The Descent - prologue

[jayshort]

This is the part that the viewers at home don’t get to see. As surprising as it may be to most, when your television screen fades to black and the camera stop rolling, the show goes on. The wrestlers are still in pain, and the emotional tension continues to plague you. <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comfficeffice" /><o></o>
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The scene opened up where it had last ended. <o></o>
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EPW World Heavyweight Champion, Sean ‘Triple X’ Stevens, at the top of his most deadly weapon – a steel cage – staring in disbelief. In his hands were three of Ice Tre’s faux platinum chains, drenched in his and Tre’s own blood. The crowd continued to scream until their lungs were sore, because, well … that’s what mindless drones do. You do as you’re told. You go through life reading Teleprompters, and when The Man tells you to clap, you clap. When he tells you to smile, you smile. Every now and then, he’ll decide to play a cruel joke, just to see how far he can take you … to see how dim-witted you are. To see how much common sense you actually lack. <o></o>

Take Ice Tre for example. <o></o>
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Ever since he stepped foot in Empire Pro Wrestling he’s been a constant thorn in Sean’s side, but even more than that, he’s been a brainless imbecile. He has no talent, he has no heart, and he has no business in a wrestling ring. But, because he’s marketed as fun loving, and talks like Vanilla Ice, he’s showered with deafening cheers. Meanwhile, Sean Stevens – a man that, on more than one occasion, has put his life on the line to entertain the fans has to climb down the cage of a match that he dominated to taunts, and jeers. <o></o>
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“Sh*t,” he mumbled, as he leaped down the remaining three feet of the cage, clutching his right hand. It was starting to swell up like a balloon. Sean tried shaking it, something just didn’t feel right, it was as if something had popped out of place. <o></o>
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“Give me my f_cking title!” he commanded, snatching his EPW title out of the referee’s hand, threatening to punch him with his good hand. “Where is my crown?”<o></o>
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The referee stood there, twiddling his thumbs, looking dumbfounded. “I … uhh … awarded it to Ice Tre.” <o></o>
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Stevens took an aggressive step in the referee’s direction, “You did what with my crown?” <o></o>
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“I … I … thought Ice Tre won it, as a result of his win tonight,” he stuttered, before hitting the canvas hard as a result of the right cross Triple X swung, that connected to his jaw. <o></o>
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The boos continued as Sean slung the belt over his shoulder, continuing up the ramp, and through the curtain.

 

[jayshort]

OOC: This was already posted in the Adam Benjamin/Triple X thread. But, it fits more here, and this is where I'll continue this story so it had to be posted. This is nothing new, carry on.
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"We have a serious problem on our hands, Sean."

"I know."

The Descent, continued.

"... One that needs to be addressed immediately."

"You think *I* don't know that, Greg?"

Triple X sat at the operating table, his right hand being wrapped in a bulky, white cast -- the culmination of punching a steel cage, a chair, and a referee, all with the same hand. By his side, Greg Vaughn -- the man who gave him his start, the man who keeps him grounded, his advisor, a father-like figure, and friend.

"Are you prepared to deal with it, son?" the weathered old man asked, looking on, as Stevens winced in pain. His hand had blown up tremendously in the day since he was last seen on television. The doctor continued wrapping it tight, too tight for Sean's taste, but whatever he needed to do to get back to top form, he'd do it.

"That depends," Sean responded. "Are you finally going to help me?" asked the champ.

Greg was a cagey old former promoter, who had a lot of knowledge about the business. When Sean was a teen, he made the mistake of leaping over one of his guardrails, and interfering with one of Greg's wrestlers -- who had been heckling him -- and got locked up. Greg saw potential in the troubled young man -- or it could've been the thunderous pop Sean received that night, and the smell of potential money to be made. Details and motives aside, he not only bailed him out of jail, he offered him a job.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Sean went on to become Greg's most successful student, by far. Greg went on to other, less successful business ventures before finally calling it quits in the year two thousand. He made enough money through the business to settle down, or so he thought. But, when things got tough for him financially, his most successful worker scooped him up, put him on the payroll, and, that's where he's been ever since. Sean is his son, there is nothing in this world that he wouldn't do for him, so the fact alone that he had to ask was ridiculous in Greg's eyes.

"Help you? ... you even have to ask that, young fella?"

