none of your business S2. You're here to tell me about the new hires, not quiz me about who should and shouldn't be in the meeting.
S2
Fine.
S2 mutters under his breath.
S2
Fucking bitch telling me what to do.
He clicks a remote, and the presentation begins.
S2
So, Priscilla wanted to upgrade her Security Staff, she came to the right guy. I've hired four of the top people you can find in the country, and out of it. These four won't just stop people breaking in, but they'll make it so people won't even be able to have the thought of infiltrating this place without shaking in their boots, and filling whatever room they're in with their terrified sweating.
Beefton
What if they're outside?
S2
Then… I don't know, they'll make a big ass fucking puddle. Alright?
Beefton nods. He tries to imagine the biggest puddle he can think of, but it starts to become too big a thought for him to process, so he has to abandon it.
S2
Up first, we have this intense mother fucker.
S2
Russian dude named Bol'shoy. You see that gaze of his, not a spec of emotion in it right? That's cos this scary fuck doesn't feel emotion. He doesn't know what it is. Since birth, he's never felt pain, mental, or physical. You can have WALTER chop this mother fucker across the chest 50 times in a row, and no matter how much skin flakes off of his pecs, you won't see a hint of pain in his eyes! And guess what! Now, he's under our payroll baby.
Maeve raises her eyebrows at the intense and worrying presentation just brought to her, and specifically at the image which appeared to be a mugshot. She turns to Beefton for back up, but he clearly hasn't listened, having opened a small bag of Haribo Tangfastics. He puts one in his mouth, and his whole face curls up as he clearly finds it too sour.
Beefton
Oh fuck! That's hot!
He fans at his mouth. Maeve sighs and shakes her head, before turning to look back at S2. He is clicked onto the next slide, and another mugshot greets her eyes.
S2
Now this guy, with his muscles on top of muscles on top of muscles, is Tusk Baby. He does body guard and mercenary work as a side hustle, so he can make enough money to go on Safari retreats every summer.
Maeve
Oh, well, that's sort of nice-
S2
So he can illegally wrestle and murder Elephants.
Maeve
What?!? Why!?!
S2
Loves it. It's his favourite sport. With his bare hands, he charges the jungles, and will just slaughter Elephants by the hundreds. You see this shit?
S2 clicks on to a slide showing an article headline:
S2
Yeah. Guess who? I'll tell you who, the guy who's now under our payroll baby.
Maeve looks disgusted, as S2 clicks onto the next slide.
S2
This fucking dude, is tall. 7 foot 3 inches. Call him Sidewalk, wanna know why?
Maeve
I feel like you're gonna tell us anywa-
Beefton
Yeah!
S2
This dude has a history of murders, he has a kill count, let me tell ya'! Method of kill, you ask? Sidewalk Slam! This dude hits mother fuckers with a Sidewalk Slam so devastating, it ends their lives. Gives new meaning to the word 'Finisher'. You get me?
Beefton
I actually do get you.
Beefton seems proud of himself.
S2
And now Sidewalk, and his Sidewalk Slams… under our payroll baby.
S2 clicks the next slide.
S2
Oooooooh shit!
Beefton
Ooooooooooh shiiiiiit!
S2
You know who this is Beefton?
Beefton
I don't, sorry, you just got me excited.
S2
Well trust me, you will. This, is the mad German, Helmuta Kruel. Oh fuck! What she lacks in good looks, she makes up for… in being a bad bitch.
S2 points at her mouth.
S2
See these gnashers?
Maeve
Not really she has her mouth closed.
S2
They have tasted… human flesh!
Maeve
What!?
S2
That's right! Helmuta Kruel isn't just any old bodybuilding babe, it's said she gets her strength from eating… CHILDREN! That's right mother fuckers! CANNIBAL ALERT!!!
S2 pulls out an airhorn and blasts it a few times over.
S2
And guess what, this ain't just any old Cannibal… this Cannibal in-particular… is under our fucking payroll BAY-BAY!!!
S2 keeps blasting the airhorn as he dances. Maeve is up on her feet, grabs the airhorn, and tosses it across the room.
Maeve
What the fuck is wrong with you S2!?
S2
What!?
Maeve
You were asked to hire security, not fucking top level criminals! Cannibals, murderers, the only one who actually seems alright is the first guy, but even then he's a little intense with the no pain and emotion thing!
S2
Oh and he killed his whole family.
Maeve
S2!!! Why would you hire these people?
S2
Priscilla said it was a necessity they had a criminal record. I wanted to hire the scariest mother fuckers I could find, to really make sure no one was breaking into this mansion!
Maeve looks up at the board, at Helmuta Kruel, her intense and evil gaze glaring back down at her. This was to become her new co-worker. Maeve felt sick.
Maeve
Holy fuck. I don't know what to say.
S2
That's alright, cos as usual, your ass is doing all the talking.
And with that, S2 slaps Maeve on the ass. Maeve stiffens up, eyes wide, looking up at S2 who smiles down at her.
Maeve
What is wrong with you!?!
S2
Aww you wanted that shit-
S2 feels himself pushed backwards, his back hitting hard against the wall, as there, suddenly between Maeve and the Scientist, stands an incensed looking Beefton.
Beefton
That's not cool shit, bro. You don't slap a woman's ass like that unless she wants you to, no matter how luscious and beautiful and round and gorgeous and supple and thick and tight and… oh wow…
As he's been speaking, Beefton's eyes have moved from S2 to rest on the ass of Maeve. She looks up at him in disbelief.
Maeve
Beefton!
Beefton
Ugh, yeah! Yeah!
He snaps out of it and turns back to S2.
Beefton
Yeah! Don't do that shit.
S2 moves towards Beefton and gets in his face.
S2
I'll let you off for now Beefton, cos that chick has an affect on dudes with her voodoo Chinese magic. But I'm your boss now, and if you touch me like that again, you won't just lose your job, but when that bitch gets here…
S2 points at Helmuta Kruel.
S2
I'll fucking feed you to her.
He smiles and pats Beefton on the shoulder, before shoulder barging past him and out of the room. Beefton looks a little red, as he gulps and turns to Maeve, breathing a shaky breath. He tries to hide his nerves as he smiles.
Beefton
Woah. That was- you okay?
Maeve
Yeah. Thanks Beefton.
Beefton
No worries. I don't want some dude touching you like that, it's not cool.
Maeve nods. She looks up at Beefton, and for the first time, actually feels a shred of respect for him. She lets out a soft smile.
Maeve
We can go bowling.
Beefton
Yeah!? Really!?
Maeve
Yeah. I just need some shoes I guess.
Beefton
Oh I'll get 'em! What size are you? What's your favourite colour? Do you want like, racing stripes on them? Or Guy Fieri flames?
Maeve
I don't really care Beefton.
Beefton
I'll surprise you.
He nods, his nerves having disapperated in the place of excitement. Maeve notes the change in his attitude, and her smile turns genuine.
-
A few hours later, after a long day of work, Maeve Shiliko finally gets time to rest. She moves into her room, and quickly throws herself down on her bed, a big puff of air leaving her lungs as she can finally enjoy the comfort of her bed.
Until suddenly, she smells something, something funky.
And next to her on her bed, she feels something.
She sits up and turns, and sees there next to her, is her personalised blanket that went missing. She is on her feet quickly, picking it up, but drops it almost as fast as she realises that is what smells. She drops it on her floor, and it uncrumples, unravelling to reveal the mess it's been left in.
Her beautiful, personalised blanket, one of her favourite possessions, has been ruined. It's covered in stains from all sorts of fluids, one very specific kind that she can only imagine has come from S2. And across her blanket, in thick black writing, are the words...
'CHINKY SLUT'.
Maeve falls on her bed again, this time having broken into tears.
A somber fade out, before a slow fade back in.
Dyno-Mike walks into his apartment.
He crashes down on the sofa and switches on the TV. On the TV is the advert for this week's tag team match.
Advert Voice Over
AND THIS TUESDAY NIGHT, WE HAVE A 6 MAN TAG MATCH
Dyno-Mike
Yeah we do!
Advert V.O.
WE HAVE THE THREE BIG *beep beep beep*
Dyno-Mike
Bunch a’nancy boys
Advert V.O.
VERSUS DYNO-MIKE
Dyno-Mike
Oh yeah baby!
Advert V.O.
AND AVULSION!
Mike sits stunned. He looks absolutely devastated.
Dyno-Mike
This is why these fuckers get AGENTS!
As Dyno-Mike is about to go into the kitchen the doorbell rings. Mike throws the door open and to his horror -
Prince Albert
Hi there!
S2
Howdy there dickwad.
Dyno-Mike
You gotta be fuckin kiddin me.
Prince Albert
May we come in?
Dyno-Mike
Sure, I guess.
S2 barges past both of the men as he heads straight for the kitchen. Mike looks around to stop him but is interrupted by Albert.
Prince Albert
So - I’m assuming you heard we’ll be working together.
Dyno-Mike
Errmmm what - er yeah yeah I did, y’wanna jus’ sit down a second there.
Albert politely sits down on Mike’s sofa, and notices a teddy bear sitting in Mike's arm chair. A ruckus can be heard from the kitchen. S2 is almost thrown out of the kitchen.
S2
Get the fuck off me!
Dyno-Mike
Get the fuck off my fridge!
S2
Is that a teddy bear?
Mike seems to be getting overwhelmed and quite stressed.
Dyno-Mike
No it’s a grenade.
S2
Sure looks like a bear to me
Dyno-Mike
Cause it fuckin’ is one dumbass
S2
Easy there build a’ bear don’t get shitty.
Dyno-Mike moves to hit S2 but Albert interjects.
Prince Albert
Guys! We have to fight the three big - y’know
Dyno-Mike
I’ve taken to calling the “trio of large black men”
Prince Albert
I’ll go with 3BN, but thank you. - anyway, if we are fighting each other we can’t fight them.
Dyno-Mike slowly edges toward the chair that his bear sits on as he listens to Albert.
Prince Albert
We can beat them, Mike you have beaten two of them and beat them well. If you can show us how to take them head on then I think - what the fuck are you doing?
Dyno-Mike
What? I was listening, head on, defeat them yadda yadda.
Mike is standing as he blocks the bear from Alberts view.
Prince Albert
Why are you hiding the bear?
Dyno-Mike
Hidin’? Wha chyou talkin’ bout!
An awkward pause.
Dyno-Mike
Jus’ bit concerned cause you’re a - y’know.
Prince Albert
What?
Dyno-Mike
Gotta thang for furries.
Prince Albert
Michael I can honestly say, hand on heart I am not going to fuck your teddy bear. Now can you please calm down and tell us how we’re meant to beat three good wrestlers with this tub of lard in tow.
Dyno-Mike
Ok.
Mike sits down in his chair and gestures for S2 to sit.
S2
I’m good here.
Mike cracks his jaw and stares at S2. He nervously sits down.
Dyno-Mike
They can hit harder than you two. Move faster and smarter. I beat them because I flew at the like an atom bomb. I didn’t give them a second, and I don’t mean that pussy shit where you’re swinging for their heads and doing nothing. I’m talkin’ spearing those fuckers right from the word go, hit them with a suplex, disorientate them. If we’re gonna beat them then we’re gonna have to hit the gas and not take the foot of the peddle till either are tanks empty or they ain’t gettin up.
Albert and S2 sit silenced by the simplicity of the tactics.
S2
Wow. Hit them hard. If only you’d have given Custor that advice right before his last stand, fuckin idiot.
Dyno-Mike
Ok here’s somethin real simple.
Mike grabs S2 by the side of his head and gets right in his face. He pulls a stick of Dynamite out from behind him.
S2
Where’d you get that?
Dyno-Mike
Always prepared, and you don’t wanna know.
This thought makes Albert somewhat aroused and flustered.
Dyno-Mike
Listen d’me you fat cunt! If you get in that ring and give one of those slimy pieces a’ shit a second before you slap the silly, am gonna shove this so far up your ass I’ll be able to light the fuse through your nose, AM I CLEAR SOLDIER?
After a brief pause S2 composes himself.
S2
Get off of me you stupid redneck! You pull that shit again and you'll be counting yourself lucky that we are on the same side!
S2 throws Mike's hands and snaps the dynamite stick in half.
Mike grins.
Dyno-Mike
Now that's the sort of fight you can use come PrimeTime chubs. I’ll be seein’ you boys Toosdy. Now get the fuck out.
S2 leaves in a rush having had enough of Mike, Albert walks behind Mike and taps him on the shoulder. Mike turns and before he can say anything Albert hands him a card with a number on it.
Dyno-Mike
Is this your number?
Albert says nothing, winking at Mike before jogging out of the door.
Mike stands frightened and confused in his kitchen. He looks at his teddy bear, now on the coffee table and shudders.
Albert straightens himself up as he moves down the hallway, S2 following close behind him. Once they're out of earshot of Mike's door, he turns to S2.
Prince Albert
You have to make such a fucking scene?
S2
I was trying to distract him. Plus, that mother fucker put a stick of dynamite in my face Alby! I don't wanna get blown sky high! That shit was real hard to keep my cool through!
Prince Albert
Well done, you didn't succeed.
S2
But did you succeed? Did you do what we set out to do?
Albert turns and holds a radio up to S2, switching it on to reveal the sounds of Dyno-Mike in his home, singing some rather girly pop song to himself. S2 smiles.
S2
Bug planted. Priscilla will be pleased.
Prince Albert
Sure will.
Albert moves onwards down the hallway, S2 following behind him. S2 remembers back to a brief moment of their infiltration.
S2
Hey, when you called me a big tub of lard... that was part of the act right? Alby? Right?
Fade to commercial.
In the middle of dense woodland, a tall fence made of tree trunks and tightly wound with vines and rope cuts through the forrest. Neither its beginning nor its end are in sight. Trunk after trunk after trunk until the structure is interrupted by a gate.
The gate is open and behind it are elder pygmies who look at something behind the gate and cast a signal. A clunking sound and the gate slowly closes, the wood creaking until the structure has closed itself off from the outside world.
Now there is just silence, and the descending sun casts long shadows from the tall trees. Dwarfed by his surroundings stands a gangly being, too tall to be a pygmy but too short to be an adult, staring at the indomitable gate in front of him. It used to keep the boy safe from all the dastardly things the outside had to offer, now he is the outside.
He turns and looks into the endless darkness of the forrest. He can see nothing but the nothing never ends.
There is a section of the great fence, some distance from where the boy was stood, that has a distinct quality; a raised texture that subtly sets it apart from the rest of the fence. One square meter of fence out of the vast, untouchable structure. The boy approaches it and runs his fingers around the raised texture before digging a grubby finger nail into the wood and easing the section out. He's clearly very familiar with what's inside the fence. Now he's found his gap in the fence, he crawls in and crouches behind a hut. The boy's nostrils flare and he peaks inside the hut to see a family of pygmies devouring a roast boar. The boy licks his lips but moves on.
The next hut he crouches behind has no window spaces, he runs his fingers along the wooden pieces that make up the hut's wall and counts 11 slats from the left of the wall then thumps his fist against the slat and it opens, revealing the hut to be a pantry, rich with cured meats. The boy finds a sack and fills it with foods before slipping out of the hut and leaving his sack of stolen sirloin and such by his entry hole. It's good to find food, but this isn't what he came for.
Across from the huts he's hidden behind are another group of huts, and in the space between are two armed pygmies. They speak in a language familiar to the boy until they hear an ear splitting squark and see a chicken sprinting across a path some meters in front of them. They move down the path to investigate and the boy fleet-footedly scampers across the clearing towards the other group of huts. Once there, he sneaks around the back of a hut where pygmy chatter can be heard. He recognises their voices but feels nothing, they're not what he's looking for.
Attached to the hut is a smaller hut and the boy eases the door open and peers into the shadows. What he sees inside, on a comfy looking, tightly packed bed of hey and feathers, is a scruffy mongrel dog with speckled white and tan fur. It sleeps silently.
The boy remembers the sight of the dog's face when he held a stick up for it, eyes lit up, tongue and ears flopping around then sprinting away when he fakes throwing the stick. Then he remembers the endless darkness of the forrest and takes a look at the sleeping, peaceful dog and slowly closes the door to his little hut. The dog briefly stirs as the door closes, but quickly goes back to sleep.
The boy is back where he started, staring at the closed gate with a sack of meat over his shoulder. The sun has fallen completely and he has only a slightly yellow glow in front of him from the torches mounted on the great gate.
The boy turns and looks into the nothing that awaits him.
He takes a breath and walks into the heart of darkness.
Fade out.
Fade into a shot Mark Beverly standing in the center of the ring.
Mark Beverly: The following six-man tag team bout set for one fall is your first-hour main event of the evening!
The crowd pop, as that familiar pimped out garbage truck pulls up to the side of the stage, blasting out through three mega speakers on top of it the Coffin Dance theme music. Out of the truck, emerge the AWF's favourite trio, Ruxx Rampede, Black Clyde, and Big Homunculus, to a huge ovation.
The three move across the stage, Clyde rubbing at his brand new eye, though their smiling and waving at the fans looks quite thinly veiled. Beneath it, they look agitated, intense, ready for a war with the man who'd caused them much distress over the previous weeks, the Atomic Texan… Dyno-Mike.
Mark Beverly: Coming in first, the team of-
As the three are moving down the ramp… they're PEARL HARBOURED!!! They're all clocked from behind! Albert lamps Rampede, Mike throttles Homunculus, and S2 flattens Black Clyde! All three of the 3BN clatter down the ramp, landing awkwardly on the steel. The team of Avulsion and Mike start to stomp down on their opponents, to a chorus of boos from the disapproving crowd.
Dyno-Mike: This one! Get him up and in the ring!
He points at Homunculus, his opponent for the Chamber, and Albert helps him lift the Giant Dwarf to his feet, before the pair toss the Pygmian into the ring. As Mike slowly rolls inside, Albert moves back towards the other two members of 3BN, and continues the beat down alongside his fellow 3BN member S2. Albert lifts Ruxx to his feet, as S2 takes Clyde, and the pair both toss the respective men over the barricade into the crowd.
Homunculus is on his own now, slowly rising to his feet in the ring, as Mike roars, waiting for him to be up. As Homunculus finally reaches his feet, the referee calls for the bell.
Ding!
SPEAR!!!
MIKE CLATTERS THE WEAKENED HOMUNCULUS WITH A SPEAR IMMEDIATELY!!!
He pins him…
Wilford Daniels: ONE…
TWO…
TH-KICKOUT!!!
The crowd let out a sigh of relief, as Homunculus gets his shoulder up, Mike furious with having been nano-seconds away from the quickest victory in AWF history. Mike is at his feet, stomping on the side of the head of Homunculus, before lifting him by the waist, and German Suplexing the gangly dwarf into his corner, where Prince Albert and S2 have now arrived.
Albert is tagged in, and as Mike lifts Homunculus into a sidewalk slam position, Albert grabs him by the head… REVERSE DDT SIDEWALK SLAM!!! What a double team move!
Albert gets the pin…
Wilford Daniels: ONE…
TWO-Kickout!
A quicker kickout this time, it's clear Homunculus has regained some of his composure. Albert rains down the stomps now, before lifting the Pygmian up, and bringing him down hard in the centre of the ring with a scoop slam. He's over in the corner, tagging in the Scientist quickly, who charges off the ropes with all of his 500+ pounds of weight, and drops a huge elbow across the sternum of Homunculus!
Pin!
Wilford Daniels: ONE…
TWO…
KICKOUT!
S2 looks irritated, whereas Albert calmly returns to his corner, as S2 drops and applies a chin-hold to Homunculus. Albert and Mike cheer him on, as Homunculus grits his teeth, feeling the pain as S2's big meaty hands wrap around his chin! The gangly dwarf tries to fight his way out of it, sending a few shots at S2's midsection, but a club to his back sends him back down, before S2 learns from his mistake the week prior, and tags out to Mike.
Homunculus tries to roll away from the corner, to give himself breathing room, but Mike is on him quickly, planting his large boot into the face of Homunculus over and over. He has him up then, by the waist, and plants him down with a SECOND German Suplex!
Then a THIRD!
Then a FOURTH!!!
Mike chuckles to himself as Homunculus lays in a beaten heap on the mat. As the Atomic Texan watches him try to stir, he moves into the corner, gesturing for Homunculus to get to his feet, ready to blast him with a SPEAR to finish him off…
Homunculus is up…
Mike charges!
But Homunculus dives out of the way! Mike can't stop his momentum! He crashes head first into the opposing turnbuckle! He tumbles backwards dazed, right into the grip of Homunculus around his throat! The crowd are on their feet!
DWARVEN CHOKESLAM!!!
NO!
Dyno-Mike reverses, managing to fight out of it on the lift! He wraps his arms around Homunculus' waist once more...
A FIFTH GERMAN SUPLEX!!!
Dyno-Mike covers him…
Wilford Daniels: ONE…
TWO…
THR-KICKOUT!!!
Christian Cage: Homunculus WILL not go down!
Mike knows this fact, and punches the mat aggressively, his previously pleased and cocky demeanour gone.
Meanwhile, on the outside, Ruxx Rampede is up! His movements are slow due to the beat down laid upon him before the start of the match, but he's doing his best to climb up back over the barricade. Albert and S2 see this, and move away from the ring to approach the Bin Man, ready to lay in a second beatdown.
But Ruxx fights back! He clatters S2 with a right hand, before him and Albert exchange fists, fighting as they get further and further up the ramp until they're on the stage! Ruxx lands a knee into Albert's stomach, keeling him over, before grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, and sending him flying off off the edge of the stage! Albert hits the concrete floor head, and looks to be unconscious.
Ruxx turns though right into a clothesline from S2, bowling him over. S2 tries to follow up, but Ruxx scrambles away from him, trying to regain footing to give him a fighting chance against the 500lb monster!
But what S2 is unaware of, is the Black Clyde is up too! He's made his way to his corner, and is leaning over the ropes, desperate to make the tag to Big Homunculus! The Pygmian sees him, and tries to crawl over to him, but he's stopped by Mike who lands a stomp onto his spine!
The stomps rain down over and over, before Mike grabs him by the waist and lifts him up once more, ready to put him away with a SIXTH GERMAN SUPLEX!
BUT NO! Homunculus sends a headbutt backwards into Mike's nose! The Texan clutches at his face, before his throat is gripped by Homunculus' huge paw! He can't react quick enough as he's lifted…
DWARVEN CHOKESLAM!!!
IT HITS!!!
Mike is sent to the mat back first as he and Homunculus just lay there, both men out of it! Clyde roars, his muscled arm extending the furthest it can go over the ropes, begging Homunculus to tag him in…
Homunculus looks up, he can see Clyde reaching to him! Calling to him! He begins his crawl… ebbing close and closer to Clyde…
Mike is up to his feet behind him… he sees Homunculus getting closer to Clyde!
He charges at him…
But with his last ounce of strength, Homunculus pushes himself off of the mat, leaping through the air, gangly arm outstretched…
HE MAKES THE TAG!!!
BLACK CLYDE IS IN!!!
Mike takes a few steps back as Clyde bolts at him, obliterating Mike with a huge LARIAT! Mike is up again, but walloped back down with a SECOND LARIAT!!! Mike tries to get back to his feet but is struggling, but Clyde helps him, picking him up and sending him off the ropes… Mike bounds back…
HUGE FREE-FALL DROP!!! The crowd go crazy for Clyde!
Clyde isn't finished there, his anger boiling to the surface over Mike. He lifts him to his feet by the skull, and charges at the turnbuckle with Mike's head in hand, sending it careening into the top turnbuckle! And then again! And again! Mike goes dizzy as over and over again Clyde sends his head bouncing off of the top turnbuckle! Finally, he takes a few steps back, and squashes Mike's head between his own abs of steel, and the top turnbuckle!!!
Mike stumbles out of the corner, into the great arms of Black Clyde! He wastes no time, lifting Mike through the air, and crashing him down to the mat with a BELLY TO BELLY SLAM!!!
Clyde is up to his feet, and the crowd are so heavily in his corner as his bright fiery eye looks down at Mike with only one thing on his mind, vengeance! And with that thought, Clyde begins to climb to the top rope!
Jim Ross: What's he going for here! This could be dangerous!
Clyde is aware of the dangers, but it worries him none. He measures Mike, and leaps in the same instant!
BICEP DROP!!!
His bicep crashes squarely over the already damaged head of Dyno-Mike!!!
Mike is out cold!
Clyde hooks his leg!
Wilford Daniels: ONE...
TWO…
THRE-
CHAIR SHOT!!! Right over the back of Clyde!
The referee calls for the bell, ending the match in a disqualification, as there stands S2, steel chair in hand, aimed at the back of Black Clyde who now writhes in pain. The crowd boo, but judging by the shit eating grin on his face, S2 cares none.
He throws the chair to one side, as he reaches into his pocket, and pulls out some Brass Knuckles, slowly slipping them over his fingers.
Christian Cage: Oh god! What's he gonna do here!?
As Clyde slowly starts to climb back to his feet, S2 prep his fist, aiming squarely at the side of Black Clyde's skull…
Clyde is up…
S2 swings his fist!
BUT CLYDE'S NEW EYE! IT MOVES BY ITSELF! IT LOCKS ONTO THE INCOMING FIST!!!
AND CLYDE CATCHES IT!!!
S2 looks shocked, his brass knuckle-clad fist having been caught mid-air in the grasp of Black Clyde, quicker than a flash, a blur of movement that he could barely register! The rest of Clyde's head turns to look at where his new eye is already looking, at the perplexed and worried face of S2, before grabbing him around the throat with his free hand!
BUT ANOTHER CHAIR SHOT!!! Right over the back of Clyde's head!!! The Tall and Handsome Man drops to the mat face first, as Mike stands there with the steel chair, before raining another shot down on top of him!
Homunculus is in the ring too, beaten and hurt, but he tries to help his friend!
But it's no use! A chair shot for his skull too! Homunculus has joined his friend Clyde in an unconscious heap on the mat!
Ruxx has made his way over from the stage, jumping up onto the apron as S2 charges at him! Rampede sends an elbow into S2's face, before attempting to climb into the ring… but Albert grabs at his foot! Ruxx tries to kick away at the Prince, but before he can, S2 is charging at him again…
HE CLOCKS RUXX WITH THE BRASS KNUCKLES!!!
Ruxx collapses off of the apron, hitting hard against the concrete floor! Albert laughs, before moving past this now unconscious body to roll into the ring. He stands with Mike and S2, both of whom look pleased with themselves, as the trio turn to look at the hard cam, and raise their hands to a chorus of boos, as the scene fades out.
Three Big Niggas def. Dyno-Mike & Avulsion by disqualification in 6:35
Not a fade in but a quick cut into the scene.
Conor McGregor
How the FOOK has this happened 'ere then? I t'ought I fookin' told you. I only want the big money dates, not this free access TV. Who the fook would wanna be on the low paying show?
Conor is standing behind his desk in his office...holy hell his office looks insane, his desk is massive and looks really fucking expensive. The wall behind him is just this massive mural done up of Conor flipping the crowd off at a UFC show, to his left is a vault where Conor keeps all his money, to his right is FAT stacks of cash because his vault has become over filled with cash. Conor is wearing the finest suit that money can buy, the stitching is just the words "Fuck You" over and over again, it's all custom tailored (duh).
Conor's Agent
I-I-I-I-I-
Conor McGregor
T-T-T-TODAY JUNIOR! WHY THE FUCK WAS I BOOKED FOR THIS SHOW?
Conor's Agent
I-I guess that they...that they didn't read over your demands on the contract thoroughly when I sent it back to them…
Conor McGregor
OH, SO NOW YOU'RE GUESSING SHIT? WHO THE FOOK DO YOU T'INK YOU ARE?
Conor's Agent
I-
Conor McGregor
I DIDN'T FOOKIN' SAY YOU COULD SPEAK, CUNT!
Conor's agent just falls silent. Not saying a word.
Conor McGregor
NOW YOU AREN'T GONNA SAY A FOOKIN' WORD WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU?
Conor's Agent
I thought that you-
Conor McGregor
SHUT THE FOOK UP! YOU'RE FOOKIN' DONE! GET THE FOOK OUTTA MY OFFICE!
Conor's Agent just looks at the floor, knowing he is now out of the highest paying job he has ever had. He leaves the room almost in tears...as he leaves Conors wife, Dee Devlin, walks into the room, Conor is now just sat behind the table with his head in his hands.
Dee Devlin
You didn' 'ave to do that now did you? If you were just gonna fire him why not just fire him outright? Why make it about the show?
Conor McGregor
Because I canne keep sendin' these people back to the agency without givin' them a proper reason at to why I keep on firin' the fookers. Needs to 'ave a reason behind it
Dee Devlin
Well...next time can you please keep it down? The kids could hear you from out the kitchen.
Conor McGregor
A'ight. A'ight... I'll do me best.
Dee Devlin
Thank you. I'll go an' get outta your hair now.
Conor McGregor
Cheers love. I'll be out soon, just gotta sort some shit out with this fookin' wrestlin' shite.
Dee smiles and leaves Conor's office, Conor picks up his phone and gives the agency a call again, as we fade out into...
THE FOLLOWING ANNOUNCEMENT IS SPONSORED BY PROPER TWELVE IRISH WHISKEY
We cut to Conor's Office again, where Mystic Mac is indulging himself in some Proper No. Twelve Whiskey, he is sat straight up at his desk, not noticing the cameras at first.
Conor McGregor
Ahhh...that is some fookin' fine whiskey…
(Conor's about to do the 'Oh, Didn't see you there' thing to the camera)
Conor looks at the cameras, "surprised".
Conor McGregor
Oh, Didn't see you there…
(told you.)
Conor places his glass of whiskey to the side, then kicks his feet up on the desk.
Conor McGregor
...now, You should all know who the fook I am. What the fook I 'ave done with me life. I am the Mystic Mac. The Money Maker. The best ting that the UFC ever fookin' had in it's hands. I drew the numbers in for them. Without me they prolly would've fell off into irrelevancy fookin' years ago! I have the quickest title fight in UFC history!
The camera zooms in close to Conors face for this next part.
Conor McGregor
I knocked that fookin' pussy out in thirteen seconds, B-T-Dubs
*Wink*
The camera returns to normal now, as McGregor continues to speak.
Conor McGregor
I am the first Irish born UFC champion EVER, The first simultaneous multi-divisional champion in UFC history...HISTORY! ME! The fookin' first of them! I am in five of the six highest selling Pay-Per-Views in UFC history!
The camera zooms in again.
Conor McGregor
UFC 229, 209, 196, 205 and 194. In that exact fookin' order.
The camera returns to normal, and McGregor takes his feet off the table and looks deadpan into the camera.
Conor McGregor
I am M O N E Y. Put me on anything and I can guaran-fookin'-tee you that it will become the talk o' the town. Putting me on this free product is a fookin' insult! An insult to my fookin' worth, an insult to my fookin' family...and an insult to me as a person. People should PAY to see what Mystic Mac can do. Not be able to watch the shite I do for free. I knew gettin' into this wrestlin' shite was a fookin' mistake. My former agent, who has since been shown the fookin' door, didn't do my contract up correctly and with his fook up, he cost me a whole bunch of fookin' money…
Conor then pulls two BIG bundles of cash out from under his desk and sets them on his desk.
Conor McGregor
Not like it means SHIT to me. I wipe my ass with Benjamins. Money ain't shit to me. Me and my fookin' family are loaded for LIFE, but I only want to 'work' the BIG pay days, like Brock and Ronda. If those two who, let's be fookin' honest 'ere, could barely fookin' do their job in the UFC, Brock was gassed to the fookin' eyelids and Ronda got rocked once and lost her whole career because of it. So if they can come into this shit as flawed as they were...then this should be a fookin' cake walk for the G.O.A.T.
The camera zooms right in on Connors face again, but he is deadpan staring directly back into it.
Conor McGregor
I'll be seeing you cunts on the seventh.
And with those final words, Conor gets out of his chair and walks out of frame.
THE PRECEDING ANNOUNCEMENT HAS BEEN SPONSORED BY PROPER TWELVE IRISH WHISKEY
Fade out to commercial.
The camera fades in to show the outside of the large warehouse which houses Markus Alice’s dilapidated gym. a large sign featuring the words “ALICE’S MEGA GYM - MAIN & MEMBERS ENTRANCE AT SIDE” sits above the entrance. Well, it would, had half the letters not fallen off of the sign leaving the building simply titled “SMEGY MAN MEATS”.
Inside, we cut to the Gym’s owner, Markus Alice, talking to a scrawny man sitting behind the reception, seemingly the old receptionist’s (whom Mag Aluf may have accidentally murdered on the last show) replacement.
Markus Alice
Aw right butty, yous jus’ sit there an’ look busy. Ah’ll be honest, we get fuck all people in ‘ere so your job is more of a tax dodge-type deal. Dun’ ask any Q’s and Ah’ll not turn yous into a drug-fuelled sex slave, Ah hear that’s popular at the moment.
The scrawny man doesn’t respond, he just sweats. A quiet bell rings behind Alice, causing him to turn around, surprised to have a visitor.
Markus Alice
If yous ain’t a sight for sore eyes butt, Ah told yous Ah’d see yous right.
Alice holds his arms open to Mag, who it turns out was the visitor, for a hug. Mag just spits at his feet.
