Post by "The Hottest Shit Going" on Jul 22, 2009 20:09:52 GMT -4
Training to Fight A Bear
Grunts and pounding thunder into the air as men stomp their feet and crash around the canvass of a wrestling ring. The scene clears bringing your vision to the sight of Michael Lively center ring with three larger men standing around the ropes. The self proclaimed savior of wrestling hits the one side of the rings bouncing of the rope to get some momentum. He sprints toward one of the rather larger men who whips a big boot in the air. Lively quickly spots the boot coming and his lighting fast reflexes kick in as he drops down kicking the planted leg of the larger man. The big man doubles down to the mat as he clutches his hyper extended knee. Michael Lively rapidly snags a hold of the man’s leg locking it in a clover leaf sub mission, forcing the big man to tap fairly fast.
The JESUS springs to his feet, turning toward the next large fellow who has already made his way toward Lively. He begins to pound at Lively with a large sloppy brawling technique. Michael ducks away from one of the big fists, as he responds to the big man’s strike with a kick to the mid-section. Lively then begins to fire off a blend of his own furious fists. Backs up to whip a super kick in the man’s face. His foot is caught by the big man causing Lively to hop up and down trying to keep his balance on one foot. The big man spins the JESUS around as he throws aside the foot. Soon as Lively comes fully around the big man’s hand is solidly clutched around the neck of the Hottest Shit Going. Michael is then hoisted into the air for a choke slam, and with the strength of his hips he wraps his legs around the man’s arm causing the death grip to come loose. The two topple to the ground as Lively sinks in a nasty arm bar on the big man who taps from the pain.
The JESUS's chest puffs in and out as his body tries to fill itself with oxygen. The two big men roll under the bottom rope leaving Lively alone with the last big man. The JESUS stands looking toward his last round of training. The man seems to be a beast of a man, towering over the former world champion Michael Lively. He then charges Lively who still seems to be taking a moment for breath intake. A large charging clothesline is coming right at Lively who at the last second rolls to freedom. The big man’s chest collides with the corner turn buckles as the White Lion recoils to his feet just for a second to launch himself into the air. He inverts his body and gives a nasty drop kick to the back of the big mans head forcing it forward to connect with the metal turn buckle strap. He stagers backward as Lively positions himself, then lets loose a Pele Kick sending the man to the ground. Michael climbs through the ropes ascending to the top in a flash. He leaps out nailing his shooting star leg drop known as the Prelude on his downed training partner. Anyone in the know realizes that is all it takes to finish the match, and Lively stands up. He looks out of the ring toward his mother who has been sitting in a chair reading her newest installment of Cosmo. The JESUS clears his throat, and his mother not missing a beat reaches into a cooler yanking out a bottle of Gatorade. In a typical Stone Cold tribute she tosses it into the ring as the JESUS catches it ever so perfectly. With a twist of the cap he quenches his thirst. Ms. Lively puts down the magazine, and stands.
Ms. Lively: Are we finished here...I mean really.
Lively: Well it looks like it. I seriously thought it would have taken me a little longer. I mean I haven't shut down a huge man inside the ring in a few months. Martin J. Singer was the last big man I defeated, and he wasn't a muscle bound power house like these guys, more of a sloppy, loose, and puffy heavyweight.
Ms. Lively: What’s the point Michael; you still don't have a contract. Why would you train as if you were going to get back in the ring.
Lively: Well it seems that Jeff has booked me in a match. I'm not covered under their insurance, or sanctioned to fight under their banner, so whatever happens to me is on ME! He has put me in the ring against one huge son of a bitch; the current Overdrive Champion, Shadow, who is unbeaten in singles competition. How fitting, the title I put on the map, a title I made famous, the current champion is one piece of the puzzle to my return.
Ms. Lively: You think by beating him you will get a contract.
Lively: It's a start. You see mother...Jeff thinks this guy is going to destroy me. He thinks this large freak of nature has what it takes to put down the JESUS. Tony Blackwell couldn't do it, Sabur couldn't do it, and this dumb fuck stick doesn't have the nut sack to pull it off either. Many men have stepped in front of me with bad intentions. They had hopes of driving the nail in my coffin. They had dreams of shutting this ever running mouth. The sad fucking truth slapped every one of them right in the face...you can't stop the JESUS. I'm simply unstoppable, unflappable, and untouchable. Seriously mother look at my track record...the only person that I have had trouble with, haven't been able to overcome is Level One.
Ms. Lively: Ohh..we can say that name around you once again.
Lively: NO...I'm the only one who can say it. I guess I have grown a little, let the ego subside for only a second to let it sink in. There is no shame in losing to Level One. He is world renowned for a reason. He has taken home titles all over the world, beaten so many. The man is truly wrestling royalty, a member of the Elite. It doesn't mean I can't get the better of him, it just means on that night he was the better man. I'm fucking rambling on mother...(she rolls her eyes as if it was a surprise the JESUS would ramble on). The point was there is no shame in losing to Level One, but losing to Shadow...that’s a fucking embarrassment. Mr. Steve Ryback is going to be in for a surprise. He is going to realize that I am no ordinary wrestler. No ordinary average sized slacker that he can toss around. My name isn't Mr. Strange.
Ms. Lively: Who is Steve Ryback, and what is a Mr. Strange...they sound like comic book characters.
Lively: And Michael Lively is your average name? Never mind, listen Steve Ryback is the name of Shadow...
Ms. Lively: Great another arrogant bastard with ten nicknames...The Hottest Shade Going, The self proclaimed Shader of wrestling, and the...
