AGGRESSION 51: Layne Winters' TV Title Gauntlet (Karl Brown, Omega, Erik Black)
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EpyonMarx
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[FADE IN. Sitting with his back to a white-washed wall, “The Dragon” is taking a break from his workout. He’s got his eyes closed, his brow glistening. He’s wearing a cream coloured T-shirt and black tracksuit trousers, and although clearly out of breath he looks in good spirits]
Karl: Just like riding a bicycle, you never forget it. Sometimes, though, you do try and ride a penny farthing when you’re used to a modern bike and the difference takes you by surprise. But all in all, I’m happy with what happened in Vegas. I didn’t feel like I was at the same level I was before, but these things take time. And I was damn, damn close to being at my best, so my match with Fusenhoff did it’s job.
And as for my thoughts on him? Fusenshoff - has a great future, and it is only a matter of time before he’s looking down at the rest of us from the top of the Empire Pro mountain. If any of you are in Vegas, I’d put money on it happening this side of Christmas, but that’s just me.
But, moving on, and away from the Strip, we move on to Aggression Fifty One, where I find myself getting ready for a type of match I’ve never faced before. A gauntlet match, for the TV title. I don’t really know much about Omega or Erik besides remembering that it was almost impossible to breath near the Crimson Chronic Calling Collision locker-room some nights, but I’m sure before the lights turn on and the first name gets called to head to the ring I’ll have been introduced to them.
Layne Winters, on the other hand, I do have some first-hand knowledge of. If only because he sees me as a potential threat and wants to make a name for himself at my expense in pretty much the same way a few people before have done. Hey, I must still be pretty popular and grudgingly regarded.
Layne, I’ll be straight with you. You’re one of the kinds of people I’ve come across time and again who could be the best at what they want to do. You’ve got the drive and determination to make it to the top – but you’ll never reach the height you want. And it’s that same drive and determination that’s going to stop you.
You see, Layne – and I apologise in advance for boring you to tears slash death slash sleep slash whatever pun you want to use – you’ve created a world for yourself where you’re better than you actually are. And you’re striving to fit in to that world. Your alpha-male pride is hurt because the front office decided to book my return closer to the main event than your tag team match? That, Layne, proves that you’ve got some insecurities, and you doubt you’re actually as good as you claim.
Not convinced? Why have you chosen to challenge the locker-room to a gauntlet match? Is it because you want to get all of us out of the way in one go, or is it because you want to prove to yourself that you haven’t over-estimated your own abilities?
Or is it you want an excuse for losing the TV title before you head off on your quest to win the World title?
I’m not complaining, whatever your reason is. Whether you’re going to admit your insecurities before the match or not, the truth of the matter is that when the bell rings you’ve cornered yourself. If you don’t win this match – and win it convincingly – you’ve shown the entire world that the Layne Winters, super-thug persona is a sham. And worse, if you’re the last one in and you still lose, especially to the first or second name called for the ring, you’ve proven you can’t beat a tired, battle-weary opponent. What hope, pardon the pun, would you have against a fresh World Champion? Your self-image would be cracked or shattered, and you’d have nobody to blame but yourself.
Can you bounce back from that, Layne?
I’m not worried about you, Layne. Worried for you a little, because I hate watching grown men acting like two-year-olds who’ve just been told no. Your bluster about shoving me down the card, back where I belong? As I’ve said before, I’ll wrestle anyone that Dan Ryan wants to put in front of me. If he wants to bring back Hans or Wong Pei, I’ll wrestle them. If he wants me in the opening match or the main event, so long as he pays me it gives me a chance to check my progress.
To me, Layne, you’re nothing more than a bully. And do you know the best thing about watching a bully, either up close or from afar?
It’s realising that at the end of it all, they’ll be forgotten.
But maybe I am getting ahead of myself. I can’t even blame old age yet, can I?
This match… whoever walks out of it with the win is immaterial. Whoever walks out of it knowing they gave everything they could, they’ll have learnt a lot. They may not be closer to the summit of Mount Empire Pro Wrestling, but they’ll be closer to fulfilling their own potential. Me, I hope I’m one of the first two names called. It’ll be so much more of a workout that way. And if I do survive and take the title?
Well, I did wonders for the first EPW belt Adam Benjamin won. Maybe I’ll repeat that with the other title he was first to hold. I guess we’ll see after Aggression, won’t we?
[FADE OUT]
Karl: Just like riding a bicycle, you never forget it. Sometimes, though, you do try and ride a penny farthing when you’re used to a modern bike and the difference takes you by surprise. But all in all, I’m happy with what happened in Vegas. I didn’t feel like I was at the same level I was before, but these things take time. And I was damn, damn close to being at my best, so my match with Fusenhoff did it’s job.
And as for my thoughts on him? Fusenshoff - has a great future, and it is only a matter of time before he’s looking down at the rest of us from the top of the Empire Pro mountain. If any of you are in Vegas, I’d put money on it happening this side of Christmas, but that’s just me.
But, moving on, and away from the Strip, we move on to Aggression Fifty One, where I find myself getting ready for a type of match I’ve never faced before. A gauntlet match, for the TV title. I don’t really know much about Omega or Erik besides remembering that it was almost impossible to breath near the Crimson Chronic Calling Collision locker-room some nights, but I’m sure before the lights turn on and the first name gets called to head to the ring I’ll have been introduced to them.
Layne Winters, on the other hand, I do have some first-hand knowledge of. If only because he sees me as a potential threat and wants to make a name for himself at my expense in pretty much the same way a few people before have done. Hey, I must still be pretty popular and grudgingly regarded.
Layne, I’ll be straight with you. You’re one of the kinds of people I’ve come across time and again who could be the best at what they want to do. You’ve got the drive and determination to make it to the top – but you’ll never reach the height you want. And it’s that same drive and determination that’s going to stop you.
You see, Layne – and I apologise in advance for boring you to tears slash death slash sleep slash whatever pun you want to use – you’ve created a world for yourself where you’re better than you actually are. And you’re striving to fit in to that world. Your alpha-male pride is hurt because the front office decided to book my return closer to the main event than your tag team match? That, Layne, proves that you’ve got some insecurities, and you doubt you’re actually as good as you claim.
Not convinced? Why have you chosen to challenge the locker-room to a gauntlet match? Is it because you want to get all of us out of the way in one go, or is it because you want to prove to yourself that you haven’t over-estimated your own abilities?
Or is it you want an excuse for losing the TV title before you head off on your quest to win the World title?
I’m not complaining, whatever your reason is. Whether you’re going to admit your insecurities before the match or not, the truth of the matter is that when the bell rings you’ve cornered yourself. If you don’t win this match – and win it convincingly – you’ve shown the entire world that the Layne Winters, super-thug persona is a sham. And worse, if you’re the last one in and you still lose, especially to the first or second name called for the ring, you’ve proven you can’t beat a tired, battle-weary opponent. What hope, pardon the pun, would you have against a fresh World Champion? Your self-image would be cracked or shattered, and you’d have nobody to blame but yourself.
Can you bounce back from that, Layne?
I’m not worried about you, Layne. Worried for you a little, because I hate watching grown men acting like two-year-olds who’ve just been told no. Your bluster about shoving me down the card, back where I belong? As I’ve said before, I’ll wrestle anyone that Dan Ryan wants to put in front of me. If he wants to bring back Hans or Wong Pei, I’ll wrestle them. If he wants me in the opening match or the main event, so long as he pays me it gives me a chance to check my progress.
To me, Layne, you’re nothing more than a bully. And do you know the best thing about watching a bully, either up close or from afar?
It’s realising that at the end of it all, they’ll be forgotten.
But maybe I am getting ahead of myself. I can’t even blame old age yet, can I?
This match… whoever walks out of it with the win is immaterial. Whoever walks out of it knowing they gave everything they could, they’ll have learnt a lot. They may not be closer to the summit of Mount Empire Pro Wrestling, but they’ll be closer to fulfilling their own potential. Me, I hope I’m one of the first two names called. It’ll be so much more of a workout that way. And if I do survive and take the title?
Well, I did wonders for the first EPW belt Adam Benjamin won. Maybe I’ll repeat that with the other title he was first to hold. I guess we’ll see after Aggression, won’t we?
[FADE OUT]
LQJT86C
Where's my money, Chad?
(FADEIN: A knife-blade sliding back and forth, cutting deeper into a wooden axe-handle until a notch is made. Below it- several more notches, maybe more. Camera zooms out, just a bit, and now we see EPW Television Champion LAYNE WINTERS fold the knife up and put it into the pocket of his red and black flannel coat. With both hands, he lifts up the axe and inspects each notch. Smiling, he turns his face to the camera, golden hair covered with his signature black Seahawks hat)
WINTERS: It ain't hieroglyphics, doesn't require expert analysis, or even translation. You see, these little notches...they have universal meaning. Now I could leave this axe in the middle of the woods somewhere in the Northwest, or drop it off on the corner of Park and Lexington in some Northeast metropolis, and it wouldn't take a violent man or even a bright man to know right away what these notches represent. Someone's keeping count, Karl. And look at each notch- they ain't even the same color. You can tell they were made over a period of time, that the owner of this axe which is meant for grinding...he's keeping tabs. Maybe he cuts them out of habit, or he's taking record of how many trees he cuts down. But somehow, you just know that ain't the case. This man who cut these notches, he did so with bad intentions. You never want to meet this man, Karl.
'Cause maybe one of those notches is you.
You talk about getting back on the bicycle, about bullies, about what kind of man I am and how you've come across my kind before, and ON and ON and ON with your "been there, done that" HORESH*T...but let me clarify a few things for you.
Lots of guys make it to the big show, and right away talk about being champion and winning titles. Layne Winters does it in FOUR MATCHES.
Lots of guys talk about "anyone, anytime, anywhere." Layne Winters goes out week after week, calls out former champions, and puts them into the ground like I said I would.
How many guys regularly call out the entire locker room? Remember when Copycat did that sh*t and I put him on a losing streak? Remember when 90 other people did it and didn't do sh*t about it? Layne Winters calls out the locker room, and when they don't answer the call, he goes ROOM to ROOM beating their heads in, THEN calls 'em out to a f*ckin' gauntlet match.
Virtually every man whose ever cashed a paycheck in this company has called out the World Champ at some point. Layne Winters did it, then he went out in a f*cking cage, and when that son of a b*tch Sean Stevens interfered in Layne's business, he put a beating on that little f*cker like he was his stepchild.
If this was an infomercial, Karl, they'd call it "the Layne Winters difference." And you know what everyone else is? They're brand X. Pour it on your shirt, and the stain's still there. Use it on the floor, and the sh*t's still dirty. Wipe it on the window, the streak remains. I'm Layne Winters, and I GET THE JOB DONE. I clean up like a motherf*cker, Karl. You can use your worldly experience to try and figure me out all you want, but it won't do you any good, 'cause until Aggression 51...you've been playing with BRAND X.
I didn't get into this business because I wanted to grace the cover of magazines, or parlay a few wins into a Hollywood career, or because I wanted the honor of shaking hands and doing battle with so-called legends. Maybe it's all just a lonely hearts club for Karl Brown, where the pinnacle is to have a friendly competition with men you respect and when it's all over we go out for a few drinks and suck each other's dicks. And you know, if you want to suck Fusenshoff's dick, Karl, that's OK, but not on my time. Not on Aggression, not in THAT RING.
The path to the pinnacle, THE BELT, is linear. One way up, one way down. And as long as we're part of the same food chain, Karl, then I've got an axe to grind and a grudge to chase. You didn't need to knock my sister up or bang my wife in a hotel room to get me mad at you, brother. The very fact that we share a locker room, and EPW's very offensive booking of you ahead of me on the last show...well, that's all the motivation I need to cave your f*cking head in.
And not for anything, but you can go ahead and shove all that experience straight up your ass, 'cause it didn't make you any smarter. This is a GAUNTLET MATCH, Karl. I'm the champion, YOU'RE THE GAUNTLET. Sh*t, didn't they explain this to you? Please...if there was any chance at all I'd be the third man, I'd wear a f*cking blindfold. No Karl, I'm the first man, the very first, and you bet your ass I'll outlast you all. That's right, I put MYSELF at a disadvantage, just like I did on pay per view when I told Copycat he could bring Anthology to lumberjack our ladder match if he so wanted. Or how about War Games, when I teamed with and against enemies on both sides?
All the time, man, I'm CONSTANTLY upping the ante, because that's what the f*ck it takes. I don't have the time nor the clean bill of health to wait three years for this sh*t to happen. It needed to happen YESTERDAY...I NEED my shot at the big one. You think I have to lose the TV title to get that shot? Think again. When I clean this f*cking locker room out the way I'm already doing, they can either give me my shot or just call the TV title the best thing going. I may not be marketable, I may not have the charisma, but when my axe has emptied the entire forest, there'll be no other alternative.
