Post by Michael Callahan on Apr 2, 2013 19:21:21 GMT -4
Backstage at his very first Overdrive, an assured Michael Callahan with a perfectly polished World Heavyweight Championship slung over his shoulder walks towards the thin rain cloud grey curtain that separates the safety of the backstage to the public gallery of the arena. Smiling his first in what felt like an aeon, no longer does Michael carry the burdens of desperation in bags underneath his eyes, nor does he wear the pale complexion of a man scheming under the dim lights of the moon. No, this is the look of a man at peace with his past, his future, and most importantly, his present.
Yet his new found composure will be put to the test in a true trial by fire, a real measure of his ability and his soothed mindset in the form of a war with Delikado. In his first match as champion, he must yet again prove his worth in the unfamiliar hunting grounds of Overdrive, but first he must be seen to by a shrimp of a doctor with missing front teeth and a frazzled expression as he gives Callahan the twice-over with a pocket flash light.
Dr. Reid: Mike, you're up in five. How're you feeling? Still got headaches?
Michael Callahan: Not at all Dr. Reid. I feel better than ever. I haven't had a headache all week. Seems like this thing...
Callahan lifts the title to show the medic, who hangs his jaw slightly in admiration for wrestling's most coveted prize.
Michael Callahan: ... is the medicine the good doctor ordered.
Dr. Reid: Lemme just check...
With a gloved hand, Dr. Reid pulls up the thin sheet of skin that protects Callahan's eyes and shines the sharp and piercing beams into his delicate retinas. The off-white colouring of Callahan's sclera appears unmarked by the thin red streaks of sleep deprivation, and with it's absence Dr. Reid sees fit to pronounce the champion healthy to fight.
Dr. Reid: And you're clear. Go right on up.
Michael Callahan: Thanks Doc.
The American Hero steps up to the curtain where an APW crew member with a clipboard and a headset waits to greet him. Michael stands facing the curtain, psyching himself up for the battle ahead.
Chris Porter: You're on in five, Mike.
Michael Callahan: Thanks Chris. Everything set to go?
Chris Porter: As always. Oh, and Mike?
Michael Callahan: Yeah?
Chris Porter: Light 'em up out there.
Michael grinned a devilish smile at Porter as he took his last step to the curtain, and with all the charm he could muster...
Michael Callahan: ... I always do.
And with that, he pulls back the curtain and steps out into the all-consuming golden light that guides him to his fate.
-
Twenty minutes into what is already being tipped as a classic, an exhausted Michael Callahan leans against the turnbuckle nursing battered and bruised ribs while across the ring, Delikado rests against the ropes on a hobbling leg. It's all to play for here in the dying embers of this World Heavyweight Championship spectacular on the first show back from RassleMania!
Harvey: What a match we've seen so far! Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth! These two are going the distance, twelve rounds, shot for shot here tonight! Delikado has well and truly brought his A-game against the one of a kind Michael Callahan!
Chase: This is so good! I could watch this again and again! I don't know who to root for!
The two knights in slightly different but still rusted suits of armour get ready for one last joust as they step up to another, but Delikado kicks it up a gear when he lunges at Callahan with a desperation clothesline that the champion just narrowly ducks and counters into an American Suplex!
Harvey: OH! BIG TIME American Suplex off the whiff of the Clothesline! Wait-!
Callahan holds on, rolls Deli over and pulls him back up to his feet while clutching onto the rear waist lock so as to hit a second American Suplex!
Harvey: And another!
Followed by a third, this time release American Suplex that drops Delikado straight on his head!
Harvey: And anotherrrr! A trio of American Suplexes and these fans are eating it all up! They are right in the corner of Michael Callahan!
Chase: Delikado doesn't even know where he is!
At total unease, Delikado dizzily fights his way to his feet but the three solid impacts have left him dazed and confused. Callahan raises one arm as he adopts a stance, stalking and waiting for Deli to make himself vulnerable to the next big attack.
Harvey: Delikado stumbles to his feet and Callahan looks to be setting up for something big here!
But Delikado lunges! The Cubano flame still rages on! Big right hand but wait-Callahan blocks it-
Harvey: Delikado tries to fight Callahan off but-, COUNTER!
And doubles him over with a kick that damn well could've gone straight through Delikado's gut, hunching him over and adding to that nausea!
Harvey: A kick to the stomach, Delikado is doubled over andddd- we've seen this before!
Callahan grabs Delikado's head and puts him in the Piledriver Position! It doesn't take a genius to figure out what Callahan has in store.!
Harvey: YES! This is it! The boss is about to get fired! Here we go!
Callahan looks out to the crowd, sees the fans chanting and cheering and screaming his name and with defiance and adrenaline burning through his veins slicks his sweat-drenched hair back with his hand before throwing up those signature Nixon V's to mark the occasion.
Harvey: Callahan throws those Nixon V's high in the air, but wait! Delikado twists out and- LAST CALL TO CUBA!
At the last second, Callahan drops prone to the mat and the kick with the power of a bolt action rifle sails over his head and straight into the jaw of referee Dave Ronson, leaving him sprawled across the mat and out for the count.