Mag Aluf
Don’t be fucking gay bro, nothing’s gayer than being gay bro, except killing yourself, dog. That wrestling shit was fuckin’ E-Z bro, and I got some mad puss after bro, some proper fuckin’ dirty Canadian shit bro.
Markus nods along as Mag expresses his fondness for Puss.
Mag Aluf
This bitch even asked if I wanted to eat some Poutine - Miss me with that shit man, Mag Aluf ain’t into scat. Don’t get me wrong bro, there ain’t much Mag won’t dick down - man I’ll even do Mexican chicks, the hair on the bottom of their back just gives me something to hold on to but The Defiler ain’t about to eat no girl’s ass bro - The only Brown Town Mag Aluf has dined in was a slut named Aisha from Zante ‘15.
Markus Alice
Black Lives Matter.
Mag Aluf
Church, dog.
The two aggressively-white dudes fist bump before being interrupted by the new receptionist waving their arms to gain their attention.
Mag Aluf
The fuck is this bitch?
Markus Alice
Old receptionist died, had to chuck her in the skip out back. This is “Sharon”.
Mag Aluf
Fuckin’ SHARON? That’s a fuckin’ nonce name bro.
Markus Alice
Say ‘Ello, Sharon - You fucking piece of shit.
Sharon nervously shakes his head at the Welshman and Guido. He’s a very skinny man, looking roughly 30, with most of his face obscured by long ginger hair. He’s wearing a striped sweater and what looks like a long grey skirt, although his legs are hidden by the desk. What really makes Sharon a complete wanker is the felt Beret he has perched on his head.
Sharon
Mmmm...nmm..sh...rn
Sharon seems to be attempting to speak but his nervous disposition gets the better of him and only allows soft, quiet noises to escape his lips. Mag grimaces at the man before taking a bump of his signature Mag-grade Nose Candy. This apparently makes Sharon even more uncomfortable, as Mag notices.
Mag Aluf
Bro, are you a fucking Narc?
Alice turns to Sharon suddenly, reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a fucking Glock. Holding it to the man’s throat, he shouts at Sharon.
Markus Alice
WHAT’S THE FUCKING MATTER YOU LITTLE GINGER CUNT? ARE YOU A FUCKING NARC?!
Sharon begins crying and shakily holds out a name badge he seems to have pulled from the ether. Alice takes it and looks over it before passing it to Mag to do the same.
Alice looks back at the receptionist, also putting the gun back into his pocket.
Mag Aluf
Your fuckin’ moms legit named you Shy Ron? What the fu-
The coming character assassination would have to wait as Mag is interrupted by a chiming from his pocket, Shy Ron breathes a sigh of relief. Mag removes his chiming phone from his pocket and attempts to unlock it via the Eye-Scan feature - Unfortunately, on account of the narcotics, his pupils are about as stable as Michael J. Fox trying to thread a needle. Mag eventually enters his pin and checks his messages.
A flicker of slight sadness resonates behind the PartyHorse’s eyes, but is quickly shaken off as he types a response. He hits send and looks back to his trainer (I guess you could say trainer, kinda).
Markus Alice
Anything important?
Mag lets a small smirk form on his face as he puts his hater-blocker sunglasses on his eyes.
Mag Aluf
Mag Aluf’s hungry for some emotionally-vulnerable Puss bro, and he just got invited to an all-you-can-eat.
The scene fades out to black.
The Hardy Compound,
Cameron, North Carolina
The rain consistently pummels against the windows, the glass vibrating with each splatter of cold water as the cacophony of the storm overhead plays as a backing track to the music softly filling the large barn-turned-funeral-parlour.
The room is scarcely decorated, a few rows of chairs sit in front of a small stage, complete with a wooden lectern. An aisle separates the rows of chairs into two sections and leads to a large wooden coffin sat on a plinth in the middle of the stage.
Various people in suits and dresses are sitting on the aforementioned chairs. A few notable faces can be seen amongst the guests, including Christian, both Dudleys, Priscilla Kelly and Albert, seemingly not on a leash for once and instead dressed in a nice suit, and some guy called Kodak Mack or some shit, either way he wasn’t wearing a shirt and smelt like bear shit. Mag, dressed in a knock-off Gucci tank-top and board shorts makes his way to his seat, he is shortly joined by none other than the Rated R Superstar himself, Edge!
Mag Aluf
Ay, Raging Dead! You knew Jeff?
Edge
Who the fuck is Raging Dead?
Edge gives Mag a strange look. Mag doesn’t get a chance to continue the conversation as a voice from the podium on stage interrupts him.
Matt Hardy
Gooooood Evening all! We are gathered in the parlour of transcendence on this eve to celebrate this vessel’s passing and the transference of Brother Nero’s consciousness to the MUL-TI-VERSE.
A woman in a cheap nurse costume wipes a tear away from her face as her boyfriend, who looks surprisingly like Evan Bourne, wraps an arm around her in support.
Matt Hardy
Brother Nero suffered for many eons, trapped in this vessel! His soul forced to engage in the everlasting battle against hard drug addiction, his physical form positively RIDDLED with venereal diseases.
Mag nods slightly, recounting their games of STD Top-Trumps they would play.
Matt Hardy
Finally, he is free! And he shall finally break the 7th cypher of the Multiverse, bringing upon this world a reckoning of biblical proportions!
Reby Hardy joins her husband on stage and takes over the microphone.
Reby Hardy
Thank you Matt.
She offers him a kiss on the cheek, to which he licks her cheek instead.
Reby Hardy
Jeffrey Nero Hardy was a dear friend to us all, and will be truly missed. Recently, as I was sorting through Jeff’s possessions, I came across a notebook of his.
Reby holds out a small black book.
Reby Hardy
The book contains many names, however one is mentioned a few times, next to words such as “Hero In Dealer”. Any person Jeff felt was a Hero and especially one he felt could “Deal” with his deep-rooted issues is a true friend of the family. As such, I would like to invite Mr Mag Aluf to say a few words.
A spotlight appears from nowhere and rests focused on Mag. He shrugs it off and gets to his feet, proceeding to walk to the stage and replace Reby. He reaches into his shorts and pulls out his cell phone, seemingly Mag had foreseen this happening and prepared a speech. He quickly types a few words in and looks to the crowd before forcibly tearing the microphone from the lectern, basically breaking the thing. He walks across the stage towards the coffin.
Mag Aluf
Jeffrey Nero Hardy is...Shit, fuckin’ editing permissions…
Mag fiddles with his phone for a moment before returning back to his speech, he leans on the coffin as he reads.
Mag Aluf
Jeffrey Nero Hardy was an American professional wrestler and musician. He was signed to WWE, where he performed on the SmackDown brand. Hardy was best known for his work in his multiple runs with WWE.
Mag pretends to wipe a tear away from his face as he quickly closes Jeff’s Wikipedia page and returns to his seat.
Reby Hardy
Many thanks to Mr. Aluf for those… words.
Reby doesn’t seem convinced but continues nonetheless.
Reby Hardy
Jeff left very specific instructions on how he wished for his funeral to be conducted, and as requested we have followed his wishes.
She bows her head and leaves it at that, walking from the stage as the spotlight focuses on the coffin and the house lights dim.
The Dudleys begin loudly wailing as the music begins, obviously being overcome with emotion. Suddenly, the plinth holding the coffin begins to rise upwards. Once high enough, the plinth turns on it’s side to reveal a large depiction of Jeff Hardy’s face, drawn in the same style as his self-portraits, with the coffin making the nose of the large effigy.
Matt Hardy
He is ASCENDING!
Matt’s exclamation is timed perfectly, the doors of the coffin swing open! Jeff Hardy’s corpse begins floating from the wooden box, above the crowd!
Matt Hardy
BROTHER NERO HAS TRANSCENDED!
While the display is already fairly fucked up, nothing could prepare the crowd for what was about to come next. Somehow, the wiring system used to puppet Jeff’s corpse has tangled! With a sudden burst from a snapped wire, Jeff’s corpse is spun like a BeyBlade around the room! The force of the spin is enough to force the other wire to snap! The body flings across the room to hit hard against the back wall, leaving a slight red smear as it slowly slides down the wall into a heap on the floor.
Mag Aluf
That’s fucked up, bro.
Edge
Who the fuck is Raging Dead?
Matt Hardy walks over to the mangled corpse of his brother and pokes it gently with the tip of his boot.
Matt Hardy
Brother Nero has been.. DELETED. DELETE! DELETE! DELETE!
We fade to black as Matt continues to shout “Delete” in the background and Mag discusses Doppelgängers with Edge.
We fade back, to the commentary booth where sat is a somber looking commentary booth.
Jim Ross: Jeff was a special soul, and we all will miss him.
There’s a moment of silence offered up.
Jim Ross: Next Tuesday is our last PrimeTime before AWF’s arrival in New York for the Brawl at Yankee Stadium, where we already know there will be an Elimination Chamber, a Championship Scramble, and Four-Team Ladder, all with gold on the line! You can thank the great Commissioner Austin for every last bit of that!
Christian Cage: I can’t deny that much, Ross; that wild card is the brainchild of nobody but Stone Cold. Speaking of championships, there is the second part of your interview with the World’s Champion Priscilla Kelly, but we did want to remind you beforehand that Bret Hart has promised to be here TONIGHT! to give a well anticipated update on Commissioner Booker!
Jim Ross: Commissioner? Well anticipated?!
The scene crossfades out as Ross begins a rant in favor of Austin in Christian’s face, a flake of tonsillitis flying from his mouth onto the lip of Captain Charisma the last sight.
Jim Ross
And Priscilla, do you believe you are worthy of the AWF World's Championship belt?
Priscilla Kelly
Excuse me?
Jim Ross
I meant-
Priscilla Kelly
What kind of fucking question is that? Do I believe I'm worthy? Are you joking?
Jim Ross
I meant no disrespect Priscilla-
Priscilla Kelly
Do you think I'm worthy Jim?
Jim Ross
Well of course I do but-
Priscilla Kelly
But you know others don't, which is why you asked. Do you think it's fair, the criticisms people have for me being Champion? The way they try to play down my success?
Jim Ross
I do not share those opinions myself-
Priscilla Kelly
But have you humoured those thoughts Jim?
Jim Ross
I've- I've… Priscilla…
Priscilla Kelly
Doggy! S2!
And in that instant, into the room, Prince Albert and S2 drag Matt Sydal, kicking and screaming at the pair who have him clutched by either arm. Albert sends a fist into the side of his head, and momentarily silences Sydal.
Priscilla Kelly
This is Matt Sydal. You know him, Jim?
Jim Ross
Of course.
Priscilla Kelly
What was it you had to say about me Matt? Mind repeating?
Matt slowly looks up, clearly having gone through a bit of a beating by the men flanking him on either side. Through his bust lips, he grits his teeth and speaks.
Matt Sydal
I said you're a fake Champion. You're a mockery. You're a cheat.
Priscilla Kelly
Hmm. See, I've said it before Jim, and I'll say it again. The idiots who hold this opinion are countless. Countless! Look at Matt Sydal.
She stands up and gestures towards the heavily beaten Sydal.
Priscilla Kelly
He can barely stand up, and he pretends like he has some victory over me. A moral victory.
Priscilla cups Matt's chin, and brings his face to look her in her eyes.
Priscilla Kelly
That moral victory is real nice Matt. You can have that. I'll stick to all the victories I have though. Like the World's Championship. Like the riches. Like the best win-loss record in the company. Like having never been pinned.
Matt Sydal
They're not yours.
Priscilla Kelly
Oh yes they are. They're my accolades. And that little moral victory, that's yours. Well done Matty, you earned it.
Priscilla boops Matt on the nose.
Priscilla Kelly
I want people like Matt Sydal, and Max Ironside, and Rockstar Spud, to understand something. These moral victories you constantly spout off about… they mean nothing to someone without morals.
Priscilla grabs Matt aggressively by the chin this time, and forces him to look into her grinning face, her fiery eyes burning a hole into his pupils.
Priscilla Kelly
I'm gonna say this in a way that you'll be able to understand Matt. Priscilla woke up. She got out of bed. She brushed her teeth. She put on some clothes.
As S2 and Albert still hold him in place, Priscilla wrenches Sydal's arm nearly out of it's socket, as she starts to lift her foot to his jaw.
Priscilla Kelly
She put on her makeup. She got in the car. Bill drove her to her interview with Jim Ross.
Priscilla forces Matt's mouth open with her foot, until her heel is pressed up against Sydal's top layer of teeth. Matt squeals, as he's helpless to do anything about what he knows is coming.
Priscilla Kelly
Matt Sydal interrupted. So Priscilla smashed his fucking teeth out.
And with that, Priscilla drops to her back suddenly, yanking Sydal down with her by his arm. The momentum he's carried with stops as Priscilla hits the floor, obliterating Sydal's top layer of teeth as his head comes to a brutal stop against her heel. Teeth fly everywhere, blood streaming from the mess that once was Sydal's gums. He screams and roars, a pool of crimson slowly ebbing from the red hole that was once his mouth, as he rolls around on the carpet floor in agony.
Priscilla turns slowly to Jim.
Priscilla Kelly
Jim, stand up.
Jim gulps, his fat face going white, as he slowly, shakily, gets to his feet.
Priscilla Kelly
Give me your arm.
Jim looks ready to pass out in horror, as he slowly extends his arm. Priscilla grabs it, much like she did Sydal's. Priscilla, very slowly, glaring unblinking into the eyes of Jim the whole time, lifts her foot up to his mouth. Jim starts to sweat, looking terrified.
Jim Ross
Priscilla, please, please I-
Priscilla Kelly
Jim.
Jim Ross
Yes?
Albert moves over to Priscilla's foot, and takes off her boot, revealing her bare foot beneath.
Priscilla Kelly
Kiss it.
Jim looks shocked, his face, drained of colour, looking up at Priscilla with disbelief.
Jim Ross
That's- it?
No answer. Jim just nods, before he does as told, and kisses Priscilla on the foot. She smiles, as she slowly lowers her leg.
Priscilla Kelly
Can you believe you made it through one of these things unscathed?
Jim Ross
Not quite yet.
Priscilla Kelly
Then fuck off before I get the gasoline.
Jim doesn't need to be told twice, quickly bolting out of the room. Priscilla grabs her boot from Albert, and sits down in Jim's leather chair. She looks up at her two henchmen.
Priscilla Kelly
I don't want Matt seeing a wrestling ring again boys.
The pair nod, before Albert and S2 converge on Sydal, his agonising moans and screams heard but not seen as the camera zooms in on Priscilla Kelly, slowly putting her boot back on with a small, content smile. After her boot is zipped back up, she inspects the heel, before using her fingers to pick out a tooth, and flick it across the room.
Crossfade back to the commentary booth.
Jim Ross: Matt Sydal has been forced to retire due to irredeemable injury, as confirmed just hours later. We wish him the best recovery possible, and send our regards to his family.
Another somber look from the pair, before a crossfade to the sight of a wide-eyed Commissioner Austin in front of his office door, Kevin Kelly with a microphone next to him.
Kevin Kelly
Good evening ladies and gentlemen, I am here with the interim Commissioner Ston--
Commissioner Austin
What?
Kevin Kelly’s eyes widen as he realizes the bad choice of words.
Kevin Kelly
Well, Commissioner Austin, I only mention it since Bret Hart has promised an update on Booker T tonig--
Commissioner Austin
What? (pointing to self with three fingers) You think Stone Cold gives a damn what that pile of garbage has to say about a dead man?
Kevin Kelly’s mouth is shut with no intentions of moving. A sudden yank of the microphone, push of AWF’s lead reporter, and force of the camera to get a close up shot of him and only him. His eyes are wide.
Commissioner Austin
What Stone Cold’s had enough of is this damn disrespect! Champions?! You call these champions?! Stone Cold is a champion’s champion! I’m a man’s man! Ya got mealy-mouthed sunovabitch Spud walkin’ ‘round with that damn ‘The Champ is Queer’ bullshit every damn body knows it’s All About Austin!
He has no choice but to take a deep breath, for necessity rather than any sort of calm.
Commissioner Austin
Then ya got that tramp piece’a’trass Priscilla Kelly disrespecting Jim Ross! You sorry son-of-a-bitch! You fuck with Ross, you fuck with me, and that goes for any damn body! He kissed your foot -- well you can kiss my ass!
Austin begins pacing before catching the camera with a wild look one last time.
Commissioner Austin
I got something for you both! Next week’s main event, eleven days before AWF tears down Yankee Stadium, it’ll be you two sorry bastards versus each and every contender on your card! Ten versus two! And that’s the bottom line, ‘cause Stone Cold said so!
A thrown microphone disrupts the view prior to a fade out.
Bret Hart
I don't know what to tell you Robbie…
Bret Hart folds his hands in front of him on his desk. In front of him is someone that is fairly recognizable.
Robbie McKay, the Showstopper himself looking a lot older and tired then he used to in his 'glory' days.
Robbie McKay
I just need a shot. You're the only one that was willing to even talk to me Bret.
Bret grimaces.
Bret Hart
That's because we were good friends back in the early 90's Robbie. You never actually did anything to me personally but you burned a lot of bridges when the drinking and drugs got out of control. You understand why I'm hesitant to give you a contract?
Robbie nods.
Robbie McKay
I don't pretend to act like I didn't really mess things up. My whole life imploded underneath me. I've been sober for six years now.
He pulls something from the breast pocket of his dress shirt, placing it on the desk. It was his sobriety chip, a big number '6' on it.
Robbie McKay
I've been working with Mike and Finn at the Closters daily. I'm ready to do this again. I just need someone willing to give me a shot.
Bret sighs deeply, obviously wanting to give Robbie the benefit of doubt.
Bret Hart
Alright.
Robbie's blue eyes light up.
Robbie McKay
Yes. Thank you. You won't regret this…
Bret holds up his hand.
Bret Hart
I have some conditions of course. You will have a three month probationary contract. After that we can discuss a more permanent arrangement. Second, you don't go messing with you know who. Yes Robbie, I know. In fact it was the reason I even gave her this shot. I saw you in her the moment I saw her tapes. She doesn't know, I take it?
Robbie shakes his head
Robbie McKay
No. Her mother wanted nothing to do with me. You can't deny me the right to get to know her, she's my daughter…
Bret's face still looks uncomfortable.
Bret Hart
After the probationary period then. Obviously no drugs or alcohol, but if you are serious about your sobriety that should be a given.
Robbie once again nods.
Bret Hart
Well... then I suppose the Showstopper is making his return. You're lucky, we just lost a talent and I need someone that can draw a crowd. I just hope it's for the right reasons.
Bret stands, offering his hand.
Robbie McKay
I'm going to make this work, you'll see... they'll all see…
Another fade out.
The following events take place the day after PrimeTime VII
Redondo California
A maroon 1951 Chevy Fleetline is driving through a neighborhood. In the back seat sits El Chingar, taking huge puffs out of his cigar with dark glasses shielding his eyes. In the front sits his masked assistant and client Ernesto who now fully, and reluctantly, has adopted the name El Gordo.
El Gordo
Where are we going
(hacking through all the smoke)
and can you roll down the window please? You know I have asthma, why are you doing this?
El Chingar rolls his eyes and gives his window the tiniest crack to let the smoke slowly slip out.
El Chingar
I told you
(taking another puff of the cigar)
We're going to see a friend of mine.
El Gordo
What's with you and all these secrets now? Gah-lee, you become a wrestler and now you think your
(in a high pitch mocking voice)
meester beeg-shot
Chingar wacks Gordo on the back of the head, he lets out a yelp.
El Chingar
Correction, you're a wrestler now. I'm your manager. And it's like I said, everything is on a need to know basis now. And you don't need-to-know. But what I can tell you, we're going to do some training. You're facing a couple of locos in your first match. If you want to beat some locos, you have to get into the mind of a loco, and there is no one better to train you than the craziest man I know. His name is Creeper, and his house is coming up.
They continue to drive through the neighborhood zig-zagging through the streets. Each turn the houses look more warn down, and more menacing than the last. They pull into a dead end, with a singular house. The yard is dead, and drying even more in the bright son. Gordo parks the car, gets out and makes his way to the house, behind him Chingar has rolled down the window and whistled at him. He turns around and walks back to the car, giving out an audible sigh as he opens his door. The two walk up to the house and knock on it, as tiny dogs are heard barking inside. An old woman opens the door, kicking the tiny dogs away.
Woman
Hola? Who are you? What do you want?
El Chingar
Hi, is
(leaning in and whispering)
is Creeper home?
The woman squints at El Chingar, she leans in to get a better look.
Woman
Joey? Little Joey is that you?
El Chingar
Yes Miss Guiterrez..but it's El Chingar now! Please, I just need to see Creeper.
Woman
(leaning back into the house)
OSCAR! Your friend is here for you!
Creeper
(From a distance)
I'm in the yard with the guys!
The woman let's them in the house. The two make their way to the backyard. Several tall hispanic men are hanging out in the yard drinking and chatting with a faint hint of music. A few bikes are parked in the center of the yard, all of them chrome with raised handle bars. El Chingar and Gordo walk into the yard as the men stare at them. From out of the bushes comes a skinny Mexican man, with long kaki shorts, socks up to his knees, and a white tank top. He whistles at Chingar as the two embrace. He looks Gordo up and down. Gordo goes in for an embrace but the man sidesteps him.
Creeper
Yo, Joseph! Sorry sorry..El Chingar! What brings you here?
El Chingar
We came out here to train with you. Gordo over there has a fight coming up against some crazy irish fuck.
Creeper
Oh thas right thas right. You do that greased up man grab stuff now. Well, you came to the right place! I'm actually about to start a session right now.
Creeper claps his hands leaving Chingar confused, as he heads to the middle of the yard.
Creeper
Alright alright, listen up. Break time is over, time to get back to the session.
All the men lining the yard stop what they're doing. They form a circle around Creeper as Chingar and Gordo watch on.
Creeper
Alright now, at starting position. You're going to pivot your left foot at a ninety degree angle, with your right foot forward. You're going to slowly go down, like you're always down for your homies since day one.
The group led by Creeper slowly go down, as he lets out a a long whistle going an octave down. After a pause they all go back up as Creeper lets out a whistle an octave up.
Creeper
Good, good! Next up, grab your weights. The five pounds, we don't want you guys pulling a muscle in your trigger arms. We're going to put your fists together and elbows up. Now you're going to lean to the left (the group all lean) and lean to the right (the group continues). Remember to keep your chins up, you can't feel the power unless you feel the burn!
Chingar breaks through the group, stopping Creeper mid lean.
El Chingar
What the fuck is this? I thought you were legit?
Creeper
I am legit! I've left that life behind, and now I'm bringing the homies inner peace.
El Chingar
Inner peace? Ta loca inner peace! We have a fight coming up, and we came to prepare. I thought you were the homie Creeper?
Creeper drops his weights, as everybody stops to stare at Chingar.
Creeper
Hey! Don't you ever question my love for the homies! That's why I'm out here.
(Creeper calms down and picks his weights back up)
Ever since the doc diagnosed me with a hyper thigh…(pausing to think on how to pronounce the word)
Hypo-thermi-,hypo-tham, hypo...I got a neck thing. Ever since I was diagnosed, I realized life was too short, and I need to do what I can for my community.
Just give it a try, I think you'll be surprised by the results.
El Chingar
Fine!
(He whistles over at Gordo who waddles over to join the group)
Creeper
Alright, everybody on your bikes!
(the group and Gordo all get on a bike)
For this next one we're going to work on inner peace. Because through inner peace you're going to find inner strength, and that inner strength will turn into..outer...strength
The group start pedaling as Creeper walks back and forth surveying them.
Creeper
Nice and slow. Just a little warmup. You're cruising through the hood on a nice sunny day. Oh no! Your tia's Chihuahua got out and it's chasing you, pedal a little faster.
(the group speeds up)
Good, nice and easy. You're on the way to the homies sisters quinceanera, think clam thoughts, think how you're going to approach your homies cousin with the weird tooth. Oh no, your homie calls you and tells you he's out of beer.
Creeper walks to each biker and hands them a six pack of Modelo. He hands one to Gordo who fumbles it almost dropping it.
Creeper
Alright, now, you're going to slowly breath in and breath out. When you breath out I want you to put the modelo on your shoulder, working both your cardio and your upper body strength.
The group follows the instructions. Before he can get the beer to his shoulder, Chingar grabs Gordo off the bike.
El Chingar
No, we're done! I need an actual trainer. A real O.G.
Creeper
I'm disappointed. I thought you were open minded, but I guess not. Lucky for you I love the homies, so I do have somebody you can call. His name..
(whispering in Chingar's ear)
Poco Suerte
The homies let out a gasp at the sound of that name. A quiet "Poco Suerte?" is heard from afar as everybody is staring, and the scene fades out.
Toluca Lake, Los Angeles, California
Chingar and Gordo pull up to a semi nice house in a gated community. They walk up to the door and ring the doorbell. A large man opens the door, towering over the two. He stands there in silence
El Chingar
Uh yeah...I'm here to see..Poco Suerte?
The man steps back allowing the two entry. As they walk into the room, there are many men hanging out on couches and half broken furniture, counting money and other things. Smoke fills the air as Gordo starts coughing. They approach the end of the room where an older man with a long beard and an all black suit is sitting.
El Chingar
Ah yes...Poco...Poco Suerte?
Gordo coughs some more
El Chingar
(nudging Gordo) Shhhh. Hold it in if you have to!
The man in the suit whistles, as a door behind him is opened, then closed. They don't see anybody walk out. From behind the sitting men shuffles out a tubby four foot-five inch man. He has on kaki shorts that go to his feet. A white wife beater and a black cargo jacket over it, a floral print bandana around his head, and a crudely cut in tear drop carving on his face. The main in the suit gets up, giving him his seat.
Poco Suerte
(sniffs)
Ay, what you want foo?
El Chingar
Ah yes, we're here..humbly! We are here before you, in hopes of learning the ways of-
(Leaning in giving Poco Suerte before)
I feel like I've seen you before...aren't you..
El Gordo
(Interjecting)
It's the Leprechaun from the wrestling show!
Poco Suerte
Hey! I don't do that anymore!
El Chingar
Oh dude, I didn't know you can talk? Hey where is your shillelagh?
Poco Suerte jumps up pulling out a butterfly knife and spins it around
Poco Suerte
You wanna get stuck foo!
El Chingar
(taking a step back)
No no no no! We don't want any trouble. We just want to learn how to fight like a crazy person. We'll even pay you!
Suerte puts his knife away and sits back down.
Poco Suerte
Well why didn't you say so! Alright, I'll train you. Your first lesson is...A SURPRISE ATTACK!
All the men jump on Gordo and Chingar as the scene fades out to commercial.
It is exactly thirteen hours after one of the most brutal beatings in AWF history. Phil Goode has just been discharged from Mt. Sinai Hospital in Chicago, Illinois, and he is propped outside in a wheelchair… by the designated smoking area.
Phil Goode
(Huffing on a Lemon Haze TKO cartridge while trying to remain calm) It’s always ONE step forward… and then ONE knee back. No matter how hard it might be, sometimes you just gotta be the last to arrive and the last ONE to leave.
With the swiftest of fade in’s, a bulky HUD appears along the four sides of the frame. It shows the amount of life that Goode has left following the disgusting attack on PT7, his actual net worth (which is definitely in the seven-figure range), a radar that tracks his every last movement, his respect level (in AWF), and the current time.
Both armrests belonging to the wheelchair are occupied by abnormally long and slim bottles. They have mushroom-like caps that do more than just contain the contents within, and a humongous logo that spells… HOMUNCUMILK.
Phil Goode
(Simultaneously shot-gunning the beverages) AHHHHH… shit dude, I feel like a new man! (gulp)
Goode’s life bar has now grown immensely. It started at a concerning 15% but then (after a double shot of milk) it rocketed to an almost healthy 75%.
Phil Goode
(Slowly standing up from the wheelchair) I don’t even need this anymore. I gotta call Tommy.
Goode reaches for his phone in his mustard-colored velour sweatpants and struggles to find it for a moment. He pulls his phone out and begins dial a number.
Phil Goode
(Goode doesn’t even look while he presses the buttons) 6… 7… 8… triple 9… 8… 2… 1… OH goddamnit. What’s the last number man what the f… (breathy sigh) Maybe I’ll just call Tony?
Phil Goode
(Attempting to dial another number) 2… 8… 1… double 3… 0… 8… double 0… fo…
The phone rings. The cellular device rings again. The mobile connection device rings for the last time. It gets picked up on that ring.
?
(With another particular Houston cadence) Befo’ I came up in da game these hoes didn’t show no love!
Phil Goode
(Clearly caught off guard) Uh... I’m sorry to hear that… I guess. Is this Tony?
?
(With a shit-ton of digital reverb and delay) MIKE JONES! MIKE JONES! I bet dey change dey mind when dem eighty-fo’s come rolling up!
Phil Goode
I… do not doubt that at all Michael, my sincere apologies for your troubles with the ladies but… I gotta get ahold of someone. Thanks.
Mike Jones
(Spitting with a sped up southern twang) Hit MIKE JONES on da the low cuz MIKE JONES bouta to blow!
Phil Goode has had enough of Michael Jones’ antics and ends the call abruptly. He redials MIKE JONES’ number but this time, he changes the area code and replaces the fo’ with a 2. The phone doesn’t get the chance to ring because of how fast it is picked up.
Phil Goode
(Super-duper confuzzled) Hello? Hi? Please, can you tell me this is Tony? I feel like it's been on a mission looking for this guy.
Tony
Yes, it sure is. (With a specific Georgia accent)
What can I do for you? I’m kinda surprised you reached out boss.
Phil Goode
(Extremely frantic and stressing out) Hey man, look… I’m in Chicago and I’m at this hospital right now, I’m all banged up. I got banned from Lyft and Uber for some reason, and I don’t know who to can take me to my hotel. I know you have connections from Vinewood to Vice County, so do you think you can help me?
The voice on the other lines examines the situation further. He is hesitant to offer assistance and it shows.
Tony
Mhmmmm, I don’t think I have any buddies in Chicago at the moment, sorry pal. You mind me asking what happened? Maybe that can aid my search? I’m just super shocked… it’s been a while man.
Phil Goode
(Quickly agitated and quick-tempered) Lemme make this long story short. This guy who really believes he’s Walker, Texas Strangler… tried to make himself famous last night. This commando chump interrupted the best match of the night, MY MATCH… with this giant freak that everyone seems to love; Big H.
Tony
Big Horny? Big Hormones? Big Hhhass?
Goode chuckles a bit but is still in some pain despite slurping on that super drank.
Phil Goode
No. Big Homunculus… but that’s beside the point. This other guy really fucked me up. He did a number on me last night man.
Tony
Oh… interesting. (Spiteful) I know a little homegrown Georgia boy that you did the same thing to… unfortunately. You had his number since the first episode of Tuesday Night Primetime. And then on the second episode… you really dug in on em. You dialed up on all cylinders and you showed em how to be a real soldier in the field. I don’t think he ever forgave you. I don’t the fans did either. You know… they hate to see their military get kicked down. So… I’m sorry kid, but this aint your dear buddy Tony from around the way. THIS IS TONY SAVAGE. Do me this one favor. Go to hell you miserable sumabitch, I’m sure Lucifer has it nice and toasty for you. Fuck you Phil Goode. You will never be a champion.
“Fuck you Phil Goode. You will never be a champion” plays in his head like a sampleable loop while he realizes that he was not only hallucinating but he wasn’t even holding a real phone. The pain and displeasure, however, is 100% real. A hospital band is still wrapped to his wrist and his physical attributes are all clearly printed. He has been limping and hobbling around a local T-Mobile for an eternity. With no ride and no phone, Goode approaches a representative that has been watching him for the last 20 minutes and says…
Phil Goode
(Totally serious and stern) I need 15 of your most expensive phones ASAP.
T-Mobile Rep.
(Rightfully skeptical) Ahh… ok let me get this straight, you want 15 IPhone 11s?
Phil Goode
(Like an obnoxious, snobby, piece of Iowa Park trash) Make it 16 just because you want to question “The Greate Guxxe Gampedee”.
Per request, 16 brand-new IPhone 11s are brought to the front desk. “Guxxe” waits patiently for each phone to be activated and protected with an Otterbox case. He creates a new Gmail account and starts downloading Uber Plus on every last one of the devices. As soon as the app downloads on each phone, “The Greate Gampede” calls for a driver and relaxes the buzzing noise of 16 different Uber notifications.
Automated Text Message 1/16
Hi Phil! Your Uber driver Greg is on the way. For more push notifications, please click the link below. Enjoy your ride with Uber Plus.
“Gampedee” walks out of the store with two arms worth of phones and sits on the curb peacefully. Injured knee and all.
Crossfade from the scene to a view of the ring, where Johnny Manziel is already in the ring.
Mark Beverly: The following contest is the Debuter’s Dance triple threat set for one fall! Introducing first, in the ring: JOHNNY! MAN! ZIEL!
The crowd responds with a bit of a disregard as El Chingar leads El Gordo out with an obvious look of frustration as he beckons his recruit out. One smack to the back of the head does the trick, and Gordo leads the pair with a hand where he was hit.
Mark Beverly: Being accompanied to the ring by El Chingar: EL! GORRRRRRDO!
