Post by Delikado on Mar 9, 2014 13:15:51 GMT -4
Previously…
Delikado is pushed into the path of an oncoming bus.
Sofia Monzón is engaged in a vicious hand-to-hand fight with a masked person, eventually kicking them off a roof into the swirling ocean.
The rest of the Deli Tee Vee team is pelted by water balloons in a drive-by ballooing.
Lily Smith: My clothes! NOoOoOoOoOoOoO!!
Delikado: [voice-over] The Black Hand tried to kill us off. Future endeavoring motherfuckers!
Delikado lies in a hospital bed breathing through a tube, as a montage of calendars fall—Men’s Pony Show Addition—to express the passage of time.
We see what looks like Delikado walking down the aisle to the Survive and Conquer.
Delikado: [voice-over]: Code Polka Dot! The Black Hand hired some dude from Home Depot to act like Delikado for the Survive and Conquer! He’s gonna lose on purpose and make Delikado look stupid!
As predicted, the “Delikado lookalike” is eliminated from the Rumble, and we see a montage of people laughing and pointing and posters screaming “Delikado = El Stupido, lulzcatz!” We then cut back to the real Deli lying in his hospital bed, seemingly recovering but still out of action as more calendars fly—Wallets Posing at Landmarks Addition. Next we see Ariel Hassle, Delikado’s girlfriend, giving birth to a baby.
Doctor: It’s a boy!
Delikado: [voice-over] Delikado realizes the Black Hand will try again, and the League is too in shambles to help me claim my revenge.
Sofia looks up as a menacing dark red light hover across her face.
Sofia Monzón: I cannot—I WILL NOT—let these past five years go to waste. Not for him, not for anyone. I swear to you, Shane West…
We see Shane sitting across from Sofia at a strip club.
Sofia: I’ll stand by the winning side. The side that’ll make me immortal.
A message appears on TV saying “APW – President Jeff Conference.
President Jeff: It is my sad duty to confirm that the APW will be shutting its doors. But not before we host the greatest event APW has: Rasslemania X!!
Cue the dramatic music as a 19th century Old West style cop appears.
The Law: The Cuban must be destroyed. Delikado has avoided his true comeuppance for years now, and if he slips under the cracks with APW’s demise, he’ll just find a new company and start the entire goddamn process over again!! The Law *will* triumph.
Now on his feet but bearing some damage still from the bus attack, Delikado slowly lifts a cigar to his mouth.
Delikado: APW may be dead, but on this, the day of their destruction, Jeff’s decided to give Delikado the Black Hand…but only if Kurt Noble is in my corner. It sucks the suck, but it is revenge!
Now Delikado throws a vase as Ron Reynolds narrowly avoids it hitting his head.
Delikado: Fools. FOOLS ALL AROUND ME!!
Ron Reynolds: We slipped. We messed up, Bawse. Someone’s been cutting our connections, our juice.
Sofia slips money to an unknown person, who then promptly is seen elsewhere speaking out against Delikado.
Reynolds: We need to cut a deal, Delikado. You and me. For survival. After all… It’s Deli Tee Vee they want…
Delikado pauses.
Delikado: Fine. But the Black Hand goes down with it.
A door opens and The Law is face-to-face with Delikado.
Delikado: I want a deal. Me and me alone. I’ll give you anyone and everyone in exchange for immunity. Delikado will confess…everything.
Both men sit at a table as the dramatic music builds to a final crescendo and the scene cuts to black.
Narrator: And now…The End….of Delikado.
We fade in to the present now, as Delikado sits opposite The Law looking over the contract granting him immunity for everything he’s done throughout his career—including everything in APW.
The Law: Speak any non-related bits, and we’ll get started.
Delikado: I’m good.
The Law: Alrighty. Camera’s on and recording. Who are you? State your name.
Delikado: Delikado.
The Law: Your REAL name.
Delikado pauses for a very long time, before finally inhaling and exhaling.
Delikado: Hector Nero Maravilloso.
The Law: And you agree with everything you are about to say, and that it is said under your own free will. Do you accept?
….Yes.
The Law: Begin.
……………….Eight years ago, when I was out looking for work, I killed and stole the identity of a small-time Cuban wrestler, Delikado.
The Law: You…You killed him?
