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AGGRESSION 58: WORLD TITLE: Anarky (c) vs. Michael Bastard (c)

JLevinson

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(FADEIN to a hotel in Miami Beach, Florida. Standing on a balcony in a No. 15 Kemba Walker UConn jersey is none other than Anarky, drinking a beer and gazing out into the sun. He's got a surprising smile on his lips.)

ANARKY: "At the risk of defying my curmudgeonly personality, I must say... what a week it has been. Another UConn national championship. I got to beat the living snot out of Stalker for f*cking with me. Hell, I even got to watch Copycat's dismay as I took the undeserved pieces of Karl Brown and emerged victorious.

"Of course... like the UConn team, I know it wasn't pretty... and the won't be selling DVD's of that one in the EPW Classics bin anytime soon... but a win's a win, right?

"I could come out here and brag about how great I am.. how it's been another week and I am the gold standard by which all excellence should be judged. But honestly, didn't we get enough of that with Stevens and First? Did I not promise you something better?

"So now the truth comes to fruition... there is no resting on the laurels. No undeserved vacations. No hip after-parties full of cocaine-binging porn stars and bad Charlie Sheen jokes.

"I have not yet begun to earn this title. But I will. And it starts with you, Michael Bastard.

"You wanna get vicious. You wanna create mayhem and destruction. Well you've come to the right place, my friend. My entire body is an homage to wanton violence. Every scar is a symphony of carnage. Every aching bone another reminder of the path I've walked.

"And every match is another reminder... that it isn't the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog. You're big and strong and angry. And you still got a lot to prove.

"I had to wait a long f*cking time for a shot at the EPW World Heavyweight Title, Michael and Logan. I had to sit idly by and watch First squander opportunity after opportunity... as I was robbed off my chances by people like Marcus Westcott and Ice Tre.

"But I'm not going to hate you for this chance, Bastard. I won't proclaim you unworthy. Quite the opposite.

"I relish this chance to prove MYSELF. This first chance among a million more to lay my claim to EPW's legacy. To weave myself in the fabric.

"I'm not going to promise victory, gentlemen. I'm not going to proclaim myself the greatest ever, or even the greatest wrestler in EPW right now.

"But I will promise one thing.

"At Aggression 58, you will know that I did not just stumble into this... I sweat and I bled for every chance to get this far... and you are going to have to pry it from my broken hands if you want it.

"When the match goes on... when the adrenaline begins to fade... and when the fans are screaming at you to just give up... and every bone in your body just screams for rest and mercy... and you just need to keep going... and you look up and you see me smiling through my blood-soaked facepaint...

"... then you will belong. Then you will know about Empire Pro Wrestling.

"There's no other place like it. I promise."

(FADEOUT.)
 

TH

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The scene is an abandoned warehouse, like every week. The Amazing Logan stands in the foreground , leaning on his cane, staring into the camera. Michael Bastard sits in the background, staring down into his Intercontinental Championship

TAL: So Anarky, you had to wait for your shot, Anarky? You had to wait for years and watch others squander shots, Anarky? That's quite the sob story. I'm so moved. I'm guessing there's a tone of resentment in your voice. Like you don't want Michael to get better opportunities than you did.

Logan takes one hand off the cane and rubs his thumb and forefinger together.

TAL: Allow me to play the world's smallest violin. I'm sorry that Michael has cut a swath of destruction the likes no one has ever seen in this company enough that Mr. Ryan and his employees had no choice but to give him a shot at the top gold so soon into his tenure. You see, when you come into a company, you don't wait for people to give you opportunities, you take them. It's not my concern that you couldn't take care of Westcott and a pithy jobber in Ice Tre by yourself. It's not my fault your sluggishness held you back. It's not Michael's fault that you waited until someone was sorry enough to give you a slot in King of the Cage so you could finally turn on the jets and get hot at the right time. No, Michael took everything into his own hands. He faltered last week, but he died a warrior's death. This week, he will rise to his occasion.

Now, the platitudes you've shared, I appreciate them. You see, it's refreshing to see a lack of bravado. However, do you know what you're getting yourself into by inviting Michael into what amounts to be the Thunderdome? I know you've prided your career on savagery and brutality, but do you know what you're getting yourself into? You see, you naively think that this is an introduction for Michael into The Empire, but have you not been listening? I don't want to be introduced to the old Empire. I've come with Michael so that he may CHANGE this Empire. The gore and the destruction you promise will look like a paper cut as to what Michael is looking to bring. That destruction has already netted him one piece of prestigious gold. The Intercontinental Championship is a prized jewel, as you can see. He cherishes it. He loves it more than he loves life itself. What do you think he'll do once he has your title?

