Post by C.J. Gates on Aug 24, 2011 22:59:45 GMT -4
"Branden Harvey? Branden fucking Harvey? You've got to be kidding me!"
The loud, unmistakable voice of APW World Heavyweight champion Rico Casteel can be heard carrying down the hallway as the scene opens up and, after moving toward it, the Loose Cannon himself can be seen inside the office of Reginald Schmidt, wearing the title around his waist and pacing from one side of the room and then to the door while Reginald sits in his chair behind his desk, keeping his eyes on the champion.
Rico: It's some sort of fucking joke, isn't it, Reginald? Some sick twisted game you and Chris are playing. Right? Harvey is the fucking court jester of my kingdom. He holds no purpose other than to look like a fool time after time!
Reginald: I'm sorry, Rico, it's not a joke. Branden signed his name on a legal contract and is legally in this match. There's nothing I can do.
Rico stops pacing and walks toward the desk before pounding both fists on the desktop and leaning toward Reginald, causing the General Manager to back up slightly, his eyes wide in fear.
Rico: There's a lot that you can fucking do, but you're just to God damn spineless to do it! You could tell Branden to actually earn the fucking title shot instead of just stealing it from someone else. It's a mockery of the entire number one contender label, Reginald, and you know it.
Reginald: He signed the contract! If you and BDC weren't yakking then you could have signed the contract and been done with it.
Rico: Don't spin this back on me you prick, this isn't my fault. This one is all on you for nothing having the balls to strip Harvey of his pipe dream and send him back to the dark matches.
Rico shakes his head as he backs away from the desk, a snarl on his face.
Rico: The half pint hasn't even earned a shot at the World Heavyweight title, and you're just going to let him have it because...because what? Because you feel sorry for him? Because he is nothing but a sorry excuse for a wrestler, and you feel that he should at least get one moment in the sun? That's a load of shit, Reginald.
Reginald: My hands are tied, Rico. As I told you, Branden sig---
Rico: I don't care how legal that contract was, you're the General Manager. You can overrule that and put this match the way it should be. Make this match worth watching instead of filling it with some...some....some freaking side show!
Reginald: BDC doesn't have a problem with the match.
Rico: That's because he's back into the damn thing. Had you forced him to watch on the outside while I tore Harvey's head from his body, he'd be up in arms about the whole thing. The basic fact that you let him into the match is enough for him to throw away.
Reginald: Well, maybe you should take a page from his book and just accept that this match is made, okay?
Rico turns around and slowly and glares at Reginald, who swallows hard as a bead ofsweat begins to form on his forehead. After a few moments, a smile begins to creep across his face.
Rico: Or what?
Reginald's eyes glance around his office.
Reginald: Uh, um, or I'll....
Rico chuckles.
Rico: You know what, Reg? I'm willing to overlook the fact that I am fighting against two men who don't deserve a title shot, and I will go out there and destroy both of them. It will give me a good chance to show you what's in store for you if you try to fuck me over again.
Again, Reginald swallows, his eyes still wide in fear.
Rico: So, just keep this week in mind when you are lining up a true number one contender. I'm sure the fans of my Asylum would hate to see their General Manager incapacitated, right? Right.
Rico smiles as he turns away and walks to the door of the office, allowing Reginald to finally breath easy. Outside in the hallway, Rico is met by Colonel Frederick de LaFontaine the third who falls in line beside the World Heavyweight champion.
Colonel: So?
Rico: So what?
Colonel: What did he say?
Rico: Nothing we already didn't know he'd say. He basically refused to take that sorry excuse out of the match and told me to deal with it.
Colonel: Seems like, I say, seems like dear old Reggie there is getting some balls.
Rico: Either that or he's losing his sanity.
Colonel: Why do you say that?
The two continue to walk back toward Rico's locker room.
Rico: It just seems like he's doing his best to piss me off. And he, of all people, should realize how much of a mistake that is. It's almost like he's...goading me into hitting him. Into punishing him again.
Colonel: Perhaps. But if history is any indication, if you did attack him, he wouldn't do anything. BDC hit him with that Blackout and he still got reinstated into the title match.
Rico: I never thought of it that way. He's also kind of fucked himself over, because now, everyone in my kingdom will be trying to steal title shots the same way that Jester did.
Colonel: Good point, boy.
The two men arrive at the locker room and Rico opens the door and walks inside. The Colonel follows and stops as he enters the room.
Colonel: What the, I say, what the hell is this?
