CuseTroy
League Member
Match to be held at Memorial Gym in Nashville, Tenn.
RP Deadline: Sunday, May 31 at 11:59:59 p.m.
RP Deadline: Sunday, May 31 at 11:59:59 p.m.
[SOUTH 2nd] 1. Nova vs. 4. Ace Mason
- Thread starter CuseTroy
- Start date
- Status
Nova
Just Like Law-Jesus
Erik Mateo.
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<o></o>
(FADEIN: A full moon hangs suspended in the humid southern air, surrounded by idle clouds. The camera pans downward until evergreen tips pierce the shot, and then continues to lower through thick forest before settling upon a lake which casts an iridescent reflective glow back up into the sky. A canoe cuts a wide swath in the otherwise still image. ZOOMIN: NOVA pushes and pulls the oars rhythmically, mindlessly. He looks up into the shot.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “ERIK MATEO…is a happier man. I don’t know if he fully realizes this yet, but it’s true…empirical as a barometer’s measure of rainfall.”
<o></o>
(CUTTO: NOVA walking backstage at a venue, clad in wrestling gear and his classic black tights with lightning bolts streaking the legs. He’s covered in sweat, his lip is busted, and the beginnings of a fine bruise are forming a semi-circle around his left eye. He acknowledges the camera without breaking his stride as co-workers pass him on both sides.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “Erik Mateo walked out of Memorial Gym in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1>Memphis </st1></st1:city>on his own accord, paid handsomely for any lingering pains in his head, neck, or back. He went home, iced down, put on late night in time for the monologue…and went to sleep.”
<o></o>
(CUTTO: NOVA outside a maternity ward, dressed in hospital scrubs. On the other side of the glass babies are crying. A man cries out down the hall as a body is wheeled out of a room, covered by black plastic.)
<o></o>
NOVA: (Lowering his mask) “It’s the end of one chapter but the beginning of another. Erik Mateo will go on, determined to find another opportunity to press his hand into the wet cement. Modest accomplishments will give way to notable accolades, and while the brightest lights, the stuff of legend, will elude him, other things will become important as well…other ways to shape his identity as a man.”
<o></o>
(CUTTO: NOVA standing in a crowded stairwell, a sign above him reading “L’Enfant Plaza.” All around him people zip by in double or triple-time, some shapeless blurs of motion.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “The family Erik Mateo creates for himself will provide personal victories that dwarf the distant sounds of cheering crowds. Their need for him will be a more powerful stimulant than any drug.”
<o></o>
(CUTTO: Rain blows down on a patch of black umbrellas surrounding an open grave in a cemetery. The shot pans downward until faces are visible. NOVA stands in the second row, clad in a black suit. An elderly woman sobs into a handkerchief next to him, and he puts an arm around her before looking into the camera, eyes shimmering with tears.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “Over the years there will be occasional tragedy…” (Smiling) “…but there will be moments of indescribable beauty and tenderness, too. Moments that are almost too much to bear for the weighty happiness that burdens his heart.”
<o></o>
(CUTTO: A sprawling open field after dark. NOVA lays on a blanket spread out at the top of a hill, arms behind his head. In the sky stars and planets are clearer than they’ve ever been, like the atmosphere has been peeled away to give us an unobscured view of heaven.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “Understanding comes with age. Things about himself, his life and the nature of this sad, beautiful experiment become clearer that once seemed as dark and mysterious as the origins of the universe. He looks back on his life and his decisions with humble gratitude for opportunities and precious gifts.”