Gauntlet match...man, where the hell you gonna get a better deal than that? I feel like a used car salesman, lowering the sticker price to unheard of levels just to get people to walk on the lot. I wish we lived in a world where people had the GUTS to challenge titleholders, like I do, but here I am, offering incentive just so people can work up the balls to sign the dotted line. G*ddamn it, I went door to door at Agg 50 slapping the p*ss outta you clowns...THEN I offer an open challenge gauntlet, so people have a fair shot at revenge. And only ONE OF YOU accepted the challenge? And it was the ONE GUY I had to beat within an inch of his life? Jesus Christ, I actually have to give you credit there, Karl. You're a vagina, but at least you're a vagina with some hair on it. The rest of EPW are nothing but quivering, hairless, preteen vaginas who COWER in fear of this veiny, 15 inch monster of a champion.
I didn't "create a world for myself" where I'm better than I am, as you so elegantly put it Karl. EPW created a TV title division, and I damn near cleaned it the f*ck out. THAT'S the world I'm living in, Karl. Does that make me as good as I say I am? No; the fact that I'm constantly making challenges and backing up everything I say, is what makes me that damn good. I didn't just smack around Mike Bastard and a gaggle of undercard schmucks at Agg 50...I went out there shortly after, and did it to the World Champion too. I call myself the most dangerous man in EPW, because I AM. I call myself the Dreamstealer, because I DO. And I will hold every single one of you motherf*ckers down until you stop crawling towards the top...and when I AM on top, God help you.
You say that drive and determination are what will keep me from achieving, and I LAUGH AT YOU. For my money, you can't be driven enough. You can always want it more than you did yesterday. But this difference in opinion is why I'm Layne Winters, and you're Karl Brown. Why I'm on the rise, and you're in decline. Why I'm NOW, and you're THEN.
I don't respect a thing you ever did, Karl. EPW is deeper and more stacked than it's ever been, talent wise, and I've been in there with the very best of today.
Congratulations on riding your bike again, but I'm coming to Agg 51 in an armored car. Welcome to 2010, Karl. When it's over, you'll take that thing right the f*ck back to the garage. One more notch...one more statistic...
(FADEOUT)
WINTERS: It ain't hieroglyphics, doesn't require expert analysis, or even translation. You see, these little notches...they have universal meaning. Now I could leave this axe in the middle of the woods somewhere in the Northwest, or drop it off on the corner of Park and Lexington in some Northeast metropolis, and it wouldn't take a violent man or even a bright man to know right away what these notches represent. Someone's keeping count, Karl. And look at each notch- they ain't even the same color. You can tell they were made over a period of time, that the owner of this axe which is meant for grinding...he's keeping tabs. Maybe he cuts them out of habit, or he's taking record of how many trees he cuts down. But somehow, you just know that ain't the case. This man who cut these notches, he did so with bad intentions. You never want to meet this man, Karl.
'Cause maybe one of those notches is you.
You talk about getting back on the bicycle, about bullies, about what kind of man I am and how you've come across my kind before, and ON and ON and ON with your "been there, done that" HORESH*T...but let me clarify a few things for you.
Lots of guys make it to the big show, and right away talk about being champion and winning titles. Layne Winters does it in FOUR MATCHES.
Lots of guys talk about "anyone, anytime, anywhere." Layne Winters goes out week after week, calls out former champions, and puts them into the ground like I said I would.
How many guys regularly call out the entire locker room? Remember when Copycat did that sh*t and I put him on a losing streak? Remember when 90 other people did it and didn't do sh*t about it? Layne Winters calls out the locker room, and when they don't answer the call, he goes ROOM to ROOM beating their heads in, THEN calls 'em out to a f*ckin' gauntlet match.
Virtually every man whose ever cashed a paycheck in this company has called out the World Champ at some point. Layne Winters did it, then he went out in a f*cking cage, and when that son of a b*tch Sean Stevens interfered in Layne's business, he put a beating on that little f*cker like he was his stepchild.
If this was an infomercial, Karl, they'd call it "the Layne Winters difference." And you know what everyone else is? They're brand X. Pour it on your shirt, and the stain's still there. Use it on the floor, and the sh*t's still dirty. Wipe it on the window, the streak remains. I'm Layne Winters, and I GET THE JOB DONE. I clean up like a motherf*cker, Karl. You can use your worldly experience to try and figure me out all you want, but it won't do you any good, 'cause until Aggression 51...you've been playing with BRAND X.
I didn't get into this business because I wanted to grace the cover of magazines, or parlay a few wins into a Hollywood career, or because I wanted the honor of shaking hands and doing battle with so-called legends. Maybe it's all just a lonely hearts club for Karl Brown, where the pinnacle is to have a friendly competition with men you respect and when it's all over we go out for a few drinks and suck each other's dicks. And you know, if you want to suck Fusenshoff's dick, Karl, that's OK, but not on my time. Not on Aggression, not in THAT RING.
The path to the pinnacle, THE BELT, is linear. One way up, one way down. And as long as we're part of the same food chain, Karl, then I've got an axe to grind and a grudge to chase. You didn't need to knock my sister up or bang my wife in a hotel room to get me mad at you, brother. The very fact that we share a locker room, and EPW's very offensive booking of you ahead of me on the last show...well, that's all the motivation I need to cave your f*cking head in.
And not for anything, but you can go ahead and shove all that experience straight up your ass, 'cause it didn't make you any smarter. This is a GAUNTLET MATCH, Karl. I'm the champion, YOU'RE THE GAUNTLET. Sh*t, didn't they explain this to you? Please...if there was any chance at all I'd be the third man, I'd wear a f*cking blindfold. No Karl, I'm the first man, the very first, and you bet your ass I'll outlast you all. That's right, I put MYSELF at a disadvantage, just like I did on pay per view when I told Copycat he could bring Anthology to lumberjack our ladder match if he so wanted. Or how about War Games, when I teamed with and against enemies on both sides?
All the time, man, I'm CONSTANTLY upping the ante, because that's what the f*ck it takes. I don't have the time nor the clean bill of health to wait three years for this sh*t to happen. It needed to happen YESTERDAY...I NEED my shot at the big one. You think I have to lose the TV title to get that shot? Think again. When I clean this f*cking locker room out the way I'm already doing, they can either give me my shot or just call the TV title the best thing going. I may not be marketable, I may not have the charisma, but when my axe has emptied the entire forest, there'll be no other alternative.
Gauntlet match...man, where the hell you gonna get a better deal than that? I feel like a used car salesman, lowering the sticker price to unheard of levels just to get people to walk on the lot. I wish we lived in a world where people had the GUTS to challenge titleholders, like I do, but here I am, offering incentive just so people can work up the balls to sign the dotted line. G*ddamn it, I went door to door at Agg 50 slapping the p*ss outta you clowns...THEN I offer an open challenge gauntlet, so people have a fair shot at revenge. And only ONE OF YOU accepted the challenge? And it was the ONE GUY I had to beat within an inch of his life? Jesus Christ, I actually have to give you credit there, Karl. You're a vagina, but at least you're a vagina with some hair on it. The rest of EPW are nothing but quivering, hairless, preteen vaginas who COWER in fear of this veiny, 15 inch monster of a champion.
I didn't "create a world for myself" where I'm better than I am, as you so elegantly put it Karl. EPW created a TV title division, and I damn near cleaned it the f*ck out. THAT'S the world I'm living in, Karl. Does that make me as good as I say I am? No; the fact that I'm constantly making challenges and backing up everything I say, is what makes me that damn good. I didn't just smack around Mike Bastard and a gaggle of undercard schmucks at Agg 50...I went out there shortly after, and did it to the World Champion too. I call myself the most dangerous man in EPW, because I AM. I call myself the Dreamstealer, because I DO. And I will hold every single one of you motherf*ckers down until you stop crawling towards the top...and when I AM on top, God help you.
You say that drive and determination are what will keep me from achieving, and I LAUGH AT YOU. For my money, you can't be driven enough. You can always want it more than you did yesterday. But this difference in opinion is why I'm Layne Winters, and you're Karl Brown. Why I'm on the rise, and you're in decline. Why I'm NOW, and you're THEN.
I don't respect a thing you ever did, Karl. EPW is deeper and more stacked than it's ever been, talent wise, and I've been in there with the very best of today.
Congratulations on riding your bike again, but I'm coming to Agg 51 in an armored car. Welcome to 2010, Karl. When it's over, you'll take that thing right the f*ck back to the garage. One more notch...one more statistic...
(FADEOUT)
EpyonMarx
New member
- Joined
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- Location
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- Website
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[FADE IN. “The Dragon” is leaning back against the bonnet of his car, a deep green BMW 3 series. To the right of shot we can see a large river, and we can see some rolling hills on the horizon. Karl, for his part, is dressed casually, with a white long sleeve T-shirt underneath a commemorative Russian Roulette T-shirt (headlined by Beast vs. Dis) to ward off the spring chill. His hands are back on the bonnet. We can hear soft natural sounds, including the rushing of the river]
Karl: There’s one word that sums up Layne Winters, from what I’ve seen. Can you guess what it is before I finish telling you some of the ones that don’t match him?
Tactful.
Calm.
Original.
Unique.
Coherent.
Thought-provoking.
Challenging.
No. What Layne Winters is, based on everything I’ve seen and heard, is completely and utterly… underwhelming. I’m beginning to wonder what on earth all the fuss is about: I’ve heard from Layne what a tough guy he is; what a great talent he is; how he ‘cleans up’; how he’s better than everybody else… and each time he opens his mouth, I’m reminded of people far bigger, far stronger, far more well-rounded in the ring, who said exactly the same thing. Some with more profanity, some with the creativity to do without any profanity, but it all boiled down to the same things.
“Grr, I’m bad.” “Grr, I’m the best.” "Grr I'm the monster truck to everyone else's Citroen two C V." “Grr, why do my knuckles drag?”
OK. That was a little below belt and possibly rude. I suppose you want me to do a deep psychological profile and point out just where Layne Winters shows his true colours?
Do I really need to? It’ll just end up going around in circles like it did with X, Pulsar, Steven Shane, Issac Byrne… the list goes on. Someone says they’re the baddest on the planet, the greatest of the great, I point out they’re nowhere near as talented as they think and they’re deluding themselves, they point to their success (how quickly they won a title, how many titles they’ve won, who they’ve beaten, et cetera). I point out that who they’ve beaten is irrelevant come the opening bell, as is what they’ve done up to that moment. Next he’ll come back and say something like he’s going to mow through the entire competition because he’s the best there’s ever going to be, that I’m insignificant, and all the while he’ll be painting a picture of himself that he sees in his mind but which the reality of life doesn’t support.
Did Layne Winters win the TV title quickly? Yes, yes he did. Does that sound in least bit impressive?
To the guy who wrestled for the Intercontinental Championship in his fifth match and in his third narrowly missed out on beating the man who became the first World Heavyweight Champion in this company’s history, no. Sorry, Layne. I may be twenty seven years old so quite young, but nothing you say about your wrestling or sporting career is going to impress me. Mostly because I can find a parallel with my own career and I wasn’t impressed with any of it when I did it.
So, Layne, let’s stop trying to measure phalluses or having a pissing contest, and get down to business.
The TV title that you wear around your waist is up for grabs in a Gauntlet match. And you’ve been guaranteed first entry. A new twist, I was kind of hoping to be the first man out and last man standing myself to see if my stamina holds up, but if that’s the game.
You want to prove you’re a tough-guy. You want to prove that you’re better than the entire roster, and you’re impatient. You believe you’re tougher than anyone else, better than anyone else, that you always get the job done. I get it. You’ve got an image to protect and you’ll go to any lengths to protect it.
But, answer this, Layne. Say, for sake of argument, you go through the entire roster. You win the World Title. What then? You’re hurting, you say you don’t have much time before you need to take time off for surgery. So, you win the world title, take time off to get some injuries healed up, and hopefully come back. Are you going to do the same thing again? Until the next injury?
What, Layne, are you going to do if you go through the roster?
And what’re you going to do if someone else comes along and does the same thing? Goes through the entire roster, and knocks you off your perch?
You see, Layne, whatever you claim to be… whatever you say you are… ultimately you’re nothing that’s not been seen before and won’t be seen again. I’m no different in that respect. There are some people who, like me, challenge themselves to go above and beyond their physical and mental limits. And there will be again. I accept that. But whereas you think you’re bigger, badder, hungrier than anyone else, I keep myself grounded. I’ve already planned what I’ll do if I win this match and what I’ll do if I lose. If I win and I’m number three or four out to the ring, you get a rematch, no questions asked, nothing Dan Ryan can do to change it. If I win by outlasting Omega and Erik after pinning you, I let Dan decide if he wants to see me go up against someone else, or you again. And if I lose? I’ve lost before, and I’ll take it on the chin instead of throwing my toys out of the pram.
But, ah, you say, have I planned what I’ll do if you maim me so utterly I have to retire? I’ll let you in on a secret, folks – if I can speak, I’ve got my radio career. If I can get words on a page, I can write. I’ll be disappointed if my in-ring career ended suddenly but it’s not the end of the world. Losing isn’t the end of the world, and injury isn’t the end of the world.
