[SSVIII] TiT Semifinal: Troy Douglas vs. Mike Randalls

[TH]

Minneapolis Champion (4) Troy Douglas Defeated:
Showtyme
Simply Beautiful
Dan Ryan
Fusenshoff

Orlando Champion (1) Mike Randalls Defeated:
Wong-Pei the Circus Trained Monkey
Dean Hobkirk
Dusk
Chip Friendly

Match held at the Phillips Arena in Atlanta, GA. One fall to a finish. All regular RP rules apply. RP deadline is Saturday, May 31st at 11:59:59 PM, give or take a second.

 

[jediPREZ]

CSWA SUPER PT – July 15, 1997
‘DEVASTATING’ MIKE RANDALLS © vs. JULIUS GODREIGN
*PRODIGY WRESTLING UNIFIED NON-TITLE EXHIBITION

(B/W GRAINY FADEIN: RANDALLS reeling GODREIGN into a standing headscissors as ringside fans are panicking! RANDALLS drops him with a piledriver onto the chair! The crowd starts throwing trash everywhere as RANDALLS shoves the referee out of the way. He grabs GODREIGN by the legs and locks him into the Texas Cloverleaf DEVASTATOR 1.0 outside the ring!)

(FLASH CUTTO: MERRITT in RANDALLS’ face, threatening him as paramedics roll GODREIGN onto a stretcher. GODREIGN is screaming, clutching his knee in agony. QUICK CUTTO: RANDALLS lunging at MERRITT as police officers rush into the ring with nightsticks!

BB: (V/O) “We’ve got security officers! Five or six of them! Randalls grabs a cop, the others start clubbing him…they’re CUFFING Randalls! They’re ARRESTING HIM!”

(FADEOUT)

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

“The people around our head, saying everything that’s already been said…”

(FADEIN: ‘The Wolf’ MIKE RANDALLS in a close-up shot from the side. He’s wearing a white t-shirt from what can be seen. His eyes are overlooking something below…)

RANDALLS: “One day you realize who they’ve become…a whispering jury itching to be hung. Even when you have begun to realize winning isn’t worth your night or day or if there’s anyone to hear what I’ll say…”

(RANDALLS pauses and makes eye contact into the camera, his focus glaring for several seconds...)

RANDALLS: “Open wide the fears you hide and take all the renown you have...”

(RANDALLS returns his gaze to the unknown surroundings the camera cannot behold.)

RANDALLS: “…shove away stories of a stake, because they are lazy and overdone.”

(RANDALLS shakes his head side-to side slowly for a moment.)

RANDALLS: “It’s tired and its charms felt hired with no surprise, when I first faced Troy Douglas in the inaugural TEAM Lethal Lottery. Now, in a different scene I see what this is meant to be…simple destiny. It is why I have hymns that I hum and prayers that I say…Clouded memories wishing to wash away the decade of introverted and decadent hatred I hold in disdain. The joy of pain once keeping me alive, now nothing more than a shadow I’ve cut from my life.”

(Slowly, the camera pans back from close-up shot of RANDALLS and we see that he’s standing on the second level of the Phillips Arena – site of TEAM SUPERSHOW VIII.)

RANDALLS: “…I look around and see the ground that makes me realize I’m not far from what I once was…”

(FLASH CUTTO: MIKE RANDALLS and TSUNAMI fighting somewhere in Phillips Arena at CSWA PRIMETIME in ATLANTA, GA 2004! RANDALLS is handcuffed, but somehow flips TSUNAMI end over end into a sparkling shower of exploding video equipment! The crowd watches in shock as RANDALLS walks up the stairs to the front-row of the second level…covered in blood.

QUICK CUTTO: Back to the current time, where RANDALLS is in the dimly lit and vastly silent Phillips Arena. RANDALLS slightly smiles, looking above to the rafters.)

RANDALLS: “The words of this sport are long, Troy. Stretching back before us and waiting further for those greater than we can imagine. Ten years ago on a single night, I fought three other men for a UNIFIED CHAMPIONSHIP considered more prestigious than ANY others in sight. I fought for this gold that I thought I could free myself from the hold of federations, men like Chad Merritt and something I’d be honored to call my own. I wouldn’t be bound to anything or anyone, but MYSELF…and in my state of mind, that’s all that mattered at the time.”

(RANDALLS looks back down surveying the ground…)

RANDALLS: “Three men to defeat for the prize… (RANDALLS slightly smirks) Hornet, Guns and Julius Godreign in an Ironman of Champions.”

(RANDALLS remains silent…not saying a word.)

RANDALLS: “And I won the championship, Troy. I defeated Hornet and Guns in the same night…Hornet in the Main Event, more than 60,000 people in attendance and millions watching on television. My two greatest enemies vanquished in the process of winning the single, greatest championship my eyes ever beheld...”

(RANDALLS laughs)

RANDALLS: “But I lost to Julius Godreign on that night…and I did not forget the loss, Troy. Of anything from that night…it was ALL I could remember. I felt insulted he agreed to a non-title exhibition before our title rematch. I prided myself on saying NO wrestler in the UNIVERSE could beat me TWO times in a row. So what happened?”

(RANDALLS shakes his head dismissively of himself.)

RANDALLS: “I tore his ACL apart in front of MILLIONS of people. Therefore…mere moments after everyone’s watching this promo in 2008 and wondering who the F(BLEEP!)K is Julius Godreign?”

(RANDALLS’ eyes return to the camera…)

RANDALLS: “Now you know, that I have to live knowing I am the reason why.”

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

(FLASH CUTTO: RANDALLS at the 2004 CSWA PT – climbing up onto the railing with the aid of the fans at Phillips Arena...)

RANDALLS: (V/O) “But a day did dawn, Troy…I saw the light and it was beautiful. At first, I thought if I subjected myself to the same torment I delivered, I’d answer the screaming paranoid perception that time was short on my soul…””

(CLOSEUP: The crowd balancing RANDALLS with their fingertips…)

RANDALLS: (V/O) “Time has told me, redemption is a rare find.”