Harvey: Callahan ducks and Delikado clocks the referee! Oh no!
Chase: AWH YES! Anything can happen now! Finish the job, bossman!
Delikado cares not for the referees well-being, but he does care that there's no official to count for when he beats Michael Callahan. He stares, almost in shock at his disastrous miss but for a moment too long as Callahan twirls him around and kicks him in the stomach again, hooking him in for for the ride of his life.
Harvey: And yet again with the kick to the stomach! It's Good Ol' Piledriver time!
Callahan drops Deli square on his neck with a beautifully executed Good Ol' Piledriver that makes a horrific sound as Kado's head bounces off the ground. The Cuban is out of it, and it seems academic from this point on!
Harvey: BAM! The most dangerous signature move in Callahan's arsenal connects! It's mere technicalities from this point on! Callahan is gonna' win this!
Chase: Hahahaha! Delikado got blasted!
Callahan takes position in the corner, aiming down the sights of an invisible rifle as Delikado very wearily pushes his way up to his feet.
Harvey: Callahan looking for the Victory Lock perhaps?! We've seen it used so many times before! Could this be the finale of his debut title defence on Overdrive?!
Of course, things never quite go to plan in wrestling.
Fan: Hey Callahan!
A voice in the crowd draws the champion's attentions.
Fan: You suck! You jackass!
Callahan turns to confront the mouthy fan, a man of about forty wearing an Anaheim Angels shirt to antagonise the champ further.
Callahan: Why don't you shut the hell up?
Harvey: Callahan having words with the fans here! Don't get distracted now!
Fan: You got yourself a medicine degree Callahan? Because you're a scrub! You jackass!
Callahan: What? That doesn't even make sense!
Callahan glares at the fan, staring daggers into him. All the while, Delikado is recovering in the ring.
Fan: What, you think you can intimidate me? You're as good a champion as you are a Mayor of Kelso! You jackass!
Callahan snaps. Freedom of speech be damned, that man is going to get a face full of fist. Callahan slides out the ring to square up to the troublemaker.
Callahan: Oh that is IT!
With a wry smirk, the fan “somewhat” cowers back into his seat but he's not afraid.
Fan: Alright, alright. I'll sit down.
Callahan grabs his popcorn bucket out of his hands and throws it at the crowd, much to the fans approval who literally eat it up. Callahan then gets back into the ring to see Deli covering himself up in the corner, but the fan from hell isn't quite finished.
Fan: Ya' jackass!
Callahan whirls around ready to go off on this guy, but before he can do that-
Boss Delikado: EY, PERRO! Pay attention!
Callahan whips back around to face Delikado only to catch a face full of ridiculously expensive loafer that The Boss has just launched at him, knocking Callahan clean unconscious from the shot to the nose.
KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! OHHHHHHHHHH YEAHHHHH!
The American Hero collapses on the mat like a sack of potatoes, and with no referee around there's not much that can be done. Delikado may have just pulled off his biggest heist yet!
Harvey: What the Hell! Callahan just got knocked out by one of Delikado's $30,000 Deli Dollar shoes!
Chase: Hahahahaha! Callahan's cabinet has just been given the boot!
Delikado practically collapses into the pinfall attempt, sprawled over Callahan as the referee slowly but groggily makes a count.
Harvey: And Delikado now, right into the cover! Is this it?!
1!
.
.
2!
.
.
3!
Paige: Here is your winner and the NEWWWW World Heavyweight Champion! He is The Bawse! He is the sexiest man in the world and in our immediate solar system, further information pending! He is scientifically proven to cause more parties than any other person in the history of the world, past, present, future and indeed fictional characters! DELIKADOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Harvey: And just like that, the Boss is finally running the company!
The referee hands Delikado his prize, much to his delight of the Cuban with the satisfied smirk sprawled across his face. He clutches his neck and raises the title as his theme song plays him out, worse for wear but victorious.
Chase: I honestly couldn't have been sad either way. One of these men was going to be champion. I coudln't lose!
Harvey: With the world championship around Delikado's waist, what will happen to APW now?!
–
When Callahan finally comes to, he does so not in the medical bay, a hospital or even the ring, but a prison cell guarded by a burly Hispanic gentleman with a moustache.
Michael Callahan: Where the Hell am I?
Prison Guard Sergio: You, cholo, are a prisoner of Delikado Land. Your trial will be coming soon for your wicked crimes.
Michael Callahan: Delikado Land? What? Let me out of here! You can't hold me prisoner! I demand to see my lawyer!
Prison Guard Sergio: Stupido Americano! You are not in your US of A now hombre. You are in Delikado Land!
Michael Callahan: No, that sign behind you has directions to the arena and the bathrooms. We're still in Panama City. Don't talk crap.
Prison Guard Sergio: Hahaha! Stupido Yankee pig-dog! The Roberto Duran Arena IS Delikado Land! You see, after he beat your moronico ass for your championship, his Bawseness struck a deal with the Panamanian government to secede the arena into his own wrestle-state. He gave them ten million Deli Dollars and promised them a Van Halen concert within the next twelve months, and in exchange he is able to establish this stadium as his own personal kingdom!
