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[SWL] – [Express Yourself] – [# 1] -
Topic Started: Nov 29 2013, 04:29 AM (278 Views)
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Superstar Wrestling League

Express Yourself #1
29 November 2013
Uploaded to the SWL YouTube Channel.

*****************
1. Credits and Introduction
2. 'The Cowboy' Syd Ryder
3. 'The Buffalo' Shi Tsuyoki
4. Everett de Sade
5. Angus Andrus
6. Mr. Hyde v The Yale Football Player
*****************

---------------------------------------------
1. Credits and Introduction
---------------------------------------------

[The SWL logo briefly fades in and out…]

[Darkness...]

[…Express Yourself logo crashes into the screen]

[Sat in behind a desk with a large monitor in the background with a spinning version of the SWL log is...

Dougie Wright: It's great to be back once again, and we have a fantastic show for you, as we are just days away from SWL-TUBE, where we will see four men battle it out for the National Championship.

[A graphic of Tommy McMaster, Angus Andrus, Syd Ryder and Mr Hyde appears on the screen.]

Dougie Wright: This Sunday Tommy McMaster, Angus Andurs, Syd Ryder and Mr Hyde will all battle it out with the first competitor to score a pinfall or submission being named the National Champion.

[Graphic disappears, back to Dougie.]

Dougie Wright: In this episode we'll hear from 'Cowboy' Syd Ryder, 'The Buffalo' Shi Tsuyoki, Everett de Sade, 'Angry' Angus Andrus and we'll see Mr Hyde in action!

[Cut to…]

---------------------------------------------
2. 'The Cowboy' Syd Ryder
---------------------------------------------


[People are streaming out of church after the normal sunday service. Sat on the other side of the road, in dark, well worn jeans and a tight grubby t-shirt is Syd Ryder. He's sat watching the people go about their lives.]

Syd Ryder: Patience is power, patience is not an absence of action; rather it is 'timing'.

[Ryder is sat on a brick wall, next to him is a baseball cap, he lifts it up to reveal a pack of smokes.]

Syd Ryder: It waits on the right time to act for the right principles and in the right way.

[He throws a cigarette up towards his mouth, catching it in his lips.]

Syd Ryder: That's what the late Fulton J Sheen once said and I have to agree. I'm no more religious than the next man, but I can tell you that sometimes if you play the waiting game with the big man upstairs he'll find you a path to walk down.

[He stands up briefly, and rummages around in his back pocket until he fights a cigarette lighter, he lights his smoke.]

Syd Ryder: When my two older brothers went off to work in New York I took the decision for the first time in my life not to follow them. I don't want to sound ungrateful, because I'm not. If it wasn't for them I'd never have got into the business. I'd never have had the chance to become what I am now, and that's a contender.

[He puts the cap on, adjusts it - almost imagening that there's a mirror in front of him.]

Syd Ryder: Sometimes you need a little bit of space. When you come from a family like mine, we were very close. I grew up rolling around in the backyard with Billy-Jo and Randall. It never mattered which promoter I worked for I was always their brother. Nobody ever saw me as a talent on my own. That is until Wilbur Courtney gave me this opportunity.

[Ryder starts to walk down the street, he's going in the exact opposite direction of everyone else. Without altering his course he doesn't hit anyone, he almost looks through them as he heads down the street until he see's a bar, he stops at the door of the establishment, he's been here before.]

Syd Ryder: He told me about the troubles that the Superstar Wrestling League had encountered but it didn't matter much to me. I'm not a wrassler' to be a big television superstar so having no tv deal doesn't matter much to me. Hell, I"m sure more people will have the chance to watch us when we're on YouTube. I don't care much for the politics of wrestling, I don't know why people have left and why some feel this is a chance to get a foot in the door with a bigger promotion.

[Ryder enters, he walks over to a table in the corner, there's a few people in there but nobody that's going to bother him.]

Syd Ryder: My only concern is the three other people that will be stood in the ring with me when I have the chance to become the National Champion, the first singles championship of my career. It's something I've thought about since I was rolling around in the yard trying to pin my brothers for a belt we made out of cardboard and tinfoil.

[Ryder gives the bar made a look, the look that means he wants a beer.]

Syd Ryder: Tommy McMaster may be the champion, he may have a great reputation for being a headliner, for being the ace of the company. But I'm not sure how much that is going to help when he is facing two men he's never met before, let alone one it appears he has plenty of history with.