(CUTTO: Back to RANDALLS overlooking the railing…)

RANDALLS: (V/O) “A troubling cure for my humbled mind…”

BB: LOOK! NOOOO! THIS IS GOING TO KILL HIM!!!!

(RANDALLS, still handcuffed, stands up… blood everywhere. He looks down and steps up to the railing and flips forward… landing chest first onto the barbed wire bat that is draped across Tsunami.)

CROWD: THEY’RE BOTH DEAD! THEY’RE BOTH DEAD!

BB: Medics! Medics! Get out here NOW!

(A whole crew of people flood out, including referee Ben Worthington. Randalls somehow lifts his head up and just stares at him. Worthington, completely freaked out of his mind, gets down.)

RANDALLS: (V/O) “Time has told me to ask for nothing more.”

BB: RANDALLS WANTS WORTHINGTON TO COUNT! ONNNNEEE!!! TWOOOO!!! THREEE!!!! RANDALLS WANTED TO WIN THIS MATCH! AND HE JUST DID! BUT AT WHAT COST! BOTH MEN ARE OUT! BOTH MEN ARE HURT! GET THEM OUT OF HERE! GET THEM TO THE HOSPITAL!

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

(SLOW FADE-IN: RANDALLS standing inside the ring that’s been set up for SUPERSHOW VIII…plain white t-shirt, blue jeans and shoeless. His shoulder-length auburn hair draped in front of his face as he stares at the TEAM logo beneath his feet on the mat.)

RANDALLS: “All the conjecture and dissertation regarding my past means nothing if I don’t win this match. It becomes a footnote in one man’s angry history watching redemption’s fruitless tree die without the sunlight it needs. And don’t misunderstand the principles of the verbal prose I leave before you, Troy. When we walk into this arena, when the Way leads us to the ring…I will not be recalling the mistakes and transgressions I’ve committed, I will not be in silent remembrance of a night I defeated Tsunami or ripped Julius Godreign’s dreams from the sky.”

(RANDALLS’ emerald eyes slowly rise from the ground, glowering straight at the camera.)

RANDALLS: “It is the trail of my Way, how I made our sport wrestle against an energy it could not control. In my penance, its now channeled and challenged for a single, solitary goal. From your travels with Empire, PRIME and A1-E…maybe the undulating waves of competition water down your perception of what one trophy must mean. I have no fed to call home, nothing in this sport as my own…just the Chad Merritt Trophy and the future of TEAM.”

(RANDALLS lets those words sink in for a moment)

RANDALLS: “I’ve been called a heretic and you can call me a relic for everything I say. Soliloquies of federations I’ve tried to bury and oaths to men I’ve watched history fade away. The same men I made suffer for my addictions to misery were the reasons I spent five years committing near-suicide in every ring. Now, my eyes open to another belief…that wrestling in suicidal sacrifice will not give back the honor I took from the sport of wrestling.”

(The camera closes in on RANDALLS, his face intently starting forward…)

RANDALLS: “Now, I realize…I’ve only taken more. My supposed sacrifices left traditions to die and an acceptance of comedy as a sport. Look around, Troy…take the moment to see what TEAM possibly wants… a f*cking VIKING in the Final Four…”

(RANDALLS holds up his hand that’s got the word “NOVA” still scabbed crimson.)

RANDALLS: “…and a CLOWN at the TOP.”

(RANDALLS puts down his hand, but he’s not smiling over his statement.)

RANDALLS: “Such ideals and moralities that shame this sport’s integrity, compounded by my own hypocritical trysts with Nova and Yori on a hazy diet of drugs and our luminous dreams. In my decision to live a life of conviction without glory …I now face the reality of a young institution willing to exodus its own ring’s honor and glory beyond reach.”

(RANDALLS looks around at the arena, breathing in deeply.)

RANDALLS: “You have been on the watch too long, Troy Douglas. A wrestler as skilled as yourself has done what you can, for as long as you could…and now in this tournament for the Chad Merritt Trophy, you have reached your final stop.”

(RANDALLS’ eyes return to the cameras, as they close in.)

RANDALLS: “This is the Way and this is destiny… For TEAM to have a torch worthy of passing and a chance for its legend to grow…it must start with one of the world’s greatest wrestlers willing to defend its championships as the only ones to behold. My redemption, my still-beating pledge to this sport… lies in EVERY chance at victory within TEAM I will come across. To defeat me in this ring… it will risk EVERYTHING you have…(RANDALLS smirks briefly) STAKED in Empire, PRIME or A1-E. Godreign and Tsunami are only two out of thousands of what is and what should never be…two token tales warning you to try and deny my conviction and my desire to win this trophy. VICTORY now means EVERYTHING, to me...so be forewarned if you do not surrender, in my redemption...I will not hesitate to be your career-ENDER. If that's the choice made in your mind, whether through your sacrifice or pride...your final judgment will happen in this ring. I hope the three seconds of time you seek are worthy enough to lose yourself in the darkest pages of this sport of wrestling. Its that large section called...”

(FADETOBLACK as RANDALLS simply lowers his eyes back to the ground)

RANDALLS: (V/O) “...History.”

***credits to Merritt/Gethard on CSWA material.

 

[CuseTroy]

FADE IN...

Troy Douglas, EPW Intercontinental Champion, newly crowned PRIME Intense Champion, A1E Cyber Champion and semifinalist in the 2008 TEAM Invitational Tournament, stands in front of a "Final Four '08" backdrop at TEAM's makeshift interview set in the bowels of Phillips Arena in Atlanta. Douglas, wearing khaki shorts and a grey Syracuse University Lacrosse t-shirt, takes a deep breath -- steadying himself -- and brings his eyes to camera level.

TD: This is...

Well, it's a bit of a strange situation, folks.

Now, I'm not surprised that I've gotten this far, just two steps away from ascending to the top of the mountain and claiming the Merritt Trophy. I've been confident in my abilities from Day One, regardless of naysayers, critics and bull**** artists telling me that I couldn't do it.

But, I'll save you the played out Rocky Balboa story, because that's really more the territory of hacky sports columnists than it is mine. Plus, we've got something far, far more interesting to talk about.