Seated across the room reading a magazine is The Rappin' Rabbi, his long hair pulled back into a ponytail. He strokes his beard as he stands up.
Rico: Meant as little offense to you, Colonel, I just felt I'd return to what helped me annihilate Chris Cyrus for the title at Test for the Best if I wanted to retain it against the two jokers I have to put up with. I need to stay on top of my game, on top of my Kingdom. You understand, don't you?
Rico turns to face the Colonel, smiling as he does.
Colonel: To be honest, not really.
Rico: I thought you did. After all, you handled the week to week business, the administrative side of things but when the matches really began to matter and when I need to be at my most vicious, well, that is where the Rabbi would take over.
Rabbi: Shalom.
Colonel: I thought we had an understanding.
Rico sighs.
Rico: At this point, I don't even know anymore, Colonel. You've helped, you've hurt, and right now, I am going to stick with what I know works. And since the Rabbi helped me last time, I'm sure he will help me again. Because if there is one thing I need, it's to make sure that I destroy both Branden Harvey and Chris Defoe inside of MY ring so I can retain MY title.
Colonel: So, what am I supposed to do?
Rabbi: Take the week off, man. Enjoy. I'll make sure this asshole keeps his title, and then you can go back to mentoring him until he truly needs more help.
Colonel: You do remember...
Rico: That last time I asked the Rabbi for advice, I defeated Chris Cyrus so that everyone would officially recognize me as the champion I had been for weeks before that? Yes. I remember that.
The Colonel pauses and looks from Rico to the Rabbi and back again before letting out a sigh.
Colonel: There's nothing I can do to change your mind, is there?
Rico: Unless you can guarantee me one hundred percent, with your life on the line, that I will walk out of St. Paul as the champion, then no.
Colonel: Do you, I say, do you think BDC and Harvey are going to be looking to others for help like you are?
Rico: No, I don't. Which is going to be their undoing, Frederick. Besides, I'm not looking for help. I'm looking fr advice. Come match time, I am going to be flying solo, carving a path through those two nobodies just like everyone before them.
The Colonel sighs again.
Colonel: Fine, I'll see you at Asylum then, son. Good luck out there.
The Colonel turns and exits the room, disappearing into the hall. Rico and the Rabbi shake hands as the scene fades out the black.
"For one night and one night only, you and I will actually see eye to eye on something Chris. I'm not stoked that Branden weaseled his way into this match, just like you. As far as I'm concerned, it's a travesty that he, the man who has done nothing but fall down, gets a shot at my title in my Asylum. That the court jester is actually getting an opportunity to win a piece of gold.
"I don't know how you managed to do it, Branden, and I don't really care, but you managed to sneak in and grab a spot in this match that you really didn't earn. What really stumps me is why you did it. Normally, a man noses his way into the business of others because he feels he has been cheated. He makes a statement like the one you made because you feel as though you should be given a shot you've earned. But answer me, what have you been cheated? What have you earned?
"The answer to both is nothing. You haven't even done one single thing to even make you an afterthought in the World Heavyweight title picture.
"But you're being granted this because you stole it. Because you didn't deserve it. But the more I think about it, the more I'm fine with it. You see Harvey, we haven't really had enough time to really meet inside of the ring and hash out our differences. But this week, all of that changes.
"And I wouldn't have it any other way.
"It's basically a chance to do what I wanted to do the moment I stepped into the Asylum. Sure, we were 'friends' at one point but you still spoke down to me each and every time we met. A feat in itself considering our differing statures. You probably don't see it, because you thought you were just being friendly, but it's there in plain black and white. You treated me like a school yard outcast. But that's not it.
"I also get a chance to punish you for wasting everyone's time. After all, you haven't done anything of note. You won the Xtreme title? Well, I do remember you losing it a few months later. Not like me, having held the two top titles in the Asylum and throwing away challengers left, right and center.
"But you don't want to use that as the benchmark? Fine. Let's look elsewhere. How about your sorry excuse for a leave of absence that ended with you coming back to join forces with a few hasbeens. How about this idea that you were mentally unstable, that was suddenly dropped from the face of the earth? If you really want we can compare the mentally unstable portions of our minds but I'm sure that I would have you fucking trumped in that department.
"Truth is, Branden, you're a fuck up. Sure, you're new and you're still trying to find yourself, but you've made no strides forward, and instead just took four steps back. You talk a small talk and you wrestle even smaller. You think the fans care for you, but they don't give a shit what you're capable of. You were repackaged by a man who's interest in this business waned more than it burned and you thought you were tough shit because you won a title that no one cared about.
