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| Weapon, Savior,MacGregor,Carrington, Shyne, Shorty; & Liana Lewis | |
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| Topic Started: May 24 2007, 11:50 AM (329 Views) | |
| Kassie Khane | May 24 2007, 11:50 AM Post #1 |
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Admin and Second in Command of the Nation of Moderation
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Lethal Weapon, Christian Savior, Davey MacGregor, Michael Carrington, Shyne, Shorty Jr. & Liana Lewis RP Limit: 3 RP each, per match Deadline: 11:59 pm EST on Tuesday, May 29, 2007 |
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| Weapon | May 27 2007, 06:23 PM Post #2 |
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Unregistered
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http://www.geocities.com/poolice_officer/L...apon/scw40.html OOC: All comments are in character and are not in anyway a representation of the handler as close to kayfabe breaking as they might be...I used all i knew in an in character manner and i hope you enjoy. Also, did people prefer this layout or the old one that had color? I wanted to go for something more professional looking - not sure if this layout works. |
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| Silkk | May 27 2007, 09:29 PM Post #3 |
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I'm A Walkin' Legend...
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Fuck You Haters... Here is my 1st rp...Enjoy...If you don't I don't give a fuck....Holla! |
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| Chris Renegade | May 28 2007, 10:34 PM Post #4 |
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Unregistered
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Era of the Phoenix: Chapter 22 – Sight of the Flame The situation I find myself in is unfamiliar, though the location I know very well. You see, after the incident at Breakdown, and the resulting issues of said event, I found myself returning to Windsor, more out of necessity than opportunity. That being said, there was opportunity here. There could be no doubt about that. Still…it should be an interesting situation… ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Three hours, two gas stops and about five sets of lights and I was back in Windsor, the reason, for those who had paid attention to my life, being clearly obvious. You see, for the last week, I had avoided the city like the goddamn plague. Why? Because the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. That decision cost me 2,000 dollars in fines for missing a court date. Small price to pay, considering that the ball was in my court again, as she had no idea why I had missed the court date, or even where I was. Yes…a small price to pay indeed… Turning a corner in my car, I found myself on the street where my brother and sister-in-law lived. And where my wife is possibly residing… I rarely drove in my black corvette, but I still did not want to chase her recognizing me and knowing I was here. Flipping open a compartment on the passenger side of the car, I pulled out my cell-phone and speed-dialed Kassie’s number. After about three rings, the connection went through. Kassie: Hello? Savior: Kassie. Kassie: Hi- Savior: Don’t say who it is. Kassie: What? Savior (slower): Do not say who is on the phone. Kassie: Oh…alright. Sounds weird but ok. Instinctively, I felt my hand quickly rush up to smack my forehead before returning to the steering wheel. I was less than one minute away from her house, so I would have to talk fast. Savior: Is Rose there? Kassie: Rose? No. She left a few days ago to stay in a hotel downtown. She didn’t say why, just grabbed her stuff, thanked us and left. Savior: So it’s just you and Adam. Kassie: And the kids. Savior: Naturally. Is she expected back? Kassie: Chris, what is going on here? Savior: Is she expected back?! Kassie: No. Not that I am aware of. The driveway was a few feet in front of me and as I heard her response, I pulled into it, making sure that I didn’t drive into any of their cars, though they only had one. Turning off the car and opening the door, I felt the concrete against my black running shoes. I still held the cell-phone to my ear, forcing me to ignore the march in my step towards the door. Savior: Is Riddick there? Kassie: He will be in a few hours…Chris what is- It was at that moment that I hung up on her. Sliding the phone into my black, blazer pocket, I knocked on the door; my hands trembling as the full realization of what I was doing came rushing into my head. Opportunity, opportunity...opportunity… The door opened before I heard feet shuffling across the floor, and before me stood Kassie, wearing what appeared to be simple blue jeans, a black sweater and house sandals. Interesting combination… Upon seeing me, I watched Kassie slowly click her cell-phone together, this terminating the connection she had with my phone. Well…connection she had had with my cell-phone. Kassie: What are you doing here? Whether it was that question, or the idea that she knew the answer already, or just the fact that she was already there, I don’t know; but at that moment, I was ready to tear someone’s head off. Pushing her aside, I marched into the house. Savior: How long have you known? I couldn’t look at her, because if I did, I was sure I would hurt her, an idea that wasn’t looking so bad the angrier and angrier I got. Though my back was to her, I felt the shock and confusion pouring off her in waves. It would confuse me to if I was in her place, but at that moment, I didn’t give a rat’s ass. Kassie: Known what? As I heard her, I realized that I was pacing in the family room, which seemed a regular habit for me lately. However, that did not stop my train of thought. Savior: She wouldn’t have left and not told you. I am guessing she told you the minute she found out! The question is why you and not me? Clearly, to the passerby, this would be the raving of a demented lunatic. However, for me, this was merely my mind putting all the pieces together and arranging it into a favorable situation…or at least one I could understand. Kassie: Why me not you? Christian, you’re not making any sense! It was evident that she thought I had lost my mind, and, looking back on it, in a way I had. But did that makes things worse? Or better? Savior: Oh you played me for a while, Kassie! But last week! Oh last week! Last week was an awakening! My hands had reached out and grabbed a nearby couch, my fingers digging into the soft plush of the mattress as I stopped my pacing. Apparently, the fabric of the couch was to bear a fraction of my wrath. Kassie: An awakening? Playing you? Christian, for the last time- I couldn’t take it anymore. She still was playing with me, even though we both knew it. With a spin on the balls of my feet, I turned and leered at her, my mouth in what I could only feel as the deadliest of snarls I had ever done. It suited me. It suited me well. Savior: How long have you known that Rose Savior, my wife, was pregnant?!! I saw it than. It was subtle, but it was there. Kassie froze and was quiet. True, anyone would do that when dealt such a heavy accusation combined with my look of rage, but it was the eyes that gave her away. First came shock, than suspicion, than…fear. It was all played before me like a hand of poker. And Kassie was playing very poorly. Kassie: I…how…I… Savior: So…you knew. All this time. She couldn’t speak, and I could tell by the look on her face that she knew lying would be useless. Slowly, almost as if admitting defeat, she nodded her head. That simple action, not surprisingly, forced my anger to wash over me anew. However, I kept my voice a civil roar. Calm anger always beat out loud anger. Made the person less predictable. Savior: You hid this from me. Something as important as this? You went behind my back, when I defended you against Harley? After everything I did… I felt my feet move closer towards Kassie as my hand slowly ran along the couch and counters in the room. The sensation was a slow, predatory walk, which was an affective effect. Savior: You have to audacity to do this? Looking up at her again, I realized that she had slinked back to the kitchen area, her eyes watching my every move. Kassie: Rose made me promise not to tell you. She was trying to keep the worry out of her voice, as well as the strength in it, but she was failing in both. Savior: And you think that makes your actions any more forgiving?! The impact of my fist with a nearby table was the shock I needed to make me aware of what I was doing, at least physically speaking. Kassie: She is my friend, Christian… Savior: She is my wife! It is MY child! With a movement that surprised even me, I grabbed Kassie by the arms and shoved her against a counter, my hands digging into her arms, probably bruising them. She let out a startled cry, but like she had said, Adam was no where in sight. Was I afraid of Adam Riddick? Hardly. He was a mere punching bag compared to me. If he got in my way, I would just do what was necessary. Still…nothing is gained from such actions…at least not right now… Savior: Alright, Kassie. You’ve got about ten seconds to tell me everything you know, or so help me… Kassie: I promised Rose- Savior: Well now, you’re promising me! Because if you don’t tell me, than I promise you that I will make your life a living hell! Our faces were mere inches apart, and I had to hold back the vomit that rushed into my mouth. The mere thought that this woman, whom I was forced to respect, and defend, had all along been misleading me! Kassie: I… Savior: Where is she? Kassie: I… no… Savior: Where…is…she?!! Erik: Mommy? The soft voice forced my head to twist to the right. The boy… I felt Kassie squirm a little in my arms, forcing my attention onto her. Kassie: Please not in front of him…please… Compassion was the least thing this lying wench deserved. No, it would be the last thing I granted her. I would rather wring her neck in front of the boy’s eyes and corrupt him for life than do her any favors… Do it! My mind shouted. I didn’t know why I wanted to let go of her so suddenly, but… Of course… I released Kassie in a second and turned around just as Erik bounded into the kitchen. Erik: Mommy. I am hungry- Uncle Chris! I forced a playful, loving smile on my lips as I knelt down and scooped the rushing boy into my arms. The boy grabbed me around the neck and, I swear, nearly choked me in a loving embrace. Soon enough, Savior…Soon you shall have one of your own. I smiled as I imagined a little boy of my own in my arms, instead of Erik. The illusion was temporary, but it was extraordinary. As I came back to reality, I first saw Kassie with concern as I held her child, then Erik, who was smiling at me, babbling about something other he had done today. The boy, you fool! Ask the boy! Setting Erik down on floor again, I smiled at him as I ruffled his hair. Savior: Listen Erik. Uncle Christian needs you to do a big favor for him. Erik: What is it? His voice was playful, thinking that this was some game. Maybe it could be… Savior: Uncle Rose and I are playing hide and go seek, and I can’t seem to find her. Did she give you any clues in case Uncle Christian got lost? I was never good at this game. I threw in a playful pout as I looked at the boy, who giggled at my ridiculous expression. I knew Kassie was festering behind me, trying to get Erik not to say anything, but she couldn’t, or it would defeat the purpose she had set by asking me not to harm her in front of the boy. I watched Erik scratch his head as he thought about what I asked him. Erik: Rose good hider? Savior: Oh yes. Too good. I need your help. Erik: Well…ohh ohh! He was suddenly jumping up and down in front of me as I looked at him. He was thinking of something, but a kid with that much energy made it impossible to figure out what. Erik: See Auntie Rose in morning. She say go on holiday! Savior: Holiday you say? Erik: Yes. The boy smiled proudly at me as he looked at his mother. She forced a proud nod at her son as I looked at her. Savior: That will help a lot, Erik. Now go play with your sister. I playfully scooted the little boy out of the room. As I heard him scampering down the hall, the façade slipped from my face. So, Rose had taken a holiday, but Kassie had already stated that she had left for a hotel. A holiday and at a hotel. That could mean anything, but she had left this morning… The answer hit me faster than a chair shot as I spun around and looked at Kassie, who became even more upset at the triumphant look on my face. Savior: The Holiday Inn. She is staying at the Holiday Inn downtown. Kassie: Christian, please. Don’t do anything rash. She is your wife. Savior: A wife who lied and betrayed me! Heading for the door, I grabbed the handle, just as Kassie hand grasped around mine. Kassie: Christian, I am begging you. Please do not hurt Rose. Now? Now! I inwardly smirked as I gripped Kassie’s hand and began turning it in the wrong direction. I watched as she slowly cringed in pain, than dropped to one knee, her one hand gripping at her wrist, now at an uncomfortable angle. Savior: A lesson to you, Kassie. You do this to me again, or if I find out you have informed Rose of what has happened, or if you try anything again… I twisted the arm a bit harder, earning a soft scream from Kassie. The smirk had grown from inward to my face. The realization was comforting that I had become a menace to behold. Savior: …and the wrist will be broken, as will anything else of your life that I get my hands on. Are we clear? The meek nod was all I needed to hear. With a careless pull, I tossed her arm, and her, along the floor before opening the door and slamming it behind me. I had grown tired of this game of cat and mouse, but it was time to end it once and for… BEEP BEEP BEEP Looking down at my watch, I silently cursed. My flight was leaving in less than an hour! I had booked a train ride from Windsor to Oklahoma City for Breakdown. If I tracked down Rose now, I would miss my flight and possibly Breakdown… Alright, Rose…you get a reprieve for now…but soon…it will be my turn… Hopping into my corvette, I pulled the throttle stick down to reverse and drove out of the driveway. Changing it to drive, I felt the pull of the car as I rode back to the airport. True I would need a parking pass for the next…week or so, but I could definitely afford. Some things in life are worth that extra cost… ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Now we get to the section of my life where most of the people will be reading. The part where I reflect on what is to come in the world of Supreme Championship Wrestling. Where I tear apart my opponents apart and mention how superior I am compared to them. Sorry to say, but that is exactly what is going to happen. Except for the last part, because all of you, including you, Weapon, already know that… ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The train sped down the tracks on its way to Oklahoma City. I had always enjoyed train rides, though not as much as flying in an airplane. True the food was better in the trains, but you could not see the top of the clouds. As I sat there, contemplating the recent events that had unfurled around me, I could not help the sense of foreboding in the air, at least around me. Why not? The day before yesterday, I didn’t even want to be in this stupid match at Breakdown. I was not a mid-carder! And here my brother, Jason, was getting main event against a man he never beat. No, I had no desire to show up for this “mini-pre-Battle Royale” match. However, that was until I learned that Weapon was going to be in it. It was that fact, and only that fact, that forced me to be on the train instead of hunting down my wife. I had not forgotten my original plan. I was fairly sure that Kassie was going to warn her, though she could not now, as I had threatened her and she knew I knew how to find out if she had. She would have to do it by other means, and she didn’t have time for that. If all went my way, and it usually did, I would have about a thirty minute advantage after Breakdown, as long as my flight wasn’t delayed. The seats in the train were a soft plush and comforted my sore spine as I pulled out my recorder, which would reach SCW tech team after I sent the recording. My spine had not bothered me yesterday, which I meant I had probably slept in an uncomfortable position. Twisting my back a little, I saw the main fields and trees that I passed as he train moved down the tracks. I was fascinated with looking through windows, as it served as a paradox. Look, but don’t touch… Savior: An interesting paradox, wouldn’t you agree, my friends? Meaning you can see it, smell it and hear it, but you can’t touch it. Only one of us will have that honor, and such an honor belongs to me. One of us will be able to hold the flame; and who better than the firebird? The phoenix?! The answer is simple. No one is better than that, and there is only one phoenix in this business, and that’s me. So sugar coat it all you want, Weapon, rap it and swear to it all you can, Silkk, and bitch about it all you are able to Liana, but in the end, that is the one and only truth. You touch fire and you burn, unless you are fire! A bird landing on my window breaks me out of my reverie. It is a small sparrow, which surprises me, as it is difficult to catch up and land on a speeding train. Almost reluctantly, the bird looks through the window and at me, as if studying me, before flying off again. Savior: Simple, isn’t it? Winning a match can seem like such a simple thing. Walk in, pin or throw over the rope, and walk out. One would say the mere idea of winning a match would be easier than walking backwards. That is how easy it is going to be to toss each and every one of you over the rope this Breakdown. Strong words, aren’t they? Do not worry… I’ll be back. This is not a promo, my dear friends. No… A true promo would be me tearing each and every one of you apart using your weaknesses and stupidity. You especially, Weapon! Why not do it now? Simple… The opportunity hasn’t presented itself. It isn’t the right time. You will find that timing is everything in this business. With that in mind, I give you a fair warning. Turn your back on me for a second and it is an opportunity for me. Leave me lying in the ring and it is an opportunity for me. Try and throw me out of the ring and it will become an opportunity for me. Do you see where I am going with this?! I am the most opportunistic superstar in SCW today! So, here is the opportunity for you, wrestlers of this match. In twenty-four hours, I shall release a promo, tearing apart everything that you, the petty, hold virtues on. You have until then to throw everything you can at me. You have until than to comprise your own promos in a vain attempt to destroy mine. There is your opportunity. Try and make something out of it. But be warned… I don’t give opportunities for free… Twenty-four hours, my friends… Are you ready? End of Recording… |
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| Davey MacGregor | May 29 2007, 09:11 AM Post #5 |
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Unregistered
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“Jesus, that son of a bitch can hit...” My match with Proof was long over, but my body still had aches in places I did not even know contained any kind of nerve endings. I’d over-estimated the old fart, no question about it, and he made me pay for it every second of that match, right up until Cherry’s little boyfriend decided to come down and get involved. I was lucky, there was no way I was going to call it anything else but sheer dumb luck. If Parker had not shown up, I would have been just another statistic under the Count’s belt. Luckily, for me, the Pit Crew just cannot seem to keep their heads straight, and their noses clean, meaning another number punched into my undefeated streak. On top of that, a hell of a lot more people are starting to notice me. Not the ones I want to notice me, though, I still need to make more of an impact before I get people like Valentine and the others to pay me any kind of attention. I know what they all think of me, and I know how little a run they think I would give them. If only they knew what kind of fire was burning deep down in my gut these days, then maybe they would think twice about just writing me off the way they do. Who would have thought that getting a crowd behind you, hearing thousands of people screaming your name could give you this kind of a rush? - That it could send this awesome power running through your blood like some kind of euphoric high! - I cannot even remember the last time I have ever felt more in control, of my life, of my career, of the choices laid open to me, (and right now, there are fucking hundreds). Leaning my head back against the cold black leather of the couch in my locker room, I felt the pain flaring up in my skull as I adjusted the ice pack a little better against the side of my temple. At the very least, the fact that I took the kind of beating I did from Proof, and still fought back, proves that I will not back down to anyone, for any reason, no matter what. I proved tonight that I am exactly what I tell everyone I am, and that is a fighter, heart and soul. Once I have it in my head that I am going to beat you, then that is exactly what I do, come hell or high water. Sickle learned that lesson the hard way, and so did Donovan, (thinking of him made me laugh, because it reminded me of him being the one to lose Cherry his match against the Dynasty). - The Dynasty, I had to wonder what they thought of my fresh-made plans for single-handedly destroying them. When I ran out to the ring last night, I never even noticed that I had Savior running right alongside me until I was actually inside the ring, watching Carrington and his friends scurrying out like the pack of rats they are. I have to be honest, the second I saw who I was standing in the ring with, I almost bull-rushed them all myself, with the exception of Weapon. I know of the “Human Killing Machine” through his reputation, but that would not have stopped me from laying him out on my way to Savior and Wheeler. Neither one of those bastards has my respect, and so long as the so-called “phoenix” keeps bitching week in and week out, and Wheeler keeps walking around with that pool-cue shoved up his ass, acting like God fucking blessed us with his creation, they never will. The sound of running water drew me out of my thoughts, and back into the present, and I immediately wished I could have stayed in my own world, because at least there my head did not feel like someone had just used it to hammer in a crooked nail. As bad as my head hurt, though, it was nothing compared to my ribs, and my back. Proof may be a wrinkled old fuck, but the son of a bitch knows how to hurt people, I am more than capable of attesting to that on a stack of limited edition bibles. “How are you holding up, Sweetie? You feel any better now?” Like a breath of fresh air, the sound of Kayla’s voice soothed over my throbbing head, and crept into my soul, spreading outward like a healing balm until all I could feel was that now familiar tingle starting in the pit of my stomach, and the center of my heart before it all radiated outward to the rest of me. Lifting my head, I spotted her coming out of the bathroom, a small towel wrapped around her waist - and absolutely nothing else. Her breasts were full, (especially for a Chinese woman), and her hair was still drenched, falling in soaked ringlets across her shoulders, the look of it so innocently sensual, that it almost betrayed the scathing look in her eyes as she crossed the soft carpeting to where I was sitting. As she straddled my lap, (I had some denim shorts on, and that was it for me), her hands flitted across my shoulders, and eventually cradled the back of my head, tilting it so that she could lean down to kiss me. “I want you to make me a solemn promise, David, and I mean it... I don’t ever want to see you come that close to getting hurt again, you almost gave me a heart attack!” Lifting my hands to smooth along the line of her back, I returned the kiss, first, lingering on it a moment or two before pulling back, and offering up my best smile of apology, at the same time as I rolled my head into a slow shake, my fingers rubbing and kneading along the points of her spine. “Not something I can promise, Baby Doll, you know that...” “You can at least say the words for me... I just want to hear them... You know, like when a woman wants her man to tell her he loves her - We know you don’t really mean it, we just want to hear you say it.” Screw the pounding in my head, hearing that made me laugh aloud as I tightened my arms around her, and rolled our bodies until I had her laid out along the cushions of the couch. Stretching out my own body against her side, I propped one hand against my head, so I could just stare down at her, and watch the shifts in her expression as I traced my free hand around her lips, and along her throat. It never ceased to amaze me just how much impact this woman had, both on me, and in my life as a whole. Ever since she had stepped into it, my life had been shifted, subtle changes wound their way into my character and attitude, until