Troy Versus The World

[GreggG]

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, standing on a balcony overlooking New York City's Central Park West, one of the most elite zip codes in all of the world. Troy is standing on the balcony, wearing a coudorouy suit jacket over a Hollister T-shirt, holding the CSWA Unified Title, his custom-made belt with the light up sign reading E-P-I-T-O-M-E.)

TROY: So I just saw on DirectTv Channel 654 a major announcement about the CSWA. Seems that I once again rubbed someone the wrong way. WOOPS. Steve Thomas got upset that a few weeks ago I said I would not face Dan Ryan or my brother Mark in a rematch for the title. He's upset that I'm throwing my weight around, so he came up with a new concept for the match... a five-ring battle royale, with me the man everyone's gunning for.

Thomas thinks I'm supposed to be pissed about this? Upset? Upset that countless men are going to be gunning for me? How many folks are lined up for this? 30 men? 40? 100? All of whom want to get in a wrestling ring with me in an attempt to take this title. (Troy holds up The Big Gold.)

Well, Thomas, I'm not upset... because you just played yourself right into my hands. Twelve years ago, when I made my professional wrestling debut, I told the world that I was going to be the biggest star this sport has ever seen. I told everyone that all of the big names... GUNS, Eli Flair, Mike Randalls, Alexander Karelin, Degadeath... and even my brother Mark... and this league's franchise player, Hornet... would one day be FORCED ASIDE so Troy Windham would take his spot as the de facto GREATEST WRESTLER IN THE HISTORY OF THIS INDUSTRY. Everyone laughed at me, everyone told me that I was crazy... and then I went out and did everything that I said I was going to do.

I told you all that I was going to have my name listed on the marquee outside every wrestling arena in this country. I did just that.

I told you all that I was going to become the richest man in this sport. My bank account says it all. I did just that.

I told you all that I was going to be a mainstream star with crossover appeal, my name on movie posters and at the end of TV shows with executive producer credits. I did just that.

I told you all that I was going to win this title and bring it to heights never seen. I am the one who saved this league nearly ten years ago, the man who defeated GUNS, the man Hornet could never beat. And I am the man who took the CSWA Unified Title and brought it to a new entertainment venue, the man whose face was used to launch www.fwrestling.com, the greatest start-up venture this industry has ever seen. I did exactly as I said I would.

Look at what I've done the past two years. I've buried men under the American flag. I've peed in people's faces. I stowedaway on a cruise ship, hiding amongst the luggage, just to put my brother and Dan Ryan in his place. I married the EPW World Champion against her will.

I've done whatever I wanted. I've done whatever I said I was going to do.

And now I'm saying something else.

This is an open challenge to everyone in the world. Come one, come all. Step right up and get a shot at Troy Windham. The Epitome. The best damn wrestler on this planet today.

Because I'm saying something else right now.

I'm going to beat each and every single one of you that night. And then I'm joining the likes of Michael, Muhammed, Lance and Pele.

That is the night where my greatest achievement will be accomplished. That is the night when I show, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am the greatest wrestler who has ever lived.

That is the night where it will be Troy Windham Versus The World.

And the world ain't gonna win.

(FTB)

 

[bucknaked]

(Sunday night in Indianapolis, just after EUWC Main Frame has gone off the air. Buck Naked is sitting in the locker room with a cold beer in one hand. When a P.A. enters with a videotape)

P.A.: Samuel said you might want to see this.

(Samuel pops in the tape and listens to the announcement. He grabs a chair and sits down. Once the tape is over he looks inside the envelope and pulls out what looks like a contract.)

Buck: Open contract, open invitation, world title opportunity. Don't these boneheads watch T.V.

Steve Thomas, proud owner, GM, booker, whatever of the CSWA has decided to open up Pandora's box to see how fast the first snake bites. A five ring battle royale to find a man to take out his "champion" Troy Windham. YAWN....

In an open letter to the CSWA and the probable dozens of competitors I will face in this match, allow me to introduce myself.

From Las Vegas, Nevada, weighing in at 303 pounds, 6-time former World Heavyweight Champion for 3 different companies, Buck Naked.

Over the past 7 years, I have gone from Toronto to Thailand. I've main evented Miami to Moscow. If you have seen a sold out arena, I will pretty much guarantee that I was main eventing that card. From 2001 to 2003, Jordan Lockhart and I brutalized each other in a feud that won the 2002 Feud of the Year.

Iron man matches, Hell In a Cell matches, Inferno matches, Scaffold matches....

I have made millions myself, and I have made millions famous. I took an 18 month sabbatical and I came back leaner, meaner and better than ever.

With me, I use to let it be about the long winded promos, with the never ending stream of sexual innuendos. I let my words take away from the actions.

Not any more.

August 27th, I will make my debut in the CSWA. And like the Pirates of the Caribbean, I will make history in my first night.

5-rings, one match, the Gold Rush.

Roll the dice and take your chance boys, something tells me you are all in for a REALLY, REALLY bad night. Now piss off, I got something waiting for me at the hotel.

(Our cameras head out the door as we catch a glimpse of Buck heading into the showers.)

 

[GreggG]

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, smirking, holding his title, with NYC backdropped behind him.)

TROY: Buck Naked, pleased to meet your acquaintance. Glad to see you namedropped a bunch of leagues I've never heard of, a bunch of leagues whose owners would hand away their children into slavery just to have me show up on one card. Also glad to see that someone has chumped "PowerMaster" for the most retarded name in professional wresting. Since you were the first person to DARE respond to the man who stirs the drink, I'm going to see to it personally that your ass gets dumped on a concrete floor and that you go back to sitting on an orange crate on some street corner, hoping that motorists give you change for a job well done scrubbing their windshields of dirt.

