Post by C.J. Gates on Aug 26, 2011 23:20:57 GMT -4
The scene opens up inside of a dimly lit room with a large throne positioned in the center of it. The back of the throne reaches high as the dark red of the cushion stands out against the form of the figure sitting in that throne, the current APW World Heavyweight champion Rico Casteel. He is wearing blue jeans, a black shirts that reads "WELCOME TO THE MADNESS" and the APW title around his waist. He is sitting up straight, he hands gripping the ends of the arms of the chair, and a smile plays across his face as he stares forward, his eyes unblinking.
"Rumor has it that Chris Defoe doesn't have his mind on the match. They say that he's got other obligations floating around that have taken away his attention. They say that there it is highly likely that he won't be heard from until Shockwave goes live."
The smile grows wider but Rico simply continues to stare forward.
"Rumor has it that the same Chris Defoe is finally realizing just what he was in for at Shockwave and opted to do the best thing for himself. Decided to do what needed to be done to preserve himself for the future rather than step into a ring and be destroyed by the King of the Asylum."
Rico chuckles slightly, the smile wider than before.
"But if you ask me, the real reason BDC has opted to focus himself elsewhere is because he is afraid. Just like James Chambers before him, he realized just what I was capable of doing. He figured out that I wasn't going to stop at a simple pinfall this week. Chris was smart enough to realize that he had to get out because he was scared of what the Loose Cannon was going to unleash on him. And even if he does make it out to the back because he is contractually obligated to do so, he won't be focused. His head and his heart won't be in this match.
"Because the entire time he hovers around ringside, avoiding any sort of action, he'll be thinking about the pain I would inflict on him if I got my hands on him. And, of course, he would be constantly reminding himself that he is terrified of the King."
He shifts in the throne, adjusting his position.
"But I can't say I blame him. If I was facing someone like myself inside of the ring, I'd probably be afraid too. Though we all know that isn't the case. We all know that I am merely facing a man who may or may not show up, and a never will be who has too many dreams, not enough hope, and a whole lot of punishment coming his way.
"And right now, I find myself in a similar position that I did after Mayhem. I find myself standing on top of my Kingdom looking out at all my peasants, and see no one that can challenge me for my throne. I see no one that can pose a threat to all that I rule over. After James Chambers ran away, I realized that no one could defeat me for my title and now that Chris Defoe has turned tail, well, the same thoughts pass through my mind. After all, the best that piece of shit Reginald could do to try and salvage his own hide was to feed me Branden Harvey on a silver platter."
Rico shakes his head.
"Pathetic."
A man slowly walks in from the right of the screen, glancing up at Rico warily.
"Uh, excuse me? Mr. Casteel?"
Rico slowly turns his head toward the man, his eyes still showing very little emotion, aside from anger.
"What do you want?"
"We were wondering if you might be able to head out toward the front of the arena for a special appearance."
"You were, were you? Do you even know who I am?"
"Rico Casteel."
"The Loose Cannon. The King. The APW World Heavyweight champion. And you want me to participate in some appearance? With the commoners?"
The man nods his head slightly, before swallowing hard.
"Can't you see that I am busy?"
"B-B-Busy?"
The man grimaces and shakes his head, wanting to take back his words.
"Busy ruling. While sitting on this throne, it allows me to let everyone know just who's show this is. It allows me to show them that there is no room for the likes of Kash, Havok or Talfourd at the top. It shows them that this is my kingdom, my fucking Asylum."
"But...But..."
"But what? Spit it out or you'll be the example I use to prove Branden Harvey's mortality."
"There's nothing to rule over."
Rico stares the man down, and the man shakes his head slowly, knowing he made another mistake.
"Nothing to rule over? Are you blind! I am the APW World Heavyweight champion, THEE champion of the Asylum. But you know, people like you seem to be a dime a dozen. The people who believe that everyone is on the same level, that they actually have a chance to look me in the eyes. Get the fuck out of my sight!"
The man turns quickly and exits the screen. Shortly after The Rappin' Rabbi walks into the shot, pointing his thumb behind him.
"What did you do to make that guy bawl his eyes out like that?"
"Nothing. He did it to himself by being fucking ignorant."
"Ah, gotcha. You ready to go train?"