***CRACK***
As Ms. Lively ran her mouth making fun of her sons many nicknames he had slithered out of the ring very softly. Just as she turned around to spit out another insult, the JESUS planted a seriously firm super kick right in her face laying her flat on her back to absorb the cold dampness of the concrete below. He then grabs a towel from the ring apron to wipe the sweat off his brow. He gives it a wipe between his legs then throws the sweat covered piece of cloth down on his mothers unconscious face. With a shit eating grin he struts back to the locker room of the gym to change, as he does he mumbles out.
Lively: Damn, it feels good to be back...
The Plane Ride to Boston
On the plane Lively looks out the window as the clouds slowly float by. His mind wonders off to his past. To be fifth teen again, do you remember how you felt. Like you had everything figured out yet you still knew you had so much to learn. Coming into manhood, starring real life right in the face like ticking time bomb ready to explode. Lively knew he had nothing. He knew leaving Florida behind, and his mother behind would spell a tough life on his own. During the day the kid worked in one of the kitchens of the Silver Nugget which held the local wrestling shows on the weekends. This provided him with ends meat to survive. While making due the young Michael Lively felt like he was dying. Felt like he had no future, and that someone like himself didn't have a chance. One Friday night he got off early and decided to check out the wrestling show. That’s when it happened, in that semi-crowded ballroom of the Silver Nugget Michael Lively witnessed the man named Sabu. A suicidal, homicidal, high flying, human death machine. The man wasn't the best choice for a mentor at first glance. I mean he showed no care for his own health in the attempt to put down his opponent, and didn't seem to possess very many technical skills. Lively was hooked and did whatever it took to try to get in with this band of misfit circus freaks that put on an entertaining show.
The sun was gleaming and the dry heat of Las Vegas seemed to almost evaporate the skin on your bones. Lively entered the gym where he was to be trained. Did he realize the beating he was in store for. Within three years the young prodigy of wrestling was big name on the local scene in Las Vegas. Sabu headlined, and the White Lion was what the business called an upper mid-carder. The pop from the fans as Lively would go huge with insane moves drove him to only go bigger the next go round. It was like a drug and this young man was hooked. He possessed the abilities of a legend in the making. Every man that had a history in the business laid eyes on Lively and said he's going to be big time. Like many stars in the making the man was passed over. Told he was a little too insane, a little too reckless, and they weren't sure if that would portray real well. A man named Sabur made it out of the National Wrestling Conference to the big leagues of Action Packed Wrestling. He soon put in a good word for super talented high flyer, and Lively was soon inked to a short term trial contract. With all the skill necessary the man soon began to rack up the wins taking on one of the biggest names in the company, earning himself one hell of a deal, and quite the reputation. This kind of thing turned the confidence into arrogance. Soon the self confident Michael Lively became the ultra heel of arrogance known as the JESUS. Now he sits on a plane with intentions in his heart to return. Bring back the JESUS, give the fans someone truly despicable to distain once more.
Michael Lively is snapped back into the present day as his accountant slash financial manager Aaron Roberts begins to ramble on. First it sounds like the squawking of Charlie Browns teacher, then the awkward squawk soon turn to English as Lively realizes the man is speaking.
Aaron: Listen Michael, at the rate your have been burning through the money I just don't know. I hope you really can get that deal back.
Michael: What do you mean the way I have been burning through it. Hell your sucking up a nice slice of the pie my friend. I'm a frugal son of a bitch. For God Sakes man, my mother is Greyhound as we speak...forty nine dollars.
Aaron: I'm not trying to upset you Mike. It's just that once you renegotiated your contract after winning the tag titles with Twister, things were different.
Michael: Different how, I didn't start brushing my teeth with Champagne...how is the money disappearing.
Aaron: Well you only received that plump amount of money for a brief three or four months until you walked away, which by the way I recommended against.
Michael: Get lippy bitch and I'll bring this plane down so they can arrest me for whipping your ass in first class.
Aaron: Calm down...it's just you left APW, and the money behind. The bank account...
Michael: Not the bank account Aaron, MY bank account.
Aaron: Yeah, your bank account has been supporting a lot of things, and frankly there has been more coming out then going in lately.
Michael: What about the various endorsement deals I had on the table.
Aaron: Lipton Teas wanted nothing to do with a special edition Michael Lively Tea Bag...
Michael: What about Nestea then, fuck I got do everything myself.
Aaron: (he shakes his head toward Lively as he moves on) Apparently Nike didn't think you fit the image of what they want representing their company...sorry Michael.
Michael: What about the cartoon...I had a cartoon in the works.
Aaron: Yeah Smurfs 2009 was scrapped, I guess JESUS Smurf was too controversial, especially when he beat women, and cursed more than an episode of South Park.
Michael: That’s bullshit...JESUS Smurf was a great fucking idea. So what’s the plan?
Aaron: The plan is you get re-instated with APW. Hell even if they give you what you were making prior to the re-up we would be fine.
Michael: Fuck that...I'm solid gold, I'm ratings, I put asses in the seats. The world of wrestling has never showed up more for any villain then the JESUS. Who can make someone so wholesome, so holy as the JESUS synonymous with hate...ME...that’s right? These fuck wads had better pay me what I had before.
Aaron: Michael...no offense but you burned that bridge pretty bad.
Michael: You know how big that shit was....how viewed those segments were....how many people bought the PPV to watch Level One come for the JESUS after I did what I did...due I brought a serious pay day forward for APW even on my way out.
