Post by The Paragon of Hardcore on Dec 22, 2008 21:39:29 GMT -4
*The Pirated Video Feed of The Blacwells' Personal Cameraman, Emrys returns to show the expansive outside parking lot of the Nassau Collesium in Uniondale, Long Island, New York. Its somewhere around 7PM. The lot is huge and empty and a 20 degree chill snaps the air and makes it necessary for Emrys to zip up his jacket and wear gloves so that his hands to hurt from the cold steel of the camera. Cutting through the cold like one of Kristina Blackwell's Stiletto Blades is a noxious cloud of exhaust that forms seemingly out of nowhere. The cloud chokes the scene until it pelts the camera lens with dust and small pebbles. From out of this cloud bursts a familiar 1979 Harley Davidson Fatboy like an iconoclast... a horseman of the apocolypse. Seemingly unheeded by the bitter, frigid air, it's rider doesn't even bother with a helmet. His jet black hair is tied back in the same ponytail we saw earlier at the Chinese Restaurant. His red and black duffel bag slung over his shoulder, the colors a sharp contrast to the ice blue eyes that shine from the darkness of his soul. He is the King of Hardcore... The Excellence of Extreme... The Hardcore Icon... "The Career Killer" Trevor Blackwell... and he will be your next APW World Heavyweight Champion whether you like it or not. Seated behind him with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist is a true soulless demon. They call her Tabitha Crowley and her recent presence in Trevor Blackwell's life only serves to make him an even more formidable creature of destruction.
The APW Faithful form a line that literally wraps around the Nassau Collesium three times. Tickets to Christmas Chaos have been sold out since moments after it's announcement yet The Faithful still stand in the freezing night as the two warriors pull into their parking space. Suddenly the crowd breaks... all hopes of being the first into the arena forgotten as they rush their hero. Tabitha hides behind her King of Hardcore, wanting no part of this throng of humanity, a hand wrapped around the hilt of her Bowie Knife in case excessive force becomes necessary... or more realistically if an excuse presents itself. For his part, Trevor Blackwell just spreads his arms in a mighty Crucifix Pose, embracing his loyal subjects as we're treated to a repeat of the scene from earlier but on a much larger scale. They beg for pictures. They beg for autographs. They beg for handshakes. Each wanting their piece of The Career Killer. Each wanting a memory that will last them for lifetimes. For two agonizingly cold hours, Trevor Blackwell gives each and every one of them exactly what they ask of him. He mugs for photographs. He signs his name over and over again before finally letting Security do their job, pushing back the crowd and ushering the superstars into he building.
The double metal doors close with a CLANG of finality... muting the roar of the crowd and plunging them into a blessed silence that is broken by a single voice:*
"You really make me sick, y'know that?"
*Tabitha Crowley mumbles her agreement...*
Tabitha: My sentiments exactly...
*...before realizing that the voice didn't come from inside her own head. The two of them wheel around, each with a weapon in hand to find none other the Dr. Matt leaning against a wall with his arms folded. Trevor instinctively steps in front of Tabitha protectively. She snorts in disgust and independence before stepping out from behind her "guardian", brandishing her knife menacingly. Before they have a chance to fire back an equally scathing retort, Dr. Matt continues on, kicking off of the wall and stepping drunkenly to stand nose to nose with the Excellence of Extreme.*
Dr. Matt: I never did understand that about you, Trevor. In all the years that I've known you... In all of the wrestling federations that we've competed in, I never understood your desperate need for their approval. Why do you care? What the fuck have any of your supposed "Faithful" done for your career? Sure, they love you... but have they ever really helped you win a match? Have they ever put gold around your waist? Did they stop you from breaking your neck? Why? Why do they matter so much to you?