<o></o>
(CUTTO: NOVA, pacing back and forth in front of a backdrop which is blurry, unfocused. Several figures appear in a huddle, their colors blending into the beige, soft light environment.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “When it is time for Erik Mateo to die, he will be surrounded by family, comforted but unable to express in words the overwhelming emotions of his final moments, final impartations of love and support, a fortunate end for a deserving soul…”
<o></o>
(CUTTO: NOVA, hunkered over a shaky porcelain sink in a dingy bathroom, staring up into the camera by way of his reflection in the mirror. There are dark bags under his eyes, and a cigarette hangs out of his mouth.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “…and all of it – the wonder, the awe, the beauty, the pain – it can all be traced back to a single decision…the one Erik Mateo made in the locker room mirror before he walked out to the ring in the Memorial Gym in Memphis…”
<o></o>
(The EAGLEstar takes a drag of the cigarette, and when he talks smoke puffs out of his mouth in spurts.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “…the decision to unclench his fist, to let a dream slip away…the decision to lay down. See, when I walked down to the ring and looked up into young Mr. Mateo’s eyes I knew, immediately I knew, that he was going to lay down for me. And we shared something in that moment, in our eye contact, a kind of understanding, something we BOTH knew, which was…by looking up into the mirror and choosing to let this fight go, Mr. Mateo was quite possibly saving his own life.
<o></o>
“Now I asked him a question, directly, about WHY he was in this tournament – a very relevant question for any of us – and I gave him a hint about my own reasons. Erik never got back to me in words with a response, but I saw the answer in his eyes that night <st1:city w:st="on"><st1></st1></st1:city>before he took the miniscule beating I was obligated to administer without a horde of drunken rednecks stampeding the ring for their money back. The answer I saw in his eyes was, ‘Whatever reason I have for being here, yours is obviously a HELL of a lot better.’”
<o></o>
(NOVA exhales a plume of smoke.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “So…ACE MASON…I’ll ask you the same thing. Why are YOU here? Some time between the sound of my voice and our booking in Memorial Gym<st1:city w:st="on"><st1></st1></st1:city>, Erik Mateo took a few minutes to really search himself for an answer, and I believe time will show he found the right one. I hope you do too, Ace...’cuz if you don’t…”
<o></o>
(ZOOMIN: Lip curling in anger, eyes cold.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “…it could be REAL bad for you.”
(FADETOBLACK.)
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(FADEIN: A full moon hangs suspended in the humid southern air, surrounded by idle clouds. The camera pans downward until evergreen tips pierce the shot, and then continues to lower through thick forest before settling upon a lake which casts an iridescent reflective glow back up into the sky. A canoe cuts a wide swath in the otherwise still image. ZOOMIN: NOVA pushes and pulls the oars rhythmically, mindlessly. He looks up into the shot.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “ERIK MATEO…is a happier man. I don’t know if he fully realizes this yet, but it’s true…empirical as a barometer’s measure of rainfall.”
<o></o>
(CUTTO: NOVA walking backstage at a venue, clad in wrestling gear and his classic black tights with lightning bolts streaking the legs. He’s covered in sweat, his lip is busted, and the beginnings of a fine bruise are forming a semi-circle around his left eye. He acknowledges the camera without breaking his stride as co-workers pass him on both sides.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “Erik Mateo walked out of Memorial Gym in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1>Memphis </st1></st1:city>on his own accord, paid handsomely for any lingering pains in his head, neck, or back. He went home, iced down, put on late night in time for the monologue…and went to sleep.”
<o></o>
(CUTTO: NOVA outside a maternity ward, dressed in hospital scrubs. On the other side of the glass babies are crying. A man cries out down the hall as a body is wheeled out of a room, covered by black plastic.)
<o></o>
NOVA: (Lowering his mask) “It’s the end of one chapter but the beginning of another. Erik Mateo will go on, determined to find another opportunity to press his hand into the wet cement. Modest accomplishments will give way to notable accolades, and while the brightest lights, the stuff of legend, will elude him, other things will become important as well…other ways to shape his identity as a man.”
<o></o>
(CUTTO: NOVA standing in a crowded stairwell, a sign above him reading “L’Enfant Plaza.” All around him people zip by in double or triple-time, some shapeless blurs of motion.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “The family Erik Mateo creates for himself will provide personal victories that dwarf the distant sounds of cheering crowds. Their need for him will be a more powerful stimulant than any drug.”