Hit him in the head with a manhole cover. Then put his body in a freezer. Then melted the freezer with the body in acid. Dunno why I didn’t just do the melting thing first…but that’s how it gooooes…After that I took on his name, his personality, every little detail. Look…
He licks his thumb and then rubs it on a patch of skin on his throat, eventually wiping away makeup matching his skin and revealing an incredibly small device. He promptly pulls the device off his throat and speaks again, in incredibly broken English with a thick Spanish accent.
Issa trans-y-lator ding-a-ma-bob. Putsa all-y dings I says inna list-ah-nab-leh way, choo no mang? I cannae talk too goods utta-wise.
The Law: W….W-Why? Why’d you do it?
The man puts the device back on his throat and then shrugs.
Because I felt like it. Guess I wanted to see if I could.
The Law: So…So you killed…
I killed “Delikado”, took his entire life, and made it my own for these past eight years simply because I wanted to. That’s the answer to your question. I did it out of boredom. During that time I took on the career of the professional wrestler, and I made my way up the ladder. And I won, for a guy with no prior wrestling background. Hell, no exercise background if you can believe that. I assembled a few partnerships, teammates along the way, Deli Tee Vee, and we did what we wanted. Talked trash, got into some wacky adventures, and took whatever looked good. Hell, even if it was shit, a shit job, we took it just to see what we could reap from it. And sometimes I’d lose on purpose, gave up titles and title shots because there was a bigger, more immediate profit. Insider trading basically. Not to mention good lawyers who knew who to bribe and how. I leveraged more shit than people realize, I manipulated scores of people into believing a lie they thought was reality, in APW and all prior companies. Only one guy knew the truth this entire time, that there is no real Delikado, against the millions upon millions who had the wool pulled over their eyes…and it’s this guy right here, who was pulling that wool.
The Law: You…You suck so bad.
I did it all for personal gain, to help myself, to please myself. Even better than competing in the ring, lying has been my instrument through it all. But since I’m here to tell the whole truth now, I’ll fill you in on another gem that might make your blood run cold, that’ll stop the hearts of all my peers, all my bosses, and all the wrestling fans that have ever even heard of me.
He tilts his head and then looks up to the ceiling before looking down again and continuing.
I…. hate wrestling. I think it’s stupid. I liked it a bit in the beginning, but after that it became solely about seeing what I could do behind the scenes rather than out there with some other guy in front of a crowd. I don’t even think of it as a sport, to be honest. Yeah, guys put it all out there, but it’s really just a circus in my eyes, a performance. People get hurt at circuses all the same as they do in a real sport. That’s probably why I fit in so well, because I was pulling a performance myself. A performance inside a performance. Every title meant nothing, every scene was about playing along, every interview—no matter how in-depth or entertaining it was—was bullshit stacked on top of bullshit, and nobody knew it. Nobody knew I was just making it up as I went along. Not my teammates, not my managers or valets, not my… “friends”. They didn’t know that I was purposely sullying and stealthily badmouthing and intentionally disrespecting their beloved game every time I was on camera. They thought I was a clown, a jester, but the fact is I was making them look like the clowns the entire time as I just smiled, put forth stupid humor, and yelled “LIKE A BAWSE!” in the most obnoxious, repetitive manner I could summon. Some people might’ve suspected I was less than I appeared—or perhaps more, depending on your analysis—guys like AC Smith…I’m sure he knew, but he couldn’t prove it. Mark Mania, Terry Marvin…I think my Overdrive title “win” got them suspicious, but I blended in so well afterwards, made myself appear so little a threat, that it didn’t really matter. Refer to myself in the third person, pretend I had rabies, act like the fucking Pope, nobody will worry or look into that. They’ll just wave me off and look the other way, which unfortunately for them allowed me to survive and continue taking my pleasures as I deemed the pleasurable. For instance, Evan Envi, The League, that was me pulling the strings, goading them on, making them appear in charge and with purpose just so I could “suddenly disappear” and watch them all squirm. For fun. I get off on that, subtly pushing my friends to fail. I cheated them, and everyone else, at every turn. For a guy who was nothing to them…I was still better than them.
The Law: And The Black Hand? Your attack by them? All your talks of “revenge?”