That being you, Mike Randalls. A man whom, I dare say, has a reputation that precedes himself. A man with a legacy of being one of the greatest to ever step inside the squared circle. And, perhaps more importantly, a man with a legacy of being one of the most violent, reckless, ruthless and dangerous men to have ever laced up a pair of wrestling boots.

And, while we've only been in the ring together once, I can certainly attest to each and every word of that being nothing short of the absolute, one hundred percent Gospel truth.

But, I didn't need to get in the ring with you for the Lethal Lottery titles last year to give me proof of that. I've got nearly fifteen years of memories, fifteen years of deteriorating VHS tapes, fifteen years of watching you do some of the most -- well -- DEVASTATING things ever seen on a wrestling show.

I was there when you put that stake through GUNS' knee. I was there when you ripped Godreign's ACL into a million tiny strands.

I was there for barbed wire, electrified cages, WHEELS OF DEATH, anything you've done in this industry that involved blood, guts, the tearing of flesh and the dismembering of limbs, I was probably there to witness it.

If not, I've worn out the video from countless viewings.

But, that's not all I was there for, Mike. I was there for the UNIFIED titles, the legendary matches with men like Hornet, Windham and so many others. Your career, like the careers of so many others, was a defining part of my life from age twelve on. It's why I'm here today, instead of making damn good money to do something that would allow me to be in my own bed seven nights a week, without the danger of having my skull caved in or my back being put permanently out of commission.

When the most famous wrestling company in history springs up just a couple of blocks from your front door, it has a habit of making a major impact on the career of a future pro wrestler.

So, don't think for one damn second that I don't know exactly what you're capable of, Randalls. You may have faced some people in this tournament who've discounted you, who thought you cruised into the tournament with a top seed because of reputation and not relevancy.

But, I'm smart enough not to care what's been on your resume over the last decade, Mike. I know exactly who you are, exactly what you do and exactly how you like to go about doing it, and I know that none of that is pleasant for the man standing across the canvas from you.

Especially if that man has a win over you, like I happen to. I know what lengths you'll go to for redemption and revenge, Mike. I know what you'll do in order to leave no doubt that you are the better man, and I know I'm being put in a hell of a spot in order to take that next step towards the Merritt Trophy.

I know it all, Mike. But, guess what?

I'm not scared.

Fifteen years ago, when I was a 17-year-old kid sitting five rows back, I most certainly would've been scared. Get into the ring with Mike Randalls? The Devastating One? Might as well have been suicide.

Eight years ago, when I was just breaking into this business with a screwed up knee and an even more screwed up back, I still would've been terrified at the thought of getting into the squared circle with you.

Two years ago, coming back from the absolute depths of my own depression, not knowing whether I could still get into this ring and perform without breaking down both mentally and physically, I still would've shyed away from someone like you, Mike.

But now? Not anymore. Not after what I've done in the past two years. Not after what I've done in the past month.

Three companies, three men, three titles.

The Sergeant.

Dusk.

Rocko Daymon.

I walked into the ring with all of them to challenge for a championship. And each time in succession, at the end of the night, I walked out with their gold, courtesy of a hold I'm sure you became quite familiar with over the years.

Three men, three Scorpion Deathlocks, one man holding titles in EPW, PRIME and A1E. I went straight into the lion's den without hesitation or fear, and I walked out as a champion.

And now, as I prepare to step inside the Wolf's lair, every moment, every trial that has led me here has given me a steel resolve, Mike. There was a time I would've stepped into the ring with you and be nothing more than a scared little child.

Not now, Mike. Because the very commitments you say have watered down my perception have been what has prepared me for this trial, for this test. I'm ready for whatever you're going to try and do to me, Mike, and I'm fully ready to resist you at every turn until you go down for three seconds or the pain of the Deathlock is just too much.

Because, make no mistake, Randalls, I DO understand what this trophy signifies.

Championships come and championships go, which is a fact I know all too well. There are thousands of people who can call themselves a champion in this industry, but to win this tournament, this trophy, that's going to stay up there forever.

That's IMMORTALITY. The closest thing we've got to a true UNIFIED Championship in the industry today is this tournament. It's the one chance you get to stand up, state your case, then get into the ring and prove that you are, unequivocably, the very best in the world.

Not in a division, or a company, or a loose grouping of federations, but the entire world. Like I told, Fusenshoff, this tournament means a chance to have my name forever connected to the greatest in history.

Hornet.

Melton.

Mark Windham.

Troy Windham.

Eli Flair.

Eddy Love.

Dan Ryan.

And you, Mike. This is my chance to get to that plateau you reached that night in 1997 when you beat Hornet in front of sixty thousand strong for the UNIFIED title. This is my chance to etch my moment in history, and I've got no hesitation whatsoever in laying it all on the line to run you over in pursuit of that dream.

So if you want an answer, Mike, here it is. I'm ready and WILLING to stake everything on this match. Everything in A1E, EPW, PRIME, TEAM, anywhere and everywhere I've ever been, anything and everything I've ever accomplished. I'm willing to put my career, my livelihood, my flesh, my blood, my bone, my mind, my spirt and MY LIFE on the line to win the 2008 TEAM Invitational, Mike.

Because this is something bigger than me, you, Ravager, Olvir Arsvinnar or any of the 64 men and women to step inside a ring during this tournament. To cut to the point, Mike, victory doesn't just mean everything to YOU, so don't be that short-sighted or arrogant. If anyone thinks they've seen the best of me in this tournament, they haven't seen a DAMN THING yet.

I might not have the reputation of The Wolf, but trust me, Mike, there is NOWHERE I won't go in order to get this win.

You say you won't hesitate to be my career-ender. Wanna know what I say, Mike?

Go. Ahead. And. TRY.

Many have tried before, nobody's succeeded yet. It's not about sacrifice or pride, Mike, it's about the dream of a twelve-year-old kid in a barely refurbished warehouse in Greensboro that's waited twenty years for a moment in the sun.