<o></o>
(CUTTO: Rain blows down on a patch of black umbrellas surrounding an open grave in a cemetery. The shot pans downward until faces are visible. NOVA stands in the second row, clad in a black suit. An elderly woman sobs into a handkerchief next to him, and he puts an arm around her before looking into the camera, eyes shimmering with tears.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “Over the years there will be occasional tragedy…” (Smiling) “…but there will be moments of indescribable beauty and tenderness, too. Moments that are almost too much to bear for the weighty happiness that burdens his heart.”
<o></o>
(CUTTO: A sprawling open field after dark. NOVA lays on a blanket spread out at the top of a hill, arms behind his head. In the sky stars and planets are clearer than they’ve ever been, like the atmosphere has been peeled away to give us an unobscured view of heaven.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “Understanding comes with age. Things about himself, his life and the nature of this sad, beautiful experiment become clearer that once seemed as dark and mysterious as the origins of the universe. He looks back on his life and his decisions with humble gratitude for opportunities and precious gifts.”
<o></o>
(CUTTO: NOVA, pacing back and forth in front of a backdrop which is blurry, unfocused. Several figures appear in a huddle, their colors blending into the beige, soft light environment.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “When it is time for Erik Mateo to die, he will be surrounded by family, comforted but unable to express in words the overwhelming emotions of his final moments, final impartations of love and support, a fortunate end for a deserving soul…”
<o></o>
(CUTTO: NOVA, hunkered over a shaky porcelain sink in a dingy bathroom, staring up into the camera by way of his reflection in the mirror. There are dark bags under his eyes, and a cigarette hangs out of his mouth.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “…and all of it – the wonder, the awe, the beauty, the pain – it can all be traced back to a single decision…the one Erik Mateo made in the locker room mirror before he walked out to the ring in the Memorial Gym in Memphis…”
<o></o>
(The EAGLEstar takes a drag of the cigarette, and when he talks smoke puffs out of his mouth in spurts.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “…the decision to unclench his fist, to let a dream slip away…the decision to lay down. See, when I walked down to the ring and looked up into young Mr. Mateo’s eyes I knew, immediately I knew, that he was going to lay down for me. And we shared something in that moment, in our eye contact, a kind of understanding, something we BOTH knew, which was…by looking up into the mirror and choosing to let this fight go, Mr. Mateo was quite possibly saving his own life.
<o></o>
“Now I asked him a question, directly, about WHY he was in this tournament – a very relevant question for any of us – and I gave him a hint about my own reasons. Erik never got back to me in words with a response, but I saw the answer in his eyes that night <st1:city w:st="on"><st1></st1></st1:city>before he took the miniscule beating I was obligated to administer without a horde of drunken rednecks stampeding the ring for their money back. The answer I saw in his eyes was, ‘Whatever reason I have for being here, yours is obviously a HELL of a lot better.’”
<o></o>
(NOVA exhales a plume of smoke.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “So…ACE MASON…I’ll ask you the same thing. Why are YOU here? Some time between the sound of my voice and our booking in Memorial Gym<st1:city w:st="on"><st1></st1></st1:city>, Erik Mateo took a few minutes to really search himself for an answer, and I believe time will show he found the right one. I hope you do too, Ace...’cuz if you don’t…”
<o></o>
(ZOOMIN: Lip curling in anger, eyes cold.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “…it could be REAL bad for you.”
(FADETOBLACK.)
Fusenshoff
League Member
Fade in to Ace Mason sitting in front of a TEAM backdrop. There are no fancy visual effects or paid extras to film a funeral scene. The viewer isn’t reminded of a Chase credit card commercial with “100 Years” by Five for Fighting playing in the background. It’s just Ace, a camera and a propensity to obviate the need for bells and whistles when making a point.
“Men often become what they believe themselves to be. If I believe I cannot do something it makes me incapable of doing it. But when I believe I can, then I acquire the ability to do it.”