Callahan's hands grip tightly around the bars of his cell door, frustrated by this turn of events.
Michael Callahan: Van Halen... you brilliant, brilliant bastard Delikado.
PA System: 'ey, is this thing working? Fuck it! Bring me Prisoner number zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero three. Boss Delikado is bored!
Prison Guard Sergio: That's you, comepinga. Put your hands through the bars so I can handcuff you.
Callahan reluctantly does as is told and is promptly dragged up a spiral staircase for his “trial”. Before long, he stands in the APW arena which is now a court at the top of the entrance ramp. Boss Delikado sits upon an excessively high throne chair.
Court Clerk Raoul: All rise in the Supreme Court of Delikado! Prisoner #3-
Chief Justice Boss Delikado: Raoul! Read out his proper prisoner number.
Raoul stares back in disbelief.
Court Clerk Raoul: Really?
Chief Justice Boss Delikado: Do I kid around?
Court Clerk Raoul: Ugh... Alright. Prisoner #00000000000003, you are brought before the Supreme Court of Delikado, Delikado Land on charges of treason against Brotherly Leader, Mighty Emperor, Handsome Scholar and Lord of All Things Bawselike Delikado, and for attempting to usurp his glory by stealing his championship belt. Do you contest your guilt?
Michael Callahan: Of course I do. It was my championship that he stole. What is this madness, Delikado?
Chief Justice Boss Delikado: Madness? You saying I'm crazy? I'll cut your head off!
Michael Callahan: Do I not get legal representation? Extradition back to the US? Why the Hell is nobody doing anything to stop you seceding?
Chief Justice Boss Delikado: I gave your US diplomats tickets to my glorious Van Halen concert and they decided you were not worth the expense of bringing back home. Now, you are MY prisoner.
Callahan curses the name of David Lee Roth under his breath.
Michael Callahan: This is insanity! You won't get away with this!
Chief Justice Boss Delikado: Let's see what the jury has to say. Jury?
Delikado climbs down from his seat and makes his way over to “the jury bench”, which consists of three crash test dummies, a blow-up doll, a mouse in a cage and a sock puppet. Delikado puts on the puppet.
Jury Member Puppet: He is guilty! Kill the American!
Chief Justice Boss Delikado: As you can see by the overwhelming evidence given against your name, there is no doubt in anyone's mind that you are guilty of disgusting and evil crimes! Therefore, Boss Delikado sees fit to find you guilty of existence against Delikado, for which the only punishment is an execution!
Delikado pulls a revolver from his pocket and cocks back the hammer, pointing it at Callahan's head.
Michael Callahan: You can't kill me! You can't do this! You're a professional wrestler, not Idi Amin! Joke's over Deli! Fun and games is all over! You got me!
Chief Justice Boss Delikado: Boss Delikado NEVER tells jokes.
-
When Callahan awakes, he is not in the arena nor is it even show day, and indeed he is still champion. Instead, he is being frightened awake by a nightmare on Dr. Gray's therapy couch.
Michael Callahan: Jesusshitfuckpiss!
Dr. Alexander Gray: I swear Mike, you need to stop falling asleep in my clinic.
Callahan ignores Gray in favour of an outburst.
Michael Callahan: Delikado is a blood hungry diktat who needs to be stopped!
Dr. Alexander Gray: Are you kidding? The guy is a moron.
Michael Callahan: No, no, no! APW's Fun Ambassador is a genius, a wolf in sheep's clothing. He's built this perfect facade for himself just like Phil Atken did. Atken's eccentricity was built around simple ignorance and “bad luck”, but when his cards were on the table Atken out-smarted every single one of us. He was unstoppable. Delikado is exactly the same, but instead of being ignorant he amplifies his image with extravagance!
Dr. Alexander Gray: Not everyone in this business is an evil mastermind in disguise Callahan. You are. Phil Atken is. I am. Delikado is just an idiot with too much money.
Michael punches Gray's desk in frustration with the fact he's not being taken seriously by his therapist.
Michael Callahan: No Alex! You're not listening to me. If Delikado becomes champion, he will take over APW from the inside. He will overthrow the administration. This is something he's done his entire life. He gets a scrap of power, he takes the ball and then he runs with it cradling a sub machine gun to shoot down any rat fuck who tries to take that ball away from him. They can't stop you scoring a touch-down when their defence is a pile of bloody carcasses at the halfway line.
Dr. Alexander Gray: You're exaggerating because you're afraid of him taking your championship. You don't want any vision of APW but your own.
Michael Callahan: Of course I don't. If he takes over, APW will become his own personal penthouse! The class and dignity that Overdrive has now will vanish over night! Suddenly, Overdrive will be inundated with heavies and goons who will secure his power! Every show will be on the beach, with cocktail drinks and topless underwear models and rock concerts! It'll be like a pool party at Sir Mix-A-Lot's house!
Gray pauses for a moment to think about it.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Is that a bad thing?
Michael Callahan: It is when you're trying to re-instil moral integrity into a dying, corrupted art form! Damn it, why won't you take this seriously Alex?!
Dr. Alexander Gray: You're really that concerned, aren't you Michael?
Michael Callahan: No! That's why I'm shouting at you for thinking me a fool!
