CUT TO: Christian Sands hitting the Sand Blaster on an unknown opponent.
CUT TO: Karl Brown nailing someone with the Dragon's Bite.
CUT TO: Jonathan Marx slapping an intense STF on an unknown individual.
CUT TO: Adam Benjamin knocking the absolute bejesus out of an opponent with a shining wizard.
CUT TO: The Crimson Calling destroying their opponent with a Crimson Crasher.
CUT TO: Beast delivering a high impact Tiger Driver '91 to an unnamed man.
CUT TO: Dan Ryan, an evil grin on his face, stomping his massive frame towards the camera.
CUTTO: With a clash of metal, a logo slams across the screen, its edges flickering.]
(Cut to the ramp, where a wreath of pyro explodes around the EmpireTron and several bomblike, smoky explosions ripple about the entry way. The camera zooms in on the screen as the pyro finally peters out, then blurs to roving shots of the roaring crowd as a small banner in the corner briefly appears to proclaim that EPW is broadcast en Espanol. Various signs are visible in the crowd: "Dis 5" with an arrow pointing down, "Savoy is still my phenom!!", "Dodd = Workrate", "Where's Karl Brown?", "JA Is The King!", "DIS FEARS CROSS!", "Unleash the BEAST!!", and finally, "Dan Ryan Ate My Pork Chops".)
DT: Live from the New Orleans Arena in the Big Easy, it’s Empire Pro Aggression!! It’s an action packed night as we’ll see JA take to the ring against Steve Savoy, as well as our first in-ring look at the mysterious Dis 2.
MN: You forget the former World Tag Team Champions The Cameron Cruise Project taking on my new odds-on favorites to take the division by storm, Troy Windham’s Entourage.
(A royal fanfare begins to play though the PA system and the camera cuts away from the announce table, focusing on the entryway and the RyanTron. The house lights begin to dim; the overhead spotlights rapidly flicker before cutting out completely.)
DT: We're not experiencing technical difficulties, but something tells me that we're about to be graced by the presence of our new Heavyweight Champion.
MN: And I, for one, can't WAIT to see this!
DM: Lindsay Troy played the entire lockeroom like a fiddle on her quest to get to the finals of the Russian Roulette tournament and she shocked the world when she pulled that mask off in front of millions of people.
(The crowd gets louder in anticipation, screaming and booing through the blackness, while the 'Tron slowly illuminates. All eyes focus on the quotation that fades into the center of the screen:
"Do you really have to be the ice queen intellectual or the slut whore? Isn't there some way to be both?"--Susan Sarandon
Suddenly, all the lights in the arena flick on, casting white-hot light down onto the crowd. Pyrotechnics erupt from the stage and ramp, and the trumpet flourish is abruptly replaced. "See, I believe in money, power and respect:
First you get the money,
Then you get the motherf(FCC)kin' power.
After you get the f(FCC)kin' power,
Motherf(FCC)kers are gon' respect you."
The opening chorus of "Money Power Respect" by Lil Kim, the LOX and DMX blasts through the New Orleans Arena. The masses unleash a torrent of boos as the curtains part to make way for the newly crowned Empire Pro World Heavyweight Champion.
But Lindsay Troy, much like her in-ring offense, knew how to rack up the style points.
The boos only intensified as Troy, wearing a 3 piece custom designed black and gold Dolce & Gabbana power suit, appeared before the crowd while seated on a large, hand-crafted antique throne. Four well-built men, positioned at each of the legs, carried her down to the ring. In her lap lay her DIS attire, with the Empire Pro Championship belt folded neatly over the disguise that concealed her identity until her moment of triumph.)
DT: Great, all we need now is the Taj Mahal, a flying carpet, elephants, and Robin Williams doing a song-and-dance number as the Genie of the Lamp.
MN: Show some respect, Burgerman. You're in the presence of a GENIUS.
DM: If there was ever any doubt as to the depth of Neely's infatuation, it's going to be dispelled tonight. Although the throne is a nice touch.
(The hired hands stop at the apron and Troy rises from her seat to slowly and gracefully enter the ring, carrying her parcels with her.