*Trevor just smirks. Tabitha looks up at him in astonishment. Here is his hated adversary, Dr. Matt? She half expected him to lay him out with his Singapore Cane... And he's just smiling?*
Trevor: That's what seperates you and me, Matt. I know where my bread is buttered. I know who pays my checks. I put their asses in those seats and they keep coming back for more because of me. I'm one of the biggest draws this business has ever seen. These are my people. I love those fans outside most of all because they are my family. This is my hometown. I grew up out here and in front of them, I'm going to become the new APW World Heavyweight Champi-
*Dr. Matt cuts him off mid-sentence... speaking in quick clipped tones, spit flying from his lips and splattering on The Hardcore Icon's cheek as he talks... and still, he just tightens his grip on his Singapore Cane... Is "The Career Killer" Trevor Blackwell actually showing... restraint?*
Dr. Matt: No you won't! You're going to fucking choke just like you have at the last few Pay Per Views. Just like you did in your Iron Man Match against Kenny Lambardo. Just like you did in your Last Man Standing Match against Kenny a month later. Just like you did in that Street Fight against Matt Metal. Just like you did against ME in that Double Dog Collar Match. I have your number, Career Killer. We all do. No one REALLY fears you anymore. Sure you get your wins on Overdrive. Sure you make them love you in your promos. Sure you're one of the most brutal motherfuckers anyone can face in a ring. You break bones. You make people bleed. You put your body on the line. You're one crazy son of a bitch. But when it comes down to it... when it REALLY comes down to it in the end, you always get your shoulders pinned. You always choke in the big match situations. You choked back in January in that Fatal Four Way Ladder Match. And you choked against Kenny Lambardo. What is this, your FOURTH World Title shot this year?! You're great at making it to the big game but you never, ever get the job done... I don't even know why I'm bothering... its not like I'm telling you anything you don't already know...
*The Good Doctor puts a shoulder into Trevor Blackwell as he almost literally walks through him to get past him and continue down the hall. The Excellence of Extreme doesn't even turn. He just shakes with rage. Tabitha Crowley looks up at him questioningly... wondering if this was still the same man she had fallen in love wth or if he really was going soft like everyone says. Dr. Matt just walks away, his voice and his words echoing down the hallway behind him straight into Blackwell's ears.*
Dr. Matt: I'm not afraid of you, Trevor... Neither is Sabur... You've lost your fire and you'll lose your title shot on Sunday. I'll get over the cuts and bumps and bruises and beatings that you give me. So will Sabur. And you still won't be Champion.
*And with those last words the smarmy little bastard laughs. He actually laughs! And as that laughter echoes from the walls of the empty hallway... echoes through the skull of the King of Hardcore he just snaps. Just like that, the chains of restraint are broken. All composure that he had is shattered and The Career Killer launches from his feet. His Singapore Cane cracks across the back of Dr. Matt's head and he slumps face first to the floor in shock and pain. Beaming, Tabitha Crowley hurries up behind him. This is what she was waiting for. Dr. Matt tries to get up on his hands and knees and Trevor plants a boot firmly into Dr. Matt's back.*
Trevor: NO! STAY THE FUCK DOWN! I let you have your say and now you're going to fucking listen to me. I can't stand how all you assholes run your mouth lately. Everyone who cuts a promo against me these days says the same thing. I'm distracted. I'm a choke artist. I can't cut it anymore. Don't any of you have lives outside of this fucking business anymore??? Back before Skyler's mother died and she became a 24/7 commitment for me, I ran this fucking place. I may not have been World Champion but that's because I didn't come in here looking for it. I got thrown into that Fatal Four Way Ladder Match with John Green and Gordon Shumway and Vinnie HaRdCoRe way back at New Year's Revolution because I was the best one here. And for the record, the only reason I didn't walk out with the belt then was because of outside interference. I didn't want to be World Champion. I wanted to be the most Hardcore Motherfucker anyone in this industry had ever seen. I'd been World Champion before and I didn't need that belt to prove that I was the biggest draw in the business. My fans that you say never did anything for me proved that night in and night out by chanting my name louder then anyone else on the roster. I got exactly what it was that I wanted out of my career in APW. I became the first ever APW Xtreme Heavyweight Champion. Before I dropped the title to my brother and he let it become the worthless piece of tin that it is now... I made that belt second only to the World Title on every card. I made my matches the show stealer every single fucking night. John Green had everyone and their mother wanting a shot at his belt. NO ONE wanted to challenge me for mine. NO ONE wanted to put their bodies through what they had to by getting in the ring with me for MY belt. I was what put asses in these seats. I was what pushed pay per view buyrates and if you ask any of the fucking fans lined up outside right now they'll still tell you that I'm the main fucking reason that they're here. I dropped that title for the better of APW. Because no one else was capable of challenging Kenny Lambardo for the World Title after he wrested it away from that talentless loser, John Green. Without that belt, my matches are still the most watched match on the show. I've had my issues over the last few months. The Trevor Blackwell that you were seeing on Overdrives and PPVs wasn't the same Trevor Blackwell of old. My mind wasn't as focused as it needed to be so, yeah, I dropped a bunch of big matches to pieces of shit like you that weren't nearly as good or nearly the draw that I am. And do you notice something? The last match that I wasn't fully here for was my Dog Collar Match with you. And since then I haven't lost one match...
