H
Hex Angel
Guest
"That didn't take long."
The scene fades in on Eli Flair, in a nondescript locker room. He's wearing a TOOL T-shirt, and has three streaks down one side of his hair. Somewhere off in the distance, the faint sounds of the "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" theme can be heard.
The picture is grainy and somewhat static- filled, with just a bit of a problem with the vertical hold.
"I left Merritt less than ten minutes ago and he's already signed me a match for Gainesville. Well.... that's fine with me. I told him to put me wherever he wants if it'll earn me a World Title shot, and the more matches I can get under my belt and win.... the better."
"But I'm not sure what Lance Leizure has to do with the CSWA World Title. Sure, the kid's got talent. Sure, the kid's had some memorable matches so far.... but I'm drawin' a blank on this one."
"No offense, of course, kid.... it's nothing personal. And if you're the starting point for what will probably be my final run at the CSWA World Title.... so be it. But I hope you know exactly what you represent to me.... and can live with it."
"A bump in the road. An obstacle. Put simply, you stand inbetween me and that CSWA World Title. One way or another, you're gonna get out of my way."
"It's up to you how peacefully you do so."
Eli stops for a moment, running his hands through his hair.
"Now, don't take that the wrong way.... I'm just advising you to be smart. Give me everything you've got.... I thrive on the competition. Do your damnedest to beat me.... it'll make it all the more satisfying for me when I pin you to the mat if you gave me a real fight. But do yourself a favor and leave your problems with PLR on the outside of the ring."
A ruefull smile crosses his face.
"Y'see.... I've done that whole gang war thing already.... it's old. It's yesterday's news. And it would make me.... angry.... to have to deal with your bullsh*t while I'm trying to wrestle my match."
"So good luck, kid.... because you're gonna need it. Because while I'm not looking to treat you like Troy Windham and dismantle you, piece by piece by bloody piece.... you shouldn't get your hopes up for a friendly exhibition like you just saw with one of the greatest this sport has ever seen."
"Play your cards right, Lance.... don't bring your sh*t into the match with me, and if you're insistent on doing so.... don't blame me when I just sit back and let Powers show you how to Kiss the Canvas. Face first."
"Because damnitt, kid.... I warned ya."
Eli looks past the line of sight of the camera - presumably to a monitor of some kind. He gets a look on his face as if he wants to continue his promo, but is also anxious to get out of there.
"Follow my advice and I can guarantee you a few things, Lance.... because while there's nothing you can do about the fact that you're going to lose this match and go through the workout of your life while doing so.... you're only gonna bleed if you f**k up. You're only gonna get carted out if you let yourself. And if I feel like it.... you'll walk away from this match looking like a godd*mn star.
"Look on the bright side, Lance.... at least I remembered your name."
Eli walks out of the frame - rather quickly.
~FADE~
The scene fades in on Eli Flair, in a nondescript locker room. He's wearing a TOOL T-shirt, and has three streaks down one side of his hair. Somewhere off in the distance, the faint sounds of the "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" theme can be heard.
The picture is grainy and somewhat static- filled, with just a bit of a problem with the vertical hold.
"I left Merritt less than ten minutes ago and he's already signed me a match for Gainesville. Well.... that's fine with me. I told him to put me wherever he wants if it'll earn me a World Title shot, and the more matches I can get under my belt and win.... the better."
"But I'm not sure what Lance Leizure has to do with the CSWA World Title. Sure, the kid's got talent. Sure, the kid's had some memorable matches so far.... but I'm drawin' a blank on this one."
"No offense, of course, kid.... it's nothing personal. And if you're the starting point for what will probably be my final run at the CSWA World Title.... so be it. But I hope you know exactly what you represent to me.... and can live with it."
"A bump in the road. An obstacle. Put simply, you stand inbetween me and that CSWA World Title. One way or another, you're gonna get out of my way."
"It's up to you how peacefully you do so."
Eli stops for a moment, running his hands through his hair.
"Now, don't take that the wrong way.... I'm just advising you to be smart. Give me everything you've got.... I thrive on the competition. Do your damnedest to beat me.... it'll make it all the more satisfying for me when I pin you to the mat if you gave me a real fight. But do yourself a favor and leave your problems with PLR on the outside of the ring."
A ruefull smile crosses his face.
"Y'see.... I've done that whole gang war thing already.... it's old. It's yesterday's news. And it would make me.... angry.... to have to deal with your bullsh*t while I'm trying to wrestle my match."
"So good luck, kid.... because you're gonna need it. Because while I'm not looking to treat you like Troy Windham and dismantle you, piece by piece by bloody piece.... you shouldn't get your hopes up for a friendly exhibition like you just saw with one of the greatest this sport has ever seen."
"Play your cards right, Lance.... don't bring your sh*t into the match with me, and if you're insistent on doing so.... don't blame me when I just sit back and let Powers show you how to Kiss the Canvas. Face first."
"Because damnitt, kid.... I warned ya."
Eli looks past the line of sight of the camera - presumably to a monitor of some kind. He gets a look on his face as if he wants to continue his promo, but is also anxious to get out of there.
"Follow my advice and I can guarantee you a few things, Lance.... because while there's nothing you can do about the fact that you're going to lose this match and go through the workout of your life while doing so.... you're only gonna bleed if you f**k up. You're only gonna get carted out if you let yourself. And if I feel like it.... you'll walk away from this match looking like a godd*mn star.
"Look on the bright side, Lance.... at least I remembered your name."
Eli walks out of the frame - rather quickly.
~FADE~