"How on earth does that warrant a fucking World Heavyweight title shot?
"It doesn't. Yet here you are. And really, Branden, after I make sure that you are unrecognizable after this match, you will only have yourself to blame. You will only be able to hang your head and realize you could have avoided it if you just took the time to realize that you are so far out of your element it's sad.
"Click your heels together and go back to where you belong, Dorothy.
"Now we are onto the meat of the match. The real reason this match was made in the first place before Branden fucked it up. Don't get me wrong though, Chris, that doesn't mean you deserve to be in this match, you were just stupid enough to try and pick a fight with me. And you were just lucky enough to be the one man that Reginald put his faith in to stop me.
"Sure, maybe you stand the best chance of anyone, old man, but I wouldn't put my money on it. I wouldn't think that you are Reginald's hope in getting this title off of me. I mean, it's no secret that he loathes the fact that I stand at the top of the mountain, and he probably hates it even more that I am the King of the Asylum.
"But truly, it's not about Reginald this week, unless he suits up and comes out to fight me. Truly, it's about you and me and what kind of mayhem we can create inside of that ring. It's about which one of us can walk out of this Pay-Per-View holding the title. Unfortunately for you, Chris, all signs are pointing to me not only retaining this title, but making it look fucking easy. After all, you and Harvey are no match for me inside of that ring. The two of you have nothing going for you.
"You're over the hill, Chris, and as much as you hear that, it never makes it any less true. You've had your chances and are now hoping to stumble into something in the twilight of your career. Problem is, you don't realize how fucked you are. You don't see that the reality of the situation is that yours truly will be walking out of St. Paul with the title STILL around my waist.
"Because this is my Asylum, my Kingdom, and I'm not about to let someone like you take that away from me. Sure, you can try, but it will only end in defeat for you. You will only end up screwing yourself over in the end when you're flat on your ass hearing the referee slap the mat for the three count. Sure you'll deny it, they all do until it becomes a God damn reality. They all refuse to see how truly fucked they are. Hell, you've seen it first hand these past few weeks. You've seen the ferocity that burns within me.
"And it will definitely be burning Sunday night. Because I am the fucking King, Chris.
"And you are merely a peasant."
The loud, unmistakable voice of APW World Heavyweight champion Rico Casteel can be heard carrying down the hallway as the scene opens up and, after moving toward it, the Loose Cannon himself can be seen inside the office of Reginald Schmidt, wearing the title around his waist and pacing from one side of the room and then to the door while Reginald sits in his chair behind his desk, keeping his eyes on the champion.
Rico: It's some sort of fucking joke, isn't it, Reginald? Some sick twisted game you and Chris are playing. Right? Harvey is the fucking court jester of my kingdom. He holds no purpose other than to look like a fool time after time!
Reginald: I'm sorry, Rico, it's not a joke. Branden signed his name on a legal contract and is legally in this match. There's nothing I can do.
Rico stops pacing and walks toward the desk before pounding both fists on the desktop and leaning toward Reginald, causing the General Manager to back up slightly, his eyes wide in fear.
Rico: There's a lot that you can fucking do, but you're just to God damn spineless to do it! You could tell Branden to actually earn the fucking title shot instead of just stealing it from someone else. It's a mockery of the entire number one contender label, Reginald, and you know it.
Reginald: He signed the contract! If you and BDC weren't yakking then you could have signed the contract and been done with it.
Rico: Don't spin this back on me you prick, this isn't my fault. This one is all on you for nothing having the balls to strip Harvey of his pipe dream and send him back to the dark matches.
Rico shakes his head as he backs away from the desk, a snarl on his face.
Rico: The half pint hasn't even earned a shot at the World Heavyweight title, and you're just going to let him have it because...because what? Because you feel sorry for him? Because he is nothing but a sorry excuse for a wrestler, and you feel that he should at least get one moment in the sun? That's a load of shit, Reginald.
Reginald: My hands are tied, Rico. As I told you, Branden sig---
Rico: I don't care how legal that contract was, you're the General Manager. You can overrule that and put this match the way it should be. Make this match worth watching instead of filling it with some...some....some freaking side show!
Reginald: BDC doesn't have a problem with the match.
Rico: That's because he's back into the damn thing. Had you forced him to watch on the outside while I tore Harvey's head from his body, he'd be up in arms about the whole thing. The basic fact that you let him into the match is enough for him to throw away.