Aaron: Michael...not everyone views the world out of those tinted glasses you gaze out of.
After a bunch of conversation the plane finally touches down. As soon as the motor cuts off the people in coach quickly all stand with their necks arched to the side ducking the luggage bins. NOt a single person wishes to stay on the plane any longer then they have to, and would rather be uncomfortable for the next seven to eight minutes just so they can jockey their way to the front. Luckily for the JESUS he flew first class, and doesn't have to put up with the intimate confines of coach and its game of hurry up and wait. Who knows how long his wallet can afford these accommodations.
At baggage claim of Logan International Airport the mother of JESUS, no not Mary...Terri Lively waits for her son. The woman has to hold a giant sign reading "YOUR JESUS MICHAEL LIVELY" as she waits, because the JESUS is a pure attention whore. The woman was put on a bus pretty much two days prior to ensure she would be here to pick up her son like limo driver. The budget has been tight lately so it seems they are rocking an economy saver four door mid-size sedan from the rental spot. As the JESUS comes down the escalator a crowd of people begin to notice the wrestler that once entertained the masses. Seeing as Overdrive is tomorrow night, a few marks have waited around the airport to catch a glimpse at the arriving wrestlers, and spare no time throwing insults toward Lively.
"Traitor...Buster...Bitch...Sell Out"
That last one sends the JESUS into a rage. He had just been informed on the plane ride over that he may be facing financial ruin if things don't make a drastic change. He knows in his heart he didn't leave the APW for money. Please a small run down promotion like the IWC couldn't even come close to what the juggernaut of sports entertainment APW was shelling out. The only thing Lively was guilty of was EGO. The man had visions of building up a small promotion, giving the big dogs a run for their money. He knows now the errors in his way, but also can honestly say he was no sell out. This brings me to the very moment when Lively slams down his carryon bag, and literally jumps in the face of the overweight fan that just spouted off. Aaron quickly jumps in between the two men speaking to Lively quietly in his ear. The fans smirk at Michael as he backs off. Apparently the words of wisdom from his financial advisor worked, because the White Lion surely was tamed on that instance. Lively takes a second to walk over to the window to regain his composure, while Aaron greets Ms. Lively.
Aaron: Terri...I'm glad you made it safe.
Ms. Lively: Yeah...it is what it is. So what’s up with him, why is he pouting.
Aaron: Well, I broke the news to him...and basically informed him that slapping that fan over there would surely bring the bank account to a screaming negative after the law suit was filled.
Ms. Lively nods her head as she grabs her sons bag off the baggage turnstile. It's the only bag airbrushed with an image of Michael Lively having the last supper with himself as all the disciples, the essence of arrogance. Just then a golf cart holding two Air Port security guards rolls up hot. Six other guards coming running in from every direction. As the cart tries to stop one of the guards leaps off tackling the overweight fan spraying mace as he glided through the air toward him. Lively's Mother and Aaron both back up to let security do their job but look very shocked as they do. Two other guards rush in with batons and begin beating the man’s limbs as the try to zip tie his hands behind his back. The overweight fan screams in pain as his eyes burn from the mace. Michael Lively walks over with a huge grin on his face, and takes a spot next to Aaron and his mother to watch what’s going on.
Aaron: What the hell did he do? They are beating him like it's in the interest of national security.
Lively: Uhh...yeah I think someone picked up that there courtesy phone and informed the Airport that this kid was claiming he had a bomb stashed and was ready to blow it off in the name of Allah.
Ms.Lively: He doesn't even look Muslim.
Lively: Hey...I don't know, all I know is the kid is in store for a long night..fucking cock stain.
Lively then turns to walks for the parking garage so he can get a much needed night of rest to prepare for his Holy War with the Sh-sh-shaddooowwww!!!
At the Arena At Last...By God Almighty At the Arena at Last
Lively's mother parks the rental car in the back lot of the arena. The arrogant monster Michael Lively sits there in the back waiting for his mother to open the door for him. She finally gets out to do just that. He steps out into the setting sun light that has painted the sky a slight orange. The crew has put the final touches on the preparation for Overdrive as the self proclaimed savior of the company enters the building. This entrance isn't like the ones Lively is used to, check in with the booker, head to your locker room to drop off your bag. No sir the JESUS is met by about ten guards all dwarfing the JESUS. They escort the man to a separate locker room apart from the signed roster and inform the man he is to sit there until his match.
This match was a sure squash type situation in store for the JESUS. No time to cut a promo, no chance to let his dastardly heel qualities invigorate the crowd prior to the bell. Just show up, fight one of the biggest bastards on the roster, and get the hell out of Jeff’s arena. I'm sure that’s how it's supposed to go down, but come on guys...this is Michael Lively.
A knock on the door brings the attention of the guards outside Lively's room. The door is opened from the outside as one of the guards peeks inside. Lively sits there dressed for action. His hooded vest with the words "Hottest Shit Going" written on the back is draped over his head. His boots laced up, and a pair of tights airbrushed for the evenings occasion. Ms. Lively on the other hand seems to be dressed extra special and nice for the return of her son to Overdrive. The woman has long black leather boots covering her to her knees. A small red g-string barely covered with a tiny red skirt. To top the outfit off the womans upper half is barely covered with a ripped, cut and shredded t-shirt. The sight of this cougar dressed as if sex was her only mission gets the attention of the guard as she motions for him to come in.
Ms. Lively: Sugar...I'm so thirsty...