Oh I don’t care about that. Not really. The truth is they didn’t do anything to me. The bus, the other shit...I orchestrated it all to give them material to feast off, or even deny because I knew they would look stupid either way. Though that’s not to say I wouldn’t bash them over the head with manhole covers and melt their bodies down either, given the chance…
The Law: So…..*sigh*….tell me what happened after you took on your….”new life.”
What is today?
The Law: The seventh.
And Rasslemania is…
The Law: It starts the 28th, you’re wrestling or….”performing” on the 30th.
Hmmm…We should have *just* enough time for me to tell you everything then. It IS everything, right?
The Law: Everything you want immunity from. What will save you from shit that will otherwise fry your ass.
Cut to black. We then fade in to some point later in the room.
And Kurt, hah…I had my manager switch out his pain medication with some faulty crap, sugar pills or some shit like that we had specially made. So he took them for his leg injury, the leg injury I gave him, hoping he would get better, but it only hurt him, only made him worse, nearly ruined his life. When he finally cracked and was sent to a clinic, we bought the surveillance footage and sold it for a profit. Promoted it on the Internet as a series, under a different name, and we were able to falsify a connection between the videos and some family out in the Midwest, so they all went to jail for illegally promoting private footage! They’d never even heard of Kurt Noble, haha! Eventually Kurt got better and came back, but he never knew it was me the entire time.
The Law: Why would you do that?
Because it was dramatic and sounded like fun.
The Law: Psychologically torturing someone who could have gotten his hand on real pills and overdosed?
Better him than me. Kurt was always a goody two-shoes, and I say that entirely out of character. If I had the ability to be jealous of “in-ring” legacies, I’d want his, but I stay content with my post. It’s a lot more fun scheming, hustling ignorant morons. And that’s where “The Black Hand” comes in. See, I was really, REALLY bored of all this, of APW, and one day I was eating lunch and I said “Hey, let’s kill APW!”
The Law noticeably cringes, but HE doesn’t care.
So I hatched a plan—THE plan--with my team months ago, last year in fact. A plan that would lead me to the strongest example of how much I could deceive and utterly break APW, in one final showdown. We’d start a faction war that would get people’s juices flowing, but then I’d “mysteriously” vanish to an injury. Then the war ceased, the fed would simmer down, but emotions would turn raw behind the scenes because all that “faction war” stuff would boil with no real direction to go but everywhere. As I predicted, people in APW grew tired and started jumping ship. Top guys, the supposed “best” in APW. Real ugly, personal beefs backstage created more drama, and eventually it wore Jeff down to the point he had no choice but to close down. By that time, The Black Hand’s there, thinking they’re all tough shit, but the truth is I denied them everything they wanted and more. I listened, I watched, I did my homework, and I eventually pointed to them, saying “Those are the best APW has”, only by “best”, I actually meant “worst.” They are how far this company fell. Yet by poisoning APW, I cut off the Black Hand at the wrists. They will never survive elsewhere, and even if they try, it’ll just be a second-hand team, a wishful attempt to live the future I expertly pulled away from them. No matter what some “match” at Rasslemania X shows, I’ve won, and my jollies are got. For that matter, everyone in the company has been all excited at the prospect of my and Noble’s return, to the point I manipulated everything to make us look like the good guys. That we’re righteous.
Righteous…me…the guy who bought an orphan from some Third World country to pose as his daughter in promo shoots. Who has injured men or otherwise devised ways for them to be injured by others in that ring. Who put paint chips in his opponent’s drink beforehand just so they’d squirm. Who forced women to sleep with him—wives, girlfriends, fiancées, anything with a vagina—or forced them to be screwed by someone else. You know, I’ve probably banged over half the women in this company, well over half, but I threatened them to keep it to themselves because I saw more fun in watching them be miserable and suppressed by the fact that they cheated on someone they cared about. I’ve accused or set up innocents to appear as anything but, and stood by in childlike tranquility as they engaged in blood feuds with men or women they otherwise have every reason to befriend. I have made personal comedies out of people losing their ability to walk, of being forced into retirement, of death in their families and social circles. I have burned and run over personal property, and then convinced those same owners to buy more, even in debt, so that I may crush or burn it again down the line. More than once have I dug up the pasts of others, the darkest of secrets, and flaunted them to the entire wrestling world, often twisting the facts or forging entirely new details with such a convincing nature, the men and women believe worse of themselves and their histories than is actually true. In eight years, as Delikado, I have done over one million horrific things, all without batting an eye or a hint of stung conscience, and the only thing that bothers me now is that I am not out and about presently doing a billion more horrific things in wrestling and beyond, for fun and shenanigans.