My world, anyway. You, Layne… I get the distinct impression that if you lose at Aggression, and show that you can’t go through the roster single-handedly in one fell swoop – you’ll moan and make excuses or cry about it like a bully who’s had someone stand up to him. The better thing to do would be to learn from your mistakes and try again, but you seem too angry at the world for that. Plus I’ve already said you’re unoriginal so I won’t be betting any money on you following that path.
[He crosses his arms]
Karl: Layne, you can say what you want. I know full well you’re going to, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. But before the opening bell rings at Aggression, before your music even hits and you make your way to the ring… heck, before you even make it to the arena – realise one thing.
You don’t scare me. And the angrier you are, the more you try to show the world how bad you are, the more you try to reassure yourself through your actions that the picture you’ve got in your head is reality – the more openings you create for me to exploit. And it will only take one mistake from you, and the walls you’ve built will be washed away so fast you’ll be back in the locker-room watching someone else go through the roster.
[He pauses, face sullen, before smiling and uncrossing his arms]
Karl: But let’s not forget we’ve got Omega and Erik Black to think about. Erik I’ve met backstage once or twice, if he remembers those meetings. I’ve seen him in the ring but despite the fact we were both on the initial roster I don’t remember ever facing him, with him being a tag team expert whilst I was here and all. I’m looking forward to seeing what he’s all about in the ring. And Omega?
Well… never met him, but that’s not going to stop me enjoying any match with him. A different opponent, and a different challenge. That’s what professional wrestling is about for me. The game of mental chess with myself to see if I can outthink and out-match the person across the ring from me. I’ll have more to say about Omega and Erik once I’ve looked over a few more tapes. I just hope they’re looking forward to this match as much as I and the fans are.
Layne Winters, Erik Black, Omega, and Karl Brown… it should be interesting.
[FADE OUT]
Karl: There’s one word that sums up Layne Winters, from what I’ve seen. Can you guess what it is before I finish telling you some of the ones that don’t match him?
Tactful.
Calm.
Original.
Unique.
Coherent.
Thought-provoking.
Challenging.
No. What Layne Winters is, based on everything I’ve seen and heard, is completely and utterly… underwhelming. I’m beginning to wonder what on earth all the fuss is about: I’ve heard from Layne what a tough guy he is; what a great talent he is; how he ‘cleans up’; how he’s better than everybody else… and each time he opens his mouth, I’m reminded of people far bigger, far stronger, far more well-rounded in the ring, who said exactly the same thing. Some with more profanity, some with the creativity to do without any profanity, but it all boiled down to the same things.
“Grr, I’m bad.” “Grr, I’m the best.” "Grr I'm the monster truck to everyone else's Citroen two C V." “Grr, why do my knuckles drag?”
OK. That was a little below belt and possibly rude. I suppose you want me to do a deep psychological profile and point out just where Layne Winters shows his true colours?
Do I really need to? It’ll just end up going around in circles like it did with X, Pulsar, Steven Shane, Issac Byrne… the list goes on. Someone says they’re the baddest on the planet, the greatest of the great, I point out they’re nowhere near as talented as they think and they’re deluding themselves, they point to their success (how quickly they won a title, how many titles they’ve won, who they’ve beaten, et cetera). I point out that who they’ve beaten is irrelevant come the opening bell, as is what they’ve done up to that moment. Next he’ll come back and say something like he’s going to mow through the entire competition because he’s the best there’s ever going to be, that I’m insignificant, and all the while he’ll be painting a picture of himself that he sees in his mind but which the reality of life doesn’t support.
Did Layne Winters win the TV title quickly? Yes, yes he did. Does that sound in least bit impressive?
To the guy who wrestled for the Intercontinental Championship in his fifth match and in his third narrowly missed out on beating the man who became the first World Heavyweight Champion in this company’s history, no. Sorry, Layne. I may be twenty seven years old so quite young, but nothing you say about your wrestling or sporting career is going to impress me. Mostly because I can find a parallel with my own career and I wasn’t impressed with any of it when I did it.
So, Layne, let’s stop trying to measure phalluses or having a pissing contest, and get down to business.
The TV title that you wear around your waist is up for grabs in a Gauntlet match. And you’ve been guaranteed first entry. A new twist, I was kind of hoping to be the first man out and last man standing myself to see if my stamina holds up, but if that’s the game.
You want to prove you’re a tough-guy. You want to prove that you’re better than the entire roster, and you’re impatient. You believe you’re tougher than anyone else, better than anyone else, that you always get the job done. I get it. You’ve got an image to protect and you’ll go to any lengths to protect it.
But, answer this, Layne. Say, for sake of argument, you go through the entire roster. You win the World Title. What then? You’re hurting, you say you don’t have much time before you need to take time off for surgery. So, you win the world title, take time off to get some injuries healed up, and hopefully come back. Are you going to do the same thing again? Until the next injury?
What, Layne, are you going to do if you go through the roster?
And what’re you going to do if someone else comes along and does the same thing? Goes through the entire roster, and knocks you off your perch?
You see, Layne, whatever you claim to be… whatever you say you are… ultimately you’re nothing that’s not been seen before and won’t be seen again. I’m no different in that respect. There are some people who, like me, challenge themselves to go above and beyond their physical and mental limits. And there will be again. I accept that. But whereas you think you’re bigger, badder, hungrier than anyone else, I keep myself grounded. I’ve already planned what I’ll do if I win this match and what I’ll do if I lose. If I win and I’m number three or four out to the ring, you get a rematch, no questions asked, nothing Dan Ryan can do to change it. If I win by outlasting Omega and Erik after pinning you, I let Dan decide if he wants to see me go up against someone else, or you again. And if I lose? I’ve lost before, and I’ll take it on the chin instead of throwing my toys out of the pram.
But, ah, you say, have I planned what I’ll do if you maim me so utterly I have to retire? I’ll let you in on a secret, folks – if I can speak, I’ve got my radio career. If I can get words on a page, I can write. I’ll be disappointed if my in-ring career ended suddenly but it’s not the end of the world. Losing isn’t the end of the world, and injury isn’t the end of the world.
My world, anyway. You, Layne… I get the distinct impression that if you lose at Aggression, and show that you can’t go through the roster single-handedly in one fell swoop – you’ll moan and make excuses or cry about it like a bully who’s had someone stand up to him. The better thing to do would be to learn from your mistakes and try again, but you seem too angry at the world for that. Plus I’ve already said you’re unoriginal so I won’t be betting any money on you following that path.
[He crosses his arms]
Karl: Layne, you can say what you want. I know full well you’re going to, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. But before the opening bell rings at Aggression, before your music even hits and you make your way to the ring… heck, before you even make it to the arena – realise one thing.
You don’t scare me. And the angrier you are, the more you try to show the world how bad you are, the more you try to reassure yourself through your actions that the picture you’ve got in your head is reality – the more openings you create for me to exploit. And it will only take one mistake from you, and the walls you’ve built will be washed away so fast you’ll be back in the locker-room watching someone else go through the roster.
[He pauses, face sullen, before smiling and uncrossing his arms]
Karl: But let’s not forget we’ve got Omega and Erik Black to think about. Erik I’ve met backstage once or twice, if he remembers those meetings. I’ve seen him in the ring but despite the fact we were both on the initial roster I don’t remember ever facing him, with him being a tag team expert whilst I was here and all. I’m looking forward to seeing what he’s all about in the ring. And Omega?
Well… never met him, but that’s not going to stop me enjoying any match with him. A different opponent, and a different challenge. That’s what professional wrestling is about for me. The game of mental chess with myself to see if I can outthink and out-match the person across the ring from me. I’ll have more to say about Omega and Erik once I’ve looked over a few more tapes. I just hope they’re looking forward to this match as much as I and the fans are.
Layne Winters, Erik Black, Omega, and Karl Brown… it should be interesting.
[FADE OUT]
EpyonMarx
New member
- Joined
- Nov 16, 2003
- Messages
- 1,004
- Points
- 0
- Location
- Nottingham, England
- Website
- www.karl-brown.co.uk
[FADE IN to a wide-angle shot of vast, open countryside, with rolling hills in the distance. The sky only has a few lonely clouds, and at first there is almost nothing to hear except the rustle of leaves from a wood we see to our left as we turn. The light is soft and delicate, and it takes a moment to spot a small herd of deer on a nearby hill: some are grazing, some are resting in the sun, and a couple of the younger ones are playing happily. It is the vision of a tranquil scene.
We walk through this peaceful landscape, not following any path and without any particular destination or plan in mind. We just seem drawn this way, then that, then another way. Fields of flowers, woods, idyllic creeks – until, in the distance, we see what looks like a castle turret. Starting towards it, it doesn’t take long to hear a faint rumble that sounds like thunder; but, as we get closer, we start to hear violent shouts. The words are indistinguishable at this distance, but we quicken our pace, through the forest and up the hill until we stand on the summit and see a fierce battle being waged in front of the massive stone walls of the castle
CUTTO: the battlefield. The soldiers of both sides are dressed in early Medieval military dress, one side appearing to be Anglo-Saxon, and the other a cross between Nordic and Norman. The fighting is intoxicating, the roar and clashes of steel on steel nearly deafening]
Soldier: Die bastard!
[We barely dodge the swing of the Norman soldier’s sword, spinning and bringing our shield crashing against the back of his skull. His helmet falls to the ground and one of our allies brings his francisca, or small hand-held single-bladed axe, to severe the fallen man’s spine. We look at our blood-spattered face as we wipe the blood from our eyes, a deep, resonating and powerful voiceover speaking]
v/o: Battle. Vicious, eternal.
[A horn sounds from above us, a storm of arrows speeding down on us. Our ally, helpful a moment ago, now lies dead as we hold our shield above our head. As the storm dies down, we dare to look out from under the rim of our cover at the battlements above]
v/o: Two nations. Two armies. Two battalions. Two units.
Two men.
[Another hale of arrows. We rush towards the fortress wall, but turn back as the piercing screams of ally and enemy soldiers shocks us to our senses and we feel the heat of the boiling oil being poured from the murder-holes.
As we turn, rushing towards our siege engines, we come across an enemy, eyes rabid and sword raising high. We lower our shoulder, smashing into his chest. His sword falls point-down in the viscous mud, and we seize it, stabbing it down into his throat and leaving it there to return to our lines]
v/o: Territory. Vengeance. Pride.
[Part of our line sprints past us towards the fortress, the air thick with our battlecry]
v/o: Freedom. Oppression. Ideals.
[We turn, watching the battle now from a distance]
v/o: Ultimately, all battles are about dominance.
[Slowly, the battle fades from view, leaving the castle before us.
CUTTO: A scream of pain. In the pitch-torch light, we can see a bearded man in his early 30s, stripped to the waist, his wrists shackled to the wall. His hair is a mess, sticking to the sweat oozing from his pores. His chest is littered with cuts and burns]
v/o: Dominance takes many forms. Gold, jewels, and riches – a man’s wealth. Blood, sweat, pain – a man’s strength.
[A whip smashes across the man’s chest, but another scream only follows when a red-hot poker is laid across his chest]
v/o: The quest for dominance over fellow men has led to atrocities. Slaughter, mayhem, genocide – all in the name of dominance. Ego.
Pride.
[The man is branded again, the sinews in his neck stretched to breaking point as he screams, his head tilted back, before his head slumps forward]
v/o: Pride keeps this man from talking. He needs to show he’s tougher, stronger than his foe. His foe strikes him again and again to get him to talk and show he’s more vicious and dominant.
[We back through the door without opening it, one final piercing scream. A familiar voice takes over from the voiceover, speaking out-of-shot]
Karl: And to maintain dominance… we build walls.
[CUTTO: a spiral stairwell. The Dragon is standing holding a pitch-torch, one hand in his pocket. He’s dressed in smart-casual attire: pale trousers with a brown belt and tan boots; a brown shirt with silver and gold pin-stripes over a white T-shirt, the shirtsleeves rolled to just below the elbow. His shadow falls behind him, flickering in the flames]
Karl: Dominance is a strange thing. Every single individual in a social group seeks to achieve it. Be the alpha male. Top dog. Pride leader. King. Emperor. Champion. In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries it’s been no different, only the group we wanted to lead changed. Politicians want to lead the country. Friends want to be seen as top of their group of friends, even if all they can do is watch from the sidelines as plans are made without their approval. The drive and desire to be seen as the pinnacle is there. Even me – I want to be the best within my own identified pack.
But the difference between myself and someone like Layne Winters, is that my pack, my group – is just me. More accurately it’s who I was yesterday. A week ago. A decade ago. Because of that – how small my group to dominate is – I haven’t had to build any walls or delusions.
But you, Layne? Your walls are thicker than this castle’s. They keep others from hearing the screams of agony you don’t want them to hear. They stop others coming in and taking what you feel is rightfully yours.
[Suddenly the scene changes, Brown staying in the same place as the scene shimmers. We are now in a cavernous throne room, complete with luxurious tapestries and gold-lined mahogany throne]
Karl: Your crown.
