Post by T-Marv on Jul 6, 2012 19:56:06 GMT -4
The scene fades in on an overhead shot of a Medieval, fantasy styled castle. Sitting on a huge Platform is a large Throne made out of gold with very elegant designs carved into it and encrusted with various jewels. Around the throne area stand men of valor dressed in full plate armor, and the robed advisors to the king. Sitting in the throne is our APW Overdrive Champion dressed in a large fur cloak with a crown on his head. Standing next to him in a elegant purple gown is his wife and “queen” Faythe. There seems to be a discussion going on as they’re all looking at the laid out maps.
The world is in turmoil. 9 kings all battle for the same seat of honor all contending for one ruling position. However, the identity of the true KING is not a mystery to any soul with half a brain. Weeks ago, the former King C.J. Gates was slaughtered in the field of battle, his throne vacated and left empty for one man to adorn the royal title. The kingslayer himself, Terry Marvin is the rightful heir to the throne. However, 8 other heretics are now laying their unjust claim to the throne based on a pocketful of lies. Now the lands of Asylum and Overdrive are erupting in violent confrontations all aimed at determining the new Ruler of the APW Kingdoms.
A plump bald man in tan robes steps forward. Everybody in the council quickly quiets down as a show of respect toward this man. “My King, though most in the Kingdom recognize your claim to the throne, your advisories are amassing large armies aimed at unseating you and claiming the prize for their own. Fortunately, they’re busy with their own little squabbles at the moment and are incapable of banding together to truly challenge your dominance.”
Terry thinks on these words for a bit. His expression doesn’t change. ”But surely, my enemies are not stupid enough to leave my land unchecked throughout all of this.”
The advisor nods, impressed that the King saw through his smokescreen and continues. ”There is one sire, one man who will be here before all others. One man who has managed to slip under the radar of the other Lords and is gunning strait for you. He is Lord AC Smith of the House of Slater. Though he lacks any real hardened battle experience, he has so far won a couple battles and seems to be building a full load of confidence. He is charging at you like he’s got nothing to lose.”
Of course he is… because he DOES have nothing to lose. Nobody thinks he really has a shot. He’s just here to play the spoiler and throw a monkey wrench into things while the rest of it goes straight to hell. He has lofty goals of unseating the king and taking the throne over for his own. But let’s be honest for a minute here. AC Smith has fewer claims to this throne than almost any other person in this God Forsaken battle. He’s a fool in Knights clothing! He somehow thinks that saying something is going to happen will make it so. Instead he will eat his words and eat my sword when I face him one on one and prove without a shadow of a doubt that I am the man chosen by God Himself to bring peace to this wretched world! His eyes are glossed over with visions of glory and riches that exist only in the imagination. He will walk through my gates…right up to my chambers and be smote down with such precision and quickness that he’ll be unable to conjure up that last inventive thought that is so deep and meaningful that it will leave it’s mark on the world. No, his last moments will be as brief and forgettable as his pathetic rise to power…and then he will be simply forgotten!
Terry and his advisors seem like they’ve had a pretty good discussion about AC Smith and how to handle him.
”Soon Gentlemen, we will be celebrating the demise of AC Smith and the worldwide acceptance of that one true fact that I am the true LORD of these lands! ” King Marvin slumps back satisfied.
The advisors look at each other and then urge the larger bald man to step forward again. ”My liege, he is not the only man to come seeking your crown. ”
Terry just smiles a knowing grin and shares a laugh with “Queen” Faythe. ”Of course he isn’t. Do you take me for some cheap Charlatan?” There is an awkward silence. ”Do you think this crown adorns an empty head?” His voice has a tone of anger to it now, and the council all takes a step back.
Terry takes a deep breath and then waves at the advisor to continue on. The man steps forward and begins. ”There is a battle in the south…one raging between three of the most massive and battle hardened armies that have ever taken up a quest such as this. The Lords Keaton Saint, John Dionysus, and Steve Stryker are in an all out war with each other!”
Terry rubs his chin a bit and thinks this over. ”I don’t see the problem with this. Let them weaken each other, then I’ll just pick off what’s left.” He pauses for a second. ”Tell me about this Lord Stryker.”
“Oh no sir. He’s not a lord, not in the least. He’s a simple commoner, a hitman if you will.” This nearly causes Terry to break out into jubilant laughter, but the advisor raises his hand to stop him. “Please do not underestimate him though. He is a fighter from the wasteland of the Meltdown. He is a man of his people, and therefore they fight for him.”