*Dr. Matt pushes up a bit, spitting blood from the busted lip that going face first into the concrete gave him. His speech comes out a bit slurred... and it isn't just because of all the alcohol he's imbibed tonight.*
Dr. Matt: You've only had one match since the-
*With a scream of rage, The King of Hardcore brings his boot down on the back of Dr. Matt's head, smashing him back face first into the floor, chipping one of his front teeth on the cold concrete, curbing him like this was American History X.*
Trevor: Did it sound like I was done talking??? That's your fucking problem, Matt. You never know when to shut the fuck up... You never know when to defer to your betters. But tonight, you'll learn...
*He motions towards Tabitha and she grabs Dr. Matt by the hair, lifting him up slightly, blood running down his chin. She kneels in front of Dr. Matt as The Career Killer takes his hair from her, his lips close to Dr. Matt's ear, his voice cold and calm and menacing.*
Trevor: Tonight you'll learn, Matt. Tonight it will all end. You talk about me like I'm a has-been. You're a never-was, Matt. Despite being called a legend by all these young kids, you've never actually done anything legendary. You lost a match to Hurricane Jeff at Rasslemania. You were one half of a legendary tag team. But you didn't have any memorable World Title reigns. You've never really done anything to leave your mark but act as a perfect "Say No To Drugs" spokesperson for the next generation. Say No To Drugs... or you may end up wasting your career like Dr. Matt. Tonight, I'll drive that all home... with every shot of my Singapore Cane... with every strand of barbed wire I attempt to decapitate you with... with every shard of broken glass I try to remove one of your eyes with... with every blast of C4 I use to try to end your sorry junkie existence. Tonight....
*He motions to to Tabitha and she gets to her feet, backing up a few paces, blowing Dr. Matt a kiss.*
Trevor: Tonight...
*Tabitha Crowley takes off at a sprint and field goal kicks Dr. Matt in the teeth, knocking his lights out. The camera fades away at the same time as his consciousness does... Trevor Blackwell's words accompanying the blackness.*
Trevor: Tonight... we shut your mouth for you...
The APW Faithful form a line that literally wraps around the Nassau Collesium three times. Tickets to Christmas Chaos have been sold out since moments after it's announcement yet The Faithful still stand in the freezing night as the two warriors pull into their parking space. Suddenly the crowd breaks... all hopes of being the first into the arena forgotten as they rush their hero. Tabitha hides behind her King of Hardcore, wanting no part of this throng of humanity, a hand wrapped around the hilt of her Bowie Knife in case excessive force becomes necessary... or more realistically if an excuse presents itself. For his part, Trevor Blackwell just spreads his arms in a mighty Crucifix Pose, embracing his loyal subjects as we're treated to a repeat of the scene from earlier but on a much larger scale. They beg for pictures. They beg for autographs. They beg for handshakes. Each wanting their piece of The Career Killer. Each wanting a memory that will last them for lifetimes. For two agonizingly cold hours, Trevor Blackwell gives each and every one of them exactly what they ask of him. He mugs for photographs. He signs his name over and over again before finally letting Security do their job, pushing back the crowd and ushering the superstars into he building.
The double metal doors close with a CLANG of finality... muting the roar of the crowd and plunging them into a blessed silence that is broken by a single voice:*
"You really make me sick, y'know that?"
*Tabitha Crowley mumbles her agreement...*
Tabitha: My sentiments exactly...