[He walks over to the throne, leaning against one of the ornate arms]
Karl: It looks almost impregnable, doesn’t it? To reach this throne-room, an army would have had to storm the walls on three sides. The fourth faces out to sea. Of the three walls you can reach by land, each has a vast killing field, with murder-holes for oil and flame arrows. The towers reach high into the heavens. The gate is defended by hoards willing to die in defence of their King. The corridors are made to defend, not to live. If anyone was to ever reach this throne room [he gestures, and the camera PANS ROUND to see the upper gallery]
Karl: Archers would be placed up there. The King would be safe in hiding and the few enemy troops who reach this far would surely be too exhausted to even hide.
In short, this place has been built to protect.
Protect what? A sense of self. An image that has been unconsciously, but carefully, built over years. Layne Winters’ sense of importance, of dominance. His desire and need to be seen as the greatest amongst his peers. Do you think it’s actually a surprise he’s admitted he’s hurting? Do you think it’s an accident that he says he hasn’t got the time to wait for success to come to him and that he’s going to go and seize it with both hands? Of course it’s not!
He wants you to know how tough he is. He wants you to know how hungry and driven he is, that not even a serious injury requiring surgery will keep him from success. He wants you to see him as better than you, and he’s prepared to do whatever it takes to bring that image to life.
But what would you suppose would happen if Layne can’t make that happen?
We’ve all seen it. Someone with delusions above their abilities convinces themselves of their superiority so utterly that they close themselves off from the world. And we’ve laughed at comedy shows where the villain, previously so confident that their plan would come to fruition, they kick and scream as their fortress collapses around their ears.
It’s part of Hollywood, meant to make us laugh at the downfall of the villain as the hero triumphs. Comeuppance, you might say. But as much of a cliché as it appears to be it happens in real life, too. Eric Davis comes to mind.
And if he’s not careful, Layne Winters could end up the same way. His image of the hard-man – the armoured truck to everyone else’s bicycle, as he said – what happens when that shatters? Does he kick and scream? Blame others? Call it a fluke?
It’ll be interesting to see.
[He stands, moving to the wall and placing the torch in situ]
Karl: Why am I so confident that Layne’s going to end up with his image of himself torn? Why do I think that Layne’s not anywhere near as good as he claims to be?
Because nobody is unbeatable. Nobody – nobody – is so great that there isn’t a chink in their armour. That’s the point of the story of Achilles. You only have to look hard enough to find the weakness in anyone. And Layne’s weakness is the same as many people in this business. His pride. His ego.
This match – a gauntlet match – is one example of his pride, pushing him into a bigger challenge. With each challenge he succeeds in, he has to push himself to another, then another, until one day, he meets a challenge he cannot best. He’s hoping he can beat three of the Empire Pro roster in a single match, one after the other, to walk away with his title intact. But, the problem comes when his ego puts him in a position he can’t succeed in. That’s the downfall of so many in this business. Ego drives them higher and higher – until you get to the story of Icarus.
Is Layne at that point?
[CUTTO: The top of one of the towers, on the seaward side of the castle. We look quickly over the edge, as the waves lash at the stone wall]
Karl: Of course, this is just talk. Layne is a man of action. He’s made that abundantly clear. He stands on the walls of his little castle, ready to repel any attack. And at Aggression fifty one, his world is going to be under attack. If he can’t beat me, or Erik, or Omega, he loses, and the fans see that he’s not the king he claims to be. He’s just another man. And Layne, himself? He can either go into denial, say that without the TV title he’s free to go after Sean Stevens. Or, slowly, he can wake up to the reality of life, that failure is as real as success. He can rise from the fall as the walls he’s built crumble, and he can move on, leaving the defeat behind and striving with a purpose and clearer mind.
[Karl looks down over the battlements, watching the waves as they strike the wall time and again. The camera slowly scans down over the wall, and Karl speaks off-camera]
Karl: Layne’s probably going to keep going on and on about how great he is, how dominant he is and how he’s going to rip me a new one. I’d be surprised if he didn’t. But, for all his flaws, I do expect Layne to put up a fight and challenge me physically. People with egos like his, can’t do anything else. They’re similar to me. Keep pushing through their limits and get better and better, because their ego won’t let them do any different.
But – and this is only one of a few differences people can bring up – his ego won’t be satiated until he’s destroyed every challenger to his dominance of professional wrestling and is undisputed king, with nobody daring to set foot in the ring with him for fear of their own safety. Me? My ego just wants to see how far I go before my body and mind shut down completely. It’s what’s driven me in competitive sport for almost twenty years, through injuries, hardship, wins and losses.
And, win or lose, it’s what will drive me through this gauntlet match and beyond. When and if Layne loses the title, what does he have that’ll drive him onward?
It’ll be the measure of the man when we know that.
[The slowly, the water-level rises, until less than twenty seconds later, the entire castle is engulfed by the sea. We start to hear an acoustic guitar, followed by the voice of Bruce Dickinson]
Bruce Dickinson: I throw myself into the sea
Release the waves let it wash over me
To face the fear I once believed
The Tears of the Dragon for you and for me
[FADE OUT]
We walk through this peaceful landscape, not following any path and without any particular destination or plan in mind. We just seem drawn this way, then that, then another way. Fields of flowers, woods, idyllic creeks – until, in the distance, we see what looks like a castle turret. Starting towards it, it doesn’t take long to hear a faint rumble that sounds like thunder; but, as we get closer, we start to hear violent shouts. The words are indistinguishable at this distance, but we quicken our pace, through the forest and up the hill until we stand on the summit and see a fierce battle being waged in front of the massive stone walls of the castle
CUTTO: the battlefield. The soldiers of both sides are dressed in early Medieval military dress, one side appearing to be Anglo-Saxon, and the other a cross between Nordic and Norman. The fighting is intoxicating, the roar and clashes of steel on steel nearly deafening]
Soldier: Die bastard!
[We barely dodge the swing of the Norman soldier’s sword, spinning and bringing our shield crashing against the back of his skull. His helmet falls to the ground and one of our allies brings his francisca, or small hand-held single-bladed axe, to severe the fallen man’s spine. We look at our blood-spattered face as we wipe the blood from our eyes, a deep, resonating and powerful voiceover speaking]
v/o: Battle. Vicious, eternal.
[A horn sounds from above us, a storm of arrows speeding down on us. Our ally, helpful a moment ago, now lies dead as we hold our shield above our head. As the storm dies down, we dare to look out from under the rim of our cover at the battlements above]
v/o: Two nations. Two armies. Two battalions. Two units.
Two men.
[Another hale of arrows. We rush towards the fortress wall, but turn back as the piercing screams of ally and enemy soldiers shocks us to our senses and we feel the heat of the boiling oil being poured from the murder-holes.
As we turn, rushing towards our siege engines, we come across an enemy, eyes rabid and sword raising high. We lower our shoulder, smashing into his chest. His sword falls point-down in the viscous mud, and we seize it, stabbing it down into his throat and leaving it there to return to our lines]
v/o: Territory. Vengeance. Pride.
[Part of our line sprints past us towards the fortress, the air thick with our battlecry]
v/o: Freedom. Oppression. Ideals.
[We turn, watching the battle now from a distance]
v/o: Ultimately, all battles are about dominance.
[Slowly, the battle fades from view, leaving the castle before us.
CUTTO: A scream of pain. In the pitch-torch light, we can see a bearded man in his early 30s, stripped to the waist, his wrists shackled to the wall. His hair is a mess, sticking to the sweat oozing from his pores. His chest is littered with cuts and burns]
v/o: Dominance takes many forms. Gold, jewels, and riches – a man’s wealth. Blood, sweat, pain – a man’s strength.
[A whip smashes across the man’s chest, but another scream only follows when a red-hot poker is laid across his chest]
v/o: The quest for dominance over fellow men has led to atrocities. Slaughter, mayhem, genocide – all in the name of dominance. Ego.
Pride.
[The man is branded again, the sinews in his neck stretched to breaking point as he screams, his head tilted back, before his head slumps forward]
v/o: Pride keeps this man from talking. He needs to show he’s tougher, stronger than his foe. His foe strikes him again and again to get him to talk and show he’s more vicious and dominant.
[We back through the door without opening it, one final piercing scream. A familiar voice takes over from the voiceover, speaking out-of-shot]
Karl: And to maintain dominance… we build walls.
[CUTTO: a spiral stairwell. The Dragon is standing holding a pitch-torch, one hand in his pocket. He’s dressed in smart-casual attire: pale trousers with a brown belt and tan boots; a brown shirt with silver and gold pin-stripes over a white T-shirt, the shirtsleeves rolled to just below the elbow. His shadow falls behind him, flickering in the flames]
Karl: Dominance is a strange thing. Every single individual in a social group seeks to achieve it. Be the alpha male. Top dog. Pride leader. King. Emperor. Champion. In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries it’s been no different, only the group we wanted to lead changed. Politicians want to lead the country. Friends want to be seen as top of their group of friends, even if all they can do is watch from the sidelines as plans are made without their approval. The drive and desire to be seen as the pinnacle is there. Even me – I want to be the best within my own identified pack.
But the difference between myself and someone like Layne Winters, is that my pack, my group – is just me. More accurately it’s who I was yesterday. A week ago. A decade ago. Because of that – how small my group to dominate is – I haven’t had to build any walls or delusions.
But you, Layne? Your walls are thicker than this castle’s. They keep others from hearing the screams of agony you don’t want them to hear. They stop others coming in and taking what you feel is rightfully yours.
[Suddenly the scene changes, Brown staying in the same place as the scene shimmers. We are now in a cavernous throne room, complete with luxurious tapestries and gold-lined mahogany throne]
Karl: Your crown.
[He walks over to the throne, leaning against one of the ornate arms]
Karl: It looks almost impregnable, doesn’t it? To reach this throne-room, an army would have had to storm the walls on three sides. The fourth faces out to sea. Of the three walls you can reach by land, each has a vast killing field, with murder-holes for oil and flame arrows. The towers reach high into the heavens. The gate is defended by hoards willing to die in defence of their King. The corridors are made to defend, not to live. If anyone was to ever reach this throne room [he gestures, and the camera PANS ROUND to see the upper gallery]
Karl: Archers would be placed up there. The King would be safe in hiding and the few enemy troops who reach this far would surely be too exhausted to even hide.
In short, this place has been built to protect.
Protect what? A sense of self. An image that has been unconsciously, but carefully, built over years. Layne Winters’ sense of importance, of dominance. His desire and need to be seen as the greatest amongst his peers. Do you think it’s actually a surprise he’s admitted he’s hurting? Do you think it’s an accident that he says he hasn’t got the time to wait for success to come to him and that he’s going to go and seize it with both hands? Of course it’s not!
He wants you to know how tough he is. He wants you to know how hungry and driven he is, that not even a serious injury requiring surgery will keep him from success. He wants you to see him as better than you, and he’s prepared to do whatever it takes to bring that image to life.
But what would you suppose would happen if Layne can’t make that happen?
We’ve all seen it. Someone with delusions above their abilities convinces themselves of their superiority so utterly that they close themselves off from the world. And we’ve laughed at comedy shows where the villain, previously so confident that their plan would come to fruition, they kick and scream as their fortress collapses around their ears.
It’s part of Hollywood, meant to make us laugh at the downfall of the villain as the hero triumphs. Comeuppance, you might say. But as much of a cliché as it appears to be it happens in real life, too. Eric Davis comes to mind.
And if he’s not careful, Layne Winters could end up the same way. His image of the hard-man – the armoured truck to everyone else’s bicycle, as he said – what happens when that shatters? Does he kick and scream? Blame others? Call it a fluke?
It’ll be interesting to see.
[He stands, moving to the wall and placing the torch in situ]
Karl: Why am I so confident that Layne’s going to end up with his image of himself torn? Why do I think that Layne’s not anywhere near as good as he claims to be?
Because nobody is unbeatable. Nobody – nobody – is so great that there isn’t a chink in their armour. That’s the point of the story of Achilles. You only have to look hard enough to find the weakness in anyone. And Layne’s weakness is the same as many people in this business. His pride. His ego.
This match – a gauntlet match – is one example of his pride, pushing him into a bigger challenge. With each challenge he succeeds in, he has to push himself to another, then another, until one day, he meets a challenge he cannot best. He’s hoping he can beat three of the Empire Pro roster in a single match, one after the other, to walk away with his title intact. But, the problem comes when his ego puts him in a position he can’t succeed in. That’s the downfall of so many in this business. Ego drives them higher and higher – until you get to the story of Icarus.
Is Layne at that point?
[CUTTO: The top of one of the towers, on the seaward side of the castle. We look quickly over the edge, as the waves lash at the stone wall]
Karl: Of course, this is just talk. Layne is a man of action. He’s made that abundantly clear. He stands on the walls of his little castle, ready to repel any attack. And at Aggression fifty one, his world is going to be under attack. If he can’t beat me, or Erik, or Omega, he loses, and the fans see that he’s not the king he claims to be. He’s just another man. And Layne, himself? He can either go into denial, say that without the TV title he’s free to go after Sean Stevens. Or, slowly, he can wake up to the reality of life, that failure is as real as success. He can rise from the fall as the walls he’s built crumble, and he can move on, leaving the defeat behind and striving with a purpose and clearer mind.