For you, this is about redeeming and justifying your path and setting a course for the future. For me, this is about completing one journey and starting another, here in TEAM and elsewhere. I've waited a long, long time for the chance at something like this, Mike, and now that I've had a taste, I'm not ready to go home yet.

If you think you've got to end my career, by all means, give it a shot. But, I'm not overlooking you, and I'm not scared of you. I know what you are, and I'm banking it all on the fact that I know how to fight that. Come SuperShow VIII, the whole world will find out who's got the winning hand.

See you at the end of the road.

...FADE TO BLACK

 

[jediPREZ]

Welcome to Mikey's Neighborhood

“I’m not promising to end your career, Troy.”

(FADEIN: An extreme close-up of MIKE RANDALLS’ emerald eyes.)

RANDALLS: “You'll tap first, believe me.”

(The camera pans back to ‘The Wolf’ standing barefoot in the middle of the SUPERSHOW VIII ring of Phillips Arena. TEAM Ringcrew members are setting up tables around ringside as RANDALLS looks up at the rafters displaying the few, but proud Hawks and Thrashers banners. RANDALLS is wearing a black t-shirt with the words “TEAM FINAL 4: This is The Way” in big white letters, while a faded grey image of DUSK tapping out in the Santa Fe Cloverleaf lies directly above it.)

RANDALLS: “Do you honestly think I give a f*ck about anyone you've beat? Just because you've won some secondary titles, I should start rolling out a red carpet for your inauguration to wrestling immortality? (RANDALLS laughs, his eyes hitting the camera) Troy…ANYONE can say they’re not afraid, ANYONE can claim invincibility when convinced through arrogance that defeat is not an inevitability. (RANDALLS' smile fades) But when you feel those tendons start to shred in such agonizing pain that each tearing strip starts sending violent spasms to your brain…YOUR FUTURE will hang in a tightened noose. Caught in the balance is WHATEVER Cyber Intense Intercontinental Championship you've successfully pursued. I’ve left EVERYTHING and EVERYWHERE to focus on THIS trophy, so I’d think as the student of mine...you would fully comprehend what that means with those watching eyes.”

(RANDALLS rolls his neck…then laughs dismissively, shaking his head.)

RANDALLS: Names, names and more names you spit off the top of your head do not prepare you for one single second of the struggle lying ahead. If you want to identify so-called legends as the barometer of something you’re aspiring to in wrestling...then you’re simply NOWHERE near what I've EVER aimed to be.”

(RANDALLS starts pacing around the ring, dusting the mat gently with his toes sporadically...)

RANDALLS: "Maybe that's the difference between myself and most wrestlers that entered this tournament. You all spit these names out, propping up your self-made historical footnotes as a methodology to prove you are capable of winning this tournament...worse yet in our case, you're retelling mine like you've walked a mile of my path on The Way. (RANDALLS smirks) Fifteen years ago, I was 20 years old, Troy...not much older than your pimply high-school fanboy picture, but sure enough I got my start... Yet, almost the same differences lie between ourselves now just as they did back then. You're caught up in the history of this and that, the magnitude of what this match means through your eyes.”

(RANDALLS once again nods in slight disgust)

RANDALLS: Meanwhile, I'm wrestling what's in front of me...not caring about who they are, just that they're THE opponent across the ring. This has been MY Way for fifteen years of time, wrestling one hour...sometimes TWO for whatever I believe is MINE. You can dissect my May through October of '99 or jump to January through April of '03. You can fast-forward, rewind and live through my legacy...the fact is that even if you did wear your 'DEVASTATOR 2.0' t-shirts for my Claimstakers run, you still have failed to realize and recognize that EVERYTHING you and I have done...CEASES to matter once that bell is rung."

(The camera focuses on RANDALLS who stops in the middle of the ring...)

RANDALLS: "Your pride in a MID-LEVEL championship career building up to this match...defining that as faith and the logic of imminent victory only makes me LAUGH. Its as amateur as the image of you watching me wrestle in 1993 as some awed high-school geek in Greensboro. Since the FIRST round of this tournament, I've been saying the exact, same f*cking thing. This tournament...this Chad Merritt Trophy means more than ANYTHING PAST OR PRESENT in my career. The 3,000 miles of video cassette tape we can wrap around your head to whatever championships I could've listed to your magic three...I won't sully the meaning of this ONE, SINGLE MATCH between us and its importance just because you've idolized and seemingly misunderstood me through TV.”

(RANDALLS’ return to the camera after gazing around the arena for a moment.)

RANDALLS: “Let's focus the perspective, Troy...'cause there's a cold, hard truth you've chosen to avoid. The moment we walk that aisle and both stand in this ring...YOU have become INFINITELY more important than Hornet, Guns, The Windhams, Eddy or any other wrestling graveyard headstone's name you memorize, recite or find...COMBINED."

(RANDALLS' face starts creeping into a smile as the camera closes in...)

RANDALLS: “And you strikingly believe that you can TESTIFY to my capabilities? I would hope that you’re not that dumb, Troy. If you are…Olvir would automatically qualify as the third highest IQ in the Final Four.”

(RANDALLS laughs)

RANDALLS: “In my THIRD HANDICAP MATCH IN A ROW…you managed to flash pin me from BEHIND after I nearly broke your Lethal Lottery teammate’s face at TEAM Supershow SIX. Your (RANDALLS quotes the air) LEGENDARY (unquote) partner, Dan Ryan learned a bit …apparently, that night didn’t teach you SH*T. Maybe you should watch that tape over the next few days, but like I’ve been trying to say…it doesn’t matter anyway.”

(RANDALLS’ smile grows and he starts nodding affirmatively)

RANDALLS: “Troy Douglas, may you bring your best because I won’t be expecting ANYTHING less. For fifteen years while I’ve walked the Way, I’ve heard each and every opponent PROMISE me that day after day. I will warn that I’ve prepared for the Scorpion Deathlock and countered it possibly more times than you’ve had the opportunities to apply. And while I don’t need to list the men to describe the proof of what I say, understand that anything you’ve EVER questioned about yourself and where you stand in this sport WILL be answered for yourself in just a couple of days.”