She stretches her arms over her head to reveal the bottom half of her breasts sending the guards heart in to ultra thump mode thrusting his blood through his veins. With him distracted Lively quickly leaps up sending a boot right between the man’s legs. Lively splits the up rights then grabs the man’s head in a reverse Muay Thai clinch and yanks the guards head backwards cracking a solid knee in the back of his skull. With that strike the man’s lights dim, and his body drops to the floor sending out a loud nasty thud alerting the other gauds outside. Lively quickly hides behind the door as the guards rush in. The JESUS flips the lights out, and the sounds from a Batman cartoon the children used to hear as the fight ensued begin to fill the air; Boom, Pow, Crack. Suddenly the door slams shuts and the JESUS stands there fixing his vest making sure he looks presentable. Lively takes a moment to slide a bunch of equipment cases in front of the door, before heading out.
In the arena to do the dastardly thing a heel would do, cut an In ring promo
The lights flicker and dim as the sounds of AFI pound out from the loudspeakers. The melodic sounds pulsate as the fake snow begins to fall.
Chase: How the hell is Michael Lively making his way out here?
Harvey: I'm not sure, I thought he was under heavy guarding, locked in his locker until the match later on this evening.
Lively enters the ring to the hatred of the crowd as they show nothing but the best of disgust for the JESUS. He reaches down snatching the mic from the timekeeper and takes the ever important stance in the center of the ring so the cameras can shoot nothing but ultra ruggedness from Lively. With a devilish grin he quickly outstretches his arms posing for the crowd as the shower him with boo's. With a clearing of his throat the man points the mic toward the ground sending an ear piercing squelch over the loud speakers to shut up the crowd. He then lifts the mic to address the crowd.
Lively: Enough, I get it, the people at home get it, and it will be forever known that I am hated. You stupid douche wads paid money to show up cheer the hero and boo me the super villain. Unfortunately I don't have time for your chorus of hatred, save it for the match, because I will surely give you plenty to boo about. Shadow has an appointment, his first come to JESUS meeting. We are set to discuss his performance thus far in APW. I'm sure he thinks his accomplishments have meant something. His achievements are worthwhile, but knocking the shit out of comic book character isn’t much to be proud of. You amount to a pile of stench ridden trash poised for a vagrant to ravage for dinner. I have no respect for you, or your accomplishments. I hate to lose, and refuse to fall to lower level talent like you. You are a dick streak on the sheets, a waste of sperm.
The fans explode into boo's for Michael's comments.
Lively: My only feeling toward you is that of pity, and disgust. You are standing in my way, are sent to destroy the JESUS; please. The Shadow...how fitting cause after I dust that ass in the ring tonight you will surely be standing in mine. I don't think you realize the party you are in store for, the battle coming your way. There is no quit in me, there is no stopping until I get the nod of victory when that bell rings out.
Lively then turns looking toward another camera as he leans back on the ropes crossing his legs.
Lively: I mean what do I have to look forward to...a giant retarded Yogi Bear looking mother fucker with a rat style overbite. He's going to waddle around the ring looking for Boo-Boo while I beat his ass with a pic-a-nic basket. This dopey son of a bitch has nothing for me. His skills are far and few between. He is no different than any other giant roid raged, needle in the ass, sausage munching dip shit that has entered the ring prior. You out speed them, out skill them, and keep them from catching your back, cause that is sure to spell disaster. So Shadow if you’re listening, which I know you are....there will be no creeping or lurking. I will not have you mashing my dinner through my dumpster port. I'm not judging you, if you love to dip you Disco-Stick in the Hershey Highway that’s cool, we just need to keep your fagetry out of my ring. You see tonight will be about wrestling skill, wrestling style, flash and flare. Beefy brawn will be beaten down and abused, treated like used up whore by this skillful wrestling pimp. Shadow will catch my shoe right across his face as I plant that super kick right on his dick gobbling chin. With enough force I might even be able to straighten out your overbite, surely put you to sleep none the less. When your down cowering like the filthy prostitute, knowing your inflated genetically enhanced Michelin Man muscles are spent. Your body gassed out, and the dose of syringe injected Hulk Hogan endurance has worn off. You will have to stare at the force that has exposed your weakness. Look upon the Hottest Shit Going, knowing that you have had a brush with greatness, tangled with JESUS, and simply didn't match up. Don't fret, there is no need to worry this is only one match. It is only one evening, and your title is not even on the line. I have no interest in becoming the Overdrive champion. So you can stop clutching your belt like a security blanket in the back as you stare at me on the monitor. Set it down Shadow...that’s it...now lace up the boots...ahh..ahh...put the dildos down it's not that kind of party. You and Slade can play Billy Jean later on tonight. The only thing I need from you is to step through these ropes. Come at me with that retard strength, and Autistic skill. The JESUS is proud and ready to beat down a mongoloid for the sake of APW. It's time to show the people that have been hypnotized too long by your "SPECIAL" short bus skills. It's time to smarten up, graduate to the next level.
The JESUS strikes his famous JESUS pose which infuriates the crowd into a rage of resentment. He then takes the mic and places it back in front of his face.
JESUS: The time has come once again APW for the JESUS to piss on another man’s dreams, shit on his hopes, and walk right past him with the glory and greatness that is Michael Lively!!!
He then tosses the mic over his shoulder as he smirks toward the front row. The arena explodes with boo's. Lively surely used to this response takes his time to exit the ring. As he heads up the ramp the JESUS spares no one in his insults, and then gives one lucky young fan the souvenir of a spit wad that Michael send flying from his mouth. Pleased with himself, the Hottest Shit Going heads backstage to prepare himself for later.