[Karl looks down over the battlements, watching the waves as they strike the wall time and again. The camera slowly scans down over the wall, and Karl speaks off-camera]
Karl: Layne’s probably going to keep going on and on about how great he is, how dominant he is and how he’s going to rip me a new one. I’d be surprised if he didn’t. But, for all his flaws, I do expect Layne to put up a fight and challenge me physically. People with egos like his, can’t do anything else. They’re similar to me. Keep pushing through their limits and get better and better, because their ego won’t let them do any different.
But – and this is only one of a few differences people can bring up – his ego won’t be satiated until he’s destroyed every challenger to his dominance of professional wrestling and is undisputed king, with nobody daring to set foot in the ring with him for fear of their own safety. Me? My ego just wants to see how far I go before my body and mind shut down completely. It’s what’s driven me in competitive sport for almost twenty years, through injuries, hardship, wins and losses.
And, win or lose, it’s what will drive me through this gauntlet match and beyond. When and if Layne loses the title, what does he have that’ll drive him onward?
It’ll be the measure of the man when we know that.
[The slowly, the water-level rises, until less than twenty seconds later, the entire castle is engulfed by the sea. We start to hear an acoustic guitar, followed by the voice of Bruce Dickinson]
Bruce Dickinson: I throw myself into the sea
Release the waves let it wash over me
To face the fear I once believed
The Tears of the Dragon for you and for me
[FADE OUT]
SOMEWHERE IN DEATH VALLEY...
(CUE UP: Part 3 of the “Jerusalem” bootleg.)
(The camera slowly fades in on a view of the endless desert in Death Valley. An insect buzzes by... and is seconds later snatched out of the air by the tongue of a lizard. It’s crushed wings disappear into the voracious maw of the reptile, which skitters away as the camera pans over and catches view of a motel right off the turnpike.)
(We fade over to the motel as seasoned Empire Pro field reporter KENNY LOMBARDO steps up to room 7B and knocks on the door. A few moments later, it opens, and the face of a madman appears in the dark.)
DOPESMOKER
SAM!!
Kenny Lombardo
...no, it’s Kenny.
DOPESMOKER
By Odin’s Beard, KENNY?! I thought the bastards KILLED YOU!!
Kenny Lombardo
Heh... I get that all the time. Uh, you busy in there, Erik? Mr. Ryan says your due for a promo.
(Erik opens the door the rest of the way. He’s wearing jeans and an Electric Wizard t-shirt. He looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in a few months, leaving one to wonder if he’s been holed up here since Aggression 51 in Las Vegas. He scratches his head, computing the words just spoken to him by the reporter.)
DOPESMOKER
Due for a promo? SHIT! Damn that tyrant, Dan Ryan! The guy’s a friggin’ SLAVEDRIVER!
Just for that, I’m going to start working for New Frontier...
(Muttering on incoherently, Erik wanders back into the room. Lombardo rolls his eyes as he follows in after him. The room looks completely trashed. If you need a more detailed description, read the New ERA promo, cause I’m too lazy to rehash describing it right now.)
Kenny Lombardo
Erik... are you even aware that you’re scheduled to appear in the Television Champion Layne Winters’ Gauntlet Match at the upcoming Aggression 51?
DOPESMOKER
Dang, dude... I haven’t checked my Facebook in a while. Got tired of it after all those Mafia Wars apps ended up in my inbox...
Usually, Bro-mangous is around to fill me in, but he’s another one of his shroom sabbaticals...
Kenny Lombardo
You mean Ivan, your former tag partner? Where’s he been lately?
DOPESMOKER
Hell if I know, man. I think he’s wandering the Earth... like Caine, from Kung Fu. Only the TV series is called “Sambo.”
Anyway... Layne Winters was forrealz on that Gauntlet Match stuff, huh?
Kenny Lombardo
It would appear so. In fact, he called you out by name when he first laid down the challenge.
DOPESMOKER
Ah... of COURSE he’s calling me out! Layne Winters has had “DOPESMOKER” on the brain ever since the two of us met in the ring back in Tuscon and I LIBERATED his mind from the shackles of DOUBT and IGNORANCE! Ever since that night at Aggression Four-Eight, he’s been BEGGIN’ for another shot at me... and you know why, Kenny?
Kenny Lombardo
Why is that, Erik?
DOPESMOKER
Well... I won’t say he’s AFRAID of me. But I definitely leave him unsettled. PERTURBED, even.
Kenny Lombardo
Are you sure about that, Erik? In your last meeting, Winters retained the TV Title after a costly error on your part.
DOPESMOKER
We’re all doomed to make errors at some point in our lives, Kenny. Let’s see you YOU do a springboard moonsault off the top rope when you’re tripping on MESCALINE, buddy!
(Kenny looks dumbstruck.)
Kenny Lombardo
You were on MESCALINE?!
(Erik scoffs, blowing it off like it’s nothing but another weekend affair.)
DOPESMOKER
Fuck yeah, dude! I was in ARIZONA! Peyote out the ASS!
Back to my point... let’s just look at the base facts on our buddy, Layne the Pain...
He’s young. He’s on a hot streak. He can back up his words. He’s got HOPE backing him up, even though none of them can stand him. He’s got the TV Title around his waist. Pretty impressive package all around, am I right?
Kenny Lombardo
Well... I would imagine so. He’s shown a lot of promise and potential since he claimed the EPW Television Title.
DOPESMOKER
Promise and potential... sure. But for some reason, he’s gotta compensate for something. He’s gotta whip his BALLS out for the world to see. Why else would be be throwing down GAUNTLET MATCHES? Do you think he just ENJOYS having to fight through three opponents one after the other?
He’s a successful wrestler, sure... I mean, that’s more than I could say about myself. Then again, I measure “success” in a much different way. Even WITHOUT a belt around my waist or a long list of opponents I’ve beaten, I can walk into any wrestling ring on this PLANET, rearrange the face of the ****ing universe, and LEAVE with every fan in the arena on his feet, chanting MY name. For all the ass-kicking and name-taking Layne’s done over his short mainstream career, he can’t make the same kind of IMPACT that I make with my very presence in between the ropes.
He KNOWS this... which explains this Gauntlet Match. Beating me the first time enough to convince himself that he’s the better wrestler, so now he’s gotta beat me and two OTHER guys, I guess because that makes him more BADAZZ should he walk out the winner...
Kenny Lombardo
Still... you have to consider the fact that the odds are stacked against the Television Champion. Outside of your abilities, he’ll possibly have to deal with the ever-dangerous and unstable OMEGA, as well as compete with the determination of Karl “The Dragon” Brown.
DOPESMOKER
Hey, let’s not kid ourselves here... Layne is calling out the FALLEN. OMEGA is the sickest mother****er this federation has ever seen... and he’s well aware of the crazy-ass **** I’m BOUND to whip out. Whether he walks out with or without the title... he’s getting HURT.
And Karl Brown? Well... if he shows up in the right place at the right time... the Universe just may see fit to put a strap around your waist.
Kenny Lombardo
What about you and OMEGA? Are you suggesting that neither of you have ANY interest in the TV Title?
(Black’s expression suddenly becomes serious.)
DOPESMOKER
...that is EXACTLY what I’m suggesting, Ken-jamin.
The Fallen don’t care about titles. We are here to REMIND this industry of its dark underbelly... and let it BURN for its ignorance. We do things in that ring that most of the ‘roided-out APES in the locker room are AFRAID to do... and twice more afraid to SEE.
(Eyes bulging and wild, Black’s hand snatches the lapel Lombardo’s suit and yanks the reporter within inches of his face.)
DOPESMOKER
People like HOPE and Anthology call us GARBAGE, Kenny... but we aren’t filth. We are merely the SHADOW cast by those bright and shining SUPERSTARS that look down upon us. We are the BLACK HOLE of the professional wrestling Universe! We are ANTI-MATTER, muthafuggaz! We don’t exist to BEAT you...
…we just want to watch the world SUFFER!!
Kenny Lombardo
...uh... what then for Layne Winters?
(The stoner smirk reappears on Erik’s beguiled features as he releases the reporter’s collar and shrugs.)
DOPESMOKER
That douche-bag? Ah, well... he’s a bright and shining star, Kenny. But all stars eventually die. The star of Layne Winters may just supernova and implode on its own ego come Aggression 51... and the Fallen will be there to show him the DARK SIDE of the Cosmos.
HA HA HA HA!!
(The cheesy maniacal laughing gives way to a fit of coughing, which Erik decides to subside with yet another bong rip. Kenny checks his watch and decides its time to wrap up.)
Kenny Lombardo
Well then, Erik... I certainly hope you seek PROFESSIONAL HELP at some point... but in the meantime, I guess we’ll see you again in Albuquerque.
DOPESMOKER
Sure thing, Kenny... only REMEMBER... there IS no such thing as HOPE...
(His impish smirk finds the camera.)
DOPESMOKER
...there is only INEVITABLE FAILURE...
(Lombardo rolls his eyes and motions to the cameraman to follow him.)
Kenny Lombardo
Uh, right... we’ll just be on our way...
(Erik Black loses himself in the bong once again as Kenny hurries the cameraman out of the hotel room. Once they step outside, Lombardo closes the door and breaths a sigh of relief. He’s survived yet another encounter. Fade to black.)
(CUE UP: Part 3 of the “Jerusalem” bootleg.)
(The camera slowly fades in on a view of the endless desert in Death Valley. An insect buzzes by... and is seconds later snatched out of the air by the tongue of a lizard. It’s crushed wings disappear into the voracious maw of the reptile, which skitters away as the camera pans over and catches view of a motel right off the turnpike.)
(We fade over to the motel as seasoned Empire Pro field reporter KENNY LOMBARDO steps up to room 7B and knocks on the door. A few moments later, it opens, and the face of a madman appears in the dark.)
DOPESMOKER
SAM!!
Kenny Lombardo
...no, it’s Kenny.
DOPESMOKER
By Odin’s Beard, KENNY?! I thought the bastards KILLED YOU!!
Kenny Lombardo
Heh... I get that all the time. Uh, you busy in there, Erik? Mr. Ryan says your due for a promo.
(Erik opens the door the rest of the way. He’s wearing jeans and an Electric Wizard t-shirt. He looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in a few months, leaving one to wonder if he’s been holed up here since Aggression 51 in Las Vegas. He scratches his head, computing the words just spoken to him by the reporter.)
DOPESMOKER
Due for a promo? SHIT! Damn that tyrant, Dan Ryan! The guy’s a friggin’ SLAVEDRIVER!
Just for that, I’m going to start working for New Frontier...
(Muttering on incoherently, Erik wanders back into the room. Lombardo rolls his eyes as he follows in after him. The room looks completely trashed. If you need a more detailed description, read the New ERA promo, cause I’m too lazy to rehash describing it right now.)
Kenny Lombardo
Erik... are you even aware that you’re scheduled to appear in the Television Champion Layne Winters’ Gauntlet Match at the upcoming Aggression 51?
DOPESMOKER
Dang, dude... I haven’t checked my Facebook in a while. Got tired of it after all those Mafia Wars apps ended up in my inbox...
Usually, Bro-mangous is around to fill me in, but he’s another one of his shroom sabbaticals...
Kenny Lombardo
You mean Ivan, your former tag partner? Where’s he been lately?
DOPESMOKER
Hell if I know, man. I think he’s wandering the Earth... like Caine, from Kung Fu. Only the TV series is called “Sambo.”
Anyway... Layne Winters was forrealz on that Gauntlet Match stuff, huh?
Kenny Lombardo
It would appear so. In fact, he called you out by name when he first laid down the challenge.
DOPESMOKER
Ah... of COURSE he’s calling me out! Layne Winters has had “DOPESMOKER” on the brain ever since the two of us met in the ring back in Tuscon and I LIBERATED his mind from the shackles of DOUBT and IGNORANCE! Ever since that night at Aggression Four-Eight, he’s been BEGGIN’ for another shot at me... and you know why, Kenny?
Kenny Lombardo
Why is that, Erik?
DOPESMOKER
Well... I won’t say he’s AFRAID of me. But I definitely leave him unsettled. PERTURBED, even.
Kenny Lombardo
Are you sure about that, Erik? In your last meeting, Winters retained the TV Title after a costly error on your part.
DOPESMOKER
We’re all doomed to make errors at some point in our lives, Kenny. Let’s see you YOU do a springboard moonsault off the top rope when you’re tripping on MESCALINE, buddy!
(Kenny looks dumbstruck.)
Kenny Lombardo
You were on MESCALINE?!
(Erik scoffs, blowing it off like it’s nothing but another weekend affair.)
DOPESMOKER
Fuck yeah, dude! I was in ARIZONA! Peyote out the ASS!
Back to my point... let’s just look at the base facts on our buddy, Layne the Pain...