The Law: I think we—
I’m not done. I refuse to be caught later on by some loophole. You will listen, and try to enjoy yourself. After all, you’re getting the truth. Not to mention every one of my teammates.
The scene fades out again, only to fade in again to an even later point.
Aaaaaand…I do believe that is everything.
The Law: *sigh* You do realize your girlfriend will go to prison, and your son will be put into the foster care system. Your “daughter” will likely be deported, and everyone of Deli Tee Vee you’ve worked with in APW will be incriminated to the point they’ll never be able to work again.
………………………………………………………..Sucks to be them.
The Law: You’re still contractually bound to compete at Rasslemania X. If you no-show or put on anything less than your best performance, you will be seen as ducking out on the duties you’ve signed to for immunity, and we will bring you down with the rest of them. It will “suck” to be YOU.
Fear not, cowpoke. I told you about my Black Hand plan, I want to trounce those motherfuckers, and then I’ll get my paycheck. I can put on the performance one last time so long as I’m free.
The Law: Either way. If you have a change of heart, or try to interfere in the slightest, you will nullify everything, and we will drag you out of APW in CHAINS.
But I am free otherwise…? Because I need to go practice my “curtsey” for the curtains.
The Law: You’re evil is what you are. A monster. Not even a man.
……And I resent being anything less. Now, are we done?
The Law removes his cowboy hat and nods softly. “HE” stands up and fixes his jacket.
The Law: You’ve hurt my view of people, you know. You’ve made it so I’ll never completely be able to trust anyone again.
If we’d met sooner, that would just be the beginning.
Fade.
“Entrepreneurs are simply those who understand that there is little difference between obstacle and opportunity and are able to turn both to their advantage.”
--Niccolo Machiavelli
Delikado is pushed into the path of an oncoming bus.
Sofia Monzón is engaged in a vicious hand-to-hand fight with a masked person, eventually kicking them off a roof into the swirling ocean.
The rest of the Deli Tee Vee team is pelted by water balloons in a drive-by ballooing.
Lily Smith: My clothes! NOoOoOoOoOoOoO!!
Delikado: [voice-over] The Black Hand tried to kill us off. Future endeavoring motherfuckers!
Delikado lies in a hospital bed breathing through a tube, as a montage of calendars fall—Men’s Pony Show Addition—to express the passage of time.
We see what looks like Delikado walking down the aisle to the Survive and Conquer.
Delikado: [voice-over]: Code Polka Dot! The Black Hand hired some dude from Home Depot to act like Delikado for the Survive and Conquer! He’s gonna lose on purpose and make Delikado look stupid!
As predicted, the “Delikado lookalike” is eliminated from the Rumble, and we see a montage of people laughing and pointing and posters screaming “Delikado = El Stupido, lulzcatz!” We then cut back to the real Deli lying in his hospital bed, seemingly recovering but still out of action as more calendars fly—Wallets Posing at Landmarks Addition. Next we see Ariel Hassle, Delikado’s girlfriend, giving birth to a baby.
Doctor: It’s a boy!
Delikado: [voice-over] Delikado realizes the Black Hand will try again, and the League is too in shambles to help me claim my revenge.
Sofia looks up as a menacing dark red light hover across her face.
Sofia Monzón: I cannot—I WILL NOT—let these past five years go to waste. Not for him, not for anyone. I swear to you, Shane West…
We see Shane sitting across from Sofia at a strip club.
Sofia: I’ll stand by the winning side. The side that’ll make me immortal.
A message appears on TV saying “APW – President Jeff Conference.
President Jeff: It is my sad duty to confirm that the APW will be shutting its doors. But not before we host the greatest event APW has: Rasslemania X!!
Cue the dramatic music as a 19th century Old West style cop appears.