Grunts and pounding thunder into the air as men stomp their feet and crash around the canvass of a wrestling ring. The scene clears bringing your vision to the sight of Michael Lively center ring with three larger men standing around the ropes. The self proclaimed savior of wrestling hits the one side of the rings bouncing of the rope to get some momentum. He sprints toward one of the rather larger men who whips a big boot in the air. Lively quickly spots the boot coming and his lighting fast reflexes kick in as he drops down kicking the planted leg of the larger man. The big man doubles down to the mat as he clutches his hyper extended knee. Michael Lively rapidly snags a hold of the man’s leg locking it in a clover leaf sub mission, forcing the big man to tap fairly fast.
The JESUS springs to his feet, turning toward the next large fellow who has already made his way toward Lively. He begins to pound at Lively with a large sloppy brawling technique. Michael ducks away from one of the big fists, as he responds to the big man’s strike with a kick to the mid-section. Lively then begins to fire off a blend of his own furious fists. Backs up to whip a super kick in the man’s face. His foot is caught by the big man causing Lively to hop up and down trying to keep his balance on one foot. The big man spins the JESUS around as he throws aside the foot. Soon as Lively comes fully around the big man’s hand is solidly clutched around the neck of the Hottest Shit Going. Michael is then hoisted into the air for a choke slam, and with the strength of his hips he wraps his legs around the man’s arm causing the death grip to come loose. The two topple to the ground as Lively sinks in a nasty arm bar on the big man who taps from the pain.
The JESUS's chest puffs in and out as his body tries to fill itself with oxygen. The two big men roll under the bottom rope leaving Lively alone with the last big man. The JESUS stands looking toward his last round of training. The man seems to be a beast of a man, towering over the former world champion Michael Lively. He then charges Lively who still seems to be taking a moment for breath intake. A large charging clothesline is coming right at Lively who at the last second rolls to freedom. The big man’s chest collides with the corner turn buckles as the White Lion recoils to his feet just for a second to launch himself into the air. He inverts his body and gives a nasty drop kick to the back of the big mans head forcing it forward to connect with the metal turn buckle strap. He stagers backward as Lively positions himself, then lets loose a Pele Kick sending the man to the ground. Michael climbs through the ropes ascending to the top in a flash. He leaps out nailing his shooting star leg drop known as the Prelude on his downed training partner. Anyone in the know realizes that is all it takes to finish the match, and Lively stands up. He looks out of the ring toward his mother who has been sitting in a chair reading her newest installment of Cosmo. The JESUS clears his throat, and his mother not missing a beat reaches into a cooler yanking out a bottle of Gatorade. In a typical Stone Cold tribute she tosses it into the ring as the JESUS catches it ever so perfectly. With a twist of the cap he quenches his thirst. Ms. Lively puts down the magazine, and stands.
Ms. Lively: Are we finished here...I mean really.
Lively: Well it looks like it. I seriously thought it would have taken me a little longer. I mean I haven't shut down a huge man inside the ring in a few months. Martin J. Singer was the last big man I defeated, and he wasn't a muscle bound power house like these guys, more of a sloppy, loose, and puffy heavyweight.
Ms. Lively: What’s the point Michael; you still don't have a contract. Why would you train as if you were going to get back in the ring.
Lively: Well it seems that Jeff has booked me in a match. I'm not covered under their insurance, or sanctioned to fight under their banner, so whatever happens to me is on ME! He has put me in the ring against one huge son of a bitch; the current Overdrive Champion, Shadow, who is unbeaten in singles competition. How fitting, the title I put on the map, a title I made famous, the current champion is one piece of the puzzle to my return.
Ms. Lively: You think by beating him you will get a contract.
Lively: It's a start. You see mother...Jeff thinks this guy is going to destroy me. He thinks this large freak of nature has what it takes to put down the JESUS. Tony Blackwell couldn't do it, Sabur couldn't do it, and this dumb fuck stick doesn't have the nut sack to pull it off either. Many men have stepped in front of me with bad intentions. They had hopes of driving the nail in my coffin. They had dreams of shutting this ever running mouth. The sad fucking truth slapped every one of them right in the face...you can't stop the JESUS. I'm simply unstoppable, unflappable, and untouchable. Seriously mother look at my track record...the only person that I have had trouble with, haven't been able to overcome is Level One.
Ms. Lively: Ohh..we can say that name around you once again.
Lively: NO...I'm the only one who can say it. I guess I have grown a little, let the ego subside for only a second to let it sink in. There is no shame in losing to Level One. He is world renowned for a reason. He has taken home titles all over the world, beaten so many. The man is truly wrestling royalty, a member of the Elite. It doesn't mean I can't get the better of him, it just means on that night he was the better man. I'm fucking rambling on mother...(she rolls her eyes as if it was a surprise the JESUS would ramble on). The point was there is no shame in losing to Level One, but losing to Shadow...that’s a fucking embarrassment. Mr. Steve Ryback is going to be in for a surprise. He is going to realize that I am no ordinary wrestler. No ordinary average sized slacker that he can toss around. My name isn't Mr. Strange.
Ms. Lively: Who is Steve Ryback, and what is a Mr. Strange...they sound like comic book characters.
Lively: And Michael Lively is your average name? Never mind, listen Steve Ryback is the name of Shadow...
Ms. Lively: Great another arrogant bastard with ten nicknames...The Hottest Shade Going, The self proclaimed Shader of wrestling, and the...