(RANDALLS’ smile fades away, his eyes squinting slightly for a moment…)

RANDALLS: “Every step of my Way has come without fear, whether I’ve fallen as the Phoenix or risen out of my ashes here. Troy, you will be looking me straight in the eye start to finish this time. When I say that your limits will NEVER be tested like they have against any name you could perceive isn’t a debate I think you’ll have with me. You now find yourself in the same shoes you’ve wished to fulfill all your life…standing across the ring from the ONE wrestler that gives up EVERYTHING and ANYTHING in sacrifice to victory.”

(The scene now wholly mimics how it began, the camera completely focused on RANDALLS’ emerald eyes.)

RANDALLS: “Tsunami wasn’t just a name. It was to show you the conviction for my redemption, to display my dedication to act on each word that comes out of my mouth. It was to show you high my mountaintop goes and the fall that will unfold, but I will not deny your dream no matter the nightmares they will hold.”

(RANDALLS closes his eyes for a couple of seconds, they open slowly…)

RANDALLS: “Your moment in the sun will be bright, but at the end the REALITY is cold. The daydreams you’ve had while rolling around in some proverbial meadow will only find themselves shadowed by my will to victory…”

(RANDALLS’ hand reading “NOVA” is raised in front of the camera.)

RANDALLS: “And something that I OWE…”

(RANDALLS lowers his hand…)

RANDALLS: “To YOU, to this SPORT and to EVERYTHING I believe with my soul. You can read between the lines, you can tell me about the crimes up in my mind…but at the end of this long and winding road, you WILL leave…”

(RANDALLS’ eyes close…)

RANDALLS: “Because that is the Way, Troy and TEAM...”

(FADETOBLACK)

“…Is MY home.”

 

[CuseTroy]

FADE IN...

Troy Douglas, sporting a grey Philadelphia Eagles t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, stands in front of a TEAM Final Four banner inside Phillips Arena. Troy wipes some hair away from his eyes, takes a deep breath and looks at the camera with a completely serious expression. Douglas waits, seemingly searching for something to say, scratches his chin for a moment and refocuses himself, finally ready.

TD: Y'know, Mike, for a guy who talks a lot about understanding and knowledge and perspective, you are FRIGHTENINGLY ignorant.

Now, I'm sure you really don't give a damn about the men I've beaten or the men I watched, and I'm sure you really don't think anything I've ever seen or done can prepare me for what'll happen this week in Atlanta, but if you REALLY think that this is a foregone conclusion...

Well, then you've got a hell of another thing coming, Mike. And if you think that you're the only man who this match, this tournament, this trophy means EVERYTHING to, well, let's just say I wouldn't be the ONLY man who couldn't beat everyone's favorite Pornographic Viking at a game of Scrabble.

Although I've heard Mr. Arsvinnar is quite the spelling savant.

You've said plenty of times that TEAM is your home, and that the only thing that matters to you, the only thing driving your career forward at this point, is your Way, your road to the Merritt Trophy. You want this, and you want the man who sits at the end of the rainbow, who holds the title Champion of Champions, even more than that.

I understand what it feels like to be a man without a home, Mike. I know what it feels like to be devoid of any purpose, and what a man can do once he's found one. As much as you might like to say it, I'm neither stupid nor shortsighted, so stop embarassing yourself by saying that I can't possibly understand the gravity of this situation.

Frankly, I've always thought better of you than that, Randalls.

Me? Like you said, I'm a man with commitment after commitment, ping-ponging around this country to get from show to show, company to company. I've got three of those midcard titles that you couldn't give a rat's ass about, and I'm damn proud to wear and defend them around the globe.

Troy looks down, shakes his head, and looks back up at the camera, a slight smile beginning to show on the edges of his mouth.

So, why? Why would I even try to come out here and risk all of that against a man who's made the conquest of this tournament his absolute, singular goal. Why would I subject a badly damaged back and a knee with a brand-new ligament to the man who's used that Santa Fe Cloverleaf to run through the Orlando region with the greaets of ease?

Why would I put at stake everything I've built over an eight year career against a man that many consider to be the most dangerous in the history of professional wrestling?

Maybe I'm stupid, Mike. Then again, maybe not.

Maybe it's because all of those titles, all of those commitments, all of those television appearances, none of them are as important as this. Because two years ago, when I'd been out of the ring and completely out of touch for more than nine months, when not one promoter on the face of the planet would touch me with a 10-foot pole, Jess Chapel gave me a chance to come back and compete at SuperShow I.

So, TEAM's got a bit of meaning to me too, Mike. And, more importantly, that trophy means a culmination of an eight-plus year journey where I've been written off as an afterthought and a never-will-be too ****ing many times. I've spent an entire career being the guy who never came through in the clutch and was never going to get past that one little hump, and I've grown sick and tired of it, Mike.

I've lost the bright-eyed innocence I had when I came into this business. For a long time, I made due with what was given for me. Hell, after being told I might never walk again, I was happy just to be doing SOMETHING with my life.

Eight years and more have gone by and I'm still walking, Randalls. But, I'm no longer content with just hanging around. And if I've got to knock you off your Way in order to cement my name in this industry FOREVER, then that's exactly what I'm going to do.

Try and rip the ligaments from my knee, Mike. Try and pull my arm from its socket, try to assault my back and neck in any way you can, try and knock me into a coma with blow after blow after blow, because you're going to need EVERYTHING you've got to get by me.

You say this tournament is the only thing in your life. I won't dispute that. But, you're not the only man willing to give up anything and everything in pursuit of a victory, and if you think that, then The Way has become even more clouded and contorted than it was while you were sharing mind-altering substances with Nova and Yori on the road to the ULTRATITLE.

You've become absorbed in your own illusions, Mike. You've let yourself believe that this tournament is your destiny, your legacy and your ultimate purpose all rolled up together in a neat, tidy ball. You say this tournament means more than anything in your career, past or present, but you've all-but completely disregarded the man standing across the ring from you as a shortsighted fool.