Gordo attempts to slide under the ring but his stomach gets somehow caught on the apron? Chingar has to help push him into the ring and untangle him from the awkward situation.
The lights in the arena dim as "Foggy Dew" starts to play over the speakers, most of the crowd in the arena tonight are singing along with the song. as Foggy Dew fades out we hear Conors walk out music start to play.
The crowd goes absolutely unglued for the Mystic Mac, whose theme is BLARING out of the speakers around the arena now. But he isn't walking out...the crowd dies down a little as the theme song is interrupted by none other than Conor McGregor. Conor is in his home office wearing what appears to be the finest suit that money can buy, both of his UFC belts over his shoulders with his feet on his desk.
Conor McGregor
Oi Oi Phillyyyyy!
The crowd comes unglued again...they fuckin' love Conor.
Conor McGregor
You should already know by now, I ain't in Philly tonight. But that's because of two major fookin' issues I got here. Number ONE. This if free fookin' TV, I ain't a free TV fighter. I am a Pay Per View caliber fighter. The money maker...nah fook that last one right off. I AM MONEY! Should put me on the hundred dolla bill instead of whatever geezer they 'ave on it.
Conor smirks, taking his feet off the table, both belts still over his shoulders.
Conor McGregor
Number TWO. You really t'ink I am that fookin' daft that I am gonna show up on TV and ruin my image? Nah fook all that. People should PAY to see what I can do in that ring of yours. I ain't some opening match motherfookers. I am the MAIN EVENT! You wanna try and put me in this fight with two other people who 'aven't even proved what they can do? You really want me to go out there and risk my fookin' life with some nobodies? Nah fook all that. I show up when its the right time for ME to show up. Not when the AWF management feels like puttin' me in a "Debuters Dance"...what the fook even is that?
Conor laughs to himself.
Conor McGregor
So you two enjoy ya little...circle jerk, or whatever the fook it's called. I'll show up when the AWF management puts me in a match worth my fookin' time.
And with that, McGregors video feed is cut.
Another downpour of negativity for the Commissioner as he comes through the curtain with a microphone in hand. Glaring around the ring, he steps to either side of the stage and forces the competitors inside the ring to wait before and obviously peeved Austin takes centerstage.
Commissioner Austin
Since all of you done pissed me awwwf! And I mean every last one of you Philadelphian swine! This is supposed to be the birthplace of America?! Hell, son, that’s why this country’s gone to shit! I mean look at ya! You make me sick!
Even louder are these boos, Austin’s scowl only going.
Commissioner Austin
Ya done pissed me off, and goddamn if I don’t wanna see someone get their head chopped off!
A sick smile turns Austin’s face.
The lights cut throughout the arena.
When they return THE JUDGE IS STANDING IN THE CENTER OF THE RING!
Ding!
Jim Ross: That’s a seven-foot-two, four hundred ten pound man!
Immediately Gordo hollers like a little girl falling off the swingset and turns to exit the ring, but The Judge is horrifyingly quick on his feet for his size and catches the waistband of Gordo-- IN ONE MOTION HE’S IN A FULL NELSON -- HE THROWS GORDO INTO MANZIEL!
Cut to the outside, where El Chingar has taken to getting far from the ring.
El Chingar: Orale!
With that, he hops the barricade and sprints out of the arena like Usain Bolt.
Cut to inside the ring, as El Gordo gets lifted into a double-chokeslam grip -- AND THROWS HIM ACROSS THE RING! Manziel is up BEFORE THE BIG BOOT SENDS HIM FLIPPING AND TURNING IN THE AIR!
Another double-chokeslam grip on Gordo --PULLING HIM UP WITH EASE THEN THROWING HIM ALL THE WAY OUT OF THE RING AND A QUARTER WAY UP THE RAMP BACK FIRST!
Manziel is knocked the fuck out and can’t do shit when The Judge lifts him over his head like Bane would Batman -- AND CRACK HIS BACK OVER THE KNEE!
The Judge stands only to press the foot hard against Johnny’s heart.
Filipe Santana: ONE!
TWO!....
THREE!
DING DING DING
A whip of the body turns his body around to the hard camera in one motion.
A close up shot of the man from the chest up.
No emotion can be seen through the mask.
Just the stare.
Everything goes black.
The Judge d. Johnny Manziel & El Gordo in 1:27
Fading back into the scene, the funeral has moved to one of the fields situated in the Hardy Compound. The rain is still falling like bullets, however the various guests share umbrellas for shelter. As the camera pans around the gathering, we see a large hole in the ground next to a pile of fresh, wet dirt. The guests talk between themselves as a man in his mid-fifties steps forward, his long, soaked hair draped thinly down his back and over the shoulders of his now see-through shirt. In a thick Baritone voice, he gains the attention of all.
Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam
Ladies and Gentlemen, silence please.
Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam calms the crowd as the six large pallbearers begin their walk to the gravesite, Jeff’s coffin balanced on their shoulders.
Mag Aluf offers a bro-fist as they pass him, as his way of thanking them for travelling from Alberta.
Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam
Yes I understand, That every life must end. As we sit alone, I know someday we must go.
Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam begins reciting as the pallbearers place the coffin onto the supports, ready to be lowered into the grave.
Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam
I wonder everyday As I look upon your face, Everything you gave And nothing you would take. Nothing you would take, Everything you gave
Mag Aluf, Albert, Matt and the Dudleys proceed to each take a shovel and begin filling the grave with the fresh dirt as Jeff is finally laid to rest in the earth. The unrelenting rain pelts the sodden soil, making it that little heavier, although the task was already fairly heavy for a variety of reasons.
Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam
Nothing you would take. Everything you gave. Hold me 'till I die.
The men finish filling the ground, levelling off the dirt and replacing their shovels. Mag removes the gold chain from his neck, he presses it to his lips, holds it to the sky and drops it onto the grave, before walking back to the rest of the guests.
Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam
Meet you...On the other side.
Eddie Vedder bows his head and steps back. Mag finds himself standing next to an incredibly large bald man, outfitted with various ball-tipped labrets jotting from his lower lip.
Mag Aluf
Ay bro, you’re a big-ass dude, bro. You here for Jeff or the puss bro? These things are like shooting clunge in a barrel bro.
Prince Albert
Got all the puss I need brother. I’m here to pay respects.
Mag nods a little with the man.
Mag Aluf
Yeah bro… Same here bro. Puss is good and all, but death is like, sick man. Fuckin’ dope, bro.
For the first time in recent memory, Mag actually seems slightly uneasy, most likely due to the sheer size of this unit next to him.
Mag Aluf
So, how’d you know my dog? Never saw your gigantoid self around the flat.
Prince Albert
Yeah… not spoken to Jeff in years. Think last time I saw him was in a place called RPW. He was a real good kid, he had potential like I’d never seen… I know his life was on a downward slope but I never thought he’d axe himself off like that. You can’t help but feel like you should’ve done something you know? I have access to a lot of money at the moment, maybe I could’ve reached out? Helped? I dunno.
Mag’s eyes widen slightly at the mention of ‘help’, given Mag’s involvement. Ultimately though, he doesn’t really give a shit - You kill yourself, you’re a fucking loser bro.
Mag Aluf
Yeah man, sure. How much money do you mean bro? Because I can get you a sick fuckin’ deal on the ‘ole disco salt - you get me bro? You get me? D’you get me dog? It’s of paramount fuckin’ importance you get me bro.
Mag twitches a little as he ends his short tangent, he’s got a problem, people. Albert just glares at him in disbelief.
Prince Albert
Are you fucking kidding me? Did I just hear you right!?
Albert stands, looming over Mag.
Prince Albert
Let me tell you one thing right now, friend, there’s only one person who gets to call me ‘Dog’, and it’s not you!
Mag Aluf takes a steady step backwards, bringing his open palms up towards his chest.
Mag Aluf
Ay bro, chill man, okay? It ain’t a thing do-bro.
Mag’s never actually felt the need to watch his words before so the experience shakes him slightly. The usual confidence Mag holds doesn’t seem to stay with him when face-to-face with someone of Albert’s stature. Mag’s demeanour changes, not that Albert would know.
Mag Aluf
Listen Bro. Shit is fuckin’ whack right now, alright? A couple weeks ago I was living the fuckin’ easy life, not a single fuckin’ worry. Then suddenly my fuckin’ bro, my fuckin’ Jeff dies. I didn’t have shit except that fuckin’ dude, man. Shit, bro. Now I live in a fuckin' gym ran by a man I'm fairly certain is a sex offender and I rub up against dudes covered in fuckin' baby lotion for a living.
Albert looks to calm down, looking down at the smaller man before him with sympathy. He nods a few times slowly.
Prince Albert
I’m sorry. I can imagine that hurting. How did you end up meeting Jeff anyway?
The scene transitions via a wave, the usual transition used in TV and films to denote a flashback - whatever they’re fucking called.
Jeff Hardy’s house
Cameron, North Carolina
We see a young woman in a maid outfit dusting various pieces of Jeff Hardy’s shite artwork, as well as an assortment of replica championship belts, one for every real title Jeff had won at the time.
She hears a glass shatter and runs to the source of the noise, a look of panic on her face.
Woman
Irving!
She rounds the corner to find the cause of the smash. Jeff Hardy stands there, holding a small child, no older than 2 years old. On the floor lies the remains of a glass tumbler.
Jeff Hardy
Sorry to startle you Holli, I knocked a glass over and didn’t want little Irving to stand in it.
Jeff hands the child to Holli, who was about to crouch down to clean the mess.
Jeff Hardy
Don’t worry about that Holli. You just look after my little buddy here.
He smiles at Irving, Irving smiles back at Hardy.
Holli
My apologies Mr. Hardy, I appreciate you giving me a job and allowing my son and myself to live here. You honestly saved our lives after his father left.
Jeff offers a small dismissive wave.
Jeff Hardy
Holli, you’re one of my oldest friends - my home will always be yours, and your Irvings.
Jeff finishes cleaning up the glass shards and drops it into the closest trash can. He pats Holli on her shoulder and ruffles Irving’s hair before setting off.
Jeff Hardy
If you need me, I’ll be in the lab.
Holli walks to a small side room which houses a small cot-bed and is adorned with various colourful doodles, designs and stuffed toys. A Hardy Boyz branded mobile hangs above the crib. Holli places Irving into the crib, laying him down and kissing his head.
Holli
Oh how I must thank Mr. Hardy for all he’s done for us. Despite the Meth Lab in the basement - which is incredibly difficult to clean on account of the extremely volatile and flammable chemicals and the illegality of it all, which does add a weight to the old moral compass - this really is a great deal we have here.
She spins the mobile and kisses Irving again before leaving the room, turning the lights off as he does so.
Irving awakes at an unspecified amount of time later, to the sound of a loud boom followed by screaming and bright lights surrounding him. He looks through the slats in his crib to see the hallway outside of his room is almost completely engulfed in flame, pieces of the ceiling hanging on by the electrical wiring of the property. Holli runs towards the room but is caught by falling debris and pinned to the ground. She desperately tries to reach for her child but is unable to due to the crushing weight bearing down onto her small frame. Irving cries as the fire crackles outside of the door.
Suddenly, the window smashes! In jumps Jeff Hardy! He runs to Holli to help lift the debris from her but is unsuccessful due to the weight and heat radiating from the burning ceiling supports.
Holli
Please… Irving…
Jeff gently kisses her hand before standing, turning to grab Irving and taking him to the window.
Holli
Irving… Mommy.. Loves y-
Irving watches as his mother is engulfed in the flames and the house collapses on top of her while Jeff carries him to safety. Once outside, Jeff can be heard almost crying whilst speaking to Matt.
Jeff Hardy
What about Jack, man? Where’s Jack?
Matt Hardy
I don’t know man! The Lab just went up! Hey is that a kid?
Jeff turns and picks up Irving.
Jeff Hardy
He was my maid’s son… His home is with me now, and I’ll raise him as if he were my own.
We wave transition back to Mag Aluf at the funeral.
Mag Aluf
‘09 was a fuckin’ mad one, bro.
Albert just nods, slowly, his face contorted into an expression of bewilderment. Everything he had just listened to was the most obviously fictitious bullshit he’d ever heard in his life. That story would mean Mag Aluf is 11 years old. Albert puts his head in his hands, and breaths out.
Prince Albert
Why do I meet such strange people?
Priscilla Kelly
Doggy!
And at that, Albert perks up, a big smile on his face, his tongue dangling out of his mouth as he pants like a dog. Mag Aluf grimaces. Priscilla Kelly moves over to the pair, long red hair billowing down a very beautiful black dress, fighting tightly to her figure, and showing off plenty of her pale white skin.
Priscilla Kelly
The vending machine swallowed my quarter. I need you to either punch the glass in, or rock it til my Fanta falls down. I’d do it, but I hear that Vending Machines kill around 2 people a year, and if that shit tips over, you have a much better chance of surviving it than I do. I was willing to let you come to this dull fucking thing, so it’s the least you can do for me.
Prince Albert
Yes Mistress Kelly.
Priscilla glances over at Mag Aluf momentarily. She gives him a small smile, before her eyes involuntarily scan him up and down.
Priscilla Kelly
Aren’t you the new guy? You clocked Eclipse with that selfie stick last week, right?
Mag Aluf is taken aback for a moment, he’d never set eyes on a being such as Priscilla Kelly, a woman who actually seemed to have a presence.
Mag Aluf
I’ll be honest but I don’t have a fuckin’ clue what an Eclipse is and I was off my fuckin’ nut on some Grade-A Co-Cah-Een-Ah. But if you think that shit was cool then fuck yeah did I do it, selfie sticks are sick, br-
Mag has to catch himself. Today was definitely a day of firsts for him, he’d seen a corpse flung like a catherine wheel, he’d basically met Eddie Fuckin’ Vedder of Pearl Jam, been told not to call someone dog and actually found the first person he doesn’t feel should be called Bro. Was Mag a feminist now? Probably not but Priscilla Kelly is hot so who fuckin’ knows what’s going through his mind - I don’t and I fucking made him up.
Priscilla Kelly
Oh, okay. Well, if being off your nut on that shit means more results like that bitch Eclipse getting her skull caved in, then I’m the gal you want to impress, cos I can have plenty of that shit sent your way. That is of course…
Priscilla reaches out and squeezes Mag by the balls. He holds in a squeal the best he can, as Kelly clutches his testicles tightly in a vice grip, her breathing warming his nose as she gets up close to his face.
Priscilla Kelly
If you stay on my good side. You’ll stay on my good side, won’t you?
Mag Aluf glances down to his big ‘ole balls and magnum dong, and by extension Kelly’s hand. He barely contains a squeal but by god he manages it.
Mag Aluf
I’ll kill Eddie fuckin’ Vedder if you want.
Priscilla Kelly
I mean- umm, well, I didn’t ask for that. Or anything remotely like that, but it’s nice to know what lengths you’d go to for me. I think we’re on the same page.
She releases his ballsack finally, and Mag lets out a puff of air. Priscilla turns her back to him as she starts to walk away, turning her head to give him one last look.
Priscilla Kelly
By the way, you’re really packing down there. If you ever want to stop by the house, I can do a lot more to those balls than squeeze ‘em.
Priscilla sends a wink his way, before turning and walking off with her doggy in tow.
Mag watches as they leave, silently. Kelly seems to walk in slow-motion as Mag attempts to take in as many of her features and details as possible, He’d never felt something like this before, his heart beating like he was back in elementary school, sniffing glue in the staff lounge. He pulls out his phone, and quickly types in a number before holding it to his ear.
Mag Aluf
Hey bro, yeah I need a ride back to Alberta… Yeah, Alberta, Canada you fuckin’ pedo. And get me some Durex - I’ve just met the future Mrs. Aluf… Some guy called her Mistress Kelly… Yeah that’s the one… She did what? Bro that’s sick… Yeah… Bro, I’d drag my balls through a mile of broken glass to sniff the tire of the garbage truck carrying her used tampon… And yeah, Peking duck bro, the fuckin’ spread here was shit.
Mag hangs up and turns to see Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam typing on his phone.
Mag Aluf
Hey! Eddie fuckin’ Vedder of Pearl Jam!
Eddie turns to face where the voice originated, he offers a wave towards Mag as he continues walking. Right into oncoming traffic. Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam is hit by a speeding car, his body rolling onto the hood of the vehicle before being flung into the middle of the busy road. Scratched and bruised, he struggles to get to his feet causing him to crawl back towards the safety of the compound, unfortunately as he is so low to the ground, the driver of the 18-wheeler driving in that lane couldn't see him. Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam lets out a bloodcurdling scream as his head explodes under the tire of the truck with a quick crack and wet squelching.
Mag Aluf
Holy fuckin’ shit bro! Not Eddie fuckin’ Vedder of Pearl Jam!
Mag pulls out a baggy of his signature blend cocaine and takes a fat rip.
Mag Aluf
Fuck sake, he was gonna teach me how to play Corduroy from the 1994 album Vitalogy.
We fade out as people rush to the now-headless corpse of Eddie Vedder while Mag walks away in the background.
INT. Backstage - NIGHT
Spud sits by a watching on in terror as Orange Cassidy and Laci Valentine are beat down, Panda has his hand on his friends shoulder drink in hand also watching along. In the background Ziggy flirts with a female stage hand and Fringe further in the background is playing with wall paper.
As multiple paramedics quickly get Orange Cassidy backstage to the Best Friends, 1 grossly under-qualified, barely 18, medic haphazardly gets Laci onto a stretcher and awkwardly wheels her up the ramp, even bumping her on the barricade on the way up.
Spud runs to just past the curtain. Laci's stretcher is pushed through the curtain and the medic accidentally tips it over. Spud and Panda run over and help the medic stand it back up.
Spud
Is she gonna be okay.
Medic
I dunno?
Panda
Where's the ambulance?
Medic
It'll be here in half an hour.
Spud
Are you serious! Fucking, half an hour.
Medic
Sorry dude....
Spud gets angry with the teenage medic but takes a deep breath to think through the situation.
Spud
We'll take it from here mate. PANDA, ZIGGY!
Panda stands to attention like a good soldier, Ziggy is still flirting with the stage hand.
Ziggy
Yeah baby, I'm Rockstar Spud’s best friend, he's always getting us into little adventures, I usually save the day. No biggy.
The stage hand caws and blushes.
Spud
ZIG, NOW!
Ziggy
Looks like it's time for Ziggy to save the day again. Wait right here, okay beautiful.
The stage hand giggles and Ziggy moves over to Spud and Panda.
Spud
Right lads, you need to empty the back of the van. FRINGEY! What do you need.
Fringe looks up from the wallpaper and slowly assesses the situation, this a man on a crazy amount of downers like Xanax and Weed.
Fringe
(Slowly and Zen)
Zig.... Get my bag.... I need 3 aspirin, 2 tricortirod, 1 of those weird yellow pills we got from the old folks home and Rumours.
Panda and Ziggy both sprint to the van, Spud and Fringe slowly follow. The CRASHES and BANGS of tons of musical equipment being emptied out of the van can be heard.
Panda runs past Fringe, Spud and Laci with an amp under either arm.
Spud
Stick it all in my locker room for now.
Ziggy runs towards the group with satchel and a 12 inch vinyl of Fleetwood Mac Rumours.
Ziggy passes both to Fringe and then gives him 3 different sets of tablets, Fringe balances Rumours on Laci's abdomen, Fringe drops 6 tablets on the record.
Spud and Ziggy watch on in silence.
Fringe uses his watch to smash the tablets into 1 thick powder, he then pulls a crazy straw from his pocket and with precision lines it up.
BEAT
Fringe sniffs the entire powder in one. Panda is running past grabbing more equipment while this is going on.
We watch as Fringes entire demeanour changes, colours become more vibrant, the world begins to move faster and more importantly make sense, it's like that bit in Limitless where the guy takes the Limitless pill.
Fringe
Lets get her turned onto her side slightly and then ease her onto the back of the bus, ZIggy give me a G sharp.
Ziggy picks up a nearby guitar and plays a G Sharp.
Fringe
Spud, remember that note, if any of her breaths or wails hit that note tell me she'll need turning over and alternate care.
Panda grabs the guitar from Ziggy along with various cases of equipment and runs off.
Fringe
Now on 3, we all lift in sync, this isn't gonna work if one of us tries to be a hero and overexerts, we don't wanna drop her. 1, 2, 3.
The 3 lift and carefully get the stretcher onto the back of the Local Leather Tour Bus. Spud walks around to the front of the van, Fringe stays in the back, taking care of Laci.
Fringe
I need the bong and I need the accordion, now.
Spud
DO NOT GIVE HIM A BONG!
Fringe
Get me the bong Zig?
Ziggy takes the bong out of the bag and slides it over to Fringe.
Spud
ARE YOU INSANE, THIS WILL TURN HIM BACK.
Fringe ignores Spud and slowly unscrews the bottom.
Spud
Wait what are you doing?
Fringe
Accordion, now!
Ziggy passes over the accordion and watches on puzzled, Spud also watches on.
Fringe fixes the bong and accordion together creating a ventilator.
Ziggy and Spud both have massive WOW! faces.
Fringe
Elastic band around the head, so it's fixed to her, then I'll be able to control her air flow, lessening any damage, including but not reduced to possible concussive symptoms.
Fringe bundles in the back and fixes the ventilator to Laci's head.
Panda runs back to the van, there is just a small amount of equipment left outside it.
Spud
Panda, keys.
Panda
I'm not going with you?
Spud
I need him (pointing at Fringe doing paramedic shit in the back) and I don't trust him to watch the shit (pointing at Ziggy looking at himself in the van mirror and slowly gyrating). Make sure you tell Lucy what's going on.
Panda agrees and passes Spud the keys.
Panda grabs Ziggy and prizes him away from his own reflection, the 2 move to the back of the van as Spud gets in the drivers seat. Panda slides a bottle of water towards Ziggy in the back before shutting the van doors.
Fringe
Was just about to ask for that, best nurse today Panda mate.
The doors shut and Spud puts his foot down, the tour bus speeds away.
INT. TOUR BUS - NIGHT
Spud drives with focus, every now and then checking on Laci in the rear view mirror. Fringe catches him doing so whilst he gives Laci some water.
Fringe
You're doing great Spud, everything is under control.
Spud seems set at ease.
Spud
How'd you know all this stuff?
Fringe
A combination of 24 Hours In A&E, MacGyver and a shit load of drugs?
Spud nods along as Fringe fixes the ventilator back to Laci's face and lifts the accordion end.
Fringe
Any requests?
Spud
What?!
Fringe
Well to control the breathing I'm gonna have to play it, any requests?
Spud
What do you know?
Fringe
Oh actually just this one....
Spud
JEEESUS MATE, THAT'S HARDLY APPROPRIATE!
Fringe
(Continuing to play)
You know anything on accordion?
Spud
Just that, you taught it to me, SHIT!
BEAT
Fringe
You gonna sing along?
Spud
No, I could never, oh my days, as if you'd even ask, it's bad enough you've gotta play it.
A FEW MINUTES LATER
Spud
(Dramatically singing)
In a tree by the brook,
There's a songbird who sings,
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiving,
Fringe
(echoing)
sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiving,
Lacis breathing makes a distinctively G Sharp sound. Spud worriedly looks up but Fringe cool calm and collective eases her onto her other side.
Fringe
Keep going man.
Spud nods.
Spud & Fringe
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
The pair are having way too much fun for the validity of the situation.
CROSSFADE TO....
Fringe removes the ventilator.
The backdoors swings open and doctors and nurses swarm to the aid of Laci Valentine, quickly getting her out of the van and rushing her into the hospital. Spud sits in the front of the van, Fringe climbs through to sit alongside his friend.
Fringe
You not gonna go in?
Spud
Lucy's already here, she's only allowed one right now.
Fringe
You did good mate.
Spud
Me, what about you, Doctor, Robert Plant, MacGyver.
The pair laugh as Fringe picks up the makeshift ventilator. Fringe opens the glove box revealing a shit load of weed.
Fringe
(Popping some weed into the bong end)
Well how about you play that nice song and Dr Robert Plant MacGyver gets himself good and stoned.
Spud grabs the accordion end and begins to play as Fringe lights the weed.
Crossfade.
Orange Cassidy’s limp body is rolled out of the ring and carried to the back, just like his opponent. The medics go through the curtain and begin to look him over. Realizing that he’ll probably be ok, the medics find the Best Friends and hand him off. Trent and Chuck carry his corpse to the locker room and lay him down across a few chairs.
Some time passes and OC finally comes to, sitting up quickly in the process. The Best Friends rush over their now awake amigo.
Orange Cassidy
What happened?
Chuck
Dude it was crazy! Your match was about to start and then the ref got a DDT from this mask dude and then the mask dude hit you with a diamond cutter....
Orange gets up and slowly stumbles to the door. The Best Friends stand in front trying to run interference.
Trent
Where are you going?
Orange Cassidy
To the trainers room, I feel like shit.
Chuck
Well then let us…
Orange slams his fist into the door.
Orange Cassidy
Haven’t you two done enough? You’re the whole reason why DDP attacked me! You were so boneheaded that you stole a title from god damn Diamond Dallas Page and it made me lose the match! Get out of my way.
Orange pushes past his friends to make it out into the hallway. He walks slowly, clutching his neck, looking for the trainers room. After aimlessly wandering for what seems like half an eternity to OC, he finally finds the trainers room. Outside the room about ten feet from the door Albert and S2 are arguing about something while Cranston is trying to keep them apart. As OC gets closer to the door, head trainer Reginald Nowinski walks out of the room.
Reginald Nowinski
Hey man, I’ll look you over in a little bit. I gotta go grab some stuff for Priscilla and then it’ll be your turn.
Reginald continues going wherever the hell he was heading to as Orange walks into the trainers room and takes a seat in a chair. The whole room is no larger than a walk-in closet, so Priscilla Kelly is lying on the table covered in cuts and bruises, no less than five feet from Orange. Despite the physical pain she must be in, Priscilla looks… happy. A small smile rests on her face, almost passively, as she idly lolls her head until she spots Cassidy. The smile on her face grows bigger as she becomes immediately aware of his presence.
Priscilla Kelly
Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes Mr. Cassidy.
Orange Cassidy
I’m gonna take it by your smile that you won your title match?
Priscilla Kelly
Of course I did. It was never a question. I didn’t just win the battle either, I won the war… or atleast... I will.
Priscilla notices that Orange’s expression seems to be one of exasperation.Though, Orange was hardly an open book with his emotions.
Priscilla Kelly
You look, upset. Sorry if that wasn’t the way you wanted things to go in your match…
Orange shrugs and leans back in his chair..
Orange Cassidy
I mean obviously that’s not the way I wanted it to go down…
Priscilla lets out a sigh.
Priscilla Kelly
I thought you of all people might not really care about the means to the end y’know? Interference is just like, part of the game…
Orange Cassidy
Not when they’re attacking me…
Priscilla Kelly
What!? They attacked you!?
Orange Cassidy
Yeah… didn’t you see?
Priscilla Kelly
No, I was preparing stuff! Oh those dumb mother fuckers! DOGGY! S2! Get in here now!
A rather worried Prince Albert and S2 move into the room, Cranston moves in too, shaking.
Cranston
Do you need me too Mistress Kelly?
Priscilla Kelly
No Cranston fuck off.
Cranston
Oh thank god.
Priscilla Kelly
Did you two dumb pieces of shit attack Orange!? Really!? That was the opposite of what I asked you to fucking do!
S2
We didn’t attack Orange!
Priscilla Kelly
That’s not what he said S2! He just said you wasted him mid-match! Is Laci Valentine in the Chamber now!? God dammit!
Orange blinks in her direction.
Orange Cassidy
DDP knocked me out with a diamond cutter and I only woke up like ten minutes ago...Did you?...Did they?...What happened?
Priscilla Kelly
Wait what? DDP? He’s not on my fucking payroll.
Prince Albert
Mistress… DDP interfered in the match too, before we could, and they clocked Cassidy. But don’t worry, we undid that mess and clocked Laci. Cassidy won, trust me. I placed him on top of her for the pin myself.
Albert turns to Orange.
Prince Albert
You heard it here first buddy, you’re in the Chamber. And you have Priscilla to thank. They were her orders.
Orange looks up from counting on his fingers trying to piece things together in his head. He turns to Albert and then to Priscilla.
Orange Cassidy
Thanks?...Thanks?...Why did you do that?
Priscilla Kelly
Because, now you’re in the Chamber, and I get to spend more time with you.
She grins at Cassidy. S2 is already filing out of the room, Albert following close behind, but not before shooting a rather hate-filled look Cassidy’s way.
Orange Cassidy
If you wanted to spend more time with me we could have gone to get ice cream or gone for a drink or something, but the chamber? If you wanted a match we could have just asked Bret Bruce.
Priscilla Kelly
You think Bret Hart would give me what I want in this place? You haven’t paid much attention then sweetheart. Everything I’ve ended up with in this place I’ve fought tooth and nail for, and Bret’s tried stopping me every step of the way. And besides, we can go for an ice cream or a drink any time, when will we get another chance to fight in an Elimination Chamber together?
Orange Cassidy
Next year? I’m gonna assume it becomes an annual thing, these gimmicks always do.
Priscilla Kelly
I don’t wait that long Orange. It sounds like you don’t want to be in there with me? Is something wrong?
Orange Cassidy
It’s not that. I feel bad for Laci, she’s good people and I kinda screwed her.
Priscilla Kelly
You didn’t screw her. Your bone head friends screwed her. That match was gonna be a mess anyway, it was ruined from the start. If not for me, and my meddling, your own friends and their dumbassery would’ve cost you that match, I just set things right. I made it so you came out on top of that dumpster fire.
Orange Cassidy
Yeah I guess. They always mean well though. Say, what do you mean spend time with you? I’m gonna be fighting for your title.
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah honey, but you won’t win. I’m just too good.
Priscilla leans over and gives a playful punch to Orange’s arm.
Priscilla Kelly
But how cute will it be when it gets down to just me and you? I’ll try to finish you with a roll-up, if you’d rather that? I don’t want to DDT that pretty face onto the steel.
Orange folds his hands in front of him and leans forward in his seat. He is staring at his hands as if deep in thought.
Orange Cassidy
A week ago I almost died. I’ve tasted my own blood more times than I could count. I’ve been burned, scarred and left for dead and people still call me a joke. I may not have liked the way I got into the match, but now I’m in it and I’m gonna give it everything I have. If you want to spend time together we can do that some other time because come the Elimination Chamber I’m either leaving as Champion or I’m not leaving at all…
Orange slowly lifts his head up.
Orange Cassidy
Sorry it’s been a long couple of weeks.
Priscilla just lays on the table, looking inquisitively at Orange. She raises her eyebrows, before her lips curl into a smile and she leans towards him.
Priscilla Kelly
God I wanna suck your dick right now.
Orange blinks at her.
CUT
Barron Boneius sits in a nice jacket at a bar. Snivley sits next to him on a high stool, even on the stool he just peaks over the bar top. A bartender comes over and hands them both a beer. He pauses before giving the drink to Snivley.
Bartender
You old enough?
Snivley
(Pause) Yes.
Bartender
Ok.
He gives the drink over and walks away. Boneius connects two straws together and put the straw in Snivley's drink so he can reach it. The two both take swigs. Boneius takes out a post it note, written on it, “Eye think you suck”.
Barron Boneius
After these boozy beverages shall we bounce over to brew a blast?
Snivley looks up at him confused.
Barron Boneius
Lets go stick this on Black Clyde's car.
Snivley pauses, then nods along and smiles. Boneius looks at him, scowling.
Barron Boneius
What?
Snivley
Nothing, it’s very evil.
Boneius continues to scowl.
Snivley
Master, might I speak freely?
Barron Boneius
No.
Snivley shuts up and drinks a little more.
Barron Boneius
Fine.
Snivley
Ever since you met that, that, woman, you’ve been different master.
Boneius raises his hand to smack Snivley but holds it in the air.
Barron Boneius
This note is purest evil! How dare you suggest I’m not evil.
Snivley
I didn’t –
Barron Boneius
I’m evil, I’m more evil than ever!
Annie emerges from the side and takes Boneius’s hand.
Annie
I leave for 2 minutes.
The sound of Annie’s voice soothes Boneius, he lowers his raised hand.
Annie
No sign of Leslie yet? She was meant to meet us here. She wanted to talk tactics for the big six man tag team.
Barron Boneius
I've beaten the rebel Raging Dead before, the obnoxious orange is old news and the rubbish rocker Spud is past his prime.
At the mention of Spud Snivley smiles. Annie laughs. The more Boneius hears her voice the more his expression turns from a scowl to a smile. The bartender comes over, with a drink already in hand.
Bartender
Courtesy of Bob.
The bartender points to a larger man sat a few stools down who smiles at her. Annie pushes the drink back.
Annie
Tell him it's fine.
Bob
Tell me yourself sweet stuff.
Bob is suddenly sat right next to her. Boneius leans to the side so he can see Bob. Bob smiles.
Bob
Oh shit, you’re that fucking Hollywood guy from the TV.
Bob turns back to Annie.
Bob
Bet he must treat you real nice.
Annie
Yup.
Annie turns to Boneius who is starting to look annoyed.
Bob
I’d treat you real nice.
Annie
Sure.
She doesn’t even turn to him. Bob looks at Boneius.