it got to the point where I cannot even remember who I once was. Recently, looking back at the condition of my life in the past, I have come to the decision, late as it may be, that I don’t even want to remember the way I was, or the person I may have been - all I care about is living up to her expectations. I used to rotate my life around anything that I considered best for me, personally, whether it was for my life, my career, or just a momentary perquisite. It could have been anything from a brief appearance in a magazine or a television movie that would net me a little over a thousand dollars pocket money, or it could have been that obviously under-aged girl screaming her head off in the crowd, begging me to take her back to my locker room, (which I usually did), ashamedly so. That was how I operated and ran my life; I looked for whatever would appease me for the next bit of time, no matter how miserable the fall back down into reality was. For all I would care, the movie could tank, bomb and be recalled and destroyed, the father of the girl could sue the promotion, I, personally, or even the entire professional wrestling industry, and it would never even faze me. Selfish - that was the keyword whenever someone wanted to define or describe me. David Miller always sought out what was going to make him happy, and him alone, with no thought to the industry as a whole, or even to the fans that supplied his payment. These days it has become something different, again, thanks in part to Kayla, and her determination to make me into something more than I was - something more than I ever even thought I would come to be. Four years ago, I expected to hear the cries of hatred and disgust whenever my name came up amongst the public. I was more than famous; I was infamous, when called into terms of disgust and loathing in the hearts of the people worldwide. Last week, that all changed, and I am still attempting to come down from the near paralyzing high that overtook my body when it came time for me to do battle with Count Proof. Standing on that stage, listening to twenty thousand people screaming my name, cheering in everything from appreciation, to loyalty, to support, and even hope and love for me, had almost brought me to my knees out of so many emotions, I cannot even begin to name them all. We can leave it at the simple fact that emotion overcame me, much as I hate to sound cliché, but that is exactly what I was experiencing. Drawn out of my thoughts yet again, I looked down to find Kayla staring back up at me, her face having gone silent and soft, her features warming beneath my touch, without a word spoken between us - I had not even made her that solemn promise yet. With her fingers curled behind the nape of my neck, she drew me to her, our lips coming together with the barest of contact, before the kiss slowly deepened into something more - sealing the promise into both of our souls for the rest of time. “Mr. MacGregor? - Sir - I hate to disturb you, but might I please have a moment of your time?” Pulled out of our moment, both Kayla and I raised our heads at the call from behind the door. Shocked, to say the least, I rose from the couch, and tried to rub the weariness from my eyes as I reached out for the knob, and peered out into the hallway. To both of our knowledge, everyone else had gone home, or to the airport in order to catch the earliest flights to Oklahoma, where the next show was set to be televised. Waiting behind the door was a face I had not seen in some time, Nicholas Ryder, brandishing a thick manila envelope under his arm, and wearing an expression that almost looked concerned, or amazed. “You okay, Nick?” Even as the words left me, I had to give myself a mental slap for phrasing it quite like that. The last time Nicholas and I had stood face to face, I assaulted him, hurled him ten feet onto a concrete floor, and that was after I had degraded and humiliated him on National television - Considering the look on Nick’s face when I asked, I doubt he has any problems remembering that incident, either. “Dumb question, man, I know... Look, um... I’m sorry about, all that...” Stumbling over my own words - now I know something was changing with me, because I have never once faltered or flailed for something to say in my entire life - eventually I just offered an apologetic smile. “It’s perfectly fine... Believe me, I’m getting used to that kind of treatment around here. Listen, that’s not what I’m here about, though. I just had this handed to me by Mr. Drachewych, personally, and given strict orders to deliver it, and a stack of others, before I went home tonight. I don’t know what’s going on, but something tells me you want to read it and find out.” By now, Kayla had walked up behind me, with one of my tee shirts pulled over her head to hide her body. Still, I caught Nick’s stare out of the corner of my eye as I took the envelope from him and unwound the corner, prying open the tip in order to get inside. There were a few sheets of paper, along with some plane tickets - the departure time was the next morning, first class, to Oklahoma City. Some of it reminded me of when I first arrived in SCW, and used to get envelopes like this containing my paycheck and carded match information - only I do not remember a personally signed letter from Oleska Drachewych included. Slipping the letter out of the envelope, I handed everything else to Kayla, who started to read the printing over my shoulder, and immediately fell back with a slight gasp, her hand up to her mouth. Truth be told, I wish I could have done the same thing, but I was frozen in place, my eyes reading over the letter for the ninth time that minute, while my brain struggled to believe what it was being told. Eventually, even Nick had to come around and look, his reaction mimicking Kayla as he turned to stare at me in shock. “Am I reading this right - or am I starting to see things?” Shrugging my shoulders, I looked back down to the paper, and decided to read it aloud: [align=center] To Mr. David “MacGregor” Miller; [/align] This is to inform you, as it will inform the remaining members of the match, that due to the circumstances surrounding the ending of this week’s edition of “BreakDown!” I have decided to include you into the Co-Main Event for next week’s edition, which will be airing from Oklahoma City at the Ford Center. This match is scheduled to be an over the top, elimination style royal, pitting you against Christian Savior, Lethal Weapon, and The Dynasty in its entirety; even Ms. Lewis will be competing. Given your comments, and obvious feelings towards Michael Carrington and The Dynasty, I can only assume this will be wonderful news to you, as you now have the chance to back up that rather lively mouth of yours. [align=center] I wish you the best of luck, and feel it my responsibility to ensure you that you will need it. Signed Oleska Drachewych (Founder / Acting President - Supreme Championship Wrestling) [/align] ---------- “So what’s the plan, Hon?” It had been close to thirty minutes since Nick delivered the letter, and I still had not sat back down again, leaving Kayla to ease onto the couch herself, still wrapped in my shirt and her towel, as she watched me pace the floor with the letter in hand. We both knew that sooner or later I would headlining the show, competing in the Main Event, and most likely being set up for Championship attempts and contender spots, but nothing like this had crossed either of our minds - even when we challenged The Dynasty. “Babe, are you listening?” I heard the groan of the leather she pushed to her feet, and a moment later, I felt her arms circle me from behind, drawing me back against that warm sanctuary of a body. As always, having her there helped me focus again, allowing me to let my breath out in one long slow exhale as I let my eyes drift over the description of the match for what had to be close to the hundredth time since it had been delivered. “Yeah, I’m okay... Just - Did not expect this to start moving so fast... Jesus, I am still getting used to this “hero” shit, now here I am going up against people like Weapon. - I almost don’t know if I can do this...” “Like hell you can’t - David, look at me... Look at me!” Grabbing me by the head, she actually whipped me around until I was staring her in the face - normally, she had a soft, sultry look to her that made me want to find the nearest dark closet - but right now, I saw nothing but fire and ferocity in those eyes... It turned me on and scared the hell out of me simultaneously. “For the past three weeks, I have listened to you go on and on and on about how you’re going to do this, do that, and do it all without anyone coming close to stopping you. You challenge people like Xander Valentine, you walk the borderline with the fans with some of the things you say, and yet they cannot help but love you... Now you finally have what we both know you deserve, a spot in the Main Event, and you actually want to stand there and make me listen to you say you can’t do it?” Next thing I knew - her hand left my cheek... Then it came right back with a vengeance as a right hook! [align=center] THWACK! [/align] “Ah! - Shit!” I thought Proof could throw a punch... Jesus - turns out he had absolutely nothing on my Baby Doll. Cupping the side of my jaw, I did my best to straighten it back out again, before I wheeled around to find her standing beside the tall body mirror hung on the wall beside my locker - etched across her face was a scowl that had to be close to a mile wide. In the glass, I saw my reflection just as she had planned, and for an instant, my eyes went to her, instead, not quite certain what she had in mind. “I want you to take a good look, David - because somewhere along the line, you obviously forgot who you were - despite how much you want to remind everybody else. So look - and I mean look hard - because I am not going to stand around and let you start doubting yourself all over again. You told me about what happened the night before that Underground thing - something about you not being sure - and look what happened... You lost! You told me you hadn’t been sure you could beat Martinez, and he’s kicked your ass three different times! Now, after three weeks of “smack talk”, you’re going to start doing it again after you get exactly what you’ve been after? Look in this damned mirror, David, and tell me what you see.” “My reflection?” “Don’t fuck with me, David, I didn’t stay with you this long because of your stupid jokes, and I can promise you that none of those people screaming their heads off for you tonight did either. You’re undefeated here, and you’re going to stay that way, just as soon as you find out what the hell happened to those ten-pound balls you used to carry around in your jeans! You had them back in XFC; I know that, my sister saw them... I know you still carry them here, ‘cause I’ve seen them up close... So have Sickle, Proof, Donovan and all the others... Only one, who can’t see them anymore, is you!” Staring at her, I found myself stuck in a drawn back moment to that night before the Battle Royal that pretty much cemented my career in the SCW. Anyone and everyone who wanted to enter had been invited, and fresh off my first match - and first win - I threw myself into the fray. Valentine showed up, Savior showed up, Andrews, Doogan, Webb... So many people that I cannot even remember them all - I only remember fighting off three men at once, and coming up short when one of them chickened out to save himself, robbing me of a title that was rightfully mine. Despite being beaten to a pulp in that match, thrown off the stage, smashed through walls, and smashed into the concrete, I still managed to not only beat, but also absolutely crush Michael Carrington the very next night down in Majestic. I had been tormented with this curse all throughout my career... I could talk the talk, but when it came to stepping up and walking over everyone in front of me - I choked. I always choked, every single time. “I see someone who doesn’t stand a chance in hell of making it through the first five minutes.” It was true - that is exactly what came to my mind as I stood there and stared into the mirror, looking over the dyed hair and the fake tattoo on my right shoulder. Nothing about the man in the reflection convinced me that he could walk into a ring with two of the greatest superstars in SCW history, and the second most dominating stable at the time, and even hope to keep himself alive during the kind of chaos that this match was going to become. That was one of the problems - the other one was figuring out how I was going to remove him from the equation - how was I going to bring back the man that could defeat them? “You want to try explaining that to me? - Or do I need to come over there and crack you with another one? What the hell do you mean you see “someone that won’t last”?” “I mean him...” Turning away from the mirror, I thrust my thumb back over my shoulder, pointing out the humiliating vision reflected in the glass, while I raised my eyes to her own, and just held that stare, almost willing her to see my point. When all she did was glance to the mirror, and then back to me, I tried to explain. “MacGregor, Hon... There is absolutely no way he can win... That is not my lack of balls talking, and it is not some kind of self-doubt bullshit, it is just a cold fact! - MacGregor does not have the kind of skill, endurance, experience or cunning to make it through people like Weapon and Savior... Anyone who looks at this match is going to know that he doesn’t belong in there, and that is the absolute bottom line.” “What are you saying then? - Are you giving up? Is that it? - You’ve come all this way, fought through all those people, even had me out there pulling for you every minute of every God-damned match, and now you’re telling me that you’re just going to throw it all out because you don’t think you can do this?!” For a moment I was silent, uncertain how to respond when it was obvious that she was starting to lose her faith in me - in all honesty, I could not blame her, but that faith was the most powerful weapon that I now possessed every time I walked down to the ring. The strength of Kayla’s love and support, coupled with that of the endless thousands that stood behind me as I battled in their honor and name, was what kept me undefeated and unbeatable. Even men like Weapon, Carrington, Savior and the others would not be able to keep me down once the sea of masses opened up like a maelstrom, and flooded me with the kind of Herculean power that could only be bestowed through their blessing - making a warrior out of a whelp. “Who said anything about giving up?” To my surprise, my voice held a far greater amount of conviction than even I had expected - that made it easier to wheel and face Kayla, locking our eyes even deeper as I started towards her, step by step, making certain that everything I was about to say made it through to her. “I said that "MacGregor" would never stand a chance in this kind of match, with these kinds of opponents, and no one is going to tell me any different about it, because that is plain fact. However, there is someone in this room, that cannot only beat each one of those men, and the slut, too, but he can do it with ease... It won’t even matter to him which opponent crosses his path first - Weapon, Savior, Carrington - they will all have their asses hurled over that top rope, one by one, after the other, until the only one left standing in the ring, is the man that has been climbing up the mountainside faster than anyone else. I am sick and tired of every one of these shit-stains acting like I am some green rookie fresh in off the street, waiting to get my education at their hands as if they are supposed to be the epitome... Like fucking hell, they are! “But MacGregor won’t be the one going into this match - tonight he showed his face for the last time when he went out to that ring, and took one of the best beatings that Colby Proof was able to dish out... I have the attention of the world, and now it is time for me to keep it - Me... David “Stryker” Miller - not some comedic character doing everything he can to panhandle to the crowds. Those people out there were not chanting for MacGregor... I never heard that name come up once during the entire match... However, I sure as hell heard them calling for me. They are calling, and this is my answer... “BreakDown!” is going to be the beginning of it all - for us, for the SCW, for the fans, for everything. I promised to dismantle The Dynasty, and I intend on doing just that - Carrington, Jackson, Johnson, Lewis - all four of them are going to be in that ring at the same time, meaning not only do I get to single-handedly crush every last member of the group, but I get to do it in one damned night! - Something both the Rebellion and the Cherry Pit could not pull off - but watch it happen - because I am going to do what they failed to do...” Turning to stare back over my shoulder, into the eyes of the reflected image of “Davey Boy MacGregor”, I felt a small tinge of guilt for dropping yet another persona - especially since he allowed me into the hearts of the people in the first place. They had responded to his tenacity, and I found favor through my willingness to degrade and humiliate my opponents, hero and villain alike. Nothing about that would change - I am still the one the world looks to when something needs saying, or some wrong demands vengeful retribution. I never asked to become their champion, and I never expected to become some modern-day hero to almost everyone out there, but the point of the matter is that no matter what I did or did not expect, this is what has happened, this is the role I have been given - and I intend to see it out. Lowering my head, I drug my fingers through the thick mass of hair that I had let grow back out again as part of the new “character” I played. As I brought my head back up again, I looked back over to Kayla, who had her arms crossed over her chest, and was staring back at me with that same expectant glare. “... So ... What’s the plan? - What do you want to do?” “As in right now - take a shower... While I’m doing that, I need you to hook up the laptop, and find everything you can on all of them... Once that’s done, go ahead and set up the camcorder.” “You’re going to talk to them already?!” “Yeah ... Might as well get it over and done with before it’s too late. Weapon and Savior, just by themselves, are going to saturate the hell out of this match, probably open their big mouths about four or five times apiece ... Always saying the same thing, just changing the words around. What I have to say, I only need to say once, and I can say it clear enough and plain enough, from right here, so set it up.” Leaving her to it, and ignoring the confused expression on her face, I just turned away and moved for the bathroom. Once under the water, I shut my eyes tight, and tried to think of what the hell I was going to say once I got in front of that damned camera. I hated those things with a passion, that was no secret, but in a match like this, I couldn’t just show up like I usually did ... This time ... I needed to make my impact before I even walked down to the ring ... I only hoped my mouth was as powerful as my in-ring abilities. ---------- “Let me know when you have it turned on...” The voice of David Miller echoed a little in the darkness, before the black void sprang to a vibrant life of color and depth, revealing the young man, himself, as he sat on the wooden bench in front of his locker. Beads of moisture clung to his still-damp skin, and his hair was still wetted down against his head, making it apparent he had only recently left the shower. Clothed in some denim shorts, and a faded green tee shirt that labeled him as being “Spring Broke”, he bowed his head for a short moment, and then lifted it back up again, in order to train his eyes onto the small spy-lens of the camcorder. “I doubt there is anyone left out there that doesn’t know how much I hate doing this ... Getting in front of a camera and trying to speak my mind aloud. Talking has never been something I was good at ... I never had the charisma for it ... I never had the “silver tongue” or the “gift of gab” ... I was always the quiet one that sat in the back of the class and just kept working. Ironic, isn’t it? ... That knowing that about my past, you now see me sitting here in this locker room, doing everything I can to summon up the courage to stare into this camera, and make not only my own voice heard ... But a voice empowered by thousands worldwide ... And believe it or not, that is exactly what I have to do ... I cannot sit here and just speak my own opinions ... Now I need to lend a voice to every last man, woman and child that watches the SCW.” Folding his hands, Miller rested his chin atop them, and just peered into the camera with a silent, comprehending stare, letting the light from the unit reflect in his eyes a little bit, catching off the melded hues of green and gold ... Until he finally blinked and looked away, rising to his feet in the process. “When I first found out I was going to be in this match, I figured myself for dead ... I had no reason to believe that could stand a chance against people like all of you - with the exception of The Dynasty - everyone knows I’ll rip every last one of you to shreds ... But, Weapon and Savior ... You two are easily the strong favorites going into this thing. You are the ones with the histories, and the backgrounds, and the championship reigns ... Hell, Weapon, you have been “The Champ” before ... Haven’t you ... ? “Truth be told, for all of five seconds, I believed that the only reason I had even been put into this battle royal, was because of my past with Carrington, my comments toward The Dynasty, and the fact that I wound up in the ring last night with all the rest of you ... But, like I said, that lasted all of five seconds before I snapped out of it and came to my senses. I am not in this match just to add a number, and I am not in this match just because I decided to shoot my mouth off last week ... I am part of this match, because everyone knows all too damned well, that I could, can, and sure as hell will, take each and every last one of you apart before the end of the night! - I have noticed a trend over the past month ... And that trend is the fact that every time they stick me in the ring with someone I know almost nothing about, I come out on top ... Every time they put me in the ring with someone I am supposed to have no chance of getting past, I come out on top. Now, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t see any reason why that trend should stop now ... Not with the entire world behind me, waiting for me to explode like they all know I can do ... And believe me, boys and girls, I tend to make one fucking big boom.” Walking over to one edge of the bench, Miller propped one foot on it, and folded his arms across his knee, his face growing a bit more stoic as he trained his eyes onto the camera - which was actually moving to follow him - no doubt with Kayla manning the unit. “Seeing as how this was never what I was good at, I’m going to make this as brief as I possibly can, and leave all the hour-long soap-videos to the rest of you - especially you, Weapon - you seem to excel when it comes to long-winded tirades that don’t mean one damned thing. Last week, you, somehow, managed to find a way to fit all the clichés in the world into that bullshit you spat out against Wheeler. The whole damned thing was like some fucking “Golden Oldies” compilation for professional wrestling ... I really could not give any less of a damn what kind of history the two of you have ... When one of you just sits there rambling on about why one of you does a move better than the other, than I feel the need to congratulate you, because you have just crossed the boundaries of idiocy. In one single act, you turned yourself from a “washed-up”, into a “might-as-well-have-never-been” ... And that is not easy to do. Then of course, we had the mention of the undefeated streak ... Well, it used to be an undefeated streak, anyway ... Wheeler took care of that little quirk, now didn’t he? ... Guess that makes me the only person going into this match with an undefeated SCW career ... Tell me something, Weapon, how does it feel knowing the guy that nobody expects to beat you, and no one thinks has a chance against you ... Is someone who not only has a better record than you here in SCW, but a better record over-all? ... Did you know that? ... You seem to like numbers, so let me give a small set of them - over two hundred career matches, on American, Japanese, Mexican, Canadian and English soil - and out of those two hundred, I’ve been beaten sixty times. Sixty - out of over two hundred - think you can convert that into a percentage with all that intelligence you try to convince everyone you have? ... Or is it too depressing for you to think about? “The week before that, “Redemption”, you pretty much cut loose on everybody, didn’t you? ... You dropped names like Bush drops bombs ... To be honest you both have the same effect, actually ... Dropping the wrong shit, in the wrong place, pissing a bunch of people off, and turning the entire world against you