Dr. Alexander Gray: Alright. I'll take care of this. I'll give you some expert advice from a man who knows ALL about dealing with Cuban fighters. GI! Come!
Michael Callahan: What? You expect him to teach me how to beat Delikado? All he can do is take abuse, mumble and occasionally have an outburst.
Dr. Alexander Gray: That's only when he knows I'm watching. I hold him in place, Mr. Callahan. When I'm gone? He reverts right back to his old self. Just you watch.
Dr. Alexander Gray: GI? I'm going out to run some errands, but Mr. Callahan here will keep you company. Is that okay?
The GI: Mumblemumblemumble...
Dr. Alexander Gray: Let me know if he yields any useful information.
Michael Callahan: Hello... GI.
GI's eyes suddenly lock onto Callahan's and the constant trembling expression fades into a sincere, determined confidence. Callahan is taken aback by the dramatic change.
The GI: Sir, I'd appreciate it if you referred to me as Corporal Zzyzx of Hurricane Battalion. Can I help you?
Michael Callahan: Uhh... yeahh. I've got a little problem that I need help with.
The GI: I can kill a man in fifty different ways. Give me their name, I'll give you their head.
Michael Callahan: No, no, no. Not like that. I'm defending my championship this week against Delikado.
The GI: The Cuban? Those islander maggots are a breeze. I've killed countless of those coconut eating bastards with my bare hands.
Michael Callahan: Is that so?
The GI: Absolutely. Y'see, during the Cold War, these sketchy Castro loving fucks caused a lot of mayhem that we had to deal with. Sadly, we averted nuclear crisis when we should've wiped those Commie scumbags out for good.
Michael Callahan: What do you have to do to deal with these guys?
The GI: Don't call them “guys”. It implies a masculine, human quality not befitting of Cubans. They are not virtuous, honest, “real” American human beings like you or I. They are cold, blood-less, Communist reptiles. You can't hurt them like a normal people. Bullets won't stop them. Instead, you crush their shells under your boot and destroy the nerve ending.
Michael Callahan: Cubans have a carapace?
The GI: Damn right. They'll crack open like a goose egg if you put enough pressure on them. That's what we got taught in boot camp. Just don't let your nerves kick in. Destroy it and eradicate it from existence. Cubans aren't human beings, they're an inferior reptile pest that need exterminating.
Michael Callahan: Is that all they taught you in basic training?
The GI: Be ruthless. I know you've been on the battle-field too. Have you ever killed anyone?
Michael Callahan: I've shot a man.
The GI: Get into that zone in your head. He's not a human being. He's a reptile and if it's not him? Then it's YOU. Show no mercy. Show no remorse. Don't give him an inch. When you get in the ring with Delikado, make that Commie cock-sucker pay. Kick him so hard in the teeth even fucking Castro will feel it! Hahahaha! You got that?
Michael Callahan: Right, I-
Dr. Gray opens the door once again and the colourful GI instantly reverts to the timid and reserved PTSD soldier. He begins mumbling once more as Dr. Gray wrings his hands gleefully.
Dr. Alexander Gray: I trust that was helpful?
Michael Callahan: Completely...
Dr. Alexander Gray: I'm glad. If there's anything further I can to calm your quivering nerves, please, don't hesitate to ask me.
Michael Callahan: No, I think I'll be going now. I need to get ready for my flight.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Don't worry about Delikado. He is no big deal. And we will be there, rooting for you at ring-side.
Suspicious of Gray's intentions, Callahan folds his arms and gives Gray a dirty look.
Michael Callahan: Ensure that all you are do is providing “moral” support. I don't want nor need your help to win my battles. Delikado is going to do everything in his power to try and take this belt away from me, but I've worked too damn long and too damn hard to give it up to him now. I see Delikado for what he is, a cruel tyrant with a penchant for excess and a thirst for the suffering of others. The second I start playing his stupid games is the second he stabs me from the shadows and takes away everything I have. That's how his kind work and I simply can not allow that to happen. I must beat Delikado myself.
Callahan heads for the door so that he can go prepare for his flight out to Panama for his first ever Overdrive.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Atta'boy. Go kick some Cuban ass!
Michael Callahan: I will. Thank you Gray for everything, and thank you too GI.
Callahan turns and nods his respect to GI who simply stares vacantly at the fruit bowl in front of him, hungry for a banana but unwilling to ask Gray for one.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Why're you thanking GI? The boy is a psychological cripple and not worth the clothes he wears.
Michael Callahan: Because he's smarter than he lets on. It maybe misguided, propaganda bullshit but there's truth in what he says. The colour of the wool that the wolf is wearing is irrelevant. The masks that they wear the same. In the end, when there's a will there's a weapon and everyone has a weakness. I have to go out there, find Delikado's and stop him from taking my title and my future for APW. I've been thrown into the deep end with this brand swap, but damn it, I am Michael Joshua Callahan. I am a born survivor. I RELISH in adversity and challenges. Ever since Day 1, I've spat in the face of the odds and this will be no exception. I will put an end and out Delikado for the true monster that he is! And that Dr. Gray? That... is a promise.