$25,000 to the guy who dumps this moron out of my ring.

 

[Yran]

“Enter the World”

“Enter the World”

The camera opened on the sight of Kevin Kenwright yawning as he sat at a diagonal angle to the camera. “Sorry,” Kevin apologised before adding “I’ve had to sit through Troy Windham promos all day” with a smile.

Kevin was sitting in a completely black room. The floor was black. The walls were black. The ceiling was black. A window up at the left of the camera was open and the sun shone down on KKK, engulfing his pearly white suit in sunlight. Kevin’s infamous smile was on shown as he hunched forward in his seat.​

“Sorry Troy, you just should like every guy that ever came along in the mid-90s and I should know. I studied you all, trying to make my myself different. Trying to make myself unique. Making sure I have that extra factor. And you now what that is Mr. Windham… I back up my claims.”​

Kevin sat back in the chair. “I know. I referred to you as Mr. Windham. I respect the past. And that’s all I can call you.”​

Kevin adjusted his left sleeve as he spoke. “Troy Windham… You were the man in 1997. Right now, you’re past it and sadly you’re waiting for the next superstar to come along and teach you that. You’re very much like the CSWA as a whole. Eight or nine years ago you were the star. You were the people I idolised. You were the people I wanted to be. But right now… You all need saved. You all need someone to come along and drag CSWA into the new era. The CSWA is crying out for someone to take the bull by the horns and introduce the great CSWA to a brand new age. The CSWA is crying out for someone me… Kevin Kassidy Kenwright.”​

Kevin smirked as he introduced himself. “Look around the wrestling world Troy. Who is the man on everyone lips? Who is the man that everyone can’t help but talk about? Who is the centre of every debate in every wrestling forum, on every coffee break, at every live show? Its not “The Epitome” Troy Windham… It’s not anyone in CSWA for heaven’s sake. It’s me. I cause debate because I’m brilliant. I’m the purist, most perfect all-rounder in the world. Ask CSWA’s latest signing Scott Riktor… He’s seen me in action.”​

Kevin leaned forward again, looking straight at the camera. “Hell ask anyone who is on this planet. I’m more widely known that Coca-Cola. I’m the man to save this federation and to save the credibility of that belt you are tarnishing. No matter what I say, people can only complain about it. There is no comeback as everyone knows I back it up… And when we get to Coming of Age. The CSWA will finally return to it’s superpower status with at the helm.”​

Kevin flashed a smile again as he let his words linger in the air before continuing.​

“Now Troy, I know you’ll try to ramble on about your history and blah, blah, blah… I’ve watched you use stupid one-liners and little jokes on all the competitors in the match, but WHERE was your mention of me? Oh wait, there was none. Why was that? Oh no wait… Let me predict your comeback…”​

Kevin quickly sprang from his seat and ran out of camera. He quickly returned sporting a dodgy Troy Windham style wig and carrying a replica CSWA UNIFIED Belt. As Kevin spoke he slightly lowered his voice and tried to sound manly, “Err… Hey kid… I didn’t, err… mention you… because… I err, don’t care… err, who you… err, are. I was… err, I was… err, I won titles before you… were out of, err, diapers… err… err!”​

Kevin smirked and quickly tossed the wig to the side. “You see Troy. Job done. Just hand over the belt now. And I’ll let you go easy… Oh no, wait…”​

Kevin dived after the wig and placed it back on his head, before sitting back up on the chair. “But just in case, err… You err, turn out to be as, err good err, as you err, turn out to be as good as you, err say… Which is most defiantly the case… I’m going to put a bounty on your head, err, so that the guys that are broke in this match, err, see you as a meal ticket… okay, err… $1,000,000 to the man, err, to eliminate KKK…”​

Kevin flashed his smile again and discarded the wig for the second time. “Now, if I’m not mistaken,” Kevin continued, returning to his own voice, “I’ve just replicated every promo you have tried already for this match. You’re man on the way down Troy. That I can guarantee… But hey, that’s not my fault. I blame my breeding!”​

Kevin flashed his pearly white teeth again as the camera slowly faded… to… black.​

​

​

​

 

[GreggG]

Re: “Enter the World”

“Enter the World”

The camera opened on the sight of Kevin Kenwright yawning as he sat at a diagonal angle to the camera. “Sorry,” Kevin apologised before adding “I’ve had to sit through Troy Windham promos all day” with a smile.

Kevin was sitting in a completely black room. The floor was black. The walls were black. The ceiling was black. A window up at the left of the camera was open and the sun shone down on KKK, engulfing his pearly white suit in sunlight. Kevin’s infamous smile was on shown as he hunched forward in his seat.​

“Sorry Troy, you just should like every guy that ever came along in the mid-90s and I should know. I studied you all, trying to make my myself different. Trying to make myself unique. Making sure I have that extra factor. And you now what that is Mr. Windham… I back up my claims.”​

Kevin sat back in the chair. “I know. I referred to you as Mr. Windham. I respect the past. And that’s all I can call you.”​

Kevin adjusted his left sleeve as he spoke. “Troy Windham… You were the man in 1997. Right now, you’re past it and sadly you’re waiting for the next superstar to come along and teach you that. You’re very much like the CSWA as a whole. Eight or nine years ago you were the star. You were the people I idolised. You were the people I wanted to be. But right now… You all need saved. You all need someone to come along and drag CSWA into the new era. The CSWA is crying out for someone to take the bull by the horns and introduce the great CSWA to a brand new age. The CSWA is crying out for someone me… Kevin Kassidy Kenwright.”​

