Post by Slade "The Main Man" Craven on Jun 17, 2012 21:31:56 GMT -4
[glow=darkblue,11,500]THEN...[/glow]
Last week on Meltdown Shadow showed a brutal amount of strength against Kyle Goodburn and Carmen Rivera. The scene opens on Shadow’s explosive hot tag towards the end of his match last week. He tears through Rivera smashing her to the ground with the double axe handles and the fireman’s carry. Then the scene cuts to a flashback of Shadow’s nightmare, the mirror.
“I’ve been having these dreams.”
The exploding mirror takes us to the dark ominous house Shadow was in. More details are visible this time as we move in slow motion, following the high definition repay. He walks from the living room down the hall to his right. The dark night seeps from every little nook and hidden angle in the house. Shadow’s hulking shirtless image is only visible due to the reflected moonlight glowing on the wall across from the bathroom. Shadow stumbles and puts his hand on the wall, his free hand clutches his chest and an is heard.
Dreams...
The scene cuts to him snapping up in bed. It shows him bursting through the log cabin and opening fire at the darkness outside. Another scene shows the AKA truck roaring down the highway. Then to Toothpick Vick tossing the photo down on the table, briefly, house I seen. A close up of Shadow’s face is shown, it fades to him in the ring with Jair Hopkins two weeks ago, Shadow diving down onto him with a powerful clothesline. Shadow rolls to his feet and the camera fades to Slade looking at him across the seat in the truck. His face pale and his eyes wide.
Slade: What do you mean dreams?
[glow=darkblue,11,500]NOW...[/glow]
[shadow=silver,left,1800]Morton, Mississippi[/shadow]
Shadow steps out of his black 1986 Camaro outside a gas station. Its sunrise and it is very obvious he has not slept all night. Shadow puts on his sunglasses after looking around. The little Chevron is in the center of town, and it’s the only gas station around for miles. In a town like this, everyone knows everyone, except Shadow. Everyone was just waking up in this quiet little forest town. Shadow standing in their town did not sit well with them. They did not like outsiders.
Shadow: Just one time, one time, I’d like the gas light to come on in Hooterville.
He enters the Chevron. It’s really obvious that people don't watch wrestling out here. It looks like the reception is not that great. He does not draw attention to himself. This was not the first time he walked into a town and pissed the locals off. He did not want it to end up like last time.
Shadow: Forty on the inside pump.
He hands the local two twenties and walks toward the door. He pauses when his stomach rumbles. Eating here would be a bad idea. He had a match to be ready for. Last thing he needed: The squirts when he gets in the ring with his opponents. Well at least they would get the literal equivalent of what they deserve. His hand pushes the creaky dirty glass door open. Shadow walks back out into the warm morning air and toward his car.
Stranger: You ain’t from round here are ya?
Whipping his head to the left, Shadow spots a mountain man with a big backpack strapped over his shoulders. He looks like he lives in the woods. Shadow could respect that. He could not do it himself. Lord knows, he and nature did not get along.
Shadow: Yeah. Texas.
Old Man: Heading home?
Without responding Shadow opens the gas cap and begins to fill his car up. He contemplates his response. Some people think wrestling is only for men who like to touch other men. That coupled with the fact he is from Texas, well only steers and queers are from Texas. He had to be honest but lie.
Shadow: Work actually. I have a job in Jackson.
The man gets a surprised look on his face. Shadow curses under his breath, he hates lying. He would have to tell the truth.
Shadow: I am an employee removal specialist.
The man seems a bit confused. Something has gone over his head. Shadow just smiles and opens the door to his car and takes a seat inside. He starts thumbing through his cassette collection. The old man recognizes the antiques.
Old Man: Aren’t those a bit outdated?
Shadow: You can’t replicate the classics.
He picks on out as the pump shuts off. Shadow sets the tape in a cup holder, gets out and puts the nozzle back on the pump then screws the cap back on. As he gets back in the car, the old man finally stops him. He looks very bewildered and needs an answer.
Old Man: What does that mean?
Shadow: It means when a company needs me, they hire me to take out their trash.