"In a moment. I'm preparing my attack, readying myself for battle, planning everything that I am going to do to teach that high flying prick a lesson."
"It's a big match for you, huh?"
"Every match is a big match, Rabbi. Every match is one that I need to be prepared for. And in this case, I need to be extra prepared so that I can take a life."
"Well, to be really prepared you've got to be in shape. And you don't really need to work yourself up to take a life. I've seen what you can do when provoked, and that was without planning to kill that guy."
A slight smirk returns to Rico's face.
"Very good point, Rabbi. But even still, this one has a little something extra behind it. It's almost a career killer to lose to Branden Harvey, and I am not about to fall into that path. There is too much left for me to do."
"What about that other guy? Chris BC?"
Rico laughs.
"That man is nothing anymore. I haven't heard it from the horses mouth, but apparently, the word is that he's planning on leaving, just like James Chambers did before him. So, in short, fuck him. If he shows up, I'll make short work of him. For now, I want to focus on destroying Harvey."
"Alright, alright. Just hurry up this little meditation session. We've got a gym to hit."
The Rappin' Rabbi shakes his head as he turns around and exits, leaving Rico Casteel sitting in the throne, the APW World title shining around his waist as the scene fades to black.
"Branden, you fall into the same category as every other simpleton that has filed in and out of my Asylum. Each one of you thinks that I am nothing more than a fucking ape. Nothing more than some walking stereotype for the uneducated caveman. But everyone knows how fucking wrong that is. Everyone knows that I am as educated as most, maybe even more so. Everyone knows that I am not some fucking simple minded drone.
"But no one ever admits it. Everyone is just fascinated by the fact that they get an opportunity to call me an ape. They are ecstatic at the potential to call me a caveman. To tell the world that I communicate through grunts and hand gestures. Well, let me ask you this Branden, if this is all true, which isn't not, what does that say for yourself? From what I gathered, you understood me quite well. If I simply grunted and punched, then you must be just an inept as you claim me to be right? I mean, there's no other answer to it, if you ask me.
"Unless of course, we go with the truth, with the truth being that you are simply a fucking tool, Branden. You are just a fucking waste of a roster space on my Asylum, and I can't wait until I eliminate you from the equation altogether. Sure, you think that you are the big shit and you think that you are going to prove to be sadistic and brutal, but really Branden, you won't. If anything, saying it out loud must allow you to sleep easier at night. After all, you aren't exactly facing off against Chris Cyrus or Ebirah here.
"You're facing off against the Loose Cannon. You're facing off against one of the most insane and relentless men to walk into this federation. Sure, you'll deny it because, well, that's what you do. But you also know the truth. You know that you are fighting a losing battle already. You know that you have no hope in this match and yet you will entertain us all. You will provide me with a punching bag, you will allow the fans to laugh as my fists are driven through your face. You will stand, if you can, at the end of the match and you will look out to the fans as they still laugh at you. As they still mock you. As they still make you feel like a giant pile of shit.
"Contrary to what you might believe, you are still the court jester. You are still playing the role of the God damn fool.
"You think you've grown out of it. You think that this doctor has cured you of your dementia to the point where you can still function, but really, Branden, he didn't do anything that you couldn't do yourself. In fact, all he did do was watch as you were bought like the cheap piece of meat that you are. Sure, Blade might care about you, but I don't think Gambler and Bodacious do. I don't think they really want to see you succeed. To them, you are probably a meat shield. To them, you are just fodder for their opponents to punch at while they escape through the crowd. Sure, they helped you work over Chris in the last Asylum, but in my eyes, they were simply protecting their investment.
"Protecting their failed investment. After all, Branden, no matter how you spin this story, it's all going to come back to the same thing. It's always going to come back to you having little to no chance at actually winning this match. It's going to come back to me kicking the ever living shit right out of you. Sure, this might not be your typical hardcore blood brawl, but it is still going to be filled with pain for you. It's still going to see the canvas stained red with your blood.
"And I am going to love every minute of it.
"Like I said before, you are out of your element. I mean, I take the time to ask you a question about why you deserve to be in this match and you fire back the pathetic Rising Star award? Really, Branden? Are you trying to verbally throw in the towel? No one cares about that award, including you. After all, the rise ended right after you were given that trophy, right? Ever since then you went no where but down losing match after match after match. Watching as your career disappeared in the darkest depths. Watched as everyone else surpassed you for title shots because they actually gave a shit and tried to earn something in their life.