- Mahatma Ghandi
Ace Mason: “It seems Erik Mateo made quite an impression on the former Champion of Champions. He didn’t have to say a word and still his impact stamps itself in Nova’s mind, like an echo reverberating throughout the walls of a double wide in a trailer park that’s ironically named Paradise.
“Mateo was a man with delusions of grandeur, fabricating allusions to Gavdos, a rapture so ravishing it’s only realized in REM for those who ruminate rather than react.
“Which begs the question: who the hell cares about Erik Mateo?
“That was quite the tribute promo Nova. It seems you spent all that time pent up in a hospital bed learning how to use the latest Lightwave 3D software. Must get pretty boring reading High Times and hitting on the middle-aged nurse while she tells you how you’re her son’s favorite wrestler.
“Getting beaten half to death, you probably took no chances and figured a career change may be in order. Luckily a little ganja sprinkled in with the best doctors money can buy fixed that issue, but apparently you still dabble with CGI now and again.
“But I can also picture you saddled up next to Spike Jonze, picking out your favorite effects and stoner symbolism to portray Mateo in just the right light. Like that old Dwyane Wade Sportscenter commercial… ‘when it’s ready’, ‘when it’s ready’.
“One thing’s for sure, you had time to kill.
“Erik Mateo was simply performing an encore Nova; one seen too many times by too many wrestlers. He pulled the same exact stunt in last year’s TiT against my good buddy Fusenshoff, but it’s nothing new. A guy sees an opportunity to reach the Promised Land and dives in without thinking. He’s inevitably met with a challenge that seems insurmountable and rationalizes a thousand different excuses to throw in the towel before the pyros ignite.
“Some men don’t understand the rewards associated with challenge. Self-assurance is simply a word Tony Robbins uses to them. The exhilaration of sheer will colliding with the greatest adversities fades into a steep horizon. Confidence amassed from fearless ambition pervading all obstacles lies in their fleeting hope that its essence will fall from the sky and settle in their upturned palm.
“ Nova, you asked me why I’m here. It’s because I’m not Erik Mateo. Settling to me is land occupation, not a character trait. I’ve spent my entire life pushing ‘accomplishment’ to its breaking point. Many times I’ve failed and a time or two I’ve succeeded, but I’ve always reaped the rewards of gratification; a job best done.
“So if your diatribe to refute inertness leaves you fretting over having to repeat such a misfortune, rest easy this week.
“You wasted an awful lot of my time reminiscing over your unsatisfying progression to the second round. I spent 90% of your promo wondering…
“Who the hell cares about Erik Mateo?
“Nobody- so get over it. You whooped his ass and now he’s gone. I’m next; so focus on the match at hand. The trite warning was surprisingly sub-par for your typical standards, but I’ll write it off as rust and assume you’ll come up with something less generic next time. Otherwise … it could be REEEEALLL BAAADDD for you!
“See, it sounds stupid when anyone does it, even you.
Fade out as Ace Mason stands up and approaches the camera. He pauses, then throws his hands in the air and hops back and forth from one foot to another. Then he turns sideways and shoots finger-guns at something nearby. He somersaults out of the scene, hoping the viewer understands his mocking of the embellishments Nova added to his last promo.
“Men often become what they believe themselves to be. If I believe I cannot do something it makes me incapable of doing it. But when I believe I can, then I acquire the ability to do it.”
- Mahatma Ghandi
Ace Mason: “It seems Erik Mateo made quite an impression on the former Champion of Champions. He didn’t have to say a word and still his impact stamps itself in Nova’s mind, like an echo reverberating throughout the walls of a double wide in a trailer park that’s ironically named Paradise.
“Mateo was a man with delusions of grandeur, fabricating allusions to Gavdos, a rapture so ravishing it’s only realized in REM for those who ruminate rather than react.
“Which begs the question: who the hell cares about Erik Mateo?