A man of the people? That’s a nice way of saying he’s a damn peasant. He’s the lowest of the low borns, not even fit to saddle my horse. This Steve Stryker has no claim to the throne…has no reason to think that he does, and yet he still makes his way to challenge me. What keeps a delusional man like that striving towards his goal. Deep down in his heart of hearts, he has to be aware that he doesn’t stand a snowballs chance in hell of actually claiming my throne. Does he know that and still keeps going? No, I doubt that. They call him the hitman, as I’m sure the title Kingslayer would go very nicely with that as well. So I’m sure he thinks that a simple assassination would be enough to gain himself the throne. I’m not the moron king who would allow himself to be so vulnerable as to be cut down like a common noble who’s arrogance clouds his judgment. Steve Stryker is a bottom feeding commoner trying to rise above his station in life. There’s a reason that we have classes…and a reason it is so DIFICULT to get out of that which you were born into. There is no place in the world for somebody trying to cross those boundaries. There are leaders…there are followers…and there are bodies just breathing up the oxygen for the rest of us. Steve Stryker is the latter. His place in his world is kissing my royal ass!
”And what of this Dionysus fella?” Terry says with a curious look on his face. ”I here tell he has quite the following.”
“It is said he rules with an iron fist my liege. He is supposed to be the voice of justice, the voice of the people. It is said he shall lead this land into a new beginning era of glory.”
The advisor recognizes at once that he shouldn’t have spoken so freely as Terry irately jumps from his chair.
”GLORY? We are in the new era of Glory. I have brought prosperity to this world that otherwise could have never existed. I am the one leading this nation into the golden age! I am the one who should be worshiped by the people…as well as feared and envied!”
The advisor treads lightly. “Of course Sire. I am merely passing along the mumblings of the lower classes. He seems to be a voice for the voiceless. He claims to stand up against corruption!”
Corruption? That’s one hell of a laugh. When I defeated the prior King, I put an end to any corruption that has plagued this world. The puppet masters pulling on the strings of fate had them cut away and were forced to be mere spectators. It’s ironic that they call John a voice for the voiceless. When he speaks it sounds like a robot getting an enema. They call him the stone wall because that pretty much sums up his charisma. Sure, leading by example…leading by strength will take you a long LONG way, but what happens when you come to a problem that a swift kick in the ass isn’t going to solve. What happens when diplomacy wins out over trying to bludgeon a guy to a bloody pulp? He wall fail and go down in a blaze of glory so bright that every single member of the 7 kingdoms will be able to see it in excruciating detail. John thinks of himself as a sort of hero. We know from history what happens to heroes…they’re the last ones standing in a battle they can’t win. They die in the most epic and glorious of ways…but they die just the same. I will not be so kind as to immortalize John Dionysus for all to see. When he falls at my hands, it will be swift and as embarrassing as I can possibly make it. His head will hang as a banner of shame, not one of promise!
Terry shakes his head as if he doesn’t want to hear anymore and turns back to his throne. ”That’s enough for now.”
“But your grace….”
”I SAID THAT’S ENOUGH!” The sound of his voice makes the palace walls shake.
A fire of rage burns in Terry’s eyes. ”Do you not think I know the next name to come out of your mouth? Trust me, I am fully aware of the other blasphemer trying to take my throne. He is a thief and a fraud, and a jealous little boy looking longingly after the toys he will never capture. Every single time he’s tried to usurp me…he’s fallen hard and fast down a well of despair and depression.”
Scared of Terry’s wrath, but knowing that he must continue on, the Advisor speaks of this foe that Terry has clearly had enough of. “Keaton Saint is calling himself the chosen one…the paragon. He claims to be a Saint, backed by the almighty himself. If that’s true….”
”Speak another sentence and I’ll have your tongue!”
Some Cockroaches just can’t be killed. They never learn their lessons. Cut off their tongue…they’ll come back silently. Cut off their hands, they’ll find new ones. Cut off their feet and they will find minions to carry them to the goal. I think it’s time to do the one and only thing you can when a pest continues to plague your house….cut off the head and the body dies! Keaton Saint cannot accept defeat no matter how often and decisively it is handed to him. I don’t know if he likes the abuse or if he’s somehow tricked himself into thinking that this time he’ll win. Either way…this will be the last time Keaton Saint and Terry Marvin are featured in the same conflict EVER again. Keaton will not walk away from this battle…he will not live to fight another day. I will squash him once and for all like the pest that he truly is. Keaton claims to be a proponent of the Gods, yet why do they continue to allow him to be so irrevocably defeated time and time again. It seems the Gods are against him…and in my favor. After all, God himself send me down here to this world as a GIFT, the only other gift he’s given since his son was murdered. I am the reason people are allowed to walk and breathe freely. I am the true Saint, the true Patron. Keaton is a pretender who’s illusion has long since been exposed. When the Saint comes marching into my castle… the world will watch his final fall!