Reginald: Well, maybe you should take a page from his book and just accept that this match is made, okay?
Rico turns around and slowly and glares at Reginald, who swallows hard as a bead ofsweat begins to form on his forehead. After a few moments, a smile begins to creep across his face.
Rico: Or what?
Reginald's eyes glance around his office.
Reginald: Uh, um, or I'll....
Rico chuckles.
Rico: You know what, Reg? I'm willing to overlook the fact that I am fighting against two men who don't deserve a title shot, and I will go out there and destroy both of them. It will give me a good chance to show you what's in store for you if you try to fuck me over again.
Again, Reginald swallows, his eyes still wide in fear.
Rico: So, just keep this week in mind when you are lining up a true number one contender. I'm sure the fans of my Asylum would hate to see their General Manager incapacitated, right? Right.
Rico smiles as he turns away and walks to the door of the office, allowing Reginald to finally breath easy. Outside in the hallway, Rico is met by Colonel Frederick de LaFontaine the third who falls in line beside the World Heavyweight champion.
Colonel: So?
Rico: So what?
Colonel: What did he say?
Rico: Nothing we already didn't know he'd say. He basically refused to take that sorry excuse out of the match and told me to deal with it.
Colonel: Seems like, I say, seems like dear old Reggie there is getting some balls.
Rico: Either that or he's losing his sanity.
Colonel: Why do you say that?
The two continue to walk back toward Rico's locker room.
Rico: It just seems like he's doing his best to piss me off. And he, of all people, should realize how much of a mistake that is. It's almost like he's...goading me into hitting him. Into punishing him again.
Colonel: Perhaps. But if history is any indication, if you did attack him, he wouldn't do anything. BDC hit him with that Blackout and he still got reinstated into the title match.
Rico: I never thought of it that way. He's also kind of fucked himself over, because now, everyone in my kingdom will be trying to steal title shots the same way that Jester did.
Colonel: Good point, boy.
The two men arrive at the locker room and Rico opens the door and walks inside. The Colonel follows and stops as he enters the room.
Colonel: What the, I say, what the hell is this?
Seated across the room reading a magazine is The Rappin' Rabbi, his long hair pulled back into a ponytail. He strokes his beard as he stands up.
Rico: Meant as little offense to you, Colonel, I just felt I'd return to what helped me annihilate Chris Cyrus for the title at Test for the Best if I wanted to retain it against the two jokers I have to put up with. I need to stay on top of my game, on top of my Kingdom. You understand, don't you?
Rico turns to face the Colonel, smiling as he does.
Colonel: To be honest, not really.
Rico: I thought you did. After all, you handled the week to week business, the administrative side of things but when the matches really began to matter and when I need to be at my most vicious, well, that is where the Rabbi would take over.
Rabbi: Shalom.
Colonel: I thought we had an understanding.
Rico sighs.
Rico: At this point, I don't even know anymore, Colonel. You've helped, you've hurt, and right now, I am going to stick with what I know works. And since the Rabbi helped me last time, I'm sure he will help me again. Because if there is one thing I need, it's to make sure that I destroy both Branden Harvey and Chris Defoe inside of MY ring so I can retain MY title.
Colonel: So, what am I supposed to do?
Rabbi: Take the week off, man. Enjoy. I'll make sure this asshole keeps his title, and then you can go back to mentoring him until he truly needs more help.
Colonel: You do remember...
Rico: That last time I asked the Rabbi for advice, I defeated Chris Cyrus so that everyone would officially recognize me as the champion I had been for weeks before that? Yes. I remember that.
The Colonel pauses and looks from Rico to the Rabbi and back again before letting out a sigh.
Colonel: There's nothing I can do to change your mind, is there?
Rico: Unless you can guarantee me one hundred percent, with your life on the line, that I will walk out of St. Paul as the champion, then no.
Colonel: Do you, I say, do you think BDC and Harvey are going to be looking to others for help like you are?
Rico: No, I don't. Which is going to be their undoing, Frederick. Besides, I'm not looking for help. I'm looking fr advice. Come match time, I am going to be flying solo, carving a path through those two nobodies just like everyone before them.
The Colonel sighs again.
Colonel: Fine, I'll see you at Asylum then, son. Good luck out there.
The Colonel turns and exits the room, disappearing into the hall. Rico and the Rabbi shake hands as the scene fades out the black.