Because while you might say I'll be the only thing in your universe once I step between those ropes, those four letters etched into your hand tell a completely different story. Everyone's got something in the back of their mind, Mike, and as much as you like to say that the Way has cleared your head, you're still no different from any other man.

The camera zooms in slowly, focusing only on Troy's face, with a serious expression now set in stone.

At the end of the day, Mike, you're still just a man. You're not a Wolf, a Phoenix or any invincible force. You're a man, Mike, and men can be BEATEN.

All it takes is time, effort and guts, and I've banked on those three things for my entire career. You'll get that and plenty more, Mike, because come SuperShow Eight, you will not be getting MY best.

You'll be getting the best in the WORLD. For one night, if that's what I've got to be, than that's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to be better than all those names I listed, and I'm going to do absolutely everything I can to be better than you've ever been before.

It's your purpose, Mike. It's my CHANCE. My chance to finally break down the barrier that's been standing in my way for eight years, and I don't care if God himself is standing in my way, because in the pursuit of this, I'm perfectly ready to meet my maker.

I'm not just prepared to sacrifice everything in pursuit of victory, I WILL sacrifice everything to take one more step, and I'll see where the hell we go from there. If you're the better man, that'll come out inside this arena, Mike. As someone who's watched you for fifteen years, I wasn't surprised for a minute to see you run over fifteen other men on your way to this night, but I guarantee you that the toughest step on The Way will be the penultimate one.

The camera pulls out once again, and Troy rubs his forehead and nods for a moment before refocusing his stare.

Don't think you can't be beaten, Mike. You may not have anything other than this, but you're facing a man who's putting EVERYTHING on the line for this. I'm not just here for show, Mike, I'm here to make sure that in the Final Four, your Way reaches an abrupt and convincing conclusion just short of your ultimate goal.

Last time, I rolled you up in a two-on-one situation. This time, we'll be face to face, and I've got every intention on sending you straight to the end of the road.

Watch your step, Mike. The edge is close, and I'm ready to send you in a freefall.

TEAM is your home, but...

You're about to get ****ing evicted. I've got a dream, and it doesn't involve a meadow or fairies or golden hills or any of that bull****. It involves me spiking your head into the canvas, rolling you onto your back, and cutting off The Way long before you think its time to end.

And I'm not ready for that dream to end, Mike. I've got two more steps before the end of the road. You're just number one. I'll plow you the **** over to get to number two.

And no, Mike, I WON'T tap out first. And when I don't, that little seed of doubt is going to creep into your mind, and when I see my opening, I'm going to drive right through with a damn 18-wheeler.

Believe me.

...FADE OUT

 

[jediPREZ]

The Fall of Troy

“Troy…there are no pretty pictures, this isn’t a pretty world.”

(FADEIN: ‘The Wolf’ MIKE RANDALLS rolling some tape around his right foot, in his private locker room of the Phillips Arena. The camera slowly rises along his body, numerous scars and tattoos providing a tapestry of suicidal and psychological moments in his life. There’s a few candles lit around the room randomly, the camera rests on RANDALLS glaring into the flickering flames, which dance in his emerald eyes.)

RANDALLS: “You can call me an ignorant liar…you can call me a fool for my beliefs…you can call my words illusions that stop me from seeing fractured doubts, ruptured spines and previously torn knees.”

(RANDALLS’ eyes slowly rise towards the camera, staring at it without emotion.)

RANDALLS: “I don’t have those things, Troy…they are apart of your life, not mine...I have too much desire, not enough time nor the wavering mind.”

(RANDALLS snickers and shakes his head as he wraps his other foot.)

RANDALLS: “You’re the one that’s supposed to have studied me over the years, but the more we interact I wonder what you heard with your ears? (RANDALLS tosses the tape to the floor) You talk about and mention your respect, but now that you’re getting some of my business…you want to whine about my perceptions and object?”

(RANDALLS looks back into the camera and sighs…)

RANDALLS: “See, Troy…if it was just about words, the sport would be a Scrabble joke. Year after year, I listen to opponents like yourself blindly take my words out of context, then dissect and resurrect them into deceiving visions that give them broken necks…or if they’re just lucky, they claim they choked. I’m sure you can find those moments on those tapes too, I sure hope you don’t think tapping you out is the ONLY type of victory I’ll pursue.”

(RANDALLS laughs)

RANDALLS: “That was also where the wise man asks if I hadn’t mentioned Olvir’s lack of intelligence, would have you?”

(RANDALLS shakes his head and stands up, then walks over to a table with a mirror in front of it. He stares into it, the reflection of his eyes angle towards the camera watching him.)

RANDALLS: “Whatever truths you claim I escape are just the frustration you do not see my fears. You conjure them with ghosts and legends you’ve never met, you criticize a man’s mindset you’ve supposedly idolized through a television set. Troy, there is no point in memorizing my words in your head...repeating them bears nothing on what lies ahead, nor will that save you in the end.”

(RANDALLS looks down and grabs something on the table…then walks slowly back towards the camera, he stops for a moment looking at his own scarred body…)

RANDALLS: “I have no fears, none that I’ve ever seen…that’s why you watched me, that’s why I am here. All the dreams that you’re preaching, all these conspiracies that you claim…they mean nothing when the bell rings ‘cause I’m fighting as if tomorrow never came.”

(RANDALLS twists over his arms, the camera catching the delta-scarred inner forearms and a slight metallic glimmer in the shadows. RANDALLS stares down at what he’s holding for a moment, then his eyes close and start twitching as the camera pans up…)

RANDALLS: “You can keep talking about the hard roads you ride, it sounds just like a rooster squawking and that’s something I push aside.”

(RANDALLS’ eyes open, a delicate metal clink is heard on the floor.)

RANDALLS: “You’re best off to believe it, Troy, but if you don’t it isn’t sweat off my back. When this match goes off the road and flies over the rails, I’ll still be the one on the tracks and on your trail. We will reach your horizon, but its not about a wolf, or a story about a phoenix rising…”

(RANDALLS raises his hand towards his face and wipes one hand across both cheeks, leaving a war-paint streak of red, dripping blood under both eyes. He then uses one finger to brush a line down his nose.)