He’s young. He’s on a hot streak. He can back up his words. He’s got HOPE backing him up, even though none of them can stand him. He’s got the TV Title around his waist. Pretty impressive package all around, am I right?
Kenny Lombardo
Well... I would imagine so. He’s shown a lot of promise and potential since he claimed the EPW Television Title.
DOPESMOKER
Promise and potential... sure. But for some reason, he’s gotta compensate for something. He’s gotta whip his BALLS out for the world to see. Why else would be be throwing down GAUNTLET MATCHES? Do you think he just ENJOYS having to fight through three opponents one after the other?
He’s a successful wrestler, sure... I mean, that’s more than I could say about myself. Then again, I measure “success” in a much different way. Even WITHOUT a belt around my waist or a long list of opponents I’ve beaten, I can walk into any wrestling ring on this PLANET, rearrange the face of the ****ing universe, and LEAVE with every fan in the arena on his feet, chanting MY name. For all the ass-kicking and name-taking Layne’s done over his short mainstream career, he can’t make the same kind of IMPACT that I make with my very presence in between the ropes.
He KNOWS this... which explains this Gauntlet Match. Beating me the first time enough to convince himself that he’s the better wrestler, so now he’s gotta beat me and two OTHER guys, I guess because that makes him more BADAZZ should he walk out the winner...
Kenny Lombardo
Still... you have to consider the fact that the odds are stacked against the Television Champion. Outside of your abilities, he’ll possibly have to deal with the ever-dangerous and unstable OMEGA, as well as compete with the determination of Karl “The Dragon” Brown.
DOPESMOKER
Hey, let’s not kid ourselves here... Layne is calling out the FALLEN. OMEGA is the sickest mother****er this federation has ever seen... and he’s well aware of the crazy-ass **** I’m BOUND to whip out. Whether he walks out with or without the title... he’s getting HURT.
And Karl Brown? Well... if he shows up in the right place at the right time... the Universe just may see fit to put a strap around your waist.
Kenny Lombardo
What about you and OMEGA? Are you suggesting that neither of you have ANY interest in the TV Title?
(Black’s expression suddenly becomes serious.)
DOPESMOKER
...that is EXACTLY what I’m suggesting, Ken-jamin.
The Fallen don’t care about titles. We are here to REMIND this industry of its dark underbelly... and let it BURN for its ignorance. We do things in that ring that most of the ‘roided-out APES in the locker room are AFRAID to do... and twice more afraid to SEE.
(Eyes bulging and wild, Black’s hand snatches the lapel Lombardo’s suit and yanks the reporter within inches of his face.)
DOPESMOKER
People like HOPE and Anthology call us GARBAGE, Kenny... but we aren’t filth. We are merely the SHADOW cast by those bright and shining SUPERSTARS that look down upon us. We are the BLACK HOLE of the professional wrestling Universe! We are ANTI-MATTER, muthafuggaz! We don’t exist to BEAT you...
…we just want to watch the world SUFFER!!
Kenny Lombardo
...uh... what then for Layne Winters?
(The stoner smirk reappears on Erik’s beguiled features as he releases the reporter’s collar and shrugs.)
DOPESMOKER
That douche-bag? Ah, well... he’s a bright and shining star, Kenny. But all stars eventually die. The star of Layne Winters may just supernova and implode on its own ego come Aggression 51... and the Fallen will be there to show him the DARK SIDE of the Cosmos.
HA HA HA HA!!
(The cheesy maniacal laughing gives way to a fit of coughing, which Erik decides to subside with yet another bong rip. Kenny checks his watch and decides its time to wrap up.)
Kenny Lombardo
Well then, Erik... I certainly hope you seek PROFESSIONAL HELP at some point... but in the meantime, I guess we’ll see you again in Albuquerque.
DOPESMOKER
Sure thing, Kenny... only REMEMBER... there IS no such thing as HOPE...
(His impish smirk finds the camera.)
DOPESMOKER
...there is only INEVITABLE FAILURE...
(Lombardo rolls his eyes and motions to the cameraman to follow him.)
Kenny Lombardo
Uh, right... we’ll just be on our way...
(Erik Black loses himself in the bong once again as Kenny hurries the cameraman out of the hotel room. Once they step outside, Lombardo closes the door and breaths a sigh of relief. He’s survived yet another encounter. Fade to black.)
LQJT86C
Where's my money, Chad?
Re: SOMEWHERE IN DEATH VALLEY...
(FADEIN: With the TV title draped over his shoulder, LAYNE WINTERS stands outside his home in a suburb just outside Seattle, Washington. His hair is tied back, this time with no ball cap. On his t-shirt, letters read "New School IS HOPE")
WINTERS: So...let me get this straight. I'm supposed to believe Karl Brown's on the level with Layne Winters, leader of the New School, because...he LOST a f*cking World Title match?
You know, I'll be the first to admit, as I've done on many occasions, that Layne Winters is not a profound orator. When I speak, doves don't fly out across the sky, virgins don't weep, the heavens don't part, rainbows don't shine, and I sure as hell can't fill a stadium full of supporters chanting "YES WE CAN!" I didn't make it out of community college, Karl, so do me a favor and please lower your expectations. I'm not Jonathan f*cking Marx, running around telling people I'm a Princeton Grad, like it'll get you anywhere in the first f*cking place. Nah, I'm "plain Layne" as some have found fit to call me.
But when I speak, I do so with a very simple purpose: make people listen. What do you think, Karl? Think they'd listen to me if I was some washed up dildo calling himself the Dragon, making challenges he couldn't make good on, reminiscing about "the good old days" when he used to ALMOST beat people? No, Karl, they'd go deaf pretty f*cking quick.
You want people to listen, it's not enough to talk. You have to ACT. When you call out Fusenshoff, you better beat him, like I did- take his title and pride. When you call out the number one contender to the WORLD TITLE, you better deliver. I showed up, and The First couldn't beat me. Larry Tact, one half of the tag champs...he fell to me. Copycat, a former champion in his own right...a man who actually DID accomplish something once upon a time...he had his chance TWICE, lost to me in a match they can't stop talking about.
They didn't challenge me, Karl, I went to THEM. Maybe people didn't listen the first time I told 'em I'd break the entire locker room if need be. Then I went and did it. When this entire company was s*cking the Anthology dick, I was knocking it IN THE DIRT. The First, he can't STAND ME, but he wants to be champion, and knew he needed me in his corner if it was to happen.
And that was my first year...
Does that make me "the man"? Does it make number one? No, not yet. It makes me one thing: DANGEROUS, and that's all I need to be to get you to listen. Every word I say, every threat I make, it's a loaded chamber- it's the REAL THING, you better believe that.
I appreciate the fact that you lost a couple big matches five years ago or whatever the f*ck it was, but this is 2010. And in case you haven't noticed, EPW has jumped a few notches in terms of talent since the grand old days when you were getting your ass kicked in impressive fashion. If you wanna last in today's EPW, it's not good enough to simply be a shell of your former self, who wasn't even good enough to begin with. B*tching about my knuckle-dragging demeanor won't do you any favors, not unless you can back it up.
I wish I could communicate this to you on a higher level Karl, but I'm afraid I don't possess the wit or the grammatical tools. Then again, if you didn't want to deal with cretin bullies such as myself, maybe you should have thought twice about the whole PRO WRESTLING as a career thing.
Save me the battlefield metaphors, Churchill. I'm not a castle, I'm not a wall, life isn't a g*ddamn box of chocolates, and Layne Winters isn't for testing. Somebody told me I should come out here holding an hour glass, and say some sh*t about it being like my career and relate it to my quest for the World Title, but really, who the f*ck cares? We've all got a time limit on us, we don't live forever despite what certain 190 pound losers in facepaint will tell you, and SOMEBODY's gonna put us out of this business for good one day.
But I can tell you this, Karl. My time AIN'T UP. You're NOT the guy who's gonna end it. And this title right here...it's not the high water mark of a career that hit the ceiling too quick. Sound familiar? This is only the start, and the last chapter is far from written. Hey, look, a metaphor. I DID IT!
Phallus measuring content? Please...I'll put your f*cking EYE OUT.
As for you Erik, I am absolutely afraid...
...that I might actually kill you in the ring this time, as opposed to laying you out unconscious like I did before. The Fallen: what an appropriate name for you and Omega. At Aggression, I'll make it a reality.
(FADEOUT)
(FADEIN: With the TV title draped over his shoulder, LAYNE WINTERS stands outside his home in a suburb just outside Seattle, Washington. His hair is tied back, this time with no ball cap. On his t-shirt, letters read "New School IS HOPE")
WINTERS: So...let me get this straight. I'm supposed to believe Karl Brown's on the level with Layne Winters, leader of the New School, because...he LOST a f*cking World Title match?
You know, I'll be the first to admit, as I've done on many occasions, that Layne Winters is not a profound orator. When I speak, doves don't fly out across the sky, virgins don't weep, the heavens don't part, rainbows don't shine, and I sure as hell can't fill a stadium full of supporters chanting "YES WE CAN!" I didn't make it out of community college, Karl, so do me a favor and please lower your expectations. I'm not Jonathan f*cking Marx, running around telling people I'm a Princeton Grad, like it'll get you anywhere in the first f*cking place. Nah, I'm "plain Layne" as some have found fit to call me.
But when I speak, I do so with a very simple purpose: make people listen. What do you think, Karl? Think they'd listen to me if I was some washed up dildo calling himself the Dragon, making challenges he couldn't make good on, reminiscing about "the good old days" when he used to ALMOST beat people? No, Karl, they'd go deaf pretty f*cking quick.
You want people to listen, it's not enough to talk. You have to ACT. When you call out Fusenshoff, you better beat him, like I did- take his title and pride. When you call out the number one contender to the WORLD TITLE, you better deliver. I showed up, and The First couldn't beat me. Larry Tact, one half of the tag champs...he fell to me. Copycat, a former champion in his own right...a man who actually DID accomplish something once upon a time...he had his chance TWICE, lost to me in a match they can't stop talking about.
They didn't challenge me, Karl, I went to THEM. Maybe people didn't listen the first time I told 'em I'd break the entire locker room if need be. Then I went and did it. When this entire company was s*cking the Anthology dick, I was knocking it IN THE DIRT. The First, he can't STAND ME, but he wants to be champion, and knew he needed me in his corner if it was to happen.
And that was my first year...
Does that make me "the man"? Does it make number one? No, not yet. It makes me one thing: DANGEROUS, and that's all I need to be to get you to listen. Every word I say, every threat I make, it's a loaded chamber- it's the REAL THING, you better believe that.
I appreciate the fact that you lost a couple big matches five years ago or whatever the f*ck it was, but this is 2010. And in case you haven't noticed, EPW has jumped a few notches in terms of talent since the grand old days when you were getting your ass kicked in impressive fashion. If you wanna last in today's EPW, it's not good enough to simply be a shell of your former self, who wasn't even good enough to begin with. B*tching about my knuckle-dragging demeanor won't do you any favors, not unless you can back it up.
I wish I could communicate this to you on a higher level Karl, but I'm afraid I don't possess the wit or the grammatical tools. Then again, if you didn't want to deal with cretin bullies such as myself, maybe you should have thought twice about the whole PRO WRESTLING as a career thing.
Save me the battlefield metaphors, Churchill. I'm not a castle, I'm not a wall, life isn't a g*ddamn box of chocolates, and Layne Winters isn't for testing. Somebody told me I should come out here holding an hour glass, and say some sh*t about it being like my career and relate it to my quest for the World Title, but really, who the f*ck cares? We've all got a time limit on us, we don't live forever despite what certain 190 pound losers in facepaint will tell you, and SOMEBODY's gonna put us out of this business for good one day.
But I can tell you this, Karl. My time AIN'T UP. You're NOT the guy who's gonna end it. And this title right here...it's not the high water mark of a career that hit the ceiling too quick. Sound familiar? This is only the start, and the last chapter is far from written. Hey, look, a metaphor. I DID IT!
Phallus measuring content? Please...I'll put your f*cking EYE OUT.
As for you Erik, I am absolutely afraid...
...that I might actually kill you in the ring this time, as opposed to laying you out unconscious like I did before. The Fallen: what an appropriate name for you and Omega. At Aggression, I'll make it a reality.
(FADEOUT)
EpyonMarx
New member
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- Website
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Re: SOMEWHERE IN DEATH VALLEY...
[FADE IN. Night-time in a forest clearing. “The Dragon” is sitting with his back against a large rock, a large fire between him and the camera]
Karl: When they discover the centre of the universe, Layne Winters is going to be very disappointed to find out it’s not him. Not that he’s the biggest ego I’ve met in any walk of life, but I’d say he’s in the top ten.
It’s a shame that he truly believes what he says, and even a little pathetic that he thinks what he’s done in Empire Pro is in any way awe-inspiring.
So he’s won a title? Challenged the locker room? Made some noise? Won a few matches? Nothing impressive stands out so far. Or am I supposed to be impressed by a temper-tantrum at Aggression Fifty?
