[From a high angle in an office. Or more properly a home office. The picture is grainy and of a greenish tint. The timestamp reads 21:31 / NOV-17-09. Despite the picture quality, the voices give away the two individuals. They are the DCWL's Commissioner and Deputy Commissioner. Hayden takes a swig from a bottle, which after a second, he spits into a nearby wastepaper basket.]
HAYDEN: EEEEEuuuuugh!
ALLOY: Told you.
HAYDEN: Augh! E-yugh! It tastes like something you'd garnish with a urinal cake!
ALLOY: I don't care if they're the sponsor. Do what I did and just pour it down the drain. The deposit on the bottles is worth more than the content.
HAYDEN: No wonder Black Hole Brew is so desperate to give this stuff away.
ALLOY: I kind of envy Maurice Thompson, since he's too young to even drink this stuff.
HAYDEN: Yeah, well he's not too young to bait you, Kev.
ALLOY: I didn't let myself get drawn in, Kyle. He's been begging for it, and if he wants to go Third Tier, he can go ahead and do it.
[Hayden sighs.]
HAYDEN: I really hate the position he's put us in. It's bad enough we have to present a psychopathic cross burner as the face of the organization. And now suddenly we have to be a [unintelligible] babysitter. If we don't do anything, we're letting him get away with whatever he wants and if we punish him then he gets his wish and plays the [unintelligible] victim. Either way, we're screwed with Beckson. And then Thompson comes around and decides we're not doing enough and plays vigilante because—
ALLOY: Because he's too defensive of his girlfriend.
HAYDEN: Yeah, what's would he have us do if the tables were turned? Suppose Beckson were whipping him for insulting his girlfriend?
ALLOY: Well, I'll shut him down. Don't you worry about that.
[Uncomfortable pause.]
HAYDEN: Look, is that going to be necessary? I mean, is this some suicide-by-cop thing he's trying to pull or what?
ALLOY: I don't know and I don't care. That's the rules, I just enforce them.
HAYDEN: Yeah, but I think the kid pretty much knows what he got himself into; I don't think you need to assert your "authorit-ah."
[Silence.]
ALLOY: Did you just reference a decade-old episode of "South Park," buddy?
HAYDEN: "I'm not your buddy, guy!"
ALLOY: Oh god. Look, is there anything else I need to know about the show before you take off? And if you start quoting "Beavis and Butthead," I will [unintelligible] kill you.
HAYDEN: No. Don't think there's anything else. The Governor General should be getting his ceremonial sash and seal heart Fed-Exed to him shortly.
ALLOY: Right. And… uh… it's just a ceremonial title, right?
HAYDEN: Yeah… well, there is a loophole, but… it'll never happen. Yeah, it's just ceremonial.
ALLOY: Well, if you say so. I'm going to call it a night. You and Alison have a good ski trip—
HAYDEN: Well, actually—
ALLOY: Oh, god.
HAYDEN: You and Erica.
[Alloy pauses. BUSTED.]
ALLOY: Erica, what about her?
HAYDEN: You and Erica Toughill have been making eyes at each other. Every time she's backstage, you two are like *this*. So I gotta ask… what gives, huh?
ALLOY: Well… Who do you think she learned that discus lariat from?
HAYDEN: And why she calls that one move a "Jilldozer," right?
ALLOY: Yeah. Well, after the old DCWL folded up last year, she wanted to pick up a few new moves. That's it. No big deal.
HAYDEN: That's it, that's all?
ALLOY: That's it, that's all.
HAYDEN: Okay, just as long as there's no conflict of interest involved there, then I don't—
ALLOY: Welllll…
HAYDEN: Oh no.
ALLOY: We uh—
HAYDEN: You and her—
ALLOY: We did a few… Thesz Presses and spinebusters if you want to—
HAYDEN: AAAAAAAAGGGHHH!!!
[He covers his face with his hands as the image burns in his brain.]
ALLOY: Look, she was on the rebound, okay?
HAYDEN: Ohhhhhh go-d-d-d…
ALLOY: It's tough to say no to her; she's a real manipulator when she wants to be—
HAYDEN: Oh god, I can't believe you and Little Miss Muffin-top did—euuuuugghh!
ALLOY: HEY!
[Alloy glares down at the Commissioner.]
ALLOY: Do NOT… speak that way to me about Erica Toughill.
[Silence in the air except for the static hum of the cheap recording equipment.]
HAYDEN: I guess Maurice Thompson isn't the only to get defensive about a woman, huh, Kev? Do you have ANY idea the conflict of interest created by this. It's one thing for her to be in a relationship with a top star… But for her to be involved with a member of management—imagine the [unintelligible]-storm that would erupt if Henry Spikes ever found out about this. Please tell me you have nothing to do with her any more.
ALLOY: Trust me, Kyle, she's in the past.
HAYDEN: Alright. That's all I need to know, so let's consider the matter closed.
ALLOY: Sorry I blew up like that. Look, let's call it a night, okay?
HAYDEN: All right. I'll see ya in a couple weeks, Kev. Good luck against Thompson… and take it easy on the kid.
ALLOY: No promises, man. Have a good vacation.
[Alloy exits. Hayden shakes his head.]
HAYDEN: Erica and Kev… maybe I'll finish that case of Black Hole Swill after all.
[A brief burst of static. Then voices from a different time. Words are thrown around.]
"We've got them."
"Good work."
"I'm sorry."
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
"You know if there's one thing I love, it's to travel."
[Scene opens upon the wistful form of the American Freebear, a profile
shot of the only bear that flies. The aerialy-disposed Grizzly Adams
gives his thoughts over what brought him to the sport of professional
wrestling as he heads into battle at Black Hole Brew.]
"You're all talking with the American Freebear, the only bear that
flies.... But the thing is bears aren't born with wings to begin with.
I mean, obviously they aren't; but in my case, I was born of humbler
stock. Travelin' across the world has always been my ambition and
flying 'cross all those great countries of the world was my dream.
Don't wanna be no soldier, don't wanna be no journalist: I wanna fly
free like a bird, I want to be an honest to goodness ramblin' man!