Kevin smirked as he introduced himself. “Look around the wrestling world Troy. Who is the man on everyone lips? Who is the man that everyone can’t help but talk about? Who is the centre of every debate in every wrestling forum, on every coffee break, at every live show? Its not “The Epitome” Troy Windham… It’s not anyone in CSWA for heaven’s sake. It’s me. I cause debate because I’m brilliant. I’m the purist, most perfect all-rounder in the world. Ask CSWA’s latest signing Scott Riktor… He’s seen me in action.”​

Kevin leaned forward again, looking straight at the camera. “Hell ask anyone who is on this planet. I’m more widely known that Coca-Cola. I’m the man to save this federation and to save the credibility of that belt you are tarnishing. No matter what I say, people can only complain about it. There is no comeback as everyone knows I back it up… And when we get to Coming of Age. The CSWA will finally return to it’s superpower status with at the helm.”​

Kevin flashed a smile again as he let his words linger in the air before continuing.​

“Now Troy, I know you’ll try to ramble on about your history and blah, blah, blah… I’ve watched you use stupid one-liners and little jokes on all the competitors in the match, but WHERE was your mention of me? Oh wait, there was none. Why was that? Oh no wait… Let me predict your comeback…”​

Kevin quickly sprang from his seat and ran out of camera. He quickly returned sporting a dodgy Troy Windham style wig and carrying a replica CSWA UNIFIED Belt. As Kevin spoke he slightly lowered his voice and tried to sound manly, “Err… Hey kid… I didn’t, err… mention you… because… I err, don’t care… err, who you… err, are. I was… err, I was… err, I won titles before you… were out of, err, diapers… err… err!”​

Kevin smirked and quickly tossed the wig to the side. “You see Troy. Job done. Just hand over the belt now. And I’ll let you go easy… Oh no, wait…”​

Kevin dived after the wig and placed it back on his head, before sitting back up on the chair. “But just in case, err… You err, turn out to be as, err good err, as you err, turn out to be as good as you, err say… Which is most defiantly the case… I’m going to put a bounty on your head, err, so that the guys that are broke in this match, err, see you as a meal ticket… okay, err… $1,000,000 to the man, err, to eliminate KKK…”​

Kevin flashed his smile again and discarded the wig for the second time. “Now, if I’m not mistaken,” Kevin continued, returning to his own voice, “I’ve just replicated every promo you have tried already for this match. You’re man on the way down Troy. That I can guarantee… But hey, that’s not my fault. I blame my breeding!”​

Kevin flashed his pearly white teeth again as the camera slowly faded… to… black.​

​

​

​

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, with the backdrop of New York City behind him. Troy holds up the CSWA Unified Title.)

TROY: Oh, so some no-name wants to name drop and act like he's a somebody? Think you're cute, thinking you can pinpoint how I roll? Son, you haven't even BEGUN to see what I'm capable of. So far, this is nothing more than child's play. Check your tapes from 1997. 1998. 1999. 2000. 2001. 2002. 2003. 2004. 2005. And the past seven months. You'll find that no wrestler alive has done what I've done. I've won more titles then most people have days in their lives, and I've had double that number in women. I'm a presence in Hollywood and a damn-near DICTATOR in this industry. I don't know what promotion you come from, but everyone damn knows that it isn't worth 1/100th that the CSWA is. THis is the promotion that STARTED this industry. This is the promotion that has made every star worth its weight in this industry. This title (Troy taps it and holds it up) is the ONLY title in this sport that matters. You can go ahead and say otherwise, pal, but you wouldn't be here fighting for this if you didn't agree. You're not somebody in this sport until you do something in the CSWA, and the entire wrestling world KNOWS that.

And guess what? I've had this title on two separate occasions, something only a handful of people can claim. The only reason I haven't had it more is because I chose to fight other battles which cemented my spot in wrestling lore. I've been in the Match of the Year every year this DECADE. Every promotion in this sport -- including whatever rotted-out hellhole you come from -- would do anything to have me just mention its name.

I have this title and I will never let this go. Do you know why this is? BECAUSE IT IS MY DESTINY TO GO DOWN AS THE GREATEST WRESTLER WHO HAS EVER LIVED. I am Michael Jordan, Babe Ruth, Lance Armstrong... The Crown Jewel of Professional Wrestling. I am a man who is known by only one name, because this is the Age of Troy. And now it's Troy Versus The World... and the world ain't gonna win.

 

[eron]

“Oh look… a charity event.”

The loud smacking of heavy weights clanking together as someone set up their bench press echoed through the fitness center. Grunts and growls accompanied the clash of unpolished metal, the sounds of physically self-conscious weight lifters pushing their body to the limit to become stronger, and look stronger. The taupe coloured walls gave an aura of comfort around what was pretty much a warzone against the human body. Away from the commotion were some simple tables set up for people just done their work out or looking for a break, complete with a juicer and a Wi-Fi connection.

Sitting at one of the tables with his feet up, was a red haired firebrand, wearing an ash grey hooded jacket and black Adidas track pants. This particular man was Eron the Relentless, who had just showered and completed his workout. Training at Lifestyles Fitness in Marietta, Georgia, Eron had now some time to sit and relax, still loathing the jet lag that raced through his body. It was two weeks ago, but the trip from Germany to America did a number on his bones. The flights had been catching up to him, and he was considering now taking the train instead of the air for his travelling. At least until returning overseas. With his feet up on the rounded table, much like you would find in an Ikea superstore, Eron checked his e-mail with dissipating interest, also clicking over to a pro wrestling message board where people tried to argue the “professional wrestling merits” of Mike Bear, and whether that psycho deserved to be in a Pro Wrestling Hall of Fame. Eron found amusement in this, replying under fake, anonymous names and revealing true stories of Mike Bear’s bizarre split personality, and how it wasn’t so much a gimmick, but actually who he was.

