Post by Phate on Jun 16, 2008 17:41:13 GMT -4
Step two was close to through.
Step two was staying true.
Step one was already won.
Now what to do about two?
HE found their match this week funny.
Fact of the matter is that it really wasn’t funny.
Why?
Because it had the potential to truly derail step two.
And it wouldn’t even be their fault.
Step two? What?
Don’t scratch your head – they’ll start from the beginning.
RECAP!!
He had impressed Action Packed Wrestling’s management enough within his first month in the organization on his own to garner himself a berth in the first-ever Test for the Best Tournament. The winner of the tournament would get quite the prestigious prize – a World Heavyweight Championship match at the company’s Shockwave pay-per-view in late-August. A spot in such a career-defining tourney, on the other hand, was NOT guaranteed, and it took an unblemished record and great showings against But as successful as he had been thus far during his tenure in APW he also knew that as mentally strong as he was in the squared circle that even his mind wasn’t powerful enough to look at things from every angle and develop a near-flawless plan of action. HE sensed it….HE knew that he was needed arguably now more than ever.
And HE forced himself back into his life.
It was subtle enough - - a subconsciously well-timed School’s Out Stunner against the recently-released JZ during a May 19th singles contest, just to make HIS presence known…just to show him how much he needed HIS assistance again. As soon as he realized what had transpired in the ring he immediately holed himself away, refusing to field any phone calls or even step foot outside of his home in Portland, Oregon. He didn’t want HIM back. He had done so well over the least year of his life without HIS presence and he damn sure didn’t feel he needed it now. He had found a happy balance…
Even if that balance hadn’t translated into any singles championships in quite some time.
Sure he had held tag team championships and achieved incredible tem success over the last year with a menagerie of partners but success on his own had somehow alluded him with ever turn of the corner. He had told himself that these things happen in every professional wrestler’s career, that every athlete puts his own solo aspirations on hold to help propel others to a higher echelon. And…and…
He knew that was complete rubbish.
He hadn’t achieved singular success because he had lost his killer instinct, his willingness to win by any means necessary to reach the pinnacle of the mountain, his natural ability to damn near maim and mutilate himself if it meant he would be the top dog once again. He lost it, because, well…..
He forced HIM away.
HE was the sadism, the sheer brutality, the shadiness, the insanity, the barbed wire, the fearlessness, the innovation, the…the…
Hell, you get the idea. HE was everything.
Deep down inside, behind all the walls and fences he had built to keep HIM at bay, he knew that HE was the only one who could get them back to the apex of professional wrestling. If he really longed for the chance at being the measuring stick for all of those around him he would have to tear down the walls. He would have to cut holes in the links of the fences. He would basically have to give HIM an unimpeded path back into his life.
And that shit scared him to his core.
He was pretty much clinically insane anyway but allowing HIM, this other entity sharing his subconscious and unconscious mind, to have joint custody of his fleshy vessel was just plain old nuts.
And so, with that thought in mind, he took HIM to his local Wal-Mart and picked HIM out a nice new uniform skirt to wear.
It was nuts to let HIM have control again. “Nuts” was probably the understatement of the decade. Allowing a personality akin to such noted sociopaths as Jeffrey Dahmer and Charles Manson take over his body for intervals of time while having a say in any and everything he did after fighting just that for most of his adult life was reckless, dumb, and every other negative adjective you could come up with.
But he looked so damn great with ten to twenty pounds of hand-crafted gold and leather around his thick waist!
So, for the greater good (he hoped), they became a team once again, a dynamic duo, yin and yang, all for one goal: to once again stand at the top of the ladder as the recognized World Heavyweight Champion.
They had both sat down and put their collective minds together to concoct a series of steps, steps that would get them with each passing week closer to the one thing they both lusted for – the Action Packed Wrestling World Heavyweight Championship. In order to satiate their lust the two of them would have to first get through the Test for the Best Tournament and the weeks leading to it undefeated. If they could pull that off they would both be guaranteed the opportunity to quell their lustful gazes. HE painstakingly studied any and all opposing forces, noting their poker faces and execution of key maneuvers to better prepare them for any combat situations that might arise in the coming months. While HE worked on strengthening their mental shell he worked on strengthening their physical shell, tightening the ligaments and muscles in their surgically-repaired left leg to give them optimum leverage for any moves they might want to assimilate into their arsenal. And assimilate they did, watching hour upon hour of professional wrestling tapes and DVDs from every corner of the globe and logging as many counters and grapples into their photographic memory as they could to ensure they would be ready….
Ready for step one.
Step one was getting past their Test for the Best quarterfinal opponent, the insane masked luchadora known simply as Arcadia. It wasn’t exactly the easiest match they had ever fought but they were just getting back together again so there were some cobwebs to shake out and some wrinkles to iron out and she was a bit craftier than they thought and...and…
Who gives a damn about all of that? They won! They had automatically ensured themselves a spot in the semifinals at the Test for the Best pay-per-view on June 29th and they were as happy as a pig in shit. Step one was done, gone, buried in the backyard like a deceased hamster. It was now on to step two – and boy was it a doozy. Step two itself was to win the Test for the Best. Step two, though, was the only step that had an addendum
Step two’s addendum was to remain undefeated until the pay-per-view.
HE felt that the best way to show they meant business was to win every match going into the pay-per-view. Not only would an unblemished record in singles competition give them a sense of invincibility it would also propel them into the semifinals with an incredible amount of momentum. HE wasn’t really worried about their ability to do this.
Why?
Well, they had remained untainted this far into their Action Packed Wrestling career. What could possibly derail them at this point?