"Not like you, who felt like you were owed a title shot. Not like you who felt like you should take a shot you didn't even deserve. Do you see what I'm getting at here, Branden? Do you understand what I am trying to tell you? Well here, let me put it in a way you can understand.
"You don't deserve this World Heavyweight title match that you have.
"You did nothing to deserve this World Heavyweight title match.
"You will never do anything to deserve World Heavyweight title match.
"I do not speak for C.J., and he doesn't speak for me, but you can believe that I did not consider us to be truly friends. You bring up the fact that I didn't care about your illness like it mattered, when it truly doesn't and never did. As far as the friend factor goes, I considered us to be associates who were in the same boat. I was the muscle and you were the underling pulled along to carry their bags. The manservant. The fool. However you want to spin it, that's what you are. But the problem with everything was that I felt like I was still above you. I knew that I was still above you, and yet you treated me like crap. It's humourous I admit that. Hilarious. So I decided to cut ties from you and wait until the moment when I could treat you the way I wanted to treat you. Waiting until I could exterminate you from my fucking Kingdom.
"And now the moment has come.
"The moment has come for the King of the Asylum to destroy the last living fool. The time has come for this warrior to decapitate the court jester before he loses his brain. This isn't some simple game of chess, Branden. We aren't Bobby Fischer or Garry Kasparov sitting behind a table moving pieces. We are fighting on an actual battlefield, on my battlefield, for my title. And the longer you continue to think of this match as a game, and the longer you continue to consider yourself to be some sort of threat to taking my title, well, let's just say that in the end it's not going to come out so well for you, because you're going to end up as a stain. As an asterisk in the record books beside my easiest title defence ever.
"So I guess in the end you'll make history, right? Which really, with your constant shouts for attention, that's all you've ever wanted. You just want to be noticed. And after hoping that the Elite Posse could raise you to that level and realizing how much of a failure that plan was...well, this is your plan B, and eventually you are going to be sipping solids through a straw you fucking failure.
"Kiss your wife goodbye, give one last wave to your children, because you will never be seeing them again.
"And that's not some idle threat uttered in the heat of battle. No, it's the fucking truth.
"Welcome to my Kingdom of Madness."
"Rumor has it that Chris Defoe doesn't have his mind on the match. They say that he's got other obligations floating around that have taken away his attention. They say that there it is highly likely that he won't be heard from until Shockwave goes live."
The smile grows wider but Rico simply continues to stare forward.
"Rumor has it that the same Chris Defoe is finally realizing just what he was in for at Shockwave and opted to do the best thing for himself. Decided to do what needed to be done to preserve himself for the future rather than step into a ring and be destroyed by the King of the Asylum."
Rico chuckles slightly, the smile wider than before.
"But if you ask me, the real reason BDC has opted to focus himself elsewhere is because he is afraid. Just like James Chambers before him, he realized just what I was capable of doing. He figured out that I wasn't going to stop at a simple pinfall this week. Chris was smart enough to realize that he had to get out because he was scared of what the Loose Cannon was going to unleash on him. And even if he does make it out to the back because he is contractually obligated to do so, he won't be focused. His head and his heart won't be in this match.
"Because the entire time he hovers around ringside, avoiding any sort of action, he'll be thinking about the pain I would inflict on him if I got my hands on him. And, of course, he would be constantly reminding himself that he is terrified of the King."
He shifts in the throne, adjusting his position.
"But I can't say I blame him. If I was facing someone like myself inside of the ring, I'd probably be afraid too. Though we all know that isn't the case. We all know that I am merely facing a man who may or may not show up, and a never will be who has too many dreams, not enough hope, and a whole lot of punishment coming his way.
"And right now, I find myself in a similar position that I did after Mayhem. I find myself standing on top of my Kingdom looking out at all my peasants, and see no one that can challenge me for my throne. I see no one that can pose a threat to all that I rule over. After James Chambers ran away, I realized that no one could defeat me for my title and now that Chris Defoe has turned tail, well, the same thoughts pass through my mind. After all, the best that piece of shit Reginald could do to try and salvage his own hide was to feed me Branden Harvey on a silver platter."
