Post by C.J. Gates on Dec 3, 2010 1:57:24 GMT -4
"Where the hell is this guy?"
The scene opens up outside of a gym on a cool day at noon. A few cars line the parking lot, and one man stands near the front doors wearing a pair of black pants, black boots, brown sweater and a long black jacket. He glances down at his watch and then looks up and down the parking lot. As he does, he catches sight of someone coming towards him wearing a suit made up of sweats with brown dreadlocks and rolls his eyes, taking a few steps away.
"Yo! Pookie! Where ya goin', cuz?"
The man, presumably Pookie, tries to ignore the on comer, who persists and puts his arm around him.
"What's goin' on? You doggin' me?"
"No, Mookie, I'm just not in the mood to see you."
"Why? What's wrong, Pookie?"
Pookie takes a step away and spins around.
"I told you not to call me that. Ever since we were little, I told you never to call me that. Call me by my real name man."
"Or what? You gonna tell yo' mommy?"
"No...No I won't. But...I just don't like being called that man. My name is Caleb. Not Pookie."
"I know, I know, but, I never liked how Caleb LaBraun sounded, y'know?"
"It is what it is."
"And when we was runnin' together, Caleb and Mookie didn't work. Needed a connection."
"And Pookie was it?"
"Natch, man. What else? Gookie?"
Pookie rolls his eyes again and paces on the spot.
"So, what'cha doin' here? Lookin' to get your weights on?"
"No, I'm not looking to 'get my weights on'. I'm here to meet someone."
"Oh? A chick? You meetin' a chick? Look at Pookie, mackin' on tha ladies."
"I do mack on ladies, but that's not why I'm here. I'm here to meet a client."
"Client? You back in the management game?"
"Possibly."
"So what's his name?"
"Don't worry about it. Just worry about your own band of misfits."
"Ah, yeah, I do have those guys. But, y'know, I'm all about bigger talent. Bigger and better."
"Bigger than Doomsday?"
"Damn right. Hey, y'know what, I've got an idea."
"What's that?"
"We meet up with your boy, and then hold a little meetin' between our clients and see who wins, naw'm'sayin'?"
Pookie shakes his head.
"I do, but no."
"Oh, c'mon, man! It'll be fun. Just like tha old day, dig?"
"No, Mi---"
"Mookie. Don't you forget that man, I gotta uphold my image."
"Image? In that get up?"
"What'd'ya mean? This is class to the tee, Pookie. Class to the effing tee."
"Whatever. Alright. I'm going to see if he's inside. So, I'll talk to you later. Maybe we'll see you at Aunt Myrtle's?"
"You kiddin'? I want to see what kinda chump you've got."
Pookie pays no attention to him and walks past him into the gym, with Mookie following. The reach the front desk, still wearing their jackets and after noticing the members only sign, Pookie asks the clerk if anyone is inside. The clerk nods and leads the two of them past the desk into the gym where the sound of metal on metal is all that can be heard, drowning out the piped music from the speakers.
"Anyone look familiar?"
"Yep. He's right there. Mind if I---
"We..."
"Mind if we talk to him for a minute?"
"Sure. Knock yourselves out."
Pookie walks forward quickly, towards the seemingly lone exerciser who is bench pressing weights. He clears his throat, but the man doesn't move. He tries to get his attention again, this time by yelling.
"Hey, big guy! Put those weights down a minute!"
The man does one more rep before stopping and sitting up on the bench. As he does, he is recognized as the newest member to the IWC, Rico Casteel. He grabs a nearby towel and wipes the sweat from his face and bald head, before draping it over his right shoulder. He takes a deep breath before reaching down and picking up a water bottle, opening it and taking a drink.
"Dude! This guy again?"
"Mookie, shut up!"
"You two are exactly the same, aren't you? You never change."
"But you do. You're looking better now then you did before."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"I don't know, figured you would have given up trying to look big and beefy doing all that factory work."
"That 'factory work' was just a warm up for my night sessions at the gym."
"You still fightin' big man?"
"Well, yes and no."
"Come again?"
"Didn't Pookie tell you?"
Mookie shakes his head.
"He never tells me nothin'."
"Then why are you here?"
"Was going to get a sesh in myself."
"Likely story."
"Well, there are usually girls here, that makes it all the better."
"Anyways, I'm not fighting in the sense that you think I am. I gave up the whole mixed martial arts thing. I've recently gotten onto the professional wrestling bandwagon."
"That's right up my alley, man."