A dangerous young woman named Tara Jacobs, that’s what.
A member of World Heavyweight Champion Kenneth Lambardo’s dreaded Church of Kaos, Jacobs was as unpredictable as she was loyal and they both knew that she would do anything to incapacitate any man, woman, or child trying to get close to what her leader had worked so painstakingly hard to acquire. They were inching closer and closer to Lambardo and they knew that, well, “Spirit” Tara Jacobs would be a cock blocker. Tara was also undefeated in singles competition, making the notion of fulfilling the first set of requirements and remaining unblemished a hard dream to envision. They allowed themselves to get slightly depressed for a moment at the idea of having to completely retool their steps, knowing for sure that a wrestler as well-versed in the art of violence as Tara Jacobs would be smart enough to scout her opponent and develop the proper game plan to vanquish their hopes. Then HE remembered the tapes. The tapes they had been watching since they restarted their partnership. Namely the Japan tapes.
And HE knew what move she would never see coming.
And, when June 9th rolled around and they suited up in their cleanest uniform to meet her in battle, they waited for the right moment. They waited for Tara Jacobs to think she had them down. They reluctantly let their head be driven into the cold metal of an audience barrier with an absolutely dangerous Flowing DDT. They sat outside the ring, knowing that she would never be satisfied with a count-out victory. They watched her through hazy eyes as she hopped out of the ring and came to retrieve them.
And then they tried to remove her head from her neck like a golf ball off of a tee with a right-armed Lariat.
HE was right – she never saw it coming. He had never used it before so she was unable to properly adapt for it. A few more Lariats and a well-timed School’s Out later and “Spirit” Tara Jacobs’ undefeated singles career had officially come to an emphatic end.
And, more importantly, step two’s addendum was that much closer to being completed.
They were still loss-free and fancy free. Once again, pigs in shit. One more singles contest before the Test for the Best event in St. Louis, Missouri and they would have effectively finished the step two’s side mission, freeing their mind to concentrate on step two itself while setting them up with a boatload of confidence going into the pay-per-view. Then President Jeff released the card for the June 16th episode of Action Packed Wrestling Overdrive.
HE found their match this week funny.
Fact of the matter is that it really wasn’t funny.
Why?
Because it had the potential to truly derail step two.
And it wouldn’t even be their fault…because it was a six-person tag team contest.
A goddamned six-person tag team contest.
Ironically enough, the men who called themselves Doctor Phate would possibly have to put their fate in the hands of two other men.
HE found it hysterical.
He….he wanted to throw up. It was an incredibly bad idea, he thought.
He saw it all falling apart. He saw them losing, and losing badly. He saw their invincibility being compromised because of someone else making a costly mistake. But then he saw who their opponents would be.
They BOTH found it hysterical after that.
Victor Brander, Austin Daniels, and themselves against Sabur, John Green, and Tony Blackwell.
Three men who didn’t get along, two of them who would be on opposite ends of the ring competing for a homemade “backyard” championship at Test for the Best and the third an Irish strongman in the midst of a losing streak whose best friend was a midget.
Was President Jeff serious?
Were they being Punked?
If so, where was Ashton Kutcher posted up at?
(What? HE thought Ashton had a cute butt. Don’t look at them like that!)
This contest was a godsend!
Their partners in this contest would be two men they had never faced in the middle of the ring but also had no particular beef with of any kind, their common bond being that they were all still within inches of winning the Test for the Best Tournament (although Brander put Daniels out of the tourney early, forcing Daniels to get to the semifinals the hard way). This match not only allowed them the opportunity to scout their potential semifinal opposition up close but it also gave them the chance to test themselves against someone that would be the closest thing to fighting the World Heavyweight Champion himself - -
A former Action Packed Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion.
John Green had the distinction of being the first-ever Action Packed Wrestling Champion. John Green also had the distinction of being the man arguably responsible for handing the reigns over to the evil Kenneth Lambardo and his Church of Kaos. John Green was two sides of the same coin, incredible success backed by incredible defeat, and they both wanted the chance to flip that damn coin and watch it land on its edge. A win over such a talented competitor would give them instant momentum going into the Test for the Best semifinals and would be the ultimate mindfuck to anyone that would oppose them in the coming weeks.
Oh, and beating Sabur and Tony Blackwell into the canvas would be awesome, too.
This match wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Sure, it wasn’t the singles contest that they had expected but even he agreed that it opened up a world of scouting opportunities mere days before step three.
What was step three?
Win the Test for the Best…
By any means necessary.
ANY.
HE found their match this week funny.
Shit – it WAS funny.