Just like a rock star on TV. but even a simple roadie would've done
the job for yours truly."
"Luckily, my ma' pounded some sense into me soon enough. Showed me the
importance of a proper education. It's not about goin' to school, it's
about STAYING in school when the going get's tough! And toughed it out
I did, until I got my diploma, until I got my job and until I could
get my life in order. The pay wasn't spectacular, but I can say in
earnest that I didn't waste my life away living in squalor like a
talentless bum."
"And yet... My life wasn't complete. I buried my dreams deep inside
because one day, I knew I'd have my opportunity to roam this world and
meet it's people. I discovered professional wrestling and became
intrigued: like being a rock star, but with more guitar smashin' and
the smashin' of various other objects! I was always a big boy so I
figured entering the wrestlin' business would be a snap... But then
they put me through something called "wrestling school" and in all due
honesty; yours truly got a bit puzzled by the concept of the whole
thing."
[The big burly Freebear, having told his story, turns back to face the camera.]
"The rest of the story you've heard already: Freebear looks at another
guy do a moonsault, does a moonsault himself and thus finds himself a
career as a high-flyer. I fly across the world just as I fly across
the ring. I work in the Mid-South, I work in prison reality TV
programs and now I work in DCWL!"
"By now this ramblin' bear done flown 'cross most of these United
States and soon enough you'll be seein' the American Freebear in South
Dakota! BIG eight man tag match at Black Hole Brew, almost as big as
the almighty Freebear himself! I'm gonna smash some faces in, I'm
gonna maul whatever fool what get's in my face but most importantly;
Freebear s'gotta fly!"
[With that, the veneer of peacability is gone, replaced by the
ferociousness known of the American Freebear!! Arms flailing, mouth
roaring... Why even his beard seems to gain a life of his own!]
"I don't know who I got against me, but I know they're in for a
beatin'!!! No I mean it: who's Mike Anderson? Who's that Drake guy?
Emshamo??? What kind of name is that? Logan? Is he that Sledge guy? He
is??? Why didn't anybody say so??? Listen: bears are on the loose in
the ring and they don't care about what they maul!! I got a cow, a 7
foot tall ex-basketball player and... Max Turbo with me!"
[But throughout all the promises of destruction and carnage, the
Freebear lets out a wink.]
"But you know, I'd never have met any of these guys if I didn't start flyin'!"
[Fade out.]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Fade in:
Blaze Crimson stands before the DCWL set as she adjusts her microphone and fixes her hair.
Blaze Crimson: Ladies and gentlemen, I'm standing outside the dressing room of one of DCWL's newest signees, the infamous Sierra Browne. She's just moments away from a Women's championship match with Gabrielle RioPaah. Will the irrepressible superstar win gold in just her second DCWL match?
[Unbeknownst to our intrepid reporter as she was making her introduction the dressing room door of Sierra Browne opens and the 5'11 greyhound of a wrestler walks up behind Crimson. Her expression is slightly incredulous.]
Sierra: So this is what I can expect out of DCWL?
[Blaze jumps with a start before she turns to face the contender to the Sirens Championship.]
Blaze: I'm sorry?
Sierra: You're the best they have around here? You're what they send to get my thoughts and opinions?
[The camera is torn between Sierra's sneering expression and her bulging biceps and shredded shoulders. The Truth is a genetic marvel. She has no ounce of fat on her body. The oil on her dark chocolate skin makes each well-defined muscle shine.]
Sierra: Understand something whoever you are, I will no longer tolerate the disrespect to the position that a woman such as I holds in this industry. I've taken my time and kept my mouth shut while you all go about the business of trying to look relevant. I've watched the forays of the SPW wrestlers and the antics of the DCWL and I can see why this promotion hasn't yet reached greatness. You need talent who understands the responsibility of greatness, lady. The wrestlers round here all seem to be desperate to get to a level over their heads. And in case you're wondering that's my level.
[Blaze Crimson opens her mouth to speak and Sierra cuts her off.]
Sierra: If you want to know my opinion of Gabrielle RioPaah it's very simple. I don't have one. I don't need one. I don't have to love her. I don't have to know whatshe's about. I don't have to care two bits about any of her opinions. I'll simply tell you this. I am better than she is. I am the superior wrestler. I am the better representative of the DCWL. I have more drive hunger and desire than she does. It's a very simple equation, woman. I am the woman who will go to any lengths, make any sacrifice, do anything to fulfil my one quest ... championship gold. That, woman, is the only thing that means anything to me. Sierra Browne not being a champion is something that I hate. I hate to see another woman wearing _my_ belt because they feel that they are better than me. They feel that they've done something. I've been doing this too long. I've been working too hard and too long for some woman named Gabrielle RioPaah to keep me from the only thing that makes me happy in this world. So, lady, you want the scoop on what Sierra Browne is thinking? I'll tell you. I'm going out there to see, to go and to conquer. I'm going to go out there and take the Sirens Championship and make myself happy. And I don't give a damn if it kills somebody. That's the Truth..
[With that she shoulders Blaze Crimson aside and heads towards the ring. Blaze looks at her incredulously. There is a pause before Sierra Browne comes back into frame.]
Sierra: And the only other thing that makes me happy is Black Hole Brew. It really takes the edge off.
[Again she looks at Blaze with disgust.]
Sierra: That's how a professional does it.
[And with that the maybe future champ is gone.
Fade out]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Killa 187 on da soundstage!]
Killa: WHAT UP, G'S?? DA KILLA IN DA HOWZ! DA NEW MAIN STREET KILLAS IN DA HOWZ! DEY HAS CAN CHEEZBURGER, WAT WAT???
[Into shot runs Ert William.]
Ert: YOU ATE MY CHEESEBURGER??!?!? DIE!!!!
Killa: AHHHHHH!!!
[Killa runs away in terror. Ert chases after him.]
Ert: YOU OWE ME A TRIP TO WENDY'S!
[Ace Stevens walks into shot.]
Ace: Here we go again. We were supposed to cut some kinda promo here but, well, we've won so many tag team titles without trying: why start now? So, instead, here's Mr. Paul Anka!