because you had to go and be a stupid fucking idiot. After that, it was all a bunch of grunting, growling, hooting and hollering like any brain-dead monkey could pull out of its ass ... All the usual topics, like how you’re better than everyone else, and no one will stop you, and this, that, the other thing, and the last detail that no one was even awake for by the time you got to it ... I might be going blind, but I even think I saw you questioning who would be next, after Wheeler ... Just so I’m not too confused, I want to clarify that someone who prided himself on an undefeated streak ... A spear ... And physical dominance ... Was asking who was next ... Yeah, that sure as fuck sounds familiar, now doesn’t it? ... Look what happened to the last guy that went down that side alley ... No wonder you’re such a little bitch, Weapon.” Lowering his head into a shake of pity, Miller lifted it back up again, his expression even more solidified now as he burned a hole through the lens with the intense focus of his stare, as if he could see the man, himself, standing right in front of him. “I may not have your flash and flair when it comes to stringing words together, Weapon, but I do know that you are nowhere near as big, bad, or powerful as you want to think you are. You are a former champion; emphasis on the “former”, meaning someone beat you, and left you laying flat on your back for, at least, three whole seconds. That is called being knocked out, in case you did not know, and it is not a fun thing to go through, because it means someone was beating the hell out of you long enough to get you that weak in the first place. Another little fact - machines cannot be knocked out - so if you’ve been flat on your back before, you are no machine ... And certainly not a lethal killer. Now, I might respect your ability in the ring - and in fact, I do - and I will bow my head in recognition of what you used to be able to claim ... But, that was then, this is now, and right now, I could not give any less of a rat’s half-ass what you think you are, or what you think you can do ... Want to know why? - Because I have already beaten you ... Plain and simple, I have already beaten the “great and powerful” Lethal Weapon ... I have beaten you, because I have beaten men better than you. I have beaten men worse than you. I have beaten men bigger than you, smaller than you, and smarter than you! - Face the facts, dingbat - there is nothing special about the Lethal Weapon - you’re one of a hundred thousand other “machines” out there trying to make a name for themselves ... Some of them make it, and some of them don’t ... So far, you’ve had a hell of a lucky run, but luck runs around when you stretch it long enough ... And that’s where I come in.” Dropping his foot from the bench, Miller stepped over it and sat back down again, obviously not in the mood for a lot of motion and movement. Leaning forward a bit, he draped his arms over the top of his thighs, and just cocked his head a little as he gazed into the camera, remaining silent for just a moment. “Enough about Weapon ... He knows his place, he just doesn’t want to accept it ... Kind of like you, Savior. We may not have as much history as Weapon and your brother, but there is enough between us to call this something of a grudge, even if I am the only one that wants to bring it out. You still remember the Underground Battle Royal from last year, don’t you? - You remember going toe-to-toe with me, and getting your head smashed into the pavement? - Getting that pretty white smile cracked open until blood dribbled from your mouth? - I don’t even know why I’m asking ... Of course you remember, but you won’t ever admit to it ... You’re too busy whining and bitching about the fucking title. For the entire half-year that I have been here, all I have ever heard from you is “I want my title shot” - good for you, asshole, so does everybody else! ... What the fuck makes you think you’re good enough to have a title shot? ... People tell me I run my mouth and never back it up, but at least I’m not as bad as you ... “I think the word you use is “opportunistic” ... Right? ... That is how you like to describe yourself these days, as someone who takes advantage of every opening he can find. Good, so do I ... As a matter of fact, I have every intention of taking advantage of that opening in your face, by cracking those pretty white teeth of yours all over again... At least then, you’ll actually have something to cry about! ... You’re almost as deluded as Weapon is, Chris ... You’re not opportunistic, and you sure as hell don’t qualify for unpredictable ... Everyone knows what you’re about, and everyone can read you like a first-grade English book ... “Curious George” has more plot twists than your little story, Savior, so my suggestion is that you “save” us all, and get the fuck off our televisions before our heads explode. The first time I fought you, back in that royal, I actually thought you were better than me ... I was the one being an idiot back then ... Things change with time, don’t they? ... Now I’m the one that no one could have predicted ... I’m the one that has heads turning, jaws dropping, and hearts beating faster than ever before ... And if you don’t believe me ... Then just watch it happen ... This Wednesday night, I’m not only going to put the so-called “Phoenix” out for good, I intend to piss all over the fucking ashes!” Reaching up with both hands, Miller drug his fingers through his hair, and then snapped his head to one side, cracking the bones in his neck with a violent series of snaps, before relaxing himself again, and returning his stare into the camera, his expression falling into almost a sympathetic scowl. “Last of all, we come to The Dynasty ... Three of the biggest pieces of God-awful, hot-air-infested, thick-headed, shit-for-brains bastards to ever disgrace a wrestling ring ... And Shorty. It actually cracks me up to think that that youngest member of that group is the only one carrying any kind of gold, then again, Shorty is the only one with any kind of real talent ... I saw it back when he was part of Majestic, and I still do. The kid is one of the best I’ve ever seen, and I’ve damn near seen everyone there is to look at ... Makes me wonder why the hell he’d want to hang around The Dynasty ... The old saying goes, you hang out with garbage long enough, and you’ll start to smell just like the rest of the shit. - You need to think about that, Johnson, you seriously do ... Look at yourself ... Majestic Champion, Lion-Heart Champion, God of Wrestling ... Right now, you could call yourself “The Man”, and no one would argue it. You got more love from those people out there, than you think, and the fact that you keep ignoring them for a gutless little pussy like Carrington, and a washed-up “wigger” of a thug like Jackson, only proves that you got into this business too damned young, and too damned early. Why do you think the two of them came to you, kid? ... It sure as hell wasn’t because they liked you ... Its the same reason Jackson went after Stevens ... Why the Rebellion went after Stevens ... They know how damned good you are ... So they want you with them, instead of against them... Do you really believe they would have looked twice at you, if it weren’t for all that skill you got? ... Hell, no, they wouldn’t have. And it wasn’t because you’re black either, so we can throw that out the window right now ... Don’t believe me? ... Just watch ... The second things start going downhill for your boys, which, thanks to me, will be later this week ... Whatever reputation you think you have with them is going to get flushed straight down the tubes. “Next up on the list, we got Carrington. He calls himself “Silkk”, I call him “Sandpaper”, and everyone else just calls him “That Other Black Guy”. You I don’t even need to open my mouth to, because I said everything I needed to say last week ... Absolutely nothing has changed from the Michael Carrington I owned all over Majestic. They say that everyone has that one person they just cannot seem to beat, and it has become apparent that when it comes to you, Michael ... That “someone” ... Is everyone! - I told you a long time ago that you didn’t have the heart and soul to be in this business, but you didn’t want to listen to me ... So, here you are in the “big time”, the SCW, and you’re getting your ass fucked over worse than Lewis ever has ... If anything, you’ve actually gotten worse than what I remember! - and what I remember was pretty damned bad ... All that bullshit about club hopping and “laying pipe” and how you were going to “shut the haters up” ... Small history lesson, Michael ... I’m the biggest hater you got, and you’ve never even been able to put a scratch on me. Back in Majestic I took your title, I took your reputation, I took your dignity and most of all, I took the wind right out of your sails ... Five and Zero, Carrington, that’s what I got up on you ... I think its time we rounded that up ... What do you think?” Finishing up that last statement, Miller stared into the camera for a long time, and finally just waved it off as he rose to his feet, and started to cross the locker room to the other side ... Prompting the scene itself to fade out to a silent black, before Kayla powered down the unit, and ended the recording session. ---------- “Baby, are you feeling okay?” Setting the camera down on the bench, I watched Kayla immediately turn to face me, her eyes widening in a bit of alarm as she crossed to the couch where I’d slouched, and slipped down onto the cushions beside me, one of her hands going to the side of my neck with a tender touch - she was checking my pulse. Lifting my own hand, I pulled hers away, and let my head fall back against the top of the seat, staring off through the ceiling and into the distance as I rubbed my thumb across the back of her knuckles. “I’m fine, Hon, I’m not having any attacks ... I just got sick of talking. I hate having to sit in front of a camera like that, I always have, and it is not how I like to do things. That kind of stuff is for people like Weapon, Savior, Cherry, Gold and all the others ... Their entire career rests on stuff like this ... They need to stand in front of those cameras and do shit like that ... I don’t. That may be part of who they are, but it’s never been a part of who I am ... I’m one of them ... And I always have been ...” Lifting my hand, I gestured in the direction of the door leading out to the hallway, and eventually the stage ... The stands, crowded with thousands of screaming fans ... That is what kept driving me to keep going, even when I knew I did not stand a chance against the odds. Wednesday night was going to be another example. No one expected me to come out of this thing the winner, and I doubt half the people in the world expect me to even last until the end ... But, that’s what makes me so determined to do just that ... Anytime someone says I cannot do something, I wind up doing it ... Every time the world says “No”, I come right back with a “Yes” right between their eyes. It’s been the basis of my career since I got started. Lethal Weapon ... Christian Savior ... And The Dynasty ... All my comments to them, aside, I’m not some brain-dead moron who expects to just walk out into that match and take the place over, I know this is going to be the greatest challenge I have ever faced ... Not just in SCW, but in my entire career ... I wasn’t kidding when I told Weapon I’d faced better men, worse men and equal men ... But, I’ve never had to face them down all at once, knowing each one of them had a reason to bear a grudge against me outside of the usual competition. Still ... I made a promise ... I gave my word to the world, to the kids like AJ and Toby ... To the fans that not only came to accept me, but now empower me ... I vowed that I would always fight, no matter what ... And now I am making myself a promise ... Fuck fighting - I’m fucking winning! ---------- Tomorrow is Wednesday, the night of one of the most important matches in my career, as I said before, and right now, I can barely even think about it without watching my skin go pale, and my fingers begin to quiver from the knuckles down. Not out of fear, I have never been afraid of anything in my life, and I do not intend to break that tradition now - this is anticipation - this is excitement - this joy is knowing that in less than twenty-four hours, I will walk down to the SCW ring, and I will prove, for good and all, that I belong here. Everybody in this match has a reason, some kind of motivation or drive that fuels their rage, and sends the adrenaline racing through their blood at the speed of