An expansive open field greets our eye as our scene comes into view, tall tanned grass swaying harshly in an early summer afternoon breeze. Burnt sienna coats the grass’ blades defiantly, a testament to the lack of hydration and the massive amount of sunlight they were forced to receive each day. Gargantuan forestry jut angrily out of the grassy plain and develop our background, gangly trees and overgrown shrubbery making a feeble attempt to blot out the UV and failing miserably. A quartet of knobby evergreens make up the largest portion of our backdrop, their bark riddled with damage from an unrelenting combination of termites, woodpeckers, and harsh conditions, stretch upward and across, laying deep shading at their feet. At the base of said trees lie a gaggle of small weedy patches and shrubs, branches unkempt, leaves nibbled by various insects and woodland creatures. To the far right of this gathering of declining plant life lies a pair of automobiles, both vehicles sporting extravagant detailing and paint jobs and amusingly standing out like a man with a knife in a gun fight in such a drab and demure environment. The auto furthest to our right appears to be European, its body design sleek yet boxed, its ebony surface beautifully accented with chrome trim and insignia. Twenty four inch rims bulge from the center of a quintet of white wall tires, four of said tire affixed to the vehicle’s two axles and the other affixed on a latch above the bumper as a suitable spare. A pair of Nevada license plates, one applied on the front bumper area and one placed in the rear of the automobile; the Mt. Charleston emblazoned plates catch a ray of sun and twinkle momentarily in the afternoon glow before subconsciously attracting our eye to the more cost-effective North American automobile sitting adjacent to its front passenger side door. The car is distinctly North American, a sedan or coupe of some nature, its rounded frame and bulbous headlights depicting all the trademarks of current “Big 3” automotive design concepts. Its grey-hued exterior stands in weak contrast to the plush interior seating, the manufacturer’s logo stitched into the headrests but barely discernable to the eye. Dual California license plates find themselves affixed to the head and fore of the affordable sedan, the shade of the nearby hanging timber partially blotting out our chance at a clear glance of each. As if on cue, as our eyes once again drift to the space between each automobile the driver side doors of each vehicle suddenly fly open, a slack-clad leg protruding from the inside of each metal and Plexiglas transport. A rather broad-shouldered gentleman steps out of the European chariot, a cream-colored dress shirt hugging the contours of his taut muscles as they seemingly attempt to escape their cotton prison. The tails of the aforementioned shirt find themselves unchecked and overlapping the waistline of the fellow’s pants, their midnight tones a stark contrast to their partner piece of clothing. As our gaze pans up the gentleman’s figure we finally bear witness to the man’s face, his right hand removing a pair of Gucci sunglasses and revealing a rough masculine visage replete with the age lines of a warrior and a nose sporting the appearance of multiple fractures. The frames removed, we adjust our own eyes to the sun and make out that this man is non other than Action Packed Wrestling superstar Austin Daniels, more appropriately known as “Ace”. The figure in the North American coach emerges, stealing our attention from Austin Daniels as we try to make out our second “guest”. The man slowly stands upright, his thick physique adorned in a pair of faded denim jeans. A black Action Packed Wrestling Overdrive logo t-shirt snugly coats his athletic upper body, its hems and stitching straining against tight shoulders and pectorals. After admiring the build of this biped our eyes travel upward and focus in on the gentleman’s strikingly handsome features, allowing us to make out exactly who he is: Action Packed Wrestling’s resident lone wolf, Victor Brander. Taking a brief moment to stretch out his limbs after the long trip to his current position, Brander’s eyes catch those of Austin Daniels, prompting both men to shut their car doors and meet in the front of said vehicles with great trepidation in their steps.[/size]
Brander (relaxed tone; addressing Daniels; extending right hand): Great seeing you again, Austin.
Daniels (annoyed tone; staring at Daniels’ extended hand; addressing Daniels): Yeah. Sure. You too. I’m guessing you’re here for the same reason I am?
Brander (pulling back his hand; calm tone but annoyed demeanor; addressing Daniels): I…believe so. Call from Doctor Phate?
Daniels (addressing Brander; casual tone): Call from Doctor Phate. Any idea what he wants?
Brander (addressing Daniels; calm tone): Not at all. Any idea why he wanted to meet out here?
Daniels (addressing Brander; casual tone): Nope.
With that said both gentlemen stop talking and begin waiting for their host (hostess?), standing awkwardly in front of their vehicles while avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Austin Daniels removes a deck of Bicycle Playing Cards from his right hip pocket and begins expertly shuffling the fifty two colored rectangles; the noise of the thin cardboard pictures aiding Daniels in his pursuit of acting like his tag partner for this week isn’t there. Seconds tick away, both men remaining fairly silent, until an annoyed Victor Brander clears his throat as loud as he possibly can. This blatant attention-grabbing maneuver instantly attracts an annoyed glance from Austin Daniels, who looks prepared to snap at a moment’s notice.
Daniels (glaring at Brander; addressing Brander; annoyed tone): Something I can do for you?
Brander (addressing Daniels; calm tone): Yes there is, actually. You can look me in the eye and admit that you have a slight problem with teaming up with the man that put you out of the Test for the Best Tournament instead of acting like I don’t exist by shuffling cards.
Daniels (looking downward; halts his card shuffling; addressing Brander; amused tone): Excuse me?
Brander (walking closer to Daniels; calm tone; addressing Daniels): You can look me in the eye and admit that you have a slight prob - -
Daniels (tossing card to the ground; turning to face Brander; annoyed tone; angry demeanor): I HAVE no problem with you, buddy. You might have won our match…but that didn’t stop me from STILL making it to the second round of the Tournament. If anything you winning our first go ‘round just makes me kicking your ass and winning Test for the Best at your expense that much sweeter!
Brander (walking closer to Daniels; slightly amused; addressing Daniels): Kicking my ass?
Daniels (walking right up to Brander; cocky demeanor; staring Brander right in the eyes): If I were you that’s a bet I would go all-in on….Vickie.