===
[A video of a 1960's beer commercial. Yellow soundstage with giant letters spelling "Molson Canadian" and the famous Canadian Crooner.]
Paul Anka:
#Molson Canadian! The lager beer that's bright and clear!
#Molson Canadian! Brewed by men who know their beer!
#Molson Canadian! Lager beer!
#Cause when you'v got a thirst for a beverage bright and clear,
#Drink Molson Canadian!
*wink*
#Lager beer!
===
[Now Necro Bartender is on the soundstage.]
James: Unique Element has a horseshoe up their asses, and I'm going to pull it out and beat them over the head with it! Then I'm going to drink a Molson Canadian. That's right: a Canadian! Black Hole Brew don't pay me nothin'! Then I'm gonna go celebrate with friends and - maybe - get on top of my wife!
[Into the frame walks Ace]
Ace: Whoa, James! That's timely!
James: Then I'm gonna get a rare intestinal disease, have surgery and never fight again!
Ace: EXTRA timely!
James: Actually, Ace, I'm in for additional diagnosis next week.
Ace: That's alright. I have the ladder on speed dial.
[End.]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Scene opens inside a dimly light bar in Akron, Ohio. The place is almost vacant, a few guys shooting pool. Sledge is sitting by himself at the bar. His left hand clenching a beer, his right hand is under his chin, supporting his head. He stares off into nothing. The bartender walks up to him.]
BARTENDER: What's wrong man?
[Sledge just shrugs his shoulders.]
BARTENDER: Man, you should be on top of the world. You landed a new wrestling gig. You won your first match. You should be out living it up, but instead your in this shit hole, drinking by yourself. You need to cheer up sunshine.
[The bartender reaches over and pinches his cheek. Sledge slaps his hand away, kicks out his stool and clenches his fist.]
SLEDGE: Piss off Dave!
DAVE: Calm down little brother…calm down. Just sit back down and keep drinking your beer. You need to get over this big brother-little brother bullshit.
[Sledge stares a hole through Dave as he pulls his stool back up to the bar and sits down.]
DAVE: Seriously, what's the problem?
SLEDGE: I don't know man…guess I'm just disappointed. I didn't look that good in the ring against Alton West. I just squeaked out a win. I should have dominated that guy. I need to make a good impression. The fact that I'm a former world champion doesn't mean anything here. I'm starting all over again at the bottom.
DAVE: Yeah, but you got the win. Isn't that good enough?
SLEDGE: No. I need to do more than just win. If I want to rise to the top of the DCWL, I need to do a lot more. I need to leave an impression.
DAVE: Well, you'll have your chance next week. You're going to Sioux City, right?
SLEDGE: Yeah, I'm booked in that eight man tag match. Should be interesting, I have wrestled in a tag match for quite some years. And I'll be facing some big dudes…Mad Cow, American Freebear, The Big Nasty…those guys make me look like a midget. But Anderson is a good wrestler and so is Ozzie. I don't know much about this Drake Tungsten guy, but it should be a interesting match.
DAVE: I heard you got your team set for the Ark of Triocalypse Tournament.
SLEDGE: Yup, Caleb Brantseg and Gabrielle RioPaah. I've never seen Caleb wrestle, but I know RioPaah is one tough lady.
DAVE: There you go man, cheering up already. You ready for another beer?
SLEDGE: Yeah, why not.
DAVE: Another Coors?
SLEDGE: Nah, let me try on of them Black Hole Brews, I heard they are pretty damn good.
DAVE: Black Hole Brew it is.
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[The scene opens up with a big party with over fifty guests dancing and gyrating to a mix of techno-rock which the DJ was generously pumping out via the standard sound table and massive amplifier/speaker combination. In the midst of this party, one young man looks to his buddy, who apparently is the host of the party.]
Host's Buddy- Hey man, what do you have to drink here?
[...His buddy grabs a bottle of Budweiser and passes it to him...]
Host- Bud....
[...The DJ's record scratches loudly and the whole party screeches to a halt. There is dead silence as everyone eyeballs the Host with a venomous glare. Suddenly a taped fist reaches onto the screen, grabbing the bottle and shattering it with a powerful flex of finger muscles. Stepping into the scene is none other than DCWL's very own Leon Corella, decked out in a black T-Shirt sporting a green DCWL Logo, hand and wrist tape, and blue jeans, carrying a 24 pack of Black Hole Brew...]
Corella- That's not a Beer!
[...Leon then reaches into an opening in the 24 pack, producing a can of the brew. He pops the top with a push of his finger and shoves it into the Host's hand..]
....THIS is a Beer!
[...The Host drinks a huge gulp from the can of Black Hole Brew, and his eyes go wide...]
Host- Oh my god... This is Awesome!
[...Leon shoots off a megawatt smile and begins passing out the brew. The Party resumes it's manic pace as everyone then proceeds to chug away can after can of Black Hole Brew. The scene cuts to Leon, now holding up a can himself to the camera...]
Corella- ....Black Hole Brew, Premium Draft...
[...He then pops the top, whips his head back, and downs the entire can as if he were an Olympic caliber drinker. Pulling the can away, Leon lets out a long, satisfied exhale and slowly looks back to the camera...]
...If you want great taste and an even greater party, drink Black Hole Brew, Premium Draft. Not only will it quench your thirst...
[...Suddenly two impossibly sexy, Bikini clad women stepped up on either side of Corella. One a Blonde, the other a Redhead. He casts them both a wry glance, then breaks into a devilish grin...]
...but it will make you the life of the party...
[...The ladies hook their arms with his, and together they step off into the crowd to join in the festitives. The scene then loses all focus as a Black Hole Brew graphic pops in. The scene then fades to black...]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Open without fade to Mina "The Vamp" Eyre. Her face looks a little paler than normal. She smiles a toothy smile, revealing a pair of fangs. In her hands, as if she were a model on the Price is Right, is a bottle of Black Hole Brew's Golden Brown. When Mina speaks, it's in the world's worst Hungarian accent.]
EYRE [as Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle]: Drink Black Hole Brew's Golden Brown, dahlink. It has a texture so smooth it is...