What caught Eron’s attention was an e-mail from Stephen Thomas, Chairman of CS Enterprises. A Gold Rush Tournament, where you can strike it rich in a heavy way: A title shot for the CSWA Unified Title. To many, it was an opportunity of a lifetime. To Eron, it was another worthless North American event to waste his time on before going back to Europe.

“I can’t believe they are grasping at straws in needing some sort of draw to their silly little event. They must have thought everyone believed CSWA closed down so they had to do something to remind people. I guess I’m a good place to start.”

Yawning, Eron continued down the e-mail, reading the seething undertone that Stephen Thomas placed under any mention of Troy Windham as his CSWA Unified Champion. The e-mail was beginning to interest the Relentless One.

“Ah, Troy Windham. I have to admit, I respect the guy. He’s what, 72? The Sean Connery of Professional Wrestling? The guy has been on top forever, just beating down every 68 year old he has had to wrestle again in fourteen thousand matches over the last century. I gotta respect that. Actually…” Eron stopped, his eyes looking up in the ceiling, feigning deep thought. “Am I mixing up all of the Windham’s who run amok in CSWA history and putting them all together? Probably. Who is Troy Windham again?”

With another yawn, and a sip of his mixture of whey protein and mango fruit, Eron decided to look up CSWAwrestling.com to see exactly who he was dealing with. A quick scan of the profile, and Eron’s memory was quickly jogged.

“Ah, yes. King of the Slackers. The Epitome! He used to be Mr. Youth Gone Wild, and now he’s just an Eighties hairband special. I do have respect for this man. Anyone who doesn’t lose their mind having to whip around rhetorical jokes like Joey Melton, High Flyer and Kevin Powers just has to have something respectful about him. Then again, maybe he has lost his mind, because he seems to enjoy the idea of several wrestlers with probably a lot of chips on their shoulders ready to waltz in and rob him of his CSWA Unified Championship. Or maybe… just maybe…”

Grinning, Eron put his finger onto his mouse pad on the laptop, moving the pointer to click on “reply” on the e-mail. Licking his lips, Eron placed his fingers on the keyboard, ready to reply to Stephen Thomas’ invitation.

“I’m not going to be an idiot and assume he has lost his mind. There is something about this, a calculated risk. He didn’t become Unified Champion in a Senior Citizen home because he was quicker or younger than everyone else, he did it with cunning. I don’t have to watch a bunch of VHS tapes to be proven right. He thinks like a Champion, and if he is going to take on an army, he isn’t going to allow himself to be backed into a corner without having something in mind. Four guys, four guys he probably has never wrestled before, four guys he has probably not even participated in the same ring with, for his Championship, and he is going to be fine with it? That’s not being stupid…”

Eron began to think to himself.

“Four guys. King, Queen, Jack, Ten.”

Typing quickly on the keyboard, Eron made his reply to Mr. Thomas quick and concise. I’m in.

“Troy Windham, Sweet Water, Texas’ golden boy, Master of the SlackKnife, king of the CSWA Mountain… plans to have the Ace. To complete the Royal Flush.”

“An ace… I’m going to steal… for my own Royal Flush: The CSWA Unified Championship.”

Email sent.

 

[GreggG]

“Oh look… a charity event.”

The loud smacking of heavy weights clanking together as someone set up their bench press echoed through the fitness center. Grunts and growls accompanied the clash of unpolished metal, the sounds of physically self-conscious weight lifters pushing their body to the limit to become stronger, and look stronger. The taupe coloured walls gave an aura of comfort around what was pretty much a warzone against the human body. Away from the commotion were some simple tables set up for people just done their work out or looking for a break, complete with a juicer and a Wi-Fi connection.

Sitting at one of the tables with his feet up, was a red haired firebrand, wearing an ash grey hooded jacket and black Adidas track pants. This particular man was Eron the Relentless, who had just showered and completed his workout. Training at Lifestyles Fitness in Marietta, Georgia, Eron had now some time to sit and relax, still loathing the jet lag that raced through his body. It was two weeks ago, but the trip from Germany to America did a number on his bones. The flights had been catching up to him, and he was considering now taking the train instead of the air for his travelling. At least until returning overseas. With his feet up on the rounded table, much like you would find in an Ikea superstore, Eron checked his e-mail with dissipating interest, also clicking over to a pro wrestling message board where people tried to argue the “professional wrestling merits” of Mike Bear, and whether that psycho deserved to be in a Pro Wrestling Hall of Fame. Eron found amusement in this, replying under fake, anonymous names and revealing true stories of Mike Bear’s bizarre split personality, and how it wasn’t so much a gimmick, but actually who he was.

What caught Eron’s attention was an e-mail from Stephen Thomas, Chairman of CS Enterprises. A Gold Rush Tournament, where you can strike it rich in a heavy way: A title shot for the CSWA Unified Title. To many, it was an opportunity of a lifetime. To Eron, it was another worthless North American event to waste his time on before going back to Europe.

“I can’t believe they are grasping at straws in needing some sort of draw to their silly little event. They must have thought everyone believed CSWA closed down so they had to do something to remind people. I guess I’m a good place to start.”

Yawning, Eron continued down the e-mail, reading the seething undertone that Stephen Thomas placed under any mention of Troy Windham as his CSWA Unified Champion. The e-mail was beginning to interest the Relentless One.