Bob
No hard feelings man, just cos there’s a goalie doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take a shot right. And oh mama, is she one fine goal post.
Annie
Ignore him.
Bob hears this and turns back to face the bar.
Bob
(Whispering)
Stuck up bitch, it's a compliment.
Boneius immediately tenses. Annie takes his arm.
Annie
Ignore, him.
Bob gets up to take a call and walks out. As he’s leaving he turns to the bartender.
Bob
Get me another beer.
He turns to Boneius.
Bob
I’ll be here for a while.
As soon as he’s left Boneius gets up and heads to the door.
Annie
Boneius stop.
Barron Boneius
I’m just going to ask him to leave.
Boneius walks out and around the side of the bar to an alley. Bob is stood there on the phone.
Bob
It didn’t work, I tried but –
He sees Boneius and hangs up.
Bob
What the fuck you doing out here.
Barron Boneius
Leave you lesser leech.
Bob
Make me pussy.
Bob swings a punch and clocks Boneius. Bob immediately starts wailing on him. He’s a surprisingly competent fighter. Boneius blocks a few hits but takes most. Boneius manages to trip him.
Barron Boneius
Stay down.
Bob spits out some blood and gets up and charges him. He throws Boneius to the ground. Boneius is able to throw him off, but as Boneius rolls over Bob gets onto his back and hits him over the head with a pipe. Boneius goes limp for a moment, giving Bob the opportunity to use the pipe to get Boneius in a choke hold.
Bob
What the fuck are you even meant to be. You’re not a man, you’re some fucking Hollywood fake. I bet your dad must be real proud.
Boneius is looking directly down at a puddle, at his reflection. A drop of blood falls into the puddle. The reflection turns a sickly red. As if his skull face has a bloody red hand print on it.
Boneius throws his head back, hitting Bobs. Bob grabs his nose as he falls off Boneius. Slowly Boneius gets up. His movements are different. Slow, deliberate, cold. He lifts up the pipe as Bob gets up. Bob swings a punch, Boneius dodges gracefully and swings the pipe at his arm. The sound of bones breaking echoes through the alley as Bob lets out a yell. Before he can finish this cry Boneius rams the pipe through Bobs knee.
Boneius grabs Bob by the neck, silencing his screams. Bob looks into Boneius’s eyes. They are glazed over, his expression blank. With his free hand Boneius quickly strikes Bob in the ribs. Again the sound of bones shattering reverberates around them.
Bob
(Whimpering)
Please, please.
Boneius walks deeper into the alley, dragging Bob by the neck before smashing him against a metal dumpster. Boneius grabs the man’s head and smashes it into the metal over and over again with brutal speed and force. He then drops Bob, so he slumps down the bin.
Bob
(Weak, through a bloody mouth)
It was just a job, I swear, plea -
Boneius slams his knee into Bobs head. Bob falls to the ground. Boneius puts his foot on his throat and pressed down. Annie and Snivley emerge from round the corner. Annie gasps as she sees the bloody alley and Boneius at the end, coldly looking down at the man as he crushes his throat.
Annie
Boneius!
Annie runs over him.
Annie
Boneius stop!
The glaze lifts from the Barron’s eyes. As is awakening from a trance he steps backwards, taking deep breaths; eventually he falls to the ground. Annie goes up to him and kneels by him. Snivley looks on. Annie turns to him.
Annie
Go, go give Clyde that stupid note or whatever, just leave.
Snivley scuttles away. Boneius kneels in silence. Annie holds his head in her hands.
Annie
What did you do Boneius, what did you do?
CUT TO
Boneius back at home stood in his garage gym. The door is open, its dark, but the sound of the rain outside is heard. Annie walks over to him.
Annie
I can’t always be there to calm you. I don’t think you should fight, it’s not safe.
Barron Boneius
I can control it.
They both stand in silence looking out into the darkness.
CUT TO
Snivley is stood outside Black Clyde's gym, he has the note in hand. After a long moment, he crumples up the note and throws it aside. He pulls out a crappy old Nokia phone and scrolls through his contacts till he sees the name "Dr Stefan Camer" and dials. Quickly the call is answered and we hear a familiar voice.
Dr Stefan Camer
Vhat does my least favourite creation vant now?
EXT. BAR - NIGHT
Orang Cassidy stands before a rather rough and ready looking bar with Harley Davison motorcycles as far as the eye can see parked outside.
OC checks his phone, a text from Rockstar Spud ‘wanna maybe come to my gig? It’s at The Blue Roadhouse’. Orange looks up at a black and blue sign ‘The Blue Roadhouse; Motorcycle and Working Mans Club’, Orange shrugs and walks past the bikes to the door.
INT. BAR, BACKSTAGE - NIGHT
Rockstar Spud peers through a curtain at a sea of people, angry, leather vest clad, gorilla looking men and sat propping up the bar is Raging Dead, he is offered a wide birth by the other men, regardless of the fact he’s not in motorcycle gang, he’s fucking Raging Dead, not to be messed with. Swigging Whiskey.
Spud is still staring out.
Fringe
What are we waiting for?
Spud
OC, when I asked if he was coming he replied with a half assed thumbs up. In OC talk that means I wouldn't miss it for the world Rockstar Spud, let’s be best friends.
Fringe
You sure you’re not making it more than it is.
Spud
We’re gonna be mates.
Fringe
We need to get out there.
Right as Fringe talks the door swings open and in steps Orange Cassidy. Spud see’s this a smile forms. Every set of eyes in the room turns to him, his denim on denim is a stark contrast to the leather vest clad men populating the room.
Spud
Well what are we waiting for let’s get on.
INT. BAR - NIGHT
All the bikers stare on as Cassidy moves to the bar. Orange walks up to the bar and stands directly next to Raging Dead, he gives the bartender a look as though he should already know what he wants. The bartender glares at OC also, you can cut the tension with a knife.
Raging Dead
He’s with me, he’ll have orange juice.
Orange Cassidy:
Make it a screwdriver
Raging Dead looks at Orange with a raised eyebrow as Local Leather awkwardly bundle out onto the stage.
The band all look somewhat nervous at the size and demeanour of their audience.
Crowd Member
Play a song then assholes.
The other bikers laugh.
Spud tries to laugh off the comment and the band begin to play this:
As the band is playing, to a less than mixed response, the bartender drops OC’s screwdriver in front of him. Orange throws a dollar on the bar as he picks up the glass and brings it to his lips.
Raging Dead
Alright let’s…
OC holds up his hand as he finishes his drink. Once he’s done he turns to RAGING DEAD.
Orange Cassidy:
I don’t like you and you don’t like me. I can put that aside for the purposes of trying to win the match, but if you try to get in my way I won’t hesitate to leave you lying in your own pool of blood. We on the same page?
Raging Dead seems a bit taken aback by the chattiness of the King of Sloth Style. As he goes to take a drink from his whiskey he lets out a one word response.
Raging Dead
Sure.
Boos rain down and beers begin to be thrown towards the stage, Spud isn’t deterred, Local Leather are used to negative reactions. Spud glances to the bar and see’s Dead and OC interacting, he smiles at this whilst singing.
The band finish playing and the crowd are dead silent.
BEAT
Crowd Member
Less of the gay shit dude!
Ziggy angrily jumps in front of Spud onto the microphone.
Ziggy
The fuck did you just say cunt?
Crowd
Gay….
Ziggy leaps from the stage and charges at the crowd member with reckless abandonment and bass in hand.
Spud
Oh fuck, here we go….
Spud readies himself for a fight, knowing he’s going to have to back up his friend.
Ziggy in his sprint is tripped by another biker on his way to the heckler, though in his fall he flies through the air cracking his bass over the head of his intended target, knocking himself and the other man out.
Bikers from every corner of the room, turn to the stage, Local Leather are fucked.
Orange lights up a cigarette, takes a long drag, grabs his empty glass off the bar and nods towards local leather.
Orange Cassidy:
Come on. Trust Exercise.
Orange begins to make his way towards the stage.
Spud smiles and flips from the stage onto a crowd of bikers, knocking them down. Fringe and Panda use this opportunity to run away carrying handfuls of equipment. Spud stands up confidently after taking down so many bikers in one swoop, until a large biker lifts him up by the shirt. As all seems lost for our championship tuber, the large biker gets a tap on his shoulder. As the biker lets go of Spud to turn around, a glass is smashed across his head. The biker crumbles to the ground to reveal the assailant as one freshly squeezed Orange Cassidy.
Spud and Cassidy share an approving nod and as the bikers around begin to regain their composure and get to their feet. Spud and Orange stand back to back fists raised ready to swing for the fences.
Raging Dead pays little attention to the chaos unfolding around him, just slowly swigging his whiskey.
Spud swings, 1 biker down, OC slowly moves out of the way of a punch, the biker overextends annd knocks himself to the floor. Each time 1 gets up they are brought down by ‘Freshly Squeezed’ and ‘The Frontman’.
4 Bikers rise at once, Spud and Orange gulp, Orange puts his hands in his pockets, this confuses the bikers on his side, Spud turns his back, this confuses the 2 on his side. In 1 syncronised motion Cassidy hits his patented hands in pocket double leg drop and Spud hits a double Pele Kick.
Orange and Spud take a second to admire their handy work.
Dead watches the fight through the mirror behind the bar and notices something the smaller men fail to see….
Spud and OC are both gripped by 2 huge bikers from behind in full nelsons, a chain can be heard being dragged along the floor. Another biker approaches slowly wrapping the chain around his knuckles.
Biker
You 2 little punks pull this shit in our house.
Spud and OC close their eyes tightly.
‘SMACK’
The biker with the chain is completely laid out by a massive Raging Dead lariat. Spud and Orange use this opportunity to wriggle from the grasp of the full nelson.
Raging Dead
I don’t want either of you getting hurt before Tuesday.
Spud and Orange nod, as Orange casually sweeps the legs of the bikers that were holding them. The fallen bikers are then met with a double chest stomp each from Spud. Raging Dead starts throwing right hands at anything that moves Orange and Spud are taking out as many bikers as possible with the leg sweep-double foot stomp combo. Unbeknownst to our heroes, the bikers are getting angrier and forcing them into the center of the bar. The number of bikers is quickly becoming more than they can handle as they are now almost back to back again.
All at once the bar door swings open, taking the attention of all in it, a shadowed figure in a leather vest and camo shorts.
Shadowed Figure
(Thick New York accent)
WHAT IN THE BLUE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?
The bikers surrounding our heroes seem scared and subservient to the figure, parting as he moves to the centre of the room. As low lights shine on the man we see he’s wearing a cap so his face is still shadowed but his body is becoming more and more visible, he is rather rotund but has surprisingly excellently muscular calves. The Shadowed Figure chuckles.
Shadowed Figure
Well I’ll be damned! It sure has been a while, hasn’t it?
Spud and Orange Cassidy look really confused but Raging Dead cracks a smile as he slowly recognises the voice, Dead looks at the surrounding bikers vests.
Raging Dead
’98 I think?
As the final 2 bikers part a light swings from above and we see BULLY RAY in full Aces and 8’s garb as are all the bikers.
Raging Dead
How are ya Bubba?
Bully Ray
It’s Bully now, what are you and your boys drinking then Dead?
The rest of Aces and 8’s watch on in amazement as their leader marches the 3 men who just fought them to the bar. Ziggy wakes up on the floor. Garrett Bischoff was the one who got his arse kicked the worst because fuck Garrett Bischoff and his shitty tattoo.
The Aces and 8's theme plays as our heroes share a beer with Hells Kitchen/ Dudleyvilles favourite son.
Fade out.
The stage is what we fade into.
Philadelphia welcomes Raging Dead well as he emerges from the crowd in his trenchcoat, taking his time around the stage then down the ramp.
Mark Beverly: The following six man tag team contest, scheduled for one fall, is your main event of the evening! Introducing first, from Ozone Park, New York, weighing two hundred eighteen pounds: RAAAGING! DEEEEAD!
Jim Ross: Our six man tag main event is next!
A crossfade into the arena to see that Alaric's theme song is just wrapping up as he does a few celebrations in the ring, gaining absolutely zero fan response. It hurts just a little, but he tries to remember the words told to him by Priscilla Kelly, as he turns to face one of his two opponents of the night, Eclipse, who stands in the center of the ring facing him.
As his music dies down, the pair await their third opponent, the very interesting and… unique… Beer Can Man.
But his music doesn't hit.
The other two stand, in anticipatory silence, just waiting for the Beer Can Man…
But nothing. He doesn't emerge.
Mark Beverly looks confused, as he turns to the official for the match, Cal Elton, and shrugs. Cal isn't sure what to do, until suddenly, a beer can rains from the sky and clonks Mark Beverly on top of the head. Mark clutches at his skull as he tumbles out of the ring, before Cal, Alaric, and Eclipse all turn to look at the trajectory of the can and where it came from.
Cal Elton: Ah shit.
A second beer can smacks Cal between the eyes, and he flings to the mat in the same dramatic manner as Marv from the Home Alone films. Running through the crowd, not down one of the aisles, just clambering through the seats that the actual fans are sitting in, is Beer Can Man. Over his head is a Beer Hat, and in his hand he carries a crate of beer cans, before using his other to grab another can, and launch it at the ring.
Not wanting a repeat of what happened at Gold Rush where an air-born object split his skull open, Alaric manages to dodge out of the way of the cans. Eclipse tries too, but as the BCM gets closer and closer, she can only evade for so long before a can strikes her shoulder, knocking her off balance, before another can whaps her on the head, sending her careening out of the ring.
Beer Can Man has finally reached the front row, and climbing up onto the barricade, he pulls out another can, before cracking it open, and guzzling it all down in front of Alaric. He tries to throw the empty beer can, but it just goes nowhere as it's too light. Not letting this ruin his momentum, he grabs another beer can, and charges at the ring.
He's inside, ready to throw it at Alaric, who zig zags the best he can. BCM tosses the beer can, and that scene from the first Spider-Man occurs, where Green Goblin throws those razor blade things at Spider-Man in the burning building but he manages to flip and evade them. Imagine that, but with beer cans.
BCM only has one beer can left, but Alaric is upon him, grabbing the beer can as well, and the pair have a tug of war for who can take control of it.
Alaric nearly has it!
BCM nearly has it!
This is a WAR for the last beer can!
Until Eclipse comes out of nowhere with a trash can!
She slams it over BCM's head, watching as he collapses into a heap and rolls out of the ring, before turning towards Alaric, and bringing it hard over his dome! Alaric stumbles backwards, as Eclipse drops the trash can to the mat…
Gut kick to Alaric! She sets him up over the trash can…
PILEDRIVER!!! Alaric slams head first into the steel trash can!!!
He lays over in a slump, as Eclipse covers him!
Cal counts the pin…
Cal Elton: ONE!…
TWO!…
THREE!
Eclipse gets it! She jumps to her feet in celebration, fist pumping the air, proud of her first win in the company! She gets to the top rope, and taunts the booing fans.
...but her music hasn't hit.
She looks confused, looking from the titantron, over to Cal, who himself looks a little unsure. Suddenly, the timekeeper gets his attention.
Timekeeper: Cal! CAL!!!
Cal Elton: What?
Timekeeper: You never called for the bell!
Eclipse stops in her tracks, horrified, as the crowd suddenly burst into laughter. The She-Borg turns slowly, eyes filled with rage, as she glares at Cal, who simply gulps and puts his hands up apologetically.
Eclipse: You stupid mother fucker!
Cal Elton: I'm sorry I'm sorry!
Eclipse: Call for the fucking bell!
Cal does so, and finally, the bell rings.
Eclipse runs over, and pins Alaric again…
Cal Elton: ONE!…
TWO…
SINGAPORE CANE TO ECLIPSE'S BACK!!! She rolls off of Alaric in pain as Beer Can Man is upon her, raining down cane shot after cane shot, creating nasty red lash marks across her with each new swing! He aims at her head, and tries to finish her off, but she ducks, and fires a nasty Roundhouse Kick at BCM's head!
He tumbles back into the ropes, and she tries to follow up with a huge SPINNING ROUNDHOUSE KICK!!!
But BCM ducks it! He takes aim, and slams the Singapore Cane HARD right into the temple of Eclipse!!!
She hits the mat, and he covers her!
Cal Elton: ONE!…
TWO!…
KICKOUT!!!
Beer Can Man sits up, his mouth already around the straw of his beer hat, taking a few sips before letting out a chuckle. His demeanour is not the one of a person who believes they are in a high octane match at that moment in time.
He gets to his feet and measures Eclipse as she starts to get to her feet… he charges at the ropes, and on the rebound...
IS OBLITERATED BY A BICYCLE KICK FROM PRINCE ALBERT!!!
Eclipse is almost in shock, as BCM hits the mat hard and looks to be out cold. Herself and Albert share a look at one another, Eclipse looking shocked and on edge. She almost readies herself to be whacked by Albert too… but he doesn't. He just quickly and quietly rolls out of the ring, seemingly leaving Eclipse to her devices.
The She-Borg stands there, confused for a few moments, before she looks down at the unconscious Beer Can Man, and moves over to him to claim the pin…
BACK STABBER!!!
BACK STABBER FROM ALARIC OUT OF NOWHERE!!! Eclipse clutches her back, and Alaric catches her as she falls, rolling her into a CRUCIFIX PIN!!!
Cal Elton: ONE!…
TWO…
THREE!
Alaric takes it! The bell rings, and Alaric's music kicks off, signifying that this time, the ACTUAL winner has been crowned! He looks beside himself, in disbelief, but overjoyed with his win, taking to the turnbuckle and raising his arms up high, soaking in the lack of adoration from the crowd. But he cares none, his first victory in AWF has been claimed, and he's done it all on his own merit!
He doesn't notice Albert, slowly moving up the ramp, blissfully unaware that he owes his win to him. And on this, we fade out.
Alaric Dracislav def. Eclipse, & Beer Can Man in 1:12
Fade into a scene.
Outside of a night club a group of achingly trendy, attractive twenty somethings reach the front of the line and the bouncer gives them a brief glare before shaking his head.
Hip Young Guy
What bro? Have you seen how young and hip I am? Have you seen how I've shaved my beard into an incredibly thin strip of hair for some reason!? What sort of club is this?
Bouncer
Get with the times, grandpa.
Hip Young Guy
Wh-? Grandpa?
The hip young guy looks down at his hands and sees they are haggard and wrinkly.
He turns to look his hip, sexy friends and instead all of their faces are sunken pits of ancient, crumbling husks. Their cheek bones collapse in on their faces as they crumble into dust and bones on the floor.
Hip Young Guy
What? No! I only didn't keep up with the trends for one week, I've been trendy for so long, please, I can be cool agai-
And with that the hip young crumbles into dust and bones.
Ruxx Rampede Narration
Don't be like this lame motherfucker.
The bouncer opens the door for the camera and it goes, in revealing a heaving club of fun and debauchery. DMX bangs out of the speakers and the bartenders prioritise serving people over chatting to each other. People who don't do that are cunts, right?
Every single one of the partying people are wearing eyepatches with Black Clyde's logo on them.
Ruxx Rampede Narration
So get ya own Black Clyde authentic eyepatch so you don't become an obsolete bitch in the eyes of the universe you dusty motherfuckers.
Ruxx Rampede Narration
We have collaborated with Gucci to make this Black Clyde eye patch. You too can be cool for the price of 7,000,000 dollars. But also you can't put a price on cool. You got the motherfucker or you don't.
With that, onto the stage walks Black Clyde, wearing a purple suit, top hat and sunglasses with a huge grin. As they see him, every woman in the club orgasms and some nearby aeroplanes coincidentally fall out of the sky.
Black Clyde
Hahaha! I have had my eye burned out but have turned a positive into a negative and am fine with the situation. Nothing about this bothers me!
CUT TO
Black Clyde's gym is closing after a long day of iron pumping. He has a dumbbell in his left hand. He flicks the switch to turn off one half of the lights. One of his employees has the keys.
Gym Employee
You lockin' up tonight, Clyde Bro?
Black Clyde
Yeah, good hustle, pass me the keys.
The employee tosses the keys to Clyde, who reaches out to catch them much too early and they hit him in the face.
Gym Employee
Shit!
Black Clyde
It's fine.
Gym Employee
Bro I'm sorry, I-
Black Clyde
It's fine! Go home.
The employee turns to leave, hesitates, then exits the gym.
Clyde is left in the half lit gym with Sussane and the sexy young woman by his side suddenly.
Sussane
What's the matter Black Clyde? I thought you were fine with losing your eye, you used all that money you got from selling eyepatches to get a solid gold replica of your own arms. I've never seen you so happy.
Black Clyde
Possessions are a bandaid, not a cure.
Sexy Young Woman
You made me cum so hard I almost remembered my name, Black. You're still the most shredded love machine in my life.
Clyde goes to put the dumbbell back on the rack and accidentally smashes it through the wall mirror. Luckily there is a second wall mirror directly behind it.
Black Clyde
God motherfuckin' dammit!
He punches a hole through the secondary mirror.
Sussanne
Oh Clyde, I hate seeing you like this, but I know you can do anything.
Black Clyde
Get outta here Sussanne, those coyotes won't chase themselves.
Sussanne
I can see you need some time to yourself, and I was planning on leaving my husband tonight.
Sussanne leaves the sexy young woman looks at Clyde.
Sexy Young Woman
Damn, Black Clyde, even hearing a woman leaving her husband didn't make you smile.
Black Clyde
I got maimed by a boy who has an unhealthy problem with carbohydrates. I'd have to break up every marriage in the land to even think about smiling. Get outta here, sexy young bitch.
Sexy Young Woman
But where will I go? I live here.
Black Clyde
God dammit hoe have I taught you nothing? Sussanne's husband is about to be freshly divorced. Go sleep with that man.
Sexy Young Woman
You're right, I've been taught well.
She pats his rock hard shoulder before leaving the gym.
Sexy Young Woman (O.S.)
Sussanne, wait up! We're going to the same place!
Black Clyde briefly fiddles with his eyepatch.
Black Clyde
I know I'd crush that body dysmoprhic fuck's head between my biceps if only I could perceive depth. I can't even understand FKA Twigs lyrics anymore. Who the fuck am I talking to....
Black Clyde half heartedly throws a power rack across the gym into the unlit, dark half. There's a thud, and a strange but familiar voice squeals in pain.
Black Clyde
Who the fuck…
Black Clyde looks into the darkness of the gym. He hears footsteps as something walks towards him out of the darkness. The footsteps suddenly stop. Black Clyde tenses and looks around.
Snivley
Down here.
Black Clyde looks down to see Snivley is stood right up against his legs looking up at him. Instinctively in the shock Black Clyde kicks him sending him zooming across the room.
Black Clyde
You got 10 seconds before I turn your grey ass to paste..
Snivley gets up and plods over to him, his hands raised. Another voice comes from the darkness. The voice has the strongest most exaggerated German accent imaginable.
I assure you Herr Clyde, you have nothing to fear from us.
Black Clyde
Nah, I ain't getting mixed up in whatever weird shit this is. Tell Boneman to fuck off.
Snivley
He wants peace.
Black Clyde looks at him suspiciously.
My small 'friend' here speaks zhe truth. Zhere has been so much bad blood since your little, misunderstanding
Black Clyde
He locked me in a dungeon!
Vere I'm from, Zhat would be considered a generosity.
Snivley
We have a gift.
Black Clyde still looks very suspicious.
Black Clyde
What?
Out of the shadows steps the mystery figure. A tall blond man in a tight black leather long coat. Across his eye is a large scar. He has a wooden box in hand. His fingers long and boney. Their movements precise and deliberate. He opens the lit to reveal a robotic eye sat on a little red cushion.
Me name is Dr Stefan Camer, and I specialise in helping people recover vhat has been taken from zhem.
Black Clyde
Nah, I ain't buying this bullshit
Dr Stefan Camer
I assure you Herr Clyde, zhis is very real.
Snivley
The master of mischief wants to make things even.
Black Clyde starts to walk away from the pair.
Black Clyde
I ain't playing his games, besides, if he wants to make things even, why ain't he here himself.
Snivley
There was an incident. But he sent me, and this very expensive and legal doctor.
Dr Stefan Camer
I have no desire to trick you Herr Cylde, I was paid to help you, and I vill.
Black Clyde feels his eye patch and looks into the broken mirror to his side. Thanks to the breaks in the mirror the broken and refracted reflection makes it look like he has both eyes, till he moves slightly and his eye patch reappears.
Black Clyde
Whats the catch?
Snivley starts running in circles excited, Clyde looks angry.
Dr Stefan Camer
Ignore him, zhis is between us now. Zhere is no catch. You vill have your sight back.
He winks.
Dr Stefan Camer
And a little more. You have a perfect body Herr Clyde, let me help you become more than perfect.
CUT TO
Black Clyde is lying down on a hospital bed. The room around him is dark except for one bright light beating down on him. Dr Stefan Camer walks over in full hospital scrubs.
Black Clyde
Just make it fast.
Dr Stefan injects a needle into the side of Black Clyde's neck. Immediately Black Clyde starts growing weary.
Dr Stefan Camer
I'm afraid it's a rather long and messy procedure. Try not to wake up, I imagine it would be, painful.
Black Clyde closes his eye and falls asleep. The last thing he sees is Doctor Stefan Camer looking down at him with a large drill in hand.
Fade out.
That shows up on screen. José Figueiras comes out and everybody goes bananas.
José Figueiras
I turned Roderick Kross into a car.
Fade out.
Fade into another scene.
The Day Before PrimeTime VIII
Trent and Chuck are walking through an indoor shopping mall. They are ogling various window items.
Chuck
Wait, so why isn't OC here?
Trent
(stuffing a Cinnabon in his face)
I don't know
(chewing)
Something about an old man giving him a weird version of an RKO or something.
The two shrug it off and keep going.
Chuck
Wait so...why are we here?
Trent
I told you, here to pick up women. All the local riff raff-I mean nice women come to the indoor shopping mall during the middle of the week. Mostly moms.
Chuck
Yeah okay..so what if I don't want to do that?
Trent lets out a sigh rocking his head back. He reaches deep into his pockets and pulls out a folded up twenty dollar bill and hands it to Chuck.
Trent
Here, go to the arcade or something. I'll meet you there later.
Chuck runs off giggling.
Trent
Don't waste it all on the crane game! You know those are rigged!
Trent, adjusts his shoulders and his jacket. He slicks his hair back, wets his thumb and finger and glides them smoothly across his perfectly trimmed eyebrows.
Trent
Alright, where to, where to, first.
Trent surveys the stores around him. At one end is a Forever 21
Trent
Too young
He looks at a Marie Calendars
Trent
Too old
He pans over to SEARS
Trent
Too many dads
His eyes land on a Baby Gap
Trent
Just right..
With a getup in his step, he bops over to the Baby Gap, and enters. Walking through the mini isles, pretending to look at things hanging on shelves, while peaking around for prospects, he notices a young woman pushing a baby in a cart. Trent sneakily picks up a piece of clothing, holding it in front of his face and bum rushes right into the woman's cart with her baby in it causing the kid to burst into tears
Trent
Oh my god, I'm so sorry!
MILF
(Picking up her child to comfort them)
Shhh shh it's okay.
(Shooting a look at Trent)
It's okay. You find what you're looking for?
Trent
Ah yes, found what I came for, this…
(realizing what he's holding)
I love my mommy baby romper…
MILF
Oh so, there is a Mrs Walks into Strangers?
Trent
No, of course not.
(Talking really fast)
I mean not of course not like I shouldn't be married, I just mean I'm not here for myself, this isn't for me it's for somebody else..My uh...sister! Yes, my sister's baby shower, is why I am shopping here today right now and ran into you, on this day, here today, at this Gap for Babies.
MILF
Awe that's so cute! I know what it's like to do this on my own.
Trent looks up to the heavens giving a "yessss" look, before snapping back to the conversation.
Trent
I'm Greg by the way. So, all on your own you say?
MILF
Well I have some help, my dad is always helping me out, even if I want it or not. You know how parents are
(she giggles)
Trent
Oh yeah parents are great. I love my mommy, I mean mom. Mother. I love my Mother like a child should love their parent.
MILF
My dad is great too. He's actually around here somewhere. Dad?
Trent
Oh well, you don't have to do that, I'm sure he's busy..shopping?
A man with a hoarse voice calls out. From behind the mother and child walks up one, Diamond Dallas Page.
DDP
You alright hon? I heard a loud crash than you call for me, is every-
(Noticing Trent)
It's you. What? First you take my belt now you want my grandchild? What else do you want from me?
Trent
Whaaat? No, that's crazy. I don't want your grand child I just want your daughter…
DDP cocks his head to the side at the sound of the possible serial killer.
Trent
Wait, that's not what I meant
Trent slowly backs away as DDP comes forward
Trent
I was just walking through, and I noticed your daughter and I thought…
DDP
You thought what?
Trent, at a loss for words, throws stuff off the shelves and takes off out of the store. He sprints down the mall pushing people aside as other give him space. He turns to see nobody behind him, and slows down to a light jog. Before he can turn his head back forward he crashes into a large man almost knocking himself out. As he lay on the floor his vision clears up and looks upwards at a scarred man with a handlebar mustache.
Jake Roberts
I should have snapped you like a twig when I had the chance boy
Trent jumps to his feet and screams for Chuck who is nowhere near. Trent continues to run down the mall screaming for Chuck, he runs right by the arcade without noticing.
Inside the arcade is Chuck who's feeding quarters in a crane game for prizes. He slowly moves the stick over a white teddy bear holding a heart.
Chuck
(to himself)
Oh Trent is going to love this, that'll show him. I know I'm a master at these games.
The claw slowly reaches down and grabs a hold of the bear by it's head. It makes it's way over to the corner and releases. But the bear hits the corner of the chute and falls back into the bin with the other animals. It lay motionless, like it's mocking Chuck with it's black lifeless marbles for eyes.
Chuck
(Banging on the glass)
I want the bearrrrr!
Chuck shuffles in his pockets for more tokens, but comes up empty. He searches his back pockets to no luck. Chuck hit's the floor and starts feeling around the dark undercarriage of the machine for a loose token, while panicking. While he's on the floor a man with two women walks up to the machine.
Scott Hall
Now you see ladies, the key isn't the claw itself. The key...is how you use the stick.
The girls giggle as he lowers the claw and easily grabs the bear, dropping it into the chute. As he picks up his prize, Chuck stands up.
Chuck
Hey! That was mine!
Scott Hall
You snooze you lose chico
Chuck
No!
With that Chuck tackles Scott Hall, who easily gains control of Chuck and wraps him in a headlock. While gasping for air Chuck silently screams to himself for Trent.
Back in the center of the mall Trent is running, pushing over women and children out of the way. As he slides across a corner DDP tackles him like a linebacker as the two go flying into a Wetzels Pretzel cart.
DDP
(Choking Trent with his bare hands)
You think you can get away with taking my title? Then come in a perv out on my daughter? And threaten my grandchilds life? You think you have tough competition in your ladder match? You aren't going to even make your ladder match if I have it my way.
DDP continues to choke Trent as he begins to fade. At a last ditch effort Trent reaches for DDP's nips and gives em a twist. DDP let's go of Trents neck to protect himself. Trent rushes off leaving DDP in the wreckage.
Trent finally makes his way to the arcade to find Scott Hall and Chuck tangled up. He runs up to them and begins to pry them apart.
Chuck
Trent! Trent no! The bear! Get the bear!
Trent grabs the bear from Scott Halls grasp. Chuck elbows Scott Hall in the neck and stands up free from his hold. The two run off together with the bear as their prize.
Fade to commercial.
A returning fade.
Leslie sits in the gym tapping her knees anxiously. Kolotov walks in, they both look at each other for a long moment in silence.
Kolotov
I got the part.
Leslie lets out a cheer, jumps up and runs over to him for a massive high five.
Kolotov
Hold on, they want me in for costuming soon, so if I take the gig, I’ll miss this match.
Leslie Jones
Shut up, nope, I ain’t letting you throw this away. I’ll fight solo this week.
Kolotov smiles.
Leslie Jones
It’s a four way against three folks I ain’t ever heard of. I’m Leslie motherfucking Jones; I think I’ll be ok.
They both laugh.
Kolotov
I’ll be back next week I swear.
Leslie Jones
I know K.
Kolotov
You want to get some training done now?
Leslie Jones
Yeah sure let me –
Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out and looks at the screen. Her face goes pale.
Kolotov
Leslie, you ok?
Leslie Jones
Yeah, sorry I gotta go.
Leslie hurriedly walks into one of the side room. She takes her phone out and opens it. We see a news alert on the screen. Leslie opens her phone to a live broadcast.
News reporter on phone
As the search for Micheal Chiklis continues more sad news comes out of Hollywood. Police officials have confirmed that SNL stars Pete Davidson, Kenan Thompson and Cecily Strong are now also reported missing. While unconfirmed, the police are not ruling out that these disappearances may be linked. Anyone with any information is urged to come forward.
Leslie puts the phone down. She looks out the glass window of the side room and sees Kolotov practising with a punching bag.
Annika walks out from the shadows in the side-room. Her arms are folded, she looks cold and speaks quietly and plainly.
Annika
My mother used to make me clean the gutters every day as a child, she would force me up there and make me clean for sometimes hours. I never understood why; then the storm came. They said it was a once in a lifetime event, unprecedented, I watched houses get flooded and people lose everything they held dear; I watched people die. But we survived. Because my mother knew, she could feel it coming, somewhere deep down she knew, she couldn’t stop it, but she could be ready. Consider this a friendly warning Leslie, ready your house, because a storm is coming.