[She takes a sip. She immediately looks surprised and worried.]
EYRE: ...like the sun?
[Eyre is enveloped in a cloud of smoke. Here, the video pauses. We turn to see the director going over the footage, nodding his head with approval. Some fifteen feet behind him, we see The Vamp on her cell phone, talking low, but not low enough to hide her emotions.]
EYRE: Goddamn beer heads. What the fuck do they know about wrestling, anyway, if they're asking us to do this shit? I don't need this this week.
[A pause.]
EYRE: Well let's think. There are only two women with pinfall wins in the entirety of the DCWL Sirens Division, and only one of them is fighting to be crowned the first champion.
[Another pause.]
EYRE: Well, yeah, Browne's great and all, but we all know the real match is between be and her. Besides, Sierra Browne didn't have a match with a bunch of Samoans who didn't realize crotch shots don't work the same way on women as they do on men. I couldn't...alright, alright, no details. Geez. Anyway, it's bad enough I get passed over for that, just after Horrorshow gets passed by the freaking Killas for the Trios shot, but I have to put on the fucking fangs for some lowlife beer company just because they're sponsoring our team. Yeah, well fuck you very much.
[Another pause, followed by a sigh.]
EYRE: No, I don't want them to cut our sponsorship. Yes, I'm sure their beer is well liked in this part of the country. All I'm saying is that I don't know that degrading us is going to sell them any extra beers.
[The makeup lady passes by.]
MUL: Good work, Miss Eyre.
[She keeps walking. Mina watches her leave for a moment, lost in thought.]
EYRE: Well, at least they got my name right. So what was that you were saying?
[Fade out.]
_____________________________________________________________________
[Open to Wolf Masterson, in his jean jacket and aviator sunglasses. He, too, is holding Black Hole's Golden Wheat. He speaks with a wide smile on his face.]
WOLF: AWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! For a howlin' good time, Golden Wheat is the only beer for me! Texture like the sun...only the best, for a Wolf like me.
[Fade out.]
[Fade in to just outside of Horrorshow's dressing room. The door opens, with "Something Better" Wolf Masterson stepping out into the hallway.]
VOICE: Hey!
[Jogging up to him is his tag partner, Mina Eyre. Wolf shakes his head at the sight.]
WOLF: Oh God, what now?
[Mina looks mildly affronted.]
EYRE: Nothing, just wanted to get you so we can catch Joe's spot in a bit. Show some support for the oppression we're exeperiencing and everything. I'm just amazed you got out so quickly. I thought it'd take ages to get all that fur off you.
[Wolf cocks an eyebrow.]
WOLF: Fur? I didn't even have to change. I just dropped in to drain one of those bottled waters they gave us.
EYRE: Wait, what? I thought Black Hole wanted us to do our horror gimmicks!
WOLF: They did...they just said I could howl and that was enough.
[Mina shakes her head.]
EYRE: I don't believe this. I bit my tongue five times with those goddamn fake fangs, and Joe's spent the last five minutes obsessing over the right combination of flour and baby powder. YOU, of all people, get to don normal clothes and just howl. What. The. Fuck.
WOLF: Hey, come on, I'm a star on the rise, baby. They want this face for marketing, and that's just what they'll get. No need for the bells and whistles when I'll sell beer without them. They're just hoping my fan base comes through.
EYRE: You'd need a fan base first.
VOICE: Excuse me...
[They both turn towards a twelve year old boy, wearing an old red and black "Best of the Best" T-shirt.]
BOY: Mister Masterson, can I have your autograph?
[Mina shakes her head and laughs.]
EYRE: Wow, Wolf, how much did you pay the kid?
[Masterson looks hurt.]
WOLF: What? He's one of my adoring fans.
[He holds out his hand. The kid gives him a pen and notepad. Wolf leans on the wall, filling the pad page with his wild signature.]
WOLF: You want to sign too?
EYRE: Sure, I always wanted my name on eBay.
WOLF: Always so cynical.
[He hands both back to the kid. He looks over at Mina, who stands there with her arms folded.]
BOY: Thanks! Can I get my picture taken too?
WOLF: Of course! Uhh, let's see...YOU!
[We see the director of the commercial turning, behind Mina, then looking around to see if there was anyone else Wolf could have been shouting at. There isn't.]
WOLF: Could you take a picture of the three of us?
EYRE: What?
DIRECTOR: Okay.
]The three pose for a picture. The kid gets his camera back. The director walks off screen.]
BOY: Wow! I got my picture taken with Wolf Masterson! My friends won't even believe me!
EYRE: Alright, well enjoy it. It was nice meeting you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go see if Joe's covered the set in snow yet.
[Wolf and the boy wait and watch her leave. Once they're satisfied she's out of range, Wolf slips the kid a bill of some kind.]
WOLF: Don't spend it all on one place, alright? Thanks for helping me out.
BOY: Oh, no problem Wolf.
[The two shake hands. The kid takes a few steps away, then turns back.]
BOY: You know, you are actually pretty good in the ring. I'm more of a Maurice Thompson fan, but you're pretty cool too.
[The kid walks off, with Wolf unable to share his big smile with anyone. Fade out.]
[Open without fade right to The Deadman, Joe Pansac. Wearing his customary gray flannel shirt and black t-shirt, we also see that he's covered in a thick layer of white powder. He holds a beer bottle up in front of the camera, with the Black Hole Brew label clearly shown. When Joe speaks, it's in his warbly, gravelly zombie voice.]
PANSAC: Black Hole Brew...GOOOOOOOD! People who don't drink Black Hole with the Deadman...BAAAAAAAAAD! People who don't like Black Hole have no BRRRRRRAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIINNNNNNNSSSSSSS!
[Joe puts the bottle to his lips and turns the bottle upside-down. He holds this pose for a good ten seconds before turning it right side up. The bottle's about half empty.]
PANSAC: Drink BLACK HOLE BREW, the CHOICE of the DEADMAN!
VOICE: Cut!
[The camera backs away to show the scene unwinding. Joe places the rest of the beer down on a nearby table. A man in his mid twenties walks over to Pansac. From his voice, we can tell it's the same man who just cut the scene.]