light, licking along their insides like hot lightning, until it cannot be ignored - it becomes a call that must be answered at any cost, or price. For Weapon, the call takes one of two forms - it will fuel either his need for vengeance and retribution over his loss against Wheeler, or it will increase the raging anger that already powered the inhuman machine that destroys lives with such ease. I can only hope that the former is the truth, because when revenge and “payback” rule the mind, it leaves it open to mistakes, and short-comings - and in a match against a man as dominating as the Lethal Weapon, that is the only chance that you can hope to stand. You can only be patient and cautious, surviving the onslaught until that one faltering step - that missed punch - that bad landing - that sideways glance that removes his focus - it is the little things like that that lead one man to victory, and another to defeat. I know it all too well, because that is the same ruling that has judged my entire career. I am nobody that you could call “Larger than Life” - and I am thankful for it. I do not seek to be viewed as someone who “stands out” when surrounded by the crowd - not because I wish to remain anonymous, no one could claim such a thing, we all wish to be noticed - I say that because I have never felt myself to be all that spectacular. I became a professional fighter and wrestler at the age of sixteen, for the most part, because there was a beautiful girl in the class, and I wanted to screw her! - That is the true beginning of my near-ten-year career! - The infamous David “Stryker” Miller enrolled in the UPW University, simply because one hot-looking redhead was training there, and what better way to get my hands on her, then to join the same class! - I wish the truth were something nobler, but there it is. Still, that one truth is what serves as the base and foundation for my very being - I have never attempted to be something I am not - be it in front of a camera, or in the eyes of those who pay their hard-earned money in order to come and watch me perform for them. What those people see as I walk through the curtains, they know to be the truth, the reality of it all - I do not hide behind false names and monikers, and I do not hide away from the world - I am a simple, average, every day young man, who just happens to compete as a professional wrestler for a living - and one who competes with quite a bit of success. This is why the world rallies behind me - why they choose to voice their support in me every time I take my place inside that ring, - no matter the odds that stand across from me. This week, I will need all their support, as well as the love and strength of my cherished Kayla, in order to overcome what can only be described as “insurmountable odds”. I have made mention of the Lethal Weapon, and I even attempted to chastise him during a small vignette that Kayla filmed in our locker room ... I am afraid the attempt was a failure, as I have never done well when looking into a lens ... I speak from the heart, the soul and the mind, and that is not something you can do while the world watches in anticipation. But now, left to my own thoughts, and the privacy of my surroundings, I can relate my opinions of those who I intend to hurl, one by one, from the inside of the ring ... And rather than “save the best for last”, as the saying goes ... I intend to make the Lethal Weapon my very first elimination. At the moment, I find myself sitting upon a marble bench at the lakeside shoal of one of the numerous Koi ponds within the Myriad Gardens of Oklahoma City. The lake itself is about twenty feet deep, thirty across, and twenty-two wide - complete with a rising geyser up through the center, and surrounding waterfalls that serve as filters, churning fresh oxygen into the water. Normally, this section of the gardens is kept off-limits, but a few extra dollars slipped into the hands of the proprietor earned me a fifteen minute respite beside the water - just long enough to clear my head, and air out my thoughts. Last Wednesday, a great many things occurred that I have absolutely no understanding of - returns of old faces whose names I do not recognize - rivalries born and reborn again, over every subject and cause, from women to championships. New alliances were formed, while others were strained, shattered, or rendered obsolete through the use of violent actions and irreconcilable words. To say that it was a landmark show for the year of two-thousand and seven would be a statement worthy of monumentalizing idiocy. And yet, with all the surprises, and all the impact made by the previous show, all I can think about is the one that will be taking place here, in Oklahoma, at the nearby Ford Center. After five months, a mere five months, most of which was not even spent inside an SCW ring, I will be taking part in a Co-Main Event match that could easily be worthy of the label “show-stealer” - an enraged Lethal Weapon, a psychotic Christian Savior, a determined Dynasty ... And myself ... A simple, average young man, blessed with an incredible talent for athleticism and sport, carrying the hopes and dreams of a supporting world upon his shoulders. If it were not for the peaceful surroundings in which I now find myself, I would more than likely have succumbed to an attack by now, since there is no question that my stress level has reached astronomical proportions. Even Kayla recognizes the danger, hence why she, herself, sits beside me on this bench, my hand clutched inside her own as she rests her head upon my shoulder. Like the thousands around the country that call my name as I enter the ring, this young woman has given me more strength, and more confidence in my abilities, than anything else I have ever been blessed with possessing - including titles. Titles can be lost, and championships can be ended within the space of a moment - but love endures through everything, so long as you fight to protect it. The crowds will cheer for you one moment, and bay for your blood the very next, and all you can hope for, is that one precious love, something to cling to when the storm reaches its most perilous, and seeks to dash you against the rocks until nothing is left. It may be the voice of the fans that comes through me each time I pick up a microphone, and seek to strip away the illusionary armor that my opponents wrap themselves up in - but it was Kayla that gave me the courage to speak in the first place - and it will be this same woman that cheers loudest, when I have won. Reaching up to cradle the back of her head with my hand, I tangled my fingers into the strands of her hair, while watching the lolling waves sent along the surface of the lake by the spurting geyser - the rippling effect lingering in my mind as I again thought of the coming match. Like those growing ripples, what effect would it have on each of us? ... What result would come for the winner, once he emerges? No doubt, Savior will seek to propel himself into the title scene once again - his tenacity borders on the fanatical, and I am beginning to think that he will not be sated until he has been made to taste his own blood at the hands of the champion. Cherry is a man few will overcome, (myself included, although I have every intention of doing so), and there is no doubt in my mind, that Savior will find himself grounded, and the wings of the “phoenix” clipped rather quickly, should he continued to force the issue. The Dynasty seeks respect, infamy and impact - there is no doubt or argument about that simple fact. Both Jackson and Carrington have joined for the strict purpose of making themselves known to the world - a feat that they have been able to accomplish with quite a bit of success. They do seem to struggle with their share of dead weight, (speaking of Lewis, and, in fact, of Carrington, himself), and yet they have dominated not only the Dresser Boys, but also Cherry and his Pit Crew, (although it was Donovan Kayl who became the costing factor in the match). Still, I find myself pondering the question - concerning a group of individuals so eager to set their names in stone - what promise or loyalty can the Dynasty hope to keep to, when the rules state the match to be “every man (or woman) for themselves”? Can Carrington count on Jackson not to eliminate him? Can Lewis expect Johnson to remain neutral to the group until all others have been removed? What of Jackson, himself? The Dynasty claims to have no leader, and yet Jackson often takes point - perhaps there is someone else who would like to claim the unseen role of lead. Then we have - myself - David Miller - what is it that victory would bring for me? ... I think the simplest answer would be the most appropriate, in that it would bring me one step closer to fulfilling my promise to two special people - a couple of small boys who placed their hope and dreams within my hands, and wordlessly asked me to bring them to life. Since that happened, those two boys have been joined by hundreds, and perhaps even thousands more, as each and every week, I find my name being chanted louder, longer, and by an ever-growing number of voices. I have been charged with the label of the “Voice of the People” - I have become their chosen warrior - and I will do all in my power, to fight to the greatest extend of my capabilities, no matter the odds set against me. There are times, of course, where I know the only outcome will be defeat - but you live to fight when it is all that you know - this is what they expect of me, this is what I have promised them I would do - and each time I fight, win or lose, they support me. To me, this match will elevate me into the status in which both the people, and myself, believe that I belong - that of the SCW “Elite” - the leaders that dominate the ring, and command the fearful respect of all those that they face. Men like Cherry, and Gold, and Wheeler, and Speed, and Valentine ... Weapon was once one of these men, but he has fallen low, he believes himself better than he truly is - a fact I will be more than happy to bring into physical truth in just forty-eight hours. For too long I have been content to sit in the bleachers, and take the “hand out” opponents that I was given - now the time has come to step up, and prove why my name has been active for so long - why my reputation proceeds me in every company for which I sign. The Battle Royal is only the beginning to a much loftier end. Victory in the Royal will silence those who doubt what I can do, and have the childish audacity to claim me as “inconsistent”, or “posing” as a professional wrestler - due to past actions, or my own private personality quirks. By overthrowing two proven champions in Weapon and Savior, and breaking down the Dynasty, the men who defeated Cherry, I will leave nothing to doubt - I am the absolute best in the world. From here ... I will “Take Hold” of the flame that awaits me, and has been patiently waiting for me since the SCW got its first look at David “Stryker” Miller. It does not matter who rises up in my way, be it Weapon, Savior, The Dynasty, Jay Gold, Valentine, Andrews, The Rebellion, Cherry, The Pit Crew ... No one will stop me from scaling the mountain, and hoisting the championship high above my head ... And when that happens, the world will cry out in one single voice - praising the reign of its chosen champion. ---------- |
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| Shorty Jr. | May 29 2007, 10:40 PM Post #6 |
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God of Wrestling
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| Chris Renegade | May 29 2007, 10:52 PM Post #7 |
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Unregistered