A pause in the middle of her domain allowed the Queen survey the crowd with hazel eyes hidden behind black rimmed and gold-tinted lensed sunglasses. The boos reached a fever pitch as Troy pulled a microphone out of a suit-jacket pocket, her new music cutting out upon the revealing of a microphone.. A lift of her arm brought the mic to her lips, where a smirk greeted the mouthpiece and her voice addressed the rabble.)
TROY: Don't be alarmed by that chill you feel underneath your feet. Hell is, indeed, freezing over.
DM: I never thought I would see a day like this.
MN: It's true. After we left Houston, I could have sworn I heard a plague of locusts coming for us!
DT: Neely, stop exaggerating.
MN: I feared for my first-born son, Thomas!
DM: I thought you didn't have any kids.
MN: Not yet, anyway. Crazy things like this keep happening and I'm making sure females everywhere get their tubes tied. Except Troy's. Her offspring would be a superior race.
DT: Dean, hand me that paper bag. I'm going to be sick.
TROY: I've spent these last few weeks enjoying the explosion of media activity that has surrounded my great...
(She glanced down at her Dis costume.)
TROY: ...unmasking. But aside from DISpelling the speculation as to who Dis was, there was something else that I took great joy in.
DT: Lording your victory over everyone within earshot?
MN: QUIET THOMAS. I'm feeling INSPIRED here!
TROY: The Bible says that Jesus fed five-thousand people with five loaves of bread and two fish. I, on the other hand, served millions and millions helping after helping of healthy slices of crow. And, my single-minded sheep, I did it at the expense of a man who time and again proves himself to be nothing more than a gullible, fallible, fool of a man.
But I'll get to Beast in a second.
First thing's first.
(Lindsay drops the Dis costume to the canvas, the belt still in her grasp. The microphone is temporarily placed back into the pocket from which it came while she winds the belt around her waist, latching it securely, and bringing the faceplate back to the front. Troy takes the microphone in-hand again, and shines the front of the belt with her jacket sleeve.)
TROY (smirking): Can't be a proper champion without wearing the belt that I bled, sweated and damn near killed myself for.
But I wouldn't have it any other way.
DM: That match she had with Beast for the belt is already being considered for a Match of the Year nomination at the end of this calendar year.
MN: And I'll be the first one in the voting booth!
DT (loudly): That woman cheated her way to the belt and you're fawning over her like some sort of...
(Dean Matthews cleared his throat and points to the ring, and both Mike and Dave follow his line of sight to see Troy leaning over the top rope and looking right at Dave.
Who knows how she heard him?
A wizard did it.
But Troy, nevertheless, smiled a toothy smile at the Empire Pro play-by-play announcer.)
TROY: So. I'm nothing more than a cheater, Dave? My misperception of myself is so criminal that you feel the need to shout it loud enough for it to reach my ears?
You're forgetting yourself, Thomas.
You see...there is no honor amongst thieves.
MN: Way to go, Late Night Drive-Thru Window. Now you've made her angry!
TROY: Marcus is a far cry from the strong, righteous man that he pretends to be. He's given and taken away just like everyone else, and he struggles for peace to quell the anger that rises up inside him. For someone so prone to manipulation, exploitation and weakness, he tries to make up for his shortcomings.
Yet he always fails.
I know, because I know him better than each...
(She points out to the crowd)
TROY: ...and every one of you.
(The crowd BOOS and slowly gets a BEAST! BEAST! BEAST! chant going. Lindsay just shakes her head in disgust.)
TROY: Marcus is weak, and chanting his name is NOT going to change that. To see one side is not enough to know a man, and everything Marcus has and hasn't done has only lengthened his path of misery. You may think this conflict between us has its roots here, but it's that line of thinking that makes a sucker born every minute.
Marcus said that he was tired of hearing the phrase, "Do what it takes," and I questioned him, knowing that he couldn't do what was necessary. When you know a man as wholly as I know Marcus Gregory Wescott, you KNOW the man's limitations. Roll the footage, monkeys!
DT: Oh what could she possibly have to show us?