The two men seem ready to escalate their words to all-out fisticuffs, both standing with fist clenched tight and darts shooting from their eyes…until a rather unsettling sight catches the attention of both ring warriors from the corners of their eyes. Both Victor Brander and Austin Daniels stop in their tracks, slowly turning their heads toward the odd sight…and both instantly feel a sense of amusement…and that uncomfortable feeling one gets in their stomach when something eerie comes within the vicinity. Our gaze quickly switches from our two “guests” and follows their eyes, landing on exactly what disrupted their attention and filling us with the same feelings they exhibit: amusement and a sick stomach. The figure before us is of a caramel complexion, its thick figure lightly muscled yet visibly powerful and sensually attired in a black one-piece swim suit with a puffy white cottontail glued neatly in the center of their rear end. Athletic thighs and fishnet stockings make their way into the ankle holes of a pair of black knee-high leather boots, slightly heeled and completely provocative. As out eyes drift upward we can see a pair of white wrist cuffs attached to the person’s large wrists, similar to the cuffs of a casual dress shirt and fastened tightly with a pair of onyx Playboy bunny cufflinks. A shirt collar without a shirt sits around the person’s muscled neck, a crimson bow tie tied snugly in place in the center of the collar. Our eyes move even more upward, clamoring for a look at the face of this sexual creature – and meeting the mischievous smirk of none other than “The Icon” Doctor Phate! His five o’clock shadow peppering his jaw line, Phate takes a second to push his black horn-rimmed spectacles back up the bridge of his nose before winking at the two men before him! A pair of white and carnation-colored cotton bunny ears find themselves snapped nicely atop Phate’s head, finishing his ensemble! Daniels and Brander are both taken aback, both unsure of how to address such a freaky turn of events!
Brander (staring at Phate; not sure what to say; taken aback; addressing Phate): Uhm….you - - you - -
Daniels (covering his eyes; addressing Phate; confused tone): What in the hell - - ?!?!
Phate (smiling cheekily; trying to look cute; addressing Daniels and Brander; amused tone): I was frolicking wit’ Pooh and Tigger!! I had t’kill a little time - you two gentlemen were vewy, vewy late!
Brander (annoyed tone; addressing Phate; trying not to make eye contact with Phate): Well, this place isn’t exactly on Mapquest….
Daniels (covering his eyes; addressing Brander; confused tone): Damn that, man! (covering his eyes; addressing Brander; confused tone) “Frolicking with Pooh and Tigger”?!?!
Phate (winking at Daniels; amused tone; mimicking Mae West): Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, big boy!
Brander (annoyed tone; addressing Phate; trying not to make eye contact with Phate): Wha – What did you call us out here for, Phate? Hopefully not to “frolic”. I DON’T FROLIC.
Phate (amused tone; addressing Brander): Of course not, silly head! I called you both out here t’show you jus’ what happened before I walked up - - that there’s some issues between th’ two of you that you need t’set aside before this Monday’s Overdrive! Fact of th’ matter is that no matter how we got into th’ semis of the Test for the Best we are all STILL in th’ Test for the Best!
Daniels (covering his eyes; addressing Brander; quizzical tone): Your point?
Phate (amused tone; addressing Daniels): My point is two-fold! Point one is that there’s no need fer us t’fight amongst each other! Let th’ other team do that – it’s full of hotheads anyway! And besides Tony Blackwell has bad blood wit’ John Green AND Sabur so I don’t exactly see them wrasslin’ as a team! Why stoop to that level with them? All we gotta do Monday night is work together long enough t’win the six-man tag team match and we can all go our sep’rate ways an’ focus on nothin’ but the tourney!
Brander (quizzical tone; addressing Phate; trying not to make eye contact with Phate): Your second point being…?
Phate (addressing Brander; cutesy voice; amused tone): My second point is that I look GREAT in these boots! Check out these lines an' eat yer heart out, baby!
Brander (creeped out; staring at Phate; addressing Daniels): ….Phate has a point.
Daniels (annoyed tone; addressing Brander): Are you serious? He does NOT look great in those boots!
Brander (agitated; addressing Daniels): The first point!!!
Daniels (agreeing with Brander; nodding his head; addressing Brander): OH! Yeah. No need to fight among ourselves and risk injury when we’re all on the same level right now. I can hold off until Test for the Best.
Brander (addressing Daniels; calm tone): Agreed. We'll take care of our own personal business then and only then.
Phate (grinning from ear to ear; clapping giddily; addressing both Brander and Daniels): Splendid! I’m glad we can see eye to eye on dis – or at least th’ first point! (Addressing Daniels; catty tone) And ferget you, “Ace” – you know I look good!
Daniels (creeped out; addressing Phate): Yeeaaaah. Sure. (looking at his wrist watch; slightly erratic tone) Lookit the time. I’ve gotta go.....
Brander (catching on to what Daniels is doing; following suit; addressing Phate): Me too! Me too!
Phate (oblivious to Brander and Daniels exit tactics; grinning): Cool! Well, I sent both o’ you guys some email videos of our opponents an’ their strengths and weaknesses so study up an’ I’ll see ya Monday! Glad we could agree t’put all th’ animosity aside for th’ betterment of us all! That was WAY easier than I thought it would be! (Blowing a kiss at Brander and Daniels before turning and bunny hopping into the forest; amused tone) Toodles!
Brander (addressing the departing Phate; confused tone): Toodles…? (Addressing Daniels) Did we just meet a black man in a Playboy Bunny outfit in the forest to call a truce? Or did I just dream this up?
Daniels (addressing Brander; confused): I’m not sure…but all I know is that he had better have sent us wrestling videos and wrestling vides only because if he didn’t I’ll - - (sighing; addressing Brander) My eyes hurt. I need a drink.
Brander (agreeing with Daniels): That….sounds like a very sound decision. I think I’m going to go home and do the same. See you Monday.
Daniels (addressing Brander; calm tone): Monday.
Our scene ends with Brander and Daniels talking on the way to their vehicles before re-entering their vessels and pulling off in a cloud of dust and exhaust. Our eyes follow the exhaust lines for the pipes to the air, watching as they dissipate…and allowing our eye to catch a very sadistic and toothy ivory smile emanating from the nearby forest accompanied by a rather cute pair of white and carnation-colored cotton bunny ears.