“Ah, Troy Windham. I have to admit, I respect the guy. He’s what, 72? The Sean Connery of Professional Wrestling? The guy has been on top forever, just beating down every 68 year old he has had to wrestle again in fourteen thousand matches over the last century. I gotta respect that. Actually…” Eron stopped, his eyes looking up in the ceiling, feigning deep thought. “Am I mixing up all of the Windham’s who run amok in CSWA history and putting them all together? Probably. Who is Troy Windham again?”

With another yawn, and a sip of his mixture of whey protein and mango fruit, Eron decided to look up CSWAwrestling.com to see exactly who he was dealing with. A quick scan of the profile, and Eron’s memory was quickly jogged.

“Ah, yes. King of the Slackers. The Epitome! He used to be Mr. Youth Gone Wild, and now he’s just an Eighties hairband special. I do have respect for this man. Anyone who doesn’t lose their mind having to whip around rhetorical jokes like Joey Melton, High Flyer and Kevin Powers just has to have something respectful about him. Then again, maybe he has lost his mind, because he seems to enjoy the idea of several wrestlers with probably a lot of chips on their shoulders ready to waltz in and rob him of his CSWA Unified Championship. Or maybe… just maybe…”

Grinning, Eron put his finger onto his mouse pad on the laptop, moving the pointer to click on “reply” on the e-mail. Licking his lips, Eron placed his fingers on the keyboard, ready to reply to Stephen Thomas’ invitation.

“I’m not going to be an idiot and assume he has lost his mind. There is something about this, a calculated risk. He didn’t become Unified Champion in a Senior Citizen home because he was quicker or younger than everyone else, he did it with cunning. I don’t have to watch a bunch of VHS tapes to be proven right. He thinks like a Champion, and if he is going to take on an army, he isn’t going to allow himself to be backed into a corner without having something in mind. Four guys, four guys he probably has never wrestled before, four guys he has probably not even participated in the same ring with, for his Championship, and he is going to be fine with it? That’s not being stupid…”

Eron began to think to himself.

“Four guys. King, Queen, Jack, Ten.”

Typing quickly on the keyboard, Eron made his reply to Mr. Thomas quick and concise. I’m in.

“Troy Windham, Sweet Water, Texas’ golden boy, Master of the SlackKnife, king of the CSWA Mountain… plans to have the Ace. To complete the Royal Flush.”

“An ace… I’m going to steal… for my own Royal Flush: The CSWA Unified Championship.”

Email sent.

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, with the NYC skyline behind him, holding up the CSWA Unified Title..)

TROY: So now I have to face a guy named Enron The Remorseless, a guy who trains at a gym that has wi-fi. Listen, dude -- the poker reference is a great tribute to me, I guess you saw my run on Tilt: Season 2. Flattered.

You can clang the weights and you can try and work a Carson-esque age joke... but no matter what, Guru the Damaja... you don't belong in my ring. (FTB)

 

[eron]

“Awwww… well isn’t this a throwback. Cocky heel Champ thinks his **** doesn't stink.”

Sitting back in a nice, comfy leather sofa, Eron the Relentless watched on his television screen Troy Windham’s comments toward him. It seemed clear to Eron that Troy knew very little about him, but knew it wouldn’t take long for him to do his own research. Watching Troy talk smugly with the CSWA Unified Title on his shoulder brought a light smile to Eron’s face.

“You don’t like to open too much about yourself, and I think I know the reason. It seems clear to me that one of the major reasons to this whole Gold Rush is because you’re avoiding two men: Dan Ryan and Mark Windham. It seems quite clear why you’d avoid your own brother. That needs no explanation. Dan Ryan seems more interesting. It’s quite clear to me that the guy is an unstable miscreant who you may be clearly avoiding just to keep your health in check from foaming rabies, but I think Dan and Mark have an advantage, one that you fear, and why you speak as little as possible to those you don’t know.”

Placing his hand on a wine glass beside him, Eron takes a sip, turning off the video feed to allow the blue glow of the television screen light up the room. Clearing his throat, Eron continued.

“Most people, they fear the unknown. They fear what they haven’t studied, what they haven’t had a chance to learn. I can admit to falling under this category, which is why I plan to learn everything I possibly can about you, and the pylons I have to toss outside a rental ring to get to you. However, you fear something else. You fear who knows you best. You fear the people who can read you. You’re fine with spearheading yourself against four unknown opponents, because you assume they can’t think like you. But a guy like Mark Windham, your very brother… oh, you’ll dodge that bullet. You will dodge a familiar bullet.”

Cracking his fingers on his right hand by pushing his thumb down upon each slender one, Eron slightly begins to bite his lip, before shrugging his right shoulder.

“You see, Troy Windham, you were right. I don’t belong in your ring. It seems clear to me that the ring you participate in to defend your Unified Title is full of nothing but slightly entertaining bad boy clichés, rampant with aggressive promos and constant claims of sexual prowess. The ring you rule is a joke, it is beneath me. There are only three reasons why I enter it.”

Putting three fingers up, Eron continued.

“Reason three: If anyone is going to dispel the myth of the glory of the CSWA, it is going to have to be me.”

Eron then dropped his middle finger.

“Reason two: It seems quite clear to me that as cunning and deviant of a man you are, the shoulder that rests your CSWA Unified Championship can’t seem to hold it up steady, thanks to your own fears and the words you try to use to hide them.”

Finally, Eron dropped his ringfinger, only holding the index finger in the air.