“That was quite the tribute promo Nova. It seems you spent all that time pent up in a hospital bed learning how to use the latest Lightwave 3D software. Must get pretty boring reading High Times and hitting on the middle-aged nurse while she tells you how you’re her son’s favorite wrestler.
“Getting beaten half to death, you probably took no chances and figured a career change may be in order. Luckily a little ganja sprinkled in with the best doctors money can buy fixed that issue, but apparently you still dabble with CGI now and again.
“But I can also picture you saddled up next to Spike Jonze, picking out your favorite effects and stoner symbolism to portray Mateo in just the right light. Like that old Dwyane Wade Sportscenter commercial… ‘when it’s ready’, ‘when it’s ready’.
“One thing’s for sure, you had time to kill.
“Erik Mateo was simply performing an encore Nova; one seen too many times by too many wrestlers. He pulled the same exact stunt in last year’s TiT against my good buddy Fusenshoff, but it’s nothing new. A guy sees an opportunity to reach the Promised Land and dives in without thinking. He’s inevitably met with a challenge that seems insurmountable and rationalizes a thousand different excuses to throw in the towel before the pyros ignite.
“Some men don’t understand the rewards associated with challenge. Self-assurance is simply a word Tony Robbins uses to them. The exhilaration of sheer will colliding with the greatest adversities fades into a steep horizon. Confidence amassed from fearless ambition pervading all obstacles lies in their fleeting hope that its essence will fall from the sky and settle in their upturned palm.
“ Nova, you asked me why I’m here. It’s because I’m not Erik Mateo. Settling to me is land occupation, not a character trait. I’ve spent my entire life pushing ‘accomplishment’ to its breaking point. Many times I’ve failed and a time or two I’ve succeeded, but I’ve always reaped the rewards of gratification; a job best done.
“So if your diatribe to refute inertness leaves you fretting over having to repeat such a misfortune, rest easy this week.
“You wasted an awful lot of my time reminiscing over your unsatisfying progression to the second round. I spent 90% of your promo wondering…
“Who the hell cares about Erik Mateo?
“Nobody- so get over it. You whooped his ass and now he’s gone. I’m next; so focus on the match at hand. The trite warning was surprisingly sub-par for your typical standards, but I’ll write it off as rust and assume you’ll come up with something less generic next time. Otherwise … it could be REEEEALLL BAAADDD for you!
“See, it sounds stupid when anyone does it, even you.
Fade out as Ace Mason stands up and approaches the camera. He pauses, then throws his hands in the air and hops back and forth from one foot to another. Then he turns sideways and shoots finger-guns at something nearby. He somersaults out of the scene, hoping the viewer understands his mocking of the embellishments Nova added to his last promo.
Nova
Just Like Law-Jesus
Ace Mason.
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<o></o>
NOVA: (Lighting a cigarette) “If a sh*tty mockery winds up embarrassing the mocker more than his intended target, is that ironic?
"Say all you want, ACE – though I and I suspect tens of thousands of others wish you wouldn’t – but you still didn’t answer my one single question, even though I know this is wrestling and I tried to choose my words REAL CAREFUL-LIKE.
<o></o>
“Why…the F*CK…are you here? 'I'm not Erik Mateo' gets you a failing grade, sorry.” (Looking around) “People, damn! I don’t think I’ve tried to shroud this in a boatload of mystery or anything, it’s like ‘Do you love her,’ it’s a simpler question than you think and if you’re having trouble coming up with something DAYS after the question is put to you then maybe that’s a bad thing.”
<o></o>
(NOVA grabs a remote and switches on a TV in the corner of the room. ACE MASON appears on-screen, lips moving.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “I don’t know what this sh*t is.”