"I know. But I'm not looking for a manager."
"Because he's already found on in me."
Rico shakes his head.
"No, Caleb, not you. I'm not getting a manager. I've got people who have taken a big chance on me, and I don't want to screw that up by bringing in any of you fuckwads. You'd just screw everything up."
"You don't know what your sayin' man!"
"I think I do. Look what you did in the last place that allowed you to sign."
"I was tha Commissioner!"
"For ten minutes. Then the place closed. You didn't really do anything."
"I could take you places."
"I'm going to go places on my own, okay?"
"But is that really what you want? Why can't we get the band back together? Caleb and Rico, ruling the world on punch at a time."
"Because I don't need you. I am going to do this on my own. Last time either of you helped me, you screwed things up for me. So, if the two of you will excuse me, I'll let you wipe down my machine."
Rico gets up from the bench and walks away, tossing his towel into the face of Pookie. Mookie laughs as Pookie takes the towel off his face revealing a scowl.
"Man, you got told."
"It's not over. He needs me as much as I need him."
Mookie shakes his head and claps Pookie on the shoulder as the scene fades to black.
"Focus. Everyone needs it, no matter the job. And in this line of work, a lack of focus will cost you everything. It will cost you your job, it could cost your your family, and it could definitely cost you your livelihood. I have my first match in IWC coming up, and I need to stay focused and I need to stay sharp. I need to maintain my strength so that I can make my current and all future opponents look like bottom of the barrel.
"Last week, I tried to show everyone that I meant business. I tried to get the message across that I am not one to be messed with. That when I want something I will take it. I wanted everyone to listen, so I made it happen. Sure it was at the expense of some masked up freak talking to the shadows, but that's how it's going to be. If someone gets in my way, I will just steam roll them out of my way. And if they keep popping back up, then I will make sure they stay down.
"And with the Blackwells running around here, one always has to be ready for anything. One always has to be ready for the unexpected. I know that all of my mixed martial arts training will help me in some aspects, but in others I will have to rely on pure instinct. The primal nature that one has to do nothing but fight. That desire to watch their own fists pound through someone’s skull. Because that's what drives me. Nothing makes me smile more than a good, solid fight.
"Which is why this weeks match is just what the doctor ordered. Word around the roster is that Madok is all about competition. That he is all about a good, solid battle. So there is no where better to start than against a man who can understand my desire to fight. My desire to leave someone broken in the middle of the ring.
"I am no stranger to people who are loaded with money. I grew up with many of them, I hung around with many of them when I was doing the whole MMA thing. My best friend is C.J. Gates, another man that is loaded with money and doing the whole wrestling thing just for the thrill of the fight. Though, the difference between the two of you is that you are probably more accustomed to a militarized edge.
"But all of those weapons and military units won't help you this week. They won't help you any week, really. This is my first match in IWC, and I plan to make it one to remember. I plan to turn it into a match that everyone will remember as the night wears on. Even after the main event, they will still be remembering what I did to poor old Madok Mortalis. That the ego this man possesses got him into a wee bit of trouble with the Loose Cannon.
"Because the nickname is more than just a funny little quirk. It's my way of life. It's my code when I am inside of that ring. I don't let anyone walk all over me, and I'll be damned if I start with my first match. But I'm sure you can understand that, right Madok? Because as far as I can tell, this is your first match, too. This is your chance to sort of get your name out there after your failed attempt to succeed in APW. Even your friends in high places won't help you, but I expect that you want no help. I expect that my last statement probably irked your mind, right?
"Good. Because what else can I really use to get under your skin? I don't know you. I've never seen you fight. And I'm a bit too old for name calling, though I guess not everyone can follow that creed. All I can go on right now, is what the rumor mill has been spilling about you. And even though you might not care for what anyone has to say about you, because you're living on the edge, they are talking about you.
"Some people are saying good things. Some aren't. And after our little match at the Asylum show, they'll be wondering only one thing. One little thing that will be nipping at everyone’s brain stems, and casting a shadow of doubt on your boy Pence Weatherlight.
"Will Madok turn tail and run away again? Will he try and play cowboys and indians one more time before he rides off into the sunset again? Who knows. I'd like to think that you would stick around so that everyone could get some cheap and easy wins over you. So that we could all get a step ahead, while you are stuck trying to figure out where you are going. Sorting out what you will do.
"I guess I'll see you in the ring, Madok. Hopefully you hold up your end of the bargain and can focus enough to make this match worth my time. Because I will surely make it worth yours."