Terry stands up and looks around to all his advisors and subjects in the main hall.
”YOU are looking at your rightful king. If others wish to claim what they say is there’s…let them come. Let them all come. When the battle is over, it will be their blood painting our walls. I will hold this throne… I will wear this crown…and I will reap the glory and immortality that comes along with it. In the Game of Thrones, you win or you die.
The cheers rally all around the kingdom until a messenger bursts through the doors panting from the long run. He falls to the floor in front of the King and manages to blurt out one statement….
”The Kingdoms of Asylum….they’re banding together….THEY’RE COMING!”
Most of the crowd gasps as Terry just sits on his throne smiling, ready for what comes next.
”Then let them come……”
The set is now empty, with only Terry Marvin left sitting on his so called throne. The APW Overdrive Championship is draped over his shoulder and compliments his ruby encrusted crown quite nicely. He smiles as he looks around at the whole setup. But the smile quickly fades
”I meant it when I said this was war…bloody, violent, and intense. In just a few days when I step foot in the United Center in the windy city….this will be no “Game“ and there will be no big production coming out of me. I will be there with one mission on my mind and that‘s to claim the TEST for the BEST prize and continue on toward that great song of destiny calling out to me inviting me in to her outstretched arms! I don’t care if I have to lie, cheat, or steal to get that crown. Hell, I don‘t care if I have to leave 3 other competitors laying near oblivion on that mat, gasping for their final death throes as they watch me with my head and arms held High! I‘ll do whatever I have to in order to secure my destiny…”
Terry smiles a bit, but it’s not a satisfying happy smile of the boy who just got his first puppy. It’s sick and twisted, stemming from the visions of dealing all the dammage necessary to claim victory.
”You know, it‘s quite interesting to think that we‘re here in the heart of Chicago, home to some of the greatest organized crime minds in history. So imagine my surprise when I looked at the Test for the Best card and saw no trace of that patented biased nature of the corrupt powers that be and instead see the road to the crown paved right in front of me. First…I‘m shocked that I wasn‘t thrown into the game of three…just more chances for Jeff to screw me over in broad daylight and keeping the plausible deniability of a triple threat match. And then…I find out I have the softest opponent since Brandon Harvey rolled his bowl full of jelly off the radar! I guess the Syndicate really is making a difference!
Don‘t get me wrong AC, you picked up a hell of a victory on Overdrive in that showcase of a tag match….Or did you? Do you remember how it was you got that victory? Think clearly and you‘ll realize that I ALLOWED you to pick that victory up…I set the whole thing in motion. I manipulated the entire battle field and gave that oh so precious victory to you in a gift wrapped package. I was in control the entire time…never once faltering or taking a single misstep.
But why oh why did I hand you that victory on a silver platter? EASY! With all that confidence floating in your head, how easy would it be for you to drop your guard down and believe for one second that you could actually win this entire thing?”
Terry pretends to cast out a fishing pole, then snag a huge fish and reel it in.
”GOTCHA BITCH!
You like to remind everybody that you‘ve been in this business 12 years…that you‘ve done this and that. BLAH BLAH BLAH! I am so sick and tired of hearing you drone on and on and on about the past. This is the APW pal and here you haven‘t earned a GOD DAMN THING. You‘re simply cannon fodder set in front of me for an easy path to cruise on toward my one and only goal.”
Terry then shakes his hands together as if he was moving on from a dirty job, or finally putting something to rest.
”Now, let‘s move on to the three stooges… Larry, Curly, and WHO THE HELL DID YOU PAY OFF TO GET IN THIS TOURNAMENT. Seriously, Steve Stryker, the joke of the Experts Tournament who can‘t even buy a win? Did you enjoy being on your knees pleasuring President Jeff and his “compensating for something“ little willy? The fact that I have the chance to destroy you not once but twice in the span of 24 hours makes me feel like it‘s almost Christmas. Seriously though, congratulations on being the one member from Meltdown to make it to the Test for the Best tournament. Although that‘s the equivalent of being the one retard from Mrs. Fields class for the mentally deficient to qualify for the Olympic games only to be crushed by the ringer in the very first round of competition.