A fade out on this ominous warning, into a shot of the backstage arena.
José Figueiras walks into people talking bullshit
Person 1
Not just instant ramen
Specifically cupped instant ramen
the comparison, I mean
there's a difference
I'll take Cup Noodles over a Ramen packet any day
Person 2
why
Person 3
Yeah why
Person 1
I just think the flavor is better kept in the cup. I'm presuming this is because the noodles sit in the seasoning once packaged and that
Whereas with packets you have to add the seasoning in the cooking process
As such, the noodles have marinated in their seasonings
Thus: a more flavorful snack
Person 4
If you're eating it plain i understand
but if i try to jazz it up the packet is easier
José Figueiras
DID SOMEBODY SAY JAZZ?
José Figueiras pulls out a massive speaker from his back pocket and plays this:
Crossfade to the arena where Shinsuke Nakamura is already mid-entrance for this fatal four way, the broadcast fading into the arena just at the right time to catch his ring entry and usual dramatic pose.
A healthy pop resonates as Chris Hero’s music begins, it growing when he actually appears on the stage. As always, he offers up an elbow pose --
AND HE’S SUDDENLY ROLLING DOWN THE RAMP AFTER BEING CLOBBERED IN THE BACK!
BY LESLIE JONES! THE CAMERA CUTS TO SHOW HER!
The crowd can’t help but support the presence of the Saturday Night Live! and Hawaii Bone-O star, even as she stalks the rolling body closely behind. Hero attempts to get up halfway, only for her stiff gutkick to send him rolling all the way to the end. A reckless right hand cracks the jaw of Hero, on all fours in his second get up.
Cut to Shinsuke Nakamura, inside the ring, who is casually watching the ordeal whilst leaning on some ropes.
Cut back to Leslie Jones, who now has Hero up in a delayed scoop -- SLAM! Just on the barricade right outside the ring.
Cut to Shinsuke who shrugs, then suddenly his eyes go wide!
Cut back to Leslie, with TRENT BERETTA RUNNING FROM BEHIND! DOUBLE HANDED BULLDOG ON THE OUTSIDE!
The crowd goes ballistic, especially as Beretta stands to his feet with a taunt for the crowd. But a baseball slide to the dome drops him as fast as he made an impact!
Shinsuke is the assailant, who continues his slide out of the ring, to lay in a foot kick to the face of each of his three downed opponents. He continues his attack on Trent, pulling him by the hair and into the steel steps! They don’t break apart but move from their steady position on the impact! Beretta sits against them and becomes the target as Nakamura lifts Hero and tosses him into his body!
BUT LESLIE REFUSES TO BECOME A THIRD TARGET, GRABBING NAKAMURA BY THE THROAT SOON AS HE TURNS TOWARD HER!
SHE’S ON ONE LEG BUT AS SHE LIFTS HERSELF UP, TOO DOES SHE HAVE THE KING OF STRONG STYLE!
AND TALK ABOUT STRONG, THE WAY SHE CHOKESLAMS HIM AGAINST THE SIDE OF THE APRON!
BRUTALITY ON SHOWCASE, SHE DOESN’T LET HIS BODY FULLY SLINK, JUST TO CHOKESLAM ON THE ARENA FLOOR!
With nothing but bodies down around her, Leslie hollers out a beastial like shriek and the crowd bloody eats it up.
One by one -- first Shinsuke, then Chris, then Trent, she rolls everyone into the ring before entering it herself.
Ding!
Beretta’s the first nearly to his feet, but Leslie is off the ropes and drops him with a Bradshaw-like Clothesline from Hell! Almost on cue, Hero has pulled himself up via the ropes, only to be caught with a big boot to the side of the face that sends him between the top and middle ropes to the outside! Nakamura somehow has gotten his feet and to a charge -- just to have that back blasted again with the catching, swinging STO!
Yet again, Leslie is the only one standing and so one more shriek emanates. Trent’s the first back up, again, and this time he’s off the ropes behind her and coming back with another double handed bulldog -- but she catches it and him in a back suplex position!
She keeps hold of him hoisted up, charging toward the ropes so as to throw him out of the ring viciously!
BUT HE SPINS IT AROUND! INVERTED TILT-A-WHIRL DDT ON LESLIE JONES!
Her body rolls to the other side of the ring and nearly out --
UNTIL CHRIS HERO STRIKES HER IN THE FACE WITH ONE OF HIS DEVASTATING ELBOWS!
Her body lays now diagonal to the nearest set of buckles as Shinsuke has managed his way up, and Beretta allows for him to climb the second rope nearest her -- KNEE DROP TO THE FACE!
Jim Ross: LESLIE JONES IS DOWN! LESLIE JONES IS DOWN! LESLIE JONES IS DOWN!
As Nakamura rises, Beretta stops the waiting and runs in for a dropkick to the face that connects and pushes him into the corner! Noticing Chris’ rise onto the apron, Trent is off the set of ropes perpendicular (alternate interior angle) into a beautiful triangle dropkick to the mush!
By now, Shinsuke has risen back to his feet and Beretta is there to whip him -- but it’s turned around -- just to be turned around again -- then turned around again but this time Nakamura changes the momentum to send Trent into the buckle just left!
Immediately upon hitting the buckle with his belt is Beretta met with a running, rising knee to the face! Leslie is on her knees - KINSHASA! WHAT A KNEE TO THE FACE! KNEES AND DROPKICKS JUST FLYING ALL OVER THIS PIECE!
Turning his attention back to Beretta -- the drop toe hold sends Nakamura face first into the middle buckle! Trent backs away only to return: BRONCO BUSTER! AN INVERTED VERSION WITH SHINSUKE’S POSITIONING BUT IT ARGUABLY DOES MORE DAMAGE THIS WAY!
Nakamura proper dazed from the clipping of the back of his neck, Beretta has enough time to place him on top of the top rope, facing inside the ring. Would you look at this -- a superplex set up!
All seems to be going Trent’s way!
The arms where they need to be!
A grip of the tights!
But a punch to the gut halts the process! An even stiffer blow collides with the ribs, and with Beretta’s history here in AWF he has to recoil on this one! A headbutt nearly sends Trent flying off the second rope, but somehow he’s managed to grab the top rope in his grog!
Chris Hero! From behind, does he come to meet them, climbing the second rope but from the outside! A punch to the back sends Shinsuke right into the returning headbutt from Trent, whose grog is only worse afterwards! Shinsuke pushes him! There Beretta goes!
Back elbow to Chris Hero -- no -- do you know who you’re talking about?! Seeing it coming, Hero is just able to duck his head underneath the attacking arm, and with a certain haste--
HE GRABS HIM BY THE WAIST!
AND HE TAKES HIM!
TAKES HIM?!
HE TAKES HIM!
BACK SUPERPLEX TO THE OUTSIDE!
GOD THE BUMP SHINSUKE TAKES! THE MIDDLE OF HIS BACK CRACKING ACROSS THE TOP OF THE BARRICADE, AND HE FALLS BACKWARD ON HIS NECK INTO THE CROWD!
HERO’S TAKEN A HELL OF A BACK BUMP OF HIS OWN ON THE OUTSIDE, HIS EYES WIDE AS HE LOOKS AROUND LIKELY NOT EVEN THERE, GASPING FOR THE AIR HE’S JUST LOST!
There’s not quite any actual awareness in Trent’s eyes as he rises to his feet, but there’s plenty in Leslie’s who grabs him in a double choke grip! Over the top rope!
NO! Trent catches the top rope with both hands, just enough to bring him to a standing position on the outside apron!
Beretta catches her with a shoulder block off her first charge, so she instead leads with a size twelve boot (men’s U.S. size too, this woman got some feet on her I’ll tell ya that) but he moves out the way!
She’s caught up on the top rope, and she just can’t seem to get free! Trent wastes no time, climbing to the top rope --
DIVING CLOTHESLINE TO THE INSIDE, TAKING BOTH TO THE MAT!
Cut to Chris Hero on the outside, rolling from his back to his stomach to his back to his stomach all in order to get to the barricade.
Cut to Shinsuke, face-down on the concrete between the sets of fan seating.
Cut to inside the ring, with Leslie Jones being wailed on as with every landed blow does she rise like a defiant demon -- kick to the gut! She’s pushed Trent back, but he kicks HER in the gut in response -- puts her under his legs --
HE’S SETTING UP FOR THAT CRADLE PILEDRIVER!
NO SHE THROWS HIM UP INTO A BACK BODY DROP!
Hero’s on the apron now! Into the ring, he finally succeeds!
RIGHT INTO LESLIE’S GRASP BEFORE ANYTHING CAN BE DONE!
QUICK SNAP!
SATURDAY NIGHTMARE LIVE!
THE FINISHING MANEUVER!
BUT TRENT BERETTA TAKES FAST ADVANTAGE -- DUDEBUSTER! THE CRADLE PILVEDRIVER!
LESLIE BODY BOUNDS UP INTO THE ROPES, SO TRENT COVERS HERO!
Sandra Yandel: ONE!.......
TWO!.....
THREE!
DING DING DING
This time, only Trent Beretta is on his feet, who lets out a hype scream of his own as a reaction to the victory. Proudly does Trent allow Sandra Yandel to raise his arms high over their heads.
Mark Beverly: The winner of this match, TRRRRRENT! BERETTTTAAAAA!
Yet again Trent finds himself on a second rope, but this time to celebrate his win.
Cut to Chuck Taylor running down the ramp, sliding into the ring, and backing into the turnbuckle diagonal. Trent turns after descending from the rope to notice his best friend. Telepathically they click right away, stretching their hands out before meeting in the middle of the ring for a brotherly hug.
Fade out on this moment.
Trent Beretta d. Chris Hero, Shinsuke Nakamura, and Leslie Jones in 7:35
An eerie fade in.
Priscilla's throne has been dragged across the room to where it currently sits on the balcony, looking out across lush fields and meadows. She sits there, covered in bandages and plasters, looking slightly worse for wear after her tough match with the Handicapped Hero Max Ironside, as she takes a drag from her JPS Crushball cigarette. She blows a whispy trail of smoke out into the air above her, watching it dissaperate into the blue sky above.
Priscilla Kelly
Lovely day to go out on, isn't it Cranston?
One of Priscilla Kelly's bigger guards, Cranston, stands behind her, gimp suited up, also covered in bandages. Next to him, stands the comparably smaller Gabe.
Cranston
Yes Mistress Kelly… that is if this works-
Priscilla Kelly
Why wouldn't it work?
Cranston
It will! It will! Of course it will!
Priscilla Kelly
You sent them to the right address, right?
Cranston
Yep. Got the address on it perfect.
Priscilla Kelly
Did you run it through another guy first, Cranston? I don't trust your mental state right now. You got whacked over that noggin quite a few times with a crowbar last week,
Gabe
And you're still nursing that concussion from when Homunculus threw you through our window at the Bash.
Priscilla Kelly
Gabe's right, you are.
Cranston
I uhh- I'm telling you Mistress Kelly, I got it right.
Priscilla Kelly
It better be Cranston. Or I will Fargo your ass into a woodchipper, I mean it.
The door to the room opens up, and in floods the very very large S2, smile on his face, alongside a rather bemused Bill Buttertoes. S2 moves over to her with a rather large lidded bucket in hand, propping it down next to Priscilla, the liquid inside sloshing around. Cranston raises an eyebrow.
Cranston
What's in there?
Priscilla Kelly
Something interesting. It works right? This is the stuff S2?
S2
That is the stuff. Trust me, it works. Like nothing you've seen.
Priscilla grins a wide grin.
Priscilla Kelly
Awesome. Well, this is a real game changer then.
S2
Sure is. Buttertoes got his package too.
Bill unveils a Police Officer's uniform, looking quite confused.
Priscilla Kelly
What am I doing with this?
Priscilla Kelly
Wearing it, obviously. I'll run you through the plan in a second, just let me finish my smoke.
S2
Let her finish her damn smoke, Buttertoes.
Kelly looks back out at the blue sky, her smile ever-present as she blows more smoke into the air.
Priscilla Kelly
Trust me boys, this is my funnest plan yet. But it all counts on Cranston getting that fucking address right. 52 March Street, Cranston! 52 fucking March Street!
CUT TO
52 March Street.
A mailman passes by the very door to that house, slotting a small flyer through the letterbox. From inside, layed on a bed, is an also battered looking Max Ironside. He too is covered in bandages and bruises, but unlike Priscilla Kelly, no smile is to be found on Max's face, nothing even close.
On TV, the adverts switch onto the next programme, the intro to Hawaii Bone-O. Ironside grunts, before switching the channel over, onto an old re-run of Wizards of Waverly Place. He gives in, too depressed to keep looking, and submits to whatever this classic Disney show can throw at him.
Through the house, an equally grey and tired out Rayna Ironside shuffles along in her slippers, over to the door where the flyer has been posted. She looks over at her husband, layed on the bed.
Rayna Ironside
Expecting any Post honey?
Max Ironside
Don't think so.
Rayna sighs, as her sad eyes rest on her husband for a few moments more. She finally peers down to the flyer and picks it up, her eyes scanning the whole thing, and her heart dropping as she does so.
Rayna Ironside
Oh god! Oh no!
Max Ironside
What?
Rayna Ironside
What!? WHAT IS THIS!? THAT BITCH!!!
Rayna runs over to Max, showing him the flyer, and his eyes turn as wide and upset as hers. On the flyer, is the image of herself having the tampon forced into her mouth by Priscilla Kelly, whilst Max just watches on. A speech bubble has been imposed coming from her head, saying 'mmmmm yummy yummy' and another speech bubble from Max reading 'eat it like the dog you are'. Below is the text 'Who's the real coward? The Ironsides have just let this happen to them without a fight! Maybe they secretly enjoyed it! Yes people! These are your neighbours! Sex fiends! Do you want them near your children!? They'll feast on their tampons!'
Rayna Ironside
'These are your neighbours'!? What!?
Rayna charges to the front door of the house, bursting it open to see the very same mailman delivering these flyers to all the houses down the block. Rayna shouts at him, enraged.
Rayna Ironside
What're you doing!?!?
Mailman
Umm- my job?
Rayna Ironside
You can't deliver this shit!? Have you seen what's on it!?
Mailman
I've seen the bills it pays for.
Rayna Ironside
Mother fucker!
Rayna slams the door shut, having gone a beet red, her veins pulsing. Ironside lays on his bed, not looking angry, just more defeated. He slumps even further into his position on his bed.
Rayna Ironside
We need to do something about that bitch! She's laughing at us!
Max Ironside
Just forget about her Rayna.
Rayna Ironside
No Max! Just because you've given up it doesn't mean I have! We can't let her win!
Max Ironside
She sent this to get a rise out of us Rayna!
Rayna Ironside
And it's worked! But she doesn't expect us to fucking act on it! She taunts us from her fancy schmancy mansion, but I bet she'll be fucking terrified if we actually storm over there and do something about it!
Max Ironside
Rayna-
Rayna Ironside
She shoved a tampon in my fucking mouth Max! She made a mockery of me! Of both of us! And now all our neighbours children think we're going to eat their tampons too!
Max Ironside
Rayna! Please! Let's just put those thoughts to one side! We can beat this anger, cos she wants us to rise, and overcoming the anger will be WAY more insulting to her than succumbing to it! This is only fun for her if she knows it's hurt us! Just, let's relax baby! Come on!
Max holds out his arms for a hug. Rayna stands there for a few seconds, looking furious, before her breaths get more and more controlled, and she lets herself fall into Max's outstretched arms. The pair hug each other tightly, and Rayna cries.
Rayna Ironside
I love you so much.
Max Ironside
I love you too Rayna, more than anything. More than anything. And listen, we've got each other. No matter what, we have each other. Okay?
Rayna nods.
Rayna Ironside
Okay.
Max lets his glance move back over to the TV. Alex Russo does a spell on her brother Max, turning him into a clam. Maybe that's in an episode of Wizards of Waverly Place, who knows? It is in this universe. He gives a small smile up to Rayna.
Max Ironside
I might have a nap.
Rayna Ironside
Good, yeah, you have a nap honey. You need one. You look awful.
Max Ironside
Thanks.
Rayna and Max chuckle, as she puts the blanket over him. She sits there with him for a few minutes, watching the TV and stroking her husband, until his snores are apparent. Rayna gets up and starts to move out of the room, until she notices the flyer again. She picks it up and scrunches it up, moving over to the bin ready to throw it inside.
But just before she does, she finds herself unfolding it again and looking at it.
She sees the image of herself being forced to eat the tampon, and that fury just returns. She looks over to the bedroom, where her snoring husband lay, and she knows he's out for the count. He won't notice if she's gone. Letting the flyer drop to the floor, Rayna puts on some boots and a coat, before making sure to grab a baseball bat from the garage on her way over to her car.
And she drives off down the road, her mission set. Next stop, the mansion of Priscilla Kelly.
Fade out.
Fade in. On the screen:
| José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | ÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉ |
| José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | ÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉ | |||
| José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | É | |||
| José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | ÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉ | ||
| José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | ÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉ | |||
| José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | É | ||
| José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | ÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉ | |
| José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | José Figueiras | ÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉ |
Fade out.
Fade into a scene.
Footsteps clack down the hallway, as a rather overworked looking Maeve Shiliko moves through the halls of Priscilla Kelly's mansion, clipboard hugged tightly to her chest. In under 2 minutes, she was to have a meeting with her least favourite member of staff under the payroll of Priscilla Kelly, none other than 'The Scientist' S2. The meeting itself wasn't a problem, Priscilla had given S2 the responsibility of hiring new security staff, as to ensure no more break ins could happen at the mansion like Lt. Andorra and Phil Goode had done, and S2 was set to run down these new hirees to Maeve.
Priscilla, it turns out, was busy, she'd decided to take a rather mournful Prince Albert to Jeff Hardy's funeral in what Maeve thought was a nice act. It was clear Priscilla did care about her staff, she just had a very unusual way of showing it. Regardless, this meant the meeting was down to Maeve to attend in Priscilla's place, and she was ready to expect any sexist, racist, or generally crude remarks thrown her way by S2.
Beefton
Well howdy there ma'am!
Maeve
Oh fuck.
Maeve turns to see Beefton strutting over to her, gigantic cheesy smile on his face.
Beefton
If it isn't my favourite gal this side of our green and blue earth, Baeve. Get it, it's bae, and Maeve, mixed together. Cos you Maeve, are my bae.
Maeve
Beefton I can't chat right now, I've got a meeting.
Beefton
That's alright, I'll treat this conversation like I do sex, and make it quick.
Maeve
How do you ever pull anybody? Even if I ever was interested in you, you would've definitely put me off by now.
Beefton
Well, you said there's no point in hoping for any of that sort of thing between you and me anyway, and whilst that did make me cry, a lot, because I think I am in love with you, I respect your decision. We're friends, and let me tell you, the Beefbuster can be a friend as good as he can be a lover.
Maeve seems a little taken aback by Beefton's confession there, but with how casually he spoke about the whole thing, she feels able to dip past it.
Maeve
Okay. Cool. We're friends then.
Beefton
We're friends, just going on a friend date.
Maeve
Oh, yeah…
Beefton
Thought about where you wanna go yet? It's been a while is all, and I've not wanted to be pushy but, damn am I excited! My uncle suggested bowling? How's that make you feel? Bowling? Getting the ol' juices flowing?
Maeve
Bowling? What, no, I don't really- I've never been bowling?
Beefton
So you never known, you could like it? Could chip in and get you some shoes if that's the issue? I'm imagining it now, we could do that cute thing in all the movies, where you don't know how to bowl, and I have to come over and kinda put my hands on yours and guide you how to do it, but then after you bowl, our hands stay touching, and we lean in close, and-
Maeve
Beefton. Friends.
Beefton
Starring David Schwimmer. Got it! Just friends!
Maeve
I'll think about the bowling Beefton, I'm not gonna lie, I've not had much time to think about it. This job is hectic, I'm running around doing shit for everyone, there's so many jobs for Priscilla, and now I've got to have a meeting with that jack ass S2. I hate being alone in a room with that guy, he creeps me out.
Beefton
Well, I could sit in there with you?
Maeve
Aren't you supposed to be guarding the door?
Beefton
I'm on my lunch break.
Maeve
Then take your lunch break! I'm not gonna make you spend it with me.
Beefton
Woah! Spending my lunch break with you is the best way to spend my lunch break! The only nourishment I need is to breath in the air surrounding the most beautiful ladybabe I've ever witnessed. You ever heard that term? Ladybabe? It's how Australian men refer to women.
Maeve
I don't know if that's true, but I really just don't know about Australian culture, so I guess it could be.
Maeve stands there, looking at Beefton. She sighs.
Maeve
Okay, yeah spend your lunch break with me if you like. I'd really rather have the company when talking to that big bag of shit. So, thanks, I guess.
Beefton
Don't thank me, thank your eyes, for being so damn pretty.
Maeve
Okay Beefton make sure to keep it quiet during the meeting though okay.
Beefton
Yeah alright.
CUT TO
Maeve is sat at a small desk in the middle of the dark room, Beefton off to the side sat on his own desk chair, swinging himself backwards on it and then catching himself last moment. S2 stands at the front, next to a powerpoint presentation on a board next to him, looking quizzically from Maeve to Beefton. Irritation plays on his face, he was clearly hoping to have Maeve alone.
S2
I get why Priscilla wanted you here, but what's Beef Boy doing?
Beefton
Just vibing.
Maeve
That's none of your business S2. You're here to tell me about the new hires, not quiz me about who should and shouldn't be in the meeting.
S2
Fine.
S2 mutters under his breath.
S2
Fucking bitch telling me what to do.
He clicks a remote, and the presentation begins.
S2
So, Priscilla wanted to upgrade her Security Staff, she came to the right guy. I've hired four of the top people you can find in the country, and out of it. These four won't just stop people breaking in, but they'll make it so people won't even be able to have the thought of infiltrating this place without shaking in their boots, and filling whatever room they're in with their terrified sweating.
Beefton
What if they're outside?
S2
Then… I don't know, they'll make a big ass fucking puddle. Alright?
Beefton nods. He tries to imagine the biggest puddle he can think of, but it starts to become too big a thought for him to process, so he has to abandon it.
S2
Up first, we have this intense mother fucker.
S2
Russian dude named Bol'shoy. You see that gaze of his, not a spec of emotion in it right? That's cos this scary fuck doesn't feel emotion. He doesn't know what it is. Since birth, he's never felt pain, mental, or physical. You can have WALTER chop this mother fucker across the chest 50 times in a row, and no matter how much skin flakes off of his pecs, you won't see a hint of pain in his eyes! And guess what! Now, he's under our payroll baby.
Maeve raises her eyebrows at the intense and worrying presentation just brought to her, and specifically at the image which appeared to be a mugshot. She turns to Beefton for back up, but he clearly hasn't listened, having opened a small bag of Haribo Tangfastics. He puts one in his mouth, and his whole face curls up as he clearly finds it too sour.
Beefton
Oh fuck! That's hot!
He fans at his mouth. Maeve sighs and shakes her head, before turning to look back at S2. He is clicked onto the next slide, and another mugshot greets her eyes.
S2
Now this guy, with his muscles on top of muscles on top of muscles, is Tusk Baby. He does body guard and mercenary work as a side hustle, so he can make enough money to go on Safari retreats every summer.
Maeve
Oh, well, that's sort of nice-
S2
So he can illegally wrestle and murder Elephants.
Maeve
What?!? Why!?!
S2
Loves it. It's his favourite sport. With his bare hands, he charges the jungles, and will just slaughter Elephants by the hundreds. You see this shit?
S2 clicks on to a slide showing an article headline:
S2
Yeah. Guess who? I'll tell you who, the guy who's now under our payroll baby.
Maeve looks disgusted, as S2 clicks onto the next slide.
S2
This fucking dude, is tall. 7 foot 3 inches. Call him Sidewalk, wanna know why?
Maeve
I feel like you're gonna tell us anywa-
Beefton
Yeah!
S2
This dude has a history of murders, he has a kill count, let me tell ya'! Method of kill, you ask? Sidewalk Slam! This dude hits mother fuckers with a Sidewalk Slam so devastating, it ends their lives. Gives new meaning to the word 'Finisher'. You get me?
Beefton
I actually do get you.
Beefton seems proud of himself.
S2
And now Sidewalk, and his Sidewalk Slams… under our payroll baby.
S2 clicks the next slide.
S2
Oooooooh shit!
Beefton
Ooooooooooh shiiiiiit!
S2
You know who this is Beefton?
Beefton
I don't, sorry, you just got me excited.
S2
Well trust me, you will. This, is the mad German, Helmuta Kruel. Oh fuck! What she lacks in good looks, she makes up for… in being a bad bitch.
S2 points at her mouth.
S2
See these gnashers?
Maeve
Not really she has her mouth closed.
S2
They have tasted… human flesh!
Maeve
What!?
S2
That's right! Helmuta Kruel isn't just any old bodybuilding babe, it's said she gets her strength from eating… CHILDREN! That's right mother fuckers! CANNIBAL ALERT!!!
S2 pulls out an airhorn and blasts it a few times over.
S2
And guess what, this ain't just any old Cannibal… this Cannibal in-particular… is under our fucking payroll BAY-BAY!!!
S2 keeps blasting the airhorn as he dances. Maeve is up on her feet, grabs the airhorn, and tosses it across the room.
Maeve
What the fuck is wrong with you S2!?
S2
What!?
Maeve
You were asked to hire security, not fucking top level criminals! Cannibals, murderers, the only one who actually seems alright is the first guy, but even then he's a little intense with the no pain and emotion thing!
S2
Oh and he killed his whole family.
Maeve
S2!!! Why would you hire these people?
S2
Priscilla said it was a necessity they had a criminal record. I wanted to hire the scariest mother fuckers I could find, to really make sure no one was breaking into this mansion!
Maeve looks up at the board, at Helmuta Kruel, her intense and evil gaze glaring back down at her. This was to become her new co-worker. Maeve felt sick.
Maeve
Holy fuck. I don't know what to say.
S2
That's alright, cos as usual, your ass is doing all the talking.
And with that, S2 slaps Maeve on the ass. Maeve stiffens up, eyes wide, looking up at S2 who smiles down at her.
Maeve
What is wrong with you!?!
S2
Aww you wanted that shit-
S2 feels himself pushed backwards, his back hitting hard against the wall, as there, suddenly between Maeve and the Scientist, stands an incensed looking Beefton.
Beefton
That's not cool shit, bro. You don't slap a woman's ass like that unless she wants you to, no matter how luscious and beautiful and round and gorgeous and supple and thick and tight and… oh wow…
As he's been speaking, Beefton's eyes have moved from S2 to rest on the ass of Maeve. She looks up at him in disbelief.
Maeve
Beefton!
Beefton
Ugh, yeah! Yeah!
He snaps out of it and turns back to S2.
Beefton
Yeah! Don't do that shit.
S2 moves towards Beefton and gets in his face.
S2
I'll let you off for now Beefton, cos that chick has an affect on dudes with her voodoo Chinese magic. But I'm your boss now, and if you touch me like that again, you won't just lose your job, but when that bitch gets here…
S2 points at Helmuta Kruel.
S2
I'll fucking feed you to her.
He smiles and pats Beefton on the shoulder, before shoulder barging past him and out of the room. Beefton looks a little red, as he gulps and turns to Maeve, breathing a shaky breath. He tries to hide his nerves as he smiles.
Beefton
Woah. That was- you okay?
Maeve
Yeah. Thanks Beefton.
Beefton
No worries. I don't want some dude touching you like that, it's not cool.
Maeve nods. She looks up at Beefton, and for the first time, actually feels a shred of respect for him. She lets out a soft smile.
Maeve
We can go bowling.
Beefton
Yeah!? Really!?
Maeve
Yeah. I just need some shoes I guess.
Beefton
Oh I'll get 'em! What size are you? What's your favourite colour? Do you want like, racing stripes on them? Or Guy Fieri flames?
Maeve
I don't really care Beefton.
Beefton
I'll surprise you.
He nods, his nerves having disapperated in the place of excitement. Maeve notes the change in his attitude, and her smile turns genuine.
-
A few hours later, after a long day of work, Maeve Shiliko finally gets time to rest. She moves into her room, and quickly throws herself down on her bed, a big puff of air leaving her lungs as she can finally enjoy the comfort of her bed.
Until suddenly, she smells something, something funky.
And next to her on her bed, she feels something.
She sits up and turns, and sees there next to her, is her personalised blanket that went missing. She is on her feet quickly, picking it up, but drops it almost as fast as she realises that is what smells. She drops it on her floor, and it uncrumples, unravelling to reveal the mess it's been left in.
Her beautiful, personalised blanket, one of her favourite possessions, has been ruined. It's covered in stains from all sorts of fluids, one very specific kind that she can only imagine has come from S2. And across her blanket, in thick black writing, are the words...
'CHINKY SLUT'.
Maeve falls on her bed again, this time having broken into tears.
A somber fade out, before a slow fade back in.
Dyno-Mike walks into his apartment.
He crashes down on the sofa and switches on the TV. On the TV is the advert for this week's tag team match.
Advert Voice Over
AND THIS TUESDAY NIGHT, WE HAVE A 6 MAN TAG MATCH
Dyno-Mike
Yeah we do!
Advert V.O.
WE HAVE THE THREE BIG *beep beep beep*
Dyno-Mike
Bunch a’nancy boys
Advert V.O.
VERSUS DYNO-MIKE
Dyno-Mike
Oh yeah baby!
Advert V.O.
AND AVULSION!
Mike sits stunned. He looks absolutely devastated.
Dyno-Mike
This is why these fuckers get AGENTS!
As Dyno-Mike is about to go into the kitchen the doorbell rings. Mike throws the door open and to his horror -
Prince Albert
Hi there!
S2
Howdy there dickwad.
Dyno-Mike
You gotta be fuckin kiddin me.
Prince Albert
May we come in?
Dyno-Mike
Sure, I guess.
S2 barges past both of the men as he heads straight for the kitchen. Mike looks around to stop him but is interrupted by Albert.
Prince Albert
So - I’m assuming you heard we’ll be working together.
Dyno-Mike
Errmmm what - er yeah yeah I did, y’wanna jus’ sit down a second there.
Albert politely sits down on Mike’s sofa, and notices a teddy bear sitting in Mike's arm chair. A ruckus can be heard from the kitchen. S2 is almost thrown out of the kitchen.
S2
Get the fuck off me!
Dyno-Mike
Get the fuck off my fridge!
S2
Is that a teddy bear?
Mike seems to be getting overwhelmed and quite stressed.
Dyno-Mike
No it’s a grenade.
S2
Sure looks like a bear to me
Dyno-Mike
Cause it fuckin’ is one dumbass
S2
Easy there build a’ bear don’t get shitty.
Dyno-Mike moves to hit S2 but Albert interjects.
Prince Albert
Guys! We have to fight the three big - y’know
Dyno-Mike
I’ve taken to calling the “trio of large black men”
Prince Albert
I’ll go with 3BN, but thank you. - anyway, if we are fighting each other we can’t fight them.
Dyno-Mike slowly edges toward the chair that his bear sits on as he listens to Albert.
Prince Albert
We can beat them, Mike you have beaten two of them and beat them well. If you can show us how to take them head on then I think - what the fuck are you doing?
Dyno-Mike
What? I was listening, head on, defeat them yadda yadda.
Mike is standing as he blocks the bear from Alberts view.
Prince Albert
Why are you hiding the bear?
Dyno-Mike
Hidin’? Wha chyou talkin’ bout!
An awkward pause.
Dyno-Mike
Jus’ bit concerned cause you’re a - y’know.
Prince Albert
What?
Dyno-Mike
Gotta thang for furries.
Prince Albert
Michael I can honestly say, hand on heart I am not going to fuck your teddy bear. Now can you please calm down and tell us how we’re meant to beat three good wrestlers with this tub of lard in tow.
Dyno-Mike
Ok.
Mike sits down in his chair and gestures for S2 to sit.
S2
I’m good here.
Mike cracks his jaw and stares at S2. He nervously sits down.
Dyno-Mike
They can hit harder than you two. Move faster and smarter. I beat them because I flew at the like an atom bomb. I didn’t give them a second, and I don’t mean that pussy shit where you’re swinging for their heads and doing nothing. I’m talkin’ spearing those fuckers right from the word go, hit them with a suplex, disorientate them. If we’re gonna beat them then we’re gonna have to hit the gas and not take the foot of the peddle till either are tanks empty or they ain’t gettin up.
Albert and S2 sit silenced by the simplicity of the tactics.
S2
Wow. Hit them hard. If only you’d have given Custor that advice right before his last stand, fuckin idiot.
Dyno-Mike
Ok here’s somethin real simple.
Mike grabs S2 by the side of his head and gets right in his face. He pulls a stick of Dynamite out from behind him.
S2
Where’d you get that?
Dyno-Mike
Always prepared, and you don’t wanna know.
This thought makes Albert somewhat aroused and flustered.
Dyno-Mike
Listen d’me you fat cunt! If you get in that ring and give one of those slimy pieces a’ shit a second before you slap the silly, am gonna shove this so far up your ass I’ll be able to light the fuse through your nose, AM I CLEAR SOLDIER?