Trip scratched his head, nervously. "I ... I honestly didn't know how you'd react to it. I mean, how do you ask somebody for--"

"--help?" Greg interrupted. "Son, you're the most talented wrestler I've ever had the priveledge of tutoring. You've got all the skills, but your pride," he shook his head, simultaneously twisting his face, as if he were sucking on a sour lemon. "... it could easily be your downfall. If you need help, I'm here for you. I've always been here for you!"

"Thanks, Greg. So, where do we start?"

"From scratch. We've gotta see what people in your position in the past have done wrong. We've gotta learn from our own mistakes."

Trip nodded. "Great idea, I've also gotta keep the media out of this, they'll have a field day."

Vaughn's right eyebrow shot to the top of his forehead, looking on in confusion. "I guess that's one way of looking at it. But, I was thinking, we typically have a week or so in between Aggressions, if we cancel out all of your other obligations to other promotions--"

Trip smiled, "Smart man. Less to do, more time to focus! I like it!"

"--watch some footage," Vaughn continued. "Take some notes--"

"Hell yeah," the champ retorted. "I'll be a step ahead of the rest of the competition. Before anybody knows it, I'm in there, and out."

Greg paused, "... In and out of ... where?" he said, beginning to question Sean's motives.

Stevens swallowed hard, "Great plan," he said, ignoring his friend's question, simultaneously extending his hand.

"Are we on the same page? What plan are you talking about?" he asked.

"What were you talking about," Trip responded.

"Just answer the question, kiddo," you could hear Vaughn's frustration.

Trip swallowed hard, "Sexual Relations with Colbie Caillat."

"COLBIE CAILLAT!" Vaughn screamed, as drops of spit flew out of his mouth landing in Stevens' face.

Triple X wiped his face, "I ... I had been trying to get into contact with her for months. Ivy's been checking my phone and all types of sh!t. The gossip mag's have been eating me alive. I've been trying to meet and ... greet her ever since I heard that freaking song of hers. I thought you knew!"

Greg's temple was throbbing. "You thought I..." Realizing he was on the verge of screaming at the top of his lungs, and that there was a doctor inside of the room, he lowered his voice. "Sean, your wrist is fractured. You have lost your last three matches! THREE! I'm talking about waking you up! Fixing the broken stuff before it costs you your title! You don't have time for another woman in your life. You've worked so hard--"

"You mean to tell me you're concerned about ... wrestling?"

"YES!" Vaughn bellowed.

"Greg, seriously ... I lost two cage matches, and a DQ. Nobody pinned my shoulders to the mat. And, how many of those events were EPW events?"

"The one against Tre, but that's beside the point. The cage match is YOUR match. The cage match is the match that GOT you the EPW title!"

"... and, the cage match is the match that's got my hand all f'cked up, too! Let me ask you a question ... what does TEAM stand for?"

Greg paused, "TEAM is a promotion where people from all circuits come to compete for one main trophy or title."

"Yeah," Stevens responded. "But, what does it stand for. What does tee eey aye emm mean."

The old man was stumped, "Umm ... I'm not entirely sure."

Sean smirked, "Exactly. F_CK TEAM! You think I give a flying f_ck about a piece of sh_t promotion that, even if my life depended, I couldn't tell you off the top of my head who ran it? That place is a political playground, designed to feed the ego of Dan, Lindsay, and all of the members of the '01 'Nostalgia Tour'. I curse too much, I don't pay enough homage, and I'm too disrespectful to ever be successful there. And, that's fine with me. Beast didn't win that match because he was better than me, he won that match because everybody was against me. Johnny Nobody could've been in that match and I would've lost."

"I'm sure," was all Vaughn could come up with. "But, what about here? For God sakes, Sean. You lost to Ice Tre! Not only that, he's got your--"

"-- I'm working on that. But, outside of that ... what else does he have of mine?"


"What else does he need, Sean! He's got all of the leverage!"

The doctor had finished wrapping his hand minutes ago, Sean and Greg -- in the heat of conversation -- never noticed. Trip pulled a duffle bag on the table, and pulled out the EPW World Heavyweight Championship.

"Until they have this, they've got NOTHING. That crown is nice, and I *will* get it back, but as long as I'm The Champ, Tre, Rocko, Hiroshi, and JA are all chasing me. And, they know that."

Greg slaps his forehead, "What am I going to do with you, young fella?"

"You can start by getting me Colbie's number," he said, smiling, slyly.

"Let's start by making sure you're comfortable wrestling with that thing on your arm, because it looks like it'll be there for awhile."

"... I guess so."

The two got up, and exited the operating room for checkout.