Rico shakes his head.
"Pathetic."
A man slowly walks in from the right of the screen, glancing up at Rico warily.
"Uh, excuse me? Mr. Casteel?"
Rico slowly turns his head toward the man, his eyes still showing very little emotion, aside from anger.
"What do you want?"
"We were wondering if you might be able to head out toward the front of the arena for a special appearance."
"You were, were you? Do you even know who I am?"
"Rico Casteel."
"The Loose Cannon. The King. The APW World Heavyweight champion. And you want me to participate in some appearance? With the commoners?"
The man nods his head slightly, before swallowing hard.
"Can't you see that I am busy?"
"B-B-Busy?"
The man grimaces and shakes his head, wanting to take back his words.
"Busy ruling. While sitting on this throne, it allows me to let everyone know just who's show this is. It allows me to show them that there is no room for the likes of Kash, Havok or Talfourd at the top. It shows them that this is my kingdom, my fucking Asylum."
"But...But..."
"But what? Spit it out or you'll be the example I use to prove Branden Harvey's mortality."
"There's nothing to rule over."
Rico stares the man down, and the man shakes his head slowly, knowing he made another mistake.
"Nothing to rule over? Are you blind! I am the APW World Heavyweight champion, THEE champion of the Asylum. But you know, people like you seem to be a dime a dozen. The people who believe that everyone is on the same level, that they actually have a chance to look me in the eyes. Get the fuck out of my sight!"
The man turns quickly and exits the screen. Shortly after The Rappin' Rabbi walks into the shot, pointing his thumb behind him.
"What did you do to make that guy bawl his eyes out like that?"
"Nothing. He did it to himself by being fucking ignorant."
"Ah, gotcha. You ready to go train?"
"In a moment. I'm preparing my attack, readying myself for battle, planning everything that I am going to do to teach that high flying prick a lesson."
"It's a big match for you, huh?"
"Every match is a big match, Rabbi. Every match is one that I need to be prepared for. And in this case, I need to be extra prepared so that I can take a life."
"Well, to be really prepared you've got to be in shape. And you don't really need to work yourself up to take a life. I've seen what you can do when provoked, and that was without planning to kill that guy."
A slight smirk returns to Rico's face.
"Very good point, Rabbi. But even still, this one has a little something extra behind it. It's almost a career killer to lose to Branden Harvey, and I am not about to fall into that path. There is too much left for me to do."
"What about that other guy? Chris BC?"
Rico laughs.
"That man is nothing anymore. I haven't heard it from the horses mouth, but apparently, the word is that he's planning on leaving, just like James Chambers did before him. So, in short, fuck him. If he shows up, I'll make short work of him. For now, I want to focus on destroying Harvey."
"Alright, alright. Just hurry up this little meditation session. We've got a gym to hit."
The Rappin' Rabbi shakes his head as he turns around and exits, leaving Rico Casteel sitting in the throne, the APW World title shining around his waist as the scene fades to black.
"Branden, you fall into the same category as every other simpleton that has filed in and out of my Asylum. Each one of you thinks that I am nothing more than a fucking ape. Nothing more than some walking stereotype for the uneducated caveman. But everyone knows how fucking wrong that is. Everyone knows that I am as educated as most, maybe even more so. Everyone knows that I am not some fucking simple minded drone.
"But no one ever admits it. Everyone is just fascinated by the fact that they get an opportunity to call me an ape. They are ecstatic at the potential to call me a caveman. To tell the world that I communicate through grunts and hand gestures. Well, let me ask you this Branden, if this is all true, which isn't not, what does that say for yourself? From what I gathered, you understood me quite well. If I simply grunted and punched, then you must be just an inept as you claim me to be right? I mean, there's no other answer to it, if you ask me.
"Unless of course, we go with the truth, with the truth being that you are simply a fucking tool, Branden. You are just a fucking waste of a roster space on my Asylum, and I can't wait until I eliminate you from the equation altogether. Sure, you think that you are the big shit and you think that you are going to prove to be sadistic and brutal, but really Branden, you won't. If anything, saying it out loud must allow you to sleep easier at night. After all, you aren't exactly facing off against Chris Cyrus or Ebirah here.