DIRECTOR: Great job, Mister Pansac. Really loved your intensity there.
[The Deadman shrugs, gesturing for a towel from one of the PAs. From somewhere off camera, a towel comes flying in to meet his request. He immediately begins rubbing the excess powder off his face, hair, and shirt.]
DIRECTOR: Actually, I was wondering if we could do one more....you know, really have you lay into that brains line.
[Joe finishes his initial patdown, then looks at the director with a wry smile.]
PANSAC: What's your name?
DIRECTOR: Jeremy...
PANSAC: Listen, Jeremy, I understand the game here. We want to be in the tournament, we need to play nice with Black Hole. They sponsor us on the condition that we do the commercial their way. I do it because this could be my last big chance, because Mina and Wolf have never had this chance before. But a second take was never part of the deal.
JEREMY: I know, but...
[Joe's already walking to an area off set where there are a few chairs set up. He motions for Jeremy to follow him, to continue talking. The director looks hesitant, but he moves purposefully towards the area where the Deadman is seated, waiting for him. Jeremy takes a seat in the chair facing him.]
JEREMY: I know, but it's important to the company that we get this right.
PANSAC: I understand, Jeremy. You want to do a good job, so maybe you land a better directing job and don't have to do commercials anymore, right? Well I'm doing the same thing. I paid my dues so I didn't have to put on the powder anymore, so I could articulate like a normal human being. We, Horrorshow, are finally getting somewhere. We haven't been beaten in the DCWL. We beat one of the two best teams in the DCWL at the last show and might be going against the other real soon. The point is, we worked to put ourselves in a better situation specifically so we'd never have to go back to these horrible gimmicks again. Like I said, I'll don the flour and say your phrases, because you've got to sometimes to move ahead. But just like you don't want to be known as "Jeremy the Commercial Director," I don't want to be known as "The Guy Who Says 'BRAAAAIINNNSS.'"
[Jeremy thinks about this for a moment.]
JEREMY: Alright...I think they'll be happy with that last take. Thanks for coming out and doing this, Mister Pansac.
[Both men stand and shake hands.]
PANSAC: Please, call me Joe. And good luck to you, Jeremy.
[Pansac walks out of the frame, leaving only Jeremy the Director. He smiles and shakes his head, looking down at the hand he just used to shake. He wipes his hand on his opposite shoulder, coating the black sleeve with white flour. With this, we fade out.]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[We open inside of an elaborate office building in downtown New York City, Cassandra Whitmore sits on the edge of a desk in her usual black suit. Doug Foster stands in front of her wearing his yellow, "Your Questions Answered" shirt along with blue jeans. His arms are crossed, not looking too pleased. Cassandra remains her usual calm and relaxed self.]
CW: You're probably wondering why I called you all the way to New York...
DF: That...
[Cassandra interrupts him, lifting her right hand.]
CW: I know...and why I decided to accept a match between you and Brian Irwin at Drink Black Hole Brew.
DF: Exactly...
CW: Lets start with the ladder, why not wrestle Brian Irwin? He hasn't accomplished anything in the States, he's of no worry to either of us. We should move to show your dominance to the DCWL community. Our plan is coming together well, and you're happy with your paychecks from Kennedy and Associates aren't you?
[Foster smirks.]
DF: Definitely...
CW: Good, that brings us to why I asked you here. I'm against the use of these things, but your avid use of them can be used to our benefit.
[Cassandra stands up from the desk, she walks behind it and picks up a chair. She presents it to Foster, it's outlined in red while the rest is painted yellow. "Chairman Of Pain" is wrote in red on the seat of the chair, while a large red question mark is on the opposite side. She hands it to Foster before taking her seat back on the desk.]
CW: Chairman Of Pain seems to be a good moniker for you as well, I had ten of these made with different patterns and what not. Consider it a gift for the great work you're doing.
[Foster smiles after looking over the chair.]
DF: I know the perfect use for this...
CW: I was thinking you would...
DF: I appreciate it Cassandra.
CW: You're welcome, now to the other reason I brought you here...
[Cassandra leans back, pressing a button on her office phone.]
CW: Send them in Ceila...
Ceila: Right Away...
[A few seconds later, three individuals walk into the room wearing black suits. The first is around 5'10'' 180 pounds, the second looks to be 6'3'' 260 pounds, while the last is a towering 6'9'' around 300 pound individual. Foster turns in their direction, looking them over.]
CW: These are Lee Woo Hae, Julio Suarez, and Waltraud Mezger...These will be your personal Security Detail. After the threats made by Leon Corella, we at Kennedy and Associates wanted to make sure we keep our new high valued employee safe... Lee Woo Hae is from South Korea and an 8th degree black belt in Taekwondo, Julio Suarez is a body builder from Argentina, and Waltraud Mezger is one of the most famous wrestlers from Germany.
[Foster smirks.]
DF: I'm enjoying being back with Kennedy and Associates, you know how to show an employee respect.
CW: Just doing great work, the perks will continue to be here.
DF: Don't worry, step three will be taken care of without a problem.
CW: That's what I like to hear.
[Fade To Black.]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[We open to a plane DCWL backdrop, the camera pans downward to show the members of Unique Element standing with serious looks on their faces. Each have a third of the DCWL Trio Championships over their shoulder, Unique Element shirts cover their chest. Without wasting much time they begin speaking.]
Gabe: A family will always stick together, a family will not allow one of there's to feel like they are alone, a family will go through trials and tribulations together, a family will never turn their backs on each other. A family will stand together or they will fall together.
Aaron: Maurice Thompson is apart of our family, Navarro and Cold Blood trained all four of us at Vision Quest. That gives us a tight bond that will last the rest of our lives, when someone hurts Maurice or decides to do him an injustice it bothers the three of us. We didn't know what he was going to do to Beckson, he kept that from us. He probably wanted to keep us from facing a punishment like the one that is being forced on him. Navarro and Cold Blood taught us in the traditional ways of wrestling, and to respect our opponents, but in this case we support him completely. Beckson had it coming...