*...before realizing that the voice didn't come from inside her own head. The two of them wheel around, each with a weapon in hand to find none other the Dr. Matt leaning against a wall with his arms folded. Trevor instinctively steps in front of Tabitha protectively. She snorts in disgust and independence before stepping out from behind her "guardian", brandishing her knife menacingly. Before they have a chance to fire back an equally scathing retort, Dr. Matt continues on, kicking off of the wall and stepping drunkenly to stand nose to nose with the Excellence of Extreme.*
Dr. Matt: I never did understand that about you, Trevor. In all the years that I've known you... In all of the wrestling federations that we've competed in, I never understood your desperate need for their approval. Why do you care? What the fuck have any of your supposed "Faithful" done for your career? Sure, they love you... but have they ever really helped you win a match? Have they ever put gold around your waist? Did they stop you from breaking your neck? Why? Why do they matter so much to you?
*Trevor just smirks. Tabitha looks up at him in astonishment. Here is his hated adversary, Dr. Matt? She half expected him to lay him out with his Singapore Cane... And he's just smiling?*
Trevor: That's what seperates you and me, Matt. I know where my bread is buttered. I know who pays my checks. I put their asses in those seats and they keep coming back for more because of me. I'm one of the biggest draws this business has ever seen. These are my people. I love those fans outside most of all because they are my family. This is my hometown. I grew up out here and in front of them, I'm going to become the new APW World Heavyweight Champi-
*Dr. Matt cuts him off mid-sentence... speaking in quick clipped tones, spit flying from his lips and splattering on The Hardcore Icon's cheek as he talks... and still, he just tightens his grip on his Singapore Cane... Is "The Career Killer" Trevor Blackwell actually showing... restraint?*
Dr. Matt: No you won't! You're going to fucking choke just like you have at the last few Pay Per Views. Just like you did in your Iron Man Match against Kenny Lambardo. Just like you did in your Last Man Standing Match against Kenny a month later. Just like you did in that Street Fight against Matt Metal. Just like you did against ME in that Double Dog Collar Match. I have your number, Career Killer. We all do. No one REALLY fears you anymore. Sure you get your wins on Overdrive. Sure you make them love you in your promos. Sure you're one of the most brutal motherfuckers anyone can face in a ring. You break bones. You make people bleed. You put your body on the line. You're one crazy son of a bitch. But when it comes down to it... when it REALLY comes down to it in the end, you always get your shoulders pinned. You always choke in the big match situations. You choked back in January in that Fatal Four Way Ladder Match. And you choked against Kenny Lambardo. What is this, your FOURTH World Title shot this year?! You're great at making it to the big game but you never, ever get the job done... I don't even know why I'm bothering... its not like I'm telling you anything you don't already know...
*The Good Doctor puts a shoulder into Trevor Blackwell as he almost literally walks through him to get past him and continue down the hall. The Excellence of Extreme doesn't even turn. He just shakes with rage. Tabitha Crowley looks up at him questioningly... wondering if this was still the same man she had fallen in love wth or if he really was going soft like everyone says. Dr. Matt just walks away, his voice and his words echoing down the hallway behind him straight into Blackwell's ears.*
Dr. Matt: I'm not afraid of you, Trevor... Neither is Sabur... You've lost your fire and you'll lose your title shot on Sunday. I'll get over the cuts and bumps and bruises and beatings that you give me. So will Sabur. And you still won't be Champion.