"For one night and one night only, you and I will actually see eye to eye on something Chris. I'm not stoked that Branden weaseled his way into this match, just like you. As far as I'm concerned, it's a travesty that he, the man who has done nothing but fall down, gets a shot at my title in my Asylum. That the court jester is actually getting an opportunity to win a piece of gold.
"I don't know how you managed to do it, Branden, and I don't really care, but you managed to sneak in and grab a spot in this match that you really didn't earn. What really stumps me is why you did it. Normally, a man noses his way into the business of others because he feels he has been cheated. He makes a statement like the one you made because you feel as though you should be given a shot you've earned. But answer me, what have you been cheated? What have you earned?
"The answer to both is nothing. You haven't even done one single thing to even make you an afterthought in the World Heavyweight title picture.
"But you're being granted this because you stole it. Because you didn't deserve it. But the more I think about it, the more I'm fine with it. You see Harvey, we haven't really had enough time to really meet inside of the ring and hash out our differences. But this week, all of that changes.
"And I wouldn't have it any other way.
"It's basically a chance to do what I wanted to do the moment I stepped into the Asylum. Sure, we were 'friends' at one point but you still spoke down to me each and every time we met. A feat in itself considering our differing statures. You probably don't see it, because you thought you were just being friendly, but it's there in plain black and white. You treated me like a school yard outcast. But that's not it.
"I also get a chance to punish you for wasting everyone's time. After all, you haven't done anything of note. You won the Xtreme title? Well, I do remember you losing it a few months later. Not like me, having held the two top titles in the Asylum and throwing away challengers left, right and center.
"But you don't want to use that as the benchmark? Fine. Let's look elsewhere. How about your sorry excuse for a leave of absence that ended with you coming back to join forces with a few hasbeens. How about this idea that you were mentally unstable, that was suddenly dropped from the face of the earth? If you really want we can compare the mentally unstable portions of our minds but I'm sure that I would have you fucking trumped in that department.
"Truth is, Branden, you're a fuck up. Sure, you're new and you're still trying to find yourself, but you've made no strides forward, and instead just took four steps back. You talk a small talk and you wrestle even smaller. You think the fans care for you, but they don't give a shit what you're capable of. You were repackaged by a man who's interest in this business waned more than it burned and you thought you were tough shit because you won a title that no one cared about.
"How on earth does that warrant a fucking World Heavyweight title shot?
"It doesn't. Yet here you are. And really, Branden, after I make sure that you are unrecognizable after this match, you will only have yourself to blame. You will only be able to hang your head and realize you could have avoided it if you just took the time to realize that you are so far out of your element it's sad.
"Click your heels together and go back to where you belong, Dorothy.
"Now we are onto the meat of the match. The real reason this match was made in the first place before Branden fucked it up. Don't get me wrong though, Chris, that doesn't mean you deserve to be in this match, you were just stupid enough to try and pick a fight with me. And you were just lucky enough to be the one man that Reginald put his faith in to stop me.
"Sure, maybe you stand the best chance of anyone, old man, but I wouldn't put my money on it. I wouldn't think that you are Reginald's hope in getting this title off of me. I mean, it's no secret that he loathes the fact that I stand at the top of the mountain, and he probably hates it even more that I am the King of the Asylum.
"But truly, it's not about Reginald this week, unless he suits up and comes out to fight me. Truly, it's about you and me and what kind of mayhem we can create inside of that ring. It's about which one of us can walk out of this Pay-Per-View holding the title. Unfortunately for you, Chris, all signs are pointing to me not only retaining this title, but making it look fucking easy. After all, you and Harvey are no match for me inside of that ring. The two of you have nothing going for you.
"You're over the hill, Chris, and as much as you hear that, it never makes it any less true. You've had your chances and are now hoping to stumble into something in the twilight of your career. Problem is, you don't realize how fucked you are. You don't see that the reality of the situation is that yours truly will be walking out of St. Paul with the title STILL around my waist.
"Because this is my Asylum, my Kingdom, and I'm not about to let someone like you take that away from me. Sure, you can try, but it will only end in defeat for you. You will only end up screwing yourself over in the end when you're flat on your ass hearing the referee slap the mat for the three count. Sure you'll deny it, they all do until it becomes a God damn reality. They all refuse to see how truly fucked they are. Hell, you've seen it first hand these past few weeks. You've seen the ferocity that burns within me.
"And it will definitely be burning Sunday night. Because I am the fucking King, Chris.
"And you are merely a peasant."