The scene opens up outside of a gym on a cool day at noon. A few cars line the parking lot, and one man stands near the front doors wearing a pair of black pants, black boots, brown sweater and a long black jacket. He glances down at his watch and then looks up and down the parking lot. As he does, he catches sight of someone coming towards him wearing a suit made up of sweats with brown dreadlocks and rolls his eyes, taking a few steps away.
"Yo! Pookie! Where ya goin', cuz?"
The man, presumably Pookie, tries to ignore the on comer, who persists and puts his arm around him.
"What's goin' on? You doggin' me?"
"No, Mookie, I'm just not in the mood to see you."
"Why? What's wrong, Pookie?"
Pookie takes a step away and spins around.
"I told you not to call me that. Ever since we were little, I told you never to call me that. Call me by my real name man."
"Or what? You gonna tell yo' mommy?"
"No...No I won't. But...I just don't like being called that man. My name is Caleb. Not Pookie."
"I know, I know, but, I never liked how Caleb LaBraun sounded, y'know?"
"It is what it is."
"And when we was runnin' together, Caleb and Mookie didn't work. Needed a connection."
"And Pookie was it?"
"Natch, man. What else? Gookie?"
Pookie rolls his eyes again and paces on the spot.
"So, what'cha doin' here? Lookin' to get your weights on?"
"No, I'm not looking to 'get my weights on'. I'm here to meet someone."
"Oh? A chick? You meetin' a chick? Look at Pookie, mackin' on tha ladies."
"I do mack on ladies, but that's not why I'm here. I'm here to meet a client."
"Client? You back in the management game?"
"Possibly."
"So what's his name?"
"Don't worry about it. Just worry about your own band of misfits."
"Ah, yeah, I do have those guys. But, y'know, I'm all about bigger talent. Bigger and better."
"Bigger than Doomsday?"
"Damn right. Hey, y'know what, I've got an idea."
"What's that?"
"We meet up with your boy, and then hold a little meetin' between our clients and see who wins, naw'm'sayin'?"
Pookie shakes his head.
"I do, but no."
"Oh, c'mon, man! It'll be fun. Just like tha old day, dig?"
"No, Mi---"
"Mookie. Don't you forget that man, I gotta uphold my image."
"Image? In that get up?"
"What'd'ya mean? This is class to the tee, Pookie. Class to the effing tee."
"Whatever. Alright. I'm going to see if he's inside. So, I'll talk to you later. Maybe we'll see you at Aunt Myrtle's?"
"You kiddin'? I want to see what kinda chump you've got."
Pookie pays no attention to him and walks past him into the gym, with Mookie following. The reach the front desk, still wearing their jackets and after noticing the members only sign, Pookie asks the clerk if anyone is inside. The clerk nods and leads the two of them past the desk into the gym where the sound of metal on metal is all that can be heard, drowning out the piped music from the speakers.
"Anyone look familiar?"
"Yep. He's right there. Mind if I---
"We..."
"Mind if we talk to him for a minute?"
"Sure. Knock yourselves out."
Pookie walks forward quickly, towards the seemingly lone exerciser who is bench pressing weights. He clears his throat, but the man doesn't move. He tries to get his attention again, this time by yelling.
"Hey, big guy! Put those weights down a minute!"
The man does one more rep before stopping and sitting up on the bench. As he does, he is recognized as the newest member to the IWC, Rico Casteel. He grabs a nearby towel and wipes the sweat from his face and bald head, before draping it over his right shoulder. He takes a deep breath before reaching down and picking up a water bottle, opening it and taking a drink.
"Dude! This guy again?"
"Mookie, shut up!"
"You two are exactly the same, aren't you? You never change."
"But you do. You're looking better now then you did before."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"I don't know, figured you would have given up trying to look big and beefy doing all that factory work."
"That 'factory work' was just a warm up for my night sessions at the gym."
"You still fightin' big man?"
"Well, yes and no."
"Come again?"
"Didn't Pookie tell you?"
Mookie shakes his head.
"He never tells me nothin'."
"Then why are you here?"
"Was going to get a sesh in myself."
"Likely story."
"Well, there are usually girls here, that makes it all the better."
"Anyways, I'm not fighting in the sense that you think I am. I gave up the whole mixed martial arts thing. I've recently gotten onto the professional wrestling bandwagon."
"That's right up my alley, man."
"I know. But I'm not looking for a manager."