So Hitman, you got a contract out on me? Are you going to be the man to stop me dead in my tracks during the hottest win streak that I‘ve ever been on in my life? Are you going to be the angel of death to rip the destiny out of my dying grasp? Come on Steve….do you honestly think some underling from the minor leagues could block the path of the GREATEST thing to EVER happen to wrestling? Let me tell you what‘s going to happen when you step in the ring with me….oh wait, you‘ll have to get past my two punching bags first. Sure, Keaton and John are my own personal whipping boys, but their talent level trumps yours in every way possible. You‘re simply the peon stuck in that match to give hope for the little guy.
You‘re not a player in this Steve…never have been, never will be. Have fun on the sidelines watching my rise to glory.”
Terry then stands up from his throne and takes a few steps forward, leaning towards the camera.
”That brings me to the ambiguously gay…..er, dynamic duo of John Dionysus and Keaton Saint. Well Well boys…. I guess this is Fate‘s cruel joke that one of you two yahoos will most likely be standing face to face with me in the Semi Finals. So John… is this your chance to finally reach that pinnacle of greatness you‘ve so been striving to achieve? What‘s the plan, you win Test for the Best, get the title shot and pin Kurt Noble in the middle of that ring at Shockwave? Are you listening to yourself speak? You‘re the king of the “other guys“ on the roster John. You will always have a great deal of success when you stay in your wheelhouse, but when you try to climb that ladder, there will always be a superior force like me standing there to knock it over and lay you flat on your ass!
I admire you John.. I truly do. Not everybody could go around with the personality of a gnat and make it as far as you have. To be the Xtreme Champion without having an OUNCE of extreme in you? That takes something a little special. But if you honestly think you can grasp something like the Test for the Best Crown without having that kill or be killed mindset to do every single thing it takes no matter the cost of your moral code, then you are by far the dumbest person I‘ve ever seen with my two eyes…and I‘ve been to West Virginia.
John…. Your speak softly, but carry a big punch mindset works….but it‘ll only get you so far, perhaps it‘ll even carry you to a ringside seat at your own demise. Good luck John…you‘re going to need it!”
Terry then smiles again and lets out a low laugh.
”This must be déjà vu! The Real Show and the Patron Saint of wrestling on a collision course that will cause sparks to fly all over this town. And somehow, there is still hope in those vacant eyes of yours. There is still a slimmer of hope that you can actually get one over on me. Isn‘t that precious? You know Keaton…they say the definition of insanity is repeating the same course of action over and over again and expecting different results. I never flagged you for a crazy person…but if the shoe fits right?
I can see in your eyes Keaton, that you‘re hoping against hope that AC Smith finds a way to take down the terrible villian that has thus been the bane of your existence. Face it… if you‘re the APW‘s version of fucking superman…I‘m your god damned KRYPTONITE! Even when that slack jawed rookie picked up the victory over you in our Tag Match…you looked down in my eyes and you KNEW beyond all doubt that I was the one that beat you Keaton. I have beaten you each and every single day since that first time you were too inept to defeat me. But I defeated you…that day and everyday since. I‘m in your head Keaton. I‘m the boogie man that strikes when you close your eyes. I‘m that thing….that one thing that you can never get past.
I pray to god you make it out of that triple threat Keaton. This time I will bury in more than yet another match. I will break you like the pathetic little animal you are and show you once and for all that I am your master…and you will bend at my will!”
Terry’s intensity shines through his eyes and he doesn’t put it away quite yet.
”This is it folks… the biggest moment some of you will ever hope to achieve in you‘re pathetic little lives. For some of you it‘s the only hope to escape the constant hell of clawing your way out of the basement OVER AND OVER AND OVER again. For some of you, it will never get any better than this, being one of the 9 prestigious finalist in this years Test for the Best. But for all of you, this will be something greater than any fruitless victory could ever bring you. This will be your lucky chance to witness something that very few people ever will. You get to witness GODS GIFT TO WRESTLING accomplishing his divine mission and finally grabbing that sweet sweet kiss from Destiny that has alluded him thus far!
And if any of you little pukes even think about standing in my way it will be the last mistake you ever make on this ill-fated stay on planet earth.
NOTHING will keep me from my destiny.
Nothing will keep me from conquering APW once and for all.
Step One…defeat the rabble of Overdrive….Step two, walk over the corpses of Asylum…. Step Three, a date with a cripple.
This isn‘t the Big Apple….
This isn‘t Hitman Mania…..
This isn‘t a Dionysus snooze fest….