“Reason one: You can play a cocky cliché and you can mess around with my name… but no matter what, Mr. Windham… by the time it comes down to you and me in that ring, when every one of those worthless tourists of professional wrestling get tossed to the cold mat, and you look me in the eyes, you will see that yes, I know you, and yes… I will take the CSWA Unified Championship.”

Dropping the finger, Eron sat back in his sofa seat.

 

[GreggG]

“Awwww… well isn’t this a throwback. Cocky heel Champ thinks his **** doesn't stink.”

Sitting back in a nice, comfy leather sofa, Eron the Relentless watched on his television screen Troy Windham’s comments toward him. It seemed clear to Eron that Troy knew very little about him, but knew it wouldn’t take long for him to do his own research. Watching Troy talk smugly with the CSWA Unified Title on his shoulder brought a light smile to Eron’s face.

“You don’t like to open too much about yourself, and I think I know the reason. It seems clear to me that one of the major reasons to this whole Gold Rush is because you’re avoiding two men: Dan Ryan and Mark Windham. It seems quite clear why you’d avoid your own brother. That needs no explanation. Dan Ryan seems more interesting. It’s quite clear to me that the guy is an unstable miscreant who you may be clearly avoiding just to keep your health in check from foaming rabies, but I think Dan and Mark have an advantage, one that you fear, and why you speak as little as possible to those you don’t know.”

Placing his hand on a wine glass beside him, Eron takes a sip, turning off the video feed to allow the blue glow of the television screen light up the room. Clearing his throat, Eron continued.

“Most people, they fear the unknown. They fear what they haven’t studied, what they haven’t had a chance to learn. I can admit to falling under this category, which is why I plan to learn everything I possibly can about you, and the pylons I have to toss outside a rental ring to get to you. However, you fear something else. You fear who knows you best. You fear the people who can read you. You’re fine with spearheading yourself against four unknown opponents, because you assume they can’t think like you. But a guy like Mark Windham, your very brother… oh, you’ll dodge that bullet. You will dodge a familiar bullet.”

Cracking his fingers on his right hand by pushing his thumb down upon each slender one, Eron slightly begins to bite his lip, before shrugging his right shoulder.

“You see, Troy Windham, you were right. I don’t belong in your ring. It seems clear to me that the ring you participate in to defend your Unified Title is full of nothing but slightly entertaining bad boy clichés, rampant with aggressive promos and constant claims of sexual prowess. The ring you rule is a joke, it is beneath me. There are only three reasons why I enter it.”

Putting three fingers up, Eron continued.

“Reason three: If anyone is going to dispel the myth of the glory of the CSWA, it is going to have to be me.”

Eron then dropped his middle finger.

“Reason two: It seems quite clear to me that as cunning and deviant of a man you are, the shoulder that rests your CSWA Unified Championship can’t seem to hold it up steady, thanks to your own fears and the words you try to use to hide them.”

Finally, Eron dropped his ringfinger, only holding the index finger in the air.

“Reason one: You can play a cocky cliché and you can mess around with my name… but no matter what, Mr. Windham… by the time it comes down to you and me in that ring, when every one of those worthless tourists of professional wrestling get tossed to the cold mat, and you look me in the eyes, you will see that yes, I know you, and yes… I will take the CSWA Unified Championship.”

Dropping the finger, Eron sat back in his sofa seat.

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, in the Advanced Video Room in his North Shore Oauhu compound. Troy's got on his Hawaiian shirt and is cradling his CSWA Unified Title. Try sees the camera is rolling and grabs his head with his left hand, an exaggerated face of worry on his head.)

TROY: Will you just get out of my head already! Go on! Get out! Stop reading my mind! Is your name actually Merlin the Telepath?

(Troy takes an overwrought deep breath. Then he shakes the cobwebs out of his head, and readjusts his title belt.)

TROY: Listen closely, you moron. If you knew a DAMN thing about my career, you'd know the one thing that I don't have, and never had, is fear. You think I'm running scared from Dan Ryan? The Dan Ryan I pinned cleanly in the middle of a ring to win this right here? The Dan Ryan I then stole the title from after hiding as a stowaway in the luggage hole of a CSWA cruise ship for two months? The reason I denied Dan Ryan a shot at the title was simple -- it was a simple business move, designed to anger him and continue my mental hold on him, while increasing what goes in my already large wallet when I inevitably crushed him again. As far as my brother is concerned, how many times have I been in a ring with him? 200? 300 times? I'll tell you this about my brother, since apparently your dinosaur-sized brain didn't remember watching the CSWA back in the day, even though you knew you watched and marked out like the fanboy you are. As any astute student of my history knows, my brother did not want me to join the CSWA and he certainly did not like it when I broke free from his All-American shadow and became this league's leading man.

Call the league office to get ahold of my agent -- and I know that you certainly can't afford one of those -- and he can send over to you, free of charge, not just an autographed headshot of my guest shot on Veronica Mars, but also the series of matches I had in 2002 against Hornet, Mike Randalls and the formerly toughest man alive, Eli Flair. Break down those tapes and you will see how scared I was then. How, even with a busted neck, I stood in a locked cage with Eli Flair and saw him beat the everlasting **** out of me, saw him go after my neck, and then saw him break my left arm in 14 separate places. All he had to do was make me announce over a microphone that I Quit. And that is something he was incapable of doing... which cemented my place as not just the best looking man in professional wrestling, but also the toughest.

Torgo the Tremendous, I fear absolutely no competitor. I never have, and I never will. Go ahead and ask all the people in this thing who have entered solely because they hate me with an undying passion, and they will tell you the same exact thing.