The Law: The Cuban must be destroyed. Delikado has avoided his true comeuppance for years now, and if he slips under the cracks with APW’s demise, he’ll just find a new company and start the entire goddamn process over again!! The Law *will* triumph.
Now on his feet but bearing some damage still from the bus attack, Delikado slowly lifts a cigar to his mouth.
Delikado: APW may be dead, but on this, the day of their destruction, Jeff’s decided to give Delikado the Black Hand…but only if Kurt Noble is in my corner. It sucks the suck, but it is revenge!
Now Delikado throws a vase as Ron Reynolds narrowly avoids it hitting his head.
Delikado: Fools. FOOLS ALL AROUND ME!!
Ron Reynolds: We slipped. We messed up, Bawse. Someone’s been cutting our connections, our juice.
Sofia slips money to an unknown person, who then promptly is seen elsewhere speaking out against Delikado.
Reynolds: We need to cut a deal, Delikado. You and me. For survival. After all… It’s Deli Tee Vee they want…
Delikado pauses.
Delikado: Fine. But the Black Hand goes down with it.
A door opens and The Law is face-to-face with Delikado.
Delikado: I want a deal. Me and me alone. I’ll give you anyone and everyone in exchange for immunity. Delikado will confess…everything.
Both men sit at a table as the dramatic music builds to a final crescendo and the scene cuts to black.
Narrator: And now…The End….of Delikado.
Ceterum Autem Censeo Delikado Esse Delendam!
We fade in to the present now, as Delikado sits opposite The Law looking over the contract granting him immunity for everything he’s done throughout his career—including everything in APW.
The Law: Speak any non-related bits, and we’ll get started.
Delikado: I’m good.
The Law: Alrighty. Camera’s on and recording. Who are you? State your name.
Delikado: Delikado.
The Law: Your REAL name.
Delikado pauses for a very long time, before finally inhaling and exhaling.
Delikado: Hector Nero Maravilloso.
The Law: And you agree with everything you are about to say, and that it is said under your own free will. Do you accept?
….Yes.
The Law: Begin.
……………….Eight years ago, when I was out looking for work, I killed and stole the identity of a small-time Cuban wrestler, Delikado.
The Law: You…You killed him?
Hit him in the head with a manhole cover. Then put his body in a freezer. Then melted the freezer with the body in acid. Dunno why I didn’t just do the melting thing first…but that’s how it gooooes…After that I took on his name, his personality, every little detail. Look…
He licks his thumb and then rubs it on a patch of skin on his throat, eventually wiping away makeup matching his skin and revealing an incredibly small device. He promptly pulls the device off his throat and speaks again, in incredibly broken English with a thick Spanish accent.
Issa trans-y-lator ding-a-ma-bob. Putsa all-y dings I says inna list-ah-nab-leh way, choo no mang? I cannae talk too goods utta-wise.
The Law: W….W-Why? Why’d you do it?
The man puts the device back on his throat and then shrugs.
Because I felt like it. Guess I wanted to see if I could.
The Law: So…So you killed…
I killed “Delikado”, took his entire life, and made it my own for these past eight years simply because I wanted to. That’s the answer to your question. I did it out of boredom. During that time I took on the career of the professional wrestler, and I made my way up the ladder. And I won, for a guy with no prior wrestling background. Hell, no exercise background if you can believe that. I assembled a few partnerships, teammates along the way, Deli Tee Vee, and we did what we wanted. Talked trash, got into some wacky adventures, and took whatever looked good. Hell, even if it was shit, a shit job, we took it just to see what we could reap from it. And sometimes I’d lose on purpose, gave up titles and title shots because there was a bigger, more immediate profit. Insider trading basically. Not to mention good lawyers who knew who to bribe and how. I leveraged more shit than people realize, I manipulated scores of people into believing a lie they thought was reality, in APW and all prior companies. Only one guy knew the truth this entire time, that there is no real Delikado, against the millions upon millions who had the wool pulled over their eyes…and it’s this guy right here, who was pulling that wool.
The Law: You…You suck so bad.
I did it all for personal gain, to help myself, to please myself. Even better than competing in the ring, lying has been my instrument through it all. But since I’m here to tell the whole truth now, I’ll fill you in on another gem that might make your blood run cold, that’ll stop the hearts of all my peers, all my bosses, and all the wrestling fans that have ever even heard of me.