[He places his hat down on the table and starts to inspect his cigarette lighter as he continues to talk.]

Syd Ryder: Mr Hyde, Tommy McMaster and Angus Andrus. I'm a cowboy, I'm a fighter and I'm all man. There's nothing I like more than a good fight and I'm thankful that the man upstairs showed me that pertinence is going to bring me more than fulfilment, it's going to bring me the National Championship.

[The barmaid comes over with a bottle of beer, she slams it down on the table, not even acknowledging her customer, the screen fades to black.]

---------------------------------------------
3. 'The Buffalo' Shi Tsuyoki
---------------------------------------------

Mr Yama the elderly Japanese manage or Tsuyok is sat in a rocking chair. He's flipping through a photo album, carefully inspecting each black and white photograph, slowly turning each page with prevision.

"My Buffalo has had a good summer. When Doc Brown called me up and said Mr Yama, we're going to have to let you both go, we have no TV - I was upset. I knew that we'd never get the money that he owed us, or had the chance to make after he became one half of the tag team champions. But I knew that while we were in the United States with visas and accommodation, we still had a chance to dominate the competition."

He stands up, his simple apartment is barely decorated, it's clean, spacious and modern. Yama walks over to a window, he looks outside where Shi Tsuyoki is outside, the wind blowing - it's cold and Tsuyoki is wrapped up in gym pants, a hoodie and a winter hat. He's doing squats, you can tell he's been doing them for a while.

"The last time you saw Tsuyoki on your screens, he became the National Tag Team Champion with Larry Mulligan. Now I'm not a fan or Mulligan, I don't think we're ever going to be going out to dinner together, but I do know that through the battles of that tournament, Tsuyoki has a lot of respect for Mulligan, having felt his lariat first hand, he knows what a useful weapon it is."

Outside Tsuyoki is still equating, his face screwed up in pain, but his mental desire is to continue, constantly pushing himself with one more rep.

"Everyone I've spoken to has told me that Wilbur Courtney is a fair man, a man that makes good of his promises, he prides himself on giving the fans and the talent the best he can offer. Let's make sure that is the case, because when Tsuyoki defeats Everett de Sade - I want him to make good on his word and grant him a National Championship shot."

The door to the apartment opens and Tsuyoki hobbles in, he's drinking water from a bottle like it's going out of fashion.

"ゃ䥪 ウ榵涯以ざ ぢゃ揥䧞れバ ほ槜も䪩奚 ぎゅべ ろビュ土, わ裪ヤ じゅ訧ーペま 䰧勣ひす詃 䋤綩夺壎饃 クォ骥, 府榜 ざびゅ㛥 は槊鄩䤂せ き橯駧妥え ウ榵涯以ざ 尤涧!" Yama says.

Tsuyoki stops drinking and heads back outside, even more determined than before.

"On December 1, Everett de Sade will be facing a stampede, he'll look into the eyes of a dangerous animal, a buffalo and feel the force of it's strength, power and destruction. He's a champion and they don't lay down for anyone."

Mr Yama heads outside, and continues to bark instructions at Tsuyoki.

---------------------------------------------
4. Everett de Sade
---------------------------------------------

[The lighting in the room is only just substantial, and the humming of a distant generator is the single noise that fills the air. A network of red pipes constitutes the visible cieling, and the walls, those not shrouded in darkness, are made up of sullen brick and dotted with gratings and hydrants.]

[Somewhere, in some building, we are in a boiler room.]

"What the hell is this place..."

[The voice breaks the basements placidity. It is quiet and cutting, a venomous hiss that emanates from the shadows that make up part of our view. The voice of Everett de Sade.]

Everett de Sade [EdS]: Is this suppose to make me unhappy?

[Everett paces onto the screen, his hands behind his back. Everett is wearing a beaten pair of black jeans, a gunmetal shirt, has brass studs on his belt, and chipped black nail polish on his fingernails. A mask of knotted black hair flushes down over his forehead covering most of his face.]

EdS: I guess I'm supposed to rage around this place, break stuff, and tell people off. I mean, that's what's EXPECTED, right? I'm expected to lose my shit because for the past four years in Mid-Atlantic Wrestling that's what I became famous for. That and beating the piss and tar out of Rip Slater every time he won the Gold only to have him run and duck out on me. Everyone wants to know now that Rip has agreed to come on board and bestow his excellence on all of us here in...