Danny: We were suppose to do a little promotion for Black Hole Brew, but as a protest we will not. I imagine Kevin Alloy will try to take away the titles we worked hard to earn, and if that's the case, we will have to live with it. We will not stand by idly and watch Maurice have to fight with the DCWL front office alone. That's not what a family does.
[Gabe nods his head.]
Gabe: If you want the titles from us, you're going to have to pry them from our dead fingers. Much like the New Main Street Killaz are going to find out. We won't let something we worked so hard for simply slip away, Unique Element plans on having a long reign as the DCWL Trios Champions. We are the best team the DCWL has to offer, and we will prove that in the Ark Of The Triocalypse. Each and every team the DCWL has to put in front of us will be defeated.
Aaron: The time has come that we prove ourselves to the wrestling world, no longer will we be bullied around, no longer will we watch Maurice be bullied, no longer will we not have the respect we deserve. Danny and I dealt with that every night we were in that "other" promotion that felt we weren't one of the, "boys" so they decided to hold us back. This is the time where Unique Element proves its worth.
[Danny steps forward.]
Danny: This goes directly to the DCWL Grand Champion, I don't care where it is, even if it's at the DCWL Training Center, at The Year We Make Contact, or anywhere else. You and I will meet in the ring, and I just may end up snapping your ankle.
[Fade.]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[We open to intense stare of Mike Anderson. The undefeated rookie doesn't look to be in a very good mood. He clenches his teeth and closes his eyes in concentration as we finally see why as the camera pans back. Anderson has some poor hapless bum in a cross face chicken wing. The wrestler immediately screams out in pain and taps the mat frantically. Anderson holds it a few more seconds then releases, the mans face smacking off the canvas in pure defeat. Anderson stands as one of his trainers throws him the traditional white towel. He wipes the perspiration from his face then stares at the camera, a cocky grin dancing on his lips.]
MA: See Marcus Davis [points at the still fallen jabroni] that is how you apply a submission move. I told everyone you were nothing but smoke and mirrors. I told everyone that when it came right down to the wire, you couldn't hang with me. You not only had me in your little submission once [holds up two fingers] but twice and you still couldn't get the job done. You tried every move in your arsenal but in the end your ignorance cost you the match.
No matter how much you whine and cry that you were wronged, every time they look in the record book it will say I, Mike Anderson, pinned Marcus Davis in their first ever encounter. I didn't get lucky Marcus, I had a game plan and it worked to perfection. I knew your ego wouldn't be satisfied with just pinning me, no, you would have to try and make a statement. You would have to try and make an impact. Well you got one Marcus , ME , pinning YOU for the one, two, three!! I'm done with you Marcus. I proved who the better man was. Go wrestle the Mario Speedbags of the World punk, cause I proved you don't hold a candle to me.
[ Anderson wipes the sweat from his brow. He takes a small sip of water then gives us his attention again.]
MA: Now onto more important things. This coming card. Thanks to our sponsor 'Black Hole Brew- The one that goes right through you.' I must step into the ring and carry three other men to victory in an eight man tag match. On my team, some guys named Logan Braddock, Ozzie Emshamo and Drake Tungsten. I'm not going to pretend I'm happy about this. I'm not going to stand in front of everyone and play nice. I'm gonna lay out on the line for you three. Mike Anderson came here to win. That's what I do. I climb into the ring and defeat whatever and whoever is put in front of me. The Big Nasty [shrugs] I've beaten bigger. American Freebear, just another over hyped chump like Marcus Davis. Max Turbo [smirks] I already showed the World what I can do to him and finally some moron dressed like a cow.
If it was just me one on one against ANY of you, I would put you down for the count. But seeing that I have to carry three idiots to victory, I feel as though I'm in a handicap match. But it doesn't matter. Just like the greats before me, I will rise to the occasion and lead my team to victory because that is what winners do.
My three team mates for this match [sneers] you don't have to thank me.
It was my pleasure.
[FTB]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Fade in to Derrick L. Ford, standing in his three piece suit and white stetson in front of the DCWL logo. He clutches the Dangerous Championship draped over his shoulder, as if afraid it's about to fall off. With a hard smirk on his face, he addresses the camera.]
FORD: DCWL, your long national nightmare is over! For the first time since the second ever show, you have a Dangerous Champion that you can be proud of. I know, I know, you were starting to get worried. A man who walked right out of a Blaxploitation film, a living, breathing third tier cartoon hero, and the biggest embarrassment to the DCWL since Buster Brown. This belt should have never left my side, should never have gone on the Tour de Suck that caused the Dangerous Championship to be regarded as slightly higher than toilet paper. I saved the integrity of this belt, the integrity of this very COMPANY, from being a total and utter laughing stock. So, DCWL, I say to you...you're welcome.
[He shakes his head.]
FORD: Of course, I also saved this belt from the wretched fate of being held by the American Freebear. Hey, Freebear, congratulations for showing up and displaying competence. Really, a nice change of pace for me as far as Dangerous Championship opponents go. Still, one of us is clearly championship material. One of us has the look...
[Ford preens, showing off his rings and winning smile.]
FORD: ...the pedigree, and the class to be a true representative champion. One of us had what it took...and promptly took the title. No little post-match hissy fit is going to change the fact that the best man won at "Death of a Ladies Man." But, hey, if you still haven't learned your place here I'll be happy to show you right where it is. Just hope you have your gear ready for when Bear Force One goes down.
[A chuckle.]
FORD: Now some of you will tell me to focus on Mario Speedwagon first, or else I won't get to face the Bear at Triocalypse. After careful deliberation, I've determined that the most appropriate response is..."So?" Speedwagon is no threat to me. Hell, he's less than no threat. His fluke "victory" was when he danced around the ring for fifteen minutes until the time expired. THAT'S your great champion? Please. Alloy did him a favor by stripping him of the title...the fans would have rushed the ring and killed him on the spot for being such a cowardly champion.
[The smirk drops as the camera zooms in.]