*And with those last words the smarmy little bastard laughs. He actually laughs! And as that laughter echoes from the walls of the empty hallway... echoes through the skull of the King of Hardcore he just snaps. Just like that, the chains of restraint are broken. All composure that he had is shattered and The Career Killer launches from his feet. His Singapore Cane cracks across the back of Dr. Matt's head and he slumps face first to the floor in shock and pain. Beaming, Tabitha Crowley hurries up behind him. This is what she was waiting for. Dr. Matt tries to get up on his hands and knees and Trevor plants a boot firmly into Dr. Matt's back.*
Trevor: NO! STAY THE FUCK DOWN! I let you have your say and now you're going to fucking listen to me. I can't stand how all you assholes run your mouth lately. Everyone who cuts a promo against me these days says the same thing. I'm distracted. I'm a choke artist. I can't cut it anymore. Don't any of you have lives outside of this fucking business anymore??? Back before Skyler's mother died and she became a 24/7 commitment for me, I ran this fucking place. I may not have been World Champion but that's because I didn't come in here looking for it. I got thrown into that Fatal Four Way Ladder Match with John Green and Gordon Shumway and Vinnie HaRdCoRe way back at New Year's Revolution because I was the best one here. And for the record, the only reason I didn't walk out with the belt then was because of outside interference. I didn't want to be World Champion. I wanted to be the most Hardcore Motherfucker anyone in this industry had ever seen. I'd been World Champion before and I didn't need that belt to prove that I was the biggest draw in the business. My fans that you say never did anything for me proved that night in and night out by chanting my name louder then anyone else on the roster. I got exactly what it was that I wanted out of my career in APW. I became the first ever APW Xtreme Heavyweight Champion. Before I dropped the title to my brother and he let it become the worthless piece of tin that it is now... I made that belt second only to the World Title on every card. I made my matches the show stealer every single fucking night. John Green had everyone and their mother wanting a shot at his belt. NO ONE wanted to challenge me for mine. NO ONE wanted to put their bodies through what they had to by getting in the ring with me for MY belt. I was what put asses in these seats. I was what pushed pay per view buyrates and if you ask any of the fucking fans lined up outside right now they'll still tell you that I'm the main fucking reason that they're here. I dropped that title for the better of APW. Because no one else was capable of challenging Kenny Lambardo for the World Title after he wrested it away from that talentless loser, John Green. Without that belt, my matches are still the most watched match on the show. I've had my issues over the last few months. The Trevor Blackwell that you were seeing on Overdrives and PPVs wasn't the same Trevor Blackwell of old. My mind wasn't as focused as it needed to be so, yeah, I dropped a bunch of big matches to pieces of shit like you that weren't nearly as good or nearly the draw that I am. And do you notice something? The last match that I wasn't fully here for was my Dog Collar Match with you. And since then I haven't lost one match...
*Dr. Matt pushes up a bit, spitting blood from the busted lip that going face first into the concrete gave him. His speech comes out a bit slurred... and it isn't just because of all the alcohol he's imbibed tonight.*
Dr. Matt: You've only had one match since the-
*With a scream of rage, The King of Hardcore brings his boot down on the back of Dr. Matt's head, smashing him back face first into the floor, chipping one of his front teeth on the cold concrete, curbing him like this was American History X.*
Trevor: Did it sound like I was done talking??? That's your fucking problem, Matt. You never know when to shut the fuck up... You never know when to defer to your betters. But tonight, you'll learn...
*He motions towards Tabitha and she grabs Dr. Matt by the hair, lifting him up slightly, blood running down his chin. She kneels in front of Dr. Matt as The Career Killer takes his hair from her, his lips close to Dr. Matt's ear, his voice cold and calm and menacing.*
Trevor: Tonight you'll learn, Matt. Tonight it will all end. You talk about me like I'm a has-been. You're a never-was, Matt. Despite being called a legend by all these young kids, you've never actually done anything legendary. You lost a match to Hurricane Jeff at Rasslemania. You were one half of a legendary tag team. But you didn't have any memorable World Title reigns. You've never really done anything to leave your mark but act as a perfect "Say No To Drugs" spokesperson for the next generation. Say No To Drugs... or you may end up wasting your career like Dr. Matt. Tonight, I'll drive that all home... with every shot of my Singapore Cane... with every strand of barbed wire I attempt to decapitate you with... with every shard of broken glass I try to remove one of your eyes with... with every blast of C4 I use to try to end your sorry junkie existence. Tonight....
*He motions to to Tabitha and she gets to her feet, backing up a few paces, blowing Dr. Matt a kiss.*
Trevor: Tonight...
*Tabitha Crowley takes off at a sprint and field goal kicks Dr. Matt in the teeth, knocking his lights out. The camera fades away at the same time as his consciousness does... Trevor Blackwell's words accompanying the blackness.*
Trevor: Tonight... we shut your mouth for you...