"You're facing off against the Loose Cannon. You're facing off against one of the most insane and relentless men to walk into this federation. Sure, you'll deny it because, well, that's what you do. But you also know the truth. You know that you are fighting a losing battle already. You know that you have no hope in this match and yet you will entertain us all. You will provide me with a punching bag, you will allow the fans to laugh as my fists are driven through your face. You will stand, if you can, at the end of the match and you will look out to the fans as they still laugh at you. As they still mock you. As they still make you feel like a giant pile of shit.
"Contrary to what you might believe, you are still the court jester. You are still playing the role of the God damn fool.
"You think you've grown out of it. You think that this doctor has cured you of your dementia to the point where you can still function, but really, Branden, he didn't do anything that you couldn't do yourself. In fact, all he did do was watch as you were bought like the cheap piece of meat that you are. Sure, Blade might care about you, but I don't think Gambler and Bodacious do. I don't think they really want to see you succeed. To them, you are probably a meat shield. To them, you are just fodder for their opponents to punch at while they escape through the crowd. Sure, they helped you work over Chris in the last Asylum, but in my eyes, they were simply protecting their investment.
"Protecting their failed investment. After all, Branden, no matter how you spin this story, it's all going to come back to the same thing. It's always going to come back to you having little to no chance at actually winning this match. It's going to come back to me kicking the ever living shit right out of you. Sure, this might not be your typical hardcore blood brawl, but it is still going to be filled with pain for you. It's still going to see the canvas stained red with your blood.
"And I am going to love every minute of it.
"Like I said before, you are out of your element. I mean, I take the time to ask you a question about why you deserve to be in this match and you fire back the pathetic Rising Star award? Really, Branden? Are you trying to verbally throw in the towel? No one cares about that award, including you. After all, the rise ended right after you were given that trophy, right? Ever since then you went no where but down losing match after match after match. Watching as your career disappeared in the darkest depths. Watched as everyone else surpassed you for title shots because they actually gave a shit and tried to earn something in their life.
"Not like you, who felt like you were owed a title shot. Not like you who felt like you should take a shot you didn't even deserve. Do you see what I'm getting at here, Branden? Do you understand what I am trying to tell you? Well here, let me put it in a way you can understand.
"You don't deserve this World Heavyweight title match that you have.
"You did nothing to deserve this World Heavyweight title match.
"You will never do anything to deserve World Heavyweight title match.
"I do not speak for C.J., and he doesn't speak for me, but you can believe that I did not consider us to be truly friends. You bring up the fact that I didn't care about your illness like it mattered, when it truly doesn't and never did. As far as the friend factor goes, I considered us to be associates who were in the same boat. I was the muscle and you were the underling pulled along to carry their bags. The manservant. The fool. However you want to spin it, that's what you are. But the problem with everything was that I felt like I was still above you. I knew that I was still above you, and yet you treated me like crap. It's humourous I admit that. Hilarious. So I decided to cut ties from you and wait until the moment when I could treat you the way I wanted to treat you. Waiting until I could exterminate you from my fucking Kingdom.
"And now the moment has come.
"The moment has come for the King of the Asylum to destroy the last living fool. The time has come for this warrior to decapitate the court jester before he loses his brain. This isn't some simple game of chess, Branden. We aren't Bobby Fischer or Garry Kasparov sitting behind a table moving pieces. We are fighting on an actual battlefield, on my battlefield, for my title. And the longer you continue to think of this match as a game, and the longer you continue to consider yourself to be some sort of threat to taking my title, well, let's just say that in the end it's not going to come out so well for you, because you're going to end up as a stain. As an asterisk in the record books beside my easiest title defence ever.
"So I guess in the end you'll make history, right? Which really, with your constant shouts for attention, that's all you've ever wanted. You just want to be noticed. And after hoping that the Elite Posse could raise you to that level and realizing how much of a failure that plan was...well, this is your plan B, and eventually you are going to be sipping solids through a straw you fucking failure.
"Kiss your wife goodbye, give one last wave to your children, because you will never be seeing them again.
"And that's not some idle threat uttered in the heat of battle. No, it's the fucking truth.
"Welcome to my Kingdom of Madness."