<o></o>
(He reaches into his pocket and removes a pair of reading glasses. He pulls up a stapled packet from underneath his chair and begins leafing through it.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “I don’t know what THIS sh*t is!” (Looking up into the camera) “The mental picture I’m getting in my head is an Olympic-sized swimming pool FULL of little orange Gatorade lids, each one bearing an inspiring word like “challenge,” “triumph,” “sunset,” “mountain,” or “strength,” and then there’s YOU, Ace, walking the pool perimeter with a big net fishing out random piles of these things to assemble into your TRAINWRECK of the English language that comes off about as mystical as a dreadlocked college freshman lazily quoting passages from his dog-eared copy of the Tibetan Book of the Dead.”
<o></o>
(The EAGLEstar reaches forward and grabs the camera with both hands, pulling it closer to his face. He loses the reading glasses, probably a good idea because they look real gay but what the hell, they accomplish their purpose and Nova’s thirty now, so it’s like one foot in the grave basically, right?)
<o></o>
NOVA: “I’m bored with this already, Ace…so let me paint a picture for you, real general so everyone can savor the themes instead of getting lost in the semantics. I put my trust, my FAITH, in a company – really you could say a single person – for a long time. For YEARS. When no one else seemed to care I was there like a f*cking PUPPY, all smiles, reddy ta’ WORK, boss! And then when the wind shifted a little bit I got thrown out with the bathwater. Left for scrap.” (Lighting a cigarette) “I could’ve expected it, SHOULD’VE expected it, and I have other irrelevant plans for dealing with him and with that place.”
<o></o>
(NOVA grins broadly.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “But I’m working in reverse order, because you see while I was laid up SOMETHING ELSE TOTALLY AWESOME happened, and I got sh*t on by Company Number Two – but HEY! You already know that story, right, Ace? Your ‘best bud’ Fusenshoff is the Champion of Champions after all…man, that must’ve been SOME match, sorry I missed it with the neck injury ‘n all, who’d he clobber? Lindsay Troy? Ooh, was it Dan Ryan? Did that rapscallion come back for another taste? Huh?” (His face loses the sarcasm) “No it wasn’t any of that, was it? It was the guy with the worst market re-branding in wrestling history, and Ravager, who if victory was p*ssy and his d*ck was made out of PURE 100% UNCUT COCAINE would still emerge ‘winless’ from a <st1><st1>Playboy</st1> <st1>Mansion</st1> </st1>party.
<o></o>
“But I digress, tell your friend to enjoy the trinket.” (Flicking his cigarette away) “What’s IMPORTANT here isn’t the Championship of Champions, believe me, I’ve done that thing and done it UNEQUIVOCABLY better than anyone else did it. I also won the Tournament of Champions and got to watch young beautiful women dance naked around the Harvard Avalon Memorial Trophy for the better part of a year before my secluded lake house was blown up by one of my good friends. But even *I* know that the TEAM Invitational Tournament is in a class of its own. It’s like the f*cking PROM around here, except less disturbing, more violent, and three or four months long. So here’s my GRAND VISION, Ace – you still with me, buddy? Here it is…”
<o></o>
(NOVA stares off, raising an arm theatrically.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “It’s the Wherever Arena, site of this year’s EPIC SHOWDOWN TIT FINALS, and the crowd is LOSING IT. Confetti, all that bullsh*t, it’s all comin’ down all over the place and there I am, standing in the middle of the ring, none the worse for wear. Lying on the mat – oh, let’s see, let’s toss Ryan in there, he’s a hoss, odds-on favorite from the other side were I a betting man – so Ryan’s down there, hands folded around his head and neck, we’ve seen this before so it shouldn’t be mental gymnastics conjuring up the picture…and then the attention turns to the entrance ramp!”
<o></o>
(Clasping hands together, batting eyelashes) “Ooooooh, it’s the Chad Merritt trophy YOU-GUISE!!! They’re bringing it down, isn’t it radiant, what a wonderful night, we all kind of knew or loved good ol’ Chad maybe, just THINK about the competitors who have gone to WAR for that trophy…now they’re giving it to him, what a moment! The FEELING, the EMOTION in this arena…oh, he’s calling for a mic! He wants to say a few words! Let’s all listen!”