FORD: That's right, you filthy hippy, I called you a coward. I'm still the supercharged Mustang ready to run your Ford hating ass over. And this time, running away isn't going to do a damn bit of good. You want to win? You're going to have to come after me. But don't worry, Mario. When it's all over, after I've smoked you like yesterday's hash, you can go home, put on the Wizard of Oz, match up the Pink Floyd album to the start of the movie, and get real cozy with ol' Mary Jane. Just promise me - after this, you leave the championships to the real men of this fed. At Black Hole Brew, you'll find out that there is no room for cowards during the ERA of DERRICK! L! FORD!
[Fade out.]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
#Enter#
#Thursday, November 12, 2009 2:12 CDT#
[After all...Maurice Thompson has been through a great deal since he last stepped foot in a DCWL ring. From being fined $1,000 by the astute, "Deputy Commissioner" Kevin Alloy for his actions against the DCWL Grand Champion, Julian Beckson. Insiders deeply entrenched within the wrestling community applauded Thompson's actions against the often controversial champion. Unfortunately, those within DCWL felt his, "lashing" provided a message to new DCWL fans that would turn them away from the product.]
[....]
[Those are my thoughts exactly, everywhere Maurice has turned he has received support and adulation, except from those that have hardly done anything except for slap a confirmed racial bigot on the wrist for his narrow minded views, hateful rhetoric, and speech that will do nothing more than taint the minds of America's youth with visions of violence and the destruction of their fellow human. Based on what you ask? The subtle difference of skin color, nationality, or religion. What have millions of American soldiers fought and died for if at the end of the day...]
[We Allow Hate To Poison Our Minds And Darken Our Hearts?]
[A lesser individual would have already walked away from a promotion that shows such little support for common humanity? Should the wicked be able to escape without even the slightest retribution being exacted against them? Should the mainstream be forced to listen to their moral values be tarnished by a few idealistic racists? Should people have to live in fear of having protests in their neighborhoods, their friends, family, children being attacked in an alley, without any witnesses to report the crime? Why do the pure of heart have to go without…]
[Justice?]
[All are questions that should be asked in society, especially after the punishment Kevin Alloy enacted on Maurice Thompson. Alas…We are forgetting a few major aspects of the previously noted punishment. Not only did Alloy attempt to fine the young Thompson, he also took away any Grand Championship title considerations from him in the immediate future. That isn't all, to further harm Thompson he booked him to face Eric Quinney and John Blackstock from Complete Control in a sanctioned Handicap match.]
[Now That Does Send A Message.]
[Reported hundreds of fans, reporters, and onlookers have called the office of Kevin Alloy with complaints of this punishment against Maurice Thompson, while only, "rumored" punishments and a insincere public apology have been pressed against Julian Beckson. Truly, the will of those watching the DCWL have been made clear. Yet, the front office remains steadfast in their claims that Maurice Thompson needs to be held accountable for his actions. They believe Maurice Thompson has done more to hurt the product of DCWL than Julian Beckson. The front office has progressed this issue in order to make an example out of Maurice Thompson. In their eyes, Maurice Thompson's actions, "…Confirms to him that he's right about something everyone knows he's about." The official quote asks you to pretend that Beckson wasn't the one being attacked.]
[That's The _Entire_ Point.]
[None of this would have occurred if it wasn't for Julian Beckson, the DCWL wouldn't have the eyes of many Civil Rights Organizations glued onto their every statement if it wasn't for Beckson. The fans of DCWL would not be made to feel uncomfortable to fill arenas to watch their loved wrestling product, they would not spew so much venom on message boards, they would not threaten to stop buying DVD's, coming to shows, or even read results from the DCWL…if it was not for Julian Beckson. Allow me to ask you…]
[Has Maurice Thompson Done More Harm Than Julian Beckson?]
[This brings us to our current date and time, we are in the middle of a field at the Phoenix Lodge Apartment Complex. Maurice Thompson stands behind a four foot cylinder trash can, leaning to the side is a dark blue Nautica back pack, on the other side leans a brown paper bag, all contents unknown to anyone except Maurice. Maurice himself is wearing a pair of blue jeans and black collard shirt. A stern looks is across his face, he stands in defiance, seemingly daring anyone to confront him about what is to take place. A simple nod towards the camera informs the crew and the viewers that he is ready to proceed.]
Thompson: I do not stand here today the same Maurice Thompson I was three months ago, I am not even the same man I was two weeks ago. At that time, I could never believe the actions of Kevin Alloy were even conceivable, much less would ever take place. I did not think I would ever be faced with going up against the front office of a wrestling promotion based on principles of simple humanity. Something I felt the wrestling industry would ever be dealt with…
[Maurice licks his lips.]
Thompson: I never thought I would become the face of resistance against the hatred that still exists among civilized society, I didn't think so many people would come to my defense, would keep me motivated, would push me to exceed my potential and prove a point to all of my detractors. Those detractors are very much against the racial and religious melting pot that is the United States Of America…
[Maurice says those words with pride. The bite of the words is meant for those that want to tear at a fabric of the potential of a complete inclusive American society.]
Thompson: Before I explain why I'm standing out in the middle of a field, I would like to address everything Julian Beckson has stated since Kevin Alloy laid down his punishment for my attack against him…
[Maurice runs his hands through his hair, not breaking eye contact with the camera.]
Thompson: I would like to begin with your allegations of never doing anything wrong, which seems to be the attitude of those that share your political beliefs… You've said things, done things, and represent things that would have seen you on the end of being fired in any other company. Most companies realize what having someone like you employed does to their reputation in the community, with that being said, perhaps my actions against you were out of line…
[Maurice shakes his head.]
Thompson: But they weren't…I'll cover why they weren't in a couple of minutes. You rave on and on about me being a coward..about me being _Jealous_ of your success…
[Maurice laughs for a couple of seconds before regaining his composure.]
Thompson: You've barely had any success in what you call a career; therefore, there is nothing about your _Success_ I have to be worried about. Especially, since your life is full of failures. Your failure to have a positive relationship with your father, your failure to connect with the world around you, your failure to admit to your own mistakes. From what I've researched about you, that was the lead to your current political beliefs. You have failed to realize _Your_ own mistakes and short comings. Much like most failures in this world, instead of learning from them and directing the cast of blame towards yourself, you direct it towards others.