And the Saint‘s will certainly not be marching anywhere near victory lane.
This Test is merely a formality as the BEST is already written in the stars, just waiting to shine through…. Only one name will rise above all others.
Don‘t be scared….you can‘t run from fate….
ITS SHOWTIME”
The world is in turmoil. 9 kings all battle for the same seat of honor all contending for one ruling position. However, the identity of the true KING is not a mystery to any soul with half a brain. Weeks ago, the former King C.J. Gates was slaughtered in the field of battle, his throne vacated and left empty for one man to adorn the royal title. The kingslayer himself, Terry Marvin is the rightful heir to the throne. However, 8 other heretics are now laying their unjust claim to the throne based on a pocketful of lies. Now the lands of Asylum and Overdrive are erupting in violent confrontations all aimed at determining the new Ruler of the APW Kingdoms.
A plump bald man in tan robes steps forward. Everybody in the council quickly quiets down as a show of respect toward this man. “My King, though most in the Kingdom recognize your claim to the throne, your advisories are amassing large armies aimed at unseating you and claiming the prize for their own. Fortunately, they’re busy with their own little squabbles at the moment and are incapable of banding together to truly challenge your dominance.”
Terry thinks on these words for a bit. His expression doesn’t change. ”But surely, my enemies are not stupid enough to leave my land unchecked throughout all of this.”
The advisor nods, impressed that the King saw through his smokescreen and continues. ”There is one sire, one man who will be here before all others. One man who has managed to slip under the radar of the other Lords and is gunning strait for you. He is Lord AC Smith of the House of Slater. Though he lacks any real hardened battle experience, he has so far won a couple battles and seems to be building a full load of confidence. He is charging at you like he’s got nothing to lose.”
Of course he is… because he DOES have nothing to lose. Nobody thinks he really has a shot. He’s just here to play the spoiler and throw a monkey wrench into things while the rest of it goes straight to hell. He has lofty goals of unseating the king and taking the throne over for his own. But let’s be honest for a minute here. AC Smith has fewer claims to this throne than almost any other person in this God Forsaken battle. He’s a fool in Knights clothing! He somehow thinks that saying something is going to happen will make it so. Instead he will eat his words and eat my sword when I face him one on one and prove without a shadow of a doubt that I am the man chosen by God Himself to bring peace to this wretched world! His eyes are glossed over with visions of glory and riches that exist only in the imagination. He will walk through my gates…right up to my chambers and be smote down with such precision and quickness that he’ll be unable to conjure up that last inventive thought that is so deep and meaningful that it will leave it’s mark on the world. No, his last moments will be as brief and forgettable as his pathetic rise to power…and then he will be simply forgotten!
Terry and his advisors seem like they’ve had a pretty good discussion about AC Smith and how to handle him.
”Soon Gentlemen, we will be celebrating the demise of AC Smith and the worldwide acceptance of that one true fact that I am the true LORD of these lands! ” King Marvin slumps back satisfied.
The advisors look at each other and then urge the larger bald man to step forward again. ”My liege, he is not the only man to come seeking your crown. ”
Terry just smiles a knowing grin and shares a laugh with “Queen” Faythe. ”Of course he isn’t. Do you take me for some cheap Charlatan?” There is an awkward silence. ”Do you think this crown adorns an empty head?” His voice has a tone of anger to it now, and the council all takes a step back.
Terry takes a deep breath and then waves at the advisor to continue on. The man steps forward and begins. ”There is a battle in the south…one raging between three of the most massive and battle hardened armies that have ever taken up a quest such as this. The Lords Keaton Saint, John Dionysus, and Steve Stryker are in an all out war with each other!”
Terry rubs his chin a bit and thinks this over. ”I don’t see the problem with this. Let them weaken each other, then I’ll just pick off what’s left.” He pauses for a second. ”Tell me about this Lord Stryker.”
“Oh no sir. He’s not a lord, not in the least. He’s a simple commoner, a hitman if you will.” This nearly causes Terry to break out into jubilant laughter, but the advisor raises his hand to stop him. “Please do not underestimate him though. He is a fighter from the wasteland of the Meltdown. He is a man of his people, and therefore they fight for him.”