Now, my man, let me ask YOU a question. You said your appearance here is done to dispel the myth of the CSWA. When you call my agent, actually, more accurately, when you leave him voicemail, because you certainly aren't important enough for him to take your call directly, also ask to get the tapes upon tapes of the myriad of wrestlers who've been here to do the same thing, and then find out where those folks are now. Hell, you might even find some tapes of a lot of these folks doing battle with yours truly, seeing them turned back every single time.

But, honestly, each of those folks, deep down inside, they knew they weren't here to destroy this promotion. They were here because they knew that you don't mean jack **** in this sport until you do something in the CSWA. This is the promotion that started this business and this is the promotion that defines this business. This is the elite, this is the ultimate echelon, this is what everyone aspires towards. And you, you man blessed with the powers of telepathy (but not telekenisis), know this is true, as well. You entered this competition to place the CSWA on your resume, on your C.V., so you could go back to whatever Indie Hell you came from in the vast land of Alphabet Soup leagues, filled with initials that are absolutely insignificant to everyone, and brag that you finished in 11th place in a CSWA event. And for someone of your ability and your mental acumen, that's pretty damn impressive. For folks like me -- the man who, upon his inevitable victory, will be cemented The Greatest Wrestler Of All Time -- that doesn't mean much. But that's why I am who I am, and that's why you're trolling for my attention like George Michael in a men's room. (FTB)

 

[measuring stick]

(CUT TO: "The Standard" Lance Spencer standing infront of his father's gym, Hell's Gate Wrestling Academy, in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Spencer is clad in a black "Hell's Gate Wrestling Academy" T-shirt with white board shorts. His curly blonde hair blows with the wind, his gaze stoic.)​

SPENCER: Growing up I spent countless hours on the road with my father, "Old School" Mike Spencer, picking up any useful information I could. Naturally like most kids, I wanted to be a pro wrestler just like my pops. When my father retired and opened up this gym *Throws a thumb over his shoulder towards the gym* I more than likely spent more time here than doing my homework. When I graduated from high school, this became my home. I trained under some of the best minds in professional wrestling here, and I learned more than many will in an entire career. I've put aside opportunity after opportunity in order to prepare myself for this sport, but finally an opportunity as arisen that needs to be answered.​

CSWA Gold Rush.​

The opportunity of a life time. A chance to face "The Epitome" Troy Windham, and countless other CSWA stars. I love how a washed up crotchfire like Eron the Relentless can call out Troy Windham, when he hasn't done anything worth a sh[bleep] in how long? Jolt was a cesspool of wrestling, how many times do you have to die before you realize nobody gives a sh[bleep] anymore? No worries, Eron can do things his way and I will do them how I see fit.​

Windham isn't a coward, he isn't a two bit hack, but he is the CSWA Unified Champion. He's thrown beatings to the likes of Dan Ryan and too many other stars for me to name. He has proven that he is one the best wrestlers in our business, and I respect him for that. But respect shouldn't be confused with intimidation, starstruck, or anything else of that nature. I want to be the last man standing in the ring with Troy Windham, with that Unified Title the prize. That is wrestling, two warriors going into battle, willing to do anything and everything to prove that they have the right to be called champion ... to stand infront of a sold out arena with that gold strapped around their waist. Windham, at CSWA Gold Rush, I will be THE STANDARD to which you are measured." (FTB)​

 

[GreggG]

(CUT TO: "The Standard" Lance Spencer standing infront of his father's gym, Hell's Gate Wrestling Academy, in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Spencer is clad in a black "Hell's Gate Wrestling Academy" T-shirt with white board shorts. His curly blonde hair blows with the wind, his gaze stoic.)​

SPENCER: Growing up I spent countless hours on the road with my father, "Old School" Mike Spencer, picking up any useful information I could. Naturally like most kids, I wanted to be a pro wrestler just like my pops. When my father retired and opened up this gym *Throws a thumb over his shoulder towards the gym* I more than likely spent more time here than doing my homework. When I graduated from high school, this became my home. I trained under some of the best minds in professional wrestling here, and I learned more than many will in an entire career. I've put aside opportunity after opportunity in order to prepare myself for this sport, but finally an opportunity as arisen that needs to be answered.​

CSWA Gold Rush.​

The opportunity of a life time. A chance to face "The Epitome" Troy Windham, and countless other CSWA stars. I love how a washed up crotchfire like Eron the Relentless can call out Troy Windham, when he hasn't done anything worth a sh[bleep] in how long? Jolt was a cesspool of wrestling, how many times do you have to die before you realize nobody gives a sh[bleep] anymore? No worries, Eron can do things his way and I will do them how I see fit.​

Windham isn't a coward, he isn't a two bit hack, but he is the CSWA Unified Champion. He's thrown beatings to the likes of Dan Ryan and too many other stars for me to name. He has proven that he is one the best wrestlers in our business, and I respect him for that. But respect shouldn't be confused with intimidation, starstruck, or anything else of that nature. I want to be the last man standing in the ring with Troy Windham, with that Unified Title the prize. That is wrestling, two warriors going into battle, willing to do anything and everything to prove that they have the right to be called champion ... to stand infront of a sold out arena with that gold strapped around their waist. Windham, at CSWA Gold Rush, I will be THE STANDARD to which you are measured." (FTB)​

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, cradling his CSWA Unified Title, sitting in his state-of-the-art television studio at his North Shore Oahu compound.)

TROY: I must say, I do love the new strategy lately, of having my opponents blatantly grovel and publicly kiss my ass on national television. That's all well and good -- I still on planning on giving you a sarcastic wave when you're the first or second person tossed out of the ring in this thing. I have a feeling The Measuring Stick is going to come up just a tad bit short. (FTB)

 

[User Poets]

(CUT TO: Troy Windham, cradling his CSWA Unified Title, sitting in his state-of-the-art television studio at his North Shore Oahu compound.)