[Everett mumbles.]

EdS: Carolina? Yeah, one of those states.... if there's going to be tension between us.

[de Sade settles onto a stool, his grin is lazy -- it's there because it has to be there. His t-shirt is the same "Scum of the Earth" shirt he's been wearing for the past week and a half.]

EdS: Truth be told, I was a little... let's just play nice for a change and call it, "miffed". I was a little miffed when I first read the fine print of my contract. I mean - hell, I have to leave my cush desk job in human resources for this....place. I was perfectly content stapling, sorting, shredding day in and day out, reaping the benefits of my ironclad contract with Tom Valentine.

Now I'm told with a post it note on my desk that I need to dust off the old ring boots and put down the pencil sharpener for what? Because the boys decided to get the band back together? I swear if they try and throw me together with that hack in some scheme to make a quick buck....

[His eyes wonder, his voice trails off.]

EdS: Let me warn you right now, Rip. This ain't the Mid-Atlantic anymore. You aren't...

[He pauses a beat.]

EdS [miming] protected [fingers down] here, fella. Nobody is. As good as television as it might be to see you and I in a ring again that war will just have to unravel at another time to be determined. If If I had it my way, it won't EVER happen again. Truth is, I'm done having my name dragged down by your lust for the spotlight you insipid ego whore.

But this ain't about Rip and I...

[de Sade smirks, almost a cackle, for really only reasons known to him.]

EdS: What this is about... and I'm going to level with all of you here. Is the fact that I don't like it here. I don't want to be here. But I'm a professional, or maybe I'm just contractually obligated. Maybe I misjudged this place and its' champion Tommy McMaster. Maybe my general anger at the happenings taking place in this business has blinded me to the fact that McMaster is probably a real swell guy. A real fighting champion. An honorable man in dishonorable times. Blah, blah, blah.

[He makes that "yapping hands" gesture.]

EdS: Truth be told, maybe deep down I'm looking forward to finding out what the alleged best of SWL is made of. It's going to be my [scoff] honor as a three time Mid-Atlantic Wrestling North American Champion to go toe to toe with one of its' title bearers in my debut here. We will sally forth and I'll do battle with a guy whose biggest accolade is winning tag team gold because that's what I'm SUPPOSED to do.

The way I figure it, now that I've settled into my new home, I don't think I much mind facing that Buffalo Shi or the Hero of the Day Tommy McMaster. These chums are the title bearers of this company.

[His sullen eyes roll.]

EdS: Fortunately, I came prepared for them.

[Everett is demented, deranged even. From the darkness he yanks out a black bag, plunging his hadn into it whilst keeping both eyes fixated away from the camera.]

EdS: Maybe this week it will be the shears.

[From the bag, Everett extracts a pair of shears, wooden handled and threatening.]

EdS: Or perhaps the people here in Carolina would prefer something a little more...

...brain hemorrhaging.

[The shears are tossed aside haphazardly, the hand returning to the bag in one frenzied, piston like motion. In seconds, a wooden mallet is in the hands of the lunatic. Such is Everett's mania that we only fleetingly hear something large and metallic crashing to the floor in the background.]

EdS: Or...I know, how about everyone's favorite dental implement...

...the Dentists Drill.

[Now the hand surfaces again, the drill inside it. The drill handle is only about 6 inches in length, and the drill itself rather small. Therein lies its ferocity...]

EdS: Indeed folks, the dentists drill. Shamed by the blood of Tom Valentine's own nephew and the
crimson tissue of our favorite blue eyed ace.

[Now, Everett's frantic demeanor shifts. The wide eyed stare regresses into a thin glower, the head tilting and the entire face darkening under the light. The finger applies the pressure, the drill whirring into motion as Scorn's stance slackens into that of a fighter. His face is a black void, indistinguishable in the shadows, but for the eyes. The gleaming, fiery eyes.]

EdS: Buffalo Shi, my message for you this week is simple...

[A maniacal grin.]

EdS: I can't wait to see the color of your blood...

[The drill is whirring in his hand. The point approaches the lens of the camera. The grin turns into laughter. Evil, cynical, high-pitched laughter.]

EdS: Carolina...

...I'm on my way.

[Black.]

---------------------------------------------
5. Angus Andrus
---------------------------------------------

[Open to a standard bus stop in Raleigh, North Carolina. Its a busy morning, families and businessmen clamoring to either enter or exit one of the death traps. No one seems to notice the camera, except one man exiting.