That hunger to bring change and gain the prizes to show that his vision is for real is almost insatiable. It won't stop until this entire promotion is recrafted in his image and likeness. That terraforming started with the Intercontinental Championship. It'll continue with your World Championship. You claim to respect Michael, but once you look into his steely gaze, you'll learn to fear him. Aggression 58, he takes your title. It's all falling into place.

Bastard laughs maniacally as he lifts his cane up and whacks the camera. The screen turns to static.
 

JLevinson

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(FADEIN to the Orange Bowl in Miami, Florida. Empty. The camera pans to the stands, and up in the nosebleeds sits Anarky, drinking a Dogfishhead 90 Minute IPA. He takes a long swig and seems to savor the flavor before he gazes down at the field, a smile on his face.)

ANARKY: “Every year… the best and the brightest come down here and play smashmouth football in front of thousands in attendance and millions at home. They seek glory and fame. A shot at the NFL. Maybe a BCS Championship.

“Y’know what they all got in common, though? Like most athletes… they think they’re God’s Gift to the very sport they serve. They changed the way the game is played. They were a whole new breed of athlete. Every last one of them, a revolutionary… a monster.

“Remind you of anybody you know, Logan?

“Cause let’s face it… I can’t even pretend I haven’t heard this song and dance before. I’m too f*cking old and too f*cking tired to waste my time goin’ through the motions for you or anybody else.

“I’ve been thrown off the top of a cage by Maelstrom. I’ve been left unconscious in a Devastator by Mike Randalls. I’ve been suckered by Doc Silver and Lex Taylor. I was beaten senseless in a UFC match by Joe Massacre. I was dropped through three tables by Ares.

“Am I telling you this to impress you, Logan and Bastard? Is this some way to prove how invincible and unbeatable I am?

“No.

“But y’know what, boys? I’m still f*cking here. Remember Ice Tre costing me a shot at the title? Where the f*ck is he now? Remember Layne Winters, sayin’ he was gonna be the Legend Killer? Yeah, how’s that working out? Remember the First, the people’s champ? Yeah, that lasted. Or Marcus Westcott? Or Sean Stevens? Huh, where the F*CK ARE THEY NOW?

“But I’m still here. I’m still standing.

“So excuse me for not backing the f*ck down because your brand of violence and destruction is all new and improved. You’ll have to forgive me for not being impressed by the so-called swath of destruction which involved apparently beating a Shawn Hart so f*cking disinterested in the Intercontinental Title that he barely remembered to show up.

“Go ahead and play your tiny violin… which is totally hilarious, by the way…

“I wasn’t whining. I wasn’t complaining. I don’t give a f*ck.

“See, I’m GLAD I waited. I’m glad I stood by and watched First and Westcott and everybody else come up short against Stevens. I laughed myself silly.

“That’s what you don’t get. I don’t NEED to take an opportunity. I didn’t even ask for one. I never cared. I didn’t get this belt because I asked for a shot, or because I thought I deserved it.

“I just went out there, night after night, and I busted my f*cking ass. I didn’t pretend to be a Legend Killer or the Greatest Ever or any of that other sh*t. I get down to f*cking business. I walked into the King of the Cage a man... and night after night, I was still standing.

“And when there was nobody else left… there was only First and I.

“And now there’s only me.

“You’re just like the rest, Logan. You think your boy is gonna change how the game is played. You think I don’t hear enough of this sh*t from Copycat? How we’re all gonna be saved by your greatness? Or how you’re building a whole new Empire?

“Say hello to the new boss, same as the old boss, gentlemen…

“Game doesn’t change. Men make empty promises. Men threaten to change the sport itself. Men talk.

“But I’m still here, boys. And you’re just like those kids who play in the Orange Bowl. You’re so certain of your destiny… so assured of your perfection… you can’t step back and see the forests for the trees.

“I didn’t change this sport. I don’t pretend to be its standard bearer. I won’t even claim to be the greatest Champion in the last year, much less ever.

“But if you think Empire needs to change… if you think for one second that we can’t go right on without you and your brand of violence and destruction… if you really think for one moment that you’re bigger than EPW, bigger than this sport.

“Well. I’ll be more than happy to do what I do best… remind you of your humanity.

“You are just a man, and a man can lose, as much as any other. Come, boys… there is nothing sweeter than the smell of someone’s frail ego being crushed on live television.

“Don’t worry about lil’ ol’ me, fellas.

“I’ll still be here.”

(FADEOUT.)
 

TH

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The scene is an older Ford truck, a camera mounted on the dashboard. Driving said truck is The Amazing Logan, eyes on the road.