And with that, Callahan is out the door and on his merry way. Standing atop the diving board of a very steep pool of talent, one has to wonder if Callahan will sink or swim in his foray into the world of Overdrive. The odds re stacked against The American Hero, but if there's anyone to be relied upon to brave it then it's Michael Callahan.
Yet his new found composure will be put to the test in a true trial by fire, a real measure of his ability and his soothed mindset in the form of a war with Delikado. In his first match as champion, he must yet again prove his worth in the unfamiliar hunting grounds of Overdrive, but first he must be seen to by a shrimp of a doctor with missing front teeth and a frazzled expression as he gives Callahan the twice-over with a pocket flash light.
Dr. Reid: Mike, you're up in five. How're you feeling? Still got headaches?
Michael Callahan: Not at all Dr. Reid. I feel better than ever. I haven't had a headache all week. Seems like this thing...
Callahan lifts the title to show the medic, who hangs his jaw slightly in admiration for wrestling's most coveted prize.
Michael Callahan: ... is the medicine the good doctor ordered.
Dr. Reid: Lemme just check...
With a gloved hand, Dr. Reid pulls up the thin sheet of skin that protects Callahan's eyes and shines the sharp and piercing beams into his delicate retinas. The off-white colouring of Callahan's sclera appears unmarked by the thin red streaks of sleep deprivation, and with it's absence Dr. Reid sees fit to pronounce the champion healthy to fight.
Dr. Reid: And you're clear. Go right on up.
Michael Callahan: Thanks Doc.
The American Hero steps up to the curtain where an APW crew member with a clipboard and a headset waits to greet him. Michael stands facing the curtain, psyching himself up for the battle ahead.
Chris Porter: You're on in five, Mike.
Michael Callahan: Thanks Chris. Everything set to go?
Chris Porter: As always. Oh, and Mike?
Michael Callahan: Yeah?
Chris Porter: Light 'em up out there.
Michael grinned a devilish smile at Porter as he took his last step to the curtain, and with all the charm he could muster...
Michael Callahan: ... I always do.
And with that, he pulls back the curtain and steps out into the all-consuming golden light that guides him to his fate.
-
Twenty minutes into what is already being tipped as a classic, an exhausted Michael Callahan leans against the turnbuckle nursing battered and bruised ribs while across the ring, Delikado rests against the ropes on a hobbling leg. It's all to play for here in the dying embers of this World Heavyweight Championship spectacular on the first show back from RassleMania!
Harvey: What a match we've seen so far! Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth! These two are going the distance, twelve rounds, shot for shot here tonight! Delikado has well and truly brought his A-game against the one of a kind Michael Callahan!
Chase: This is so good! I could watch this again and again! I don't know who to root for!
The two knights in slightly different but still rusted suits of armour get ready for one last joust as they step up to another, but Delikado kicks it up a gear when he lunges at Callahan with a desperation clothesline that the champion just narrowly ducks and counters into an American Suplex!
Harvey: OH! BIG TIME American Suplex off the whiff of the Clothesline! Wait-!
Callahan holds on, rolls Deli over and pulls him back up to his feet while clutching onto the rear waist lock so as to hit a second American Suplex!
Harvey: And another!
Followed by a third, this time release American Suplex that drops Delikado straight on his head!
Harvey: And anotherrrr! A trio of American Suplexes and these fans are eating it all up! They are right in the corner of Michael Callahan!
Chase: Delikado doesn't even know where he is!
At total unease, Delikado dizzily fights his way to his feet but the three solid impacts have left him dazed and confused. Callahan raises one arm as he adopts a stance, stalking and waiting for Deli to make himself vulnerable to the next big attack.
Harvey: Delikado stumbles to his feet and Callahan looks to be setting up for something big here!
But Delikado lunges! The Cubano flame still rages on! Big right hand but wait-Callahan blocks it-
Harvey: Delikado tries to fight Callahan off but-, COUNTER!
And doubles him over with a kick that damn well could've gone straight through Delikado's gut, hunching him over and adding to that nausea!
Harvey: A kick to the stomach, Delikado is doubled over andddd- we've seen this before!
Callahan grabs Delikado's head and puts him in the Piledriver Position! It doesn't take a genius to figure out what Callahan has in store.!
Harvey: YES! This is it! The boss is about to get fired! Here we go!
Callahan looks out to the crowd, sees the fans chanting and cheering and screaming his name and with defiance and adrenaline burning through his veins slicks his sweat-drenched hair back with his hand before throwing up those signature Nixon V's to mark the occasion.
Harvey: Callahan throws those Nixon V's high in the air, but wait! Delikado twists out and- LAST CALL TO CUBA!
At the last second, Callahan drops prone to the mat and the kick with the power of a bolt action rifle sails over his head and straight into the jaw of referee Dave Ronson, leaving him sprawled across the mat and out for the count.
Harvey: Callahan ducks and Delikado clocks the referee! Oh no!
Chase: AWH YES! Anything can happen now! Finish the job, bossman!
Delikado cares not for the referees well-being, but he does care that there's no official to count for when he beats Michael Callahan. He stares, almost in shock at his disastrous miss but for a moment too long as Callahan twirls him around and kicks him in the stomach again, hooking him in for for the ride of his life.