Layne, let’s get this straight. You aren’t anything special. You beat Fuse? Congratulations. Everybody loses once in a while and on that night you were obviously the better man. You beat Copycat? Wow! Someone who’s won titles elsewhere. I guess you’ve put me in my place. After all, I can only count: beating JA; beating Joey Melton; ending Marcus’ career for a time; beating Troy Douglas; beating Troy Windham and his hand-picked Entourage; being the second person Lindsay Troy couldn’t beat one-on-one in Empire Pro; beating Stephen Shane…
Understand yet, Layne? Your wins don’t impress me, any more than the list I’ve just given shouldn’t impress you. That I’ve beaten three of Empire Pro’s World Champions whilst on the Empire Pro roster doesn’t mean I’m the best or have a right to anything. I know that. And unlike you, not being seen as the top of the mountain doesn’t bother me. I’ll wrestle whoever, whenever, however. No fuss. No being a squeaky wheel, and no throwing my toys out of the pram if I lose a tag team match.
But you’re Layne Winters, aren’t you? Roster destroyer. Dangerous!
Am I supposed to be intimidated by that? Because I really don’t see it. I see the fire in your eyes and hear the attempted anger in some of your words, but…
[He stands and walks towards the flames, and for the first time we can see how he’s dressed. He’s wearing a denim jacket and is rolling one of the sleeves up. Beneath the jacket he’s wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt. We can see he’s wearing jeans, although there isn’t enough light to show the colour, and his belt-buckle is a piece of product placement for the Empire Pro Wrestling merchandise store – a winged dragon matching one on some of his ring gear. As he reaches the fire, he moves his arm slowly through the flames, not showing any sign of fear or pain. When he’s done, he moves back to the rock, leaning back against it]
Karl: You see, Layne, for all your talk, all your words, you’re still not even one tenth as good as you think you are. And that’s not me doing some deep-seated evaluation of you. It’s not me trying to get inside your head. It’s not me claiming I’m better than you.
It’s you, showing every time, that you don’t understand what separates the greats, the true champions, the real Alpha Male, from the rest of the pack.
It’s hard to describe. A true great. A grand champion… there’s an aura they have. When they switch it on, you start to doubt yourself. They display a calm knowledge of what they can do and that they can overcome anything. It’s the same in any competitive environment. Ask a sumo to describe a yokozuna, they’ll say the same thing. Ask someone what it’s like to face Dan Ryan or Joey Melton – they don’t need to say how great they are. Joey did occasionally but you could tell that was for show a lot of the time. No – they know how good they are, and they show it with a calm determination. Having stood in the ring with you, Layne, I know full well it’s a demeanour you don’t have. You don’t make people think, “there’s no way I can beat this guy!” the same way people’ve described facing Dan. When you entered the ring and attacked me, the energy I felt from you was… meh. At Aggression fifty one, when we’re in the ring, the energy I’ll feel from you will be just the same.
Meh.
That probably made no sense now I think on it, but like I said, facing a true great is a difficult feeling to describe. I just know that the feeling I get from Layne, Erik, Omega – heck, even Sean Stevens – is that they’re human, and beatable.
But you’ve got to hand it to Layne, he’s going to keep fortifying the wall around his little world until the last moment isn’t he?
Yes, Layne. The little world where you’re dangerous. Scary. A world champion in all but name and you’re going to go through everyone and everything until you take the title. A world where you’re going to make us bow down at your feet and respect you. Where you can sit in your throne and dispense justice as you see fit.
It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, and proven wrong before. People have said they were going to end me. That they were going to humiliate me. That they were going to march on up to the top of the hill and never leave.
Why’re you any different, Layne? Because you’re a do-er?
Right now, the difference, Layne, is that you haven’t been shown that reality in professional wrestling doesn’t go the way you want it, and that your Empire Pro career is more likely to end up just like theirs than how you’d like.
I don’t expect you to agree with what I say, Layne. You’ve got your opinion and you’re entitled to it. You’ve got your dreams and ambitions and you’re fighting to make them a reality, and to you I’m someone else in your way. But to me? You’re just another person like… dozens I’ve faced in wrestling and thousands I’ve met.
This isn’t the last chapter of your story. You’re right about that. You may, one day, become World Champion. I wish you luck – as I said before I think it’d be hilarious if the reigning TV champion challenged the World Champion and in effect unified the two belts. But this week, at Aggression, you’re not just facing someone called Karl “The Dragon” Brown. If you lose, you’re going to be grappling with the fact that your world, your image of yourself, isn’t absolute. If you lose, you’re going to have to battle your own ego. We’ve already seen you are fallible, that you make mistakes, and it’s been shown time and again it only takes one mistake to lose a match.
And, if you lose, and I’m the one heading to the dressing-room with the Television Title?
Well… you can console yourself with the fact you’ll have an open contract to try and enact your revenge.
Fusenhoff knocked any ring rust off me and I’m pretty much back where I was in two thousand seven. For me you’re a challenge that could push me beyond my limits. But – it’s just as likely you’re going to end up just as I see you.
Hype, that can’t live up to itself.
My ego doesn’t want you to be that. It wants you to be the challenge I need to push my limits. But if you’re not, at least I’ve got Erik and Omega to look forward to.
I won’t hold my breath.
[FADE OUT]
[FADE IN. Night-time in a forest clearing. “The Dragon” is sitting with his back against a large rock, a large fire between him and the camera]
Karl: When they discover the centre of the universe, Layne Winters is going to be very disappointed to find out it’s not him. Not that he’s the biggest ego I’ve met in any walk of life, but I’d say he’s in the top ten.
It’s a shame that he truly believes what he says, and even a little pathetic that he thinks what he’s done in Empire Pro is in any way awe-inspiring.
So he’s won a title? Challenged the locker room? Made some noise? Won a few matches? Nothing impressive stands out so far. Or am I supposed to be impressed by a temper-tantrum at Aggression Fifty?
Layne, let’s get this straight. You aren’t anything special. You beat Fuse? Congratulations. Everybody loses once in a while and on that night you were obviously the better man. You beat Copycat? Wow! Someone who’s won titles elsewhere. I guess you’ve put me in my place. After all, I can only count: beating JA; beating Joey Melton; ending Marcus’ career for a time; beating Troy Douglas; beating Troy Windham and his hand-picked Entourage; being the second person Lindsay Troy couldn’t beat one-on-one in Empire Pro; beating Stephen Shane…
Understand yet, Layne? Your wins don’t impress me, any more than the list I’ve just given shouldn’t impress you. That I’ve beaten three of Empire Pro’s World Champions whilst on the Empire Pro roster doesn’t mean I’m the best or have a right to anything. I know that. And unlike you, not being seen as the top of the mountain doesn’t bother me. I’ll wrestle whoever, whenever, however. No fuss. No being a squeaky wheel, and no throwing my toys out of the pram if I lose a tag team match.
But you’re Layne Winters, aren’t you? Roster destroyer. Dangerous!
Am I supposed to be intimidated by that? Because I really don’t see it. I see the fire in your eyes and hear the attempted anger in some of your words, but…
[He stands and walks towards the flames, and for the first time we can see how he’s dressed. He’s wearing a denim jacket and is rolling one of the sleeves up. Beneath the jacket he’s wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt. We can see he’s wearing jeans, although there isn’t enough light to show the colour, and his belt-buckle is a piece of product placement for the Empire Pro Wrestling merchandise store – a winged dragon matching one on some of his ring gear. As he reaches the fire, he moves his arm slowly through the flames, not showing any sign of fear or pain. When he’s done, he moves back to the rock, leaning back against it]
Karl: You see, Layne, for all your talk, all your words, you’re still not even one tenth as good as you think you are. And that’s not me doing some deep-seated evaluation of you. It’s not me trying to get inside your head. It’s not me claiming I’m better than you.
It’s you, showing every time, that you don’t understand what separates the greats, the true champions, the real Alpha Male, from the rest of the pack.
It’s hard to describe. A true great. A grand champion… there’s an aura they have. When they switch it on, you start to doubt yourself. They display a calm knowledge of what they can do and that they can overcome anything. It’s the same in any competitive environment. Ask a sumo to describe a yokozuna, they’ll say the same thing. Ask someone what it’s like to face Dan Ryan or Joey Melton – they don’t need to say how great they are. Joey did occasionally but you could tell that was for show a lot of the time. No – they know how good they are, and they show it with a calm determination. Having stood in the ring with you, Layne, I know full well it’s a demeanour you don’t have. You don’t make people think, “there’s no way I can beat this guy!” the same way people’ve described facing Dan. When you entered the ring and attacked me, the energy I felt from you was… meh. At Aggression fifty one, when we’re in the ring, the energy I’ll feel from you will be just the same.
Meh.
That probably made no sense now I think on it, but like I said, facing a true great is a difficult feeling to describe. I just know that the feeling I get from Layne, Erik, Omega – heck, even Sean Stevens – is that they’re human, and beatable.
But you’ve got to hand it to Layne, he’s going to keep fortifying the wall around his little world until the last moment isn’t he?
Yes, Layne. The little world where you’re dangerous. Scary. A world champion in all but name and you’re going to go through everyone and everything until you take the title. A world where you’re going to make us bow down at your feet and respect you. Where you can sit in your throne and dispense justice as you see fit.
It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, and proven wrong before. People have said they were going to end me. That they were going to humiliate me. That they were going to march on up to the top of the hill and never leave.
Why’re you any different, Layne? Because you’re a do-er?
Right now, the difference, Layne, is that you haven’t been shown that reality in professional wrestling doesn’t go the way you want it, and that your Empire Pro career is more likely to end up just like theirs than how you’d like.
I don’t expect you to agree with what I say, Layne. You’ve got your opinion and you’re entitled to it. You’ve got your dreams and ambitions and you’re fighting to make them a reality, and to you I’m someone else in your way. But to me? You’re just another person like… dozens I’ve faced in wrestling and thousands I’ve met.
This isn’t the last chapter of your story. You’re right about that. You may, one day, become World Champion. I wish you luck – as I said before I think it’d be hilarious if the reigning TV champion challenged the World Champion and in effect unified the two belts. But this week, at Aggression, you’re not just facing someone called Karl “The Dragon” Brown. If you lose, you’re going to be grappling with the fact that your world, your image of yourself, isn’t absolute. If you lose, you’re going to have to battle your own ego. We’ve already seen you are fallible, that you make mistakes, and it’s been shown time and again it only takes one mistake to lose a match.
And, if you lose, and I’m the one heading to the dressing-room with the Television Title?
Well… you can console yourself with the fact you’ll have an open contract to try and enact your revenge.
Fusenhoff knocked any ring rust off me and I’m pretty much back where I was in two thousand seven. For me you’re a challenge that could push me beyond my limits. But – it’s just as likely you’re going to end up just as I see you.
Hype, that can’t live up to itself.
My ego doesn’t want you to be that. It wants you to be the challenge I need to push my limits. But if you’re not, at least I’ve got Erik and Omega to look forward to.
I won’t hold my breath.
[FADE OUT]
LQJT86C
Where's my money, Chad?
Re: SOMEWHERE IN DEATH VALLEY...
(FADEIN: Empty arena, empty ring. In front of it, EPW announcer DAVE THOMAS stands with a microphone in his hands next to 'THE DREAMSTEALER' LAYNE WINTERS. The EPW Television title hangs on his shoulder, golden hair is tied back like always, and his hands rest on his hips. He looks uncomfortable, perturbed even, but is this anything new? Tucked inside his jeans is a gray t-shirt with red letters reading 'DREAMSTEALER, PAINDEALER, and at coming soon...DRAGONSLAYER'.)
THOMAS: Dave Thomas here for Empire Pro Wrestling, and standing next to me is a man who rose through the EPW ranks rather quickly, but whose methods have earned the ire of the locker room. They call you brutal, barbaric even (Winters nods his head). But some have accused you of SELF-HYPE, and of course I'm talking about your potential opponent at Aggression 51 next week, Karl 'The Dragon' Brown.
WINTERS: No, no "potential," he'll get his shot like the other two, and he'll lose like the other two. Every week, without fail, they accuse me of INTIMIDATION, BULLYING, OVERCOMPENSATING, and it doesn't matter who I face, 'cause they all do it. Tact, Black, Fusenshoff, First, Brown...and you know something, Dave? They couldn't be more wrong. See, I don't believe you can intimidate anybody in this organization. Nobody's afraid of taking an ass-beating around here; win or lose, it ALL hurts, and I think my body is a testament to that.
And when I went out there, after steamrolling a select handful behind the curtains, and I beat the hell out of Karl Brown, I never expected him to book the first flight back England. I wouldn't have IMMEDIATELY asked for a gauntlet match. I KNEW he'd come looking for me.
That's the way it goes for me; nobody's chasing me or knocking on MY DOOR, I have to find them. I don't have the movie star looks, or the bodybuilder physique, or the marketing machine backing me. I don't have the trendy catch-phrase. I can't walk up to the mic and say "Jiggy" and have the entire room jump out of their pants to kiss my feet and pronounce me a "Phenom."