We seem to notice him more than the others as well. He isn’t wearing a suit, or a tie, or even a bright shirt that let’s all who see that he is on vacation. Instead, he is wearing a dingy white shirt with “Years of Frustration” sloppily written in black marker and an old pair of black sweatshorts. The bangs of his wedge hairdo fall into his eyes, maybe to hide some of the people around him from his own vision. This is Angus Andrus, and he is alone.]

ANGUS: Hey, you.

[He motions for the camera to come closer, which it does.]

ANGUS: You here for me?

[Yes motion.]

ANGUS: Good. Cause I came here all the way from 1988, and then New Mexico, to have this championship match. And as you can see, I’m all by my lonesome.

[It’s true. There’s no Mr. Melon or the rest of the Tetrad.]

ANGUS: Since my return to the States, I haven’t gotten many championship matches, so I want this one all to myself. Which, I think I already told you -- McMasters.

[Angus sweeps away a cluster of hair from his face.]

ANGUS: How ya been, partner?

[A slight smirk.]

ANGUS: Heh, me in a tag team. Didn’t work in Japan, didn’t work in DERP, and it sure as hell didn’t work here. I guess the gold that night wasn’t exactly the shade I was looking for.

[We get a slight Discount Double Check with that sentence.]

ANGUS: The gold I’m here for now? Well, that’s the perfect color for someone such as myself. It signifies one man’s triumph over all others. And I want it the same now as the day I was tagging McMasters’ hand.

[Like a morning cup of coffee, Angus wakes you up with a startling clasping of his own two hands.]

ANGUS: And all that stands in my way is a little dance.

[We’re treated to rare and minor chacha and a display of four fingers ala the Horsemen.]

ANGUS: A four-way-dance. Not my favorite kind of four-way, but a gold finish will do. See ya there.

[Cut.]

---------------------------------------------
6. Mr. Hyde v The Yale Football Player
---------------------------------------------

[The lights dim and go out slowly. There are a few moments of complete darkness, giving rise to a couple of people to spark up their lighters. Just then Bach's "Mass in B Minor" begins to play out. The haunting classical selection gives rise to a pale blue light near the entrance. A man dressed in a full navy blue pinstripe business suit with a white dress shirt underneath and matching power tie is already there kneeling on one of his knees with the other leg in a bent position, his arms slowly rise to either side with his palms faced up. The man is wearing a navy blue and black full headed mask which does not give away any bit of his identity.]

Jasper Stead: This is Mr. Hyde. At least this is what I am being told now.

[He stands up as the music continues to flow out of the PA and begins to slowly make his way down towards the ring, his opponent for this evening is already in the ring waiting for him and does not seem all the impressed by the pomp and circumstance this entrance is filled with. Mr. Hyde carefully makes his way into the ring.]

Jasper Stead: A grand sort of entrance there from Mr. Hyde, mysterious seems to be the term best used to describe what we’ve seen and heard so far of his intentions. Not to mention, credit to him with that odd recruitment video, more on that but for now here’s the bell…

[The masked Mr. Hyde makes his way across the ring to where Yale Football Player ready to go full contact and smash some heads, however, Mr. Hyde catches him off guard and everyone else off guard as he extends his hand for a friendly handshake.]

Jasper Stead: And I’m not sure to what to make of that! Mr. Hyde extending a hand in friendship?

[After a couple of seconds and no response from the Yale Football Player, Mr. Hyde enthusiastically extends the hand and then points from the football player’s chest to his own stating loudly for the man to join him.]

Jasper Stead: Never mind the recruitment video, looks like Mr. Hyde is doing some in person hiring right here in the ring!

[The former Yale Football Player looks to be a bit confused by all of this, but it sounds as if Mr. Hyde is making this a really nice pitch to him. The microphone around the ring even picks up the words “Harvard sucks” coming from Hyde’s lips. The crowd starts to rally around the football player hoping that he refuses the offer.]

Jasper Stead: Might we see a bit of a team-up here between these two?





‘SLLLAAM!’





[YAY!]

Jasper Stead: …and that’s a big no! The former Yale Football Player hauling off with a big haymaker dropping Mr. Hyde to the mat! Hyde rolling back up to his feet, but there’s the former linebacker waiting –





‘SLLLLLLLLLAM!’