DM: We're about to take a walk down memory lane, Dave.
MN: Think Lindsay will let me hold her hand?!
(CUE-UP: Footage from Russian Roulette DT: Dis has got the CHAIR again... Dammit, the referee needs to STOP this! DIS SWINGS - BEAST PUNCHES THE CHAIR RIGHT INTO DIS' FACE! DIS GOES DOWN! Beast looking at the chair... THE CROWD WANTS HIM TO TAKE IT... BEAST PICKS UP THE CHAIR!
MN: HIT HIM, LOAFY!
DM: HIT HIM!
MN: HIT HIM!
DM: WHY DOESN'T HE HIT HIM?!
DT: BEAST'S HESITANT! HE DOESN'T WANT TO HIT DIS WITH THE CHAIR -
(**WHAM**) (CROWD: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!)
DT: - DAMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT! DIS JUST KICKED BEAST SQUARE IN THE GROIN! BEAST DOUBLES OVER IN AGONY AND DROPS THE CHAIR! DIS DOESN'T HESITATE! HOOKS THE HEAD! DAMMIT, DDT TO BEAST ON THE STEEL CHAIR!!!
FREEZE-FRAME: Beast being planted into the chair The New Orleans crowd BOOS~!
CUT-TO: TROY, in the ring)
TROY: In this lifetime, we all encounter the snarky little preposition "IF." Example: IF Marcus hadn't left his balls in the lockeroom, he WOULD have hit me with the chair and he MAY have still been the World Heavyweight Champion.
IF.
Life's full of them.
Nice guys don't just finish last. They finish beltless, balless, and HOPEless.
I did what was necessary, and to this victor went (she slaps the front of the title) the spoils.
You want your retribution, because you can't stand the sight of me continually playing you for the fool that you are. Your weaknesses are my empowerment, my exploitations of you a delight and your shame a lesson for all those who walk along the same downtrodden path.
Survival of the fittest, Beast. But your kind is soon to be extinct.
All shall be revealed to you, lover; your questions, the answers that you seek, but only when I know your mind is strong enough to take it.
And then...you may never know.
But what I know, is that all who lay claim to my title, whether that possessive is liked or not, will be dealt with the same way the former champion was dealt with:
By doing what is necessary.
Even you, Xandor Cross.
DT: Cross rightfully won the #1 Contendership to the Heavyweight...
MN: TROY'S Heavyweight...
DT: ...title at Russian Roulette, first surviving a cage encounter with Steve Savoy and then beating J_A to earn his way into the title hunt.
DM: Talk about a man who, arguably, knows the Queen better than anyone in this business. Their inevitable encounter may just rival the match with Beast.
(Troy paces the ring while the crowd gives Cross a nice ovation.)
TROY: Xandor, we find ourselves in a similar position as we did the last time I held a belt that you wanted. Far be it for me to acknowledge that this encounter holds a prize far richer for the spoils to the victor.
Our song, after nearly four years, still remains the same.
We chased each other through arenas. We tested our friendship and we left it all on top of a scaffold.
But Xandor, your uncle isn't here to catch you when you fall. And he's not here to lend a shoulder to either of us.
I threw you off a metal bridge to retain a title that was rightfully mine. Don't think you know the lengths I'll go to in order to keep this one.
DM: A thickly-laced threat if I ever heard one.
MN: Troy is a SAUCY LASS.
TROY: But make no mistake, Xandor, I want my Number One Contender to be as healthy as he can be before he has to step between the ropes and stand across from me.
To the man who's been looking to ride my masked identity's coattails to EPW fame...DIS 2 (MASSIVE BOOS!)...consider this my Target Aquired announcement. You've come to this place and interfered with business that was none of your concern. That business happens to overlap with my intentions, and when you meddled in my match at Russian Roulette you inked your name to your Last Will and Testament with your own blood.
By my hand or by Xandor's, you will suffer for your unrighteous grievances, and you will not make it out of New Orleans unscathed.
That is the way of the Cross, and that...is my Final Judgement.
(Troy drops the mic and climbs the turnbuckles to pose for the crowd while the cameras go to commercial.)