A man of the people? That’s a nice way of saying he’s a damn peasant. He’s the lowest of the low borns, not even fit to saddle my horse. This Steve Stryker has no claim to the throne…has no reason to think that he does, and yet he still makes his way to challenge me. What keeps a delusional man like that striving towards his goal. Deep down in his heart of hearts, he has to be aware that he doesn’t stand a snowballs chance in hell of actually claiming my throne. Does he know that and still keeps going? No, I doubt that. They call him the hitman, as I’m sure the title Kingslayer would go very nicely with that as well. So I’m sure he thinks that a simple assassination would be enough to gain himself the throne. I’m not the moron king who would allow himself to be so vulnerable as to be cut down like a common noble who’s arrogance clouds his judgment. Steve Stryker is a bottom feeding commoner trying to rise above his station in life. There’s a reason that we have classes…and a reason it is so DIFICULT to get out of that which you were born into. There is no place in the world for somebody trying to cross those boundaries. There are leaders…there are followers…and there are bodies just breathing up the oxygen for the rest of us. Steve Stryker is the latter. His place in his world is kissing my royal ass!
”And what of this Dionysus fella?” Terry says with a curious look on his face. ”I here tell he has quite the following.”
“It is said he rules with an iron fist my liege. He is supposed to be the voice of justice, the voice of the people. It is said he shall lead this land into a new beginning era of glory.”
The advisor recognizes at once that he shouldn’t have spoken so freely as Terry irately jumps from his chair.
”GLORY? We are in the new era of Glory. I have brought prosperity to this world that otherwise could have never existed. I am the one leading this nation into the golden age! I am the one who should be worshiped by the people…as well as feared and envied!”
The advisor treads lightly. “Of course Sire. I am merely passing along the mumblings of the lower classes. He seems to be a voice for the voiceless. He claims to stand up against corruption!”
Corruption? That’s one hell of a laugh. When I defeated the prior King, I put an end to any corruption that has plagued this world. The puppet masters pulling on the strings of fate had them cut away and were forced to be mere spectators. It’s ironic that they call John a voice for the voiceless. When he speaks it sounds like a robot getting an enema. They call him the stone wall because that pretty much sums up his charisma. Sure, leading by example…leading by strength will take you a long LONG way, but what happens when you come to a problem that a swift kick in the ass isn’t going to solve. What happens when diplomacy wins out over trying to bludgeon a guy to a bloody pulp? He wall fail and go down in a blaze of glory so bright that every single member of the 7 kingdoms will be able to see it in excruciating detail. John thinks of himself as a sort of hero. We know from history what happens to heroes…they’re the last ones standing in a battle they can’t win. They die in the most epic and glorious of ways…but they die just the same. I will not be so kind as to immortalize John Dionysus for all to see. When he falls at my hands, it will be swift and as embarrassing as I can possibly make it. His head will hang as a banner of shame, not one of promise!
Terry shakes his head as if he doesn’t want to hear anymore and turns back to his throne. ”That’s enough for now.”
“But your grace….”
”I SAID THAT’S ENOUGH!” The sound of his voice makes the palace walls shake.
A fire of rage burns in Terry’s eyes. ”Do you not think I know the next name to come out of your mouth? Trust me, I am fully aware of the other blasphemer trying to take my throne. He is a thief and a fraud, and a jealous little boy looking longingly after the toys he will never capture. Every single time he’s tried to usurp me…he’s fallen hard and fast down a well of despair and depression.”
Scared of Terry’s wrath, but knowing that he must continue on, the Advisor speaks of this foe that Terry has clearly had enough of. “Keaton Saint is calling himself the chosen one…the paragon. He claims to be a Saint, backed by the almighty himself. If that’s true….”
”Speak another sentence and I’ll have your tongue!”
Some Cockroaches just can’t be killed. They never learn their lessons. Cut off their tongue…they’ll come back silently. Cut off their hands, they’ll find new ones. Cut off their feet and they will find minions to carry them to the goal. I think it’s time to do the one and only thing you can when a pest continues to plague your house….cut off the head and the body dies! Keaton Saint cannot accept defeat no matter how often and decisively it is handed to him. I don’t know if he likes the abuse or if he’s somehow tricked himself into thinking that this time he’ll win. Either way…this will be the last time Keaton Saint and Terry Marvin are featured in the same conflict EVER again. Keaton will not walk away from this battle…he will not live to fight another day. I will squash him once and for all like the pest that he truly is. Keaton claims to be a proponent of the Gods, yet why do they continue to allow him to be so irrevocably defeated time and time again. It seems the Gods are against him…and in my favor. After all, God himself send me down here to this world as a GIFT, the only other gift he’s given since his son was murdered. I am the reason people are allowed to walk and breathe freely. I am the true Saint, the true Patron. Keaton is a pretender who’s illusion has long since been exposed. When the Saint comes marching into my castle… the world will watch his final fall!