<o></o>
(NOVA holds up a finger.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “And THAT is when I grip the mic in my hand, and I turn, and I BAT that stupid little man right off the top of that GARBAGE f*cking trophy. But that’s just the beginning. As Merritt’s tiny commemorative golden statuette hurtles through the crowd, I’m gonna take that mic – or if there’s time and I feel randy maybe a chair or something – and I’m gonna chip off every piece of that monolithic monument to this SINKHOLE that I can. And when I’ve done that, and there’s nothing left to disfigure except the base itself, I’m gonna tip the big f*cker over and PISS ON IT. This will come after DAYS of careful bladder conditioning and water retention training exercises, so I’ll be up there all night watering this thing down. Don’t ask me how I intend to make it through the Finals matchup with a bladder full to the bursting point, that’s my problem, not yours. I just want to make sure there’s enough time for EVERY fan, and EVERY employee and suit backstage to soak in the reality of a potentially beautiful moment…completely F*CKED…
<o></o>
“…just like TEAM f*cked me.”
<o></o>
(NOVA lights another cigarette.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “THAT’s why I’m here, Ace. That’s why I told Erik Mateo to get out of my way, that’s why I’m going to drop you on your head and move on to Asshole Number Three…so I can get to the end…”
<o></o>
(FADETOBLACK.)
<o></o>
NOVA (V/O) “…and hopefully ruin everything.”
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NOVA: (Lighting a cigarette) “If a sh*tty mockery winds up embarrassing the mocker more than his intended target, is that ironic?
"Say all you want, ACE – though I and I suspect tens of thousands of others wish you wouldn’t – but you still didn’t answer my one single question, even though I know this is wrestling and I tried to choose my words REAL CAREFUL-LIKE.
<o></o>
“Why…the F*CK…are you here? 'I'm not Erik Mateo' gets you a failing grade, sorry.” (Looking around) “People, damn! I don’t think I’ve tried to shroud this in a boatload of mystery or anything, it’s like ‘Do you love her,’ it’s a simpler question than you think and if you’re having trouble coming up with something DAYS after the question is put to you then maybe that’s a bad thing.”
<o></o>
(NOVA grabs a remote and switches on a TV in the corner of the room. ACE MASON appears on-screen, lips moving.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “I don’t know what this sh*t is.”
<o></o>
(He reaches into his pocket and removes a pair of reading glasses. He pulls up a stapled packet from underneath his chair and begins leafing through it.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “I don’t know what THIS sh*t is!” (Looking up into the camera) “The mental picture I’m getting in my head is an Olympic-sized swimming pool FULL of little orange Gatorade lids, each one bearing an inspiring word like “challenge,” “triumph,” “sunset,” “mountain,” or “strength,” and then there’s YOU, Ace, walking the pool perimeter with a big net fishing out random piles of these things to assemble into your TRAINWRECK of the English language that comes off about as mystical as a dreadlocked college freshman lazily quoting passages from his dog-eared copy of the Tibetan Book of the Dead.”
<o></o>
(The EAGLEstar reaches forward and grabs the camera with both hands, pulling it closer to his face. He loses the reading glasses, probably a good idea because they look real gay but what the hell, they accomplish their purpose and Nova’s thirty now, so it’s like one foot in the grave basically, right?)
<o></o>
NOVA: “I’m bored with this already, Ace…so let me paint a picture for you, real general so everyone can savor the themes instead of getting lost in the semantics. I put my trust, my FAITH, in a company – really you could say a single person – for a long time. For YEARS. When no one else seemed to care I was there like a f*cking PUPPY, all smiles, reddy ta’ WORK, boss! And then when the wind shifted a little bit I got thrown out with the bathwater. Left for scrap.” (Lighting a cigarette) “I could’ve expected it, SHOULD’VE expected it, and I have other irrelevant plans for dealing with him and with that place.”