***CRACK***
As Ms. Lively ran her mouth making fun of her sons many nicknames he had slithered out of the ring very softly. Just as she turned around to spit out another insult, the JESUS planted a seriously firm super kick right in her face laying her flat on her back to absorb the cold dampness of the concrete below. He then grabs a towel from the ring apron to wipe the sweat off his brow. He gives it a wipe between his legs then throws the sweat covered piece of cloth down on his mothers unconscious face. With a shit eating grin he struts back to the locker room of the gym to change, as he does he mumbles out.
Lively: Damn, it feels good to be back...
The Plane Ride to Boston
On the plane Lively looks out the window as the clouds slowly float by. His mind wonders off to his past. To be fifth teen again, do you remember how you felt. Like you had everything figured out yet you still knew you had so much to learn. Coming into manhood, starring real life right in the face like ticking time bomb ready to explode. Lively knew he had nothing. He knew leaving Florida behind, and his mother behind would spell a tough life on his own. During the day the kid worked in one of the kitchens of the Silver Nugget which held the local wrestling shows on the weekends. This provided him with ends meat to survive. While making due the young Michael Lively felt like he was dying. Felt like he had no future, and that someone like himself didn't have a chance. One Friday night he got off early and decided to check out the wrestling show. That’s when it happened, in that semi-crowded ballroom of the Silver Nugget Michael Lively witnessed the man named Sabu. A suicidal, homicidal, high flying, human death machine. The man wasn't the best choice for a mentor at first glance. I mean he showed no care for his own health in the attempt to put down his opponent, and didn't seem to possess very many technical skills. Lively was hooked and did whatever it took to try to get in with this band of misfit circus freaks that put on an entertaining show.
The sun was gleaming and the dry heat of Las Vegas seemed to almost evaporate the skin on your bones. Lively entered the gym where he was to be trained. Did he realize the beating he was in store for. Within three years the young prodigy of wrestling was big name on the local scene in Las Vegas. Sabu headlined, and the White Lion was what the business called an upper mid-carder. The pop from the fans as Lively would go huge with insane moves drove him to only go bigger the next go round. It was like a drug and this young man was hooked. He possessed the abilities of a legend in the making. Every man that had a history in the business laid eyes on Lively and said he's going to be big time. Like many stars in the making the man was passed over. Told he was a little too insane, a little too reckless, and they weren't sure if that would portray real well. A man named Sabur made it out of the National Wrestling Conference to the big leagues of Action Packed Wrestling. He soon put in a good word for super talented high flyer, and Lively was soon inked to a short term trial contract. With all the skill necessary the man soon began to rack up the wins taking on one of the biggest names in the company, earning himself one hell of a deal, and quite the reputation. This kind of thing turned the confidence into arrogance. Soon the self confident Michael Lively became the ultra heel of arrogance known as the JESUS. Now he sits on a plane with intentions in his heart to return. Bring back the JESUS, give the fans someone truly despicable to distain once more.
Michael Lively is snapped back into the present day as his accountant slash financial manager Aaron Roberts begins to ramble on. First it sounds like the squawking of Charlie Browns teacher, then the awkward squawk soon turn to English as Lively realizes the man is speaking.
Aaron: Listen Michael, at the rate your have been burning through the money I just don't know. I hope you really can get that deal back.
Michael: What do you mean the way I have been burning through it. Hell your sucking up a nice slice of the pie my friend. I'm a frugal son of a bitch. For God Sakes man, my mother is Greyhound as we speak...forty nine dollars.
Aaron: I'm not trying to upset you Mike. It's just that once you renegotiated your contract after winning the tag titles with Twister, things were different.
Michael: Different how, I didn't start brushing my teeth with Champagne...how is the money disappearing.
Aaron: Well you only received that plump amount of money for a brief three or four months until you walked away, which by the way I recommended against.
Michael: Get lippy bitch and I'll bring this plane down so they can arrest me for whipping your ass in first class.
Aaron: Calm down...it's just you left APW, and the money behind. The bank account...
Michael: Not the bank account Aaron, MY bank account.
Aaron: Yeah, your bank account has been supporting a lot of things, and frankly there has been more coming out then going in lately.
Michael: What about the various endorsement deals I had on the table.
Aaron: Lipton Teas wanted nothing to do with a special edition Michael Lively Tea Bag...
Michael: What about Nestea then, fuck I got do everything myself.
Aaron: (he shakes his head toward Lively as he moves on) Apparently Nike didn't think you fit the image of what they want representing their company...sorry Michael.
Michael: What about the cartoon...I had a cartoon in the works.
Aaron: Yeah Smurfs 2009 was scrapped, I guess JESUS Smurf was too controversial, especially when he beat women, and cursed more than an episode of South Park.
Michael: That’s bullshit...JESUS Smurf was a great fucking idea. So what’s the plan?
Aaron: The plan is you get re-instated with APW. Hell even if they give you what you were making prior to the re-up we would be fine.
Michael: Fuck that...I'm solid gold, I'm ratings, I put asses in the seats. The world of wrestling has never showed up more for any villain then the JESUS. Who can make someone so wholesome, so holy as the JESUS synonymous with hate...ME...that’s right? These fuck wads had better pay me what I had before.
Aaron: Michael...no offense but you burned that bridge pretty bad.
Michael: You know how big that shit was....how viewed those segments were....how many people bought the PPV to watch Level One come for the JESUS after I did what I did...due I brought a serious pay day forward for APW even on my way out.
Aaron: Michael...not everyone views the world out of those tinted glasses you gaze out of.