He tilts his head and then looks up to the ceiling before looking down again and continuing.
I…. hate wrestling. I think it’s stupid. I liked it a bit in the beginning, but after that it became solely about seeing what I could do behind the scenes rather than out there with some other guy in front of a crowd. I don’t even think of it as a sport, to be honest. Yeah, guys put it all out there, but it’s really just a circus in my eyes, a performance. People get hurt at circuses all the same as they do in a real sport. That’s probably why I fit in so well, because I was pulling a performance myself. A performance inside a performance. Every title meant nothing, every scene was about playing along, every interview—no matter how in-depth or entertaining it was—was bullshit stacked on top of bullshit, and nobody knew it. Nobody knew I was just making it up as I went along. Not my teammates, not my managers or valets, not my… “friends”. They didn’t know that I was purposely sullying and stealthily badmouthing and intentionally disrespecting their beloved game every time I was on camera. They thought I was a clown, a jester, but the fact is I was making them look like the clowns the entire time as I just smiled, put forth stupid humor, and yelled “LIKE A BAWSE!” in the most obnoxious, repetitive manner I could summon. Some people might’ve suspected I was less than I appeared—or perhaps more, depending on your analysis—guys like AC Smith…I’m sure he knew, but he couldn’t prove it. Mark Mania, Terry Marvin…I think my Overdrive title “win” got them suspicious, but I blended in so well afterwards, made myself appear so little a threat, that it didn’t really matter. Refer to myself in the third person, pretend I had rabies, act like the fucking Pope, nobody will worry or look into that. They’ll just wave me off and look the other way, which unfortunately for them allowed me to survive and continue taking my pleasures as I deemed the pleasurable. For instance, Evan Envi, The League, that was me pulling the strings, goading them on, making them appear in charge and with purpose just so I could “suddenly disappear” and watch them all squirm. For fun. I get off on that, subtly pushing my friends to fail. I cheated them, and everyone else, at every turn. For a guy who was nothing to them…I was still better than them.
The Law: And The Black Hand? Your attack by them? All your talks of “revenge?”
Oh I don’t care about that. Not really. The truth is they didn’t do anything to me. The bus, the other shit...I orchestrated it all to give them material to feast off, or even deny because I knew they would look stupid either way. Though that’s not to say I wouldn’t bash them over the head with manhole covers and melt their bodies down either, given the chance…
The Law: So…..*sigh*….tell me what happened after you took on your….”new life.”
What is today?
The Law: The seventh.
And Rasslemania is…
The Law: It starts the 28th, you’re wrestling or….”performing” on the 30th.
Hmmm…We should have *just* enough time for me to tell you everything then. It IS everything, right?
The Law: Everything you want immunity from. What will save you from shit that will otherwise fry your ass.
Cut to black. We then fade in to some point later in the room.
And Kurt, hah…I had my manager switch out his pain medication with some faulty crap, sugar pills or some shit like that we had specially made. So he took them for his leg injury, the leg injury I gave him, hoping he would get better, but it only hurt him, only made him worse, nearly ruined his life. When he finally cracked and was sent to a clinic, we bought the surveillance footage and sold it for a profit. Promoted it on the Internet as a series, under a different name, and we were able to falsify a connection between the videos and some family out in the Midwest, so they all went to jail for illegally promoting private footage! They’d never even heard of Kurt Noble, haha! Eventually Kurt got better and came back, but he never knew it was me the entire time.
The Law: Why would you do that?
Because it was dramatic and sounded like fun.
The Law: Psychologically torturing someone who could have gotten his hand on real pills and overdosed?
Better him than me. Kurt was always a goody two-shoes, and I say that entirely out of character. If I had the ability to be jealous of “in-ring” legacies, I’d want his, but I stay content with my post. It’s a lot more fun scheming, hustling ignorant morons. And that’s where “The Black Hand” comes in. See, I was really, REALLY bored of all this, of APW, and one day I was eating lunch and I said “Hey, let’s kill APW!”
The Law noticeably cringes, but HE doesn’t care.