Terry stands up and looks around to all his advisors and subjects in the main hall.
”YOU are looking at your rightful king. If others wish to claim what they say is there’s…let them come. Let them all come. When the battle is over, it will be their blood painting our walls. I will hold this throne… I will wear this crown…and I will reap the glory and immortality that comes along with it. In the Game of Thrones, you win or you die.
The cheers rally all around the kingdom until a messenger bursts through the doors panting from the long run. He falls to the floor in front of the King and manages to blurt out one statement….
”The Kingdoms of Asylum….they’re banding together….THEY’RE COMING!”
Most of the crowd gasps as Terry just sits on his throne smiling, ready for what comes next.
”Then let them come……”
------------------------------------------------------
The set is now empty, with only Terry Marvin left sitting on his so called throne. The APW Overdrive Championship is draped over his shoulder and compliments his ruby encrusted crown quite nicely. He smiles as he looks around at the whole setup. But the smile quickly fades
”I meant it when I said this was war…bloody, violent, and intense. In just a few days when I step foot in the United Center in the windy city….this will be no “Game“ and there will be no big production coming out of me. I will be there with one mission on my mind and that‘s to claim the TEST for the BEST prize and continue on toward that great song of destiny calling out to me inviting me in to her outstretched arms! I don’t care if I have to lie, cheat, or steal to get that crown. Hell, I don‘t care if I have to leave 3 other competitors laying near oblivion on that mat, gasping for their final death throes as they watch me with my head and arms held High! I‘ll do whatever I have to in order to secure my destiny…”
Terry smiles a bit, but it’s not a satisfying happy smile of the boy who just got his first puppy. It’s sick and twisted, stemming from the visions of dealing all the dammage necessary to claim victory.
”You know, it‘s quite interesting to think that we‘re here in the heart of Chicago, home to some of the greatest organized crime minds in history. So imagine my surprise when I looked at the Test for the Best card and saw no trace of that patented biased nature of the corrupt powers that be and instead see the road to the crown paved right in front of me. First…I‘m shocked that I wasn‘t thrown into the game of three…just more chances for Jeff to screw me over in broad daylight and keeping the plausible deniability of a triple threat match. And then…I find out I have the softest opponent since Brandon Harvey rolled his bowl full of jelly off the radar! I guess the Syndicate really is making a difference!
Don‘t get me wrong AC, you picked up a hell of a victory on Overdrive in that showcase of a tag match….Or did you? Do you remember how it was you got that victory? Think clearly and you‘ll realize that I ALLOWED you to pick that victory up…I set the whole thing in motion. I manipulated the entire battle field and gave that oh so precious victory to you in a gift wrapped package. I was in control the entire time…never once faltering or taking a single misstep.
But why oh why did I hand you that victory on a silver platter? EASY! With all that confidence floating in your head, how easy would it be for you to drop your guard down and believe for one second that you could actually win this entire thing?”
Terry pretends to cast out a fishing pole, then snag a huge fish and reel it in.
”GOTCHA BITCH!
You like to remind everybody that you‘ve been in this business 12 years…that you‘ve done this and that. BLAH BLAH BLAH! I am so sick and tired of hearing you drone on and on and on about the past. This is the APW pal and here you haven‘t earned a GOD DAMN THING. You‘re simply cannon fodder set in front of me for an easy path to cruise on toward my one and only goal.”
Terry then shakes his hands together as if he was moving on from a dirty job, or finally putting something to rest.
”Now, let‘s move on to the three stooges… Larry, Curly, and WHO THE HELL DID YOU PAY OFF TO GET IN THIS TOURNAMENT. Seriously, Steve Stryker, the joke of the Experts Tournament who can‘t even buy a win? Did you enjoy being on your knees pleasuring President Jeff and his “compensating for something“ little willy? The fact that I have the chance to destroy you not once but twice in the span of 24 hours makes me feel like it‘s almost Christmas. Seriously though, congratulations on being the one member from Meltdown to make it to the Test for the Best tournament. Although that‘s the equivalent of being the one retard from Mrs. Fields class for the mentally deficient to qualify for the Olympic games only to be crushed by the ringer in the very first round of competition.