Step two was staying true.
Step one was already won.
Now what to do about two?
HE found their match this week funny.
Fact of the matter is that it really wasn’t funny.
Why?
Because it had the potential to truly derail step two.
And it wouldn’t even be their fault.
Step two? What?
Don’t scratch your head – they’ll start from the beginning.
RECAP!!
He had impressed Action Packed Wrestling’s management enough within his first month in the organization on his own to garner himself a berth in the first-ever Test for the Best Tournament. The winner of the tournament would get quite the prestigious prize – a World Heavyweight Championship match at the company’s Shockwave pay-per-view in late-August. A spot in such a career-defining tourney, on the other hand, was NOT guaranteed, and it took an unblemished record and great showings against But as successful as he had been thus far during his tenure in APW he also knew that as mentally strong as he was in the squared circle that even his mind wasn’t powerful enough to look at things from every angle and develop a near-flawless plan of action. HE sensed it….HE knew that he was needed arguably now more than ever.
And HE forced himself back into his life.
It was subtle enough - - a subconsciously well-timed School’s Out Stunner against the recently-released JZ during a May 19th singles contest, just to make HIS presence known…just to show him how much he needed HIS assistance again. As soon as he realized what had transpired in the ring he immediately holed himself away, refusing to field any phone calls or even step foot outside of his home in Portland, Oregon. He didn’t want HIM back. He had done so well over the least year of his life without HIS presence and he damn sure didn’t feel he needed it now. He had found a happy balance…
Even if that balance hadn’t translated into any singles championships in quite some time.
Sure he had held tag team championships and achieved incredible tem success over the last year with a menagerie of partners but success on his own had somehow alluded him with ever turn of the corner. He had told himself that these things happen in every professional wrestler’s career, that every athlete puts his own solo aspirations on hold to help propel others to a higher echelon. And…and…
He knew that was complete rubbish.
He hadn’t achieved singular success because he had lost his killer instinct, his willingness to win by any means necessary to reach the pinnacle of the mountain, his natural ability to damn near maim and mutilate himself if it meant he would be the top dog once again. He lost it, because, well…..
He forced HIM away.
HE was the sadism, the sheer brutality, the shadiness, the insanity, the barbed wire, the fearlessness, the innovation, the…the…
Hell, you get the idea. HE was everything.
Deep down inside, behind all the walls and fences he had built to keep HIM at bay, he knew that HE was the only one who could get them back to the apex of professional wrestling. If he really longed for the chance at being the measuring stick for all of those around him he would have to tear down the walls. He would have to cut holes in the links of the fences. He would basically have to give HIM an unimpeded path back into his life.
And that shit scared him to his core.
He was pretty much clinically insane anyway but allowing HIM, this other entity sharing his subconscious and unconscious mind, to have joint custody of his fleshy vessel was just plain old nuts.
And so, with that thought in mind, he took HIM to his local Wal-Mart and picked HIM out a nice new uniform skirt to wear.
It was nuts to let HIM have control again. “Nuts” was probably the understatement of the decade. Allowing a personality akin to such noted sociopaths as Jeffrey Dahmer and Charles Manson take over his body for intervals of time while having a say in any and everything he did after fighting just that for most of his adult life was reckless, dumb, and every other negative adjective you could come up with.
But he looked so damn great with ten to twenty pounds of hand-crafted gold and leather around his thick waist!
So, for the greater good (he hoped), they became a team once again, a dynamic duo, yin and yang, all for one goal: to once again stand at the top of the ladder as the recognized World Heavyweight Champion.
They had both sat down and put their collective minds together to concoct a series of steps, steps that would get them with each passing week closer to the one thing they both lusted for – the Action Packed Wrestling World Heavyweight Championship. In order to satiate their lust the two of them would have to first get through the Test for the Best Tournament and the weeks leading to it undefeated. If they could pull that off they would both be guaranteed the opportunity to quell their lustful gazes. HE painstakingly studied any and all opposing forces, noting their poker faces and execution of key maneuvers to better prepare them for any combat situations that might arise in the coming months. While HE worked on strengthening their mental shell he worked on strengthening their physical shell, tightening the ligaments and muscles in their surgically-repaired left leg to give them optimum leverage for any moves they might want to assimilate into their arsenal. And assimilate they did, watching hour upon hour of professional wrestling tapes and DVDs from every corner of the globe and logging as many counters and grapples into their photographic memory as they could to ensure they would be ready….
Ready for step one.
Step one was getting past their Test for the Best quarterfinal opponent, the insane masked luchadora known simply as Arcadia. It wasn’t exactly the easiest match they had ever fought but they were just getting back together again so there were some cobwebs to shake out and some wrinkles to iron out and she was a bit craftier than they thought and...and…
Who gives a damn about all of that? They won! They had automatically ensured themselves a spot in the semifinals at the Test for the Best pay-per-view on June 29th and they were as happy as a pig in shit. Step one was done, gone, buried in the backyard like a deceased hamster. It was now on to step two – and boy was it a doozy. Step two itself was to win the Test for the Best. Step two, though, was the only step that had an addendum
Step two’s addendum was to remain undefeated until the pay-per-view.
HE felt that the best way to show they meant business was to win every match going into the pay-per-view. Not only would an unblemished record in singles competition give them a sense of invincibility it would also propel them into the semifinals with an incredible amount of momentum. HE wasn’t really worried about their ability to do this.
Why?
Well, they had remained untainted this far into their Action Packed Wrestling career. What could possibly derail them at this point?
A dangerous young woman named Tara Jacobs, that’s what.