Jasper Stead: Big time scoop slam there!

[Mr. Hyde yells out in pain as he holds the spot on his back where he impacted the mat at full speed. This of course does not slow his opponent down any, as the former jock goes against his training with stomps to downed man.]

Jasper Stead: Normally, that’ll get you a flag… but not here!

[Hyde is pulled to his feet by the big man on campus and whipped back first into the turnbuckle with a heavy thud. The crowd begins to rally around the Yale Football player, oddly enough, as he drops down into the three point stance!]

Jasper Stead: The man from Yale showing us a good stance. Hand far enough out there to keep his balance... a quick short first step...





"SMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMACK!"



[OH DAMN!]





Jasper Stead: ...and just clobbers Mr. Hyde with a forearm tackle!! That might have knocked him out!! Here's the cover, this one might be over...





ONE!!














TWO!!



















THRE--






KICKOUT!





Jasper Stead: So close there! Hyde gets the shoulder up there at two and a half, but by the way he's been dominated here tonight, well, perhaps the former Yale star should be getting the National Championship title shot at Tube 1.

[Being from Yale, the former linebacker knows a slow count when he sees one, but even still he is able to with hold from possibly doing what got him kicked out of the school in the first place -- knocking out a referee.]

Jasper Stead: The big man better quit arguing here with the referee, the play isn't over yet!

[As if on cue, Mr. Hyde pulls the football player by the shoulder and unloads with a haymaker of his own!]



"SMMMMACK!"





[OH NO!]



Jasper Stead: I think he just done ticked him off! No effect from the big right hand from Mr. Hyde and he can't believe it! There's another right hand and another! But the former Yale Football player seems to be only getting annoyed by these shots. They are kinda of weak looking...



"SLLLLLLLAMM!"



[OUCH!]



Jasper Stead: ...and that didn't last long! Hyde's rights proving to little as the man from Yale counters with a right hand of his own dropping Hyde to the mat!

[The Yale Football Player signals to the crowd that this one is over. Deftly he moves to the attack pulling the masked man up to his feet by that very same mask and quickly flings him up onto his shoulder.]

Jasper Steads: It's powerslam time! It won't win you the Heisman, but it'll finish this match... he charges...







"SLLLAM!"





[OH THE POOR REF!]





Jasper Stead: HYDE SLITHERED OUT!! Hyde slithered out and shoved the Yale Football Player into the referee! Both the referee and the linebacker are down on the mat.

[Just then, there's a disturbance in the front row of the crowd on the farside of the ring. This is about the same time that the masked man in the ring slumps down in the corner of ring.]

Jasper Stead: What the? Who the?

[Another masked man, dressed exactly as Mr. Hyde rolls out from under the ring. In a flash he pulls the other masked man out of the ring and rolls in taking his place near the corner.]

Jasper Stead: A SWITCH-A-ROO!? Who is under the mask... either of them?

[Surprisingly, the Yale Football Player does his best to bring the referee back up to his feet as well. Sadly, as a result neither of them are none the wiser to exactly what has been taking place behind them. Shockingly, both of them do not seem to notice the crowd as they try to inform them both of what just took place.]

Jasper Stead: Is that Hyde, now? The man from Yale is back up to his feet, he has no idea what's going on here... I don' think I have any idea what's going on here!!

[The Yale Football Player turns around.]

Jasper Stead: LAST GRASP CLUTCH! THE NEW MR. HYDE RAMMING AND HOLDING HIS FINGERS TO THE NERVES IN THE THROAT OF THE FORMER YALE BULLDOG!

[The new Mr. Hyde continues to squeeze down on the nerves in the throat, never letting go and slowly causing his opponent to fade. That is about when the referee fully comes to and sees the man from Yale attempting to tap out on the shoulder of Mr. Hyde.



DING DING DING!]



Jasper Stead: This one's over! Mr. Hyde, or at least someone dressed as Mr. Hyde applying that vicious nerve hold forcing the former Yale star to tap out here tonight. I can't believe this... I have no idea what's going on.

[Mr. Hyde or at least the one in the ring lets go and tosses his opponent to the mat in total disrespect. This draws the ire from the crowd.]

Jasper Stead: We've been bamboozled here tonight. Perhaps, we shouldn't underestimate this man.. er... these men?

[The Hyde in the ring steps between the ropes, and pulls to their feet the other Hyde on the outside as the two slowly make their way out.]
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