Harvey: And yet again with the kick to the stomach! It's Good Ol' Piledriver time!
Callahan drops Deli square on his neck with a beautifully executed Good Ol' Piledriver that makes a horrific sound as Kado's head bounces off the ground. The Cuban is out of it, and it seems academic from this point on!
Harvey: BAM! The most dangerous signature move in Callahan's arsenal connects! It's mere technicalities from this point on! Callahan is gonna' win this!
Chase: Hahahaha! Delikado got blasted!
Callahan takes position in the corner, aiming down the sights of an invisible rifle as Delikado very wearily pushes his way up to his feet.
Harvey: Callahan looking for the Victory Lock perhaps?! We've seen it used so many times before! Could this be the finale of his debut title defence on Overdrive?!
Of course, things never quite go to plan in wrestling.
Fan: Hey Callahan!
A voice in the crowd draws the champion's attentions.
Fan: You suck! You jackass!
Callahan turns to confront the mouthy fan, a man of about forty wearing an Anaheim Angels shirt to antagonise the champ further.
Callahan: Why don't you shut the hell up?
Harvey: Callahan having words with the fans here! Don't get distracted now!
Fan: You got yourself a medicine degree Callahan? Because you're a scrub! You jackass!
Callahan: What? That doesn't even make sense!
Callahan glares at the fan, staring daggers into him. All the while, Delikado is recovering in the ring.
Fan: What, you think you can intimidate me? You're as good a champion as you are a Mayor of Kelso! You jackass!
Callahan snaps. Freedom of speech be damned, that man is going to get a face full of fist. Callahan slides out the ring to square up to the troublemaker.
Callahan: Oh that is IT!
With a wry smirk, the fan “somewhat” cowers back into his seat but he's not afraid.
Fan: Alright, alright. I'll sit down.
Callahan grabs his popcorn bucket out of his hands and throws it at the crowd, much to the fans approval who literally eat it up. Callahan then gets back into the ring to see Deli covering himself up in the corner, but the fan from hell isn't quite finished.
Fan: Ya' jackass!
Callahan whirls around ready to go off on this guy, but before he can do that-
Boss Delikado: EY, PERRO! Pay attention!
Callahan whips back around to face Delikado only to catch a face full of ridiculously expensive loafer that The Boss has just launched at him, knocking Callahan clean unconscious from the shot to the nose.
KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! KAY! OHHHHHHHHHH YEAHHHHH!
The American Hero collapses on the mat like a sack of potatoes, and with no referee around there's not much that can be done. Delikado may have just pulled off his biggest heist yet!
Harvey: What the Hell! Callahan just got knocked out by one of Delikado's $30,000 Deli Dollar shoes!
Chase: Hahahahaha! Callahan's cabinet has just been given the boot!
Delikado practically collapses into the pinfall attempt, sprawled over Callahan as the referee slowly but groggily makes a count.
Harvey: And Delikado now, right into the cover! Is this it?!
1!
.
.
2!
.
.
3!
Paige: Here is your winner and the NEWWWW World Heavyweight Champion! He is The Bawse! He is the sexiest man in the world and in our immediate solar system, further information pending! He is scientifically proven to cause more parties than any other person in the history of the world, past, present, future and indeed fictional characters! DELIKADOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Harvey: And just like that, the Boss is finally running the company!
The referee hands Delikado his prize, much to his delight of the Cuban with the satisfied smirk sprawled across his face. He clutches his neck and raises the title as his theme song plays him out, worse for wear but victorious.
Chase: I honestly couldn't have been sad either way. One of these men was going to be champion. I coudln't lose!
Harvey: With the world championship around Delikado's waist, what will happen to APW now?!
–
When Callahan finally comes to, he does so not in the medical bay, a hospital or even the ring, but a prison cell guarded by a burly Hispanic gentleman with a moustache.
Michael Callahan: Where the Hell am I?
Prison Guard Sergio: You, cholo, are a prisoner of Delikado Land. Your trial will be coming soon for your wicked crimes.
Michael Callahan: Delikado Land? What? Let me out of here! You can't hold me prisoner! I demand to see my lawyer!
Prison Guard Sergio: Stupido Americano! You are not in your US of A now hombre. You are in Delikado Land!
Michael Callahan: No, that sign behind you has directions to the arena and the bathrooms. We're still in Panama City. Don't talk crap.
Prison Guard Sergio: Hahaha! Stupido Yankee pig-dog! The Roberto Duran Arena IS Delikado Land! You see, after he beat your moronico ass for your championship, his Bawseness struck a deal with the Panamanian government to secede the arena into his own wrestle-state. He gave them ten million Deli Dollars and promised them a Van Halen concert within the next twelve months, and in exchange he is able to establish this stadium as his own personal kingdom!
Callahan's hands grip tightly around the bars of his cell door, frustrated by this turn of events.
Michael Callahan: Van Halen... you brilliant, brilliant bastard Delikado.
PA System: 'ey, is this thing working? Fuck it! Bring me Prisoner number zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero three. Boss Delikado is bored!