RANDALLS: “Its about destiny, desire, heart and determination. Its about pain, stamina, strategy and the stomach for total extermination. You will not break my faith, you will not avoid your fate. This is not about Nova, Yori, the Ultratitle, or whoever you’ve faced on this week’s PRIME Revolution…it’s about Troy Douglas and Mike Randalls in the ring, a match that becomes part of wrestling’s evolution.”

(RANDALLS makes one more streak on each cheek as he gives a creepy smirk and momentarily bulge of the eyes.)

RANDALLS: “It’s not about my legacy or the opportunities you didn’t choose, its not about the regret we found in different ways or the past matches we happened to lose.”

(RANDALLS’ smile fades, the blood keeps trickling slowly…)

RANDALLS: “It’s about which one of us digs deeper into each other’s weaknesses and fears, watching our eyes to know who sees the end is near. I will NEVER question if what I believe is true and once that bell rings…something that simple will become clear to you. This is who I’ve ALWAYS been…from the warehouse in Greensboro to however many minutes tonight it takes to WIN. You have claimed to know this about me, then ridicule me for it…but you constantly remind us of your failures to succeed through the years before this.”

(RANDALLS solemnly shakes his head)

RANDALLS: “That is not the path of Victory or the path of sacrifice.”

(RANDALLS starts walking around the locker room, blowing out candles slowly.)

RANDALLS: “It’s the proof you do not understand what they need…”

(One candle remains as RANDALLS picks it up and walks it over to the camera. He raises his other hand, which shows the newly reopened ‘NOVA’ carving to be the source of blood…)

RANDALLS: “It will lead to your inability to see the light…”

(RANDALLS slowly lowers his hand, while kneeling with the candle as he blows it out. FADETOBLACK.)

“…and more importantly, The Way to win this fight.”

 

[CuseTroy]

The Trojan Horse

"That's the funny thing about context, Mike. No matter who you are, you can make anything in the world look like it's in your favor."

FADE IN...

Troy Douglas sits on a folding chair inside his locker room at Phillips Arena in Atlanta, wearing a TEAM Invitational t-shirt, mesh shorts and flip-flops in advance of changing into his ring gear for his Final Four match with "The Wolf" Mike Randalls. At the moment, Troy is finishing off a tape job on his wrists with his customary scrawling of "LB" on the underside of his left wrist and "JD" on the right. Troy sets the blue Sharpie inside his duffel bag, then raises his stare to camera level.

TD: I never was much for Scrabble, Mike. To be fair, I was never much the indoor, board game type at any point in my life, but Scrabble was one of those games that I always hated. Too much about the luck of the draw, you know?

Sure, you can make moves, know more words than a Scripps National Spelling Bee champ and setup up that huge, seven-letter triple word score, but in the end, it's all about the tiles you grab blindly from a pile. It's all about randomness, and I've dealt with enough unexpected outcomes for one damn lifetime.

I always preferred the kind of game we get to play, Mike. Two men, one ring, nobody to get between us, no outside factors unexpectedly changing the rules halfway through. The better man wins, and that's that.

And when we get in that ring in the Final Four, that's exactly what we're going to find out, Randalls. We're going to find out whether The Way continues on to its ultimate conclusion, or whether I send you careening head first to the End of the Road. And in the end, we're not going to know a damn thing until each of us steps in between those ropes and the referee unleashes us.

I've been waiting for that kind of moment for my entire LIFE, Mike. Thirty-two years have all come together and led me to my chance at glory, and if you think that I haven't learned from a lifetime of both success and failure, if you think I can't follow my own Way to victory and see my own light at the end of the tunnel, then you really have let your Way completely rob you of peripheral vision.

Because the thing about only looking forward, Mike, is that you'll never see it coming when someone comes up from behind you and proceeds to knock you for a loop. And that's what I'm planning to do to you, Randalls. Every minute, every second, every tiny flash of a moment that we're in that ring together, I will not stop coming at you.

I will pursue every option, every alley, every possibly way I can in order to put you down, Mike. And, if at the end of the night, you're the better man, if at the end of the night you can put me down for three seconds, submit me or knock me into next month, then that's what happens. But, I won't have any regrets, Mike, and if you manage to be the one to stop me, trust me when I say that you will be far, far worse off then when you stepped into the ring.

Troy steps up from his chair and walks to the door, closes it and leans against it, trying to stay calm and comfortable.

TD: But, if I win, Mike, it won't be a fluke. It won't be because I'm lucky or because of the law of averages or because every blind squirrel eventually finds a nut. It'll be because I pushed you to your limit and beyond, because I took every bullet in your arsenal and kept coming back, because I am the BETTER MAN.

And I'm going to give everything I've got in pursuit of that, Mike. In pursuit of THAT MOMENT, I will give of my body, my mind and my spirit absolutely everything that I have.

If that's not the way of sacrifice and the way of victory, Mike, then I have no idea whatsoever what it is. From this moment, until the moment that bell rings, you are everything that exists in my life, Mike.

There's no PRIME, EPW, A1E, CSWA, NFW, TEAM or Merritt Trophy. Just me and you in the purest test of a man's heart, his strength, his resolve and his will to win that the human race can ever know.

And if you think that your victory is a certainty under those conditions, then either you really ARE the greatest to ever step into the squared circle, or the last few years of your life have given you a SERIOUSLY overinflated opinion of yourself.

When I look into your eyes, I'm sure I'll find out. But, even if you are that good, Mike, even if I'm fighting against all hope, I will not stop fighting. I will not stop trying. Because NOTHING means more to me than this. Nothing means more to me than this match, and the one I'm praying is sitting right in my future.

If victory's so certain in your mind, Mike, be prepared for it to be a Pyrrhic victory of legendary proportions. If you manage to move on, by the end of the night you're going to be WISHING that you were a Persian soldier who'd just gone through Thermopylae. I'm preparing for the exact same thing, Mike.

I might not have anything left in the tank by the time that bell rings, but if it means I'm standing on my own two feet with my hand raised, then it'll ALL be worth it. I've failed before, and if I ever meet a man that says he hasn't, than I've met a man who'll flunk his next test so spectacularly they send him back to preschool.