TROY: I must say, I do love the new strategy lately, of having my opponents blatantly grovel and publicly kiss my ass on national television. That's all well and good -- I still on planning on giving you a sarcastic wave when you're the first or second person tossed out of the ring in this thing. I have a feeling The Measuring Stick is going to come up just a tad bit short. (FTB)

Don't misunderstand, Troy.

I hate you. I want you to leave the GOLD RUSH without your title, and I want you to die at a very old age as a penniless cripple with no friends, no family, and no hope.

But to disregard your wrestling skill? That's just naive and factually wrong. Separate one from the other, Troy... it makes this business a lot easier to take.

 

[xionexodus]

(Cut to Xion Exodus sitting in his flat. Francis McGreggor aims a camera at Xion and begins recording.)

Xion: Troy Windham. The CSWA UNIFIED World Champion. The Epitome. The Greastest Wrestler in the History of this Industry. Better Than Thou. Nevermind all the b.s., Troy. I'm glad that you're not scared. I'm glad you are cocky. I'm quite pleased in the fact that you downgrade everyone around you. But all of those things will be your downfall. You are mortal Troy, and those are mortal features. You have been beaten before, or you would be the only Champion CSWA has ever had. You will be beaten in the Gold Rush Match. You will only face four other men, but they will all be gunning for you, Troy. I'm not going to gloat about titles I've held in other feds. I'm not going to compare you to any other wrestler. All I am going to do is beat you. Outright. No man will keep me from getting to you, and to your title. You see Troy, three years ago my legs we're shattered by a set of steel ring steps. I was told I would never wrestle again. But now I'm back, and better than before. You may know what pain is Troy, but pain is only the beginning. You have to bleed to be great. Do you know what it's like to not be able to walk Troy? Do you know what it's like to have 7 of your ribs broken by a five-hundred pound man falling on you? Do you know what it is like to be blind? I do. So you pissed on someone. Just shows that under all of that rough exterior, Troy Windham is just a schoolboy. Props though on burying people under the flag. It was meant to be buried. But Troy, in all reality, you truly are scared. If you weren't scared of losing your title, then you would face your brother and Dan Ryan. You know they can beat you. You know they can get to you. You know that they are better than you. Well so am I Troy. I am better than you and I will prove it. Only in pain will you know, but pain is only the beginning.

Francis turns off the camera and removes the tape.

Xion: Make sure that he get's it.

Francis: Don't worry Xion. I will see to it. You need to rest and prepare. The match is not far off.

Xion: I will be the judge of that. All you are for old man is to serve me. I do not ned your help.

Francis: Mr. Windham will be very displeased by this.

Xion: Do you really think I care? Troy Windham is a joke. He cannot beat me. I will be the champion. I will do anything I have to do to ensure that.

Francis: Then trust me and heed my advice. Let me help you

Xion punches Francis and knocks him across the room.

Xion: Don't push me old man. You don't want to get in my way. I will hurt you, even if you are Basitian's brother.

Xion leaves the room and exits the flat. Francis puts the video into an envelope addressed to Troy Windham.

 

[measuring stick]

(FADE IN: Lance Spencer, standing infront of a Hell's Gate Wrestling Academy backdrop. A black "Weighed, Measured, Found Unworthy" T-shirt with a pair of khaki shorts. White Arizona Cardinals hat. He seems somewhat displeased, a scowl on his face.)

SPENCER: Windham, first you need to remove your head from your ass. Nobody is groveling to you, especially not me. I told you that I respect you, I'm far from bringing you ice tea and gay porno mags for your entertainment. That's your flaw Windham, you don't know when to take the good, and shut your mouth. It really doesn't matter what little sarcastic comments you can come up with, it really doesn't matter who you beat, the only thing that matters isn't you haven't beat me.

Here Troy boy, lemme save your breath.

You haven't beat me because I haven't competed anywhere big.

I'm a virtual unknown, with no major titles.

But I'm 21 years old, and this CSWA Gold Rush will be the beginning of a new era.

Listening to you old CSWA and fWo boys has really gotten me thinking - all you ever talk about is history. How somebody beat somebody, and then you guys didn't like each other ... yada yada - do us all a favor, and just quit talking. Instead of wasting every word that comes from your mouths, why don't you go get your beat up bodies into decent condition, so when I pin your a[bleep] one ... two ... three inside those rings, YOU know that you gave everything you have. Because I really don't want to have to flip on my television, and see your moaning and groaning. Because lord knows when that Unified Title gets strapped around my waist, suddenly everybody will be injured or not in good enough shape. Spare me the dramatics.

I think I've said my piece on the biggest drama queen in professional wrestling, Troy Windham. Windham, you keep poppin' off at the mouth, and you're going to wake up looking up at the lights, and that Unified Title is gonna be around my waist, little man.

(Spencer removes his ballcap, running his hand through his hair.)

SPENCER: I intended on keeping my focus on the more talented people in this Gold Rush match, but I'm having a hard time not commenting on a few people. Jay Smash. Xion Exodus or whatever the f[bleep] your name is. I was tempted to watch your promos today, and I did manage to tolerate them briefly. I honestly thought about dropping out of the Gold Rush match, Jay, especially after you handled that scrawny CSWA employee so easily, honestly chills ran down my spine. And then Xion, punching an old man, what a couple of bad a[bleep] characters CSWA has managed to rake in for this match! It'll be my pleasure to weigh, measure, and find those two unworthy for the Unified Title! (FTB)