Prison Guard Sergio: That's you, comepinga. Put your hands through the bars so I can handcuff you.
Callahan reluctantly does as is told and is promptly dragged up a spiral staircase for his “trial”. Before long, he stands in the APW arena which is now a court at the top of the entrance ramp. Boss Delikado sits upon an excessively high throne chair.
Court Clerk Raoul: All rise in the Supreme Court of Delikado! Prisoner #3-
Chief Justice Boss Delikado: Raoul! Read out his proper prisoner number.
Raoul stares back in disbelief.
Court Clerk Raoul: Really?
Chief Justice Boss Delikado: Do I kid around?
Court Clerk Raoul: Ugh... Alright. Prisoner #00000000000003, you are brought before the Supreme Court of Delikado, Delikado Land on charges of treason against Brotherly Leader, Mighty Emperor, Handsome Scholar and Lord of All Things Bawselike Delikado, and for attempting to usurp his glory by stealing his championship belt. Do you contest your guilt?
Michael Callahan: Of course I do. It was my championship that he stole. What is this madness, Delikado?
Chief Justice Boss Delikado: Madness? You saying I'm crazy? I'll cut your head off!
Michael Callahan: Do I not get legal representation? Extradition back to the US? Why the Hell is nobody doing anything to stop you seceding?
Chief Justice Boss Delikado: I gave your US diplomats tickets to my glorious Van Halen concert and they decided you were not worth the expense of bringing back home. Now, you are MY prisoner.
Callahan curses the name of David Lee Roth under his breath.
Michael Callahan: This is insanity! You won't get away with this!
Chief Justice Boss Delikado: Let's see what the jury has to say. Jury?
Delikado climbs down from his seat and makes his way over to “the jury bench”, which consists of three crash test dummies, a blow-up doll, a mouse in a cage and a sock puppet. Delikado puts on the puppet.
Jury Member Puppet: He is guilty! Kill the American!
Chief Justice Boss Delikado: As you can see by the overwhelming evidence given against your name, there is no doubt in anyone's mind that you are guilty of disgusting and evil crimes! Therefore, Boss Delikado sees fit to find you guilty of existence against Delikado, for which the only punishment is an execution!
Delikado pulls a revolver from his pocket and cocks back the hammer, pointing it at Callahan's head.
Michael Callahan: You can't kill me! You can't do this! You're a professional wrestler, not Idi Amin! Joke's over Deli! Fun and games is all over! You got me!
Chief Justice Boss Delikado: Boss Delikado NEVER tells jokes.
-BANG!-
-
When Callahan awakes, he is not in the arena nor is it even show day, and indeed he is still champion. Instead, he is being frightened awake by a nightmare on Dr. Gray's therapy couch.
Michael Callahan: Jesusshitfuckpiss!
Dr. Alexander Gray: I swear Mike, you need to stop falling asleep in my clinic.
Callahan ignores Gray in favour of an outburst.
Michael Callahan: Delikado is a blood hungry diktat who needs to be stopped!
Dr. Alexander Gray: Are you kidding? The guy is a moron.
Michael Callahan: No, no, no! APW's Fun Ambassador is a genius, a wolf in sheep's clothing. He's built this perfect facade for himself just like Phil Atken did. Atken's eccentricity was built around simple ignorance and “bad luck”, but when his cards were on the table Atken out-smarted every single one of us. He was unstoppable. Delikado is exactly the same, but instead of being ignorant he amplifies his image with extravagance!
Dr. Alexander Gray: Not everyone in this business is an evil mastermind in disguise Callahan. You are. Phil Atken is. I am. Delikado is just an idiot with too much money.
Michael punches Gray's desk in frustration with the fact he's not being taken seriously by his therapist.
Michael Callahan: No Alex! You're not listening to me. If Delikado becomes champion, he will take over APW from the inside. He will overthrow the administration. This is something he's done his entire life. He gets a scrap of power, he takes the ball and then he runs with it cradling a sub machine gun to shoot down any rat fuck who tries to take that ball away from him. They can't stop you scoring a touch-down when their defence is a pile of bloody carcasses at the halfway line.
Dr. Alexander Gray: You're exaggerating because you're afraid of him taking your championship. You don't want any vision of APW but your own.
Michael Callahan: Of course I don't. If he takes over, APW will become his own personal penthouse! The class and dignity that Overdrive has now will vanish over night! Suddenly, Overdrive will be inundated with heavies and goons who will secure his power! Every show will be on the beach, with cocktail drinks and topless underwear models and rock concerts! It'll be like a pool party at Sir Mix-A-Lot's house!
Gray pauses for a moment to think about it.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Is that a bad thing?
Michael Callahan: It is when you're trying to re-instil moral integrity into a dying, corrupted art form! Damn it, why won't you take this seriously Alex?!
Dr. Alexander Gray: You're really that concerned, aren't you Michael?
Michael Callahan: No! That's why I'm shouting at you for thinking me a fool!
Dr. Alexander Gray: Alright. I'll take care of this. I'll give you some expert advice from a man who knows ALL about dealing with Cuban fighters. GI! Come!
Michael Callahan: What? You expect him to teach me how to beat Delikado? All he can do is take abuse, mumble and occasionally have an outburst.