[Short Pause.]
Thompson: You have called me a coward, but I have looked in your eyes when you were speaking to Angel…I know she is your one true weakness, despite all of your glaring ignorance. Your eyes glow when you talk to her, everything in your world turns to gold, you have a feeling of peace and tranquility come over you, she makes you….
_Happy._
Thompson: Instead of listening to the reasons why she never wants to speak to you again, you withdraw from the one person that probably ever showed you any love and you cast the blame on others. This to me shows your true cowardice, and the fact you never even had the capability of actually loving her. Julian Beckson, you are the biggest coward of them all. It's obvious why she wants nothing to do with you, instead of confronting the situation, you run and you've been running for a long time now. When are you going to stop? When are you going to face the fact, that your one love…
Doesn't _Love_ Who You Have Become?
[Thompson's eyes narrow as he continues glaring into the camera.]
Thompson: You also threatened me with legal action due to my attack on you…I dare you to move forward with your threat. Might of fact, I _Want_ you to move forward with that threat. There is nothing that would make me happier than you taking me to court for what I have done to you….
Why?
[Thompson pauses once more.]
Thompson: …Because…I will _Never_ pay the fine Kevin Alloy has placed on me. I will not accept the payment of anyone else paying the fine, I won't even consider for one moment placing my name on any check going to the DCWL front office. So the ball is in your court Beckson, or will I make you into a liar? I'm going to stand my ground, I think you should as well.
Moving On…
Thompson: Kevin Alloy, I'm still waiting for your response. Are you going to be a man and wrestle me yourself? You seem to feel so convicted by your statements, that I have done the DCWL bad by making Julian Beckson suffer through some pain. In your mind, you're doing your job, you are making sure the integrity of DCWL is held in high regard. Unfortunately, you have done more damage to the DCWL. Your staff left me voice mails, trying to point out to me that you have fined Beckon the same amount that you are currently trying to get me to pay…Yet, when I look at the records…I find no indication of any money transaction. Not only that, you feel justified in taking away any current opportunity for me to face Beckson in the ring for the Grand Championship, and you try to place me in a match against Complete Control.
[A small smirk comes across Thompson's face.]
Thompson: Take away my match, I'll earn it back…Instead of stepping up to the plate you attempt to put Complete Control in the middle of this situation. That to me proves that you can't even stand behind your own actions. What are you worried about? Proving the hundreds of people that called your office, sent you e-mails, the thousands that posted on message boards, that feel you are protecting Beckson…Correct? Is that your fear? Give me a break Alloy….
[Maurice pauses once more, he motions towards the back pack. He pulls out a can, he strategically holds the label away from the camera.]
Thompson: Black Hole Brew is sponsoring the next DCWL show, and the company asked everyone to give a little plug to their wonderful sponsors…
[One could easily hear the sarcasm in Thompson's last statement. He turns the can around.]
Thompson: Instead, I present to you Black Hole Brew's leading competitor, "Irish Fountain." The best tasting brew in the world, they kindly offered me a sponsorship deal for when I turn twenty one. I don't know this from experience…
[..Yeah Right…]
Thompson: But, I've heard that Black Hole Brew is kind of bad..So, there you have it.
[Thompson lays the can down beside the trash can. He pulls the back pack up, resting it against the lid.]
Thompson: The following is probably going to upset every radical organization in America that Julian Beckson ascribes to…The DCWL camera crew that has been assigned to me the past month were watching as I made a few purchases online that really bothered me, as I unfortunately had to give money to a cause that truly bothers me in order to make a greater point. On October 28th, I felt as if I was making a mistake. But, as time has moved on, I've become aware that what I'm about to do is going to send a message of defiance from everyone against racial bigotry. This is when I truly become the figurehead for the movement to remove hatred from American society.
[Short Pause.]
Thompson: To explain, Julian Beckson has named a couple of his signature moves after others who have also made their fame off of spewing racial hatred. Prussian Blue, is a group of two Neo-Nazi teenagers that love singing about how great the world would be if we all looked a like…Such a fitting name for one of Beckson's most powerful moves.
[Maurice pulls three CD's out of his bag with his left hand. A look of disdain comes over his face.]
Thompson: These are all the works by Prussian Blue, while they have the right to freedom of speech, I also have the right to do the following…Which all of humanity has the right to do with those that attempt to drive a wedge through everything that holds us together…
[Maurice drops the three, unopened CD's into the garbage can. He looks down at them in spite for a brief moment. He reaches back inside of his book bag.]
Thompson: Moving on to the Rahowa…For those of you that were fortunate enough to not know what it stood for, it is an acronym for, "Racial Holy War" which was made famous in a book, compiled to tear at the fabric of what is good and just around the world. To incite hate and destruction in the minds of its followers…
[Maurice pulls a book out of his book bag entitled, "White Man's Bible."]
Thompson: This is a disgrace to "white men" everywhere, and just like Prussian Blue…Is going directly where it belongs…
[Maurice drops the book into the trash can, never looking away from the camera.]
Thompson: Freedom Of Speech goes a long way. If the freedom to speak of hatred and violence against those that don't look like you exists, people like I have the right to speak against hatred, we have the right to bring together people to value each other. We have the opportunity to make a difference in this world. We have the opportunity to make sure that future generations do not have to worry about what race they are or if they will be judged for simply, "looking" different. This is where our struggle for a brighter world begins…and this is a demonstration…
Of how bright our world will shine…
[Maurice reaches into the brown paper bag, pulling out a gasoline can. The following is very predictable at this point, Maurice empties the contents of the can into the trash can. Following, he reaches back down into the bag pulling out a box of matches. He lights the match on the box, before dropping the box back into the bag.]
Thompson: The Future Of The World looks bright. It shall be even brighter when I defeat Julian Beckson…
[Almost immediately following Maurice dropping the match into the trash can, smoke starts billowing from within. The flame starts to grow in height as the camera zooms in on it. Thompson chimes in once more from off camera.]
Thompson: This Is Only The Beginning….
[Fade.]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
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