<o></o>
(NOVA grins broadly.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “But I’m working in reverse order, because you see while I was laid up SOMETHING ELSE TOTALLY AWESOME happened, and I got sh*t on by Company Number Two – but HEY! You already know that story, right, Ace? Your ‘best bud’ Fusenshoff is the Champion of Champions after all…man, that must’ve been SOME match, sorry I missed it with the neck injury ‘n all, who’d he clobber? Lindsay Troy? Ooh, was it Dan Ryan? Did that rapscallion come back for another taste? Huh?” (His face loses the sarcasm) “No it wasn’t any of that, was it? It was the guy with the worst market re-branding in wrestling history, and Ravager, who if victory was p*ssy and his d*ck was made out of PURE 100% UNCUT COCAINE would still emerge ‘winless’ from a <st1><st1>Playboy</st1> <st1>Mansion</st1> </st1>party.
<o></o>
“But I digress, tell your friend to enjoy the trinket.” (Flicking his cigarette away) “What’s IMPORTANT here isn’t the Championship of Champions, believe me, I’ve done that thing and done it UNEQUIVOCABLY better than anyone else did it. I also won the Tournament of Champions and got to watch young beautiful women dance naked around the Harvard Avalon Memorial Trophy for the better part of a year before my secluded lake house was blown up by one of my good friends. But even *I* know that the TEAM Invitational Tournament is in a class of its own. It’s like the f*cking PROM around here, except less disturbing, more violent, and three or four months long. So here’s my GRAND VISION, Ace – you still with me, buddy? Here it is…”
<o></o>
(NOVA stares off, raising an arm theatrically.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “It’s the Wherever Arena, site of this year’s EPIC SHOWDOWN TIT FINALS, and the crowd is LOSING IT. Confetti, all that bullsh*t, it’s all comin’ down all over the place and there I am, standing in the middle of the ring, none the worse for wear. Lying on the mat – oh, let’s see, let’s toss Ryan in there, he’s a hoss, odds-on favorite from the other side were I a betting man – so Ryan’s down there, hands folded around his head and neck, we’ve seen this before so it shouldn’t be mental gymnastics conjuring up the picture…and then the attention turns to the entrance ramp!”
<o></o>
(Clasping hands together, batting eyelashes) “Ooooooh, it’s the Chad Merritt trophy YOU-GUISE!!! They’re bringing it down, isn’t it radiant, what a wonderful night, we all kind of knew or loved good ol’ Chad maybe, just THINK about the competitors who have gone to WAR for that trophy…now they’re giving it to him, what a moment! The FEELING, the EMOTION in this arena…oh, he’s calling for a mic! He wants to say a few words! Let’s all listen!”
<o></o>
(NOVA holds up a finger.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “And THAT is when I grip the mic in my hand, and I turn, and I BAT that stupid little man right off the top of that GARBAGE f*cking trophy. But that’s just the beginning. As Merritt’s tiny commemorative golden statuette hurtles through the crowd, I’m gonna take that mic – or if there’s time and I feel randy maybe a chair or something – and I’m gonna chip off every piece of that monolithic monument to this SINKHOLE that I can. And when I’ve done that, and there’s nothing left to disfigure except the base itself, I’m gonna tip the big f*cker over and PISS ON IT. This will come after DAYS of careful bladder conditioning and water retention training exercises, so I’ll be up there all night watering this thing down. Don’t ask me how I intend to make it through the Finals matchup with a bladder full to the bursting point, that’s my problem, not yours. I just want to make sure there’s enough time for EVERY fan, and EVERY employee and suit backstage to soak in the reality of a potentially beautiful moment…completely F*CKED…
<o></o>
“…just like TEAM f*cked me.”
<o></o>
(NOVA lights another cigarette.)
<o></o>
NOVA: “THAT’s why I’m here, Ace. That’s why I told Erik Mateo to get out of my way, that’s why I’m going to drop you on your head and move on to Asshole Number Three…so I can get to the end…”
<o></o>
(FADETOBLACK.)
<o></o>
NOVA (V/O) “…and hopefully ruin everything.”
- Status