A member of World Heavyweight Champion Kenneth Lambardo’s dreaded Church of Kaos, Jacobs was as unpredictable as she was loyal and they both knew that she would do anything to incapacitate any man, woman, or child trying to get close to what her leader had worked so painstakingly hard to acquire. They were inching closer and closer to Lambardo and they knew that, well, “Spirit” Tara Jacobs would be a cock blocker. Tara was also undefeated in singles competition, making the notion of fulfilling the first set of requirements and remaining unblemished a hard dream to envision. They allowed themselves to get slightly depressed for a moment at the idea of having to completely retool their steps, knowing for sure that a wrestler as well-versed in the art of violence as Tara Jacobs would be smart enough to scout her opponent and develop the proper game plan to vanquish their hopes. Then HE remembered the tapes. The tapes they had been watching since they restarted their partnership. Namely the Japan tapes.
And HE knew what move she would never see coming.
And, when June 9th rolled around and they suited up in their cleanest uniform to meet her in battle, they waited for the right moment. They waited for Tara Jacobs to think she had them down. They reluctantly let their head be driven into the cold metal of an audience barrier with an absolutely dangerous Flowing DDT. They sat outside the ring, knowing that she would never be satisfied with a count-out victory. They watched her through hazy eyes as she hopped out of the ring and came to retrieve them.
And then they tried to remove her head from her neck like a golf ball off of a tee with a right-armed Lariat.
HE was right – she never saw it coming. He had never used it before so she was unable to properly adapt for it. A few more Lariats and a well-timed School’s Out later and “Spirit” Tara Jacobs’ undefeated singles career had officially come to an emphatic end.
And, more importantly, step two’s addendum was that much closer to being completed.
They were still loss-free and fancy free. Once again, pigs in shit. One more singles contest before the Test for the Best event in St. Louis, Missouri and they would have effectively finished the step two’s side mission, freeing their mind to concentrate on step two itself while setting them up with a boatload of confidence going into the pay-per-view. Then President Jeff released the card for the June 16th episode of Action Packed Wrestling Overdrive.
HE found their match this week funny.
Fact of the matter is that it really wasn’t funny.
Why?
Because it had the potential to truly derail step two.
And it wouldn’t even be their fault…because it was a six-person tag team contest.
A goddamned six-person tag team contest.
Ironically enough, the men who called themselves Doctor Phate would possibly have to put their fate in the hands of two other men.
HE found it hysterical.
He….he wanted to throw up. It was an incredibly bad idea, he thought.
He saw it all falling apart. He saw them losing, and losing badly. He saw their invincibility being compromised because of someone else making a costly mistake. But then he saw who their opponents would be.
They BOTH found it hysterical after that.
Victor Brander, Austin Daniels, and themselves against Sabur, John Green, and Tony Blackwell.
Three men who didn’t get along, two of them who would be on opposite ends of the ring competing for a homemade “backyard” championship at Test for the Best and the third an Irish strongman in the midst of a losing streak whose best friend was a midget.
Was President Jeff serious?
Were they being Punked?
If so, where was Ashton Kutcher posted up at?
(What? HE thought Ashton had a cute butt. Don’t look at them like that!)
This contest was a godsend!
Their partners in this contest would be two men they had never faced in the middle of the ring but also had no particular beef with of any kind, their common bond being that they were all still within inches of winning the Test for the Best Tournament (although Brander put Daniels out of the tourney early, forcing Daniels to get to the semifinals the hard way). This match not only allowed them the opportunity to scout their potential semifinal opposition up close but it also gave them the chance to test themselves against someone that would be the closest thing to fighting the World Heavyweight Champion himself - -
A former Action Packed Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion.
John Green had the distinction of being the first-ever Action Packed Wrestling Champion. John Green also had the distinction of being the man arguably responsible for handing the reigns over to the evil Kenneth Lambardo and his Church of Kaos. John Green was two sides of the same coin, incredible success backed by incredible defeat, and they both wanted the chance to flip that damn coin and watch it land on its edge. A win over such a talented competitor would give them instant momentum going into the Test for the Best semifinals and would be the ultimate mindfuck to anyone that would oppose them in the coming weeks.
Oh, and beating Sabur and Tony Blackwell into the canvas would be awesome, too.
This match wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Sure, it wasn’t the singles contest that they had expected but even he agreed that it opened up a world of scouting opportunities mere days before step three.
What was step three?
Win the Test for the Best…
By any means necessary.
ANY.
HE found their match this week funny.
Shit – it WAS funny.