After a brief pause S2 composes himself.
S2
Get off of me you stupid redneck! You pull that shit again and you'll be counting yourself lucky that we are on the same side!
S2 throws Mike's hands and snaps the dynamite stick in half.
Mike grins.
Dyno-Mike
Now that's the sort of fight you can use come PrimeTime chubs. I’ll be seein’ you boys Toosdy. Now get the fuck out.
S2 leaves in a rush having had enough of Mike, Albert walks behind Mike and taps him on the shoulder. Mike turns and before he can say anything Albert hands him a card with a number on it.
Dyno-Mike
Is this your number?
Albert says nothing, winking at Mike before jogging out of the door.
Mike stands frightened and confused in his kitchen. He looks at his teddy bear, now on the coffee table and shudders.
Albert straightens himself up as he moves down the hallway, S2 following close behind him. Once they're out of earshot of Mike's door, he turns to S2.
Prince Albert
You have to make such a fucking scene?
S2
I was trying to distract him. Plus, that mother fucker put a stick of dynamite in my face Alby! I don't wanna get blown sky high! That shit was real hard to keep my cool through!
Prince Albert
Well done, you didn't succeed.
S2
But did you succeed? Did you do what we set out to do?
Albert turns and holds a radio up to S2, switching it on to reveal the sounds of Dyno-Mike in his home, singing some rather girly pop song to himself. S2 smiles.
S2
Bug planted. Priscilla will be pleased.
Prince Albert
Sure will.
Albert moves onwards down the hallway, S2 following behind him. S2 remembers back to a brief moment of their infiltration.
S2
Hey, when you called me a big tub of lard... that was part of the act right? Alby? Right?
Fade to commercial.
In the middle of dense woodland, a tall fence made of tree trunks and tightly wound with vines and rope cuts through the forrest. Neither its beginning nor its end are in sight. Trunk after trunk after trunk until the structure is interrupted by a gate.
The gate is open and behind it are elder pygmies who look at something behind the gate and cast a signal. A clunking sound and the gate slowly closes, the wood creaking until the structure has closed itself off from the outside world.
Now there is just silence, and the descending sun casts long shadows from the tall trees. Dwarfed by his surroundings stands a gangly being, too tall to be a pygmy but too short to be an adult, staring at the indomitable gate in front of him. It used to keep the boy safe from all the dastardly things the outside had to offer, now he is the outside.
He turns and looks into the endless darkness of the forrest. He can see nothing but the nothing never ends.
There is a section of the great fence, some distance from where the boy was stood, that has a distinct quality; a raised texture that subtly sets it apart from the rest of the fence. One square meter of fence out of the vast, untouchable structure. The boy approaches it and runs his fingers around the raised texture before digging a grubby finger nail into the wood and easing the section out. He's clearly very familiar with what's inside the fence. Now he's found his gap in the fence, he crawls in and crouches behind a hut. The boy's nostrils flare and he peaks inside the hut to see a family of pygmies devouring a roast boar. The boy licks his lips but moves on.
The next hut he crouches behind has no window spaces, he runs his fingers along the wooden pieces that make up the hut's wall and counts 11 slats from the left of the wall then thumps his fist against the slat and it opens, revealing the hut to be a pantry, rich with cured meats. The boy finds a sack and fills it with foods before slipping out of the hut and leaving his sack of stolen sirloin and such by his entry hole. It's good to find food, but this isn't what he came for.
Across from the huts he's hidden behind are another group of huts, and in the space between are two armed pygmies. They speak in a language familiar to the boy until they hear an ear splitting squark and see a chicken sprinting across a path some meters in front of them. They move down the path to investigate and the boy fleet-footedly scampers across the clearing towards the other group of huts. Once there, he sneaks around the back of a hut where pygmy chatter can be heard. He recognises their voices but feels nothing, they're not what he's looking for.
Attached to the hut is a smaller hut and the boy eases the door open and peers into the shadows. What he sees inside, on a comfy looking, tightly packed bed of hey and feathers, is a scruffy mongrel dog with speckled white and tan fur. It sleeps silently.
The boy remembers the sight of the dog's face when he held a stick up for it, eyes lit up, tongue and ears flopping around then sprinting away when he fakes throwing the stick. Then he remembers the endless darkness of the forrest and takes a look at the sleeping, peaceful dog and slowly closes the door to his little hut. The dog briefly stirs as the door closes, but quickly goes back to sleep.
The boy is back where he started, staring at the closed gate with a sack of meat over his shoulder. The sun has fallen completely and he has only a slightly yellow glow in front of him from the torches mounted on the great gate.
The boy turns and looks into the nothing that awaits him.
He takes a breath and walks into the heart of darkness.
Fade out.
Fade into a shot Mark Beverly standing in the center of the ring.
Mark Beverly: The following six-man tag team bout set for one fall is your first-hour main event of the evening!
The crowd pop, as that familiar pimped out garbage truck pulls up to the side of the stage, blasting out through three mega speakers on top of it the Coffin Dance theme music. Out of the truck, emerge the AWF's favourite trio, Ruxx Rampede, Black Clyde, and Big Homunculus, to a huge ovation.
The three move across the stage, Clyde rubbing at his brand new eye, though their smiling and waving at the fans looks quite thinly veiled. Beneath it, they look agitated, intense, ready for a war with the man who'd caused them much distress over the previous weeks, the Atomic Texan… Dyno-Mike.
Mark Beverly: Coming in first, the team of-
As the three are moving down the ramp… they're PEARL HARBOURED!!! They're all clocked from behind! Albert lamps Rampede, Mike throttles Homunculus, and S2 flattens Black Clyde! All three of the 3BN clatter down the ramp, landing awkwardly on the steel. The team of Avulsion and Mike start to stomp down on their opponents, to a chorus of boos from the disapproving crowd.
Dyno-Mike: This one! Get him up and in the ring!
He points at Homunculus, his opponent for the Chamber, and Albert helps him lift the Giant Dwarf to his feet, before the pair toss the Pygmian into the ring. As Mike slowly rolls inside, Albert moves back towards the other two members of 3BN, and continues the beat down alongside his fellow 3BN member S2. Albert lifts Ruxx to his feet, as S2 takes Clyde, and the pair both toss the respective men over the barricade into the crowd.
Homunculus is on his own now, slowly rising to his feet in the ring, as Mike roars, waiting for him to be up. As Homunculus finally reaches his feet, the referee calls for the bell.
Ding!
SPEAR!!!
MIKE CLATTERS THE WEAKENED HOMUNCULUS WITH A SPEAR IMMEDIATELY!!!
He pins him…
Wilford Daniels: ONE…
TWO…
TH-KICKOUT!!!
The crowd let out a sigh of relief, as Homunculus gets his shoulder up, Mike furious with having been nano-seconds away from the quickest victory in AWF history. Mike is at his feet, stomping on the side of the head of Homunculus, before lifting him by the waist, and German Suplexing the gangly dwarf into his corner, where Prince Albert and S2 have now arrived.
Albert is tagged in, and as Mike lifts Homunculus into a sidewalk slam position, Albert grabs him by the head… REVERSE DDT SIDEWALK SLAM!!! What a double team move!
Albert gets the pin…
Wilford Daniels: ONE…
TWO-Kickout!
A quicker kickout this time, it's clear Homunculus has regained some of his composure. Albert rains down the stomps now, before lifting the Pygmian up, and bringing him down hard in the centre of the ring with a scoop slam. He's over in the corner, tagging in the Scientist quickly, who charges off the ropes with all of his 500+ pounds of weight, and drops a huge elbow across the sternum of Homunculus!
Pin!
Wilford Daniels: ONE…
TWO…
KICKOUT!
S2 looks irritated, whereas Albert calmly returns to his corner, as S2 drops and applies a chin-hold to Homunculus. Albert and Mike cheer him on, as Homunculus grits his teeth, feeling the pain as S2's big meaty hands wrap around his chin! The gangly dwarf tries to fight his way out of it, sending a few shots at S2's midsection, but a club to his back sends him back down, before S2 learns from his mistake the week prior, and tags out to Mike.
Homunculus tries to roll away from the corner, to give himself breathing room, but Mike is on him quickly, planting his large boot into the face of Homunculus over and over. He has him up then, by the waist, and plants him down with a SECOND German Suplex!
Then a THIRD!
Then a FOURTH!!!
Mike chuckles to himself as Homunculus lays in a beaten heap on the mat. As the Atomic Texan watches him try to stir, he moves into the corner, gesturing for Homunculus to get to his feet, ready to blast him with a SPEAR to finish him off…
Homunculus is up…
Mike charges!
But Homunculus dives out of the way! Mike can't stop his momentum! He crashes head first into the opposing turnbuckle! He tumbles backwards dazed, right into the grip of Homunculus around his throat! The crowd are on their feet!
DWARVEN CHOKESLAM!!!
NO!
Dyno-Mike reverses, managing to fight out of it on the lift! He wraps his arms around Homunculus' waist once more...
A FIFTH GERMAN SUPLEX!!!
Dyno-Mike covers him…
Wilford Daniels: ONE…
TWO…
THR-KICKOUT!!!
Christian Cage: Homunculus WILL not go down!
Mike knows this fact, and punches the mat aggressively, his previously pleased and cocky demeanour gone.
Meanwhile, on the outside, Ruxx Rampede is up! His movements are slow due to the beat down laid upon him before the start of the match, but he's doing his best to climb up back over the barricade. Albert and S2 see this, and move away from the ring to approach the Bin Man, ready to lay in a second beatdown.
But Ruxx fights back! He clatters S2 with a right hand, before him and Albert exchange fists, fighting as they get further and further up the ramp until they're on the stage! Ruxx lands a knee into Albert's stomach, keeling him over, before grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, and sending him flying off off the edge of the stage! Albert hits the concrete floor head, and looks to be unconscious.
Ruxx turns though right into a clothesline from S2, bowling him over. S2 tries to follow up, but Ruxx scrambles away from him, trying to regain footing to give him a fighting chance against the 500lb monster!
But what S2 is unaware of, is the Black Clyde is up too! He's made his way to his corner, and is leaning over the ropes, desperate to make the tag to Big Homunculus! The Pygmian sees him, and tries to crawl over to him, but he's stopped by Mike who lands a stomp onto his spine!
The stomps rain down over and over, before Mike grabs him by the waist and lifts him up once more, ready to put him away with a SIXTH GERMAN SUPLEX!
BUT NO! Homunculus sends a headbutt backwards into Mike's nose! The Texan clutches at his face, before his throat is gripped by Homunculus' huge paw! He can't react quick enough as he's lifted…
DWARVEN CHOKESLAM!!!
IT HITS!!!
Mike is sent to the mat back first as he and Homunculus just lay there, both men out of it! Clyde roars, his muscled arm extending the furthest it can go over the ropes, begging Homunculus to tag him in…
Homunculus looks up, he can see Clyde reaching to him! Calling to him! He begins his crawl… ebbing close and closer to Clyde…
Mike is up to his feet behind him… he sees Homunculus getting closer to Clyde!
He charges at him…
But with his last ounce of strength, Homunculus pushes himself off of the mat, leaping through the air, gangly arm outstretched…
HE MAKES THE TAG!!!
BLACK CLYDE IS IN!!!
Mike takes a few steps back as Clyde bolts at him, obliterating Mike with a huge LARIAT! Mike is up again, but walloped back down with a SECOND LARIAT!!! Mike tries to get back to his feet but is struggling, but Clyde helps him, picking him up and sending him off the ropes… Mike bounds back…
HUGE FREE-FALL DROP!!! The crowd go crazy for Clyde!
Clyde isn't finished there, his anger boiling to the surface over Mike. He lifts him to his feet by the skull, and charges at the turnbuckle with Mike's head in hand, sending it careening into the top turnbuckle! And then again! And again! Mike goes dizzy as over and over again Clyde sends his head bouncing off of the top turnbuckle! Finally, he takes a few steps back, and squashes Mike's head between his own abs of steel, and the top turnbuckle!!!
Mike stumbles out of the corner, into the great arms of Black Clyde! He wastes no time, lifting Mike through the air, and crashing him down to the mat with a BELLY TO BELLY SLAM!!!
Clyde is up to his feet, and the crowd are so heavily in his corner as his bright fiery eye looks down at Mike with only one thing on his mind, vengeance! And with that thought, Clyde begins to climb to the top rope!
Jim Ross: What's he going for here! This could be dangerous!
Clyde is aware of the dangers, but it worries him none. He measures Mike, and leaps in the same instant!
BICEP DROP!!!
His bicep crashes squarely over the already damaged head of Dyno-Mike!!!
Mike is out cold!
Clyde hooks his leg!
Wilford Daniels: ONE...
TWO…
THRE-
CHAIR SHOT!!! Right over the back of Clyde!
The referee calls for the bell, ending the match in a disqualification, as there stands S2, steel chair in hand, aimed at the back of Black Clyde who now writhes in pain. The crowd boo, but judging by the shit eating grin on his face, S2 cares none.
He throws the chair to one side, as he reaches into his pocket, and pulls out some Brass Knuckles, slowly slipping them over his fingers.
Christian Cage: Oh god! What's he gonna do here!?
As Clyde slowly starts to climb back to his feet, S2 prep his fist, aiming squarely at the side of Black Clyde's skull…
Clyde is up…
S2 swings his fist!
BUT CLYDE'S NEW EYE! IT MOVES BY ITSELF! IT LOCKS ONTO THE INCOMING FIST!!!
AND CLYDE CATCHES IT!!!
S2 looks shocked, his brass knuckle-clad fist having been caught mid-air in the grasp of Black Clyde, quicker than a flash, a blur of movement that he could barely register! The rest of Clyde's head turns to look at where his new eye is already looking, at the perplexed and worried face of S2, before grabbing him around the throat with his free hand!
BUT ANOTHER CHAIR SHOT!!! Right over the back of Clyde's head!!! The Tall and Handsome Man drops to the mat face first, as Mike stands there with the steel chair, before raining another shot down on top of him!
Homunculus is in the ring too, beaten and hurt, but he tries to help his friend!
But it's no use! A chair shot for his skull too! Homunculus has joined his friend Clyde in an unconscious heap on the mat!
Ruxx has made his way over from the stage, jumping up onto the apron as S2 charges at him! Rampede sends an elbow into S2's face, before attempting to climb into the ring… but Albert grabs at his foot! Ruxx tries to kick away at the Prince, but before he can, S2 is charging at him again…
HE CLOCKS RUXX WITH THE BRASS KNUCKLES!!!
Ruxx collapses off of the apron, hitting hard against the concrete floor! Albert laughs, before moving past this now unconscious body to roll into the ring. He stands with Mike and S2, both of whom look pleased with themselves, as the trio turn to look at the hard cam, and raise their hands to a chorus of boos, as the scene fades out.
Three Big Niggas def. Dyno-Mike & Avulsion by disqualification in 6:35
Not a fade in but a quick cut into the scene.
Conor McGregor
How the FOOK has this happened 'ere then? I t'ought I fookin' told you. I only want the big money dates, not this free access TV. Who the fook would wanna be on the low paying show?
Conor is standing behind his desk in his office...holy hell his office looks insane, his desk is massive and looks really fucking expensive. The wall behind him is just this massive mural done up of Conor flipping the crowd off at a UFC show, to his left is a vault where Conor keeps all his money, to his right is FAT stacks of cash because his vault has become over filled with cash. Conor is wearing the finest suit that money can buy, the stitching is just the words "Fuck You" over and over again, it's all custom tailored (duh).
Conor's Agent
I-I-I-I-I-
Conor McGregor
T-T-T-TODAY JUNIOR! WHY THE FUCK WAS I BOOKED FOR THIS SHOW?
Conor's Agent
I-I guess that they...that they didn't read over your demands on the contract thoroughly when I sent it back to them…
Conor McGregor
OH, SO NOW YOU'RE GUESSING SHIT? WHO THE FOOK DO YOU T'INK YOU ARE?
Conor's Agent
I-
Conor McGregor
I DIDN'T FOOKIN' SAY YOU COULD SPEAK, CUNT!
Conor's agent just falls silent. Not saying a word.
Conor McGregor
NOW YOU AREN'T GONNA SAY A FOOKIN' WORD WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU?
Conor's Agent
I thought that you-
Conor McGregor
SHUT THE FOOK UP! YOU'RE FOOKIN' DONE! GET THE FOOK OUTTA MY OFFICE!
Conor's Agent just looks at the floor, knowing he is now out of the highest paying job he has ever had. He leaves the room almost in tears...as he leaves Conors wife, Dee Devlin, walks into the room, Conor is now just sat behind the table with his head in his hands.
Dee Devlin
You didn' 'ave to do that now did you? If you were just gonna fire him why not just fire him outright? Why make it about the show?
Conor McGregor
Because I canne keep sendin' these people back to the agency without givin' them a proper reason at to why I keep on firin' the fookers. Needs to 'ave a reason behind it
Dee Devlin
Well...next time can you please keep it down? The kids could hear you from out the kitchen.
Conor McGregor
A'ight. A'ight... I'll do me best.
Dee Devlin
Thank you. I'll go an' get outta your hair now.
Conor McGregor
Cheers love. I'll be out soon, just gotta sort some shit out with this fookin' wrestlin' shite.
Dee smiles and leaves Conor's office, Conor picks up his phone and gives the agency a call again, as we fade out into...
THE FOLLOWING ANNOUNCEMENT IS SPONSORED BY PROPER TWELVE IRISH WHISKEY
We cut to Conor's Office again, where Mystic Mac is indulging himself in some Proper No. Twelve Whiskey, he is sat straight up at his desk, not noticing the cameras at first.
Conor McGregor
Ahhh...that is some fookin' fine whiskey…
(Conor's about to do the 'Oh, Didn't see you there' thing to the camera)
Conor looks at the cameras, "surprised".
Conor McGregor
Oh, Didn't see you there…
(told you.)
Conor places his glass of whiskey to the side, then kicks his feet up on the desk.
Conor McGregor
...now, You should all know who the fook I am. What the fook I 'ave done with me life. I am the Mystic Mac. The Money Maker. The best ting that the UFC ever fookin' had in it's hands. I drew the numbers in for them. Without me they prolly would've fell off into irrelevancy fookin' years ago! I have the quickest title fight in UFC history!
The camera zooms in close to Conors face for this next part.
Conor McGregor
I knocked that fookin' pussy out in thirteen seconds, B-T-Dubs
*Wink*
The camera returns to normal now, as McGregor continues to speak.
Conor McGregor
I am the first Irish born UFC champion EVER, The first simultaneous multi-divisional champion in UFC history...HISTORY! ME! The fookin' first of them! I am in five of the six highest selling Pay-Per-Views in UFC history!
The camera zooms in again.
Conor McGregor
UFC 229, 209, 196, 205 and 194. In that exact fookin' order.
The camera returns to normal, and McGregor takes his feet off the table and looks deadpan into the camera.
Conor McGregor
I am M O N E Y. Put me on anything and I can guaran-fookin'-tee you that it will become the talk o' the town. Putting me on this free product is a fookin' insult! An insult to my fookin' worth, an insult to my fookin' family...and an insult to me as a person. People should PAY to see what Mystic Mac can do. Not be able to watch the shite I do for free. I knew gettin' into this wrestlin' shite was a fookin' mistake. My former agent, who has since been shown the fookin' door, didn't do my contract up correctly and with his fook up, he cost me a whole bunch of fookin' money…
Conor then pulls two BIG bundles of cash out from under his desk and sets them on his desk.
Conor McGregor
Not like it means SHIT to me. I wipe my ass with Benjamins. Money ain't shit to me. Me and my fookin' family are loaded for LIFE, but I only want to 'work' the BIG pay days, like Brock and Ronda. If those two who, let's be fookin' honest 'ere, could barely fookin' do their job in the UFC, Brock was gassed to the fookin' eyelids and Ronda got rocked once and lost her whole career because of it. So if they can come into this shit as flawed as they were...then this should be a fookin' cake walk for the G.O.A.T.
The camera zooms right in on Connors face again, but he is deadpan staring directly back into it.
Conor McGregor
I'll be seeing you cunts on the seventh.
And with those final words, Conor gets out of his chair and walks out of frame.
THE PRECEDING ANNOUNCEMENT HAS BEEN SPONSORED BY PROPER TWELVE IRISH WHISKEY
Fade out to commercial.
The camera fades in to show the outside of the large warehouse which houses Markus Alice’s dilapidated gym. a large sign featuring the words “ALICE’S MEGA GYM - MAIN & MEMBERS ENTRANCE AT SIDE” sits above the entrance. Well, it would, had half the letters not fallen off of the sign leaving the building simply titled “SMEGY MAN MEATS”.
Inside, we cut to the Gym’s owner, Markus Alice, talking to a scrawny man sitting behind the reception, seemingly the old receptionist’s (whom Mag Aluf may have accidentally murdered on the last show) replacement.
Markus Alice
Aw right butty, yous jus’ sit there an’ look busy. Ah’ll be honest, we get fuck all people in ‘ere so your job is more of a tax dodge-type deal. Dun’ ask any Q’s and Ah’ll not turn yous into a drug-fuelled sex slave, Ah hear that’s popular at the moment.
The scrawny man doesn’t respond, he just sweats. A quiet bell rings behind Alice, causing him to turn around, surprised to have a visitor.
Markus Alice
If yous ain’t a sight for sore eyes butt, Ah told yous Ah’d see yous right.
Alice holds his arms open to Mag, who it turns out was the visitor, for a hug. Mag just spits at his feet.
Mag Aluf
Don’t be fucking gay bro, nothing’s gayer than being gay bro, except killing yourself, dog. That wrestling shit was fuckin’ E-Z bro, and I got some mad puss after bro, some proper fuckin’ dirty Canadian shit bro.
Markus nods along as Mag expresses his fondness for Puss.
Mag Aluf
This bitch even asked if I wanted to eat some Poutine - Miss me with that shit man, Mag Aluf ain’t into scat. Don’t get me wrong bro, there ain’t much Mag won’t dick down - man I’ll even do Mexican chicks, the hair on the bottom of their back just gives me something to hold on to but The Defiler ain’t about to eat no girl’s ass bro - The only Brown Town Mag Aluf has dined in was a slut named Aisha from Zante ‘15.
Markus Alice
Black Lives Matter.
Mag Aluf
Church, dog.
The two aggressively-white dudes fist bump before being interrupted by the new receptionist waving their arms to gain their attention.
Mag Aluf
The fuck is this bitch?
Markus Alice
Old receptionist died, had to chuck her in the skip out back. This is “Sharon”.
Mag Aluf
Fuckin’ SHARON? That’s a fuckin’ nonce name bro.
Markus Alice
Say ‘Ello, Sharon - You fucking piece of shit.
Sharon nervously shakes his head at the Welshman and Guido. He’s a very skinny man, looking roughly 30, with most of his face obscured by long ginger hair. He’s wearing a striped sweater and what looks like a long grey skirt, although his legs are hidden by the desk. What really makes Sharon a complete wanker is the felt Beret he has perched on his head.
Sharon
Mmmm...nmm..sh...rn
Sharon seems to be attempting to speak but his nervous disposition gets the better of him and only allows soft, quiet noises to escape his lips. Mag grimaces at the man before taking a bump of his signature Mag-grade Nose Candy. This apparently makes Sharon even more uncomfortable, as Mag notices.
Mag Aluf
Bro, are you a fucking Narc?
Alice turns to Sharon suddenly, reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a fucking Glock. Holding it to the man’s throat, he shouts at Sharon.
Markus Alice
WHAT’S THE FUCKING MATTER YOU LITTLE GINGER CUNT? ARE YOU A FUCKING NARC?!
Sharon begins crying and shakily holds out a name badge he seems to have pulled from the ether. Alice takes it and looks over it before passing it to Mag to do the same.
Alice looks back at the receptionist, also putting the gun back into his pocket.
Mag Aluf
Your fuckin’ moms legit named you Shy Ron? What the fu-
The coming character assassination would have to wait as Mag is interrupted by a chiming from his pocket, Shy Ron breathes a sigh of relief. Mag removes his chiming phone from his pocket and attempts to unlock it via the Eye-Scan feature - Unfortunately, on account of the narcotics, his pupils are about as stable as Michael J. Fox trying to thread a needle. Mag eventually enters his pin and checks his messages.
A flicker of slight sadness resonates behind the PartyHorse’s eyes, but is quickly shaken off as he types a response. He hits send and looks back to his trainer (I guess you could say trainer, kinda).
Markus Alice
Anything important?
Mag lets a small smirk form on his face as he puts his hater-blocker sunglasses on his eyes.
Mag Aluf
Mag Aluf’s hungry for some emotionally-vulnerable Puss bro, and he just got invited to an all-you-can-eat.
The scene fades out to black.
The Hardy Compound,
Cameron, North Carolina
The rain consistently pummels against the windows, the glass vibrating with each splatter of cold water as the cacophony of the storm overhead plays as a backing track to the music softly filling the large barn-turned-funeral-parlour.
The room is scarcely decorated, a few rows of chairs sit in front of a small stage, complete with a wooden lectern. An aisle separates the rows of chairs into two sections and leads to a large wooden coffin sat on a plinth in the middle of the stage.
Various people in suits and dresses are sitting on the aforementioned chairs. A few notable faces can be seen amongst the guests, including Christian, both Dudleys, Priscilla Kelly and Albert, seemingly not on a leash for once and instead dressed in a nice suit, and some guy called Kodak Mack or some shit, either way he wasn’t wearing a shirt and smelt like bear shit. Mag, dressed in a knock-off Gucci tank-top and board shorts makes his way to his seat, he is shortly joined by none other than the Rated R Superstar himself, Edge!
Mag Aluf
Ay, Raging Dead! You knew Jeff?
Edge
Who the fuck is Raging Dead?
Edge gives Mag a strange look. Mag doesn’t get a chance to continue the conversation as a voice from the podium on stage interrupts him.
Matt Hardy
Gooooood Evening all! We are gathered in the parlour of transcendence on this eve to celebrate this vessel’s passing and the transference of Brother Nero’s consciousness to the MUL-TI-VERSE.
A woman in a cheap nurse costume wipes a tear away from her face as her boyfriend, who looks surprisingly like Evan Bourne, wraps an arm around her in support.
Matt Hardy
Brother Nero suffered for many eons, trapped in this vessel! His soul forced to engage in the everlasting battle against hard drug addiction, his physical form positively RIDDLED with venereal diseases.
Mag nods slightly, recounting their games of STD Top-Trumps they would play.
Matt Hardy
Finally, he is free! And he shall finally break the 7th cypher of the Multiverse, bringing upon this world a reckoning of biblical proportions!
Reby Hardy joins her husband on stage and takes over the microphone.
Reby Hardy
Thank you Matt.
She offers him a kiss on the cheek, to which he licks her cheek instead.
Reby Hardy
Jeffrey Nero Hardy was a dear friend to us all, and will be truly missed. Recently, as I was sorting through Jeff’s possessions, I came across a notebook of his.
Reby holds out a small black book.
Reby Hardy
The book contains many names, however one is mentioned a few times, next to words such as “Hero In Dealer”. Any person Jeff felt was a Hero and especially one he felt could “Deal” with his deep-rooted issues is a true friend of the family. As such, I would like to invite Mr Mag Aluf to say a few words.
A spotlight appears from nowhere and rests focused on Mag. He shrugs it off and gets to his feet, proceeding to walk to the stage and replace Reby. He reaches into his shorts and pulls out his cell phone, seemingly Mag had foreseen this happening and prepared a speech. He quickly types a few words in and looks to the crowd before forcibly tearing the microphone from the lectern, basically breaking the thing. He walks across the stage towards the coffin.
Mag Aluf
Jeffrey Nero Hardy is...Shit, fuckin’ editing permissions…
Mag fiddles with his phone for a moment before returning back to his speech, he leans on the coffin as he reads.
Mag Aluf
Jeffrey Nero Hardy was an American professional wrestler and musician. He was signed to WWE, where he performed on the SmackDown brand. Hardy was best known for his work in his multiple runs with WWE.
Mag pretends to wipe a tear away from his face as he quickly closes Jeff’s Wikipedia page and returns to his seat.
Reby Hardy
Many thanks to Mr. Aluf for those… words.
Reby doesn’t seem convinced but continues nonetheless.
Reby Hardy
Jeff left very specific instructions on how he wished for his funeral to be conducted, and as requested we have followed his wishes.
She bows her head and leaves it at that, walking from the stage as the spotlight focuses on the coffin and the house lights dim.
The Dudleys begin loudly wailing as the music begins, obviously being overcome with emotion. Suddenly, the plinth holding the coffin begins to rise upwards. Once high enough, the plinth turns on it’s side to reveal a large depiction of Jeff Hardy’s face, drawn in the same style as his self-portraits, with the coffin making the nose of the large effigy.
Matt Hardy
He is ASCENDING!
Matt’s exclamation is timed perfectly, the doors of the coffin swing open! Jeff Hardy’s corpse begins floating from the wooden box, above the crowd!
Matt Hardy
BROTHER NERO HAS TRANSCENDED!
While the display is already fairly fucked up, nothing could prepare the crowd for what was about to come next. Somehow, the wiring system used to puppet Jeff’s corpse has tangled! With a sudden burst from a snapped wire, Jeff’s corpse is spun like a BeyBlade around the room! The force of the spin is enough to force the other wire to snap! The body flings across the room to hit hard against the back wall, leaving a slight red smear as it slowly slides down the wall into a heap on the floor.
Mag Aluf
That’s fucked up, bro.
Edge
Who the fuck is Raging Dead?
Matt Hardy walks over to the mangled corpse of his brother and pokes it gently with the tip of his boot.
Matt Hardy
Brother Nero has been.. DELETED. DELETE! DELETE! DELETE!
We fade to black as Matt continues to shout “Delete” in the background and Mag discusses Doppelgängers with Edge.
We fade back, to the commentary booth where sat is a somber looking commentary booth.
Jim Ross: Jeff was a special soul, and we all will miss him.
There’s a moment of silence offered up.
Jim Ross: Next Tuesday is our last PrimeTime before AWF’s arrival in New York for the Brawl at Yankee Stadium, where we already know there will be an Elimination Chamber, a Championship Scramble, and Four-Team Ladder, all with gold on the line! You can thank the great Commissioner Austin for every last bit of that!
Christian Cage: I can’t deny that much, Ross; that wild card is the brainchild of nobody but Stone Cold. Speaking of championships, there is the second part of your interview with the World’s Champion Priscilla Kelly, but we did want to remind you beforehand that Bret Hart has promised to be here TONIGHT! to give a well anticipated update on Commissioner Booker!
Jim Ross: Commissioner? Well anticipated?!
The scene crossfades out as Ross begins a rant in favor of Austin in Christian’s face, a flake of tonsillitis flying from his mouth onto the lip of Captain Charisma the last sight.
Jim Ross
And Priscilla, do you believe you are worthy of the AWF World's Championship belt?
Priscilla Kelly
Excuse me?
Jim Ross
I meant-
Priscilla Kelly
What kind of fucking question is that? Do I believe I'm worthy? Are you joking?
Jim Ross
I meant no disrespect Priscilla-
Priscilla Kelly
Do you think I'm worthy Jim?
Jim Ross
Well of course I do but-
Priscilla Kelly
But you know others don't, which is why you asked. Do you think it's fair, the criticisms people have for me being Champion? The way they try to play down my success?
Jim Ross
I do not share those opinions myself-
Priscilla Kelly
But have you humoured those thoughts Jim?
Jim Ross
I've- I've… Priscilla…
Priscilla Kelly
Doggy! S2!
And in that instant, into the room, Prince Albert and S2 drag Matt Sydal, kicking and screaming at the pair who have him clutched by either arm. Albert sends a fist into the side of his head, and momentarily silences Sydal.
Priscilla Kelly
This is Matt Sydal. You know him, Jim?
Jim Ross
Of course.
Priscilla Kelly
What was it you had to say about me Matt? Mind repeating?
Matt slowly looks up, clearly having gone through a bit of a beating by the men flanking him on either side. Through his bust lips, he grits his teeth and speaks.
Matt Sydal
I said you're a fake Champion. You're a mockery. You're a cheat.
Priscilla Kelly
Hmm. See, I've said it before Jim, and I'll say it again. The idiots who hold this opinion are countless. Countless! Look at Matt Sydal.
She stands up and gestures towards the heavily beaten Sydal.
Priscilla Kelly
He can barely stand up, and he pretends like he has some victory over me. A moral victory.
Priscilla cups Matt's chin, and brings his face to look her in her eyes.
Priscilla Kelly
That moral victory is real nice Matt. You can have that. I'll stick to all the victories I have though. Like the World's Championship. Like the riches. Like the best win-loss record in the company. Like having never been pinned.
Matt Sydal
They're not yours.
Priscilla Kelly
Oh yes they are. They're my accolades. And that little moral victory, that's yours. Well done Matty, you earned it.
Priscilla boops Matt on the nose.
Priscilla Kelly
I want people like Matt Sydal, and Max Ironside, and Rockstar Spud, to understand something. These moral victories you constantly spout off about… they mean nothing to someone without morals.
Priscilla grabs Matt aggressively by the chin this time, and forces him to look into her grinning face, her fiery eyes burning a hole into his pupils.