Dr. Alexander Gray: That's only when he knows I'm watching. I hold him in place, Mr. Callahan. When I'm gone? He reverts right back to his old self. Just you watch.
Dr. Alexander Gray: GI? I'm going out to run some errands, but Mr. Callahan here will keep you company. Is that okay?
The GI: Mumblemumblemumble...
Dr. Alexander Gray: Let me know if he yields any useful information.
Michael Callahan: Hello... GI.
GI's eyes suddenly lock onto Callahan's and the constant trembling expression fades into a sincere, determined confidence. Callahan is taken aback by the dramatic change.
The GI: Sir, I'd appreciate it if you referred to me as Corporal Zzyzx of Hurricane Battalion. Can I help you?
Michael Callahan: Uhh... yeahh. I've got a little problem that I need help with.
The GI: I can kill a man in fifty different ways. Give me their name, I'll give you their head.
Michael Callahan: No, no, no. Not like that. I'm defending my championship this week against Delikado.
The GI: The Cuban? Those islander maggots are a breeze. I've killed countless of those coconut eating bastards with my bare hands.
Michael Callahan: Is that so?
The GI: Absolutely. Y'see, during the Cold War, these sketchy Castro loving fucks caused a lot of mayhem that we had to deal with. Sadly, we averted nuclear crisis when we should've wiped those Commie scumbags out for good.
Michael Callahan: What do you have to do to deal with these guys?
The GI: Don't call them “guys”. It implies a masculine, human quality not befitting of Cubans. They are not virtuous, honest, “real” American human beings like you or I. They are cold, blood-less, Communist reptiles. You can't hurt them like a normal people. Bullets won't stop them. Instead, you crush their shells under your boot and destroy the nerve ending.
Michael Callahan: Cubans have a carapace?
The GI: Damn right. They'll crack open like a goose egg if you put enough pressure on them. That's what we got taught in boot camp. Just don't let your nerves kick in. Destroy it and eradicate it from existence. Cubans aren't human beings, they're an inferior reptile pest that need exterminating.
Michael Callahan: Is that all they taught you in basic training?
The GI: Be ruthless. I know you've been on the battle-field too. Have you ever killed anyone?
Michael Callahan: I've shot a man.
The GI: Get into that zone in your head. He's not a human being. He's a reptile and if it's not him? Then it's YOU. Show no mercy. Show no remorse. Don't give him an inch. When you get in the ring with Delikado, make that Commie cock-sucker pay. Kick him so hard in the teeth even fucking Castro will feel it! Hahahaha! You got that?
Michael Callahan: Right, I-
Dr. Gray opens the door once again and the colourful GI instantly reverts to the timid and reserved PTSD soldier. He begins mumbling once more as Dr. Gray wrings his hands gleefully.
Dr. Alexander Gray: I trust that was helpful?
Michael Callahan: Completely...
Dr. Alexander Gray: I'm glad. If there's anything further I can to calm your quivering nerves, please, don't hesitate to ask me.
Michael Callahan: No, I think I'll be going now. I need to get ready for my flight.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Don't worry about Delikado. He is no big deal. And we will be there, rooting for you at ring-side.
Suspicious of Gray's intentions, Callahan folds his arms and gives Gray a dirty look.
Michael Callahan: Ensure that all you are do is providing “moral” support. I don't want nor need your help to win my battles. Delikado is going to do everything in his power to try and take this belt away from me, but I've worked too damn long and too damn hard to give it up to him now. I see Delikado for what he is, a cruel tyrant with a penchant for excess and a thirst for the suffering of others. The second I start playing his stupid games is the second he stabs me from the shadows and takes away everything I have. That's how his kind work and I simply can not allow that to happen. I must beat Delikado myself.
Callahan heads for the door so that he can go prepare for his flight out to Panama for his first ever Overdrive.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Atta'boy. Go kick some Cuban ass!
Michael Callahan: I will. Thank you Gray for everything, and thank you too GI.
Callahan turns and nods his respect to GI who simply stares vacantly at the fruit bowl in front of him, hungry for a banana but unwilling to ask Gray for one.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Why're you thanking GI? The boy is a psychological cripple and not worth the clothes he wears.
Michael Callahan: Because he's smarter than he lets on. It maybe misguided, propaganda bullshit but there's truth in what he says. The colour of the wool that the wolf is wearing is irrelevant. The masks that they wear the same. In the end, when there's a will there's a weapon and everyone has a weakness. I have to go out there, find Delikado's and stop him from taking my title and my future for APW. I've been thrown into the deep end with this brand swap, but damn it, I am Michael Joshua Callahan. I am a born survivor. I RELISH in adversity and challenges. Ever since Day 1, I've spat in the face of the odds and this will be no exception. I will put an end and out Delikado for the true monster that he is! And that Dr. Gray? That... is a promise.
And with that, Callahan is out the door and on his merry way. Standing atop the diving board of a very steep pool of talent, one has to wonder if Callahan will sink or swim in his foray into the world of Overdrive. The odds re stacked against The American Hero, but if there's anyone to be relied upon to brave it then it's Michael Callahan.