Suddenly the old man laughs. He treks away shaking his head, leaning into the walking stink. Shadow shuts the door, cranks the engine and pops in the tape. Bad Company’s self-titled hit begins as Shadow pushes the accelerator down then brakes when he comes to the highway. He waits as the morning truck drivers pass through the town at this early hour. The early notes of the song pang in his mind. He drives west on highway 80. He is heading toward Jackson and his next match. Would this one finally break the losing streak? It was strange. He thinks about what it has come to. It almost disgusts him. It definitely pissed him off. He knew what this was. He knew deep down. He wouldn’t job out, not on this one. Monday night, someone was getting their ass whipped. The song continues to play as he slowly blinks. The sun rises in his rearview mirror. The chorus begins and he remembers his losses. The music is louder, and louder. He knows his stereo can’t do this. It screams in his ears. The eighteen wheelers hauling trailers of He blinks, his eyes dry. He can’t think. He looks behind him in the rearview, a tractor trailer is bearing down on him, the headlights bright, yet dim compared to the eye blistering sunlight silhouetting the semi. Shadow’s dry eyes got wide as he couldn’t think. The truck honks it horn as the reprise begins. Sit gets louder; the song is deafening the horn even worse than that! His engine slows as he eases off the accelerator. The truck hits!
Shadow snaps awake at the truck stop outside. To his right a semi for Wal-Mart was blasting his horn. A beeping brings his eyes to his cup holder. He looks at his phone. He is surprised, no shocked. It’s Saturday morning, around 4:30 AM. The he takes in his surroundings. Shadow is at a truck stop. Newton’s Crossing off I 20. He is remembers last night. Thinking about taking the scenic route down I 80. He shakes his head and looks down at the gas gage: half a tank.
Shadow: Better get gas.
He says aloud, before starting the car and pulling up one of the pumps. Before going inside he snatches his phone. The 24 hour Wendy’s looks awesome. As he enters the store his phone goes off, Bad Company is playing. Shadow looks down and sees that Slade is calling. He stares at the phone. A flash of the song blaring in his head makes him stumble. He sees I-80, the city of Morton. He sees an accident. A feeling of dread washes over him as he rushes inside to pay. He puts 30 in the tank and grabs some food from Wendy’s. Then he rushes to the car and fills up. He looks at his phone and sees he has 4 missed calls, all from Craven. He goes to hit redial.
Shadow: No.
His steady thumb presses down on "Ignore all." He can’t call Slade yet, not until he understands more. He is on the road away from Slade. He thinks for a moment and calls 411. The dark sky slowly turning purple in the background.
Shadow: Hi yes, I’d like to check traffic conditions in Morton, Mississippi.
We cut to several hours later. Shadow took the scenic route. He rides down I-80 west, pedal to the floor. It is ten-o-clock. The operator claimed the traffic in Morton was fine. As Shadow pulls through the Podunk town he looks at his gas gage, he still had a quarter of a tank. He could make it back to I 20 before he ran out of gas.
Shadow: Oh Shit!
He slams on the breaks. Traffic is stopped, dead stopped. He looks at the road: an accident. We see Shadow staring through the windshield in shock, the reflection of a medievac helicopter soars overhead, flashing lights bounce off the edge of the glass. Sirens and panic voices are heard in the distance as the scene ever so slowly pulls away to show more of the backdrop. People from town are rushing forward. Everyone is trying to help. Inside his car, Shadow’s jaw just drops.
Cut to black.
So Johnny Diamond wants me to clean house this week. Three return/debuts who want to be all have one thing in common. They think they are big Billy bad asses. I get that. But my thing here is, Mr. Diamond, all you had to do was ask. You want me to violate these walking jokes like the junior prom princess I get that. Okay, all you had to do was ask. You liked my little comment about Evan Ryan being some backwoods town pretty boy jock who caught a nasty Goodburn from the disgusting Colorado stripper Carmen Rivera. But the funniest thing about all this is, that they had the Kash to pay her for it all!
Come on that’s pretty perfect if you ask me. Well not for their health plan and any of Evan Envi’s future prison daddies. You know Evan, you want to flap your gums and flash that stupid grin of yours I think I want to walk down to the commentator’s table Monday night and stick you in the teeth. Little bit of advice. You want to run your mouth about people talking out their ass; you were a living example of that last week. I seem to recall you not following through on your promise during the show. You took off with your new little boyfriend, Jason Kash, and went backstage to do something that must be illegal to do in front of Georgia spectators. You didn’t make me eat any words; no instead I tossed your joke of a streetwalker and Carmen Rivera around the ring for a while. Let me give you a nickel’s worth of free advice Evan. You want to talk shit about someone, make sure you’re not about to be on public display, numb nuts.
Anyway back to the point, no actually the pointless. “For Heaven’s sake, did I really piss someone off backstage?” That’s what someone from the Star telegram asked me. What kind of a question is that? But I saw the point. In fact I understood and I responded. “No, this is not a punishment. This is my reward. Johnny Diamond knows that I really and truly want to straight up beat the living crap out of several poor soles and give myself one damn dominate big first win back and break my winning streak. So as a reward for kicking the crap out of Kyle and Carmen, he gave me the easiest way to do that. He decided to grant me three fresh faced assholes to stomp some deep mud holes into. Thank you, sir.