So I hatched a plan—THE plan--with my team months ago, last year in fact. A plan that would lead me to the strongest example of how much I could deceive and utterly break APW, in one final showdown. We’d start a faction war that would get people’s juices flowing, but then I’d “mysteriously” vanish to an injury. Then the war ceased, the fed would simmer down, but emotions would turn raw behind the scenes because all that “faction war” stuff would boil with no real direction to go but everywhere. As I predicted, people in APW grew tired and started jumping ship. Top guys, the supposed “best” in APW. Real ugly, personal beefs backstage created more drama, and eventually it wore Jeff down to the point he had no choice but to close down. By that time, The Black Hand’s there, thinking they’re all tough shit, but the truth is I denied them everything they wanted and more. I listened, I watched, I did my homework, and I eventually pointed to them, saying “Those are the best APW has”, only by “best”, I actually meant “worst.” They are how far this company fell. Yet by poisoning APW, I cut off the Black Hand at the wrists. They will never survive elsewhere, and even if they try, it’ll just be a second-hand team, a wishful attempt to live the future I expertly pulled away from them. No matter what some “match” at Rasslemania X shows, I’ve won, and my jollies are got. For that matter, everyone in the company has been all excited at the prospect of my and Noble’s return, to the point I manipulated everything to make us look like the good guys. That we’re righteous.
Righteous…me…the guy who bought an orphan from some Third World country to pose as his daughter in promo shoots. Who has injured men or otherwise devised ways for them to be injured by others in that ring. Who put paint chips in his opponent’s drink beforehand just so they’d squirm. Who forced women to sleep with him—wives, girlfriends, fiancées, anything with a vagina—or forced them to be screwed by someone else. You know, I’ve probably banged over half the women in this company, well over half, but I threatened them to keep it to themselves because I saw more fun in watching them be miserable and suppressed by the fact that they cheated on someone they cared about. I’ve accused or set up innocents to appear as anything but, and stood by in childlike tranquility as they engaged in blood feuds with men or women they otherwise have every reason to befriend. I have made personal comedies out of people losing their ability to walk, of being forced into retirement, of death in their families and social circles. I have burned and run over personal property, and then convinced those same owners to buy more, even in debt, so that I may crush or burn it again down the line. More than once have I dug up the pasts of others, the darkest of secrets, and flaunted them to the entire wrestling world, often twisting the facts or forging entirely new details with such a convincing nature, the men and women believe worse of themselves and their histories than is actually true. In eight years, as Delikado, I have done over one million horrific things, all without batting an eye or a hint of stung conscience, and the only thing that bothers me now is that I am not out and about presently doing a billion more horrific things in wrestling and beyond, for fun and shenanigans.
The Law: I think we—
I’m not done. I refuse to be caught later on by some loophole. You will listen, and try to enjoy yourself. After all, you’re getting the truth. Not to mention every one of my teammates.
The scene fades out again, only to fade in again to an even later point.
Aaaaaand…I do believe that is everything.
The Law: *sigh* You do realize your girlfriend will go to prison, and your son will be put into the foster care system. Your “daughter” will likely be deported, and everyone of Deli Tee Vee you’ve worked with in APW will be incriminated to the point they’ll never be able to work again.
………………………………………………………..Sucks to be them.
The Law: You’re still contractually bound to compete at Rasslemania X. If you no-show or put on anything less than your best performance, you will be seen as ducking out on the duties you’ve signed to for immunity, and we will bring you down with the rest of them. It will “suck” to be YOU.
Fear not, cowpoke. I told you about my Black Hand plan, I want to trounce those motherfuckers, and then I’ll get my paycheck. I can put on the performance one last time so long as I’m free.
The Law: Either way. If you have a change of heart, or try to interfere in the slightest, you will nullify everything, and we will drag you out of APW in CHAINS.
But I am free otherwise…? Because I need to go practice my “curtsey” for the curtains.
The Law: You’re evil is what you are. A monster. Not even a man.
……And I resent being anything less. Now, are we done?
The Law removes his cowboy hat and nods softly. “HE” stands up and fixes his jacket.
The Law: You’ve hurt my view of people, you know. You’ve made it so I’ll never completely be able to trust anyone again.
If we’d met sooner, that would just be the beginning.
Fade.
“Entrepreneurs are simply those who understand that there is little difference between obstacle and opportunity and are able to turn both to their advantage.”
--Niccolo Machiavelli