After a bunch of conversation the plane finally touches down. As soon as the motor cuts off the people in coach quickly all stand with their necks arched to the side ducking the luggage bins. NOt a single person wishes to stay on the plane any longer then they have to, and would rather be uncomfortable for the next seven to eight minutes just so they can jockey their way to the front. Luckily for the JESUS he flew first class, and doesn't have to put up with the intimate confines of coach and its game of hurry up and wait. Who knows how long his wallet can afford these accommodations.
At baggage claim of Logan International Airport the mother of JESUS, no not Mary...Terri Lively waits for her son. The woman has to hold a giant sign reading "YOUR JESUS MICHAEL LIVELY" as she waits, because the JESUS is a pure attention whore. The woman was put on a bus pretty much two days prior to ensure she would be here to pick up her son like limo driver. The budget has been tight lately so it seems they are rocking an economy saver four door mid-size sedan from the rental spot. As the JESUS comes down the escalator a crowd of people begin to notice the wrestler that once entertained the masses. Seeing as Overdrive is tomorrow night, a few marks have waited around the airport to catch a glimpse at the arriving wrestlers, and spare no time throwing insults toward Lively.
"Traitor...Buster...Bitch...Sell Out"
That last one sends the JESUS into a rage. He had just been informed on the plane ride over that he may be facing financial ruin if things don't make a drastic change. He knows in his heart he didn't leave the APW for money. Please a small run down promotion like the IWC couldn't even come close to what the juggernaut of sports entertainment APW was shelling out. The only thing Lively was guilty of was EGO. The man had visions of building up a small promotion, giving the big dogs a run for their money. He knows now the errors in his way, but also can honestly say he was no sell out. This brings me to the very moment when Lively slams down his carryon bag, and literally jumps in the face of the overweight fan that just spouted off. Aaron quickly jumps in between the two men speaking to Lively quietly in his ear. The fans smirk at Michael as he backs off. Apparently the words of wisdom from his financial advisor worked, because the White Lion surely was tamed on that instance. Lively takes a second to walk over to the window to regain his composure, while Aaron greets Ms. Lively.
Aaron: Terri...I'm glad you made it safe.
Ms. Lively: Yeah...it is what it is. So what’s up with him, why is he pouting.
Aaron: Well, I broke the news to him...and basically informed him that slapping that fan over there would surely bring the bank account to a screaming negative after the law suit was filled.
Ms. Lively nods her head as she grabs her sons bag off the baggage turnstile. It's the only bag airbrushed with an image of Michael Lively having the last supper with himself as all the disciples, the essence of arrogance. Just then a golf cart holding two Air Port security guards rolls up hot. Six other guards coming running in from every direction. As the cart tries to stop one of the guards leaps off tackling the overweight fan spraying mace as he glided through the air toward him. Lively's Mother and Aaron both back up to let security do their job but look very shocked as they do. Two other guards rush in with batons and begin beating the man’s limbs as the try to zip tie his hands behind his back. The overweight fan screams in pain as his eyes burn from the mace. Michael Lively walks over with a huge grin on his face, and takes a spot next to Aaron and his mother to watch what’s going on.
Aaron: What the hell did he do? They are beating him like it's in the interest of national security.
Lively: Uhh...yeah I think someone picked up that there courtesy phone and informed the Airport that this kid was claiming he had a bomb stashed and was ready to blow it off in the name of Allah.
Ms.Lively: He doesn't even look Muslim.
Lively: Hey...I don't know, all I know is the kid is in store for a long night..fucking cock stain.
Lively then turns to walks for the parking garage so he can get a much needed night of rest to prepare for his Holy War with the Sh-sh-shaddooowwww!!!
At the Arena At Last...By God Almighty At the Arena at Last
Lively's mother parks the rental car in the back lot of the arena. The arrogant monster Michael Lively sits there in the back waiting for his mother to open the door for him. She finally gets out to do just that. He steps out into the setting sun light that has painted the sky a slight orange. The crew has put the final touches on the preparation for Overdrive as the self proclaimed savior of the company enters the building. This entrance isn't like the ones Lively is used to, check in with the booker, head to your locker room to drop off your bag. No sir the JESUS is met by about ten guards all dwarfing the JESUS. They escort the man to a separate locker room apart from the signed roster and inform the man he is to sit there until his match.
This match was a sure squash type situation in store for the JESUS. No time to cut a promo, no chance to let his dastardly heel qualities invigorate the crowd prior to the bell. Just show up, fight one of the biggest bastards on the roster, and get the hell out of Jeff’s arena. I'm sure that’s how it's supposed to go down, but come on guys...this is Michael Lively.
A knock on the door brings the attention of the guards outside Lively's room. The door is opened from the outside as one of the guards peeks inside. Lively sits there dressed for action. His hooded vest with the words "Hottest Shit Going" written on the back is draped over his head. His boots laced up, and a pair of tights airbrushed for the evenings occasion. Ms. Lively on the other hand seems to be dressed extra special and nice for the return of her son to Overdrive. The woman has long black leather boots covering her to her knees. A small red g-string barely covered with a tiny red skirt. To top the outfit off the womans upper half is barely covered with a ripped, cut and shredded t-shirt. The sight of this cougar dressed as if sex was her only mission gets the attention of the guard as she motions for him to come in.
Ms. Lively: Sugar...I'm so thirsty...