Matthew Turner come on down. You stringy haired, big nosed mutant troll looking, leather skinned freak-show you. You the first poor bastard on “Shadow! Kick my Ass!” You unlucky piece of trash, I plan to use your “prized leather jacket” to wipe my ass when I’m done whipping yours Monday night. You disrespectful no talent hack. You want to walk in with big plans for APW? I’m Shadow, son. Let Anarchy Rein. What was that you were all about? Im going to straight bounce you ass out of APW Monday night. Even if you are not the damned, heartless soul I finally put out of their misery and end all ya’lls whisper of a career here in APW. When I am done with you, the survivors won’t want to be in APW anymore.
Because you three can’t hack it here. APW needs talent, not trash. I mean this misguided attempt of a Joe Dirt “Buffalo Bob” freak Prometheus Grimm. Wow. That transvestite has some brass balls to even set foot in the south dressed like that. Not between the legs, on the back of the Toyota Prius she drives. Anyone remember that second season of House episode with the beauty queen model daughter who turned out to be a hermaphrodite who slept with her father and had an undescended testicle with cancer? That’s who Prometheus Grimm reminds me of.
Grimm, I have to warn you that I am a down right sadistic bastard in that ring and I am known to pulverize, brutalize, bring down to size and, in your sad case, make one of the others sodomize. Please I do not plan to do this, but you walking around like that may make that sociopathic schizophrenic psycho Bacon might get the hot’s for you and if I don’t put him down like a sick animal or neuter his ass, you might wind up pregnant.
Seriously, Bacon. That’s it? Your name? Bacon, yes, it is a joke. What the hell? You are coming back? I don’t remember you ever being here. You must not be important enough to remember. Well, that’s okay, no one will give you a second thought after Monday night. You want to walk about talking about being evil. Son, I’m Shadow. Something all three of you fail to understand is that I am the embodiment of darkness and chaos. Also, you boys don’t realize that Johnny Diamond knows he doesn’t need you bringing down Meltdown’s crowd with your presence.
Evil, darkness and chaos, one of those three does not belong. You big bad ball-less bitches think you understand anything? The people don’t realize why Slade and I are in the Hall of Fame. That’s right. You see now that Johnny Diamond fed you to the shark? Popping all ya’lls cherries with a Hall of Famer. No way in hell I am taking a dive in that one boys. I don’t know which one of you three I will end, but it will be one of you. No, Slade and I worked because we were the embodiment of light and darkness respectively. Slade is some crazy kind of angel and me I am a force that sweeps across the land leaving a trail of destruction in my wake. But neither of us is evil. We do it for the people, to end corruption and control. To free the world. That is why the people love us and the three of you do not belong.
Johnny Diamond made this match to open up some roster spots on Meltdown. Fine. I could use warm up. I’m sure that after I am finished mopping the ring with the three of your sorry asses he will have something better for me to go into next week. That works for me. Give me some momentum before Test for the Best, or maybe the super-show after. Doesn’t really matter. This losing streak of mine ends Monday night.
This is why I you three need to just go. Because you do not understand that to thrive in this business, you have to be willing to work the sanitation department every now and then. Each of you thinks that you are above that don’t you? Guess what, that’s exactly why I’m here. I think I may walk each and every one of your asses out the back door and toss you in a dumpster after the match is over with just to make my point too.
Do you want to know what gives me comfort in all this? That warm fuzzy feeling deep down in my dark little heart? It is knowing that deep down, you three know, you know for a fact you deserve the ass kicking I plan on dishing out Monday night. You can’t deny what you deserve. Some poor excuse for a human is going to have my size sixteen boot perform some pro bono facial reconstruction on his face and I hate to image that actually being MATTT TUUUURRRRNNNNEEERR! I mean I looked at you picture in your company profile and all I could think was, “Dude you F-ugly.” You look like Elephant kid Rocky. I can’t image how my foot could make that mug worse. But it sure as hell won’t be an improvement. Grimm you twisted little ladyboy, I think you might like it too much. So, Bacon, I think I might drop you. Do you think can I really hit you so hard both your personalities would feel it? Monday night we are going to find out. The losing streak is over boys. No way in hell, you three disrespectful punks are going to put me down. No matter what you do Monday night, this will not be quick; but to the poor, pathetic piece of trash, I finally finish off you better believe that this will definitely be painful.