TAL: A very long night of training last night. We're finally on the road to Aggression, here on I-75 south. Michael's in the back seat sleeping. I had to push him very hard, because this could very well be the turning point in the history of The Empire. He sent four men to the hospital last night. Four men, just in training. Granted, they were "local talents", but still, it just goes to show how Michael really has one gear, and when he's getting in the destructive spirit, to get in his way, unless you're me, of course, would be a fool's errand. I think he's finally ready to collect the next prize in his path to becoming the man who changes everything.

But again, in his way is you, Anarky. Yes, I saw your latest promotional video, and I have to say, I'm disappointed. The same, tired career achievement dick-measuring spiel, dropping names like they were eggs in an epileptic at a discotheque carrying an Easter basket. I thought after the first promo that you might have been different, that you might have been worthy of a spot in Michael Bastard's post-apocalyptic vision of professional wrestling, the New Empire. I was wrong, as you were too busy trying to impress me by reciting time spent in the Devastator, like it matters in 2011 the same it mattered in 2001. Times have changed.

It's not like I mean disrespect to Randalls at all. No, not in the least. He is one of the major influences on Michael's in-ring style. A master of devastation, a progenitor of the apocalypse if you will. However, there's a difference between learning from his example and clinging to it like it's a security blanket in the arms of a pathetic character from a comic of days long passed. The fact that you so readily bring up the attrition you suffered at the hands of people five and ten years ago as a reason why you're so easily the favorite against Michael proves to me that you are not ready to handle Michael. You see, Ares dropping you through a table may have been impressive in the past, surviving it may be a test of your mettle, but how will that prepare you for getting dropped through a table after taking a Bastard Driver to the concrete, having your ribs dropped across the guardrail and your body violently whipped into the steel ring steps, all within quick succession of each other? The answer is, it won't.

You see, you deny everything set in front of you because, "that's the way it is", right? You deny that Michael could change the business because you yourself, a man of ultraviolence and hardcore intensity, couldn't change it. Hell, you didn't even want to change it, and that's fine with you. Well, that's the same sort of thinking that got the Tsars blasted into extinction and the Spanish rousted out of South America. Of course you don't see it, because you're just like everyone else. Content to play the same dick measuring games, gang warfare for the sake of gang warfare and politicking in place of wrestling. The same lying facade that allowed you to sit here and tell me to my face that your words belied your intentions, that you really aren't bothered by the fact that you waited longer for your first shot than Michael waited for his.

Then again, I'm a hardened veteran. I've seen it all, and really, it doesn't bother me as much. Your lies don't concern me. The fact that you were not strong enough to change the business, nor were you ambitious enough to want to change it. All that I'm worried about is that Michael is both of those things. That's why he'll succeed. That's why he'll add another trophy to his collection. He doesn't stop where other men would in the name of decency. He goes until the job is finished, and in his mind, the job isn't finished until the man he's done feasting upon is motionless in the middle of the ring.

With you, yes, it will be a tall order. I know when to give my propers, Anarky, and you do deserve them for being the class of the brutal sect in an older, anachronistic time. Despite your obvious character flaws and sheep nature, there's a reason you've gotten to where you've gotten. However, what you lack is a foresight to accept the coming change and truly embrace the animalistic nature of your soul. You're limited in ways Michael isn't. Well, that and you definitely let loose some strategic points of attack that I might have forgotten to highlight for Michael in preparation. I must say, old Devastator war wounds never heal correctly. It all comes back to Randalls. Maybe you have a point.

Regardless, Anarky, your bravado and reliance on past successes to somehow will you through a war with Michael will be your downfall. The future has arrived far more quickly than I ever could have anticipated. As Michael rests with his arms clutching his current prize, he dreams of an even grander one to pair with that Intercontinental Championship. Nothing will stop him from his stated goal, nothing short of death.

That begs the question, will the ghost of Maelstrom and your undying devotion to this conservative view of how the wrestling world should be be enough to put Michael down? The truth is very cloudy, but I tend to think your claim that you'll still be here when the smoke clears is one that will be put in serious jeopardy.

Logan takes one hand off the steering wheel and taps a button, sending the screen to black.
 

JLevinson

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Messages
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(FADEIN to a shot of the EPW World Heavyweight Title, glistening in the light. The camera pulls back slowly, and we see none other than Anarky, a Unibroue La Fin De Mon in his hand, half-empty, studying the belt from a recliner. He takes a swig of the beer and speaks.)

ANARKY: “I’ve been thinkin’ a lot lately about the EPW World Title. Thinkin’ about what it means… its place in history. What defines it.

“Everyone covets it. It is what defines our success and glory in our careers. The listing of titles. The proof of our validation. The knowledge that we are greater than those around us. The belt proves it, we imagine. We hold it up as evidence of our greatness.