But, I've learned from my failures, Mike. I've adapted, I've grown, and I am better than ever.

Troy shifts against the wall, crossing his arms across his chest. He rotates his right wrist so that the "JD" inscription is clearly visible.

TD: My father was a wise, wise man, Randalls. I've learned that following his advice has always been a pretty good idea, and even though he's been gone for more than five years now, his words have never once steered me wrong.

Everything I've done, it's been to follow his Way, his path to victory. Worked for him, so I don't see why the hell it can't work for me.

We've each got two steps left to make to reach the top of the mountain, Mike. Problem is, for either of us to take the next one, we've got to send the other man tumbling off Everest with out the hope of either a net or a parachute. One of us goes headfirst into the rocks below at a million miles an hour, and the other gets to dig in for one last battle.

I won't stop until we found out who's who, Mike.

Your Way and my Road, they're about to collide. I'm banking everything I've got on the hope that I can be the last man standing. I've made a career of it for eight years, and I've made a life of it for nearly 32.

Besides, I've got just a week until that 32nd birthday rolls around, and I'm looking for an early present. A trip to the TEAM Invitational Finals is EXACTLY what I was hoping for, and I'm not ready for you to spoil this early birthday party.

Talking's over, Mike. Let's go.

...FADE OUT

 

[jediPREZ]

Where we're going...there are no roads

“Troy, this is no illusion. This is your EXIT.”

(FADEIN: The fading echoes of Chris Cornell’s “You Know My Name” are just finishing in Phillips Arena. ‘The Wolf’ MIKE RANDALLS is walking along the corridors of the backstage area as TEAM officials and cameras follow him towards the guerrilla position. He’s shirtless, barefoot, wearing black drawstring pants with a Japanese caricature of a Wolf going down his right leg and his hair is slightly hanging in front of his face…which still has the blood streaks from previously…as the music finally cuts chants of ”RANNNNNNDALLS! RANNNNNNNDALLS!” start reverberating.)

RANDALLS: “No matter how many names, numbers and family members you want to dredge up as the support for your damaged backbone, I want you to know that TRUE sacrifice, TRUE victory doesn’t lie in your own selfish motivations, your end of the road in life nor your visions of personal glory. When you look out into the crowd and when you look straight into my eyes, you will see that everything you THINK defines your destiny will not save you from MINE.”

”RANNNNNNDALLS! RANNNNNNNDALLS!”

(RANDALLS slightly brushes his hair away from his face, revealing his emerald eyes extremely focused on whatever is in front of him…not the cameras revolving around him trying to get a better shot, or the flashes flickering around him.)

RANDALLS: “We can talk about your mother that died from your childbirth or my father who was murdered before mine. You can cry and tell me how much your father loved you for 32 years, while I can vengefully recall how my stepfather beat me as my mother just watched in tears…knowing she was next to feel his pain. The difference is that I realized long ago it doesn’t serve this sport to fight under dark clouds with fistfuls of rain.”

(RANDALLS laughs)

RANDALLS: “See, I’m not going to duel you in a game of false judgments, I won’t deceive the ears of these people chanting my name. I’m certainly not going to dig up the graves of my family to prove what I say. I’m not going to advertise a full list of accomplishments, family trees and heralded rosters, so you believe what I perceive…for me Troy, that happens IN the ring.”

(RANDALLS starts jumping in place, the chants getting louder…)

RANDALLS: “Your wrestling career of 8 years and 32 years of life won’t find my pity, even as much you condemn me as a shortsighted fool. Just remember that in the years of mine, the words you’re trying are thoughts I’ve heard from wrestlers much more revered than you. They felt they were OWED this moment because too many years had passed them by too. They’d list everything from their titles to opponents and in true moments of denigrating desperation, an important family member who died. Unfortunately, Troy these biographical celebrations mean nothing in my eyes, they’re merely a glass house of history waiting for an avalanche in three seconds of time.”

(RANDALLS keeps jumping, rolling his neck and smirking…)

RANDALLS: “It’s why I AM considered one of the GREATEST of all-time, something you’ve MAGICALLY managed to forget you believed in less than 7 days of time. You should not be questioning whether I’m prepared for whatever peripheral attack or sanctimonious strategy you’ve conceived, you were the one professing to have studied fifteen years of one of wrestling’s GREATEST legacies. (laughs) Now you’re reaching for mythologies and stories of Sparta dramatized by Hollywood to place on MY mountaintop of victories, but once that bell rings and this match is over…all I care is about my arm raised and being one match closer. That is the Way, Troy…and that’s how the mountain grows.”

(RANDALLS’ eyes open and he halts, everyone stopping around him as they start murmuring…)

RANDALLS: “I do anticipate how far you can climb, Troy and I will embrace your energy, resolve and internal firepower so long as you can stand and look me in the eye. When that moment comes where you feel that tank painstakingly empty, falling to your knees in exhaustion you’ll realize that the moments you should have won for your father were while he could SEE...not as words to intimidate me. There are no guardian angels at the End of the Road, Troy…”

(Suddenly, RANDALLS slams his hand on a door…the cameras turn and see that it’s NOVA’s…RANDALLS removes his hand, leaving his own stamped nameplate. The cameras refocus on RANDALLS as he starts to smile. ”In My Time of Dying” – Led Zeppelin blasts throughout Phillips Arena to a crowd explosion! RANDALLS’ head turns in notice, he turns and starts walking with the cameramen hurrying to keep up with him…)

RANDALLS: “There is no trophy or consolation, just your choice to stay in a hole. A place to blame the turns you didn’t see, or lament the ones you’ll regret until you’re dead. Troy, tonight you shall learn my road won’t finish with your dust hitting the pavement…”

”RANNNNNNDALLS! RANNNNNNNDALLS!”

(FADETOBLACK as RANDALLS reaches the guerilla position, TEAM officials pulling back the curtains and revealing a pitch-black Phillips Arena swirling with strobe lights and rabid fans!)

”… The Way didn’t need roads when it began.”