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Era of the Phoenix: Chapter 22 – Part 2: Timing is Everything… Tick tock goes the clock, and time is almost up. Have you taken my advice to heart? Have you heeded my warning? Or have you simply lounged about, doing absolutely nothing but repeat the same crap I have heard over and over again? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The train ride had gone without any hassle, and the night in the hotel lobby was somewhat effective for resting my body. That being said, nothing was better than waking up in the lobby at 8:27 am. The other SCW superstars: Lethal Weapon, Shorty Jr., MacGregor, Silkk, Liana Lewis, and Shyne had about eleven and a half hours till it was my time… Stretching a little to get rid of the stiffness in my joints, I looked around the lobby. I had only slept a few hours, but I still felt full of energy. I only hoped that I had this much energy later tonight. As I stood up on tiled, marble floor, I saw the busy hustle of lobbyists and bell-boys as they scurried around the many rooms, preparing for when the hotel residents would wake up and come downstairs, assuming they did. Cracking my neck a little to the right, I quickly picked up my black duffle bag as I walked out the hotel door. The cool, morning air of spring hit me full force and was a cool sensation in my lungs. The nightlife was almost finished disappearing into the alleys and streets, which surprised as the sun was clearly out already. A nearby clock struck the half-hour of eight as I walked past a hot-dog stand. Rifling through my pockets, I found the $5.96 change I had. True, I made more money than this, but I wasn’t about to waste it in hotel rooms and extravagant restaurants, at least not till I won the Battle Royal at the next pay-per-view. Sometimes, it was best to save money than waste it. Handing the four dollars to the seller, who incidentally looked like a typical hot-dog guy in a Stan Lee movie, I bought a plain hot dog. I was glad that my hair was not a mess and my clothes weren’t entirely wrinkled. I still looked fairly presentable in my blue jeans, black shirt and shoes, and leather jacket…and now hot dog. I forced myself to savor the taste instead of wolfing it down my throat. This would probably have to last me until I was on my way to Taking Hold of the Flame later tonight after Breakdown. What ran through my mind was wondering how many of my opponents had taken my warning seriously and either stepped up their game, or had backed out all together. I knew Weapon would definitely not back down. Quite the opposite, really. He was probably recording something right now, saying the same boring lecture he had used against Weapon at how unworthy we all were to be in his presence and how much greater he was compared to me. Such delusions, Weapon. You truly have not changed, have you? The morning breeze flew in, pulling my hair back a little. I liked walking against the wind, like the guys in the movies. An avenger, they would call them. Difference between me and the movies was that I was real and was living my life, while people like MacGregor and Silkk were merely living a short dream. Checking the streets, I pulled out a small map of Oklahoma City. So much for not looking like a tourist… Within a minute, I had found the street where the arena was. Breakdown was going to be held there. Sighing, I folded the map up, just as something bumped into me. Looking down, I saw a small kid in what appeared to be tattered clothes. Kid: Sorry… Watch it, Savior. You’ve seen this kind of things in movies…watch your wallet… But the kid was already gone. As I reached down to my pocket, I realized that so had my wallet. Swearing silently, I looked around. He could not have gotten far. I finally spotted him running down another street. And here I was worried about not getting any exercise today! I swore at the idea in my head as I gave chase after the thief. The streets weren’t that crowded since it was early in the morning. The kid was small, so it was easy to catch up to him. As he turned into an alley, I was less than two feet from him. I reached out to grab him when I saw his arm fly upward. The wallet flew from his hand up into the air. He had tossed it to get rid of me. Stopping, I watched the wallet soar through the air and into the hands of another child in similar clothes. This new kid stood on a fire escape on the side of the wall. The game of hunting had turned into a damn game of hot potato! Groaning loudly, I felt a surge of energy as I leaped up and grabbed the fire-escape stairs. Pulling myself up, I went after the new possessor of my wallet. I must have run up five or so floors, because as I neared the kid, I realized that I had run out of steps. We both were on the roof of the building, which was fairly wide. He was in the middle as I stood at the end near the fire-escape. The ceiling had a guardrail on it, probably for safety reasons. Focusing on the kid, I slowly walked forward. Savior: Nice pull there, kid. You and your buddy. I moved my hand forward towards him. I could tell he was terrified that I would hurt him. Savior: Now give me back my wallet. I have places to be. Kid 2: I don’t think this is yours, sir. I had to smirk had his ploy. He was trying to cover up while he tried to find a way out. Slowly, I approached him, forcing him to go closer to the rail. Savior: If you look inside it, you’ll find my picture in it, as well as most of my personal identification. Not a lot of money, which is what I am guessing you’re after. The kid must have heard me, for he quickly looked inside. There was a few dollar bills, but not much that would be of use to him. Kid: Don’t see your name. I could sell it you, if you like it so much. Savior: Oh what a charming idea! Let me get my wallet! Oh wait…I can’t… I feigned a small chuckle, but truth be told, I was becoming annoyed with these little punks and also at myself for getting involved in this in the first place. I was a foot away and I grabbed the kid by the shirt collar. Pulling him up to face me, I could literally smell the sweat pouring off him in fear. Savior: The wallet…now! Looking down the building, the boy must have been contemplating his options. Suddenly, he tossed the wallet over the side of the building. Tossing the boy aside, I scrambled to the guardrail as the wallet landed into the hands of a teenager. He wore similar clothes as the two kids. How many fucking kids are there here?! Teen: Thanks, pal! And with that he was off. He was a little shorter than me, but that could have just been me seeing things from way on top of the building. Looking around, I found a second fire-escape and scrambled down it. The teenager knew this alley better than I did, so I wasn’t about to trap him anytime soon. He was a good block ahead of me and it was only a guess that allowed me to keep on his tail as I ran after him. This won’t stop till I either get the wallet back or let them go. I am not about to do the latter, but what if… I had one chance at this. With a spin, I ran down an alley that I saw was leading down to another street altogether. I saw him turn onto another block, which was one alley away from the path I ran now. The path had several alleys that led into his, but, I had to wait. He would either keep running down that main street and get caught by a cop, or… He appeared several feet behind me, stopping to catch his breath, believing he had lost me, no doubt. Turn in an alley to catch his breath… With a loud shout, I yelled at the boy. Upon hearing my voice, he spun around and saw me. Unfortunately, he didn’t have enough time to react, as I was too close. With one swift moment, I lowered myself and speared him to the ground. Speared, tackled, what’s the difference? The boy fell to the ground with a dull thud. Holding my hand to his neck so he stayed in place, I looked him in the eyes. We were both panting, trying to catch our breath. Holding him place with my right, I grabbed the wallet from his hands with my left. He was too tired to fight back. Standing up to my feet, I dusted off the gravel that was on my pants. The teenager was still on the ground, holding his ribs and trying to breathe again. Smirking, I placed the wallet back into my jacket pocket as I pulled out a dollar from my change and two pieces of paper. Lowering onto the balls of my feet, I helped the kid up to his feet. I would have left him lying there, but I could relate to his situation. After all, I had been where he was. He looked at me, confused. Handing him the dollar bill, I smirked at him. Savior: For the workout. I then placed the two pieces of paper into his hands, which were actually Breakdown tickets for tonight. This only confused him even more. Savior: Either sell those or come to the show and pick-pocket the fans. Trust me. Pure gold! I whispered to him. Oh yes…I knew where he was coming from. The boy smiled at me and nodded eagerly. Savior: Take it easy, kid. I said as I ruffled his hair. He was so much like me. He could even have been my son… Don’t think about that…that will come later, Christian… As the boy rushed off, I turned around and headed back to the main street. Looking around, I saw the name of the street. Sighing slightly, I pulled out my map. I was a bit off from where I had started, but could still make it to the arena. Placing the map back in my coat pocket, I checked to see if my wallet was still there. I released a deep breath as I realized it was. Everything was in order again, so now it was time to prepare for Breakdown… Duffle bag… I froze in place as my hand automatically jumped to my shoulder. Nothing was there. It must have slipped off when I gave chase after that kid. Groaning loudly, I checked my watch. I still had hours left before deadline time. Savior: Fuck! Here we go again! I muttered as I ran down the street… ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The arena looms over me as I walk along the parking lot, my black, and now white and brown, duffel bag slung over my shoulder. The time is 11:12 am. In about nine hours, breakdown would start. I had about right hours till I was to deliver my promised tirade. This was truly a moment for the Rising Phoenix, the inevitable waiting… As I walked into the arena, after showing my clearance badge to security, I was surprised to learn that I was the only superstar in the building. Than again, I was fairly early… Make that very early. The tech would be here, they would have to have started set-up already. Keeping that in mind, I made my way through the doorways until I was in the arena. True to form, construction was already beginning, setting up the titan-tron and ramp-way. Savior: Ah, the people behind the image of SCW. Making my way down a few steps, I took a seat in one of the middle-crowd sections of the arena, my feet resting on the top of the seat in front of me. Savior: Time to see who has taken my opportunity seriously. Reaching into my pocket as I set my duffle bag down beside me, I pulled out my cell-phone. Odds were the tech truck was here already, but just to make sure. Dialing the main SCW number followed by the truck’s extension number, I waited for one of the guys to answer the phone. It dialed three or four times before the line got through. Tech: Yea? Savior: SCW Tech? Tech: Yes. Savior: Good. It’s Christian Savior. Tech: Oh…what can I do for you, Chris? Savior: Same as usual. Can you tell send me the videos of the superstars’ promos for my match at Breakdown? Tech: I can have someone send the videos to your locker room. Are you in the arena? Savior: Yes, I just stepped in. I have to make sure I know who I am up against and who is serious about this match. Tech: Alright. It will be in your locker room when you get there. Savior: Alright. Tech: Anything else? Savior: Yea, just one thing. Tech: What’s that? Savior: Where the hell is my locker room? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Twenty-five minutes later… Noon-hour. Only eight hours till Breakdown. While several superstars were probably just on their way here in their humid cars, I was relaxing in an air-conditioned room. Since no-one was around, the lounge was all mine. It was a small room with a medium-size couch and a television with a VCR. As I sat on the couch, I looked at the videos I had picked up at my locker-room. Apparently, only one person had heeded my warning. True, Weapon and Silkk had sent promos before me, but MacGregor was the only one that had heard me and, no doubt, acted accordingly. Still, I knew Weapon. I had watched him wrestle before. He would send one more thing. It was as obvious as Oleksa Drachewych’s bad leg. Weapon would give one more promo to try and out do my threat. Well, we will have to see about that, Weapon… Turning the T.V. on, I put the video of Weapon’s promo in the VCR first and hit play. I wanted to make sure I ripped him apart when the time came. If anyone deserved to be humiliated it was… ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Riddick: Christian? Christian! …it was Weapon! I felt two strong hands shaking my shoulders. Slowly, I pulled myself up off the couch. Looking around, I recognized the lounge. I also noticed my older brother, Adam Riddick. When had he gotten here? Savior: Adam? When did you get here? Riddick: Around 5pm. You? Savior: Around noon…Wait…What time is it? Riddick: Six. What?! Six?! The idea seemed impossible to me. Had I fallen asleep here? For six hours? What had caused me to fall asleep so quickly? Savior: I see. Looking at the television screen, which was now a light blue, I lifted the VCR covering and saw the name “Weapon Promo” on the side. Well…that explains why I feel asleep… I released a chuckle as I pressed rewind. Savior: I thought only a soft music could get me to sleep. Riddick: What? Savior: Nothing. I need to watch these videos in an hour. Riddick: Alright. I’ll leave you alone. Good luck tonight. Savior: Thanks, Adam. I was relieved as Adam left the room. I had to concentrate on what was being said, and not fall asleep again… ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ One hour later One hour till Breakdown The tech had allowed me a camera to use for the hour I needed. It had been a while since I had used a camera for a promo myself, but I was still sure on how to use it. Stepping up to it, I pressed the record button and sat back down as the camera faded into focus. Savior: Time’s up, guys. Your twenty-four hour time frame has expired, and I must say I am disappointed, but not surprised. You see, only MacGregor and Shorty Jr. took my threat seriously. The rest of you are probably running around like chickens with your heads cut off trying to make an impression and to get inside our heads. But I have already done that you see. You are rushing because you already know that I will inevitably appear again. You are rushing because you know I will soon do exactly what I promised to do, and in doing so, you all have done exactly what I had hoped you do. The old saying is “fools rush in”. You all have rushed in blindfolded because you all believe that is all it is going to take to make something of yourself in SCW. Sorry to say, it doesn’t work that way. You have to plan, you have to outsmart, and you have to execute every opportunity that you can, and as much as I have listened to the crap the few superstars with balls have said, I am the only one that can honestly say that I have done that. None of you have done what I have done in their careers. You want the hardcore truth? Here it is. I have done in less than one year what you pitiful excuses of superstars couldn’t do in your entire careers. That leads me to the first target of tonight. MacGregor. You were the only one smart enough…or dumb enough…to take me up on my challenge, but truthfully, I expected more out of you. I mean, you claim to have kicked my ass a year ago at Taking Hold of the Flame, yet all I hear you say is “Savior doesn’t have my respect. He will never have my respect”. Let me tell you something, rookie. If I wanted your respect, I would ask for it. I don’t want your respect, so you can give up trying to beat me in mind games by stating your damn morals. I could care less if you are “humanitarian of the year” or “all-around nice guy”. That shit doesn’t cut it here in SCW. So don’t waste my time with respect or honor. I earned the respect I got around here. I earned the prestige that so righteously belongs to me. You kicked my ass a year ago. I don’t remember that being the case. So you punched me a few times in the ring at the last Battle Royale. Did you win the match? Did you go to Rise to Greatness and compete in a hell of a match and win? Did you go on to make history? No? No, you didn’t. Riddick won the Battle Royale and you disappeared. While you rotted away in your pathetic existence, I continued to learn and improve. I took a loss and made it a victory. The Rising Phoenix spread his wings and flew after Rise to Greatness and it was because I never gave up. I never surrendered, like you did. I became the first ever “Triple Crown Champion” of SCW. What about you? How many titles have you won? I could probably count them on one hand. The point is, MacGregor, Miller or whatever you call yourself now, that in your “ten-year-career”, you have achieved nothing! Your “career” is a road of broken dreams and failed plans. Get it, Davey? You have nothing, you are nothing and at Breakdown, you return to being nothing! Because you will never be SCW’s chosen champion. Effective, I think…Now for subject number two! Savior: Speaking of no expectations, that brings me to Michael Carrington. Mikey…Mikey…MC…Silkk… You must think you are the only one in SCW with something to prove, but you and I know better, right? I have to admit, though. Your promo made me laugh the longest. Oh don’t be mad. I meant that as a prop for you. After all, it takes a lot of stupidity to make me laugh. I have never been called an “old fossil” before. Did you think of that one all by yourself, Silkk? Or did you have to get a dictionary to look up the words first? Let me lay it out for you nice and clear, dawg. SCW is many things to many people. To some, it’s a job and a business. To others, entertainment of the highest caliber. What it will never be is your personal playground. You think your precious “Dynasty” is going to take it over? Let me bring up a little memory for you, cause you probably have spend the last two years practicing wrestling outside on a trampoline than actually watching us. Many factions have come and tried to take over SCW and make it their own “home”. Mercenaries, ULC, PPV, Explicit Content, New Blood Rebellion, Unholy Alliance, Instruments of Destruction. The list goes on and on. You know what happened to them, Silkk? They fell, as they always do. Content died away when their leader couldn’t take the pressure. Same with PPV. As for NBR, Mercenaries, and ULC, Unholy Alliance, and Instruments of Destruction, they met their end by my hand! I systematically destroyed each and every one of their factions! Don’t you get it? I destroy factions like yours! It’s easy. Your faction is made up of small no-namers from Majestic. How pathetic! This isn’t Majestic, Carrington. This is SCW! A place where your little “groupie” cannot possibly exist! Sooner or later, you will realize that. Sooner or later, you will realize that when it comes to me, the man with the most guys in his corner doesn’t always win! But onto that little “fossil” joke and never competing unless I need to. Let me share something with you. You are looking at the man that held three championships at once. I was at every Breakdown before last week, competing in matches you probably would have nightmares about! Breakdown was classified as my show, because that’s what I did. I stole the show EVERY week. Whenever I was in the ring, the audience, the match, the world of SCW belonged to me. I defied expectations and I defied odds. That’s exactly what’s going to happen tonight, Silkk. There will be no fever of yours, unless you suffer from delusions of grandeur. Tonight, I steal the show again, because SCW is my home and my world, and no Majestic retard is taking that from me. The same to you Liana, Shorty Jr. and Shyne. You may have all worked wonders in Majestic or whatever cesspool you dragged yourselves from, but like I said, this is SCW. Yes, Dynasty, S does stand for Supreme. That’s what we true SCW superstars define our lives by. But S also stands for Savior. That is the name of the man who has revolutionized this business. That is the name of the man who will be in the hall of fame someday. That is the name of the man chosen to hold the flame in his hands at Taking Hold of the Flame. That is the man who will become the SCW Champion. No one, least of all a petty impersonation of a once good stable is going to take that from me. My lips and jaw shook with the adrenaline that pumped through my veins. Checking the clock behind the camera, I quickly noted that I had less than thirty minutes left. That was really all I needed to take care of the last thorn in my side. Savior: That leaves you, Lethal Weapon. I’ll say this first. I don’t give a crap what happens to you or to the others in this match. The only reason I got involved in this match was because it was an opportunity to take out some opponents and I seized it. But you are a former SCW Champion. The only true SCW superstar in this match besides me. At least I would have said that if I knew as little about you as you apparently know about me. Skylar Desbourais is not, nor as she ever been my manager. Have you seen her in any of my matches? Has she accompanied me to ringside? As she interfered in any of my matches? No? Than where in your mind did you get the idea she was my manager. Strike one, Weapon. My hands grasp together as I smirk at the camera. I feel electricity pouring through my body, almost as if I am on a controlled tirade. Truth is…I like it… Savior: I am glad you remember the past so fondly, because I don’t remember facing you. That is how much that you and your existence mean to me. Absolutely nothing, because that is exactly how much of an impact you have made in SCW. None! But apparently you beat me. Congratulations. You get a medal and a pat on the back. Now go stand beside a few other people who have done the same thing. I bet you all could sit by the campfire and tell your stories. You beat me two years ago, Weapon, but I’ve got one question for you. Who the fuck cares? You think that because you were fortunate enough to get my shoulders on the mat for three seconds you deserve a Nobel Peace Prize? This isn’t 2005, Weapon. This 2007, and seeing as how you apparently know jack-shit about me, let me continue to fill in the blanks. Yes, I won the Underground Title and lost it a month later. If we are talking about length, than I could say I have held the Adrenaline and Tag titles longer than you have held the SCW Championship. So, I beat you there, jackass. Strike two for you. But your boring lecture didn’t end there now. I forced myself to listen to the whole thing, and apparently, you are capable of knowing what I think. Well if you can read my thoughts, than you should know what I am thinking right now. In case you can’t, I will tell you. I don’t need your help to capture the SCW Championship. You are nothing more than dead weight and have been since you arrived here. So if you plan on beating the shit out of me, you had better step up your game, get your head out of your ass and open your eyes to the real world of SCW and your opponent. Know the name: Christian SAVIOR, not Saviour! You see, Weapon, after you lost the SCW Championship, you disappeared and ran off to God knows where. Now you come back expecting things to have never changed. Well take a look around you. Things have changed. A legend, you called yourself? Most of us forgot you even existed. Hell, I forgot you even existed. You were a distant memory, nothing more. You left no mark on SCW. You come back trying to rectify that mistake and you get your ass handed to you by Jason Wheeler, and you say I suck? Weapon, get this through your thick, retarded, soap-opera loving head. The embarrassment is letting you back into SCW in the first place. The humiliation was to have the prestige of SCW ruined by your presence. Bottom line, you have never, nor will ever be a legend. You will never be able to take me on in an SCW ring. In two years, I have thrived and learned, while you have never changed. You are still a freeloader, going to whatever company will hire you and when you are kicked out for your pathetic abilities, you come crawling back to SCW, hoping that you get another chance. You blew that chance, Weapon. You blew it when Jason Wheeler pinned you 1…2…3! And unlike your win against me, it wasn’t two years ago. It was last week. You failed, as usual. As you will fail on Breakdown. It is inevitable, Weapon. This isn’t your ring anymore. This isn’t your show. It’s mine and the only mockery will be me making a mockery of how Jason beat you when I do it even faster and better than he did. I don’t need to be Xander Valentine or Greg Cherry, Weapon, because I already beat them…easily… Or did you not know that either? Here’s my advice, old man. Next time you take on the Rising Phoenix, make sure you know all the facts, because no one wants to hear your long winded speeches and retarded puns and gay jokes you use simply because you have no knowledge of your opponents. Get it right or stay out of this business, Weapon! Because at Breakdown, I show you what an embarrassment you are. I show the world what pathetic excuses of superstars Dynasty is and why they should stay in Majestic. I show MacGregor why I am the Rising Phoenix. More so, I show SCW that at Taking Hold of the Flame, like tonight…I will be the last man standing. And stand I shall… In a blaze of glory! Fade to Black |
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| Liana Lewis | May 29 2007, 10:56 PM Post #8 |
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For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. OOC: Ok, I'm fixing the html on this so it's not one huge paragraph, it's going to look really weird for the next few minutes, so keep refreshing until you see it. |
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9:53 AM Jul 11