“Like any other status symbol. Maybe you drive a BMW 7-series to show how much money you have. Maybe you marry a 22-year-old goddess to prove how virile and powerful you are. Maybe you drive a Prius to show how environmentally conscious you are.

“Yet we are not simply the culmination of our possessions… we are something more.

“I am not just the EPW World Heavyweight Champion, Michael Bastard. I am not just the 2010 King of the Cage. I’m not just the man who outlasted so many to get here.

“You think I’m telling you this to impress you. To prove how great I am. To convince you, or even myself, that I am, in fact, the very best. These accomplishments of mine… what other purpose could they serve, right?

“And I know why you think that. Because at the end of the day, you’re like so many others. You only hear what you want to hear. You only see what you want to see.

“I wasn’t trying to convince you that surviving Mike Randalls proved I was a great wrestler. Sh*t, the only reason I even won that match is because the Wolf wouldn’t release the Devastator even after I’d already lost consciousness. Not exactly my crowning achievement as a wrestler.

“And hell, I never actually got revenge on Doc Silver – he basically made me his b*tch and I just sat there and took it.

“The point is… that even after all this… even after the humiliating defeats, the highs and lows… I’m still here, lacing up these boots.

“So excuse me for not cowering in fear at your threats that I’m somehow going to be broken in half by this f*cking unstoppable monster before me. Maybe you win, maybe you lose. But if you think for one f*cking second that I am afraid that this is the end for me – that you’re somehow going to put me down forever… well, I can’t help but laugh, gentlemen.

“Seems I can’t go five f*cking minutes without somebody tellin’ me how they’re gonna revolutionize the business. How everything’s gonna change once they get the belt around their waist. The sky will open and the rains will fall and we’ll all be saved by… what?

“Copycat can’t stop telling me about how things have to be destroyed and recreated in his vision. Impulse goes on and on about how he’s going to kick it old school and change the way we look at athletes. And now I gotta sit here and listen to you tell me that I’m a coward cause I’m not stupid enough to think the world revolves around me.

“But then again, you haven’t heard a f*cking word I’ve said, I don’t expect you to start now. Did I ever claim to be the favorite against Michael? Heck, did I even claim once that I would win? The only person here claiming to have a big f*cking d*ck and wrecking havoc here is you.

“I’m a survivor. That’s all I’ve ever been and all I’ll ever be. Win or lose at Aggression, I’ll still be here. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.

“I try to point this out by noting the previous motherf*ckers who have claimed they’d put an end to me, and you claim I’m name-dropping career achievements. I talk about still bein’ here, and you think I’m overconfident. You think simply because I accept wrestling doesn’t NEED ME that I somehow couldn’t change it.

“This sport can go on just fine without you, just like it can go on just fine without me, brother. It doesn’t need us. We are simply harbingers of its various forms.

“Some of us are violent. Some of us are technical. Some of us think it’s our destiny to hold the gold. Some of us just want to prove we belong. Some of us want the fans to adore us. Some of us just want to break a man in two and change the entire landscape of professional wrestling forever.

“I don’t want to dismiss your goal, Michael. Nor do I want to anger your fast-talkin’ manager. After all, nothing short of death is going to stop you, and let’s face it… I can’t really murder you on live television.

“So I guess I might as well just lie down, then. I may as well just hand over the title and accept our new overlords, the Amazing Logan and Michael Bastard. I am not capable of winning… I am just a relic of the past… a useless sh*t who couldn’t even change the wrestling business.

“After all, if I show up, I’m probably just going to take a Bastard Drive on the concrete and end up hooked up on life support, remembering the days when I used to matter. Oh, woe is me… our new champion is without mercy.

“But y’know what, guys. I’m gonna show up anyway. And heck, I thought maybe we’d even make a fight out of it. Give it a whirl, y’know? See how it goes.

“Cause if there’s one thing I know… it’s that when push comes to shove… when the talk is gone, and bell rings, and the time comes…

“One of us is ready for anything. Victory or defeat. Glory or shame. Revolution or stagnation.

“Given the choice between the man ready to accept any possibility, no matter how dangerous… and the man so certain of his own path and destiny…

“I can’t say if it’ll be enough for you, Michael. I don’t know if you’ll be impressed. Or if it fits into your plans of world domination. But for me…

“But when tomorrow comes, whether I have the Title or not… I know who I am.

“But you... your entire identity is tied to this. You have to win. You are the unstoppable monster... the machine of mayhem and destruction. So if you can't win... if you come up just one second short... one slipped step, one missed clothesline... one accidental move...

"... you might want to start practicing your excuses now. Just in case.

"You never know."

(FADEOUT.)
 

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