So Hitman, you got a contract out on me? Are you going to be the man to stop me dead in my tracks during the hottest win streak that I‘ve ever been on in my life? Are you going to be the angel of death to rip the destiny out of my dying grasp? Come on Steve….do you honestly think some underling from the minor leagues could block the path of the GREATEST thing to EVER happen to wrestling? Let me tell you what‘s going to happen when you step in the ring with me….oh wait, you‘ll have to get past my two punching bags first. Sure, Keaton and John are my own personal whipping boys, but their talent level trumps yours in every way possible. You‘re simply the peon stuck in that match to give hope for the little guy.
You‘re not a player in this Steve…never have been, never will be. Have fun on the sidelines watching my rise to glory.”
Terry then stands up from his throne and takes a few steps forward, leaning towards the camera.
”That brings me to the ambiguously gay…..er, dynamic duo of John Dionysus and Keaton Saint. Well Well boys…. I guess this is Fate‘s cruel joke that one of you two yahoos will most likely be standing face to face with me in the Semi Finals. So John… is this your chance to finally reach that pinnacle of greatness you‘ve so been striving to achieve? What‘s the plan, you win Test for the Best, get the title shot and pin Kurt Noble in the middle of that ring at Shockwave? Are you listening to yourself speak? You‘re the king of the “other guys“ on the roster John. You will always have a great deal of success when you stay in your wheelhouse, but when you try to climb that ladder, there will always be a superior force like me standing there to knock it over and lay you flat on your ass!
I admire you John.. I truly do. Not everybody could go around with the personality of a gnat and make it as far as you have. To be the Xtreme Champion without having an OUNCE of extreme in you? That takes something a little special. But if you honestly think you can grasp something like the Test for the Best Crown without having that kill or be killed mindset to do every single thing it takes no matter the cost of your moral code, then you are by far the dumbest person I‘ve ever seen with my two eyes…and I‘ve been to West Virginia.
John…. Your speak softly, but carry a big punch mindset works….but it‘ll only get you so far, perhaps it‘ll even carry you to a ringside seat at your own demise. Good luck John…you‘re going to need it!”
Terry then smiles again and lets out a low laugh.
”This must be déjà vu! The Real Show and the Patron Saint of wrestling on a collision course that will cause sparks to fly all over this town. And somehow, there is still hope in those vacant eyes of yours. There is still a slimmer of hope that you can actually get one over on me. Isn‘t that precious? You know Keaton…they say the definition of insanity is repeating the same course of action over and over again and expecting different results. I never flagged you for a crazy person…but if the shoe fits right?
I can see in your eyes Keaton, that you‘re hoping against hope that AC Smith finds a way to take down the terrible villian that has thus been the bane of your existence. Face it… if you‘re the APW‘s version of fucking superman…I‘m your god damned KRYPTONITE! Even when that slack jawed rookie picked up the victory over you in our Tag Match…you looked down in my eyes and you KNEW beyond all doubt that I was the one that beat you Keaton. I have beaten you each and every single day since that first time you were too inept to defeat me. But I defeated you…that day and everyday since. I‘m in your head Keaton. I‘m the boogie man that strikes when you close your eyes. I‘m that thing….that one thing that you can never get past.
I pray to god you make it out of that triple threat Keaton. This time I will bury in more than yet another match. I will break you like the pathetic little animal you are and show you once and for all that I am your master…and you will bend at my will!”
Terry’s intensity shines through his eyes and he doesn’t put it away quite yet.
”This is it folks… the biggest moment some of you will ever hope to achieve in you‘re pathetic little lives. For some of you it‘s the only hope to escape the constant hell of clawing your way out of the basement OVER AND OVER AND OVER again. For some of you, it will never get any better than this, being one of the 9 prestigious finalist in this years Test for the Best. But for all of you, this will be something greater than any fruitless victory could ever bring you. This will be your lucky chance to witness something that very few people ever will. You get to witness GODS GIFT TO WRESTLING accomplishing his divine mission and finally grabbing that sweet sweet kiss from Destiny that has alluded him thus far!
And if any of you little pukes even think about standing in my way it will be the last mistake you ever make on this ill-fated stay on planet earth.
NOTHING will keep me from my destiny.
Nothing will keep me from conquering APW once and for all.
Step One…defeat the rabble of Overdrive….Step two, walk over the corpses of Asylum…. Step Three, a date with a cripple.
This isn‘t the Big Apple….
This isn‘t Hitman Mania…..
This isn‘t a Dionysus snooze fest….
And the Saint‘s will certainly not be marching anywhere near victory lane.
This Test is merely a formality as the BEST is already written in the stars, just waiting to shine through…. Only one name will rise above all others.
Don‘t be scared….you can‘t run from fate….
ITS SHOWTIME”