_____________________________________________________
An expansive open field greets our eye as our scene comes into view, tall tanned grass swaying harshly in an early summer afternoon breeze. Burnt sienna coats the grass’ blades defiantly, a testament to the lack of hydration and the massive amount of sunlight they were forced to receive each day. Gargantuan forestry jut angrily out of the grassy plain and develop our background, gangly trees and overgrown shrubbery making a feeble attempt to blot out the UV and failing miserably. A quartet of knobby evergreens make up the largest portion of our backdrop, their bark riddled with damage from an unrelenting combination of termites, woodpeckers, and harsh conditions, stretch upward and across, laying deep shading at their feet. At the base of said trees lie a gaggle of small weedy patches and shrubs, branches unkempt, leaves nibbled by various insects and woodland creatures. To the far right of this gathering of declining plant life lies a pair of automobiles, both vehicles sporting extravagant detailing and paint jobs and amusingly standing out like a man with a knife in a gun fight in such a drab and demure environment. The auto furthest to our right appears to be European, its body design sleek yet boxed, its ebony surface beautifully accented with chrome trim and insignia. Twenty four inch rims bulge from the center of a quintet of white wall tires, four of said tire affixed to the vehicle’s two axles and the other affixed on a latch above the bumper as a suitable spare. A pair of Nevada license plates, one applied on the front bumper area and one placed in the rear of the automobile; the Mt. Charleston emblazoned plates catch a ray of sun and twinkle momentarily in the afternoon glow before subconsciously attracting our eye to the more cost-effective North American automobile sitting adjacent to its front passenger side door. The car is distinctly North American, a sedan or coupe of some nature, its rounded frame and bulbous headlights depicting all the trademarks of current “Big 3” automotive design concepts. Its grey-hued exterior stands in weak contrast to the plush interior seating, the manufacturer’s logo stitched into the headrests but barely discernable to the eye. Dual California license plates find themselves affixed to the head and fore of the affordable sedan, the shade of the nearby hanging timber partially blotting out our chance at a clear glance of each. As if on cue, as our eyes once again drift to the space between each automobile the driver side doors of each vehicle suddenly fly open, a slack-clad leg protruding from the inside of each metal and Plexiglas transport. A rather broad-shouldered gentleman steps out of the European chariot, a cream-colored dress shirt hugging the contours of his taut muscles as they seemingly attempt to escape their cotton prison. The tails of the aforementioned shirt find themselves unchecked and overlapping the waistline of the fellow’s pants, their midnight tones a stark contrast to their partner piece of clothing. As our gaze pans up the gentleman’s figure we finally bear witness to the man’s face, his right hand removing a pair of Gucci sunglasses and revealing a rough masculine visage replete with the age lines of a warrior and a nose sporting the appearance of multiple fractures. The frames removed, we adjust our own eyes to the sun and make out that this man is non other than Action Packed Wrestling superstar Austin Daniels, more appropriately known as “Ace”. The figure in the North American coach emerges, stealing our attention from Austin Daniels as we try to make out our second “guest”. The man slowly stands upright, his thick physique adorned in a pair of faded denim jeans. A black Action Packed Wrestling Overdrive logo t-shirt snugly coats his athletic upper body, its hems and stitching straining against tight shoulders and pectorals. After admiring the build of this biped our eyes travel upward and focus in on the gentleman’s strikingly handsome features, allowing us to make out exactly who he is: Action Packed Wrestling’s resident lone wolf, Victor Brander. Taking a brief moment to stretch out his limbs after the long trip to his current position, Brander’s eyes catch those of Austin Daniels, prompting both men to shut their car doors and meet in the front of said vehicles with great trepidation in their steps.[/size]
Brander (relaxed tone; addressing Daniels; extending right hand): Great seeing you again, Austin.
Daniels (annoyed tone; staring at Daniels’ extended hand; addressing Daniels): Yeah. Sure. You too. I’m guessing you’re here for the same reason I am?
Brander (pulling back his hand; calm tone but annoyed demeanor; addressing Daniels): I…believe so. Call from Doctor Phate?
Daniels (addressing Brander; casual tone): Call from Doctor Phate. Any idea what he wants?
Brander (addressing Daniels; calm tone): Not at all. Any idea why he wanted to meet out here?
Daniels (addressing Brander; casual tone): Nope.
With that said both gentlemen stop talking and begin waiting for their host (hostess?), standing awkwardly in front of their vehicles while avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Austin Daniels removes a deck of Bicycle Playing Cards from his right hip pocket and begins expertly shuffling the fifty two colored rectangles; the noise of the thin cardboard pictures aiding Daniels in his pursuit of acting like his tag partner for this week isn’t there. Seconds tick away, both men remaining fairly silent, until an annoyed Victor Brander clears his throat as loud as he possibly can. This blatant attention-grabbing maneuver instantly attracts an annoyed glance from Austin Daniels, who looks prepared to snap at a moment’s notice.
Daniels (glaring at Brander; addressing Brander; annoyed tone): Something I can do for you?
Brander (addressing Daniels; calm tone): Yes there is, actually. You can look me in the eye and admit that you have a slight problem with teaming up with the man that put you out of the Test for the Best Tournament instead of acting like I don’t exist by shuffling cards.
Daniels (looking downward; halts his card shuffling; addressing Brander; amused tone): Excuse me?
Brander (walking closer to Daniels; calm tone; addressing Daniels): You can look me in the eye and admit that you have a slight prob - -
Daniels (tossing card to the ground; turning to face Brander; annoyed tone; angry demeanor): I HAVE no problem with you, buddy. You might have won our match…but that didn’t stop me from STILL making it to the second round of the Tournament. If anything you winning our first go ‘round just makes me kicking your ass and winning Test for the Best at your expense that much sweeter!
Brander (walking closer to Daniels; slightly amused; addressing Daniels): Kicking my ass?
Daniels (walking right up to Brander; cocky demeanor; staring Brander right in the eyes): If I were you that’s a bet I would go all-in on….Vickie.