She stretches her arms over her head to reveal the bottom half of her breasts sending the guards heart in to ultra thump mode thrusting his blood through his veins. With him distracted Lively quickly leaps up sending a boot right between the man’s legs. Lively splits the up rights then grabs the man’s head in a reverse Muay Thai clinch and yanks the guards head backwards cracking a solid knee in the back of his skull. With that strike the man’s lights dim, and his body drops to the floor sending out a loud nasty thud alerting the other gauds outside. Lively quickly hides behind the door as the guards rush in. The JESUS flips the lights out, and the sounds from a Batman cartoon the children used to hear as the fight ensued begin to fill the air; Boom, Pow, Crack. Suddenly the door slams shuts and the JESUS stands there fixing his vest making sure he looks presentable. Lively takes a moment to slide a bunch of equipment cases in front of the door, before heading out.
In the arena to do the dastardly thing a heel would do, cut an In ring promo
The lights flicker and dim as the sounds of AFI pound out from the loudspeakers. The melodic sounds pulsate as the fake snow begins to fall.
Chase: How the hell is Michael Lively making his way out here?
Harvey: I'm not sure, I thought he was under heavy guarding, locked in his locker until the match later on this evening.
Lively enters the ring to the hatred of the crowd as they show nothing but the best of disgust for the JESUS. He reaches down snatching the mic from the timekeeper and takes the ever important stance in the center of the ring so the cameras can shoot nothing but ultra ruggedness from Lively. With a devilish grin he quickly outstretches his arms posing for the crowd as the shower him with boo's. With a clearing of his throat the man points the mic toward the ground sending an ear piercing squelch over the loud speakers to shut up the crowd. He then lifts the mic to address the crowd.
Lively: Enough, I get it, the people at home get it, and it will be forever known that I am hated. You stupid douche wads paid money to show up cheer the hero and boo me the super villain. Unfortunately I don't have time for your chorus of hatred, save it for the match, because I will surely give you plenty to boo about. Shadow has an appointment, his first come to JESUS meeting. We are set to discuss his performance thus far in APW. I'm sure he thinks his accomplishments have meant something. His achievements are worthwhile, but knocking the shit out of comic book character isn’t much to be proud of. You amount to a pile of stench ridden trash poised for a vagrant to ravage for dinner. I have no respect for you, or your accomplishments. I hate to lose, and refuse to fall to lower level talent like you. You are a dick streak on the sheets, a waste of sperm.
The fans explode into boo's for Michael's comments.
Lively: My only feeling toward you is that of pity, and disgust. You are standing in my way, are sent to destroy the JESUS; please. The Shadow...how fitting cause after I dust that ass in the ring tonight you will surely be standing in mine. I don't think you realize the party you are in store for, the battle coming your way. There is no quit in me, there is no stopping until I get the nod of victory when that bell rings out.
Lively then turns looking toward another camera as he leans back on the ropes crossing his legs.
Lively: I mean what do I have to look forward to...a giant retarded Yogi Bear looking mother fucker with a rat style overbite. He's going to waddle around the ring looking for Boo-Boo while I beat his ass with a pic-a-nic basket. This dopey son of a bitch has nothing for me. His skills are far and few between. He is no different than any other giant roid raged, needle in the ass, sausage munching dip shit that has entered the ring prior. You out speed them, out skill them, and keep them from catching your back, cause that is sure to spell disaster. So Shadow if you’re listening, which I know you are....there will be no creeping or lurking. I will not have you mashing my dinner through my dumpster port. I'm not judging you, if you love to dip you Disco-Stick in the Hershey Highway that’s cool, we just need to keep your fagetry out of my ring. You see tonight will be about wrestling skill, wrestling style, flash and flare. Beefy brawn will be beaten down and abused, treated like used up whore by this skillful wrestling pimp. Shadow will catch my shoe right across his face as I plant that super kick right on his dick gobbling chin. With enough force I might even be able to straighten out your overbite, surely put you to sleep none the less. When your down cowering like the filthy prostitute, knowing your inflated genetically enhanced Michelin Man muscles are spent. Your body gassed out, and the dose of syringe injected Hulk Hogan endurance has worn off. You will have to stare at the force that has exposed your weakness. Look upon the Hottest Shit Going, knowing that you have had a brush with greatness, tangled with JESUS, and simply didn't match up. Don't fret, there is no need to worry this is only one match. It is only one evening, and your title is not even on the line. I have no interest in becoming the Overdrive champion. So you can stop clutching your belt like a security blanket in the back as you stare at me on the monitor. Set it down Shadow...that’s it...now lace up the boots...ahh..ahh...put the dildos down it's not that kind of party. You and Slade can play Billy Jean later on tonight. The only thing I need from you is to step through these ropes. Come at me with that retard strength, and Autistic skill. The JESUS is proud and ready to beat down a mongoloid for the sake of APW. It's time to show the people that have been hypnotized too long by your "SPECIAL" short bus skills. It's time to smarten up, graduate to the next level.
The JESUS strikes his famous JESUS pose which infuriates the crowd into a rage of resentment. He then takes the mic and places it back in front of his face.
JESUS: The time has come once again APW for the JESUS to piss on another man’s dreams, shit on his hopes, and walk right past him with the glory and greatness that is Michael Lively!!!
He then tosses the mic over his shoulder as he smirks toward the front row. The arena explodes with boo's. Lively surely used to this response takes his time to exit the ring. As he heads up the ramp the JESUS spares no one in his insults, and then gives one lucky young fan the souvenir of a spit wad that Michael send flying from his mouth. Pleased with himself, the Hottest Shit Going heads backstage to prepare himself for later.