Priscilla Kelly
I'm gonna say this in a way that you'll be able to understand Matt. Priscilla woke up. She got out of bed. She brushed her teeth. She put on some clothes.
As S2 and Albert still hold him in place, Priscilla wrenches Sydal's arm nearly out of it's socket, as she starts to lift her foot to his jaw.
Priscilla Kelly
She put on her makeup. She got in the car. Bill drove her to her interview with Jim Ross.
Priscilla forces Matt's mouth open with her foot, until her heel is pressed up against Sydal's top layer of teeth. Matt squeals, as he's helpless to do anything about what he knows is coming.
Priscilla Kelly
Matt Sydal interrupted. So Priscilla smashed his fucking teeth out.
And with that, Priscilla drops to her back suddenly, yanking Sydal down with her by his arm. The momentum he's carried with stops as Priscilla hits the floor, obliterating Sydal's top layer of teeth as his head comes to a brutal stop against her heel. Teeth fly everywhere, blood streaming from the mess that once was Sydal's gums. He screams and roars, a pool of crimson slowly ebbing from the red hole that was once his mouth, as he rolls around on the carpet floor in agony.
Priscilla turns slowly to Jim.
Priscilla Kelly
Jim, stand up.
Jim gulps, his fat face going white, as he slowly, shakily, gets to his feet.
Priscilla Kelly
Give me your arm.
Jim looks ready to pass out in horror, as he slowly extends his arm. Priscilla grabs it, much like she did Sydal's. Priscilla, very slowly, glaring unblinking into the eyes of Jim the whole time, lifts her foot up to his mouth. Jim starts to sweat, looking terrified.
Jim Ross
Priscilla, please, please I-
Priscilla Kelly
Jim.
Jim Ross
Yes?
Albert moves over to Priscilla's foot, and takes off her boot, revealing her bare foot beneath.
Priscilla Kelly
Kiss it.
Jim looks shocked, his face, drained of colour, looking up at Priscilla with disbelief.
Jim Ross
That's- it?
No answer. Jim just nods, before he does as told, and kisses Priscilla on the foot. She smiles, as she slowly lowers her leg.
Priscilla Kelly
Can you believe you made it through one of these things unscathed?
Jim Ross
Not quite yet.
Priscilla Kelly
Then fuck off before I get the gasoline.
Jim doesn't need to be told twice, quickly bolting out of the room. Priscilla grabs her boot from Albert, and sits down in Jim's leather chair. She looks up at her two henchmen.
Priscilla Kelly
I don't want Matt seeing a wrestling ring again boys.
The pair nod, before Albert and S2 converge on Sydal, his agonising moans and screams heard but not seen as the camera zooms in on Priscilla Kelly, slowly putting her boot back on with a small, content smile. After her boot is zipped back up, she inspects the heel, before using her fingers to pick out a tooth, and flick it across the room.
Crossfade back to the commentary booth.
Jim Ross: Matt Sydal has been forced to retire due to irredeemable injury, as confirmed just hours later. We wish him the best recovery possible, and send our regards to his family.
Another somber look from the pair, before a crossfade to the sight of a wide-eyed Commissioner Austin in front of his office door, Kevin Kelly with a microphone next to him.
Kevin Kelly
Good evening ladies and gentlemen, I am here with the interim Commissioner Ston--
Commissioner Austin
What?
Kevin Kelly’s eyes widen as he realizes the bad choice of words.
Kevin Kelly
Well, Commissioner Austin, I only mention it since Bret Hart has promised an update on Booker T tonig--
Commissioner Austin
What? (pointing to self with three fingers) You think Stone Cold gives a damn what that pile of garbage has to say about a dead man?
Kevin Kelly’s mouth is shut with no intentions of moving. A sudden yank of the microphone, push of AWF’s lead reporter, and force of the camera to get a close up shot of him and only him. His eyes are wide.
Commissioner Austin
What Stone Cold’s had enough of is this damn disrespect! Champions?! You call these champions?! Stone Cold is a champion’s champion! I’m a man’s man! Ya got mealy-mouthed sunovabitch Spud walkin’ ‘round with that damn ‘The Champ is Queer’ bullshit every damn body knows it’s All About Austin!
He has no choice but to take a deep breath, for necessity rather than any sort of calm.
Commissioner Austin
Then ya got that tramp piece’a’trass Priscilla Kelly disrespecting Jim Ross! You sorry son-of-a-bitch! You fuck with Ross, you fuck with me, and that goes for any damn body! He kissed your foot -- well you can kiss my ass!
Austin begins pacing before catching the camera with a wild look one last time.
Commissioner Austin
I got something for you both! Next week’s main event, eleven days before AWF tears down Yankee Stadium, it’ll be you two sorry bastards versus each and every contender on your card! Ten versus two! And that’s the bottom line, ‘cause Stone Cold said so!
A thrown microphone disrupts the view prior to a fade out.
Bret Hart
I don't know what to tell you Robbie…
Bret Hart folds his hands in front of him on his desk. In front of him is someone that is fairly recognizable.
Robbie McKay, the Showstopper himself looking a lot older and tired then he used to in his 'glory' days.
Robbie McKay
I just need a shot. You're the only one that was willing to even talk to me Bret.
Bret grimaces.
Bret Hart
That's because we were good friends back in the early 90's Robbie. You never actually did anything to me personally but you burned a lot of bridges when the drinking and drugs got out of control. You understand why I'm hesitant to give you a contract?
Robbie nods.
Robbie McKay
I don't pretend to act like I didn't really mess things up. My whole life imploded underneath me. I've been sober for six years now.
He pulls something from the breast pocket of his dress shirt, placing it on the desk. It was his sobriety chip, a big number '6' on it.
Robbie McKay
I've been working with Mike and Finn at the Closters daily. I'm ready to do this again. I just need someone willing to give me a shot.
Bret sighs deeply, obviously wanting to give Robbie the benefit of doubt.
Bret Hart
Alright.
Robbie's blue eyes light up.
Robbie McKay
Yes. Thank you. You won't regret this…
Bret holds up his hand.
Bret Hart
I have some conditions of course. You will have a three month probationary contract. After that we can discuss a more permanent arrangement. Second, you don't go messing with you know who. Yes Robbie, I know. In fact it was the reason I even gave her this shot. I saw you in her the moment I saw her tapes. She doesn't know, I take it?
Robbie shakes his head
Robbie McKay
No. Her mother wanted nothing to do with me. You can't deny me the right to get to know her, she's my daughter…
Bret's face still looks uncomfortable.
Bret Hart
After the probationary period then. Obviously no drugs or alcohol, but if you are serious about your sobriety that should be a given.
Robbie once again nods.
Bret Hart
Well... then I suppose the Showstopper is making his return. You're lucky, we just lost a talent and I need someone that can draw a crowd. I just hope it's for the right reasons.
Bret stands, offering his hand.
Robbie McKay
I'm going to make this work, you'll see... they'll all see…
Another fade out.
The following events take place the day after PrimeTime VII
Redondo California
A maroon 1951 Chevy Fleetline is driving through a neighborhood. In the back seat sits El Chingar, taking huge puffs out of his cigar with dark glasses shielding his eyes. In the front sits his masked assistant and client Ernesto who now fully, and reluctantly, has adopted the name El Gordo.
El Gordo
Where are we going
(hacking through all the smoke)
and can you roll down the window please? You know I have asthma, why are you doing this?
El Chingar rolls his eyes and gives his window the tiniest crack to let the smoke slowly slip out.
El Chingar
I told you
(taking another puff of the cigar)
We're going to see a friend of mine.
El Gordo
What's with you and all these secrets now? Gah-lee, you become a wrestler and now you think your
(in a high pitch mocking voice)
meester beeg-shot
Chingar wacks Gordo on the back of the head, he lets out a yelp.
El Chingar
Correction, you're a wrestler now. I'm your manager. And it's like I said, everything is on a need to know basis now. And you don't need-to-know. But what I can tell you, we're going to do some training. You're facing a couple of locos in your first match. If you want to beat some locos, you have to get into the mind of a loco, and there is no one better to train you than the craziest man I know. His name is Creeper, and his house is coming up.
They continue to drive through the neighborhood zig-zagging through the streets. Each turn the houses look more warn down, and more menacing than the last. They pull into a dead end, with a singular house. The yard is dead, and drying even more in the bright son. Gordo parks the car, gets out and makes his way to the house, behind him Chingar has rolled down the window and whistled at him. He turns around and walks back to the car, giving out an audible sigh as he opens his door. The two walk up to the house and knock on it, as tiny dogs are heard barking inside. An old woman opens the door, kicking the tiny dogs away.
Woman
Hola? Who are you? What do you want?
El Chingar
Hi, is
(leaning in and whispering)
is Creeper home?
The woman squints at El Chingar, she leans in to get a better look.
Woman
Joey? Little Joey is that you?
El Chingar
Yes Miss Guiterrez..but it's El Chingar now! Please, I just need to see Creeper.
Woman
(leaning back into the house)
OSCAR! Your friend is here for you!
Creeper
(From a distance)
I'm in the yard with the guys!
The woman let's them in the house. The two make their way to the backyard. Several tall hispanic men are hanging out in the yard drinking and chatting with a faint hint of music. A few bikes are parked in the center of the yard, all of them chrome with raised handle bars. El Chingar and Gordo walk into the yard as the men stare at them. From out of the bushes comes a skinny Mexican man, with long kaki shorts, socks up to his knees, and a white tank top. He whistles at Chingar as the two embrace. He looks Gordo up and down. Gordo goes in for an embrace but the man sidesteps him.
Creeper
Yo, Joseph! Sorry sorry..El Chingar! What brings you here?
El Chingar
We came out here to train with you. Gordo over there has a fight coming up against some crazy irish fuck.
Creeper
Oh thas right thas right. You do that greased up man grab stuff now. Well, you came to the right place! I'm actually about to start a session right now.
Creeper claps his hands leaving Chingar confused, as he heads to the middle of the yard.
Creeper
Alright alright, listen up. Break time is over, time to get back to the session.
All the men lining the yard stop what they're doing. They form a circle around Creeper as Chingar and Gordo watch on.
Creeper
Alright now, at starting position. You're going to pivot your left foot at a ninety degree angle, with your right foot forward. You're going to slowly go down, like you're always down for your homies since day one.
The group led by Creeper slowly go down, as he lets out a a long whistle going an octave down. After a pause they all go back up as Creeper lets out a whistle an octave up.
Creeper
Good, good! Next up, grab your weights. The five pounds, we don't want you guys pulling a muscle in your trigger arms. We're going to put your fists together and elbows up. Now you're going to lean to the left (the group all lean) and lean to the right (the group continues). Remember to keep your chins up, you can't feel the power unless you feel the burn!
Chingar breaks through the group, stopping Creeper mid lean.
El Chingar
What the fuck is this? I thought you were legit?
Creeper
I am legit! I've left that life behind, and now I'm bringing the homies inner peace.
El Chingar
Inner peace? Ta loca inner peace! We have a fight coming up, and we came to prepare. I thought you were the homie Creeper?
Creeper drops his weights, as everybody stops to stare at Chingar.
Creeper
Hey! Don't you ever question my love for the homies! That's why I'm out here.
(Creeper calms down and picks his weights back up)
Ever since the doc diagnosed me with a hyper thigh…(pausing to think on how to pronounce the word)
Hypo-thermi-,hypo-tham, hypo...I got a neck thing. Ever since I was diagnosed, I realized life was too short, and I need to do what I can for my community.
Just give it a try, I think you'll be surprised by the results.
El Chingar
Fine!
(He whistles over at Gordo who waddles over to join the group)
Creeper
Alright, everybody on your bikes!
(the group and Gordo all get on a bike)
For this next one we're going to work on inner peace. Because through inner peace you're going to find inner strength, and that inner strength will turn into..outer...strength
The group start pedaling as Creeper walks back and forth surveying them.
Creeper
Nice and slow. Just a little warmup. You're cruising through the hood on a nice sunny day. Oh no! Your tia's Chihuahua got out and it's chasing you, pedal a little faster.
(the group speeds up)
Good, nice and easy. You're on the way to the homies sisters quinceanera, think clam thoughts, think how you're going to approach your homies cousin with the weird tooth. Oh no, your homie calls you and tells you he's out of beer.
Creeper walks to each biker and hands them a six pack of Modelo. He hands one to Gordo who fumbles it almost dropping it.
Creeper
Alright, now, you're going to slowly breath in and breath out. When you breath out I want you to put the modelo on your shoulder, working both your cardio and your upper body strength.
The group follows the instructions. Before he can get the beer to his shoulder, Chingar grabs Gordo off the bike.
El Chingar
No, we're done! I need an actual trainer. A real O.G.
Creeper
I'm disappointed. I thought you were open minded, but I guess not. Lucky for you I love the homies, so I do have somebody you can call. His name..
(whispering in Chingar's ear)
Poco Suerte
The homies let out a gasp at the sound of that name. A quiet "Poco Suerte?" is heard from afar as everybody is staring, and the scene fades out.
Toluca Lake, Los Angeles, California
Chingar and Gordo pull up to a semi nice house in a gated community. They walk up to the door and ring the doorbell. A large man opens the door, towering over the two. He stands there in silence
El Chingar
Uh yeah...I'm here to see..Poco Suerte?
The man steps back allowing the two entry. As they walk into the room, there are many men hanging out on couches and half broken furniture, counting money and other things. Smoke fills the air as Gordo starts coughing. They approach the end of the room where an older man with a long beard and an all black suit is sitting.
El Chingar
Ah yes...Poco...Poco Suerte?
Gordo coughs some more
El Chingar
(nudging Gordo) Shhhh. Hold it in if you have to!
The man in the suit whistles, as a door behind him is opened, then closed. They don't see anybody walk out. From behind the sitting men shuffles out a tubby four foot-five inch man. He has on kaki shorts that go to his feet. A white wife beater and a black cargo jacket over it, a floral print bandana around his head, and a crudely cut in tear drop carving on his face. The main in the suit gets up, giving him his seat.
Poco Suerte
(sniffs)
Ay, what you want foo?
El Chingar
Ah yes, we're here..humbly! We are here before you, in hopes of learning the ways of-
(Leaning in giving Poco Suerte before)
I feel like I've seen you before...aren't you..
El Gordo
(Interjecting)
It's the Leprechaun from the wrestling show!
Poco Suerte
Hey! I don't do that anymore!
El Chingar
Oh dude, I didn't know you can talk? Hey where is your shillelagh?
Poco Suerte jumps up pulling out a butterfly knife and spins it around
Poco Suerte
You wanna get stuck foo!
El Chingar
(taking a step back)
No no no no! We don't want any trouble. We just want to learn how to fight like a crazy person. We'll even pay you!
Suerte puts his knife away and sits back down.
Poco Suerte
Well why didn't you say so! Alright, I'll train you. Your first lesson is...A SURPRISE ATTACK!
All the men jump on Gordo and Chingar as the scene fades out to commercial.
It is exactly thirteen hours after one of the most brutal beatings in AWF history. Phil Goode has just been discharged from Mt. Sinai Hospital in Chicago, Illinois, and he is propped outside in a wheelchair… by the designated smoking area.
Phil Goode
(Huffing on a Lemon Haze TKO cartridge while trying to remain calm) It’s always ONE step forward… and then ONE knee back. No matter how hard it might be, sometimes you just gotta be the last to arrive and the last ONE to leave.
With the swiftest of fade in’s, a bulky HUD appears along the four sides of the frame. It shows the amount of life that Goode has left following the disgusting attack on PT7, his actual net worth (which is definitely in the seven-figure range), a radar that tracks his every last movement, his respect level (in AWF), and the current time.
Both armrests belonging to the wheelchair are occupied by abnormally long and slim bottles. They have mushroom-like caps that do more than just contain the contents within, and a humongous logo that spells… HOMUNCUMILK.
Phil Goode
(Simultaneously shot-gunning the beverages) AHHHHH… shit dude, I feel like a new man! (gulp)
Goode’s life bar has now grown immensely. It started at a concerning 15% but then (after a double shot of milk) it rocketed to an almost healthy 75%.
Phil Goode
(Slowly standing up from the wheelchair) I don’t even need this anymore. I gotta call Tommy.
Goode reaches for his phone in his mustard-colored velour sweatpants and struggles to find it for a moment. He pulls his phone out and begins dial a number.
Phil Goode
(Goode doesn’t even look while he presses the buttons) 6… 7… 8… triple 9… 8… 2… 1… OH goddamnit. What’s the last number man what the f… (breathy sigh) Maybe I’ll just call Tony?
Phil Goode
(Attempting to dial another number) 2… 8… 1… double 3… 0… 8… double 0… fo…
The phone rings. The cellular device rings again. The mobile connection device rings for the last time. It gets picked up on that ring.
?
(With another particular Houston cadence) Befo’ I came up in da game these hoes didn’t show no love!
Phil Goode
(Clearly caught off guard) Uh... I’m sorry to hear that… I guess. Is this Tony?
?
(With a shit-ton of digital reverb and delay) MIKE JONES! MIKE JONES! I bet dey change dey mind when dem eighty-fo’s come rolling up!
Phil Goode
I… do not doubt that at all Michael, my sincere apologies for your troubles with the ladies but… I gotta get ahold of someone. Thanks.
Mike Jones
(Spitting with a sped up southern twang) Hit MIKE JONES on da the low cuz MIKE JONES bouta to blow!
Phil Goode has had enough of Michael Jones’ antics and ends the call abruptly. He redials MIKE JONES’ number but this time, he changes the area code and replaces the fo’ with a 2. The phone doesn’t get the chance to ring because of how fast it is picked up.
Phil Goode
(Super-duper confuzzled) Hello? Hi? Please, can you tell me this is Tony? I feel like it's been on a mission looking for this guy.
Tony
Yes, it sure is. (With a specific Georgia accent)
What can I do for you? I’m kinda surprised you reached out boss.
Phil Goode
(Extremely frantic and stressing out) Hey man, look… I’m in Chicago and I’m at this hospital right now, I’m all banged up. I got banned from Lyft and Uber for some reason, and I don’t know who to can take me to my hotel. I know you have connections from Vinewood to Vice County, so do you think you can help me?
The voice on the other lines examines the situation further. He is hesitant to offer assistance and it shows.
Tony
Mhmmmm, I don’t think I have any buddies in Chicago at the moment, sorry pal. You mind me asking what happened? Maybe that can aid my search? I’m just super shocked… it’s been a while man.
Phil Goode
(Quickly agitated and quick-tempered) Lemme make this long story short. This guy who really believes he’s Walker, Texas Strangler… tried to make himself famous last night. This commando chump interrupted the best match of the night, MY MATCH… with this giant freak that everyone seems to love; Big H.
Tony
Big Horny? Big Hormones? Big Hhhass?
Goode chuckles a bit but is still in some pain despite slurping on that super drank.
Phil Goode
No. Big Homunculus… but that’s beside the point. This other guy really fucked me up. He did a number on me last night man.
Tony
Oh… interesting. (Spiteful) I know a little homegrown Georgia boy that you did the same thing to… unfortunately. You had his number since the first episode of Tuesday Night Primetime. And then on the second episode… you really dug in on em. You dialed up on all cylinders and you showed em how to be a real soldier in the field. I don’t think he ever forgave you. I don’t the fans did either. You know… they hate to see their military get kicked down. So… I’m sorry kid, but this aint your dear buddy Tony from around the way. THIS IS TONY SAVAGE. Do me this one favor. Go to hell you miserable sumabitch, I’m sure Lucifer has it nice and toasty for you. Fuck you Phil Goode. You will never be a champion.
“Fuck you Phil Goode. You will never be a champion” plays in his head like a sampleable loop while he realizes that he was not only hallucinating but he wasn’t even holding a real phone. The pain and displeasure, however, is 100% real. A hospital band is still wrapped to his wrist and his physical attributes are all clearly printed. He has been limping and hobbling around a local T-Mobile for an eternity. With no ride and no phone, Goode approaches a representative that has been watching him for the last 20 minutes and says…
Phil Goode
(Totally serious and stern) I need 15 of your most expensive phones ASAP.
T-Mobile Rep.
(Rightfully skeptical) Ahh… ok let me get this straight, you want 15 IPhone 11s?
Phil Goode
(Like an obnoxious, snobby, piece of Iowa Park trash) Make it 16 just because you want to question “The Greate Guxxe Gampedee”.
Per request, 16 brand-new IPhone 11s are brought to the front desk. “Guxxe” waits patiently for each phone to be activated and protected with an Otterbox case. He creates a new Gmail account and starts downloading Uber Plus on every last one of the devices. As soon as the app downloads on each phone, “The Greate Gampede” calls for a driver and relaxes the buzzing noise of 16 different Uber notifications.
Automated Text Message 1/16
Hi Phil! Your Uber driver Greg is on the way. For more push notifications, please click the link below. Enjoy your ride with Uber Plus.
“Gampedee” walks out of the store with two arms worth of phones and sits on the curb peacefully. Injured knee and all.
Crossfade from the scene to a view of the ring, where Johnny Manziel is already in the ring.
Mark Beverly: The following contest is the Debuter’s Dance triple threat set for one fall! Introducing first, in the ring: JOHNNY! MAN! ZIEL!
The crowd responds with a bit of a disregard as El Chingar leads El Gordo out with an obvious look of frustration as he beckons his recruit out. One smack to the back of the head does the trick, and Gordo leads the pair with a hand where he was hit.
Mark Beverly: Being accompanied to the ring by El Chingar: EL! GORRRRRRDO!
Gordo attempts to slide under the ring but his stomach gets somehow caught on the apron? Chingar has to help push him into the ring and untangle him from the awkward situation.
The lights in the arena dim as "Foggy Dew" starts to play over the speakers, most of the crowd in the arena tonight are singing along with the song. as Foggy Dew fades out we hear Conors walk out music start to play.
The crowd goes absolutely unglued for the Mystic Mac, whose theme is BLARING out of the speakers around the arena now. But he isn't walking out...the crowd dies down a little as the theme song is interrupted by none other than Conor McGregor. Conor is in his home office wearing what appears to be the finest suit that money can buy, both of his UFC belts over his shoulders with his feet on his desk.
Conor McGregor
Oi Oi Phillyyyyy!
The crowd comes unglued again...they fuckin' love Conor.
Conor McGregor
You should already know by now, I ain't in Philly tonight. But that's because of two major fookin' issues I got here. Number ONE. This if free fookin' TV, I ain't a free TV fighter. I am a Pay Per View caliber fighter. The money maker...nah fook that last one right off. I AM MONEY! Should put me on the hundred dolla bill instead of whatever geezer they 'ave on it.
Conor smirks, taking his feet off the table, both belts still over his shoulders.
Conor McGregor
Number TWO. You really t'ink I am that fookin' daft that I am gonna show up on TV and ruin my image? Nah fook all that. People should PAY to see what I can do in that ring of yours. I ain't some opening match motherfookers. I am the MAIN EVENT! You wanna try and put me in this fight with two other people who 'aven't even proved what they can do? You really want me to go out there and risk my fookin' life with some nobodies? Nah fook all that. I show up when its the right time for ME to show up. Not when the AWF management feels like puttin' me in a "Debuters Dance"...what the fook even is that?
Conor laughs to himself.
Conor McGregor
So you two enjoy ya little...circle jerk, or whatever the fook it's called. I'll show up when the AWF management puts me in a match worth my fookin' time.
And with that, McGregors video feed is cut.
Another downpour of negativity for the Commissioner as he comes through the curtain with a microphone in hand. Glaring around the ring, he steps to either side of the stage and forces the competitors inside the ring to wait before and obviously peeved Austin takes centerstage.
Commissioner Austin
Since all of you done pissed me awwwf! And I mean every last one of you Philadelphian swine! This is supposed to be the birthplace of America?! Hell, son, that’s why this country’s gone to shit! I mean look at ya! You make me sick!
Even louder are these boos, Austin’s scowl only going.
Commissioner Austin
Ya done pissed me off, and goddamn if I don’t wanna see someone get their head chopped off!
A sick smile turns Austin’s face.
The lights cut throughout the arena.
When they return THE JUDGE IS STANDING IN THE CENTER OF THE RING!
Ding!
Jim Ross: That’s a seven-foot-two, four hundred ten pound man!
Immediately Gordo hollers like a little girl falling off the swingset and turns to exit the ring, but The Judge is horrifyingly quick on his feet for his size and catches the waistband of Gordo-- IN ONE MOTION HE’S IN A FULL NELSON -- HE THROWS GORDO INTO MANZIEL!
Cut to the outside, where El Chingar has taken to getting far from the ring.
El Chingar: Orale!
With that, he hops the barricade and sprints out of the arena like Usain Bolt.
Cut to inside the ring, as El Gordo gets lifted into a double-chokeslam grip -- AND THROWS HIM ACROSS THE RING! Manziel is up BEFORE THE BIG BOOT SENDS HIM FLIPPING AND TURNING IN THE AIR!
Another double-chokeslam grip on Gordo --PULLING HIM UP WITH EASE THEN THROWING HIM ALL THE WAY OUT OF THE RING AND A QUARTER WAY UP THE RAMP BACK FIRST!
Manziel is knocked the fuck out and can’t do shit when The Judge lifts him over his head like Bane would Batman -- AND CRACK HIS BACK OVER THE KNEE!
The Judge stands only to press the foot hard against Johnny’s heart.
Filipe Santana: ONE!
TWO!....
THREE!
DING DING DING
A whip of the body turns his body around to the hard camera in one motion.
A close up shot of the man from the chest up.
No emotion can be seen through the mask.
Just the stare.
Everything goes black.
The Judge d. Johnny Manziel & El Gordo in 1:27
Fading back into the scene, the funeral has moved to one of the fields situated in the Hardy Compound. The rain is still falling like bullets, however the various guests share umbrellas for shelter. As the camera pans around the gathering, we see a large hole in the ground next to a pile of fresh, wet dirt. The guests talk between themselves as a man in his mid-fifties steps forward, his long, soaked hair draped thinly down his back and over the shoulders of his now see-through shirt. In a thick Baritone voice, he gains the attention of all.
Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam
Ladies and Gentlemen, silence please.
Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam calms the crowd as the six large pallbearers begin their walk to the gravesite, Jeff’s coffin balanced on their shoulders.
Mag Aluf offers a bro-fist as they pass him, as his way of thanking them for travelling from Alberta.
Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam
Yes I understand, That every life must end. As we sit alone, I know someday we must go.
Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam begins reciting as the pallbearers place the coffin onto the supports, ready to be lowered into the grave.
Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam
I wonder everyday As I look upon your face, Everything you gave And nothing you would take. Nothing you would take, Everything you gave
Mag Aluf, Albert, Matt and the Dudleys proceed to each take a shovel and begin filling the grave with the fresh dirt as Jeff is finally laid to rest in the earth. The unrelenting rain pelts the sodden soil, making it that little heavier, although the task was already fairly heavy for a variety of reasons.
Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam
Nothing you would take. Everything you gave. Hold me 'till I die.
The men finish filling the ground, levelling off the dirt and replacing their shovels. Mag removes the gold chain from his neck, he presses it to his lips, holds it to the sky and drops it onto the grave, before walking back to the rest of the guests.
Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam
Meet you...On the other side.
Eddie Vedder bows his head and steps back. Mag finds himself standing next to an incredibly large bald man, outfitted with various ball-tipped labrets jotting from his lower lip.
Mag Aluf
Ay bro, you’re a big-ass dude, bro. You here for Jeff or the puss bro? These things are like shooting clunge in a barrel bro.
Prince Albert
Got all the puss I need brother. I’m here to pay respects.
Mag nods a little with the man.
Mag Aluf
Yeah bro… Same here bro. Puss is good and all, but death is like, sick man. Fuckin’ dope, bro.
For the first time in recent memory, Mag actually seems slightly uneasy, most likely due to the sheer size of this unit next to him.
Mag Aluf
So, how’d you know my dog? Never saw your gigantoid self around the flat.
Prince Albert
Yeah… not spoken to Jeff in years. Think last time I saw him was in a place called RPW. He was a real good kid, he had potential like I’d never seen… I know his life was on a downward slope but I never thought he’d axe himself off like that. You can’t help but feel like you should’ve done something you know? I have access to a lot of money at the moment, maybe I could’ve reached out? Helped? I dunno.
Mag’s eyes widen slightly at the mention of ‘help’, given Mag’s involvement. Ultimately though, he doesn’t really give a shit - You kill yourself, you’re a fucking loser bro.
Mag Aluf
Yeah man, sure. How much money do you mean bro? Because I can get you a sick fuckin’ deal on the ‘ole disco salt - you get me bro? You get me? D’you get me dog? It’s of paramount fuckin’ importance you get me bro.
Mag twitches a little as he ends his short tangent, he’s got a problem, people. Albert just glares at him in disbelief.
Prince Albert
Are you fucking kidding me? Did I just hear you right!?
Albert stands, looming over Mag.
Prince Albert
Let me tell you one thing right now, friend, there’s only one person who gets to call me ‘Dog’, and it’s not you!
Mag Aluf takes a steady step backwards, bringing his open palms up towards his chest.
Mag Aluf
Ay bro, chill man, okay? It ain’t a thing do-bro.
Mag’s never actually felt the need to watch his words before so the experience shakes him slightly. The usual confidence Mag holds doesn’t seem to stay with him when face-to-face with someone of Albert’s stature. Mag’s demeanour changes, not that Albert would know.
Mag Aluf
Listen Bro. Shit is fuckin’ whack right now, alright? A couple weeks ago I was living the fuckin’ easy life, not a single fuckin’ worry. Then suddenly my fuckin’ bro, my fuckin’ Jeff dies. I didn’t have shit except that fuckin’ dude, man. Shit, bro. Now I live in a fuckin' gym ran by a man I'm fairly certain is a sex offender and I rub up against dudes covered in fuckin' baby lotion for a living.
Albert looks to calm down, looking down at the smaller man before him with sympathy. He nods a few times slowly.
Prince Albert
I’m sorry. I can imagine that hurting. How did you end up meeting Jeff anyway?
The scene transitions via a wave, the usual transition used in TV and films to denote a flashback - whatever they’re fucking called.
Jeff Hardy’s house
Cameron, North Carolina
We see a young woman in a maid outfit dusting various pieces of Jeff Hardy’s shite artwork, as well as an assortment of replica championship belts, one for every real title Jeff had won at the time.
She hears a glass shatter and runs to the source of the noise, a look of panic on her face.
Woman
Irving!
She rounds the corner to find the cause of the smash. Jeff Hardy stands there, holding a small child, no older than 2 years old. On the floor lies the remains of a glass tumbler.
Jeff Hardy
Sorry to startle you Holli, I knocked a glass over and didn’t want little Irving to stand in it.
Jeff hands the child to Holli, who was about to crouch down to clean the mess.
Jeff Hardy
Don’t worry about that Holli. You just look after my little buddy here.
He smiles at Irving, Irving smiles back at Hardy.
Holli
My apologies Mr. Hardy, I appreciate you giving me a job and allowing my son and myself to live here. You honestly saved our lives after his father left.
Jeff offers a small dismissive wave.
Jeff Hardy
Holli, you’re one of my oldest friends - my home will always be yours, and your Irvings.
Jeff finishes cleaning up the glass shards and drops it into the closest trash can. He pats Holli on her shoulder and ruffles Irving’s hair before setting off.
Jeff Hardy
If you need me, I’ll be in the lab.
Holli walks to a small side room which houses a small cot-bed and is adorned with various colourful doodles, designs and stuffed toys. A Hardy Boyz branded mobile hangs above the crib. Holli places Irving into the crib, laying him down and kissing his head.
Holli
Oh how I must thank Mr. Hardy for all he’s done for us. Despite the Meth Lab in the basement - which is incredibly difficult to clean on account of the extremely volatile and flammable chemicals and the illegality of it all, which does add a weight to the old moral compass - this really is a great deal we have here.
She spins the mobile and kisses Irving again before leaving the room, turning the lights off as he does so.
Irving awakes at an unspecified amount of time later, to the sound of a loud boom followed by screaming and bright lights surrounding him. He looks through the slats in his crib to see the hallway outside of his room is almost completely engulfed in flame, pieces of the ceiling hanging on by the electrical wiring of the property. Holli runs towards the room but is caught by falling debris and pinned to the ground. She desperately tries to reach for her child but is unable to due to the crushing weight bearing down onto her small frame. Irving cries as the fire crackles outside of the door.
Suddenly, the window smashes! In jumps Jeff Hardy! He runs to Holli to help lift the debris from her but is unsuccessful due to the weight and heat radiating from the burning ceiling supports.
Holli
Please… Irving…
Jeff gently kisses her hand before standing, turning to grab Irving and taking him to the window.
Holli
Irving… Mommy.. Loves y-
Irving watches as his mother is engulfed in the flames and the house collapses on top of her while Jeff carries him to safety. Once outside, Jeff can be heard almost crying whilst speaking to Matt.
Jeff Hardy
What about Jack, man? Where’s Jack?
Matt Hardy
I don’t know man! The Lab just went up! Hey is that a kid?
Jeff turns and picks up Irving.
Jeff Hardy
He was my maid’s son… His home is with me now, and I’ll raise him as if he were my own.
We wave transition back to Mag Aluf at the funeral.