The two men seem ready to escalate their words to all-out fisticuffs, both standing with fist clenched tight and darts shooting from their eyes…until a rather unsettling sight catches the attention of both ring warriors from the corners of their eyes. Both Victor Brander and Austin Daniels stop in their tracks, slowly turning their heads toward the odd sight…and both instantly feel a sense of amusement…and that uncomfortable feeling one gets in their stomach when something eerie comes within the vicinity. Our gaze quickly switches from our two “guests” and follows their eyes, landing on exactly what disrupted their attention and filling us with the same feelings they exhibit: amusement and a sick stomach. The figure before us is of a caramel complexion, its thick figure lightly muscled yet visibly powerful and sensually attired in a black one-piece swim suit with a puffy white cottontail glued neatly in the center of their rear end. Athletic thighs and fishnet stockings make their way into the ankle holes of a pair of black knee-high leather boots, slightly heeled and completely provocative. As out eyes drift upward we can see a pair of white wrist cuffs attached to the person’s large wrists, similar to the cuffs of a casual dress shirt and fastened tightly with a pair of onyx Playboy bunny cufflinks. A shirt collar without a shirt sits around the person’s muscled neck, a crimson bow tie tied snugly in place in the center of the collar. Our eyes move even more upward, clamoring for a look at the face of this sexual creature – and meeting the mischievous smirk of none other than “The Icon” Doctor Phate! His five o’clock shadow peppering his jaw line, Phate takes a second to push his black horn-rimmed spectacles back up the bridge of his nose before winking at the two men before him! A pair of white and carnation-colored cotton bunny ears find themselves snapped nicely atop Phate’s head, finishing his ensemble! Daniels and Brander are both taken aback, both unsure of how to address such a freaky turn of events!
Brander (staring at Phate; not sure what to say; taken aback; addressing Phate): Uhm….you - - you - -
Daniels (covering his eyes; addressing Phate; confused tone): What in the hell - - ?!?!
Phate (smiling cheekily; trying to look cute; addressing Daniels and Brander; amused tone): I was frolicking wit’ Pooh and Tigger!! I had t’kill a little time - you two gentlemen were vewy, vewy late!
Brander (annoyed tone; addressing Phate; trying not to make eye contact with Phate): Well, this place isn’t exactly on Mapquest….
Daniels (covering his eyes; addressing Brander; confused tone): Damn that, man! (covering his eyes; addressing Brander; confused tone) “Frolicking with Pooh and Tigger”?!?!
Phate (winking at Daniels; amused tone; mimicking Mae West): Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, big boy!
Brander (annoyed tone; addressing Phate; trying not to make eye contact with Phate): Wha – What did you call us out here for, Phate? Hopefully not to “frolic”. I DON’T FROLIC.
Phate (amused tone; addressing Brander): Of course not, silly head! I called you both out here t’show you jus’ what happened before I walked up - - that there’s some issues between th’ two of you that you need t’set aside before this Monday’s Overdrive! Fact of th’ matter is that no matter how we got into th’ semis of the Test for the Best we are all STILL in th’ Test for the Best!
Daniels (covering his eyes; addressing Brander; quizzical tone): Your point?
Phate (amused tone; addressing Daniels): My point is two-fold! Point one is that there’s no need fer us t’fight amongst each other! Let th’ other team do that – it’s full of hotheads anyway! And besides Tony Blackwell has bad blood wit’ John Green AND Sabur so I don’t exactly see them wrasslin’ as a team! Why stoop to that level with them? All we gotta do Monday night is work together long enough t’win the six-man tag team match and we can all go our sep’rate ways an’ focus on nothin’ but the tourney!
Brander (quizzical tone; addressing Phate; trying not to make eye contact with Phate): Your second point being…?
Phate (addressing Brander; cutesy voice; amused tone): My second point is that I look GREAT in these boots! Check out these lines an' eat yer heart out, baby!
Brander (creeped out; staring at Phate; addressing Daniels): ….Phate has a point.
Daniels (annoyed tone; addressing Brander): Are you serious? He does NOT look great in those boots!
Brander (agitated; addressing Daniels): The first point!!!
Daniels (agreeing with Brander; nodding his head; addressing Brander): OH! Yeah. No need to fight among ourselves and risk injury when we’re all on the same level right now. I can hold off until Test for the Best.
Brander (addressing Daniels; calm tone): Agreed. We'll take care of our own personal business then and only then.
Phate (grinning from ear to ear; clapping giddily; addressing both Brander and Daniels): Splendid! I’m glad we can see eye to eye on dis – or at least th’ first point! (Addressing Daniels; catty tone) And ferget you, “Ace” – you know I look good!
Daniels (creeped out; addressing Phate): Yeeaaaah. Sure. (looking at his wrist watch; slightly erratic tone) Lookit the time. I’ve gotta go.....
Brander (catching on to what Daniels is doing; following suit; addressing Phate): Me too! Me too!
Phate (oblivious to Brander and Daniels exit tactics; grinning): Cool! Well, I sent both o’ you guys some email videos of our opponents an’ their strengths and weaknesses so study up an’ I’ll see ya Monday! Glad we could agree t’put all th’ animosity aside for th’ betterment of us all! That was WAY easier than I thought it would be! (Blowing a kiss at Brander and Daniels before turning and bunny hopping into the forest; amused tone) Toodles!
Brander (addressing the departing Phate; confused tone): Toodles…? (Addressing Daniels) Did we just meet a black man in a Playboy Bunny outfit in the forest to call a truce? Or did I just dream this up?
Daniels (addressing Brander; confused): I’m not sure…but all I know is that he had better have sent us wrestling videos and wrestling vides only because if he didn’t I’ll - - (sighing; addressing Brander) My eyes hurt. I need a drink.
Brander (agreeing with Daniels): That….sounds like a very sound decision. I think I’m going to go home and do the same. See you Monday.
Daniels (addressing Brander; calm tone): Monday.
Our scene ends with Brander and Daniels talking on the way to their vehicles before re-entering their vessels and pulling off in a cloud of dust and exhaust. Our eyes follow the exhaust lines for the pipes to the air, watching as they dissipate…and allowing our eye to catch a very sadistic and toothy ivory smile emanating from the nearby forest accompanied by a rather cute pair of white and carnation-colored cotton bunny ears.
---------- fade to black ----------
