J
JPenley
Guest
The scene fades in on the interior of a sparsely decorated low-middle-class apartment building, deep in the smoldering heart of the Queen City of Charlotte.
A CSWA camera crew is shuffling down one of the many vein-like thin hallways that run through the third floor of the establishment. A combination of minimal upkeep and hazy like cigarette smoke has turned all the wallpaper the wheezing yellow of a rotten tooth.
The crew stops at a door marked "212" and the DAT operator reaches out, knocking his knuckles against the door. A few moments go by with no response until finally, the door opens a crack, and then the sound of the chain pin being removed is heard. The door opens fully to reveal the occupant of the apartment.
The young man physically looks no older than twenty-three, perhaps, but his eyes carry an age that outweighs the body. His chin-length dark blonde hair is pulled back into a small ponytail and he wears a tight black t-shirt and a pair of torn blue jeans, patched with red flannel. For those who follow Global X-Treme Wrestling, this is obviously none other than Nate Logan, the Zero of GXW. His weight shifts on his bare feet when he sees who has knocked on his door and he acknowledges the crew.
LOGAN: Looks like you finally caught me. Fine, set up the camera, but make it quick.
The crew sets to work, setting up the filming apparatus as Logan rolls his eyes and leans against his doorframe. After a moment of preparation, the camera man signals Logan as he activates the filming camera, our field of vision shifting to black and white.
LOGAN: Well, the deafmute speaks. While I enjoy being verbally abused at the expense of the handicapped community as much as the next guy, I'm afraid you misunderstand. I haven't been quiet because I have to be. I've been quiet because I chose to be. Because honestly, Steve, Eddy, GUNS, and WHOEVER else it may concern, I really don't give a flying f*** about this federation.
Nate faux gasps, mocking putting his hand to his mouth, glancing to his sides.
LOGAN: Oh my goodness gracious me! Did I just speak the unspeakable? Did I just insinuate that the sun DOES set on the Merrit empire? Did I just utter the supreme blasphemy, that the CSWA is NOT the center of the universe! Be still my heart! Yes, you heard me correctly, I have BETTER THINGS TO DO with my time than sit around and listen to a bunch of over-the-hill corporate narcs sit around and wax poetic about Anniversary '74 and Elvis Lives...back when Elvis lived. This CSWA-pride s*** is so tired. Take Mr. Steve Radder, for example. He's the perfect example of a CSWA tool. Oh, he's tough, and he's undoubtedly a master of his game, but when it comes down to it, when it REALLY comes down to it, he KNOWS WHO SIGNS HIS PAYCHECKS. You are all pawns. I would address Eddy Love, but he apparently is deafer and muter than I am, since he's too good to address such lowly competitors such as myself and Kev. Speaking of Kev, bravo, my friend. I don't think I've ever seen so many people get so bent out of shape so quickly. I don't think I've ever seen so many people pout so fast. It's attractive in it's own pathetic way. But then again, so are a lot of things. Like a CSWA contract.
Logan pauses, collecting a few thoughts, before continuing.
LOGAN: At the bafflingly named Fish Fund, KP and I are going to show "BullS*** on Parade" Steve Radder and "Hurri-can't" Eddy Lame what it truly means to live X-Treme. And after we're done curb-stomping these two posers, the rest of the CSWA is next. I don't care if we have to do it one by one, going through "OLDEST ARMS IN WORLD" GUMS, Eliminating Eli Flair, raiding Hairnet, taking out Benedict Aho, and all the rest of Merrit's Merry Men, but this federation is well overdue for an eye-opener. An eye-opener than you aren't the end-all, be-all of the world. That the world does not worship the ground on which you bleed. That the masses don't flock to Greensboro to prostrate themselves before the throne of a federation that's grown idolatrize itself, growing fat and greedy with power. It's time for you to realize...the time of the CSWA...is over.