Mag Aluf
‘09 was a fuckin’ mad one, bro.
Albert just nods, slowly, his face contorted into an expression of bewilderment. Everything he had just listened to was the most obviously fictitious bullshit he’d ever heard in his life. That story would mean Mag Aluf is 11 years old. Albert puts his head in his hands, and breaths out.
Prince Albert
Why do I meet such strange people?
Priscilla Kelly
Doggy!
And at that, Albert perks up, a big smile on his face, his tongue dangling out of his mouth as he pants like a dog. Mag Aluf grimaces. Priscilla Kelly moves over to the pair, long red hair billowing down a very beautiful black dress, fighting tightly to her figure, and showing off plenty of her pale white skin.
Priscilla Kelly
The vending machine swallowed my quarter. I need you to either punch the glass in, or rock it til my Fanta falls down. I’d do it, but I hear that Vending Machines kill around 2 people a year, and if that shit tips over, you have a much better chance of surviving it than I do. I was willing to let you come to this dull fucking thing, so it’s the least you can do for me.
Prince Albert
Yes Mistress Kelly.
Priscilla glances over at Mag Aluf momentarily. She gives him a small smile, before her eyes involuntarily scan him up and down.
Priscilla Kelly
Aren’t you the new guy? You clocked Eclipse with that selfie stick last week, right?
Mag Aluf is taken aback for a moment, he’d never set eyes on a being such as Priscilla Kelly, a woman who actually seemed to have a presence.
Mag Aluf
I’ll be honest but I don’t have a fuckin’ clue what an Eclipse is and I was off my fuckin’ nut on some Grade-A Co-Cah-Een-Ah. But if you think that shit was cool then fuck yeah did I do it, selfie sticks are sick, br-
Mag has to catch himself. Today was definitely a day of firsts for him, he’d seen a corpse flung like a catherine wheel, he’d basically met Eddie Fuckin’ Vedder of Pearl Jam, been told not to call someone dog and actually found the first person he doesn’t feel should be called Bro. Was Mag a feminist now? Probably not but Priscilla Kelly is hot so who fuckin’ knows what’s going through his mind - I don’t and I fucking made him up.
Priscilla Kelly
Oh, okay. Well, if being off your nut on that shit means more results like that bitch Eclipse getting her skull caved in, then I’m the gal you want to impress, cos I can have plenty of that shit sent your way. That is of course…
Priscilla reaches out and squeezes Mag by the balls. He holds in a squeal the best he can, as Kelly clutches his testicles tightly in a vice grip, her breathing warming his nose as she gets up close to his face.
Priscilla Kelly
If you stay on my good side. You’ll stay on my good side, won’t you?
Mag Aluf glances down to his big ‘ole balls and magnum dong, and by extension Kelly’s hand. He barely contains a squeal but by god he manages it.
Mag Aluf
I’ll kill Eddie fuckin’ Vedder if you want.
Priscilla Kelly
I mean- umm, well, I didn’t ask for that. Or anything remotely like that, but it’s nice to know what lengths you’d go to for me. I think we’re on the same page.
She releases his ballsack finally, and Mag lets out a puff of air. Priscilla turns her back to him as she starts to walk away, turning her head to give him one last look.
Priscilla Kelly
By the way, you’re really packing down there. If you ever want to stop by the house, I can do a lot more to those balls than squeeze ‘em.
Priscilla sends a wink his way, before turning and walking off with her doggy in tow.
Mag watches as they leave, silently. Kelly seems to walk in slow-motion as Mag attempts to take in as many of her features and details as possible, He’d never felt something like this before, his heart beating like he was back in elementary school, sniffing glue in the staff lounge. He pulls out his phone, and quickly types in a number before holding it to his ear.
Mag Aluf
Hey bro, yeah I need a ride back to Alberta… Yeah, Alberta, Canada you fuckin’ pedo. And get me some Durex - I’ve just met the future Mrs. Aluf… Some guy called her Mistress Kelly… Yeah that’s the one… She did what? Bro that’s sick… Yeah… Bro, I’d drag my balls through a mile of broken glass to sniff the tire of the garbage truck carrying her used tampon… And yeah, Peking duck bro, the fuckin’ spread here was shit.
Mag hangs up and turns to see Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam typing on his phone.
Mag Aluf
Hey! Eddie fuckin’ Vedder of Pearl Jam!
Eddie turns to face where the voice originated, he offers a wave towards Mag as he continues walking. Right into oncoming traffic. Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam is hit by a speeding car, his body rolling onto the hood of the vehicle before being flung into the middle of the busy road. Scratched and bruised, he struggles to get to his feet causing him to crawl back towards the safety of the compound, unfortunately as he is so low to the ground, the driver of the 18-wheeler driving in that lane couldn't see him. Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam lets out a bloodcurdling scream as his head explodes under the tire of the truck with a quick crack and wet squelching.
Mag Aluf
Holy fuckin’ shit bro! Not Eddie fuckin’ Vedder of Pearl Jam!
Mag pulls out a baggy of his signature blend cocaine and takes a fat rip.
Mag Aluf
Fuck sake, he was gonna teach me how to play Corduroy from the 1994 album Vitalogy.
We fade out as people rush to the now-headless corpse of Eddie Vedder while Mag walks away in the background.
INT. Backstage - NIGHT
Spud sits by a watching on in terror as Orange Cassidy and Laci Valentine are beat down, Panda has his hand on his friends shoulder drink in hand also watching along. In the background Ziggy flirts with a female stage hand and Fringe further in the background is playing with wall paper.
As multiple paramedics quickly get Orange Cassidy backstage to the Best Friends, 1 grossly under-qualified, barely 18, medic haphazardly gets Laci onto a stretcher and awkwardly wheels her up the ramp, even bumping her on the barricade on the way up.
Spud runs to just past the curtain. Laci's stretcher is pushed through the curtain and the medic accidentally tips it over. Spud and Panda run over and help the medic stand it back up.
Spud
Is she gonna be okay.
Medic
I dunno?
Panda
Where's the ambulance?
Medic
It'll be here in half an hour.
Spud
Are you serious! Fucking, half an hour.
Medic
Sorry dude....
Spud gets angry with the teenage medic but takes a deep breath to think through the situation.
Spud
We'll take it from here mate. PANDA, ZIGGY!
Panda stands to attention like a good soldier, Ziggy is still flirting with the stage hand.
Ziggy
Yeah baby, I'm Rockstar Spud’s best friend, he's always getting us into little adventures, I usually save the day. No biggy.
The stage hand caws and blushes.
Spud
ZIG, NOW!
Ziggy
Looks like it's time for Ziggy to save the day again. Wait right here, okay beautiful.
The stage hand giggles and Ziggy moves over to Spud and Panda.
Spud
Right lads, you need to empty the back of the van. FRINGEY! What do you need.
Fringe looks up from the wallpaper and slowly assesses the situation, this a man on a crazy amount of downers like Xanax and Weed.
Fringe
(Slowly and Zen)
Zig.... Get my bag.... I need 3 aspirin, 2 tricortirod, 1 of those weird yellow pills we got from the old folks home and Rumours.
Panda and Ziggy both sprint to the van, Spud and Fringe slowly follow. The CRASHES and BANGS of tons of musical equipment being emptied out of the van can be heard.
Panda runs past Fringe, Spud and Laci with an amp under either arm.
Spud
Stick it all in my locker room for now.
Ziggy runs towards the group with satchel and a 12 inch vinyl of Fleetwood Mac Rumours.
Ziggy passes both to Fringe and then gives him 3 different sets of tablets, Fringe balances Rumours on Laci's abdomen, Fringe drops 6 tablets on the record.
Spud and Ziggy watch on in silence.
Fringe uses his watch to smash the tablets into 1 thick powder, he then pulls a crazy straw from his pocket and with precision lines it up.
BEAT
Fringe sniffs the entire powder in one. Panda is running past grabbing more equipment while this is going on.
We watch as Fringes entire demeanour changes, colours become more vibrant, the world begins to move faster and more importantly make sense, it's like that bit in Limitless where the guy takes the Limitless pill.
Fringe
Lets get her turned onto her side slightly and then ease her onto the back of the bus, ZIggy give me a G sharp.
Ziggy picks up a nearby guitar and plays a G Sharp.
Fringe
Spud, remember that note, if any of her breaths or wails hit that note tell me she'll need turning over and alternate care.
Panda grabs the guitar from Ziggy along with various cases of equipment and runs off.
Fringe
Now on 3, we all lift in sync, this isn't gonna work if one of us tries to be a hero and overexerts, we don't wanna drop her. 1, 2, 3.
The 3 lift and carefully get the stretcher onto the back of the Local Leather Tour Bus. Spud walks around to the front of the van, Fringe stays in the back, taking care of Laci.
Fringe
I need the bong and I need the accordion, now.
Spud
DO NOT GIVE HIM A BONG!
Fringe
Get me the bong Zig?
Ziggy takes the bong out of the bag and slides it over to Fringe.
Spud
ARE YOU INSANE, THIS WILL TURN HIM BACK.
Fringe ignores Spud and slowly unscrews the bottom.
Spud
Wait what are you doing?
Fringe
Accordion, now!
Ziggy passes over the accordion and watches on puzzled, Spud also watches on.
Fringe fixes the bong and accordion together creating a ventilator.
Ziggy and Spud both have massive WOW! faces.
Fringe
Elastic band around the head, so it's fixed to her, then I'll be able to control her air flow, lessening any damage, including but not reduced to possible concussive symptoms.
Fringe bundles in the back and fixes the ventilator to Laci's head.
Panda runs back to the van, there is just a small amount of equipment left outside it.
Spud
Panda, keys.
Panda
I'm not going with you?
Spud
I need him (pointing at Fringe doing paramedic shit in the back) and I don't trust him to watch the shit (pointing at Ziggy looking at himself in the van mirror and slowly gyrating). Make sure you tell Lucy what's going on.
Panda agrees and passes Spud the keys.
Panda grabs Ziggy and prizes him away from his own reflection, the 2 move to the back of the van as Spud gets in the drivers seat. Panda slides a bottle of water towards Ziggy in the back before shutting the van doors.
Fringe
Was just about to ask for that, best nurse today Panda mate.
The doors shut and Spud puts his foot down, the tour bus speeds away.
INT. TOUR BUS - NIGHT
Spud drives with focus, every now and then checking on Laci in the rear view mirror. Fringe catches him doing so whilst he gives Laci some water.
Fringe
You're doing great Spud, everything is under control.
Spud seems set at ease.
Spud
How'd you know all this stuff?
Fringe
A combination of 24 Hours In A&E, MacGyver and a shit load of drugs?
Spud nods along as Fringe fixes the ventilator back to Laci's face and lifts the accordion end.
Fringe
Any requests?
Spud
What?!
Fringe
Well to control the breathing I'm gonna have to play it, any requests?
Spud
What do you know?
Fringe
Oh actually just this one....
Spud
JEEESUS MATE, THAT'S HARDLY APPROPRIATE!
Fringe
(Continuing to play)
You know anything on accordion?
Spud
Just that, you taught it to me, SHIT!
BEAT
Fringe
You gonna sing along?
Spud
No, I could never, oh my days, as if you'd even ask, it's bad enough you've gotta play it.
A FEW MINUTES LATER
Spud
(Dramatically singing)
In a tree by the brook,
There's a songbird who sings,
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiving,
Fringe
(echoing)
sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiving,
Lacis breathing makes a distinctively G Sharp sound. Spud worriedly looks up but Fringe cool calm and collective eases her onto her other side.
Fringe
Keep going man.
Spud nods.
Spud & Fringe
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
The pair are having way too much fun for the validity of the situation.
CROSSFADE TO....
Fringe removes the ventilator.
The backdoors swings open and doctors and nurses swarm to the aid of Laci Valentine, quickly getting her out of the van and rushing her into the hospital. Spud sits in the front of the van, Fringe climbs through to sit alongside his friend.
Fringe
You not gonna go in?
Spud
Lucy's already here, she's only allowed one right now.
Fringe
You did good mate.
Spud
Me, what about you, Doctor, Robert Plant, MacGyver.
The pair laugh as Fringe picks up the makeshift ventilator. Fringe opens the glove box revealing a shit load of weed.
Fringe
(Popping some weed into the bong end)
Well how about you play that nice song and Dr Robert Plant MacGyver gets himself good and stoned.
Spud grabs the accordion end and begins to play as Fringe lights the weed.
Crossfade.
Orange Cassidy’s limp body is rolled out of the ring and carried to the back, just like his opponent. The medics go through the curtain and begin to look him over. Realizing that he’ll probably be ok, the medics find the Best Friends and hand him off. Trent and Chuck carry his corpse to the locker room and lay him down across a few chairs.
Some time passes and OC finally comes to, sitting up quickly in the process. The Best Friends rush over their now awake amigo.
Orange Cassidy
What happened?
Chuck
Dude it was crazy! Your match was about to start and then the ref got a DDT from this mask dude and then the mask dude hit you with a diamond cutter....
Orange gets up and slowly stumbles to the door. The Best Friends stand in front trying to run interference.
Trent
Where are you going?
Orange Cassidy
To the trainers room, I feel like shit.
Chuck
Well then let us…
Orange slams his fist into the door.
Orange Cassidy
Haven’t you two done enough? You’re the whole reason why DDP attacked me! You were so boneheaded that you stole a title from god damn Diamond Dallas Page and it made me lose the match! Get out of my way.
Orange pushes past his friends to make it out into the hallway. He walks slowly, clutching his neck, looking for the trainers room. After aimlessly wandering for what seems like half an eternity to OC, he finally finds the trainers room. Outside the room about ten feet from the door Albert and S2 are arguing about something while Cranston is trying to keep them apart. As OC gets closer to the door, head trainer Reginald Nowinski walks out of the room.
Reginald Nowinski
Hey man, I’ll look you over in a little bit. I gotta go grab some stuff for Priscilla and then it’ll be your turn.
Reginald continues going wherever the hell he was heading to as Orange walks into the trainers room and takes a seat in a chair. The whole room is no larger than a walk-in closet, so Priscilla Kelly is lying on the table covered in cuts and bruises, no less than five feet from Orange. Despite the physical pain she must be in, Priscilla looks… happy. A small smile rests on her face, almost passively, as she idly lolls her head until she spots Cassidy. The smile on her face grows bigger as she becomes immediately aware of his presence.
Priscilla Kelly
Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes Mr. Cassidy.
Orange Cassidy
I’m gonna take it by your smile that you won your title match?
Priscilla Kelly
Of course I did. It was never a question. I didn’t just win the battle either, I won the war… or atleast... I will.
Priscilla notices that Orange’s expression seems to be one of exasperation.Though, Orange was hardly an open book with his emotions.
Priscilla Kelly
You look, upset. Sorry if that wasn’t the way you wanted things to go in your match…
Orange shrugs and leans back in his chair..
Orange Cassidy
I mean obviously that’s not the way I wanted it to go down…
Priscilla lets out a sigh.
Priscilla Kelly
I thought you of all people might not really care about the means to the end y’know? Interference is just like, part of the game…
Orange Cassidy
Not when they’re attacking me…
Priscilla Kelly
What!? They attacked you!?
Orange Cassidy
Yeah… didn’t you see?
Priscilla Kelly
No, I was preparing stuff! Oh those dumb mother fuckers! DOGGY! S2! Get in here now!
A rather worried Prince Albert and S2 move into the room, Cranston moves in too, shaking.
Cranston
Do you need me too Mistress Kelly?
Priscilla Kelly
No Cranston fuck off.
Cranston
Oh thank god.
Priscilla Kelly
Did you two dumb pieces of shit attack Orange!? Really!? That was the opposite of what I asked you to fucking do!
S2
We didn’t attack Orange!
Priscilla Kelly
That’s not what he said S2! He just said you wasted him mid-match! Is Laci Valentine in the Chamber now!? God dammit!
Orange blinks in her direction.
Orange Cassidy
DDP knocked me out with a diamond cutter and I only woke up like ten minutes ago...Did you?...Did they?...What happened?
Priscilla Kelly
Wait what? DDP? He’s not on my fucking payroll.
Prince Albert
Mistress… DDP interfered in the match too, before we could, and they clocked Cassidy. But don’t worry, we undid that mess and clocked Laci. Cassidy won, trust me. I placed him on top of her for the pin myself.
Albert turns to Orange.
Prince Albert
You heard it here first buddy, you’re in the Chamber. And you have Priscilla to thank. They were her orders.
Orange looks up from counting on his fingers trying to piece things together in his head. He turns to Albert and then to Priscilla.
Orange Cassidy
Thanks?...Thanks?...Why did you do that?
Priscilla Kelly
Because, now you’re in the Chamber, and I get to spend more time with you.
She grins at Cassidy. S2 is already filing out of the room, Albert following close behind, but not before shooting a rather hate-filled look Cassidy’s way.
Orange Cassidy
If you wanted to spend more time with me we could have gone to get ice cream or gone for a drink or something, but the chamber? If you wanted a match we could have just asked Bret Bruce.
Priscilla Kelly
You think Bret Hart would give me what I want in this place? You haven’t paid much attention then sweetheart. Everything I’ve ended up with in this place I’ve fought tooth and nail for, and Bret’s tried stopping me every step of the way. And besides, we can go for an ice cream or a drink any time, when will we get another chance to fight in an Elimination Chamber together?
Orange Cassidy
Next year? I’m gonna assume it becomes an annual thing, these gimmicks always do.
Priscilla Kelly
I don’t wait that long Orange. It sounds like you don’t want to be in there with me? Is something wrong?
Orange Cassidy
It’s not that. I feel bad for Laci, she’s good people and I kinda screwed her.
Priscilla Kelly
You didn’t screw her. Your bone head friends screwed her. That match was gonna be a mess anyway, it was ruined from the start. If not for me, and my meddling, your own friends and their dumbassery would’ve cost you that match, I just set things right. I made it so you came out on top of that dumpster fire.
Orange Cassidy
Yeah I guess. They always mean well though. Say, what do you mean spend time with you? I’m gonna be fighting for your title.
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah honey, but you won’t win. I’m just too good.
Priscilla leans over and gives a playful punch to Orange’s arm.
Priscilla Kelly
But how cute will it be when it gets down to just me and you? I’ll try to finish you with a roll-up, if you’d rather that? I don’t want to DDT that pretty face onto the steel.
Orange folds his hands in front of him and leans forward in his seat. He is staring at his hands as if deep in thought.
Orange Cassidy
A week ago I almost died. I’ve tasted my own blood more times than I could count. I’ve been burned, scarred and left for dead and people still call me a joke. I may not have liked the way I got into the match, but now I’m in it and I’m gonna give it everything I have. If you want to spend time together we can do that some other time because come the Elimination Chamber I’m either leaving as Champion or I’m not leaving at all…
Orange slowly lifts his head up.
Orange Cassidy
Sorry it’s been a long couple of weeks.
Priscilla just lays on the table, looking inquisitively at Orange. She raises her eyebrows, before her lips curl into a smile and she leans towards him.
Priscilla Kelly
God I wanna suck your dick right now.
Orange blinks at her.
CUT
Barron Boneius sits in a nice jacket at a bar. Snivley sits next to him on a high stool, even on the stool he just peaks over the bar top. A bartender comes over and hands them both a beer. He pauses before giving the drink to Snivley.
Bartender
You old enough?
Snivley
(Pause) Yes.
Bartender
Ok.
He gives the drink over and walks away. Boneius connects two straws together and put the straw in Snivley's drink so he can reach it. The two both take swigs. Boneius takes out a post it note, written on it, “Eye think you suck”.
Barron Boneius
After these boozy beverages shall we bounce over to brew a blast?
Snivley looks up at him confused.
Barron Boneius
Lets go stick this on Black Clyde's car.
Snivley pauses, then nods along and smiles. Boneius looks at him, scowling.
Barron Boneius
What?
Snivley
Nothing, it’s very evil.
Boneius continues to scowl.
Snivley
Master, might I speak freely?
Barron Boneius
No.
Snivley shuts up and drinks a little more.
Barron Boneius
Fine.
Snivley
Ever since you met that, that, woman, you’ve been different master.
Boneius raises his hand to smack Snivley but holds it in the air.
Barron Boneius
This note is purest evil! How dare you suggest I’m not evil.
Snivley
I didn’t –
Barron Boneius
I’m evil, I’m more evil than ever!
Annie emerges from the side and takes Boneius’s hand.
Annie
I leave for 2 minutes.
The sound of Annie’s voice soothes Boneius, he lowers his raised hand.
Annie
No sign of Leslie yet? She was meant to meet us here. She wanted to talk tactics for the big six man tag team.
Barron Boneius
I've beaten the rebel Raging Dead before, the obnoxious orange is old news and the rubbish rocker Spud is past his prime.
At the mention of Spud Snivley smiles. Annie laughs. The more Boneius hears her voice the more his expression turns from a scowl to a smile. The bartender comes over, with a drink already in hand.
Bartender
Courtesy of Bob.
The bartender points to a larger man sat a few stools down who smiles at her. Annie pushes the drink back.
Annie
Tell him it's fine.
Bob
Tell me yourself sweet stuff.
Bob is suddenly sat right next to her. Boneius leans to the side so he can see Bob. Bob smiles.
Bob
Oh shit, you’re that fucking Hollywood guy from the TV.
Bob turns back to Annie.
Bob
Bet he must treat you real nice.
Annie
Yup.
Annie turns to Boneius who is starting to look annoyed.
Bob
I’d treat you real nice.
Annie
Sure.
She doesn’t even turn to him. Bob looks at Boneius.
Bob
No hard feelings man, just cos there’s a goalie doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take a shot right. And oh mama, is she one fine goal post.
Annie
Ignore him.
Bob hears this and turns back to face the bar.
Bob
(Whispering)
Stuck up bitch, it's a compliment.
Boneius immediately tenses. Annie takes his arm.
Annie
Ignore, him.
Bob gets up to take a call and walks out. As he’s leaving he turns to the bartender.
Bob
Get me another beer.
He turns to Boneius.
Bob
I’ll be here for a while.
As soon as he’s left Boneius gets up and heads to the door.
Annie
Boneius stop.
Barron Boneius
I’m just going to ask him to leave.
Boneius walks out and around the side of the bar to an alley. Bob is stood there on the phone.
Bob
It didn’t work, I tried but –
He sees Boneius and hangs up.
Bob
What the fuck you doing out here.
Barron Boneius
Leave you lesser leech.
Bob
Make me pussy.
Bob swings a punch and clocks Boneius. Bob immediately starts wailing on him. He’s a surprisingly competent fighter. Boneius blocks a few hits but takes most. Boneius manages to trip him.
Barron Boneius
Stay down.
Bob spits out some blood and gets up and charges him. He throws Boneius to the ground. Boneius is able to throw him off, but as Boneius rolls over Bob gets onto his back and hits him over the head with a pipe. Boneius goes limp for a moment, giving Bob the opportunity to use the pipe to get Boneius in a choke hold.
Bob
What the fuck are you even meant to be. You’re not a man, you’re some fucking Hollywood fake. I bet your dad must be real proud.
Boneius is looking directly down at a puddle, at his reflection. A drop of blood falls into the puddle. The reflection turns a sickly red. As if his skull face has a bloody red hand print on it.
Boneius throws his head back, hitting Bobs. Bob grabs his nose as he falls off Boneius. Slowly Boneius gets up. His movements are different. Slow, deliberate, cold. He lifts up the pipe as Bob gets up. Bob swings a punch, Boneius dodges gracefully and swings the pipe at his arm. The sound of bones breaking echoes through the alley as Bob lets out a yell. Before he can finish this cry Boneius rams the pipe through Bobs knee.
Boneius grabs Bob by the neck, silencing his screams. Bob looks into Boneius’s eyes. They are glazed over, his expression blank. With his free hand Boneius quickly strikes Bob in the ribs. Again the sound of bones shattering reverberates around them.
Bob
(Whimpering)
Please, please.
Boneius walks deeper into the alley, dragging Bob by the neck before smashing him against a metal dumpster. Boneius grabs the man’s head and smashes it into the metal over and over again with brutal speed and force. He then drops Bob, so he slumps down the bin.
Bob
(Weak, through a bloody mouth)
It was just a job, I swear, plea -
Boneius slams his knee into Bobs head. Bob falls to the ground. Boneius puts his foot on his throat and pressed down. Annie and Snivley emerge from round the corner. Annie gasps as she sees the bloody alley and Boneius at the end, coldly looking down at the man as he crushes his throat.
Annie
Boneius!
Annie runs over him.
Annie
Boneius stop!
The glaze lifts from the Barron’s eyes. As is awakening from a trance he steps backwards, taking deep breaths; eventually he falls to the ground. Annie goes up to him and kneels by him. Snivley looks on. Annie turns to him.
Annie
Go, go give Clyde that stupid note or whatever, just leave.
Snivley scuttles away. Boneius kneels in silence. Annie holds his head in her hands.
Annie
What did you do Boneius, what did you do?
CUT TO
Boneius back at home stood in his garage gym. The door is open, its dark, but the sound of the rain outside is heard. Annie walks over to him.
Annie
I can’t always be there to calm you. I don’t think you should fight, it’s not safe.
Barron Boneius
I can control it.
They both stand in silence looking out into the darkness.
CUT TO
Snivley is stood outside Black Clyde's gym, he has the note in hand. After a long moment, he crumples up the note and throws it aside. He pulls out a crappy old Nokia phone and scrolls through his contacts till he sees the name "Dr Stefan Camer" and dials. Quickly the call is answered and we hear a familiar voice.
Dr Stefan Camer
Vhat does my least favourite creation vant now?
EXT. BAR - NIGHT
Orang Cassidy stands before a rather rough and ready looking bar with Harley Davison motorcycles as far as the eye can see parked outside.
OC checks his phone, a text from Rockstar Spud ‘wanna maybe come to my gig? It’s at The Blue Roadhouse’. Orange looks up at a black and blue sign ‘The Blue Roadhouse; Motorcycle and Working Mans Club’, Orange shrugs and walks past the bikes to the door.
INT. BAR, BACKSTAGE - NIGHT
Rockstar Spud peers through a curtain at a sea of people, angry, leather vest clad, gorilla looking men and sat propping up the bar is Raging Dead, he is offered a wide birth by the other men, regardless of the fact he’s not in motorcycle gang, he’s fucking Raging Dead, not to be messed with. Swigging Whiskey.
Spud is still staring out.
Fringe
What are we waiting for?
Spud
OC, when I asked if he was coming he replied with a half assed thumbs up. In OC talk that means I wouldn't miss it for the world Rockstar Spud, let’s be best friends.
Fringe
You sure you’re not making it more than it is.
Spud
We’re gonna be mates.
Fringe
We need to get out there.
Right as Fringe talks the door swings open and in steps Orange Cassidy. Spud see’s this a smile forms. Every set of eyes in the room turns to him, his denim on denim is a stark contrast to the leather vest clad men populating the room.
Spud
Well what are we waiting for let’s get on.
INT. BAR - NIGHT
All the bikers stare on as Cassidy moves to the bar. Orange walks up to the bar and stands directly next to Raging Dead, he gives the bartender a look as though he should already know what he wants. The bartender glares at OC also, you can cut the tension with a knife.
Raging Dead
He’s with me, he’ll have orange juice.
Orange Cassidy:
Make it a screwdriver
Raging Dead looks at Orange with a raised eyebrow as Local Leather awkwardly bundle out onto the stage.
The band all look somewhat nervous at the size and demeanour of their audience.
Crowd Member
Play a song then assholes.
The other bikers laugh.
Spud tries to laugh off the comment and the band begin to play this:
As the band is playing, to a less than mixed response, the bartender drops OC’s screwdriver in front of him. Orange throws a dollar on the bar as he picks up the glass and brings it to his lips.
Raging Dead
Alright let’s…
OC holds up his hand as he finishes his drink. Once he’s done he turns to RAGING DEAD.
Orange Cassidy:
I don’t like you and you don’t like me. I can put that aside for the purposes of trying to win the match, but if you try to get in my way I won’t hesitate to leave you lying in your own pool of blood. We on the same page?
Raging Dead seems a bit taken aback by the chattiness of the King of Sloth Style. As he goes to take a drink from his whiskey he lets out a one word response.
Raging Dead
Sure.
Boos rain down and beers begin to be thrown towards the stage, Spud isn’t deterred, Local Leather are used to negative reactions. Spud glances to the bar and see’s Dead and OC interacting, he smiles at this whilst singing.
The band finish playing and the crowd are dead silent.
BEAT
Crowd Member
Less of the gay shit dude!
Ziggy angrily jumps in front of Spud onto the microphone.
Ziggy
The fuck did you just say cunt?
Crowd
Gay….
Ziggy leaps from the stage and charges at the crowd member with reckless abandonment and bass in hand.
Spud
Oh fuck, here we go….
Spud readies himself for a fight, knowing he’s going to have to back up his friend.
Ziggy in his sprint is tripped by another biker on his way to the heckler, though in his fall he flies through the air cracking his bass over the head of his intended target, knocking himself and the other man out.
Bikers from every corner of the room, turn to the stage, Local Leather are fucked.
Orange lights up a cigarette, takes a long drag, grabs his empty glass off the bar and nods towards local leather.
Orange Cassidy:
Come on. Trust Exercise.
Orange begins to make his way towards the stage.
Spud smiles and flips from the stage onto a crowd of bikers, knocking them down. Fringe and Panda use this opportunity to run away carrying handfuls of equipment. Spud stands up confidently after taking down so many bikers in one swoop, until a large biker lifts him up by the shirt. As all seems lost for our championship tuber, the large biker gets a tap on his shoulder. As the biker lets go of Spud to turn around, a glass is smashed across his head. The biker crumbles to the ground to reveal the assailant as one freshly squeezed Orange Cassidy.
Spud and Cassidy share an approving nod and as the bikers around begin to regain their composure and get to their feet. Spud and Orange stand back to back fists raised ready to swing for the fences.
Raging Dead pays little attention to the chaos unfolding around him, just slowly swigging his whiskey.
Spud swings, 1 biker down, OC slowly moves out of the way of a punch, the biker overextends annd knocks himself to the floor. Each time 1 gets up they are brought down by ‘Freshly Squeezed’ and ‘The Frontman’.
4 Bikers rise at once, Spud and Orange gulp, Orange puts his hands in his pockets, this confuses the bikers on his side, Spud turns his back, this confuses the 2 on his side. In 1 syncronised motion Cassidy hits his patented hands in pocket double leg drop and Spud hits a double Pele Kick.
Orange and Spud take a second to admire their handy work.
Dead watches the fight through the mirror behind the bar and notices something the smaller men fail to see….
Spud and OC are both gripped by 2 huge bikers from behind in full nelsons, a chain can be heard being dragged along the floor. Another biker approaches slowly wrapping the chain around his knuckles.
Biker
You 2 little punks pull this shit in our house.
Spud and OC close their eyes tightly.
‘SMACK’
The biker with the chain is completely laid out by a massive Raging Dead lariat. Spud and Orange use this opportunity to wriggle from the grasp of the full nelson.
Raging Dead
I don’t want either of you getting hurt before Tuesday.
Spud and Orange nod, as Orange casually sweeps the legs of the bikers that were holding them. The fallen bikers are then met with a double chest stomp each from Spud. Raging Dead starts throwing right hands at anything that moves Orange and Spud are taking out as many bikers as possible with the leg sweep-double foot stomp combo. Unbeknownst to our heroes, the bikers are getting angrier and forcing them into the center of the bar. The number of bikers is quickly becoming more than they can handle as they are now almost back to back again.
All at once the bar door swings open, taking the attention of all in it, a shadowed figure in a leather vest and camo shorts.
Shadowed Figure
(Thick New York accent)
WHAT IN THE BLUE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?
The bikers surrounding our heroes seem scared and subservient to the figure, parting as he moves to the centre of the room. As low lights shine on the man we see he’s wearing a cap so his face is still shadowed but his body is becoming more and more visible, he is rather rotund but has surprisingly excellently muscular calves. The Shadowed Figure chuckles.
Shadowed Figure
Well I’ll be damned! It sure has been a while, hasn’t it?
Spud and Orange Cassidy look really confused but Raging Dead cracks a smile as he slowly recognises the voice, Dead looks at the surrounding bikers vests.
Raging Dead
’98 I think?
As the final 2 bikers part a light swings from above and we see BULLY RAY in full Aces and 8’s garb as are all the bikers.
Raging Dead
How are ya Bubba?
Bully Ray
It’s Bully now, what are you and your boys drinking then Dead?
The rest of Aces and 8’s watch on in amazement as their leader marches the 3 men who just fought them to the bar. Ziggy wakes up on the floor. Garrett Bischoff was the one who got his arse kicked the worst because fuck Garrett Bischoff and his shitty tattoo.
The Aces and 8's theme plays as our heroes share a beer with Hells Kitchen/ Dudleyvilles favourite son.
Fade out.
The stage is what we fade into.
Philadelphia welcomes Raging Dead well as he emerges from the crowd in his trenchcoat, taking his time around the stage then down the ramp.
Mark Beverly: The following six man tag team contest, scheduled for one fall, is your main event of the evening! Introducing first, from Ozone Park, New York, weighing two hundred eighteen pounds: RAAAGING! DEEEEAD!
Jim Ross: Our six man tag main event is next!