"Because he's already found on in me."
Rico shakes his head.
"No, Caleb, not you. I'm not getting a manager. I've got people who have taken a big chance on me, and I don't want to screw that up by bringing in any of you fuckwads. You'd just screw everything up."
"You don't know what your sayin' man!"
"I think I do. Look what you did in the last place that allowed you to sign."
"I was tha Commissioner!"
"For ten minutes. Then the place closed. You didn't really do anything."
"I could take you places."
"I'm going to go places on my own, okay?"
"But is that really what you want? Why can't we get the band back together? Caleb and Rico, ruling the world on punch at a time."
"Because I don't need you. I am going to do this on my own. Last time either of you helped me, you screwed things up for me. So, if the two of you will excuse me, I'll let you wipe down my machine."
Rico gets up from the bench and walks away, tossing his towel into the face of Pookie. Mookie laughs as Pookie takes the towel off his face revealing a scowl.
"Man, you got told."
"It's not over. He needs me as much as I need him."
Mookie shakes his head and claps Pookie on the shoulder as the scene fades to black.
"Focus. Everyone needs it, no matter the job. And in this line of work, a lack of focus will cost you everything. It will cost you your job, it could cost your your family, and it could definitely cost you your livelihood. I have my first match in IWC coming up, and I need to stay focused and I need to stay sharp. I need to maintain my strength so that I can make my current and all future opponents look like bottom of the barrel.
"Last week, I tried to show everyone that I meant business. I tried to get the message across that I am not one to be messed with. That when I want something I will take it. I wanted everyone to listen, so I made it happen. Sure it was at the expense of some masked up freak talking to the shadows, but that's how it's going to be. If someone gets in my way, I will just steam roll them out of my way. And if they keep popping back up, then I will make sure they stay down.
"And with the Blackwells running around here, one always has to be ready for anything. One always has to be ready for the unexpected. I know that all of my mixed martial arts training will help me in some aspects, but in others I will have to rely on pure instinct. The primal nature that one has to do nothing but fight. That desire to watch their own fists pound through someone’s skull. Because that's what drives me. Nothing makes me smile more than a good, solid fight.
"Which is why this weeks match is just what the doctor ordered. Word around the roster is that Madok is all about competition. That he is all about a good, solid battle. So there is no where better to start than against a man who can understand my desire to fight. My desire to leave someone broken in the middle of the ring.
"I am no stranger to people who are loaded with money. I grew up with many of them, I hung around with many of them when I was doing the whole MMA thing. My best friend is C.J. Gates, another man that is loaded with money and doing the whole wrestling thing just for the thrill of the fight. Though, the difference between the two of you is that you are probably more accustomed to a militarized edge.
"But all of those weapons and military units won't help you this week. They won't help you any week, really. This is my first match in IWC, and I plan to make it one to remember. I plan to turn it into a match that everyone will remember as the night wears on. Even after the main event, they will still be remembering what I did to poor old Madok Mortalis. That the ego this man possesses got him into a wee bit of trouble with the Loose Cannon.
"Because the nickname is more than just a funny little quirk. It's my way of life. It's my code when I am inside of that ring. I don't let anyone walk all over me, and I'll be damned if I start with my first match. But I'm sure you can understand that, right Madok? Because as far as I can tell, this is your first match, too. This is your chance to sort of get your name out there after your failed attempt to succeed in APW. Even your friends in high places won't help you, but I expect that you want no help. I expect that my last statement probably irked your mind, right?
"Good. Because what else can I really use to get under your skin? I don't know you. I've never seen you fight. And I'm a bit too old for name calling, though I guess not everyone can follow that creed. All I can go on right now, is what the rumor mill has been spilling about you. And even though you might not care for what anyone has to say about you, because you're living on the edge, they are talking about you.
"Some people are saying good things. Some aren't. And after our little match at the Asylum show, they'll be wondering only one thing. One little thing that will be nipping at everyone’s brain stems, and casting a shadow of doubt on your boy Pence Weatherlight.
"Will Madok turn tail and run away again? Will he try and play cowboys and indians one more time before he rides off into the sunset again? Who knows. I'd like to think that you would stick around so that everyone could get some cheap and easy wins over you. So that we could all get a step ahead, while you are stuck trying to figure out where you are going. Sorting out what you will do.
"I guess I'll see you in the ring, Madok. Hopefully you hold up your end of the bargain and can focus enough to make this match worth my time. Because I will surely make it worth yours."