This said, Logan dismisses the crew with a wave of the hand and steps back into the apartment, closing the door behind him as the shot instantly cuts out.
A CSWA camera crew is shuffling down one of the many vein-like thin hallways that run through the third floor of the establishment. A combination of minimal upkeep and hazy like cigarette smoke has turned all the wallpaper the wheezing yellow of a rotten tooth.
The crew stops at a door marked "212" and the DAT operator reaches out, knocking his knuckles against the door. A few moments go by with no response until finally, the door opens a crack, and then the sound of the chain pin being removed is heard. The door opens fully to reveal the occupant of the apartment.
The young man physically looks no older than twenty-three, perhaps, but his eyes carry an age that outweighs the body. His chin-length dark blonde hair is pulled back into a small ponytail and he wears a tight black t-shirt and a pair of torn blue jeans, patched with red flannel. For those who follow Global X-Treme Wrestling, this is obviously none other than Nate Logan, the Zero of GXW. His weight shifts on his bare feet when he sees who has knocked on his door and he acknowledges the crew.
LOGAN: Looks like you finally caught me. Fine, set up the camera, but make it quick.
The crew sets to work, setting up the filming apparatus as Logan rolls his eyes and leans against his doorframe. After a moment of preparation, the camera man signals Logan as he activates the filming camera, our field of vision shifting to black and white.
LOGAN: Well, the deafmute speaks. While I enjoy being verbally abused at the expense of the handicapped community as much as the next guy, I'm afraid you misunderstand. I haven't been quiet because I have to be. I've been quiet because I chose to be. Because honestly, Steve, Eddy, GUNS, and WHOEVER else it may concern, I really don't give a flying f*** about this federation.
Nate faux gasps, mocking putting his hand to his mouth, glancing to his sides.
LOGAN: Oh my goodness gracious me! Did I just speak the unspeakable? Did I just insinuate that the sun DOES set on the Merrit empire? Did I just utter the supreme blasphemy, that the CSWA is NOT the center of the universe! Be still my heart! Yes, you heard me correctly, I have BETTER THINGS TO DO with my time than sit around and listen to a bunch of over-the-hill corporate narcs sit around and wax poetic about Anniversary '74 and Elvis Lives...back when Elvis lived. This CSWA-pride s*** is so tired. Take Mr. Steve Radder, for example. He's the perfect example of a CSWA tool. Oh, he's tough, and he's undoubtedly a master of his game, but when it comes down to it, when it REALLY comes down to it, he KNOWS WHO SIGNS HIS PAYCHECKS. You are all pawns. I would address Eddy Love, but he apparently is deafer and muter than I am, since he's too good to address such lowly competitors such as myself and Kev. Speaking of Kev, bravo, my friend. I don't think I've ever seen so many people get so bent out of shape so quickly. I don't think I've ever seen so many people pout so fast. It's attractive in it's own pathetic way. But then again, so are a lot of things. Like a CSWA contract.
Logan pauses, collecting a few thoughts, before continuing.
LOGAN: At the bafflingly named Fish Fund, KP and I are going to show "BullS*** on Parade" Steve Radder and "Hurri-can't" Eddy Lame what it truly means to live X-Treme. And after we're done curb-stomping these two posers, the rest of the CSWA is next. I don't care if we have to do it one by one, going through "OLDEST ARMS IN WORLD" GUMS, Eliminating Eli Flair, raiding Hairnet, taking out Benedict Aho, and all the rest of Merrit's Merry Men, but this federation is well overdue for an eye-opener. An eye-opener than you aren't the end-all, be-all of the world. That the world does not worship the ground on which you bleed. That the masses don't flock to Greensboro to prostrate themselves before the throne of a federation that's grown idolatrize itself, growing fat and greedy with power. It's time for you to realize...the time of the CSWA...is over.
This said, Logan dismisses the crew with a wave of the hand and steps back into the apartment, closing the door behind him as the shot instantly cuts out.