And unfortunately, I don't have the spooky magic voodoo aura or whatever the f*ck kinda force field of blue energy Karl Brown thinks Dan Ryan has surrounding him. Mystique is a funny thing, Dave, funny 'cause it's a f*cking farce conveniently created by multiple-time losers like Karl Brown, so they can justify not winning when sh*t's on the line and it counts.
THOMAS: Now wait just a minute Layne, Karl Brown held the Intercontinental belt for TWO YEARS, and holds wins over legends such as Troy Windham and Joey Melton.
WINTERS: What, you think you "got" me there, Dave? You think I'm gonna take back the things I said, apologize? Tell you what- Karl Brown can walk his ass out here right now, find the nearest exist, hang a left at the waterfountain, go through the second door on the right, third stall, lift up the seat, and he can find the apology I left him (THOMAS: "Aww man! Come on!) about twenty minutes ago still floating in the water, cause I didn't flush! I'm not trying to go "legend for legend" with the man, or "all-star for all-star." Unfortunately I wasn't here back in the day when every 'Ghost of CSWA Champions Past' came to EPW for a cup of coffee and a paycheck, or else I might've gotten my "Pass Go/Collect $200 dollars and beat Troy Windham" card too, like the rest of you Bobo The Clowns who promptly pasted it on your resume like a 1st grade spelling test on your parents' refrigerator.
When I tell you what I've done in my short, short rookie year in EPW, it's not to impress you with the name of Larry Tact, or Fusenshoff, or The First. It's to drive home a point: that I've clearly laid out my agenda here in EPW, clearly defined the terms, and to this point...I have CLEARLY delivered, on ALL levels, Karl. It's not about beating this guy on this night, or that guy on that night, or beating some legend on an off-night to make up for some three match losing streak. It's about climbing the ladder, and not only that, but preventing those below you from making a pass. And that's really the pivotal difference between us, my friend. I'm not here for the glory, or the honor, but to accomplish something.
Maybe just being here is good enough for you, like sitting back and masturbating over some superior athlete's "aura," but in my world that just don't CUT IT. Not only do I win, but I win when it counts, I win when I have to, I win when I told the world twice over it was gonna happen because there wasn't any other way. And at Aggression 51...it's gonna happen AGAIN.
THOMAS: But isn't it fair to say Karl Brown presents a SIGNIFICANT challenge to you, Layne?
WINTERS: I never said Karl Brown couldn't wrestle; obviously he can...HE'S HERE. But there's a difference between being able to wrestle...and walking into a gauntlet match and taking the TV Title off Layne Winters. Not only would he get my title, but he'd effectively stop my run at the BIG BELT dead in it's tracks, and that's just not going to happen...not in a million f*cking years, Dave.
THOMAS: You say that now, and I believe you mean it, but some think you're over-confident and prone to find some egg on your face. What happens if he BEATS YOU?
WINTERS: He doesn't. There's no such thing. It's not only Karl, but a lot of guys marvel at my absolutist mentality, and they love to try and draw me into admitting that either one of us can lose. And they say, "But Layne, I'm admitting you could beat me, why can't you admit the same?" BECAUSE THAT'S NOT HOW F*CKING WINNERS THINK! AND THAT'S EXACTLY WHY I DID WHAT I DID TO YOU, KARL!
THOMAS: WHY ARE WE YELLING?
(Winters immediately grabs the mic from Thomas and shoves him down out of sight of the camera)
WINTERS: Talk to me like that one more time, Thomas, I care F*CK ALL about hurting you! This interview's over, DONE. I'm just gonna talk on, like I should've been doing from the start! Karl Brown and his "respect for the competition" have NO PLACE getting booked ahead of me on any card, I don't care if it's ONSLAUGHT: LIVE FROM BUMBLEF*CK INDONESIA! Sh*t, I wouldn't let you stand in front of me on line at Super Wal Mart! Aggression is MY RING, MY TIME- a place where legends get KILLED and dreams get stolen.
My vision is clear, my focus is impenetrable, so is my will...and I don't who you are, what you've done, it won't help you when you f*ck with my place in this company.
I WILL be EPW World Champion, that's a promise. Karl Brown stopping me...the result is not even in question. What is in question, the ONLY wildcard in my career right now, is this body which I've pushed to the limit and back. My shoulders are so bad, Karl, doctors told me to take a full year off. F*CK THAT. I took a year off before coming to EPW, I damn sure ain't taking another and starting over. I have ONE CHANCE to do this; I have to make it QUICK, and I have to make it COUNT.
I've said this to other guys, and I'll say it to you: as far as I'm concerned, your name is SEAN STEVENS, EPW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION. Because losing to him or you means the same thing for my career: it's DONE. Don't walk around here counting on second chances, third chances, no...there ain't no rebirth in this sport, at least none you can count on.
They didn't groom me in the developmental leagues like most of you guys, like The First...f*cking 19 years old without a lick of experience and they've got him being taught the ropes by retired vets in some beautiful ass vacation resort. And I've gotta make him champ to get my immediate shot...imagine that? No, I took the way that hurts; maybe you did too, I don't know you beyond the pros. But if my body and health can't be absolute, then my destiny WILL be. My sacrifices get paid off when I reach the top, and unfortunately for you...it's too urgent an issue for me to sit here respecting and honoring what a great athlete you are. F*CK-THAT.
I give you ONE THING- an opportunity for revenge. (Turns to the ring, turns back) Here it is Karl, waiting for you. Come try for my belt, come shut me up. Give the ladder a climb.
Walk in here...and find out why I'm the f*cking dream killer.
(FADEOUT)
(FADEIN: Empty arena, empty ring. In front of it, EPW announcer DAVE THOMAS stands with a microphone in his hands next to 'THE DREAMSTEALER' LAYNE WINTERS. The EPW Television title hangs on his shoulder, golden hair is tied back like always, and his hands rest on his hips. He looks uncomfortable, perturbed even, but is this anything new? Tucked inside his jeans is a gray t-shirt with red letters reading 'DREAMSTEALER, PAINDEALER, and at coming soon...DRAGONSLAYER'.)
THOMAS: Dave Thomas here for Empire Pro Wrestling, and standing next to me is a man who rose through the EPW ranks rather quickly, but whose methods have earned the ire of the locker room. They call you brutal, barbaric even (Winters nods his head). But some have accused you of SELF-HYPE, and of course I'm talking about your potential opponent at Aggression 51 next week, Karl 'The Dragon' Brown.
WINTERS: No, no "potential," he'll get his shot like the other two, and he'll lose like the other two. Every week, without fail, they accuse me of INTIMIDATION, BULLYING, OVERCOMPENSATING, and it doesn't matter who I face, 'cause they all do it. Tact, Black, Fusenshoff, First, Brown...and you know something, Dave? They couldn't be more wrong. See, I don't believe you can intimidate anybody in this organization. Nobody's afraid of taking an ass-beating around here; win or lose, it ALL hurts, and I think my body is a testament to that.
And when I went out there, after steamrolling a select handful behind the curtains, and I beat the hell out of Karl Brown, I never expected him to book the first flight back England. I wouldn't have IMMEDIATELY asked for a gauntlet match. I KNEW he'd come looking for me.
That's the way it goes for me; nobody's chasing me or knocking on MY DOOR, I have to find them. I don't have the movie star looks, or the bodybuilder physique, or the marketing machine backing me. I don't have the trendy catch-phrase. I can't walk up to the mic and say "Jiggy" and have the entire room jump out of their pants to kiss my feet and pronounce me a "Phenom."
And unfortunately, I don't have the spooky magic voodoo aura or whatever the f*ck kinda force field of blue energy Karl Brown thinks Dan Ryan has surrounding him. Mystique is a funny thing, Dave, funny 'cause it's a f*cking farce conveniently created by multiple-time losers like Karl Brown, so they can justify not winning when sh*t's on the line and it counts.
THOMAS: Now wait just a minute Layne, Karl Brown held the Intercontinental belt for TWO YEARS, and holds wins over legends such as Troy Windham and Joey Melton.
WINTERS: What, you think you "got" me there, Dave? You think I'm gonna take back the things I said, apologize? Tell you what- Karl Brown can walk his ass out here right now, find the nearest exist, hang a left at the waterfountain, go through the second door on the right, third stall, lift up the seat, and he can find the apology I left him (THOMAS: "Aww man! Come on!) about twenty minutes ago still floating in the water, cause I didn't flush! I'm not trying to go "legend for legend" with the man, or "all-star for all-star." Unfortunately I wasn't here back in the day when every 'Ghost of CSWA Champions Past' came to EPW for a cup of coffee and a paycheck, or else I might've gotten my "Pass Go/Collect $200 dollars and beat Troy Windham" card too, like the rest of you Bobo The Clowns who promptly pasted it on your resume like a 1st grade spelling test on your parents' refrigerator.
When I tell you what I've done in my short, short rookie year in EPW, it's not to impress you with the name of Larry Tact, or Fusenshoff, or The First. It's to drive home a point: that I've clearly laid out my agenda here in EPW, clearly defined the terms, and to this point...I have CLEARLY delivered, on ALL levels, Karl. It's not about beating this guy on this night, or that guy on that night, or beating some legend on an off-night to make up for some three match losing streak. It's about climbing the ladder, and not only that, but preventing those below you from making a pass. And that's really the pivotal difference between us, my friend. I'm not here for the glory, or the honor, but to accomplish something.
Maybe just being here is good enough for you, like sitting back and masturbating over some superior athlete's "aura," but in my world that just don't CUT IT. Not only do I win, but I win when it counts, I win when I have to, I win when I told the world twice over it was gonna happen because there wasn't any other way. And at Aggression 51...it's gonna happen AGAIN.
THOMAS: But isn't it fair to say Karl Brown presents a SIGNIFICANT challenge to you, Layne?
WINTERS: I never said Karl Brown couldn't wrestle; obviously he can...HE'S HERE. But there's a difference between being able to wrestle...and walking into a gauntlet match and taking the TV Title off Layne Winters. Not only would he get my title, but he'd effectively stop my run at the BIG BELT dead in it's tracks, and that's just not going to happen...not in a million f*cking years, Dave.
THOMAS: You say that now, and I believe you mean it, but some think you're over-confident and prone to find some egg on your face. What happens if he BEATS YOU?
WINTERS: He doesn't. There's no such thing. It's not only Karl, but a lot of guys marvel at my absolutist mentality, and they love to try and draw me into admitting that either one of us can lose. And they say, "But Layne, I'm admitting you could beat me, why can't you admit the same?" BECAUSE THAT'S NOT HOW F*CKING WINNERS THINK! AND THAT'S EXACTLY WHY I DID WHAT I DID TO YOU, KARL!
THOMAS: WHY ARE WE YELLING?
(Winters immediately grabs the mic from Thomas and shoves him down out of sight of the camera)
WINTERS: Talk to me like that one more time, Thomas, I care F*CK ALL about hurting you! This interview's over, DONE. I'm just gonna talk on, like I should've been doing from the start! Karl Brown and his "respect for the competition" have NO PLACE getting booked ahead of me on any card, I don't care if it's ONSLAUGHT: LIVE FROM BUMBLEF*CK INDONESIA! Sh*t, I wouldn't let you stand in front of me on line at Super Wal Mart! Aggression is MY RING, MY TIME- a place where legends get KILLED and dreams get stolen.
My vision is clear, my focus is impenetrable, so is my will...and I don't who you are, what you've done, it won't help you when you f*ck with my place in this company.
I WILL be EPW World Champion, that's a promise. Karl Brown stopping me...the result is not even in question. What is in question, the ONLY wildcard in my career right now, is this body which I've pushed to the limit and back. My shoulders are so bad, Karl, doctors told me to take a full year off. F*CK THAT. I took a year off before coming to EPW, I damn sure ain't taking another and starting over. I have ONE CHANCE to do this; I have to make it QUICK, and I have to make it COUNT.
I've said this to other guys, and I'll say it to you: as far as I'm concerned, your name is SEAN STEVENS, EPW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION. Because losing to him or you means the same thing for my career: it's DONE. Don't walk around here counting on second chances, third chances, no...there ain't no rebirth in this sport, at least none you can count on.
They didn't groom me in the developmental leagues like most of you guys, like The First...f*cking 19 years old without a lick of experience and they've got him being taught the ropes by retired vets in some beautiful ass vacation resort. And I've gotta make him champ to get my immediate shot...imagine that? No, I took the way that hurts; maybe you did too, I don't know you beyond the pros. But if my body and health can't be absolute, then my destiny WILL be. My sacrifices get paid off when I reach the top, and unfortunately for you...it's too urgent an issue for me to sit here respecting and honoring what a great athlete you are. F*CK-THAT.
I give you ONE THING- an opportunity for revenge. (Turns to the ring, turns back) Here it is Karl, waiting for you. Come try for my belt, come shut me up. Give the ladder a climb.
Walk in here...and find out why I'm the f*cking dream killer.
(FADEOUT)
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